#now just picture me leaning back with the hand gestures and everything

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc.

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

[a-fervent-revision]

Me, in my most exaggerated Christopher Walken impression: I've got a Fever!

and the only prescription,.. is cumming inside you!

[pucksandpower]

La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)

You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.

“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.

You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.

Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”

Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.

“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.

You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.

Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.

Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.

After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”

“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.

“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”

You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.

“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.

Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”

You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.

“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”

“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”

He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.

The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”

Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”

Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”

As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.

“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”

You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.

“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”

You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”

As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.

***

The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.

“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”

She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.

“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”

You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.

On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.

It makes you feel ill.

Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.

Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.

As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.

“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”

“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”

Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”

You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.

The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.

“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”

The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.

“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”

Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.

The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.

Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.

“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.

Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”

She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.

Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.

Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.

“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”

The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.

How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.

“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”

You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.

You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.

Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.

Let me have my papa back.

***

A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.

Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”

You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.

“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”

You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.

“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”

You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”

He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”

The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”

“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”

“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”

Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”

He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”

Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?

“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”

“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.

“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”

Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.

“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”

Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.

“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.

“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.

“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”

She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”

More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.

“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”

Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.

“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”

You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.

“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”

You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.

“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”

Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.

“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”

Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.

“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”

She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”

Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.

When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.

“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”

She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.

“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”

She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.

“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”

***

The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.

“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”

You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”

“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”

As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.

“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”

Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”

You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”

“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”

The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.

Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.

“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.

You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”

He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”

You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”

Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.

You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”

He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”

The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”

The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.

“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”

Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.

Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.

You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.

“But?” You prod gently.

Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”

Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”

You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”

Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”

A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.

You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”

Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.

You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”

Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”

It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”

Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”

***

It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.

“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”

You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”

He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”

“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”

Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”

“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”

He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”

“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”

The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.

“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”

You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”

For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”

Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”

“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.

You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”

“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”

You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”

Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?

“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”

You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”

He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.

Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”

“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”

“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”

You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”

“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.

You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”

“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”

Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”

He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”

You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”

Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”

You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”

***

You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.

The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”

You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”

He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”

“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.

A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”

Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.

You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”

Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.

“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.

Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”

You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”

He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”

You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”

Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”

“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”

Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”

You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”

The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.

You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.

“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.

You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”

You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”

Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...

“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”

You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”

Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”

You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”

Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”

You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”

As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.

“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.

The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.

“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”

You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”

“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”

Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”

You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”

He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.

“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”

Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.

“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.

“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”

She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.

“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”

You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.

Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”

As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.

“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.

You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”

Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.

“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”

Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.

The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.

“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”

Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”

She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.

“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.

It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.

Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”

Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.

“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”

When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”

You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”

Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”

A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”

“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”

You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.

“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”

As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.

“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”

With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.

Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”

You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”

Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.

As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.

***

Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.

This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.

Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.

“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”

You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.

“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”

Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.

“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.

“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.

As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”

Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”

You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.

Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.

Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.

You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.

Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.

“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.

Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.

Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.

Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.

“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!

You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.

Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.

As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”

“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”

Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”

The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”

Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.

Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

***

The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.

You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”

He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”

There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”

Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”

“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.

“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”

“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”

A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”

You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”

Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”

“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”

Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.

Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”

You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”

Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”

“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.

“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.

You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.

“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”

Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”

You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”

A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”

Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.

Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.

“You!”

The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.

“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”

You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.

The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.

After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.

Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.

Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:

“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.

Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”

Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.

As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.

The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.

Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.

On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.

Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.

They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.

The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.

At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”

He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”

The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.

The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.

You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.

Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.

But most of all, it’s home.

As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.

“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”

Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.

Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.

The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.

“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”

You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.

Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.

You did it.

World Champion at last!

You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.

Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.

And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.

The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.

“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.

“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”

You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”

Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.

You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.

“To our champion! The Queen!”

The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.

“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”

Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.

All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.

“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”

Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.

For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.

This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.

“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”

You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.

As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.

It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.

And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.

Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”

“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”

Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”

You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”

The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”

“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”

“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”

You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.

“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”

“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.

The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”

Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”

Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.

“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.

“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”

“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.

You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”

“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”

“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”

“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”

He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.

“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”

Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”

With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”

You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”

Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”

“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”

He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”

Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.

“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.

You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”

He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”

You and Charles share an amused look.

“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”

Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.

“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”

And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.

“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”

You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”

With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.

“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.

“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”

You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.

“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”

With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.

By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.

“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”

Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.

“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”

Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”

You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.

“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

[figsnpassionfruits]

Unexpected Tendencies

a/n: this basically happened w/ my bf so I had to turn it into a fic nsdjnsjk word count: 1k tags: logan howlett x fem!reader (can be read as gn!), smutty smut smut warnings: basically just bathroom sex, rough sex ig, daddy kink, implied age gap, praise kink, degradation, everything my heart longs for, 18+, mdni dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

Your fingers scratched on the oval mirror in front of you, desperate to get some sort of hold for some balance. There was no feeling in your hips anymore, the ramming against the edge of the sink now irrelevant. All you could think about was the man behind you, who had you bend over, both hands under your jaw, holding onto you like it was the only thing he was made to do.

The sounds in the bathroom consisted of the echoes of your skins clashing together, decorated with panting and moaning and the occasional filth coming out of Logan’s mouth here and there.

You? Yea, you were too fucked to even think about blurting anything that made sense.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You moan out, each one of the words matching the brutal pace Logan had on you. A hand of yours reached to get a grip on his wrist, your nails digging into his rough skin to cope with the pain that felt so good.

All Logan did as a response was release a chuckle, the speed and force of his thrusts remaining the same. “Getting fucked so well you can’t even speak huh, princess?” He mocked, grunting out the words as he travelled a hand of his to where your lower back meets your ass, clutching the skin as if it was the only thing worth holding on to in life.

You knew it would leave bruises; gosh you hoped it would leave bruises. Logan leaving his marks all over you, showing the world that you were his; yes. That was what you wanted. And that was exactly what you were getting.

The heels you decided to wear were starting to give in now. A foot of yours slipped further out, forcing Logan to squat a bit to adjust to the lowered height. The change of angle forced out a high-pitched moan out of you, his cock now hitting a spot that had yet been untouched tonight.

Out of sudden Logan stopped his thrusts, snickering at the whiny noises you were making, and replaced his rough pace with soft rolls of his hips. “Relax.” He purred into your ear, his hairy chest now leaning on your back, the texture of the sweaty hair tickling your skin. “Tell me what you want, love.” Logan breathed, pressing your leg that had moved back closer to the other.

“Please.” You whined, not knowing what you were asking for yourself. All you could do was reach your palm behind you to caress his face, silently begging him to do anything; just something.

Logan hummed at your gesture, finding it amusing. He turned his face into your hand, placing a single kiss there. “Gotta tell me what ya want.”

“Lo…”

“Hm?” He kept his hips rolling in the same motion as before, clearly enjoying the way you were struggling to form words. When there still was no answer from you, except for more panting, he moved his hand back to your face, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before tracing a finger around your lips.

Without thinking you opened your mouth slightly, allowing his finger in. Immediately your lips wrapped around his thick finger, sucking on the skin of the older man.

“Look at ya.” Logan mumbled, admiring your motions in the mirror, looking into your eyes through it. “Such a good girl. Can’t even talk but smart enough to do as she’s told.”

Moaning at his words you arched your back even further, urging him to get back to fucking you the way you wanted.

He picked up on your needs, let out another low chuckle, and stood up straight, both of his hands now resting on your ass as he pounded into you. Your moans now louder than ever, your eyes rolling back as far as possible, Logan was satisfied. This is exactly what he wanted to give to you; exactly what he thought you deserved. A proper fuck just for his girl.

“Fuck, fuck!” You moan out, hands now gripping the sides of the sink, the cold marble creating a contrast to your burning hot body temperature.

“You love this cock, don’t you?” Logan bragged, knowing exactly what kind of an effect he had on you. With a harsh flick of his wrist, he delivered a spank to your ass, gripping the exact spot he just hit. “Tell me you do.”

“Yes, fuck, I love it, daddy.” You moaned out, eyes widening at the realization of what you just said. Did I really just say that?

His hips faltered at your words, an eyebrow of him raising as a response to your words. “Did you just call me ‘daddy’?” Logan asked, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

You made eye contact with him through the mirror once again. This had never happened before. You had never called him that, nor have you ever had a conversation of where you talked about what you were into where this kink was mentioned. It had just slipped out. Given by his reaction, you did not know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. After letting a moment pass, you hesitantly gave him a small nod, biting your bottom lip in anticipation for his reaction.

But all Logan did was let out a breathy laugh, speeding up the snaps of his hips once again.  

Thank fuck.

“You're adorable.” He mocked once again, taking in the view he had in front of him. “Be good and tell daddy how much you love his cock, won’t ya?”

🍯

[tinycoffeeroom]

just friends pt. 2 | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

part 1!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

👤 flavy.barla liked by estebanocon, lilymhe and 64,285 others

y/nstagram me and my gf terrorise monaco 💗

flavy.barla that barista so wanted to throw that matcha at us ↳ y/nstagram because you took about 10 years deciding what drink you wanted!!! ↳ flavy.barla they all looked so good :(

fan flavs 🥹 i love their friendship so much ↳ y/nstagram wdym friendship thats my GIRL ↳ fan lando found dead in a ditch ♥️ y/nstagram ↳ fan SHADE

estebanocon can i have my girlfriend back now? ↳ y/nstagram nope she's mine :) ↳ estebanocon understandable

lilymhe me next!!!! ↳ y/nstagram come join us babygirl i have 2 hands xx ↳ alexandrasaintmleux what about me? :( ↳ y/nstagram we can link toes 💗

bffstagram seeing you happy makes my heart so 💝💖💕💞💓💗💘💖💕💞💓💘 ↳ y/nstagram i love you so intensely

fan still no lando like bro i'm in the trenches

liked by fan, fan and 38,948 others

f1gossipgirl ANNOUNCEMENT! We sat down with the mystery girl on all of your feeds to discuss those pictures with Lando Norris, Y/N L/N and the fallout from her recent introduction to the F1 world. Available at f1gossipgirl.com tomorrow 7PM GMT. You won't wanna miss this one!

fan not her using lando for fame

fan flop!

fan we will Not be tuning in xx

fan they better be just friends or i'm gonna be in lando's walls

fan if they're dating it's game over y/nlando'ers !!! ↳ fan bro i'll scream ↳ fan i'll cry ↳ fan i'll throw up ↳ fan i'll do all three simultaneously

fan hopefully people will leave them the fuck alone after this damn

fan not them asking her about y/n that's so shady ↳ fan if she mentions one bad word about y/n we ride at dawn

charlottehinchcliffe thank you for having me! :) ↳ fan 👀👀👀 ↳ fan homewrecker ↳ fan not too much on charlotte now we don't even know what happened

True to his word, 10 minutes later, Lando was at your door. Steeling yourself for the conversation ahead, you turn the lock and open the door to reveal a slightly out of breath Lando.

Eyeing him as he pants slightly, you lean against the doorframe. "You good?"

"Yeah!" He takes a moment to catch his breath, wiping his hands against his shorts. "I was at padel, so I had to run over."

You look at him incredulously. "The padel courts are a good 25 minutes from here, Lan, did you run here or something?"

In lieu of a verbal answer, he shrugs his shoulders, nudging his way into your apartment.

The two of you sit in silence on the sofa, both waiting for the other to begin speaking.

"I-" "So-"

You can't help but giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. Never once in your friendship with Lando had you ever felt so awkward to start a conversation. You gesture towards him, "you start."

He nods, turning to face you on the sofa. "Did I do something? Like we were good until Sass Cafe, and then it's like you just dropped off the face of the earth. I missed my best friend."

Your heart breaks at the way his face drops, blaming himself for something that was completely out of his control.

"Lan, no, it wasn't you, I promise. I'm sorry for ghosting you, I just needed some time to think some things through."

You reach forward and pat his hand, a purely friendly gesture.

"You can talk to me about anything, Y/N. What's going on?" His eyes are pleading, hand twisting around to grasp your own.

Sighing, you pull your hand away from his, missing the warmth immediately. "We need to stop hooking up."

You can tell that wasn't what he thought you were going to say from the way he stiffens, eyes wide and searching your own.

"Why? Did..." He trails off for a moment, eyes drifting down to the hand you pulled from his, "are you dating someone?"

You want to scoff. The only person you wanted to date was the one you were currently pushing away. "No, Lan. I'm not dating anyone. I think everything's just become too complicated, we need to just be best friends, nothing more, nothing less."

He looks hurt, mouth trying to form words as he takes a second to process your words. "Um, ok? I'm sorry? I didn't realise things were complicated..." There's a beat of silence between you before he speaks again. "Is this about the girl I was pictured with because I promise nothing happened between us."

He's almost begging, hands half reaching forward like he wants to grab yours before he catches himself, stilling in the air.

You shake your head, smiling softly at him. "No, I spoke to Charlotte, I know nothing happened. This is simply a me and you thing. Well, a me thing, I guess. You're my best friend and I love you but I need to do this for myself."

He's about to speak when your best friend comes waltzing through the front door. "Y/N! I got pastries from the cafe down the road, come get them while they're still warm!"

Walking into the living room, she stills at the sight of you and Lando on the sofa, hand carrying a bag of pastries stuck in the air. "I'll just..." She hurries off into the kitchen before either of you can say anything.

The two of you look at each other, tension in the air broken as you both laugh softly at your best friend.

"So, still best friends?" Lando's eyes are soft as they look at you.

"Always."

He leaves soon after, a shared hug in lieu of a goodbye. At the sound of the door closing, your best friend comes running through the kitchen door. "So?"

You fall back onto the sofa, tears lining your eyes. "Hand me the damn pastries."

f1gossipgirl uploaded a new article

📍 Bahrain

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,928,784 others

landonorris bahrain brought the bahpain... p9 with some car difficulties, but we try again for monaco! congrats to oscarpiastri on the podium, lets go!

see 98,928 other comments

fan bro's majestic

fan not him flopping when y/ns in the paddock ↳ fan when the camera panned to her and she looked... different... i need to know what happened ↳ fan f1gossipgirl posted an interview with the girl, nothing happened between them but we still don't know what happened between lando and y/n!! ↳ fan did you see her cheering when oscar finished p3? giggling

oscarpiastri cheers 👍🏼 ↳ fan go girl give us nothing! ↳ fan no but the photos of him and lily laughing with y/n after the race while lando was just standing in the garage watching them ↳ fan oscar is a girl's girl fr

📍 Bahrain

👤 lilynzeimer, y/nstagram liked by lilynzeimer, y/nstagram and 1,983,275 others

oscarpiastri me, my girlfriend and my girlfriend's girlfriend.

for real though, podium in bahrain is a big win for the team! shame we couldn't get more points but we regroup and prepare for monaco!

see 99,028 other comments

fan that caption is so shady im HOWLING

fan "we" aka lando norris

fan no bc something must have happened with y/n and lando for oscar to shade his own teammate

fan i love the gf's

fan the caption 😭😭 can't believe oscar admitted he's the third wheel in his own relationship ↳ oscarpiastri i've long since accepted that i am the side piece... ↳ lilynzeimer at least you're self aware ❤️

fan y/n the paddocks princess we love you

y/nstagram uploaded 2 stories

[caption 1: pasta is the way to my heart fr] [caption 2: 📍Bahrain] seen by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 79,482 others

fan MAN???? THERE IS A MAN !!!! PLEASE SAY ITS LANDO !!!! ↳ y/nstagram no it's charles! me, alex and him went out for a meal! :) ↳ fan ok best friends! love you y/n

alexandrasaintmleux the first story def looks like you're on a date ↳ y/nstagram i was... with you xxx ↳ y/nstagram people will probs think its lando 🤷‍♀️ ↳ y/nstagram unless you want me to take it down? i don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about me and charles ↳ alexandrasaintmleux you can have him tbh he keeps whining about how he's the side chick in the relationship

landonorris chill night alone huh? ↳ y/nstagram i got invited out last minute! 😁 ↳ landonorris who are you with? ↳ landonorris y/n??? ↳ landonorris fuck it i know that restaurant, i'm on my way

liked by fan, fan and 79,038 others

f1gossip Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were caught having a heated argument outside of a restaurant in Bahrain. Sources near the pair mentioned that Y/N met him outside then they were arguing about Y/N's recent instagram stories, with Lando insinuating she was on a date with one of his driver friends. He was then seen getting into a Lambourghini and leaving Y/N at the restaurant. Y/N was then flanked by Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend, Alexandra, who it appears Y/N was having dinner with.

