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ipushhimback · 4 months ago

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we were drunk, it happens part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: none? words: 2.2k

summary: lando and Y/N meet at a dinner with other drivers. they were drunk and landed in bed but what happens when her brother max finds out

there will probably be a part 2 bc i have many ideas!

this is my first f1 x reader fanfic i have ever written so please be kind

Y/N has never really liked Formula 1 which surprised everyone she told that as she was no one other than Max Verstappen’s little sister. She of course knew the basics and has watched some of the Grands Prix, but she has never enjoyed being there.

But one Friday evening that changed. Her brother had told her that he had been invited to a dinner with some other drivers, and they were allowed to bring a +1 and because Kelly wasn’t in Monaco that week, he asked Y/N to come with him.

At first, she was reluctant but eventually she agreed. But now she was standing in front of her mirror and wasn’t sure what to wear. What clothes do people wear when they are at a dinner with literal multimillionaires? An hour (and a long call with Kelly) later she was dressed in a simple black dress with a split on the right side, her curled hair falling over her shoulders perfectly.

She felt a bit weird as she stepped down the stairs to her kitchen where she drank a glass of water while waiting for her brother to pick her up, as she had a feeling that she would be absolutely underdressed at the dinner.

Only a few minutes later she heard the doorbell and opened the door to find Max standing in front of her in dark blue jeans and a white button-up shirt.

“Hey, are you ready?”, he asked as he pulled her in a quick hug.

“No. Not really but let’s go. How many people are gonna be at the dinner?” Y/N was a bit worried as she hated to be around too many people – rich and arrogant people in particular as she had experienced that enough when she was still a kid, and her dad had always invited other rich people to their home.

“I only know that Charles will be there, and he will probably bring his girlfriend, Alex. I am sure you’ll like her. Also, Lando is probably going to be there as well as Carlos and his girlfriend Rebecca. George is also going to be there and that means his girlfriend will be there as well, Carmen. And probably the other drivers will be there as well, but I am not sure because George has planned it all.” Max paused to look at his little sister. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point we can just go. But I am sure you will get along just fine with everyone.”

Y/N just nodded as she sat down in the passenger seat of Max’ car. An Audi RS Q3 he always said was perfect for everyday tasks but Y/N knew he mostly had that car so he could easily drive around with his whole family. Kelly, Penelope and their future baby. Even though nobody knew about the pregnancy yet, not even their parents as Max and Kelly wanted to keep that to themselves for as long as possible.

Only a few minutes later they arrived at a nice and expensive looking restaurant where they stopped in the parking lot.

They stepped in the building where they were greeted by a waitress almost immediately. He brought them to a separated room where some people were already sitting around a big table.

“Hi guys. This is Y/N, my sister. She was kind enough to join me today. Y/N, you already know Charles, Carlos, Lando and Oscar? And there is the back we have Lewis, Checo, Yuki, Pierre, Fernando and Franco”, Max introduced her while his sister tried to continue smiling even though she just wants to be at home and watch on of her favorite tv shows.

“Yes, I do. It is really nice to meet y’all. Where can I sit?”, she asked as she didn’t want to be standing there being stared at by everyone.

A young woman pointed to the chair right next to hers and opposite three other women, who looked just as good. “You can sit here. I am Lily by the way. Oscar’s girlfriend. And that’s Alex, Charles’ girlfriend and Rebecca. She is Carlos’ girlfriend. And there we have Carmen who is here with George. So, you are Max’ sister?”

Y/N was a bit taken aback by the kindness of Lily. She didn’t think that anyone of the WAGs would be like that. She thought they would be more arrogant. More… reserved. Like she used to know them. But Lily and also the others seemed different.

“Uhm… Yeah, I am. He brought me here because Kelly’s abroad.” Y/N took a sip of the glass of water that was placed in front of her by one of the waitresses.

“Oh, that’s sad I was looking forward to finally meeting her, but it is nice that you are here! Max talks about you a lot. It feels like he loves you more than he loves Kelly”, Alex said laughing.

“That’s because he does,” Y/N said and was scared that the others wouldn’t get her little joke when they didn’t react but sighed relived when they started laughing.

They continued chatting a bit, but Y/N just had eyes for one person in the room. Lando. She had seen him before. Of course. But now that she saw him up closer, she couldn’t help but admire his looks. His curls were a nice brown color and couldn’t curl more. His eyes were a pretty blue that looked even better with him wearing this blue hoodie right now.

When Lando looked in her direction, she immediately looked away and grabbed her wine glass. No feelings for arrogant multimillionaires. She didn’t want, nor did she need that in her life.

***

The next morning Y/N woke up with the worst headache existing.

She opened her eyes and regretted it right away when the bright sunlight blended her.

She definitely made a big mistake drinking so much alcohol the day before.

It wasn’t until then that she noticed something warm next to her. A body. Not anyone’s body, she realized when she looked to the right. Lando.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This can’t be real.

But no. This wasn’t a dream, she quickly noticed when she wanted to get up and couldn’t find her clothes from the day before.

She got up and went to her closet in the exact moment she heard the doorbell ring. Now she remembered why she even woke up in the first place.

Y/N took a hoodie and sweatpants which she put on quickly before going downstairs to open the door.

“Hey! Wow, you look even worse than yesterday when you left”, Max said, only a second after Y/N had opened the door.

“Thanks”, she groaned. “What are you even doing here so early?”

“It is 1 pm. And I wanted to give you your purse. You forgot it in the car yesterday. Now, are you gonna offer your big brother a coffee as a thank you?”, Max asked and before Y/N could stop him he pushed her to the side and went straight to her kitchen.

“That’s not a good idea. I wanted to take a shower and then I have an appointment at- “, she couldn’t even finish the sentence when she heard her bedroom door open and heard footsteps on the stairs.

Only seconds later, Lando stepped in the kitchen, his hair tousled and only wearing his boxer briefs.

“Hey, Y/N do you- “, he immediately stopped when he spotted Max leaning on the counter. “Oh fuck.”

He immediately turned around and ran upstairs, figuring out that the following conversation shouldn’t happen with him just in his underwear.

“Lando! You fucking bastard. You slept with my sister?!” Max pushed himself off the counter to run after the Brit while Y/N just stood there, unable to react. And honestly, she didn’t even want to react. If she had the choice she would just go outside and hide somewhere to not be involved in the situation, but she knew that wouldn’t really work longer than a couple hours, so she could also just get it over with now.