See 10,275 other comments

fan i'm actually gonna fight him what the fuck

fan how can he just leave y/n there crying

fan y/n deserves so much better holy shit

fan landonorris not you flirting with another girl in sass then getting mad at y/n for *checks notes* having a meal with friends ↳ fan he wasn't flirting with charlotte, they're friends ↳ fan either way, he can't just get mad at y/n for having a potential date if they're not even together

fan did lando think y/n would openly cheat on him like that? ↳ fan not cheating if they were never together ↳ fan we don't know that ↳ fan they've said multiple times that they're just best friends, the shippers are the ones who have it in their heads that they're dating

alex's pov

👤 charles_leclerc, y/nstagram liked by y/nstagram, charles_leclerc and 92,395 others

alexandrasaintmleux my girl, the chauffeur and 3 wine glasses.

fan alex unprivating her account to say a big fuck you to lando 🤭🤭🤭

fan alex doesn't play when it comes to y/n ♥️ alexandrasaintmleux

fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ur loss big man ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris ↳ fan landonorris flop ↳ fan landonorris

y/nstagram love of my life and my entire heart and soul ↳ alexandrasaintmleux my future wife 💖

charles_leclerc can't believe i've been downgraded to chauffeur ↳ y/nstagram you literally drive for a living you're basically a chauffeur,,, just faster

fan alex and y/n one chance PLEASE

fan y/ns so gorgeous ik He fumbled but i could treat you so right please please pleeeeeeasssseeeeee ♥️ y/nstagram

fan alex using the same photo as y/ns story... i'm surprised she didn't circle all three glasses and send it to Him ↳ alexandrasaintmleux what makes you think i didn't 🤔 ↳ fan queen behaviour

📍 Italy

👤 alexandrasaintmleux liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 78,298 others

y/nstagram ethereal 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux i am so in love with you coucou please run away with me i have the ring ready and waiting ↳ y/nstagram anytime, anywhere my love 💖

charles_leclerc dude please stop being more in love with my girlfriend than me, the fans are rabid i cant fight !! ↳ y/nstagram 🤷🏻‍♀️ up your game before someone (me) snatches up the baddest bitch in monaco ↳ charles_leclerc i literally paid for you to go on a couples trip with her, i am stupid ↳ y/nstagram thanks sugar daddy xx ↳ charles_leclerc using me for my money, i see how it is y/n ↳ y/nstagram for your money and your girl* why else would i keep you around? ↳ fan y/n let him get up let him get up FIGHT BACK ↳ charles_leclerc i am terrified of her ♥️ y/nstagram

fan alex is so gorgeous holy shit

fan when i'm in a loving alex competition and my opponent is y/n l/n: 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

y/nstagram uploaded a story

You text Lando the day after you got back from Italy, wrapped in the safety of your best friends arms as you fire off a quick "you can come round". Again, within ten minutes Lando was outside your door. Your best friend answered, eyes laser focused on the sheepish man in front of her.

"Fix this or I'll spread a rumour that you cry when you cum."

Lando nods frantically at her, wide eyed and fully believing she would. If there's one thing he'd learnt since befriending you, it was that your best friend would lay her life on the line for you.

She frog marches Lando through the hallway and into the living room, nodding once at you before departing to her bedroom, not even bothering to check if Lando followed her.

You let your eyes linger on her until the bedroom door shuts, slowly moving your eyes to the man stood awkwardly in the doorway of the living room.

He looked terrible, dark rings circling now dull eyes, red rimmed and rubbed raw. His face looked gaunt, sunken in cheeks and downturned lips. You watch his brows furrow as he tries to think of what to say first.

Beating him to it, you gesture to the sofa. "Sit."

He moves as if on autopilot, choosing to sit the furthest away from you, half hanging off the sofa cushion as if he was ready to bolt at any moment. You have flashbacks to the last time you two met like this and you can't help but fear that this will be the last time he ever steps foot in your apartment.

"Y/N-"

Silencing him with a wave of your hand, you allow your eyes to rake over his face one more time, just in case it was the last. "No, Lando. You've said more than enough, it's time I get to speak."

He nods in response, hands wringing nervously in his lap.

The original plan had been to let him explain and see if he would apologise for the things he said, but during your girls trip with Alex, something had changed.

The two of you were swinging softly in the hammock on the patio of the villa Charles had rented out for the two of you, Alex stroking your hair as you recalled everything that had happened from the moment you met Lando.

The shy beginnings, the budding friendship and the drunken nights spent wrapped in his bedsheets.

She'd wrapped her free arm around your sun soaked skin when you began to cry, trying to make sense of where everything had gone so wrong.

Whispering soft words of encouragement into your hair, she reminded you that no matter how much you loved him, he had no right to speak to you the way that he did, whether it be as a boyfriend, best friend or acquaintance.

Pulling yourself back into the present, you sigh quietly before speaking. "I'm not sure where we went so wrong. I love being your best friend, I really do and I would do anything for us to go back to being just that, but I think both you and I know that can't happen."

Another nod from him, shoulders tense and still as if he was holding his breath.

"The first time we hooked up after your podium in Silverstone, I assumed it would be a one off. Too many drinks, too many high spirits and despite the girls vying for your attention, you knew I was the easiest option who would never tell anyone what happened."

Lando goes to interrupt you, eyes pleading. "It wasn't like that-"

You throw him a look, a reminder that this was your time to let out everything you had been holding in since that first night.

"When I woke up and you immediately said it was a mistake, I agreed. Wrote it off as something silly. Then it happened again and again and again. Each time, before I'd even wiped the sleep out of my eyes, you'd be staring at the ceiling, reminding me that it was just a mistake. At first it didn't hurt because I'd agreed, or at least I thought I'd agreed, but then we grew closer as friends. You'd pull me on your lap for a movie night, or twirl me around before one of your parties and tell me how pretty I looked, and somewhere along the line, I fell in love."

You refused to look at him at the last sentence, too scared to see what would be reflected in his eyes.

"It was stupid to keep hooking up with you after that, but I couldn't stop myself. It felt so good to be wanted by you. Every time we'd hook up, I'd smile and agree it was a mistake then go home and cry in one of the girls' arms. The last time, after Sass, I sat down with best friend and told her everything. She reminded me that I'm worth so much more than a drunken hook up, and for once, I finally agreed."

You allowed yourself to look at Lando then, heart twisting at the sight. Tears lined guilt filled eyes, those god damn eyes. He looked like someone had just punched him in the gut, mouth open in a slight downturned pout as he stared back at you.

"That's why I became so distant, I was trying to save our friendship. And then, those photos of you and Charlotte came out and I was jealous, so fucking jealous. Here I was, tearing myself apart at home while you were busy hitting on other girls." Ignoring the affronted noise from Lando, you continue. "I know now that wasn't the case, but it hurt so much. I genuinely felt like my heart was breaking in two."

Wiping the few tears that fell down your cheeks with the back of your hand, you smiled softly at him. "Then we met up and everything became a bit easier. I thought maybe we could, well I could, work through this. I could unlearn to love you and we could be best friends again."

Lando lets out a noise akin to a whine, tears finally escaping his eyes, dripping down to his chin. You resist the urge to reach out and brush them away, your own tears marring your vision.

"That night in Bahrain, I really had just wanted to stay at home and get an early night. Then Alex had texted me, and you know her, the girl doesn't take no for an answer." You try and laugh, the sound coming out flat and warbled at the same time. "I was trying to not be on my phone too much and that's why I didn't reply to your other messages. Charles offered to go out and speak to you but that wasn't fair on him, this wasn't his mess to fix."

Seeing Lando stare at you so gloomily from your sofa was becoming a little too much for you to handle, soft sobs echoing between the two of you. You stand from the sofa, moving to the window in your living room, eyes trained on the setting sun.

"The things you said that night really hurt, Lando. We've never argued in the entire time we've been friends, not even a little friendly one. You were so angry at the idea of me seeing one of your driver friends and I couldn't figure out why. We'd joked about me dating one of them before, hell, you even asked if I wanted Daniel's number after we snuck off at that house party to tie all your shoelaces together before he starting seeing Heidi..."

This time, Lando successfully cuts you off. "Do you really not know why?" His voice is gravelly, molasses thick around the edges.

Shaking your head, you hear him stand up from the sofa too, sock clad feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. When he speaks next, you can tell he's right behind you.

"I was jealous." The sound of him ruffling his hair floats through the silence between you. "When we met up and you said you wanted to stop hooking up, even if you were adamant that you weren't seeing someone new, I couldn't get that thought out of my head. Sure, our friendship is, was, a bit unconventional, but I thought it worked. I thought we worked. I had no idea it was hurting you and so when it ended, that was the only reason I could think of."

Looking through the glass of the window, your eyes lock with Lando's, his stare equal parts intense and regretful.

"And then I thought you were blowing me off in Bahrain and it was like a switch flipped. The thought of you ignoring me and being with someone who wasn't me made me feel sick to my stomach. It's the same feeling I get when you show me a silly meme Logan sent you or when I saw you and Dan giggling quietly and having to hold each other up in my hallway."

Gaze unwavering, he studies your face through the window pane. "Can you turn around and look at me properly, please?"

Unable to ignore the pleading in his voice, you turn slowly on the spot. The two of you are less than a foot apart, a few inches closer and you'd be able to see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"There you are." A small smile crosses his lips. "I thought it was anger at you blatantly avoiding me, but then I remembered how my first thought when the photos of me and Charlotte came out wasn't 'my PR team's gonna fucking kill me', it was 'I need to tell Y/N it isn't true'."

He shuffles closer, hand reaching out to rest against your jaw. Using his thumb to swipe the stream of tears flowing down your face, he lowers his voice to a whisper.

"Every time I told you that us hooking up was a mistake, I was wrong. The mistake was me not realising how ridiculously in love I am with you."

You try to speak, a small whine escaping your lips, only audible because of the quietness of the apartment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I should have never spoken to you like that in Bahrain. I only ever want to see you happy, to see your nose scrunch at how wide you're smiling, to hear you laugh loud and unabashedly. Knowing I hurt you, and have been hurting you for months, breaks my heart and I'm so angry at myself for not letting you explain. I love you and I want to be with you, but I understand I've hurt you and it's ok if you don't want that too."

Tears glimmer in his eyes again, smile soft and warm but tinged with remorse. He scans your face, looking for your answer in lieu of a verbal one.

Reaching a shaking hand up to cover his on your jaw, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to savour the warmth of his palm. "I want that. I want to love and be loved by you."

You open your eyes, meeting his brightened gaze.

"Really?" He sounds and looks awestruck, the weight of possibly losing you physically dropping off his shoulders, his body relaxing as he melts at the sight of you smiling gently. "You're sure?"

You nod, matching his fond smile. "I'm sure."

His thumb traces your bottom lip, eyes drawn to the movement. Before he can ask, you use your free hand to grab the front of his t-shirt, dragging him until the two of you are pressed chest to chest.

"Kiss me, Lando."

His name gets muffled as he presses his lips to yours fervently. Warm, syrup soaked and something that could only be described as Lando. Not a trace of alcohol, a distant memory of how this normally went. You decide then and there that this was your favourite taste.

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, eliminating any possible space that could come between the two of you. Each time your lips part, he whispers a soft "I love you", the sound being inhaled by you.

Slipping an arm around your waist and digging his fingers into the flesh, he revels in your gasp, tongue slipping between your lips to find your own.

Your body flares up at the feeling, each nerve ending scorching hot and tinging with electricity. You whisper "I love you's" back with each parting, one hand still wrapped in the fabric of his t-shirt as the other slides up the back of his shirt, tracing the map of his muscles.

You giggle as he shivers at the touch, finally allowing the two of you to breathe as he joins you, the kiss becoming more teeth than lips. He drags you into his arms, the hand in your hair moving down to interlink with the one wrapped around your waist.

Nudging his nose against your temple, he moves his head until his lips are level with your ear.

"Be mine?"

You hum into his neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin. "I already was."

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintleux and 11 others

y/npriv not one mean comment, that's boyfie!

lilymhe 🤐 ↳ flavy.barla 🤐 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux 🤐 ↳ francisca.c.gomes 🤐 ↳ lilynzeimer 🤐 ↳ heidiberger_ 🤐 ↳ carmenmmundt 🤐 ↳ kellypiquet 🤐 ↳ iamrebeccad 🤐 ↳ landonorris were you silent or were you silenced ↳ alexandrasaintmleux don't even try it norris

francisca.c.gomes on a real note, i'm happy for you, truly 💗 (please tell me he grovelled) ↳ landonorris i was 2 seconds away from getting down on my knees and begging ↳ francisca.c.gomes good. ♥️ alexandrasaintmleux, lilynzeimer, lilymhe, heidiberger_, carmenmmundt, kellypiquet, iamrebeccad, flavy.barla

lilymhe how did you even get in here landonorris ↳ landonorris begged her to let me in ↳ lilynzeimer you seem to be doing a lot of begging recently ↳ landonorris ??? you're meant to be the nice one ↳ lilynzeimer blame my boyfriends influence :)))))

📍Miami

liked by y/nstagram, carlossainz and 1,028,982 others

landonorris P1. Grand Prix Winner. It wasn't too much for little lando norris... feels absolutely surreal, I'll post something more eloquent when I've stopped shaking 🧡

See 989,283 other comments

fan GRAND PRIX WINNER LANDO NORRIS !!!!! THAT FEELS SO GOOD TO TYPE!!!!

carlossainz congratulations muppet, lets get drunk!!!!! ♥️ landonorris ↳ scuderiaferrari not too drunk mr sainz

maxverstappen1 proud to come second to you, mr norris! congratulations 💙 ♥️ landonorris

oscarpiastri proud of you bud! ♥️ landonorris

danielricciardo HE RACES LIKE A LION, SHOULDN'T HE BE DUTCH ♥️ landonorris

pitstopboys time to get back in the studio!

mclaren never doubted you, papaya forever! 🧡 ↳ landonorris papaya forever!!

y/nstagram so beyond proud,,, soak it all in lan ❤️ ↳ landonorris i'm so happy i flew you out for this one ↳ fan Y/NLANDO ARE BACK????? MY KING AND QUEEN????? ↳ fan i hope he was crying, screaming and begging on his knees to get y/n back ↳ landonorris i was prepared to ↳ fan LANDO????

fan y/n running at him full pelt and knocking them over in parc ferme... my parents fr ↳ fan the way he didn't cry until he saw y/n's smile... im lying down on the highway

fan y/nlando make up, lando wins a grand prix... she's his good luck charm ♥️ landonorris

liked by landonorris, bffstagram and 89,728 others

y/nstagram my love, my light, my grand prix winner. words can't even begin to describe how proud i am of you. forever in awe of all that you do ❤️

landonorris i love you so much, i couldn't have done this without you my love ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram i love you, come give me another kiss RIGHT NOW ↳ landonorris 🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️

bffstagram everyone cheer i didn't have to go to jail!! ♥️ y/nstagram

fan HARD LAUNCH??? ↳ y/nstagram lbr we've been unknowingly hard launching for a while now hahahaha

fan ok cute and all but i still haven't forgiven him for bahrain ↳ y/nstagram well i have, and honestly that's all that matters ↳ fan just don't want to see you hurt y/n ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram and i love you for that 💖 but we're all good, i promise

fan ik the grovelling was Excellent for her to dedicate a whole post to him ↳ y/nstagram just wanna celebrate my boyfie 🫶🫶 (it was) ↳ landonorris say that again ↳ y/nstagram my boyfriend ❤️ ↳ fan yeah y'all are cute and all but i'm perpetually single and a hater so out of my replies (love you guys)

estebanocon loving mitski lyrics!!!!! he did it guys!!!! ↳ y/nstagram loving mitski lyrics!! also thank you este, i owe you and flavy lunch! ↳ flavy.barla do we have to invite him? ↳ estebanocon sometimes it do be your own girlfriend ♥️ y/nstagram

alexandrasaintmleux i'm still your favourite though? :( ↳ francisca.c.gomes actually, that's me ↳ lilymhe no me ↳ y/nstagram before y'all start this again, my gaggle of girlfriends will always be my favourite 💝 ♥️ alexandrasaintmleux, lilynzeimer, lilymhe, heidiberger_, carmenmmundt, kellypiquet, iamrebeccad, flavy.barla ↳ landonorris i love me, my girlfriend and my girlfriends 10 girlfriends ↳ lilymhe hey, we had her first! ♥️ y/nstagram

charlottehinchliffe so happy for you two!!! 🩵 ↳ y/nstagram thank you!! i hope you're well! 💜

kellypiquet what was that about max being behind lando? ↳ y/nstagram KELLY ↳ y/nstagram i reverse manifested it, lando ur welcome for your win xx ↳ landonorris ??? ↳ y/nstagram i forgot you weren't on my priv until recently, ignore that ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

well, part 2 is a little bit of a long one! i had so much fun working on this and i hope it lives up to your expectations! ♡ (to the anon who wanted lando to cry, this is for you)

tag list: @formulaal @tinyhrry @tiniiii44 @appl3-0rchard @luvrrish @405rry @whentheautumnleavesfall @callsignwidow @dinodumbass @northernlights19 @spctrfilms @some-girl-lost-in-this-world @ushygushybaby @motherofslay123 @ssararuffoni @littlementalpolaroids @headinthecloudssblog @eclipsedcherry @charlesgirl16 @someonewhosfallenapart @random-human02 @lightdragonrayne @fearfam69691 @meltingcherryz @noneofyourfbusinessworld @bernelflo @myescapefromthislife @eiaaasamantha @s0meth1ngs @littlehoneyfreak @customsbyjcg-blog @lifeless-firefly @esserenorris @ironmaiden1313 @harrysdimple05 @keisouy @dannyriccsupremacy @formula1simp @mehrmonga @sunny44 @saythename-sm @mayplesyrupsainz @love-simon @iliyad @daemyratwst @lunamelona @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @littlegrapejuice @rafegirly @youreverydayfangirl @honethatty12 @latenightescapes-95

[sushiyuzu]

afterparty

warning: fluff + tension + pet names (“kitten” & “sweetie”)

summary: in return for your presence, sylus shows his affection towards you ❤️ [ x fem!reader ]

disclaimer: this fanfiction is inspired by one of sylus’s card (radiant brilliance) from the game “love and deepspace”. while i have taken elements from the original, i have rewritten it in my own style and added my own twists.

note: this story is a work of fiction and is NOT intended to represent the original game’s narrative.

word count: 2.03k

- second acc: @blushpawss

“sylus! sylus! sylus!”

the energy in the arena was intense, with the crowd roaring and chanting sylus’s name. he had just claimed victory, and the spotlight shone on him, making his silver hair glint like moonlight. his crimson eyes scanned the crowd, and then they found you—standing there with a bouquet of flowers in your hands. you had come all this way, just to support him, to be by his side, and that meant more to him than any trophy.

as he walked over to you, wiping the sweat from his brow, his gaze softened. “someone came all the way here to watch me,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “she said she didn’t want to see me lose.” his voice was low, laced with affection, as he stepped closer.

you couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “well, i couldn’t just stay home knowing you had this big match. and... i knew you’d win,” you said, feeling a little shy as you handed him the bouquet. your heart raced as his fingers brushed yours, taking the flowers from your hands with a soft chuckle.

“these are beautiful. but not as beautiful as you,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. the weight of his words made your chest tighten, the flutter of excitement growing stronger inside you.

“you’re so cheesy,” you muttered, but your smile never left your face. before you could say more, sylus reached into his pocket, pulling out something that gleamed in the light. it was his champion ring.

“you know,” he began, his eyes locked on yours, “i don’t wear this for myself. i wear it because you’re the reason i’m here. i wouldn’t have made it this far without you.” he held the ring up, his expression serious yet full of warmth. “so, tell me, kitten—what finger do you want me to put this on?”

you blinked, taken by surprise. your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the ring, then back at sylus. he was offering you more than just a ring; it was a symbol of everything you meant to him. you hesitated for a moment, then softly said, “my ring finger...”

sylus’s grin widened as he carefully took your hand in his. his touch was warm, and as he slipped the ring onto your finger, a wave of emotion washed over you. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you could feel the possessiveness in his gesture. it wasn’t overwhelming—it was reassuring, protective. he was claiming you in his own way, showing you that you were his, and that he was yours.

“perfect,” he said, admiring the way the ring looked on your hand. “now you’re officially mine,” he added, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sent a shiver through you.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “i think it’s the other way around—you’re mine,” you teased, looking up at him. his crimson eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something deeper there too—something soft and tender that made your heart ache in the best way.

“i guess we belong to each other then,” he said, pulling you closer to him. his broad arm wrapped around your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of you being too far from him.

the crowd had started to disperse, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, lost in your own world. sylus held his phone up, ready to take a picture. “let’s capture this moment,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. you smiled for the camera, your body leaning into his as his arm tightened around you. you felt the warmth of his chest against your back, his steady heartbeat thrumming in time with yours.

as you smiled at the camera, sylus wasn’t looking at it. instead, his eyes were fixed on you, his expression soft and filled with affection. there was something almost vulnerable in the way he gazed at you, like you were the only person in the world who could make him feel this way. before the picture snapped, sylus leaned down, closing his eyes and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“this,” he whispered against your hair, “this is all i need.” he clicked the photo, capturing not just the image but the moment—the feeling of him holding you close, the way he kissed you with such tenderness, the connection you both shared.

after the picture, he didn’t let go. instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck for a brief moment, inhaling the scent of your hair. “you have no idea how much i love you,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel the sincerity in his words, the depth of his feelings wrapped up in every syllable.

you turned in his arms, looking up at him, and saw the way his eyes softened even more. his silver hair, now slightly tousled from the fight, framed his face perfectly. “i love you too, sylus,” you said, your voice just as soft. you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “and i’m so proud of you.”

his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “you’re the only reason i ever want to win,” he said, his voice deep and full of emotion. he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss that made the world around you fade away. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “thank you for being here. for always being here.”

as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you knew that this moment—this quiet, tender moment—was something you’d hold onto forever. the picture on his phone was just a snapshot, but the memory, the love, would last a lifetime.

the afterparty had been a whirlwind of celebration. sylus was the center of attention, but no matter how many people congratulated him, his eyes never left you for long. you stayed by his side, feeling the heat of his presence even in a crowded room. as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the way his touches became more lingering, his hand never straying far from the small of your back.

by the time the party started to wind down, it was already late, and sylus insisted on taking you back to his place. “it’s too late for you to go home alone,” he said, his crimson eyes dark with something more than concern. “besides, kitten... i want you with me tonight.”

you didn’t argue. you couldn’t—not when he looked at you like that, his voice sending shivers down your spine. the drive to his mansion was quiet but charged with anticipation. you could feel the tension building between you two, like a wire pulled taut, just waiting to snap.

sylus’s mansion was massive, secluded in the hills, far away from the city. the moment you stepped inside, you felt the quiet stillness of the place, but it wasn’t cold. the warmth came from him, from the way his hand lingered on your waist as he led you inside.

“make yourself at home,” he said, his voice low as he closed the door behind you. the soft click echoed through the spacious foyer. “you’ll be staying the night, after all.”

you smiled, feeling a little nervous but excited. “are you sure i’m not intruding?”

sylus chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “kitten, you could never intrude. i want you here.” his hand slid to your hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your skirt. “besides, i promised to take care of you, didn’t i?”

his words were teasing, but there was an edge to them, something that made your heart race. “i guess i’m in your hands tonight,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but the way his eyes darkened told you that he picked up on the teasing note in your voice.

“in my hands...” sylus repeated, his voice a low rumble. “i like the sound of that.”

you felt a shiver run through you as he took your hand, gently pulling you toward the grand staircase that led to the upper floors. his grip was firm but tender, and the heat of his palm against yours sent sparks dancing along your skin.

as you climbed the stairs together, the silence between you was thick with tension. every step seemed to heighten the anticipation, the closeness of his body to yours making your pulse quicken. when you finally reached his bedroom, sylus pushed the door open and led you inside.

the room was large, the bed enormous, but your attention was on him. sylus turned to you, his eyes locking with yours as he stepped closer, crowding your space until your back was pressed against the edge of the bed.

“you know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “i still owe you for coming all the way to watch me fight. for cheering me on, for being there with flowers...” his hand came up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “i should thank you properly.”

before you could respond, sylus leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “unless you’re too tired...” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

your heart was racing, every inch of you aware of how close he was. “i’m not that tired,” you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you intended. the way his lips curled into a smirk told you he liked your answer.

“good,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. his hands slid down to your waist, his grip firm as he lifted you effortlessly onto the bed. “because i’ve been waiting all night for this,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering over yours. “to finally have you all to myself.”

his words made your breath hitch, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. the kiss was slow but deep, a teasing pressure that left you wanting more. sylus was in no rush, his hands sliding down your sides, tracing the curve of your hips.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his crimson eyes gleaming with heat. “you’re so beautiful, kitten. especially when you’re all mine.” his voice was low, filled with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, but sylus was in control. he leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses that made you shiver. “sylus...” you whispered, your voice breathless.

“mm?” he hummed against your skin, his hands sliding under your top, his touch warm and slow. “tell me what you want,” he teased, his lips moving against your collarbone.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the rush of heat spreading through you. “i want you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

his smirk widened as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “i like the way you say that,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your side, teasing the hem of your skirt. “but i’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

he leaned down again, kissing you with more intensity this time, his hands roaming over your body with a deliberate slowness that left you breathless. the teasing, the flirting, the tension—it was all building, and sylus was enjoying every second of it.

“you’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his voice a low growl. “and tonight, i’m going to remind you just how much you belong to me.”

[cinnahoons]

𝜗𝜚 oh, guava! — p. lee heeseung x fem!reader w. 672 genres. fluff, established relationship, tickling cause it's cute, beach setting cw. none notes. this was super random but i wanted to write silly domestic hee my bad guys

“you smell really nice.”

you drop the fashion magazine you’re reading, sunglasses sliding down your nose by the sheer force of how hard you whip your head towards your boyfriend.

“oh god. not here, heeseung.”

he’s the picture of innocence, laid out on the pink towel he’d picked from the options you’d shown him before coming to the beach. he’s using his elbows to prop himself up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. his burnt-orange hair flutters in the wind.

“is it the new perfume i bought you? the guava one?”

you narrow your eyes at him before pushing your sunglasses back into position, lying down on your own yellow towel with your magazine propped above your head, blocking out the sun. 

“mm-mm. i’m ignoring you.”

there’s a moment of serenity where you think heeseung has given up, but then he makes a dramatic show of rolling off his beach towel onto yours. there’s a little sliver of golden sand between them, so he sprays some onto your skin when he presses his body against yours.

you swat at him with your magazine, fighting back an amused grin.

“you’re so stupid! get off me.” you’re trying your best to sound annoyed, but he’s wriggling against you like a worm, and, frankly, it’s messing with your psyche. 

“sorry, i can’t help it. i’m hungry.” he bites your shoulder playfully. “can i eat you, oh guava princess?”

you groan in exasperation, shielding the blush on your cheeks with your hand. hopefully, he thinks it's just a sunburn.

“have you gotten to the part where they find the golden mango?” you gesture languidly at the abandoned book on heeseung’s towel. you’d recommended it to him so that the two of you can discuss your favorite parts, and he typically reads everything you suggest. today, you’ve been waiting patiently to hear his thoughts. heeseung smirks.

“that’s a non-answer.”

“that’s also a non-answer.”

your boyfriend watches you for a couple of seconds, seemingly mulling over your rebuttal. eventually, he gives you a wide grin.

“okay. yes.”

at that, you let out a surprised giggle, eyebrows raising. he usually plays your game a little longer.

“interesting. you drive a hard bargain.”

heeseung smiles. 

“only for you, baby.”

you can’t hide your blush now. heat flushes on your cheeks, and you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling back at him too hard. he’s still lying on your towel next to you.

“fine. but,” you turn over a little, a manicured hand coming down on heeseung’s bare chest. “if i pee myself or something, it’s over for you. i drank two whole lemonades before this.” your boyfriend only watches you with an amused glimmer in his eyes, rosy fondness painted across his cheeks.

“no promises.”

you barely have a second to complain before heeseung springs into action, his typical routine of launching himself over you to barrage you with tickles inciting a bout of giggles from your mouth. he keeps most of his body weight off of you, leaning down to press chaste kisses against your cheek as he continues his assault on the sides of your torso.

he’s enveloped in what is indeed the new guava perfume he purchased for you, laughing when he makes you giggle by letting out a cartoony whistle near your neck. it’s all fun—it always is, when you’re with him. 

he’s relentless today, red in the cheeks from laughing at the shrieks coming from your mouth. he smells like sunscreen and coconut.

“i think,” he pants, when he’s finally tickled you into exhaustion, “that i’ve fulfilled my duty.”

you give him a humorously deadpan look. 

“you think?”

his cheeks scrunch up with a smile, before leaning down and planting a sweet kiss against your lips.

“mhm.”

“you’re so lucky i didn’t pee myself.”

“oh, i know,” he says, rolling off of you and crawling slowly back to his towel. “but you will when you hear what i have to say about this book.”

you sit up, lightning fast.

“lee heeseung!”

© cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.

tags! @vousty @neos127 @aenify @junityy @en-ner-jay

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Of claws and waffles

I'm preparing to write the rest of the Steddie Angsty August during my vacation at the end of September, I want to enjoy the rest of the prompts and not be stressed. But in the meantime...have Steve cosplaying as Wolverine, a very judgmental Deadpool Eddie, and maybe a small X-23 too?

"Ugh, can you believe that?" Eddie gestured towards a guy in his mid-thirties dressed as the Wolverine. "Another jock jumping on the bandwagon without knowing anything about the comics. Saw it once in the movie theater, thought the costume would do wonders for his arms, bought it on ebay. I'm gonna be sick in my mask."