“Max! Stop! Let Lando at least get dressed so he doesn’t have to talk to you about all that in just his underwear.”

“He fucking slept with you! I don’t care if he is wearing anything! Lando let me in you can’t lock yourself in the bedroom forever!”

Knowing she can’t convince Max to go downstairs she made her way upstairs.

“Max. Go downstairs and calm down. We were drunk. I also made the decision yesterday to sleep with him. So go downstairs, while Lando gets dressed, make a cup of coffee and wait.” Y/N glared at her brother, and it finally seemed to convince him.

“Fine. But you will both come to me immediately after he got dressed.” Reluctantly, the Dutch made his way to do what Y/N told him to do.

When Max was gone Y/N knocked at the wooden door.

“Lando. It’s me. Let me in.” Only a moment later, the Brit opened the door and peeked outside.

“Is he gone?”, he practically whispered.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how scared he looked. “Yes, he is. Now let me in because we have to talk about what we say to make sure Max doesn’t insult you even more.”

“How about we don’t say anything and just hide in here? I am scared of him, Y/N. I can’t go out there again. He will kill me because I slept with you! His little sister!”

“Lando. You know we can’t do that. We will go out there and tell him that we were drunk, and it won’t happen again. It was a one-time thing, and that’s- “, Y/N wanted to say more but was interrupted by Lando.

“What if it wasn’t.” The woman just stared at Lando for a couple seconds, suddenly frozen in place.

“Sorry?”

“What if- what if I want to do it again? Listen. We had fun together, didn’t we? So why don’t we continue with it? No feelings, of course. Max would kill us. Just fun.”

Y/N took her time to proceed what Lando had just said. They did, in fact, have fun. But it didn’t change the fact that it was stupid. But she couldn’t help it. She did like last night. It was one of the best nights of her life.

Lando had known exactly what to do. He touched her in all the right places, he was demanding yet gentle. Rough but soft. It was everything. It was almost intoxicating how he touched her – made her feel seen. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right. But then, what do we tell my brother?”

“Either the truth or we lie and say it won’t happen again. He doesn’t necessarily have to find out, does he? I am for the second option. Less of a risk to be killed, you know? But I think we should just see where the conversation takes us.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Ok”, she nodded. “Then let’s do that.”

Together they went downstairs. Max’ face was as red as a tomato since he was still mad at Lando. If he was being honest with himself, he knew that Lando wasn’t the only guilty one. His sister also decided to sleep with Lando, but it was easier to be mad at a colleague – even – than his little, innocent (or so he had thought) sister.

“So. Anyone here who wants to explain what happened yesterday?”, Max asked with an annoyed, maybe even hurt, look on his face.

“Max. I promise nothing bad has happened. Lando and I, we were drunk. It happens. I am 22 years old. I am pretty sure you know that what happened yesterday, has happened before. Just with other people. So, please. Don’t be mad at Lando for what happened. It was my decision as much as it was his.”

Y/N felt Lando standing next to her. He looked at Max calmly, trying to deescalate a potential argument, by just not saying anything. The Brit knew it was the smartest thing he could do in the moment.

“I know that it is normal what happened. But, Y/N, you also have to understand my point of view. He is a colleague. A rival of mine. And to be honest, he is not known for being the guy for long term relationships. I simply don’t want you to get hurt. And definitely not that you will have a broken heart because of him.” Max looked seriously concerned, protective.

“I won’t, Max. I promise. And even if he did break my heart, I would tell you right away so you can kill him on your own as soon as possible.”

The blonde man laughs while nodding. He stepped forward and wrapped Y/N up in his arms.

“Ok. I just want you to be happy. Do whatever you want just don’t tell me about it”, he mumbles in his sister’s hair before releasing her from his hug and turning around.

“I will go now. See you. Bye!”

Lando and Y/N flopped on the couch after saying their goodbyes and just a single minute later, Lando’s phone made a sound that signaled an incoming message.

If you hurt her, you are dead, just so you know. – Max

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

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I absolutely adore your roommate James series! It’s so tender and soft and sweet and it feels like the literary version of a hug 😭 you nail it every time!

Thank you sweetness!!! I am giving you a hug actually <3

cw: threatening with a weapon

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Things have come to a point where James needs to admit to himself that he likes you as more than a friend.

The problem is, he likes you as a friend so much. He’s no stranger to the dilemma of risking a friendship for something more, but he’s not a teenager anymore and you’re not Lily. James knows he wouldn’t be able to play it off as a silly, harmless crush with you. And, really, he wouldn’t want to. You bully your way into his thoughts all day long. Your sweet voice, the way you talk with your eyes, tiny moments like the way your lips parted when he’d first slipped and called you sweetheart. You’d schooled your expression into teasing exasperation almost immediately, but there had been a softening in your eyes that made him impatient to do it again.

If he told you all that, James would probably come home to find all your things gone. You can barely handle it when he tells you you look nice. He doesn’t want to lose you.

So, against his wishes and all his instincts and proclivities, he’s going to let it lie. James wants to be your friend more than he wants to discover what else you could be together. He can love you this way, too.

That doesn’t do anything to deaden the thrill that goes up his spine when he picks up his phone and hears your voice on the other end, though.

“James?”

“Y/n?” He checks the number on his phone. It’s not in his contacts.

“Yeah. Um, are you—are you busy?” There’s a wobble in your voice. James’ heart drops straight down to his stomach.

“I’m not,” he says, stopping short of the field where his teammates are gathering and turning back towards his car. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” It’s clearly not, but he was silly to ask. Of course you’d say that. “I just, if you’re free, I was wondering if you could maybe pick me up?”

That wobble hasn’t gone from your voice. James’ heart trembles in solidarity.

He gets back in his car, starting the ignition with perhaps a tad too much force. “I’m on my way,” he promises. “Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m outside the Waterstones on Manor Road, you know where that is?”

“I know the one, yeah.”

Your voice sounds held together by fragments. “I’m sorry, it’s far.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, then regrets it instantly. This is hardly the time for a good-natured scolding. He turns out of the parking lot. “I’m coming. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve—I’ve had my phone and wallet taken. I don’t have my key to the apartment.”

“Taken?” James’ head buzzes like a TV turned to the wrong channel. “By who?”

“A man, I—I don’t know. Um, I’m borrowing this woman’s phone, and I think I should give it back.”

His lungs feel small, panic choking him. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.” A breath crackles through the phone. James wonders if you’d been choking, too. “Thanks, James.”

“Just be safe.”

The sun has dipped below most buildings by the time he gets there. It makes it difficult to see you, but James’ eyes work like a compass, finding your shadowy form curled up on the curb. The bookstore looks to be closed or close to it, no patrons walking by you as you sit with your knees bent close to your chest.

You see his car pull up, and he’s halfway to you before you’re even standing. Your arms come around James as readily as his around you, your face squished willingly into the fabric of his workout shirt. Your breath seems to stutter out of you.

“It’s okay,” he says, grasping the back of your head. He’s not sure if he’s talking to you, or himself, or either of you. He’ll tell whoever will listen. “You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“Sorry,” you squeak. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.”

“You’re okay,” James says again, just for good measure. His lips find the top of your head. “What happened?”

“I think I was mugged,” you laugh. It comes out warped, completely unlike the sound he’s spent months chasing after. “This guy showed me a knife, and told me to hand him my bag and phone, and I just gave them to him. It was right out in the open.” Another jagged, heart-aching laugh. “I feel so stupid.”

“Why would someone else mugging you make you stupid?” James lets you go enough to give you a little space, but his arms stay around you, his hand rubbing firmly over your shoulder blade. “Did you call the police?”

You gnaw on your lower lip. It already looks bitten to shreds. “No.”

He nods, taking a breath. James isn’t typically the responsible one in his relationships. He’s not good at knowing what to do. It makes him think of being thirteen and seeing Sirius all bruised and broken, feeling his heart break and knowing that he had to fix things despite the both of them being too young to have any clue how to deal with something so huge. James is an adult now, but he still feels too young.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks you.

You bite down hard on your lip, but your eyes gloss anyway. “Yeah,” you say, voice breaking.

James pulls you close and gives in to treating you the way he wants to, kisses pressed into your hairline and tender words pouring from his lips. He gets you into the car and takes you home.

Throughout the rest of the evening, you’re at once more reticent and more talkative than you’ve ever been. You’ll stare into the distance for minutes at a time, but then you’ll speak up, seemingly randomly, about some small fact you’d forgotten or a thought that’s been pushing at your consciousness. You tell him that you don’t think you could describe the man well enough to the police. That you have no concept of how long you stood around before you thought to ask for someone else’s phone. That you sort of wish you’d refused to hand yours over, because really what was the worst that could have happened?

“Well, he could have stabbed you,” James says.

“Yeah, but how often is that really fatal? And he might not have. It’s embarrassing, all he had to do was show me the knife and I turned everything over. I probably would have been fine.”

“I don’t think you’re automatically fine if you’re not dead, angel. You were still at risk of being stabbed.”

“I’d still have my phone and everything, though.”

“I think you’re worth a bit more than that stuff.”

“Mm, agree to disagree.”

James does things he doesn’t particularly want to do—phoning your bank, filing a police report online, texting your landlord about a new set of keys—and several things he really does want to do. Once you’ve changed into your cozy clothes he practically swaddles you in blankets, putting a hot chocolate in your hand and that show you’re always watching on the TV. He makes you dinner, teases you until he gets a real smile, puts your mum’s number in his phone and texts her to let her know you’re okay. James touches you amply, lips on your cheek and hand smoothing the hair from your face and one knee pressing into your leg through the blanket.

And you let him.

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jihyoruri · 3 months ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LOVE SONG (youtube series)sophia laforteza x reader

💌★ ͘ ⴰ ever since dream academy the general public took notice of the tension between sophia and yn and not the good kind, it was obvious the two weren’t the biggest fans of each other and even more obvious when people watched pop star academy, so it leaves people wondering how they went from not even hiding their dislike for each other to being the most shipped in the group?

a series that shows youtube videos made by the very eyekon that made yn and sophia the ship they are today.

PARING — sophia laforteza x 7th member!reader

★ ͘ ⴰ genre + warnings : smau, various youtube videos, fluff, slight angst

last | masterlist | next

★ ͘ ⴰ VIDEO#1 yn and sophia being the ultimate enemies to lovers 80k views

— BEFORE DEBUT

➩ INTRO… 📼(when almost everyone in dream academy had sophia in their lineup… and then there’s yn)

yn tilted her head in thought, tapping her fingers against her chin as if solving a world shattering puzzle. “okay, definitely lara,” she began confidently, nodding as if solidifying her decision. “then daniela... megan... lexie…” she paused, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. “wait, am I just naming all the powerhouses right now?” (the audacity bffr yn.)

“nayoung, for sure… uh…” she trailed off, her brow furrowing before she suddenly snapped her fingers, her face lighting up. “oh! and manon. my girl, obviously.”

➩ INTRO… 2 📼(the infamous “maybe you’re just early every time”)

sophia and yn are standing side by side during practice, reviewing choreography. Sophia’s expression is calm but clearly exasperated. “yn, you’re late on the turn every time,” she says, her voice cutting but controlled.

yn nodded her head and turned around to get back in position before muttering “maybe you’re just early every time,” as quietly as possible but camera still picked up on it.

➩ INTRO… 3 📼(yn leaving sophia on read)

[screenshot of a group chat shared during a pop star academy episode ]

lara: hey guys, can we finalize vocals by tonight?

yn: yup!

sophia: sure, I just sent the arrangement notes to yn. yn let me know if it works.

lara: yn?

➩ INTRO… 3 📼(when they both showed up late…)

everyone was warming up when sophia walked in first, looking frazzled. moments later, yn strolled in casually, earning a sharp glare from Sophia.

“you’re late,” sophia pointed out.

“so are you,” yn countered, raising an eyebrow.

— AFTER DEBUT

➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼 (sophia and yn during rehearsal 🤭)

the camera zooms in as the members are stretching and warming up for their upcoming choreography session.

in the background, yn and sophia are standing close by, both practicing their formations.

yn reaches up to adjust her hair, and in that moment, her hand brushes against sophia’s. at first, sophia pulls back sharply, her gaze flicking towards yn with a flicker of surprise. but yn doesn’t make a big deal of it, instead casually continuing to adjust her position.

sophia hesitates for a moment, then subtly places her hand back on yn’s lower back to guide her into position.

➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼 (when sophia looked for yn after their first show)

the clip cuts to backstage where the members are all celebrating their first successful performance. Sophia walks past the members of the group, clearly scanning the area.

“has anyone seen yn?” she asks, her tone just a little softer than usual.

lara and daniela exchange a glance before lara shrugs. “she was just with megan, I think. why?”

sophia shrugs before she walks off in the direction they pointed. the camera follows her for a moment, and as she turns the corner, she finds yn sitting quietly, already taking off her stage makeup.

“hey,” Sophia says, her voice softer now. yn looks up, surprised but not annoyed.

“you okay?” Sophia asks again, sitting down beside her.

yn nods slowly, her eyes meeting sophia’s “yeah I’m just tired.” she mumbled before looking at the camera, “I can’t wait to nap in the car.” she says to it.

sophia watches her for a moment, “okay well, hurry up so you can sleep.”

➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼 (when yn got sophia extremely flustered)

the camera stilled on katseye as the girls stood together at a festival, watching the performance unfolding in front of them. the energy was electric, but yn’s attention shifted slightly to sophia, who was sitting beside her, intently watching the stage.

yn leaned in, her lips dangerously close to sophia ear as she whispered something. sophia barely registered at first, distracted by the booming music around them. she turned her head slightly, her face now directly in line with yn’s, and was startled at how close yn’s face had gotten.

sophia flinched back, her cheeks instantly flushing, and covered her face with her hand, the camera couldn’t pick up on what sophia was saying but they could tell she definitely said something along the lines of “what the hell, yn?”

yn, laughing softly, leaned her head onto sophia’s shoulder, her cheek brushing against it as she continued to chuckle at the flustered girl beside her.

➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼 (no words just this moment)

after a performance, the girls were walking out of the venue, chatting and laughing as they made their way to the van. sophia casually draped her arm around yn’s shoulder, she looked at yn and whispered something.

before yn could respond, megan suddenly pulled her away, waving enthusiastically at a fan and dragged her towards the van.

💌★ ͘ ⴰ TAGLIST @jaythegirlkisser @gtfoiydlyj @goofymickeyr @mandumandy @falling-intoo-deep @cassiespoiler @arihiu @fruityg0rl @sunshinez4 @kristalag

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye sophia #katseye sophia laforteza #katseye sophia x reader #katseye sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia x reader #katseye smau

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months ago

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You're the One - 1

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 2,100

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Having a cool dad like Bucky is a blessing. For Jade, it definitely is. Her friends, after meeting him, always say things like: “He’s so cool!” “He’s so funny!” or even, “Can we trade dads?”

Jade could only roll her eyes. Sure, Bucky’s pretty chill and easygoing about most things, but there’s one thing that drives her crazy.

It’s not a big deal for her, but for Bucky, it’s a huge one.

Romantic movies, especially where the bride runs away from the wedding.

That’s why their house only has action and mystery movies.

But tonight, Jade wants to watch one of her favorite genres at home. Why? Because their home theater is amazing, a special project Bucky built for his wife and daughter.

Unfortunately, her dad’s silly rules mean she can’t enjoy it.

But tonight is different. He’s heading out to pick up her mom from the airport.

Jade is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for her dad to leave.

In the hallway, Bucky stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt while whistling a tune. Through the mirror, he notices Jade watching him.

“Don’t have a house party,” he says, pointing at her with mock sternness.

“Yes, yes,” Jade replies, hopping off the counter. She walks over, pushes him toward the garage, and tosses him the car keys. “Go pick up Mom.”

Bucky chuckles as he stumbles slightly. “Alright, alright. You’re awfully eager to get rid of me tonight.”

She smirks. “I just know how much you missed her. You two will probably go straight to dinner or something. Now, go!”

Bucky shakes his head, amused, and heads to the car. But as he opens the door, he suddenly stops.

“Wait… my wallet.”

He heads back inside.

“Jade?” he calls out. No response.

On the counter, his wallet sits neatly next to the fruit bowl. Grabbing it, he pauses. The house feels… too quiet.

“Jade!” he calls again, louder this time.

Still no answer. Frowning, he checks the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs. Knocking on her bedroom door, he’s met with silence.

“Did she sneak out?” he mutters. That didn’t seem like her.

Then it hits him. The home theater.

As he walks back downstairs, the faint smell of buttered popcorn wafts through the air. His suspicions confirmed, he pushes open the theater door.

“Jade!”

Startled, Jade nearly drops her popcorn but manages to save most of it. “Dad!”

She fumbles for the remote, pausing the movie and quickly turning off the screen. Her heart races—the scene on display had been the bride in a wedding dress.

Bucky strides forward, picks up the DVD case, and reads the summary. With a single glance, he knows exactly what it is.

“Jade, how many times have I told you? No romantic movies like this in my house.”

“But why?” she groans, flopping dramatically into her seat. “We have the best home theater! I just want to use it!”

Bucky crosses his arms, his expression stern. “Because they’re predictable. It’s always the same: someone’s crying, someone’s chasing, someone’s kissing. And the bride always runs away for some cliché reason.”

Jade huffs. “Why do you hate them so much? It’s not like Mom ever ran away from a wedding or something.”

The moment she says it, Bucky freezes.

Jade stares at him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. Wait—she did, didn’t she?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He turns and heads toward the door, but Jade jumps up, running after him.

She wraps her arms around his waist, trying to hold him back. “Dad! Is it true? Did Mom run away? How did you chase her? Why am I just finding out now?”

“I’m going to be late picking her up,” Bucky mutters, dragging himself forward with his daughter clinging to him like a koala.

Then, a notification chimes.

Both father and daughter glance at the phone on the counter.

The family group chat reads: “The flight’s delayed three hours. 😔”

Jade grabs the phone and shows him. “Look, Dad! Mom won’t be here for another five hours.”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please tell me!” Jade begs. “I promise I won’t watch the movie. This is way more interesting. Why did Mom run?”

Bucky turns to her with a serious expression. “She didn’t run away.”

“Huh?” Jade tilts her head, confused.

“She didn’t run away,” Bucky repeats. “I kidnapped her on her wedding day.”

The room goes silent.

Jade’s jaw drops as she points an accusing finger at him. “You… you stole Mom from someone else?! You're the bad guy!"

Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes her hand down. “If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had a happy life.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a long drink.

Jade, now buzzing with excitement, follows him like a shadow. “Tell me! Tell me everything! How did that happen?”