Even through the limited visibility of his Deadpool mask, Eddie saw Chrissy roll her eyes at his theatrics. "Go ahead. At least you'll wash it after the convention. By hand, because as you told me, the fabric is sensitive."

He just grumbled. She was right, as usual.

"You are so full of self-righteous fury, Eddie, but even through the mask, I can see you staring at that man's ass. And shoulders. And everything."

He threw his head back, almost howling. "Now you're just being mean."

"Plus," she continued, disregarding her best friend's whining, "You're not exactly being fair. You don't know him."

Now he rolled his eyes, but of course she couldn't see him. "I know his type. He's the high school sweetheart who spent most of his time in the gym or practicing moving his godly body or something."

 Chrissy smiled at him, that overly beaing smile that told him in an instant that he'd said something stupid. "Ah. So like me."

"I..." he gulped, "I think I'm just going to shut up now."

He tried looking around for something, anything to redirect the conversation. Suddenly, a perfect topic changer appeared in his sight. "Okay, but that's the cutest thing I've ever seen," he nudged Chrissy and pointed at the scrawny girl, twelve or so, dressed up as X-23. "Her parents must be amazing."

Chrissy's laughter rang in his ears. "Oh, I agree," she said. As if she knew something he didn't.

He choked on his words when the girl ran back to THAT Wolverine and took his hand. "Oh for fuck's sake."

"You said it," she nudged him. "Amazing parents."

As if that wasn't humiliating enough, before Eddie could find a shovel to dig a hole to disappear into, the girl noticed him and her face split in a wide smile. "Dad! Dad, look! Mr. Pool!" She started leading him to Eddie and Chrissy through the crowd.

Oh cool. If only Eddie could do something dignified to avoid the meeting, like faint or vomit, that would be awesome. But he couldn't disappoint the girl. She had a look of absolute joy in her eyes, and he'd be damned if he was the one to make it disappear.

So instead, he leaned into the character.

"Look at you, aren't you the cutest little clawed thing I've ever seen!" he announced to the whole world. "The deadliest tiny creature, very ferocious! Yes, you are!"

He knelt down to her level and even through the consistent noise of the convention, he could hear her giggling. "I am!"

"Come on, tiny terror. Give me your best Wolverine-y growl!"

To his delight, she crouched, imitated the battle pose of X-23 and roared at him like a dinosaur. Then, in a more quiet tone, "Was that good?"

"Good?! Only good?! Do you hear her, bub?" he addressed the Wolverine who hovered over both of them. "You, little lady, were absolutely amazing! 10/10, no notes, this is your calling in life."

He felt someone move behind his back, and of course it was the traitor, ahem, Chrissy, approaching them with a camera. "I'm sorry to disturb you guys, but you make such an amazing group. Can I take your picture?"

And okay, maybe Eddie misjudged the Jockerine, because the guy ruffled X-23's hair and told her, "OK, just this once, you can say it. Swearing permitted. Ready?"

They pulled Eddie to them, and as he unsheathed his katana replicas, the Wolverine and his daughter crouched, roared at the camera, and said together, "Let's fucking go."

Eddie's traitorous mouth said exactly what he was thinking. "Oh my god. Are you single?" Which was objectively a stupid thing to say even to someone he'd met longer than two minutes ago.

The Wolverine blinked at him.

X-23 giggled and said: "dad is single. Maybe he doesn't have to be now?"

To the guy's credit, he didn't seem offended. He just laughed and ran his hand through his absolutely majestic hair that was perfectly stylized into Wolverine's. Shit. The hair. First the body, the face, and now the hair. "Now, El. Mr. Pool here probably doesn't want to be matched with the first Wolverine he sees."

And maybe it was the costume that made him so brave, but the guy was hot, nice, and his daughter was adorable, so Eddie wasn't to be blamed for what he said next, okay? "Uh, actually," he raised his hands, "you're perhaps my tenth Wolvie or so. And clearly the superior one. Having this absolutely adorable - and terrifying! - young lady by your side is also a plus. So...and feel free to stab me, or maybe just tell me no, but - I saw a really nice waffle stand outside. Let me treat you and...El?" The girl nodded, beaming at him. "...to a waffle? Or coffee, water, your choice."

El tugged at the guy's arm again. "Waffle!" she whispered so loud even Chrissy heard it.

He smiled at Eddie, and fuck. Eddie was a goner. "I think that's a yes."

...

Chrissy had ditched them to go hang out with her girlfriend, so Steve, Eddie and El were on their own.

They were sitting outside, Eddie slurping his bubble tea through a straw, mask still in place except for the bottom of his face, Steve - as the guy had introduced himself - sipping his coffee and diligently watching El chatting with other kids, nibbling on her waffles.

"So, is this your first convention?" Eddie asked. "Your kid is amazing, man. She's so happy to be here and she makes an amazing X-23."

Steve smiled and peeled his eyes from El for a second. "Yeah. I promised to take her this year, but after she saw Logan and the third Deadpool movie, she begged to go in a costume. And I just couldn't say no to her."

"She saw..." Eddie coughed. "Steve, sorry to question your parenting, but isn't she a bit too young for those movies?"

"Oh, she is," Steve snorted. "And she shouldn't have seen them. But we live alone, so I usually watch movies at home when she goes to sleep. If she goes to sleep. As she should."

"Are you telling me-"

Steve nodded. "Yep. She's incredibly sneaky. I found out the hard way when I finished the latest Alien and went to check on her in her bed. She wasn't there. I almost had a heart attack, turned the house upside down. I was about to call the police when she peeked at me from behind a curtain that I checked at least twice, and she was asking me if I was mad at her. So...uh. We discussed quite a lot from those movies afterwards, but there's no stopping her if she wants to do something."

Eddie laughed so hard he almost breathed in a tapioca pearl. "Oh wow. But good parenting! Not that I'm one to judge."

Watching El share waffles with her new friends, Steve pressed his lips together. "Yeah, I don't know about that. I'm just doing my best here, but I'm constantly terrified I'm doing something wrong. I adopted her, you know. From...a very bad situation. She couldn't properly talk or anything. So when she saw X-23 on screen, I think she related to her somehow. I've never seen her so excited about anything, so the costume was a must have. She's looking forward to going next year as well, when her hair finally grows long enough. Wig," he added at Eddie's confused silence.

"I mean, I get that," said Eddie as he set down his empty cup. "Cosplaying can be therapeutic. It's actually what my therapist suggested when I got...uh. Injured. And also how I got into cosplaying Deadpool."

"Injured?" Steve didn't sound judgmental, only curious, but Eddie had been in this situation before. Time to rip of the bandaid. He pulled off his mask and forced himself to meet Steve's eyes. "Uh. Yeah. Injured."

He knew he wasn't Deadpool kind of disfigured, but he was well used to the stares in his daily life. He kept the hair, which, hooray, good for him. But he had ugly bite scars on his neck and jawline, some going even to his cheeks. A chunk of his ear was missing too. "It was a dog when I was a kid," he said so that Steve wouldn't have to ask. "Plastic surgery is an option, they say, but it's expensive. And I don't really feel like having my face cut open again, so...yeah." 

"Wow. I'm sorry."

Eddie took a deep breath. "Well, yeah. Not great. Listen, Steve. I'm super confident behind the mask, and thank you for humoring me. But this," he pointed to his face, "is usually a deal-breaker for people. So if it is for you, that's fine."

"It's not."

Eddie blinked. Then again. That wasn't how it had usually gone. "Huh?"

"I mean," said Steve, and shit, he laid his hand on Eddie's knee, when was this his life? What was happening? "I'm sorry it happened to you, but I don't get why it should matter."

"Uuuuh...because you're like, super hot? And you might want someone like that next to you?"

Steve snorted. "Bold of you to assume I don't have my own gnarly scars. I was just more lucky in their placement." When Eddie stared at him, he added: "I'm a paramedic. It happens. I rarely have time for anything, not to mention dating, but when I see a cool and funny guy give my daughter the ultimate Deadpool experience - by the way, waffles are her favorite food - and then he asks me out for a coffee? Hell. I'd be stupid to refuse."

Oh. Eddie suddenly felt a bit like crying. He forced himself to speak up, to have that final confirmation. "So, uh...this," he pointed at his face, "isn't a problem?"

"Nope. And, if you'd like a sort of quote from the first Deadpool movie with that..." Steve laughed, and Eddie knew what was coming even before he said it, "After some talking and getting to know each other...it's a face I'd be happy to sit on."

Eddie grasped at his chest. "Oh wow. You truly know the way to a man's heart."

He laughed and winked at Eddie. "This is the part when you ask for my number."

Eddie had never pulled out his phone faster in his life.

..

Much later, after Eddie showed El around the convention, after many pictures and wonderful memories, Eddie ran into Chrissy again. He was about to introduce her to Steve and El properly, but Chrissy smiled at him - once again that all knowing smile, why?! - and waved at her girlfriend.

"So, Eddie. I see you've met Robin's best friend, Steve."

Robin snickered and pressed a quick kiss against Chrissy's temple. "See? I told you they'd be a great match."

And, before Steve or Eddie could say anything, Chrissy picked up her camera and captured their disbelieving faces. They would keep the picture forever - Steve's mouth hanging comically open, Eddie just staring blankly into the camera, and El happily chewing on the last bite of her waffle.

[smoshyourheadin]

Was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about how Steve has a picture of his girl in his wallet or a modern au where it’s his lockscreen <3

my everything

pairing: steve harrington x f! reader

a/n: this is SO cute i love it!!!

the summer sun was setting over hawkins, casting long shadows across the familiar streets. you and steve had just finished a much-needed ice cream date at scoops ahoy, now free from its previous russian spy drama, and were walking hand in hand through the park. the evening was warm and the air filled with the sounds of kids playing and birds chirping. it was a rare moment of peace in the chaos that seemed to have enveloped your lives lately.

as you both settled on a bench by the lake, steve reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. "i almost forgot," he said, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "i promised robin I'd pay her back for covering my shift last week."

you watched as he fumbled through the various receipts and bills, the leather of his wallet worn and familiar. a small photograph slipped out, fluttering to the ground at your feet. you bent down to pick it up, curiosity piqued. when you turned it over, your breath caught in your throat.

it was a picture of you. taken at the snowball dance when you and steve were chaperoning, your smile bright and eyes shining. you remembered that night vividly - how you’d both mothered all the kids, and how steve had held you close, the world around you fading into a blur as you danced together.

"you keep a picture of me in your wallet?" you asked softly, looking up at him with a mix of surprise and tenderness.

steve glanced down, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. he ran a hand through his hair nervously. "uh, yeah," he admitted, his voice a bit shy. "i guess i never told you."

your heart swelled with affection. "why didn’t you?"

steve shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "i don't know. it just felt... i don't know, kinda cheesy? but i wanted to have a piece of you with me, all the time. reminds me of what's important, especially when things get crazy."

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sweetness of his gesture. "steve, that's... that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me."

he looked at you, eyes filled with warmth and love. "well, you mean everything to me," he said simply. "i just wanted to make sure i never forgot that, even for a second."

you reached out, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs gently tracing his cheekbones. "i love you so much stevie," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. the kiss was tender, a promise of all the love and commitment you shared.

when you pulled back, you slipped the photo back into his wallet, right where it belonged. "thank you for always thinking of me," you said, your voice filled with emotion.

steve smiled, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "always," he replied. "you're my girl."

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in a soft, golden glow, you rested your head on steve's shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around you. the worries of the world seemed distant in that moment, and all that mattered was the love you shared.

[chaethewriter]

You're dead to me [7]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3,3k

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You babbled to yourself as you ran through the park, well, if you could call it a park. What should be green and full of life looked so dead and sad. But that didn't stop you from visiting with your daddy. You loved the park. You had enough space to run all about and you played on the little amount of grass it still had. With luck, you could find a flower or any other interesting things you could take home with you. You loved exploring, you were a curious kid. Jake wheeled after you with your bag resting in his lap. You were fast, insanely fast and he had a hard time keeping up, "princess, wait for daddy." You turned around at the sound of his voice as you babbled his name, "daddy! Daddy fast." Your babbling made him laugh. It was something you developed as a kid, whenever you were excited about something or concentrating, you babbled. You ran towards him and stood behind the wheelchair, trying your best to push him forward with all your might. The gesture made him chuckle, "baby this won't do, go up ahead, but stay close to me. Got it?" You ran up in front of him as he put his hand on your head, patting your head before leaning in and giving you a small kiss on your lips. You giggled at his peck and nodded your head in agreement, "yes daddy!" And off you went. He wheeled after you as he enjoyed the sight of you. So carefree, so happy. It was a reminder of how he didn't deserve you. You crouched down as you dug your finger into the mossy grass.

"Baby, what are you up to?" This was the time he could catch up with you, now that you weren't moving so fast. When he finally stopped next to you, he removed his hands from the wheels to move one to your head, rubbing your head as you still crouched down, "what's wrong baby?" You removed your fingers from the mossy grass before he saw that you were holding something in your fingertips. "I have this?" You kept it up for him to see. It was a leaf, a dead one that is. It was slowly withering away with each touch, but that didn't matter to you. You liked it. A chuckle leaves Jake's lips as he opened your cute little bag on his lap, digging his hands into it as he took your purple-decorated map out. It was covered in purple stickers and your messy handwriting, with a picture of you and Jake on the cover. The map was filled with transparent file folders, some filled with interesting things you found in the outside world while others were empty, waiting to be filled. He opened it and flipped to an empty page. You gave him the leaf to him at its stim and he carefully slit it inside an empty folder. You watched in excitement as he did so, getting on your tiny feet as you held onto his leg. Once the leaf was secured into your map, he turned it around for you to see and you jumped in the air, clapping in your hands.

"wan find another one! Is us!" You babbled and immediately ran off to find another treasure to add to your collection. He chuckled in amusement as you just compared the two of you to a pair of dead leaves. He put the map back into your bag as he took something else out, your favorite drink. He took the straw off the side as he pushed the sharp end into the foil-covered circle on top. He quickly once took a sip of your drink before he again wheeled after you, "baby come here. You have to drink something." But you were yet again in your own world, crouched down as your hands were in the grass. He came up to you and stroked your cheek with his index finger, "baby?" You flinched at the touch, but leaned in once you felt the familiar warmth, "mhh?" You hummed as you tried to take something out of the grass. "Come drink something, I also brought you a snack." He tapped on his lap, indicating that you should rest up right on his lap. "Daddy help take flower safe if I rest?" You pointed at the small flower tangled in the grass. He nodded his head, "yes I will get that for you, alright baby?" He hung your bag on his armchair and took you in his arms to put you down on his lap. He passed you your favorite drink, which you took in your grabby hands with a satisfied grin. You took a few sips as you watched your dad going through your bag, "ah there it is." He pulled out a small bag of fruit cookies for you to eat. Your eyes sparkled as he opened the plastic for you and held it in his hands. You positioned yourself, sitting sideways now as your legs were dangling onto his right thigh. "Thank you, daddy," and you dug in: with one hand popping your fruit cookies in your mouth while the other was holding onto your drink. With his free hand, Jake repositioned the wheelchair, now sitting next to the place you were digging in. He put his hands around you to secure you while still making it easy for you to grab your snacks, as he leaned to his side.

His claw dug into the mossy ground as he touched and searched for the flower you were talking about. He relied on his touch as he couldn't see what he was touching, because of his current position. It all felt the same, mossy rough grass until his fingertip brushed against a texture he didn't feel before. Gentle, soft. He carefully wiggled it around and once it came to loose, Jake sat back up straight and held the tiny flower into his palm, showing it off to you, "is this what you meant?" You nodded in excitement, "thank you papa love you!!" He chuckled and pressed his nose into your hair, taking in your scent before pressing a kiss against your ear, "I love you too princess." Your findings of the day were ironic in his eyes. A dead leaf and a pretty flower. He thought back about your words.