Seeing her curiosity, Bucky sighs and gestures to the couch. “Fine. Sit down. I’m only telling this story once.”

Jade darts to the couch, grabs her popcorn, and settles in, eyes wide with anticipation.

Bucky clears his throat and leans back against the counter. “Alright. It was 15 years ago…”

💍🔔💍🔔

15 Years Ago

The changing room in the chapel buzzes with excitement. Your bridesmaids gather near the mirrors, giggling and chatting as they adjust their dresses and share jokes.

“Oh, did you see the flower arrangements?” one of them exclaims. “The Jordans really went all out!”

“They’re stunning. Just like this wedding,” another adds with a dreamy sigh.

Their energy fills the room, but you sit quietly in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The white wedding dress you’re wearing is nothing short of a masterpiece. Designed by a world-renowned fashion house, it fits you perfectly, every intricate detail exuding elegance. The lace, the pearls, the veil—it’s flawless.

But it doesn’t feel like yours.

“You’re so lucky,” one of the bridesmaids says, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “Everything about this wedding is perfect. And Clark? He’s an absolute catch. You’re living a dream!”

You force a smile, your lips twitching just enough to look convincing. “Yeah… lucky,” you reply softly, though your voice lacks conviction.

In truth, you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. This wedding isn’t about love; it’s about business. The Jordans—one of the wealthiest families in the country—are securing an alliance with your family. It’s an arrangement, a deal sealed with vows.

It’s not that you dislike Clark. He’s kind, patient, and honest—a good man by anyone’s standards. The wedding is happening with your consent, after all.

Still, your heart feels heavy, uneasy. Marriage is forever. And with Clark? The problem is, you don’t love him. Not yet.

You hope, maybe after the wedding, the love will grow. Maybe with time, you’ll learn to love each other deeply. But right now, your heart is stuck in the past.

It doesn’t belong to Clark—it belongs to someone else.

Bucky.

The thought of his name makes your breath hitch. That wild man who once turned your world upside down. He was nothing like the calm, dependable Clark. Your parents couldn’t stand him, but you didn’t care. You chose him. For a while, you and Bucky were unshakable, inseparable—until life threw challenges your way, and the weight of it all broke you apart. He was the one who ended it, leaving you shattered.

Your gaze drifts to the window. You wonder where he is now. Is he happy? Did he achieve his dreams? Has he found someone else?

You shake your head and whisper to yourself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you try to push the thoughts away. It’s your wedding day. You should be focused on Clark, not your ex. You give yourself a light tap on the forehead. “Stop it,” you mutter.

But just as you’re about to take a deep breath, the door to the changing room bursts open with a loud bang.

Startled, you whip your head around, your eyes widening.

“Bucky?!”

There he is, standing in the doorway like he’s just stepped out of a different world. His leather jacket looks completely out of place among the pristine suits and elegant dresses. His dark jeans and worn boots carry the same rugged confidence you remember.

“What are you doing here?” you stammer, rising to your feet, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest.

He steps closer, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to steal the bride.”

Your breath catches, and your mind races. “Huh?” is all you manage to get out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he closes the distance between you. In one swift motion, he grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bucky!” you shriek, pounding your fists against his back. “Put me down! Are you insane?!”

He chuckles, his grip firm as he carries you toward the door. “A little, yeah. But you’re not staying here.”

Your bridesmaids are frozen in shock, their mouths agape. One finally breaks the silence with a panicked, “Somebody stop him!”

But no one moves. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of the moment, or maybe it’s the dangerous confidence in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, you find yourself being carried out of the room, your heart racing in a way that feels strangely familiar.

“Bucky!” you shout again, your voice laced with equal parts anger and panic. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” he replies smoothly, “and I am.”

As he strides down the hallway, you struggle to free yourself, but his grip doesn’t falter. Despite the chaos, there’s a part of you—a small, buried part—that feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.

And that terrifies you.

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eu-nicola · 4 months ago

Text

the fastest driver part 2

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc

warnings: cheating (?), car accident

word counter: 9896

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request, thanks for the comments 🤍

tags: @ilovechickenwings @amortentiaaaa @wierdflowerpower @malvikareader @freyathehuntress

The sound of the rain softly hitting the hotel windows muffled any noise from the outside world. Inside the room, the air was thick, charged with a tension that had taken months to reach its breaking point. You were there, tangled with Max in a kiss that burned like fire, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment for far too long. His hand rested on your waist, firm yet trembling, as his lips sought yours with a mix of urgency and doubt.

You knew it was a mistake. You both knew it. But in that moment, logic and consequences seemed irrelevant.

You pulled away just a few inches, breathing heavily, and looked into his eyes. His were dark, filled with something you hadn’t seen before, a mix of desire, regret, and something else you couldn’t identify.

“We shouldn’t be doing this” you whispered, though you made no move to pull away.

Max closed his eyes, as if trying to find strength in the darkness.

“I know” he replied, his voice hoarse. “But I can’t stop.”

It had all started that same night, after the press conference in Singapore. You’d had an intense day, with endless training sessions and meetings. When the day finally ended, the team had organized a small informal dinner at the hotel. It was something routine after the toughest workdays, a way to unwind and reconnect as a group.

During dinner, Max had been sitting next to you, as always. The conversation flowed naturally between the two of you, alternating between technical topics and light jokes. But beneath the surface, you felt that tension that hadn’t faded since that conversation on the terrace. Every time your gazes met, every time your arms accidentally brushed, it was like a reminder that you were playing with fire.

After dinner, everyone started to disperse. Some engineers stayed at the hotel bar, while others decided to retire early to their rooms. You were about to do the same when Max approached you.

“One more round?,” he asked, holding a couple of water bottles in his hands. “We could go over some ideas for tomorrow.”

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to stay talking about strategies or techniques outside official hours, so you didn’t think anything was out of place. You nodded, following him to a common room in the hotel, where you sat on a couch to go over some data on his tablet.

At first, everything was strictly professional. Max showed you a replay of your fastest lap and pointed out small adjustments you could make. You listened attentively, asking questions and taking notes. But as the conversation progressed, something changed. His comments became more personal, and his eyes seemed to study you more than the screen.

“You’re amazing, you know?,” he suddenly said, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

You looked at him, surprised.

“Why do you say that?.”

“Because you are. Everything you do, how you handle all of this… It’s impressive.”