This us daddy.

He smiled at the accuracy.

It was them, the dead leaf that found his flower.

Your mind felt foggy as you tried to wake up from your slumber. The last thing you remembered before dozing off was munching on the fruits Kiri gifted you. You must have eaten a lot, considering you needed to take your mask off every time you wanted to pop a piece in your mouth. Did you pass out because of the lack of oxygen? You didn't know. A groan left your lips as you slowly opened your eyes. A bright light shone into your eyes, making you squint your eyes to block as much light as possible. For living in a cave, it sure was bright. Is this what a healthy planet was like? You didn't complain. "Babygirl? Are you awake?" You felt one of your hands getting caressed. It actually felt nice, warm, and comforting even. You decided to bathe in the warmth against your skin until it dawned on you. That familiar voice, that familiar touch. Your eyes shot open in surprise as you looked to your right. Much to your dismay, you met the gaze of Jake Sully who was staring deep into your soul as he held your hand into both of his, his lips pressed against your skin. You hissed at him, like you learned during your classes, as you harshly pulled your hand away from his, earning a sad expression in return, "that is very inappropriate to do to your acquaintances, Jake Sully." You spoke through gritted teeth, venom laced in your tone. You wanted to get up and walk out, but you couldn't get up against the height and size of Toruk Makto, since he was most definitely stopping you from exiting the tent and he definitely wasn't planning to let you go anytime soon. You were responding calmer than usual, probably because you already cried, screamed and punched your feelings out to him, now barely anything left to show him. What he saw in front of you wasn't his daughter crying because he left, but a warrior trained to fight. Your gaze was hardened and almost expressionless. He didn't like this, not one bit. He wanted to get punch, insulted, anything, but this hurt so much more. His lips are pursed before he spoke up, "I know I wasn't a great father, but I promise you, I will show you that I cared, and still care, about you." A low chuckle left your lips, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Sully." The sentence had so much more meaning, to both you and him. You believed his promises as a child, the promise that he would stay with you forever. Now that you're older you knew promises were just empty sayings. The guilt resurfaced in his body once again as he thought of the many promises he broke. "I'll show you, no, I'm determined to show you that I always cared for my little girl." He held your hand again. You tried to pull away, now getting more aggressive because of the touch. He squeezed your hand one more time before he finally let go of your warmth, heading towards the exit of the tent. The loss of warmth made you as you looked after him, now back in your laying position, "You were always good enough of a father to me, if you thought you weren't." His back was turned to you as his eyes widened at the confession. He looked back at you as you spoke the words of reassurance he always needed. When he looked back, he didn't meet your gaze. Instead, you laid there as you watched the ceiling, not paying a mind to Jake Sully at all.

He wanted to speak up again, but then someone entered the room. "Sissy, good morning." He chirped, but when his gaze locked with his father his happy expression soon faltered into a neutral one. The two of them stared at each other, one with a sad expression. Jake wondered, how did he know you? "Good morning, baby bro." You immediately sat up with a bright smile at the sight of Neteyam, who was carrying a lot of stuff in his arms. From food, to fresh clothes and a hair brush. He beamed at you as he put the stuff down next to you. "Lo'ak went to visit the lab once it got light outside and brought you a fresh set of your outfit." He said as sat down to take his hunter's knife out, taking a fruit and cutting the skin off. "Thank you so much Teyam, you shouldn't have." You scratch behind his ears like you would do to a cat, earning a purr from him. You chuckled as he embarrassingly pushed your arm away from him. Jake watched the entire scene unfold in front of him, a hint of jealousy in his body. He felt so jealous of his son, for having a great relationship with you in such a short amount of time. "You can leave now, you know. She's taken care of," Neteyam spoke up as his gaze was focused on the fruits in front of him. He looked right at you, you already staring at him before you turned your focus to Neteyam. Defeated, he left the tent, knowing that him being there won't make anything better.

But he won't give up.

"Ma yawne, what do I do?" Jake was pacing around the pod as Neytiri was folding some laundry, just their different pieces of loincloths. "It's something you should figure out on your own, ma Jake." Neytiri spoke as a matter of fact, her gaze never leaving the task in front of her. "She doesn't want to acknowledge me anymore, do I just give up?" Give up? "Since when does the great Toruk Makto give up?" That nickname made him wince in embarrassment. "You tamed the mighty Toruk, and brought our clan to victory, but you tend to give up because of this?" That was the harsh reality. He was thinking about giving up once again when he thought about his daughter. Now finally having you in his reach again, he can't just sit back and do nothing. He thought about Loak's words. Actions. He had to show you. But how? You weren't his little girl anymore. You probably didn't like adventurous walks anymore. He didn't know you, so how could he possibly do something? "Spend time with her, be around her. You have a great chance for that today. We are getting to work out our plans against the sky demons. Use this chance." and he knew that she was right.

"Are you okay?" Even without eyebrows, you could see the frown on his face as he focused on your fruits. He cut the piece in a size for you to pop in your mouth. "Yes, I guess? Thank you." You ate the piece he put on your palms as you zoned out, "what do you think I should do, Teyam?" You wanted your happily ever after with your father, his wife and your siblings. But was it fair to you? "Are you going to forgive him?" He continued wondering as he asked you these questions, cutting up the last piece of fruit and putting it in a wooden bowl for you to eat. He cleaned his knife with a cloth and put it back against his hip. "I mean, I am sure I will do it eventually. But for now I want him to work for my trust rather than me believing him right away. All he can do is talk, you know how he is." You chuckled softly and threw your arm around your younger brother. You saw how his tail swung from left to right. Was it because he felt happy? He buried his forehead in the crook of your neck as his ears twitched, "yeah.. I know exactly what you mean." His ears drooped to his head as he spoke and you raised your eyebrows. "Do you need to talk about something? Teyam what's wrong?" You wiped your fingers clean to your pants as you brought it to his head, rubbing his braids. His ears twitched again.

"Dad expects the best of me, as I am the mighty warrior and future clan head. He wants me to train from day til night, but at the same time he expects me to take care of my three siblings. And on top of that they will choose my mate, the future Tsahik, but what if I want to find happiness? I never complained about anything before, but I just can't take it anymore. He keeps talking and talking about my future, but I just want to be a kid..." Neteyam spilled his heart out to you, his ear twitching against your cheek as he did so. Your expression turned into a sad one, disappointed in the way your father treats his own kid. "Please stay sissy. I'm never this selfish, but please stay. I need you." Your lips pursed. Founding your family right here on Pandora, you wanted to stay here forever so badly. But what about everyone else back at home? Your lieutenant was probably waiting for your return, as well as other people from the resistance. Seb and Raja will eventually return as well, but what about you? Lost in thought as you rubbed Neteyam's head you realized something. Was this the struggle dad was in as well as he chose between Pandora and earth?

When Neteyam left to prepare himself for the meeting, you did the same. You changed into the fresh clothes Lo'ak brought you. You were so thankful he did, now you felt fresh and ready for the hunt. Eventually Mo'at also returned to her tent, as you were staying there the entire night. You greeted her respectfully, as she did the same to you in return. "How are you feeling, child? Did Jake Sully speak to you?" She always was straight to the point, just like her daughter. You could appreciate that. "Yes, he did. I'm in conflict with myself. As I realized I was upset at him to leave me, yet I am in the same position right now." You explained everything to her in detail: from the moment you woke up to holding your dad's hand to the conversation with Neteyam and the dilemma you were in. "So now I feel guilty, but I have a right to feel what I feel right?" Tsahik knew best after all. She walked up towards you and grabbed your hand, holding it with both of hers. "You absolutely have the right for that, 'eveng. But try to give him a chance once you notice how much energy he puts into this and how much he loves you. You can only feel his love through here" she put your hand on your chest, right where your heart is, "listen to your gut, don't let your brain work against your feelings, my child. Don't let the revenge overcome your mind."

Neteyam and Lo'ak picked you up from the tent as it was time for the meeting. You readjusted your katana on your hip as they lead you to the entrance of high camp, right where the speeches and strategies happened. "Soooo, did you talk to grandmother?" Lo'ak started out of curiosity, earning a smack on the back of the head from his brother, "Don't be so oblivious, you skxwang!" You chuckled at the brothers, shaking your head. "Don't worry about it Teyam," you told the Na'vi before you gazed at your other brother, "yeah I talked to the Tsahik, she told me to not let revenge overcome my mind." Lo'ak gave you a look, telling you to continue, "but I don't mind playing with him a bit. He deserves it after all." He smiled brightly at you and ruffled your hair, earning a groan from you, "stop that my hair will go fuzzy!!" Neteyam shook his head at your antics, but a smile couldn't help but slip out. When you got there you heard your name getting called, "(Y/N)!" Seb and Raja ran towards you, bright smiles on their faces. You knew you couldn't hug since this was a professional meeting. Yet you couldn't help but hold their hands with a smile. They looked behind you with curious glances. Behind you stood Neteyam and Lo'ak, awkwardly waiting for you to introduce them. "Seb, Raja these are my baby brothers. Neteyam and Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. Brothers, these are my friends. Seb and Raja." You pointed your fingers as you introduced them to one another. Seb and Raja brought their hand to their forehead, "Oel Ngati Kameie." Neteyam and Lo'ak smiled at their respectful introduction, before doing the same.

"Everyone, welcome. Gather please." A voice rang through the cave. It was one of your colonels. The rest was honestly all a blur for you. You only knew that this was about raiding some transport from the RDA. Meetings like these were so boring to you, you couldn't take it. You dug into the ground with the tip of your shoe and drew a few circles with your heels. "Sully! We need you on the front, right at the direct attack. I expect you to follow the Olo'eyktan's direct orders from there?" Jake almost wanted to answer upon the call of his last name, just like he used to do in the military. But then his daughter answered and the realization hit him.

You're on his team.

This was his chance.

Thank, Eywa.

This was a good thing after all,

right?

A/N: ty for reading! Lmk what you thought. Thank you for all the support. <3

Taglist in the comments!! (Might have forgotten you cause there is a lot of people.)

[randomshyperson]

I'll Crawl Home To Her - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: A rewrite of the fight scene in WandaVision, with a less aggressive but equally painful discussion. 

Warnings: canon-typical Westview angst, talking about magical submission and free will, established relationship, some grief mentions, rough kissing just because I can, love confessions/reaffirmations | Words: 1.644k

A/N-> I'm just rewriting loose scenes from WandaVison, none of which are really going to end up in anything bigger. But I hope it's a decent read. 

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

“It’s not often that you get a dog and bury them the same day.”

To your line, Wanda could have chosen to mumble in agreement. She could have said she was sorry, or she could have chosen to remain silent.

Instead, she chooses sarcasm, as if she had a good idea of how ridiculous everything was starting to get around that town.

“Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.”

You end up sighing, able to feel the anger slowly building up in you. Wanda continues to put toys away, and you decide to wipe your hands on the nearest dishcloth before turning to your wife.

"I spoke to Norm this morning." You start with a serious look on your face, and Wanda, oh your beautiful, stubborn wife, makes a mocking expression. You don't understand why she's acting this way. "He told me things that really frightened me, Wanda."

It was her turn to take a deep breath, the confidence in her expression wavering for a second. There was only one balcony between the two of you, but somehow the emotional distance was immeasurably greater.

Wanda looks you in the eye. "What's that supposed to mean, darling?"

“You tell me.”  You hit back without hesitation. But what you get from Wanda is a tired sigh, falsely innocent.

"I didn't know it was charades night again." She continues to mock. 

You can't remember if Wanda was ever cruel, but it's a fact that you can't remember anything that happened before Westview.

"I got scared because he was scared, Wanda!" You insist, approaching the counter to lean on one hand, while the other gestures your despair. "It was like a different person, a real, suppressed personality crying out to be released. It was accidental, of course, to discover this. But I'm not an idiot, Wanda. I can see what you're doing. The things that are changing around us every time something gets out of your control. And I don't understand why, and you won't talk to me, and I'm so scared!"

The tears in your eyes match hers. "Stop." She pleads earnestly, but you shake your head.

"You don't want this." You say.

Despite the emotion in her eyes, and the thick tears, Wanda gives a short, ironic laugh, her head tilting slightly. "Don't I?"

"If you did, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't be able to see, to question.” You sigh.”You’ve always been so... extraordinary." Her expression suddenly flinches at the compliment. "Your abilities, your power, I can't tell what happened before this place, but I know about now. There's not a trace of doubt in my mind about you, about how magnificently powerful I've always perceived you to be. Not even about how much I love and trust you." Wanda swallows dryly at your words, but you give a sad sigh. "Then I don't understand why you keep letting me see the flaws. If you're going to lie to me, leave me in the dark. Because I think I'm losing my mind little by little. I can't ignore the suffering of those people, and I can't ignore the uncertainty that grows in my chest every second. I can't remember anything, Wanda. I see those pictures on our walls, those fabricated memories, and nothing reaches me. I can't even recall if I had any kind of family before this place."

Wanda comes around the counter with a certain desperation, her hands reaching for your face. "You have a family. Me and the boys, why can't that be enough?"

Your hands reach for hers. "It's not that, sweetheart. Our family is perfect. This life is the closest to heaven I could get. But I can't be at peace with it at the cost of other people's suffering. I can't ignore their pain."

"I'll help you think of something else." She responds with a nod, pulling your face in to kiss you firmly.

Kissing Wanda has always been intoxicating, a sensation that's easy to get lost in. But fresh in your mind is your coworker, terrified and begging you to get away from this place. Get away from your wife.

You pull away, breaking the kiss and ignoring the way your whole body protests. Wanda is equally out of breath, but the gleam in her eyes hides a deep irritation.

"Wanda, I-

"Save it." She interrupts, turning her back on you. You catch a glimpse of a new form of anger and hurt in her eyes at being rejected. You sigh impatiently, following her instantly. 

"You're not going to run away from this conversation, Wanda, I need to know what's going on in this place!" You practically beg, yelling at her back because Wanda just keeps walking towards the stairs. You huff angrily and teleport immediately into her path. She jumps slightly in fright, grimacing with impatience and taking two steps backward, away from the steps as you insist; "Please. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say if you don't believe me when I tell you there's nothing wrong." But you shake your head at the words, one hand pulling your hair back. Wanda chuckles humorlessly.  "See, you already have an opinion on the subject. On me. I'm already the villain in your story, darling, so why don't you keep digging behind my back and end this whole thing?"

She mentions going upstairs again, but you stand in her way, one hand pulling her face towards yours. The kiss is more intense than the one in the kitchen, heated enough for Wanda to gasp into your mouth.

She's ready to reciprocate with the same eagerness when you break it, the hand on her cheek caressing her skin.

"Because I love you, Wanda Maximoff." You whisper against her lips, and it's not just the words, but the devotion in your gaze that makes Wanda's legs wobble. You offer her a small smile, an air of lost battle in your expression. "There is no part of me that would plan and act against you. Even here, with the truth scratching at the walls, where I could if I wanted to access the suffering of these people, I wouldn't turn against you. I can only beg for a little mercy, my love. Take the pain away from me, the doubt. I will be loyal and complicit in any of your desires and decisions."

Wanda sobs, hugging you before you can say anything. You can't remember anything that came before, but she can, as clearly as if she were there. And Wanda loved every trace of your old self as much as she loves this Westview version, willing to do anything she asks. It's not so different from the person she lost, with the most striking exception that makes it clear in that moment, that nothing could ever replace the real you. 

You would have taken Wanda out of that fantasy. For better or worse, even if she hated you afterward, even if she never forgave you, you wouldn't let her cross lines through grief, you wouldn't let her lose herself again. After all, that's what you swore to do after witnessing first-hand all the guilt she carried for Ultron's madness and the accident in Lagos. Your true version would never let her drown in sorrow and hurt people again.

But the Westview version, so sweet and devoted, would stroke her back and say the same thing you always used to say, even if now you can't remember it.

"I'm sorry if I made you cry, princess, I never meant to. Look at me so I can bring your smile back."

Wanda holds on a little tighter, tears staining your blouse. The vast majority of the times she had heard this phrase, it had been at much less dramatic moments. While she had a passion for sitcoms and things that made her laugh, you liked more emotional movies that could make you cry. And every time you had a movie session, you would tell her that, easily achieving your goal of putting a smile on your girlfriend's face. But there were also times when the situations were dramatic - a poorly planned workout where Wanda ended up hurting you and tears of guilt escaped her and you tried to make her feel better by saying that same phrase. Or when you had a fight and it got a bit out of hand, and you started your apologies that way.

Or when Thanos took you from her, and Wanda had to hear it twice because of a time stone.

She doesn't want to hear it for a third occasion. 

You're ready to say something, maybe apologize, when Wanda breaks the hug. But she holds your cheeks and presses her mouth to yours. Slowly, allowing you to taste even the saltiness of her tears. There's a shaky sigh escaping from between your lips as she breaks away again, but your affected gaze changes to a curious one as red irises stare back at you.

"I'll make it better." She whispers, nodding slightly. You swallow dry, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against hers.

The only thing you whisper is exactly what makes her hesitate. "I trust you, Wanda."

She ignores the internal conflict and lifts one of her hands to stroke the back of your neck. It must be easy, especially within Hex, to change your mind. To make you no longer question.

You repeat that you love her, and Wanda brings trembling fingers to your forehead. 

She suddenly becomes very aware that consciously, she could never do that to you. She would rather you found out everything and hated her than take away your free will. To turn you into another puppet.

She sighs shakily, ready to say she'll put an end to this whole place when the doorbell rings.

Nothing could prepare her for seeing her twin brother again, but that's another story. Besides, not that Wanda has any idea, far away from there, a fallen Avenger is being stitched back together while calling her name in their sleep.

[redvdress]

VALENTINE’S DAY

A/N: blue i’m so sorry this took me so loong but i tried to picture hawks the best i could and i don’t even know how many times i wrote this again and again, so i really hope you’ll like it. soo it’s valentine’s day and the charming hawks, the student everyone craves for, is finally gonna confess to you..well in his own way..

Valentine’s Day had Keigo Takami’s name written all over it.

The halls were packed with excited students exchanging chocolates and confessions, and, as usual, Hawks—UA’s most charming student—was practically drowning in attention.

He leaned back against a pillar near the courtyard, already juggling several boxes of chocolates and gifts. He wore his usual grin, tossing compliments back and forth with the ease of someone who’d been doing this his whole life.

“Ladies, you’re gonna spoil me rotten” he teased as another girl handed him a gift, her face turning pink as she scurried off with her friends.

He might have been UA’s resident heartthrob, but there was only one person on his mind today—and it wasn’t any of the girls who had given him chocolates.

It was you.

Keigo had always been the confident one, the guy who could charm anyone with a smile and a few words.

But when it came to you, things were different.

It wasn’t that he lost his confidence exactly—it was more that he didn’t want to mess it up.

He cared about you in a way he didn’t care about anyone else, and that made things… complicated.

For weeks, he’d been planning this.

Ever since New Year’s, when he’d realized that the feelings he had for you weren’t just a passing crush, but something deeper, something real.

And now, on Valentine’s Day, he was finally going to tell you.

Keigo didn’t get nervous often, but today… well, he was feeling it.

Not that he’d ever show it.

He spotted you walking down the hall with a group of friends, laughing about something one of them had said. The moment he saw you, his grin softened, his usual playful demeanor dimming slightly as he watched you. You always had that effect on him—making him feel like the world slowed down just for a second whenever you were around.

Taking a deep breath, Keigo pushed off the wall and made his way over to you. He kept his pace casual, relaxed, as if this wasn’t a big deal, but inside, his heart was pounding a little harder than usual. He was good at hiding it, though. By the time he reached you, his usual confident smirk was back in place.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, sidling up beside you and flashing that signature ‘Hawks grin’. “You got a minute?”

Your friends immediately took the hint and scattered, leaving the two of you standing alone in the hallway. You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the way he’d just charmed your friends into leaving without even trying.

“Let me guess, you’re tired of all the attention?” you asked.

“Me? Tired of attention? Nah,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Then his expression softened, the usual cocky edge slipping away as he leaned in just a bit.

“You know me, I can handle it.” He gestured to the pile of gifts he’d left by the window.

“But, uh… I haven’t gotten the one I’ve really been waiting for.”

Your smile faltered for a second, and Keigo could see the surprise flicker across your face.

You hadn’t expected that.

Before you could ask for more details about the secret person he was talking about, he took a step back and raised an eyebrow, his expression turning more mischievous. “You ever get the feeling like… I dunno, someone’s been playing it cool a little too long?” He paused for effect, watching you for a reaction. “Yeah, me neither. But, hey—there’s a first time for everything.”

You blinked, unsure where this was going, but intrigued by the shift in his tone. “What are you talking about, Keigo?”

He laughed, a low sound that was equal parts cocky and amused. “You know me. I’m usually good at dodging all this emotional stuff, but… I’ve kinda hit a wall with you.”

You blinked again, feeling your heart race a little. “Wait, are you saying…?”

Keigo leaned in slightly, his wings giving a light flutter, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “What I’m saying is, I’ve been hanging around, making all these jokes, giving everyone else my attention—but it’s been you I’ve been aiming for this whole time.”

His eyes, which were usually so light and playful, had a deeper intensity now. It wasn’t just a throwaway line. He meant it.

“I figured today was as good a time as any to just… say it,” he continued, his voice casual but carrying more weight than usual.

“And if you’re wondering why now…” Keigo chuckled, ruffling his hair slightly. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment, but, well…” He motioned around him, the chaos of Valentine’s Day in full swing.

“If I waited any longer, I’d probably get buried under chocolates and miss my chance. Can’t have that, right?”.

“Keigo, I—” you started, but he interrupted with a light laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is probably the part where I’m supposed to be all cool and smooth, right?” He gave a half-smile, scratching his cheek. “But if I’m being honest, I’m kinda winging it right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m making you nervous.”

Keigo’s wings fluttered, and for once, he actually looked a little flustered, his cheeks tinting a slight pink. “Don’t get used to it. This is a rare sight.”

Before you could respond, he quickly added, “But hey, since I’ve already embarrassed myself, let’s make this interesting.” He took a playful step back, flicking a feather your way, which gently floated down into your hands. “You keep that as a promise. I’m not just messing around. You and me? We’ve got potential, if you’ll give me a shot.”

The playfulness in his eyes was still there, but now it was backed by something real. He was still Hawks—the guy who could charm anyone with a grin and a joke—but he was laying it all out there for you.

You stared at the feather in your hand, then back at him, your heart racing. “Are you really serious?”

“As serious as I get,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin. “But hey, no pressure. If you need time to think, I’ll wait. I’m patient… sometimes.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I didn’t think you’d ever get shy.”He raised an eyebrow, that familiar cocky smirk returning.

“Shy? Who’s shy? I’m just giving you the grand Hawks experience, feathers and all”

With that, he dramatically spread his wings again, the tips brushing against your shoulder in a way that sent a soft shiver down your spine. “So, what do you say?” He leaned in, voice low and teasing.

“You gonna let me be your Valentine, or do I have to try harder?”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in your chest as you looked at him—his genuine vulnerability, wrapped up in his usual playfulness.

“Alright, alright,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes. “I’ll give you a chance, Keigo.”

Keigo’s grin stretched wide, and you saw that glint of triumph flash in his eyes. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his wings giving an excited flutter. Then, in true Hawks fashion, he immediately switched back to his lighthearted self, stepping closer and dropping his voice low as if to share a secret.

“Anyway, I’m not about to let this turn into some sappy soap opera, so… how about we ditch the chocolates and go grab some real food? I’m starving, and you owe me for making me spill my heart out back there.”

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. “I owe you?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” he grinned, squeezing your hand and pulling you gently toward the exit.

At one point, he stopped abruptly and turned to you, giving you a playful smirk.

“Oh, and just so you know…” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “You’re the only person who’s ever made me nervous. I don’t like admitting that, so don’t go spreading it around, alright?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but there was something heartwarming about his honesty. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Keigo grinned, his wings twitching in excitement behind him. “Good, because I’m not used to this whole ‘being serious’ thing. So, if I get awkward, just pretend I’m still cool, alright?”

As the two of you walked off to get food, Keigo did his best to keep things light and fun, making you laugh with his jokes, teasing you about all the other confessions you must have gotten that day, and even pretending to be jealous. But every now and then, there’d be a quieter moment where he’d just look at you with that signature Hawks smirk, and you could tell he was genuinely happy—maybe even a little bit relieved.

And throughout the rest of the day, he made sure to keep you close, his fingers brushing against yours or his wing casually resting against your shoulder whenever you were standing next to him. He didn’t need to say much after his confession because his actions said it all.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Fuck Or Die

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Since I am a messy, disorganized and irresponsible writer… here is the episode for Kinktober Day 13. The prompt is « Fuck or Die ». I had lots of fun writing it. 🙊 I hope you guys enjoy it just as much 💕

CW : Use of viagra and aphrodisiacs - Mentions of infidelity - Marshall Mathers being kind of an asshole 👀

PSA : fooling with Viagra and aphrodisiacs is a bad idea. Also, I’m not a doctor so… there’s nothing medically accurate here, you know ?

« Yo, have you seen Paul ? » Marshall asked as he entered your office. He seemed in a hurry and, frankly, he didn’t look well. He always arborer an unreadable expression but now, he looked a little bothered, which was quite unusual. « He left about an hour ago » you informed him. As soon as the words left your lips, you could see the panic take over his expression. « What’s wrong ? » you asked with concern. « Nothing » he replied too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

You stared at him and he avoided your gaze. Embarrassment. You raised an eyebrow and decided to give him another opportunity. « What did you do ? » you asked calmly. « Wha- Why do you think I did something ? » he barked. You let out a chuckle and crossed your arms as you leaned back in your chair. « Not only have I been your assistant for the last ten years, I’ve also had the displeasure of being your girlfriend for two of them. Which means I know you too well. » you playfully commented. « Thank God you have someone else to annoy now » he replied curtly. You scoffed and stared at the picture of your fiancé on your phone wallpaper. Thank God, Greg was everything that Marshall wasn’t.

« Seriously, tell me. I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t help you with. » you pressed as you turned back to him. « It’s personal. » he said. « Good thing I’m your personal assistant, then, dumbass » you chuckled. « Now is not the time, Y/N » he warned. « It’s Kayla, isn’t it ? Marshall, I don’t mind. You can tell me about your… whatever she is. » you said as you gestured vaguely. « I need Paul » he insisted as his expression grew more uneasy. You sighed and tried to call his manager but it went straight to voicemail. Not surprising knowing how busy the man always was. You looked at Marshall apologetically. He was visibly frustrated. « Fuck » he muttered. He almost looked in pain, which was concerning. You got up and placed a caring hand on his shoulder. « You don’t look well » you remarked. He seemed to wince at the contact and took a step back. « I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you » you immediately apologized, thinking you’d hurt him. « Do you need a doctor ? » you asked carefully.

He looked at you with a look full of shame and regret. « I hope not » he mumbled. « Marsh, what’s wrong ? » you questioned for what seemed like the thousandth time. « Promise not to laugh ? » he asked. « Of course. You know me. » you said reassuringly. He immediately raised his eyebrow. « Yeah I know you. That’s why I’m asking you to promise » he said sternly. « I promise. Now tell me what you did. » you sighed. « I think I took too much viagra » he almost whispered.

You had just promised not to laugh but you couldn’t help but let out a squeal. There was something special about your boss turned ex looking really stupid and ridiculous. The two of you had ended on amicable terms but the shameful look on his face definitely gave you the revenge you never knew you needed. « Fuck you, Y/N » he groaned and you immediately apologized. « I’m sorry, I’m sorry… it’s just… you took viagra ?! ». He sighed and nodded. Having spent two years with him, you could point out a lot of flaws in this man but lack of libido was not one of them. Well, maybe his latest sidepiece wasn’t up to the challenge. « I had an incident the other day and Kayla… well, she suggested- you know. And, uh, I was supposed to see her tonight but… she bailed and now I can’t get rid of the damn thing » he explained. You hummed empathetically. He seemed annoyed and distressed and, knowing his pride, you knew he wasn’t having a good time confessing all of that to you. « How long has it been ? » you asked. « Three months. Why ? » he asked. « Your blood flow is really going down there, huh ? I meant how long has it been since you… you know. Since you took the pill. » you corrected with an amused look. « Two hours » he sighed. « Is it painful ? » you asked. « It’s… really uncomfortable. I asked the Google and they say I should take a cold shower but I can’t drive home like this » he continued. You let out a chuckle at the mention of « the Google ». If the technophobe boomer you called your boss had actually gone on the internet, you knew he must be really distressed. « Have you tried solving the problem manually ? » you asked carefully. He looked at you with an aggravated look, clearly losing patience. « Of course I’ve tried ! It doesn’t work ! » he snapped. You crossed your arms defensively. You were trying to be nice and you didn’t need him lashing out at you. As soon as he saw the frown on your face, he calmed down a little. « I’m sorry… I just… i don’t know what to do » he mumbled. You nodded with understanding and placed your hand on his arm, trying to be supportive. « Please don’t » he almost whined. « Well I just touched your arm, dude » you said with your eyebrows furrowed. « I know but I also took that other pill. Like it’s made of plants or something and my senses are all heightened and- I swear to God, if you touch me again I’ll bend you over your desk. ». You looked at him with wide eyes, almost shocked by his bluntness. You held out your hand, pointing at your engagement ring. « This ship has sailed, man » you recalled. « Look, maybe we should call a doctor- hey ! My eyes are up there, Marshall ! » you scolded.

He looked, half-apologetic. However, you knew him too well for your liking and you could see the wheels turning. « don’t even think about it » you warned. « Come on, we’re friends, right ? You can help me out » he pleaded. « You’re not seriously asking me to do something about this. Not when we’ve been broken up for three years. » you said in disbelief. « I’m engaged, Marshall ! I’m getting married to another man ! » you reminded him. « You smell so fucking good. And oh god, you look stunning » he said breathily. « You’re losing your mind » you scoffed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and lost his balance for a second. You immediately grabbed his forearm and had him sit on the small sofa in your office. He was sweating bullets and looked hazy. « Fuck, there’s this thing in my chest » he groaned. You placed a hand on his heart. The beating seemed steady. You could see him wince at the proximity and he closed his eyes, inhaling your scent. Before you could pull away, he placed a hand on your hip and brought you closer. « Marshall » you scolded. « Sorry » he whispered - though you didn’t believe for a second that he was sorry. « Can I do something ? I mean, anything that doesn’t involve cheating ? » you asked. He looked at you and stayed silent for a second. « Do you think you could stay here while I…? » he asked. You stared at him, flabbergasted, unable to say anything. He couldn’t be serious. « I just need you near. I won’t touch you. » he promised. « I just can’t stand it. It’s hell. » he pleaded. Maybe it was the proximity and the fact that you still shared chemistry. Maybe it was the ovulation. Maybe you were just stupid for thinking you could actually help him in a friendly way. But you found yourself nodding. « No touching » you repeated. He nodded and undid his jeans. It wasn’t visible before, but now that his cock was springing free, you understood what was so uncomfortable. That thing was massive. Of course, you knew his size. But it was something else. It seemed girthier, more veiny. « Oh good God » you whispered. He started stroking his length, letting out a groan. « Come closer » he instructed. You inched a little closer to him and he inhaled your scent. He kept on pumping himself, staring at your cleavage. You could see the relief in his expression. « Are you ok ? » you asked awkwardly. « I’m- getting there. » he nodded. « Could you open your blouse a little ? ».