His voice was soft, and there was something in his tone that made your heart race. You tried to respond, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, you just looked at him, and he returned your gaze with an intensity that made time seem to stop.

That was when you felt it: that moment when the line between you two was about to break.

You tried to break the tension by standing up from the couch, but he did the same, stepping in front of you.

“Max…” you began, but you couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You didn’t. Instead, you stayed there, looking at him, knowing you didn’t want him to stop. It was he who took the first step, moving slowly, as if giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips finally found yours, it was as if all doubts and barriers crumbled instantly.

After that first kiss, everything became a blur. You didn’t remember exactly how you had ended up in his room, only that the elevator had gone up too slowly, and every second had felt eternal. When you crossed the door, neither of you wasted time with words.

Now, standing in the middle of the room, with his hands on your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair, you felt like you were walking on the edge of an abyss. You knew there was no turning back, but you weren’t sure you wanted to.

Max pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“This is wrong,” he said, but his hands didn’t move from your waist.

“I know,” you replied, not letting go. “But I can’t help it.”

You both stood in silence, trapped in that moment that seemed to hold everything you had been repressing for months. Finally, Max sighed and took a step back, as if he were struggling with himself.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound convinced.

“Then why are we here?,” you asked, your voice heavy with frustration.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at you as if searching for an answer in your face.

“Cause I can’t stay away from you,” he finally confessed.

Those words fell like a bomb, tearing down any walls that remained between you. Without thinking, you kissed him again, and this time, neither of you tried to stop.

As the night went on, you knew this would complicate everything, that you had crossed a line you could never undo. But in that moment, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was him, and what you felt when you were with him.

You knew that dawn would bring questions, doubts, and maybe regrets. But in that moment, you chose to stay in the room, in his embrace, letting the world wait a little longer.

Since that night in Singapore, something between you and Max had changed. Though you tried to keep things as they were, it wasn’t long before the bond you had formed became deeper and more complicated. Max, with his impulsive character and his unshakable philosophy that personal success came above all, began to influence you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

At first, you resisted admitting how much he had started to shape your way of being. But the truth was undeniable: his intensity, his ambition, and his lack of remorse started to seem attractive, even necessary. Being by his side made you feel invincible, as if the rules didn’t apply to you. And in the chaos of Formula 1, where every little mistake could cost you everything, that mentality was dangerous but intoxicating.

It was in Mexico that you first noticed how much Max was influencing you. During qualifying, your engineer suggested a conservative strategy to secure a decent grid position. But as you listened to his explanation over the radio, you felt Max’s gaze from the other side of the garage.

“Take risks,” he had told you the night before in a casual conversation while reviewing data. His voice echoed in your mind. “If you don’t, someone else will.”

So you ignored the team’s suggestion and attacked the lap aggressively, pushing the car to its limits. When you crossed the line, you had secured a better position than expected, but at the same time, you had worn the tires more than necessary. Your engineer was frustrated, but Max was pleased.

“That’s what I want to see,” he said to you afterward, with a crooked smile as the two of you reviewed your data in the paddock. “You can’t expect them to do it all for you. Sometimes you have to take control, even if that means breaking a few rules.”

You returned his smile, knowing those words were dangerous but also addictive.

As the season progressed and the end drew closer, the two of you spent more and more time together. The professional and personal aspects blended in a way you couldn’t stop. Max was your mentor, your friend, and now, your lover. It was a secret you both guarded carefully, aware of what it would mean if anyone else found out. But in private, you couldn’t stay away from each other.

After every race, no matter whether you had won or lost, he found a way to seek you out. Sometimes it was a conversation in a secluded room in the paddock, other times it was in the privacy of a hotel. There was something in the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person who mattered, that made everything else seem irrelevant.

It was in Brazil that things intensified even more. You had finished second behind Max in a tight race, and although you were proud of your result, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you could have won if the team had adjusted the strategy. After the press conference, while everyone was celebrating, Max found you in a corner of the motorhome.

“Not bad for someone who’s still learning,” he joked, with that arrogant smile that always made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you replied, laughing, though his words had alleviated some of your frustration.

He took one step closer, and his expression changed. The intensity in his gaze trapped you, and before you could think of the consequences, he took your hand and led you out of the motorhome, away from the noise of the party. You ended up in his room, and, as always, the tension between you two overflowed.

The line no longer existed.

That night, you realized there was no going back. Max was a whirlwind that had swept away your boundaries and doubts. In his company, you felt more powerful, more confident, but also more vulnerable. You had crossed the line between professional and personal, and it was becoming harder and harder to distinguish where your career ended and where your life with him began.

The next morning, while you watched him sleep beside you, you wondered how long you could keep this secret. You knew the truth would eventually come to light, but for now, you held on to the moment, to the feeling of being invincible by his side, even if the price was high.

Max was right about one thing: to win, sometimes you had to break the rules. And you had decided you were willing to do so, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

On the other hand, the change in your driving style quickly caught the attention of the media. What had started as an evolution in your competitive style soon became a hot topic of debate. Your more aggressive approach, your willingness to take risks, and your refusal to give up ground on the track were interpreted as a radical transformation, and not everyone was willing to accept it.

The comments started subtly, during live broadcasts.

"Looks like she's adopting a bolder style," a journalist commented after a risky maneuver you made in Las Vegas to overtake Carlos Sainz. "Although some might say she's pushing the limits of what's acceptable."

But soon, the criticism turned more personal.

In the weeks that followed, headlines grew more aggressive. Sports newspapers and social media were filled with comments about your "masculine attitude" on the track. Some praised you, saying you had stopped being a driver who played defensively, while others criticized you for abandoning what they considered a "more elegant" and "appropriate style for a woman."

"Is this what we want to see in Formula 1?" asked a commentator on an analysis program. "I'm not saying she shouldn't be competitive, but it seems like she's trying to imitate the more aggressive drivers instead of finding her own way."

The words hit hard. You knew exactly who they were referring to with "more aggressive drivers." It was an implicit reference to Max, and the fact that your relationship with him remained a secret didn’t help divert the suspicions.

The pressure reached a boiling point during the Qatar Grand Prix weekend. In the pre-race press conference, a journalist threw a question that seemed designed to unsettle you.

"You've been accused of adopting an 'overly aggressive' driving style. Some even say you're trying to copy Max Verstappen. What do you have to say about that?"