You stared at him, scolding him with your eyes. This man was going to be the death of you. But at the same time, you didn’t really say no. You undid a few buttons of your blouse, enough to let your lacy bustier peak through. « Like this ? » you asked. « A little more ? » he suggested innocently. He knew he was pushing his luck. And you knew that he knew. Still, you did. Maybe it would be over sooner. He took a good look at your boobs and bit his lip. « You’re hot. Do you know that ? » he asked. « As a matter of fact, I do » you said with a chuckle. « Now get to it. We don’t have all night. » you instructed. He kept on stroking himself, still staring at your breasts. He had always had a thing for tits and beautiful lingerie so you didn’t doubt that he was enjoying it at least a little, no matter how uncomfortable he must be. You tried to look elsewhere and think about something else, to distract yourself from the fact that your ex was literally touching himself to you. He kept at it for a little while and let out a grunt. You open your eyes, thinking he had gotten it over with but you could see the frustration on his face. « They’re gonna have to cut it off » he complained. « I’m so close but- » he whined. « You can do it » you said reassuringly. And before you could even fully comprehend the consequences of what you were doing, you were freeing one of your boobs, revealing a pierced nipple. « Does that help ? » you asked innocently. He stared at you, almost shocked. « Holy fuck. Is that new ? » he asked as he referred to the piercing. You nodded, forgetting that you had it done a while after breaking up with him. « That’s… fucking hot. » he commented. « Yeah ? You like it ? » you asked teasingly. He nodded, not taking his eyes away from the small piece of metal as he pumped himself a little more energetically. By the looks of it, it was sort of working for him. You were staring at him innocently, though you were beginning to find the whole thing oddly titillating. You liked seeing the desire in his eyes. it didn’t help that you’d been feeling a little neglected by your fiancé, lately. And even if you knew Marshall’s desire was merely the consequence of chemicals, it still felt satisfying. The lust in his eyes was giving you the attention you’d been craving for a few weeks now. Enough for your inner demon to get all horny. You stared at him, biting your lip and gently pinched your nipple, playing with the piercing. « Fuck » he whispered. « Better ? » you asked breathily as he nodded. « Now, do you think you could come ? » you continued teasingly. He swallowed dryly and nodded. « How about you tell me what you want ? » you suggested. « Huh ? » he whimpered. « Talk to me. No touching. Just talking. » you encouraged him. He stared at you, a mixture of shock and amazement in his gaze. « That’s what friends do, right ? » you whispered. « Yeah » he replied breathily. « I-I could use your hands. » he said hesitatingly. « Oh yeah ? You’d like me to give you a hand ? » you teased as he nodded. « Or you could get on your knees » he hummed as he kept going. « You always loved me on my knees, didn’t you ? » you asked playfully. « Fuck yeah » he moaned. You hummed appreciatively and got up. He looked at you in confusion but before he could say anything, you were kneeling between his legs, sensually staring at him. « like that ? » you asked as he nodded frantically. You could feel that he was on the edge. You freed your other boob from the cup of your bustier and gently pinched your nipple. « Oh shit » he moaned. You nodded in encouragement. « You know… I still remember your taste. » you said innocently. His eyes met yours as you playfully licked your lips. You could see his pupils dilating, his lips parting, before he let out a throaty moan as he came, lifting his tee-shirt just in time.

He didn’t move for about a minute after that, panting and catching his breath. His face was relaxed, though. You silently got up and adjusted your clothes, as if nothing had just happened. You turned your back to him, closing your eyes as you tried to convince yourself that everything was ok, and that it wasn’t actually cheating. After all, he hadn’t touched you, right ? Right ? You were taken out of your zone by Marshall’s voice. « Do you, uh, have a tissue ? » he asked. You mumbled something and tossed a box of tissues at him so that he’d clean himself. After he was done, he adjusted himself and placed a hand on your shoulder. « I… thanks. » he said awkwardly. You nodded, still refusing to look at him. « That stays between us, right ? » you asked nervously. « Of course » he hummed. You nodded and stared at him as you but your lower lip. The usual stoic demeanor was back. As if nothing gad happened. Or maybe he wasn’t that phased by it. Maybe he had no qualms about touching himself to his ex. After all, he wasn’t especially known for his scruples. Before none of you could utter any more words, you heard a knock and the door opened. Greg. « what are you doing here ? » you asked as your eyes opened wide. « I finished earlier so I thought I’d pick you up » he said with a warm smile. « Is it a bad time ? Are you guys busy ? » he asked as he stared at Marshall. « No ! I was just telling Y/N what a good job she’s done. » he said calmly. « She’s the best, right ? » Greg beamed. « She really is », your ex replied with a shit-eating grin that made you want to kill him. « By the way, man, we got your RSVP but you didn’t specify if you were bringing a date », your fiancé said. « Oh. My bad. Yeah, I’ll be coming on my own. », Marshall hummed. « Oh that’s too bad. I thought Y/N mentioned you were dating ».

You felt as if you were about to faint. Greg was obviously clueless, just trying his best to be friendly, while Marshall was staring at him with an all-knowing smile. « Not anymore, I’m afraid. » he simply replied. « That’s too bad. Hey, maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding. I’ll make sure you’re seated by some attractive single » Greg offered. Your ex gave him a grin and shook his hand. « Thanks, man. You know, I’m really looking forward to it. I look at you guys and I tell myself… I really want what you have » he hummed before giving you his signature asshole smirk.

[virtualvault]

Full Body Workout

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: You challenge Miguel to a sparring match.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, teasing, begging, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected p in v, wrestling/ grappling for control, too many positions to list lol, mirror sex, dirty talk, creampie

WC: 3.4k

A/N: This prompt won the poll that I put out AGES ago. Sorry it took so long, personal life and work life have been getting in the way and my mental health tanked so I didn’t have it in me to write anything. But, I’m back and feeling inspired again so I was able to finish this. Also, let me know your honest opinion on the positions I wrote reader and Miguel in because holy shit that was harder than I thought it was going to be. I wanted to really capture the feeling that they were wrestling around on the floor, but didn't want to make it too confusing. Please let me know if it made any sense lol. It was a challenge, but fun to write so I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!!

Miguel is excited that you agreed to join him for his mid-morning workout. But excitement quickly turns to regret as you begin stretching on the mat in front of him. “This was a mistake," he mutters, and you look back and give him a questioning look.

 “How am I supposed to focus when you’re doing that?” He gestures to your ass on full display, sticking straight up in the air.

 You smile cheekily. "Well, if you don't want to watch me stretch, why don't you help me instead?" You teasingly wiggle your hips to entice him. It works, and he comes over to kneel on the floor behind you. Little do you know, he's planning to do a little teasing of his own as payback for distracting him. 

 He runs his hands up the backs of your thighs and gives your ass a light squeeze before maneuvering you onto your back. He raises one of your legs up and throws it over his shoulder, then leans over you. The tension in your hamstring causes a familiar burn and a thrill runs through you. When he switches legs, you feel his hardening bulge rub up against you and a soft moan slips from your lips. You try to move your hips against him, but before you can he places a quick kiss to your forehead and sits upright.

 "Alright, I think you've been thoroughly stretched out, now let's get to it." He shoots you a wink as he stands. You had been hoping he'd let his dick do all the thinking and forfeit his original plans for an entirely different, and way more desirable, form of workout. But he seems determined to stick to his normal routine, much to your disappointment.

 You get up, begrudgingly, to begin your own workout. It's leg day and you decide to start with some lunges. You intentionally face him, not wanting to miss the show. You love watching him workout. His sheer strength never fails to amaze you. Not only that, but he always does everything with such finesse and ease,, and you usually end up just bailing on your workout to watch him, your mouth watering and eyes glued to his body.

 It's not only his movements that are entrancing, but the sounds. My god, the sounds he makes. All the heavy breathing and grunting causes a wet heat to flare between your legs. If you close your eyes, you can picture him above you, fucking you with the same power and agility he's showcasing right now.

 He's in a pushup position, doing reps with a weight bigger than your head. Every time he pulls it up to his chest, he lets out a jagged exhale through his nose and you wish desperately you were feeling it on your neck while he pounds into you from behind.

 You find yourself completely mesmerized by the sounds he's making, the furrow in his brow, and the sweat glistening on his skin. It's a delicious sight and you realize you've completely stopped moving and are simply standing there, staring at him.

 He takes notice as he moves the weight to the other hand and catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. You quickly look away but judging by the smirk on his face you know he caught you. He's too distracting, so you decide to finish the rest of your workout on the elliptical, just waiting for him to be done and hoping he'll take you back to the apartment and relieve you of the ache he's created between your legs.

 As you set your pace on the machine, you curse yourself for not bringing headphones. You can only just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, but you hear him as he's laid out doing bench presses. The grunting is going straight to your core and you feel a warmth starting to form in your belly. Now alight with burning need, you step off and go to stand in front of him. If he's not willing to postpone his workout to fuck you silly like you want, then you think you've got the perfect compromise.

 You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips. “Let’s spar."

 "What?” he asks, finishing the set and then sitting up.

 "You heard me. I wanna spar. C'mon. Or are you scared I'm going to kick your ass?" You goad, knowing full well he could squash you like a bug if he actually tried.

 He smiles at you, amused by your trash talk, but hesitates. "I don't know if that's such a good idea…" It seems like he wants doesn't want to risk the chance of hurting you, which you both know he wouldn't let happen, but he's really just trying to fight the urge to fuck you. He's been struggling since he saw you saunter out in your tight workout clothes this morning. If you were to spar, he knows being that close to you would make him lose what little control he's clinging to.

 "C’mon, I just want to give it a try. I promise, I'll go easy on you," you joke.

“Okay," he chuckles, "but nothing too crazy. Just some basic grappling stuff." He rises off the bench, and lets his eyes roam your body. He curses himself for it as he feels himself growing hard. His eyes stay glued to your ass as he follows you to the mat in the middle of the room.

 He verbally walks you through a few maneuvers and you pick one to try. He gets into position behind you and holds you up against him, and you're supposed to duck out of his grasp. You attempt the move, and fail, so he pulls you back into him to try it again. You get into position, gripping his arm, and wait for him to give you the go ahead. He leans down to speak softly into your ear. "Good, just like that. Now try it again, but just a little faster."

 His words send a tingle across your skin and your grip on him loosens. With your guard effectively down, he spins you around and sweeps your feet out from under you. You let out a squeak and feel brace yourself, but he grabs you before you hit the mat and lowers you to the ground. You notice he now has you completely trapped under him. He holds your arms to your sides and uses his leg to pin one of your own down. He leaves one leg free, and you plant it on the ground, attempting to push yourself out of his hold, but it's useless. You let out a frustrated sigh.

 "Ready to give up?" he taunts, eyes gleaming with mischief.

 "It's not fair. I'm at a disadvantage," you whine, still attempting to free yourself from his grasp.

 "And why is that?" he questions. There are a million reasons you're at a disadvantage going up against him, but your answer is not one he is expecting.

 "My pants," you state plainly.

 "Your…pants,” he echoes, amused, but waiting for clarification.

 "They’re too restrictive. I don't have full range of motion." You wriggle under him and his eyes fall to your shorts. He admires the way the taught fabric hugs your thighs.

 “Hmm. Well, we wouldn't want this to be an unfair fight, would we?” He leans back and grabs the top of your pants and frees you from their confines. He sits back on his haunches and tosses the clothing side. Then, with as much force as you can muster up, you use your feet to push against his hips, effectively knocking him off balance. He topples over and his back hits the mat with a light thud. He's quite impressed, but before he can sit up and praise you, you crawl over to him and straddle his hips.

 "Nice move," he comments, and looks down to see you resting on his bulge and he can feel the wet heat of your core through his shorts. "Thanks. I learned from the best, " you say with a wink and begin grinding on him, causing the fabric to drag along your folds. You quicken the motion as you feel him twitch beneath you.

 After a few moments, you turn the other way and attempt to rid him of his shorts, giving him a glimpse of your bare ass in the process. The second you finish taking them off, he's pulling you back to hover over his face. You steady yourself and go to scold him for taking back control, but before you can say anything he pulls you down onto his face. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you gasp as he begins exploring you thoroughly with his tongue. You shiver at the warmth of his mouth against you.

 When your eyes finally flutter open, you catch a glimpse of his tip dripping with anticipation, begging to be touched. You lean down, grip his thighs, and begin gliding your tongue over his length. He grunts and you feel the sound reverberate over your clit.

 You want to feel it again, so you take him into your mouth and start sucking his head. He bucks his hips, pushing himself to the back of your throat. He lets out a long groan this time and you pull him in deeper. You gag a little and he grips your thighs tight as your throat constricts around him. You feel his heavy breathing grazing your skin as he laps you up feverishly.

 With your own pleasure building rapidly, you pull your mouth off of him and begin stroking him while letting out a steady stream of moans. You can tell you're getting close. Miguel can too, so he sloppily sucks at your clit, then rolls it gently between his teeth. This proves to be too much for you, and you grip him at the base as your orgasm washes over you. As the pleasure rolls through your body, you clench around nothing and realize how empty you feel without him inside you. He nips at your thighs as you come down and you give him a few sloppy strokes before sitting up, desperate to feel him fill you up.

 You start to crawl down his body, but he quickly pulls you backwards. You land with your back to him, and he secures you in place with his arm across your chest. He spreads your legs, holding them open with his own, and uses his free hand to begin rubbing himself against you.

 "I wanted to ride you," you pout, and angle your hips so that his tip catches on your clit as he slides back and forth against you.

 "By all means, go ahead and try." You attempt to wiggle free but it's futile. "Guess we're doing it my way," He enters you slowly, gliding in with no resistance. You both let out a low moan.

 "You take me so well," he praises. You sigh as he bottoms. He places kisses all up your neck while giving you a few seconds to adjust. His free hand settles on your hip, and you expect him to start thrusting into you, but he surprises you when he flips the both of you over.

 He cages you in against the floor and grinds into you, slowly but deeply. He has you whimpering into the mat, needing him to go faster. But you know he loves to torture you like this, intentionally setting a pace that has you writhing and begging for more, while keeping your climax just out of reach.  You crane your neck to try and get a good look at him, but he has his face buried in your neck. You tug on his hair to get his attention.

 "Let me see you," you whine.  When he lifts his head, he's enthralled by the sight of you, lips bitten and eyes wide. He crashes his mouth into yours and glides his tongue over yours, hungrily, before pulling away and flipping you over. He grabs one wrist in each hand and anchors them to the floor above your head.

 Desire flares in you as his eyes meet yours, staring back at you with such fervent need. He brings his face closer, and your noses brush as he stares deep into your eyes. Then without warning he's back inside you and begins fucking you with much more momentum than before. You wrap your legs around his hips and the new angle has his length reaching so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach.