You took a deep breath, maintaining the calm you had practiced so many times.

"My driving style is mine," you replied firmly. "Every driver has their own way of approaching races, and what I do on the track is the result of years of work and learning. If being aggressive means fighting to win, then yes, I am aggressive."

But the journalist didn’t stop there.

"Don't you think this aggression might be considered inappropriate for a woman in a traditionally male-dominated sport?"

There was a murmur in the room, and you could feel the rage beginning to bubble inside you. Max, sitting beside you, shot you a quick glance, as if reminding you not to lose control.

"I think that question says more about the person asking it than about me," you said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "We're in 2025. Are we really still questioning whether a woman can be competitive in Formula 1?"

The response earned a discreet applause from some journalists, but you knew the damage had already been done.

That night, while you were in your room going over your notes for the race, Max appeared at the door. He didn’t say anything at first, simply sank into a chair in front of you, watching you in silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked finally.

You shook your head, but he didn’t accept your answer.

"Look, I know what they’re saying about you," he continued, his tone more serious than usual. "And I understand how it feels. I went through the same thing when I came into Formula 1. They called me irresponsible, dangerous, immature..."

"And how did you handle it?" you asked, not hiding your frustration.

Max shrugged.

"I let them talk. In the end, the only thing that matters is what you do on the track. Winning shuts everyone up."

"And what if I don’t win?" you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

Max leaned forward, fixing his eyes on yours.

"You will win."

His words, though simple, carried a weight that managed to calm some of your anxiety.

On Sunday, with the criticism still fresh in your mind, you decided you couldn’t afford to doubt yourself. The race was one of the most intense of the season, with risky overtakes and moments where it seemed like everything was about to collapse. But in the end, you crossed the finish line in second place, just behind Max.

When you got out of the car, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Although the media still questioned your style, the fans seemed to be on your side. As you climbed onto the podium, trophy in hand, you understood what Max had meant.

The comments would continue. The criticism wouldn’t disappear. But as long as you kept performing on the track, as long as you kept fighting for your place, no one could take away what you had earned.

That night, as you celebrated with the team, Max approached you and whispered something in your ear.

"I told you you’d win."

The end of the season had arrived, and with it, the culmination of a year full of triumphs, tensions, and decisions that would change the course of your life. In the final race, in Abu Dhabi, Max had secured his fifth consecutive championship with an impeccable victory, while you finished second in the overall standings. You had fought until the end, and although you didn’t take the title, you were satisfied with what you had achieved.

When you stepped off the podium, the joy of your team was palpable. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, hugs, and congratulations, but you felt something else: a deep exhaustion, a need to escape the noise and find some clarity. While Max raised his trophy under the fireworks, you looked at him and couldn’t help but wonder what would happen between you two now that the season was over.

Hours later, the Red Bull party was in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, but you found yourself apart, in a quiet corner, holding a glass of champagne and watching your teammates. Max was surrounded by people, as always, his easy smile and magnetic energy lighting up the room.

Finally, your eyes met, and he walked over, leaving the group around him.

"What are you doing here alone?" he asked, leaning slightly so only you could hear.

"I'm just taking a moment for myself," you replied, forcing a smile. "It’s been a long year."

Max looked at you in silence for a moment, as if trying to read your thoughts. Then, he took your hand and led you away from the noise, to a private terrace.

The cool night air was a relief. You both leaned on the railing, gazing at the lights that still shone on the track.

"Congratulations, champ," you finally said, breaking the silence.

"Thanks," he replied, though his tone was softer than usual. "And congratulations to you, too. This was your strongest year."

"Not strong enough to beat you," you joked, but he didn’t laugh.

"You’re closer than you think."

The conversation turned to vacations, the break they both desperately needed. But as they spoke, you couldn’t ignore the unease that had settled in your chest. Vacations meant time away from the chaos of Formula 1, but they also meant time away from Max.

He, on the other hand, seemed carefree, talking about plans to travel, relax, and disconnect from everything. But in his gaze, there was something else, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What are you going to do during the holidays?,” he asked, finally.

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe visit my family, spend some time at home. I need a little normalcy.”

Max nodded, but didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone was more serious.

“You know this... what we have... is complicated.”

Your heart tightened at his words, even though you knew it was true.

“I know,” you said, trying to maintain composure.

“I don’t want you to think that this doesn’t mean anything to me,” he continued, looking out at the horizon. “But in this world, it’s difficult...”

“Difficult...” you finished for him, feeling a lump in your throat.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned toward you, placing a hand on your cheek.

“You’re amazing, you know that? Not just as a driver, but as a person. But...”

You didn’t need him to finish the sentence. You knew that what was everything to you, for him, was a way to escape the pressure, an adventure without attachments. And yet, there was something in his gaze, the way his hand trembled slightly as he touched you, that made you think maybe it wasn’t as simple for him as he wanted it to seem.

When you finally returned to the party, neither of you said anything more about the matter. Max went back to being the center of attention, and you joined the group, pretending everything was fine. But as you watched him laugh and joke with the others, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

The holidays would be a turning point, you knew. It was a time to reflect, to decide what your relationship with him really meant and whether you were willing to stay on that tightrope.

As the night came to a close, you said goodbye to everyone and headed back to your room. You sat on the bed, staring at the trophy you had won that day, but your mind was far from the track.

Max had been your first everything. But now, as you faced weeks of uncertainty, you wondered if it was also your first great lesson on what it meant to love someone who might never love you in the same way.

You knew you’d figure it out soon. But for now, all you could do was wait.

When the holidays began, you knew that, inevitably, your paths and Max’s would cross again. Even though both of you needed space, the geographical proximity in Monaco made it almost impossible to avoid each other. And, deep down, you didn’t want to. There was something unfinished between you two, something that needed to be said.

The first time you saw him was on his yacht, where he organized a discreet meeting with a few close friends. The atmosphere was relaxed, with laughter and wine glasses, but your eyes always found his. Max acted as usual: charming, relaxed, pretending like the weight of the world never touched him. But you knew better. You knew how he hid his emotions under that facade.

The second time was more intimate. He invited you to dinner at one of his apartments, a quiet evening that ended with a palpable tension.

It all started with a seemingly harmless conversation about his plans for the rest of the holidays.

“Are you planning to travel?,” you asked as you dined, trying to keep the tone light.