 "Oh fuck, just like that," you say, breathily. Your ankles dig into his lower back, pulling him even deeper, causing his tip to find the exact spot that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he stretches you. His grip on your wrists loosens and his eyes fall shut as he gets caught up the feeling of your silky walls hugging him. As you contract around him again and again, he drops his head.

 You now have a good view of his exposed neck and can see the sweat glistening on his skin. Your mouth starts to water at the sight, and you place a few sloppy kisses up the slope of his neck before dragging your tongue along the skin to get a taste. You feel his hips falter and he relaxes his grip on you. You take this moment of weakness to muster up as much strength as you can and roll him over until you're straddling him.

 He grunts as his head comes to rest on the floor. He moves his hands to your hips to attempt to regain control, but you grab them and put them above his head, mirroring the position he had you in just moments ago. "Who knew a few kisses to the neck is all it takes to overpower you," you tease. You begin to grind on him nice and slow, your walls dragging along his length. He moans and his lips buck under you.

 "Come on. Please," he implores, voice dripping with want.

 "Lucky for you, it's leg day." You plant your feet on the floor and begin to ride him in earnest, and his breath quickens. As you bounce faster and faster, he squirms underneath you, so much so that his wrists come free from your grasp. You place your hands on his chest to hold him down that way instead.

 Your palms travel the broad expanse of his chest and find it increasingly harder to stay steady as the pressure inside you builds. He senses you're struggling a bit, so he grabs your hips to help guide you up and down on his cock.

 Soon your whole body is thrumming with pleasure and, no longer able to hold yourself up, you collapse on his chest. Not wanting you to lose your momentum, he quickly begins thrusting up into you. He wraps his arms around you to pull you down onto him. Within seconds he has you crying out as you tumble over the edge. You bury your face in his chest and plant light kisses across his soft skin as you ride out your high. He fucks you through it, but you're so wet he eventually slips right out of you.

 You're still buzzing from you last orgasm, but he is desperate to feel your warmth again. He rolls you over into your side, then spots the mirror that panels the wall. He sits up and pulls you into his arms with your back pressed to his chest. He holds you tight to him, arm across your chest like a seat belt and the other across your waist.

 He gets up onto his knees and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. Anticipation pulses through you as his arm momentarily leaves your waist to line himself up with your entrance. Raw with need, he slides in and returns his arm to your waist and begins pulling you down onto him in tandem with his thrusts. If it weren't for his tight grip on you, you would have toppled over.

 Your breathing comes out in short, sharp pants and you look up to see the two of you in the mirror. His body is completely engulfing yours.  Not only are his arms around you, but your thighs are enclosed by his and they're pressing yours together. It makes you feel even tighter and Miguel grunts into your neck, and he can feel himself creeping closer to his own release.

 He lifts his head to kiss up the side of your face, then meets your gaze. It'd be apparent to anyone who could see the two of you like this that he has the upper hand. You can barely move except to angle your hips to take every forceful thrust. But you both know you have just as much control over him and his pleasure as he does you. It's evident in the way he squeezes his eyes shut and his hips stutter every time you walls grip him tight, and the way he has to do everything in his power not to cum as he hears those heavenly noises pouring from your mouth.

 He has to keep himself from cumming, determined to pull one more from you before he finally gives in. Your eyes flutter shut, and you attempt to reach up to run your fingers through his hair, your other hand hanging onto his forearm. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out a soft growl at the delicious burn.

 He dips his head down to nip at your ear. "Touch yourself," he commands, and you go to look at him over your shoulder, but he grabs your chin to angle your face to meet his in the mirror.

 "C'mon. I want you to see how fucking good you look when you touch with yourself.  I know your clit must be throbbing, don't you think it deserves a little attention?" The grovel in his voice and his measured thrusts have your mind a little hazy, so you don't move right away. Before your hand can catch up with your brain, he grabs your wrist and shoves it between your thighs for you. He stills his hips and pulls your legs apart so he can get a good look at your spread folds in the mirror.

 "Mmm. It's so swollen, just begging to be played with. Go on, play with that pretty pussy."  He gently glides your hand over your exposed nub, then pulls away you start moving on your own. "Look at you, getting yourself off while I'm inside you. Dirty little thing.”

 You do your best to nod in response. "You make me feel so full," you moan out as you swipe back and forth over your clit.

 He involuntarily bucks his hips, pushing himself deeper into you. He curses under his breath, and you lay your head back and look up at him. “You gonna fuck me?” You question while simultaneously rolling your hips, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

 “Or am I going to have to finish the job myself?” You feign a pout, and he leans down, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

 Your words spur him on, and he starts moving again. He's giving you slow, hard thrusts and you squeak as each one hits deeper and deeper. He notices your hand speed up and he fucks you faster to match the pace. The feeling of him filling you up, the soft squelch each time he bottoms out and his ragged breathing grazing your skin is all you can focus on, and he sees your wrist go limp. He's quick to replace your hand with his own. His fingers swirl in fast, tight circles around your clit and you let out what sounds like a sob.

 The sensation is too much, and you go rigid in his arms, white hot pleasure shooting across your body. He sees your eyes roll back as you gush around him, and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You don't even register what he's saying and eventually go limp in his arms. He can still feel you fluttering around him, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan and releases inside you.

 He gently sets you down onto the mat and collapses beside you, thoroughly drained. As you're attempting to catch your breath, he pulls you up into his side and you rest your head onto his chest.

 "If I knew working out could be this fun, I'd come with you every day," you jest, although you'd be more than willing to add this to your routine.

 “So, same time tomorrow then?” He asks with a smile.

[austinswife]

INSIDE Y/N BUTLER’S BAG

FROM SERIES — THE BUTLER FAMILY CHRONICLES

SYNOPSIS — You, Y/N Butler, take the audience on a sentimental journey through the special items in your luxury handbag. Each piece tells a story—whether it's the vintage film camera from Austin, the love letters you've exchanged since the beginning of your relationship, or the precious heirlooms that connect you to family. When asked to read aloud one of Austin’s love letters, you share a touching moment, recalling the first time he asked you out.

WARNING(S) — Pure fluff, deep family ties, romantic gestures, wholesome vibes.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

You glance toward the camera, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the team adjusts the lighting. The energy in the room is warm and casual, perfect for what you’re about to share. The set is cozy, filled with soft light and neutral tones, making the space feel intimate.

"Hi!" you say brightly, leaning back into the plush leather chair. "I’m Y/N Butler, and today I am here with VOGUE to do ‘What inside Y/N’s bag.’"

Your smile softens as you say their names, a genuine warmth radiating from you. "Today, I’m going to take you all on a little journey through my bag—a peek into some of the things I carry with me every day. Some of it’s practical, but if I’m honest, most of it is sentimental. I think that’s how I am—I like keeping pieces of the people I love close, even when I’m on the go."

You glance down at the luxurious handbag in your lap, running your hand over its soft leather exterior. "This bag is one of my favorites—it’s been with me for years now. I use it for pretty much everything, especially when I’m traveling. It’s got a lot of personal things in it, so… let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?"

With a playful smile, you unzip the bag and peer inside. The first thing you pull out is a film camera—a vintage, well-loved model. You hold it up for the camera to see, the smile on your face growing as you turn it over in your hands.

"This right here is a gift from Austin," you explain, brushing your thumb over the camera’s edge. "He gave it to me on our second wedding anniversary. I remember him saying he wanted to give me something that could capture the moments that mattered most in a way that felt… timeless. And that’s exactly what this camera does. I love the process of using film—it makes every picture feel like a little treasure."

You laugh softly, remembering the many times you’ve pulled this camera out during family moments. "I take so many pictures of Austin and Wren on this. They’re some of my favorite memories, and there’s something really magical about having them on film rather than just on my phone. It’s almost like you’re holding onto the moment itself."

Setting the camera down gently, you reach back into the bag, your fingers brushing over a small, plush item. With a soft smile, you pull out a tiny bird toy—Wren’s favorite.

"This little bird has been with me on every trip since Wren was old enough to realize I was leaving," you explain, holding the plush toy up to the camera. "She calls it her ‘guardian bird’ and gives it to me whenever I have to leave for a shoot. She’ll say, ‘Mommy, take this with you so you don’t miss me too much.’ And of course, I bring it with me everywhere."

You hold the toy for a moment longer, your smile deepening as you think of your daughter. "It’s funny how something so small can make you feel so connected, even when you’re miles away from home."

The next item you pull from your bag is a tube of lipstick, the deep rose color a familiar favorite. "And then, of course, there’s this," you say with a chuckle. "I’ve got a few shades in here, but this one’s my go-to. Austin always says it’s his favorite, so naturally, I wear it all the time."

You pop the cap off for a quick look at the color before setting it aside. Then, your hand grazes something that immediately makes your heart flutter. You pull out a small stack of love letters, neatly tied together with a worn ribbon.

Your expression softens, and you hold the letters up for the camera. "These… are love letters from Austin. We started writing letters to each other early on in our relationship, and it’s something we’ve kept doing. I love that we’ve kept it going. It’s a beautiful way to remind each other how much we mean to one another, even when we’re not physically together."

You pause for a moment, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting on the top letter. One of the crew members behind the camera asks if you’d be willing to read one aloud, and you glance up with a shy smile.

"Of course," you say softly, carefully untying the ribbon and unfolding the top letter. "This one’s actually the very first letter Austin ever wrote me. It was right before he asked me out on our first date. I still carry it with me all these years later."

Clearing your throat gently, you begin to read.

Austin's Letter:

“Y/N,

I’m not sure how to start this, but I’ve been thinking about you all day—actually, since the moment I met you, if I’m honest. I don’t know if you’ve felt it too, but I can’t shake this feeling, like something shifted in my life the second you walked into it.

I’ve never been great with words, and I hope this doesn’t come off as too much, but I feel like I need to tell you. From the moment we met, you’ve been on my mind. I keep replaying your laugh in my head, the way your eyes light up when you smile. It’s like you’ve left this imprint on me, and I’m not quite sure how to move forward without doing something about it.

So, here goes. I’d love to take you out—on a real date. No pressure, but I can’t help but feel like we’ve got something special. I don’t want to let it slip away without trying to explore it, to see where it leads. You’ve got me, Y/N. I’d love to know if I’ve got you too.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Austin”

As you finish reading, you let out a soft, breathy laugh, your cheeks warm with the memories. "That letter… was the start of everything. I remember reading it and feeling like my heart was about to burst out of my chest."

You glance up at the camera, a warm smile still on your lips. "Austin and I still write letters to each other. It’s something we hold onto, something that keeps the romance alive no matter how busy life gets. I think there’s something really special about putting your feelings down on paper. It makes it feel more permanent, like a snapshot of that moment in time."

Gently, you fold the letter back up and tuck it safely into your bag. "Those letters are some of my most treasured possessions," you admit, your eyes twinkling with affection.

Your hand reaches into the bag once more, and this time, you pull out a delicate ring—a family heirloom that Austin’s grandmother passed down to him. The camera zooms in as you hold it up, the light catching on the simple, yet beautiful design.

"This ring is incredibly meaningful to both Austin and me," you explain. "His grandmother gave it to him when he was younger, and she told him to give it to someone special one day. Now, it’s one of the things I always carry with me. It’s like having a piece of his family with me wherever I go."

The ring feels cool in your hand as you set it down, the memories attached to it making your heart swell. Next, you reach into your bag and pull out a pair of vintage sunglasses—a gift from your mother, and one of the items you cherish most.

"These were my mom’s," you say quietly, holding the sunglasses up for the camera. "She wore these all the time, and now I keep them with me. It’s like having a little piece of her with me."

Your fingers linger on the sunglasses, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of your mother. "She had this incredible sense of style," you add, your voice a little wistful. "Whenever I wear them, I feel like I’m channeling a bit of her."

You pause for a moment, taking in the collection of items in front of you—the letters, the camera, the ring, the toy, the lipstick, the sunglasses. Each piece holds so much more than its physical presence; they are pieces of your heart, your life, your family.

"I guess, in a way, I don’t just carry practical things in my bag," you say with a soft laugh. "It’s more like I’m carrying memories and pieces of the people I love most. That way, no matter where I go, they’re always with me."

With a warm, heartfelt smile, you zip the bag back up, gently patting it as you close the segment. "Thank you for letting me share these little treasures with you. It’s been fun to take a trip down memory lane."

And with that, the camera fades to black, leaving behind the lingering warmth of love, family, and cherished moments.

[kenzlie]

‘ ALL MINE ’

‘ you’ll always come back.. ’

content warnings: smut, p n v, cursing, cheating (stay loyal) & pet names (baby & doll)

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you’re head was pounding as you’re boyfriend josh was shouting at you “with your ex? are you fucking kidding me?!” he shouted loudly he had found the photos, the sex tapes, he found it all, and he was pissed, he pushed you back a little and you suddenly regain yourself

“i dont know what the fuck your talking about josh!” you blurted “dont act dumb baby! how many times do i have to show you the videos, the messages, the pictures and dont get me started with the godamn ‘my eyes only’ pictures!” he argued as he pointed to the dates on all the evidence “okay, but where were you those same fucking nights? out with mya?” “w-what?” he choked almost “im not stupid! i can always smell her perfume on you or just the smell of fucking sex!”

you storm out the door angrily, your little heels clicking on the cement as you walk to your car, this all started because josh texted you to come over for date night, you had gotten all dressed up and fancied but now your mascara was smudged and your eyes were all puffy

you’re making your way back home, your phone in the cup holder starts ringing, you ignored the first call thinking it was josh, but when the second ring came and the bold words on your phone saying “matt STURNIOLO 💜” «please get that reference..» your eyes lit up “hello?” you say sniffling a bit as you pull over “hey doll, you sound sad, everything alright?” he said in a concerned voice “yea, just josh being a complete dick again” “seriously?? come over, ill get your mind off of it” he suggested, you could feel his smirk through the phone “yea yea im on my way” “see ya soon doll” he said before hanging up

you arrived at his house, he was sitting on the porch step waiting for you waving with a smile, you pulled into the driveway and turned the car off as he runs up to the driver’s door “hey doll” he says with a gesturing smile, you step out and he immediately goes to hold your face “why is your makeup all messy and why are your eyes- oh, cmon lets get your mind off him” matt says as he holds your waist leading you too the front door

when you two made it to his bedroom he immediately shut the door and locked it before pressing you up against it “matt..” you whisper “shh shh gonna make you feel real good doll..” he murmurs before kissing on your neck, your hands insanely tangling up in his brunette hair “please..” you beg as you threw your head back

he picked you up and tossed you on the bed gently before climbing in above you “gonna fuck you better than he ever did, yeah?” he said with a smirk, you nod as his cold hands remove your clothing “look at how pretty..” he whispered as he gropes your boob “matt cmonnn” “fine fine..” he jokingly grunts as he pulls his plaid pants down along with his tommy boxers, revealing his erection

he rubs his tip against you’re heat making you whine, he pushes into you without warning “oh shit..” he groans as he grips your waist “fuck matt!” “taking me so f’ good, doll..” matts grip on your waist tightens as he speeds up “fuck fuck fuck..” you whimper “gonna cum soon..you still on the pill?” you nod as you squeeze around him

he throws his head back as he thrusts a couple more times before finishing inside you “f’ matt..” you mumbled as you finish with him “took me so well, doll” he says before leaning down to kiss you gently “so..what are you gonna tell josh..?” he laughs

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