Max shrugged.

“I’ll probably spend a few days in the Netherlands with my family. Maybe make a quick trip to Spain.”

“And what about us?,” you asked, almost without realizing it. The question came out before you could stop it.

Max looked up, surprised by your tone.

“Us?.”

“Yes, Max. Us. This... whatever it is we’re doing. What does it mean to you?.”

He put his fork down and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You know I don’t like putting labels on things.”

“I’m not asking for a label,” you replied, feeling frustration bubbling inside. “I just want to know where I stand.”

Max frowned, as if trying to find the right words, but his tone was colder than you expected.

“Why do we need to define it? What we have works, right?.”

That response was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Works for who, Max?,” you spat, your voice rising slightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like this only works for you. I’m the one who has to hide, the one who has to accept that we’re nothing more than a distraction to you.”

He stood up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s not fair. I never promised you anything.”

“No, you didn’t!,” you admitted, standing up as well. “But you didn’t let me go either. Every time I try to put some distance, you do something that makes me stay. And I, like an idiot, keep falling for it.”

Max seemed to stagger at your words, but his pride didn’t allow him to back down.

“It’s not my fault if you expect something I can’t give you.”

“Then what am I to you, Max? A distraction? A pastime between races?,” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain.

“That’s not fair,” he repeated, but this time his tone was softer.

The room fell silent for a moment. Max looked away, unable to face you directly. You knew there were feelings behind his cold demeanor, but you also knew he wasn’t ready to admit them, not even to himself.

“Look, I don’t know what you expected,” he said finally, his tone tired. “This isn’t easy for me either. You know I have someone.”

“Oh, really?,” you said sarcastically. “Because from here it seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

“I don’t have everything under control!,” he exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time. “Do you think this doesn’t affect me? Do you think I don’t think about you more than I should?.”

You froze at his confession. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something more, something that would explain everything. But instead, Max shook his head, as if he were fighting with his own thoughts.

“But I can’t give you what you want. Not now.”

That was the statement that ended the argument. You didn’t know whether you felt more sadness or anger, but you understood that you couldn’t keep going like this.

“Then don’t ask me to stay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t ask me to keep being the one who adapts, the one who hides, the one who’s always available when you decide you need me.”

He didn’t respond. You waited, giving him one last chance to say something that would make you change your mind. But the silence was deafening.

Finally, you grabbed your things and left the apartment, leaving Max alone in his own storm.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Monaco, you felt a mix of liberation and sadness. You knew you had made the right decision, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Max had been an important part of your life, but now you understood that you couldn’t keep being a shadow in his world.

The vacation had just begun, but you already felt like you were in a new chapter. And while you didn’t know what the future held, you were determined to find your own path, even if that meant leaving Max behind.

The decision to spend your vacation in Italy wasn’t impulsive. After the emotional storm that marked the end of the season, you needed a place where you could find yourself, far from the hustle and bustle of Monaco and the ever-watchful eyes that seemed to follow you. Italy had always been a refuge for you: the peaceful hills of Tuscany, the small cafes in Rome, the calm of Lake Como. There, you felt like you could breathe.

However, what began as an attempt to find peace turned into something more. During long walks down cobblestone streets and endless nights of reflection, you began to question your place at Red Bull and in Formula 1 in general. Something didn’t fit, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to recognize it.

One afternoon, while sitting on a terrace overlooking Florence, you found yourself writing a list in a notebook. One column listed the things you liked about Red Bull: competitiveness, top-level engineering, the chance to fight for the title. The other column, however, was longer: constant pressure, the tense relationship with Max, the feeling that you were always fighting to be seen as something more than a “second driver.”

It was then that you knew. You couldn’t stay at Red Bull anymore. You had reached a point where your success didn’t fulfill you, because it always seemed to come at the cost of your happiness. You needed a change, and you knew exactly where you wanted to be.

A few days later, you found yourself on a video call with Zak Brown. The conversation started off cordial, with Zak asking how your vacation was going and casually mentioning that Piastri was considering options outside McLaren. Then, you dropped it:

—Zak, I want to talk about the possibility of joining McLaren.

There was a brief but intense silence on the other side of the screen. Then, a slow smile began to form on his face.

—Are you serious? —he asked, clearly intrigued.

—Completely. I feel like Red Bull is no longer the right place for me. I’m looking for a team where I can build something, not just adapt to what already exists. And I think McLaren can be that place.

Zak nodded, leaning back in his chair as he processed your words.

—I can’t deny it would be a big move for us. If you’re willing to take the leap, we are too.

In the following days, negotiations began. Everything was done in the strictest secrecy, far from the eyes of the media and the ears of Red Bull. You knew the news of your departure would be a bombshell, especially since Piastri was being considered as your replacement.

You didn’t tell anyone, not even Max. It wasn’t a conversation you were willing to have with him, not after how things had ended. This decision was yours alone, and you needed to keep it that way.

The news broke on the first day of the new year, as the holidays were coming to an end. While you were at the Milan airport, waiting for your flight back to Monaco, your phone started vibrating incessantly. Opening Twitter, you saw the headlines:

“Oscar Piastri joins Red Bull as Max Verstappen’s teammate” “Red Bull confirms the departure of its star driver after a successful season” “McLaren signs the star driver for 2025 in a surprising move”

You took a deep breath as you read the comments. Most fans were shocked; some criticized you for leaving such a competitive team, while others praised your decision to find a place where you could shine on your own.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out how Max would react. As soon as you landed in Monaco, you received a message from him.

Max: Is this a joke? You went to McLaren without telling me anything?

You sighed, knowing this conversation would be inevitable. After getting to your apartment, you called him.

“Hi, Max.”

“I can’t believe it,” was the first thing he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “You decided this without even mentioning it to me?.”

“Max, this decision has nothing to do with you,” you replied, trying to stay calm. “It’s something I needed to do for myself.”

“For yourself?,” he repeated, almost laughing. “You were in the best team, with the best car, fighting for titles. Why would you leave that?.”

“Because I don’t want to be just an extension of your success,” you said, feeling your voice fill with determination. “I want to build something of my own, and McLaren gives me that opportunity.”

Max fell silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was softer, but also colder.

“I hope you don’t regret it.”

“I won’t,” you answered, with more confidence than you felt in that moment.

Even now, with all the drama, you had flashbacks of you and Max during your early days at Red Bull, which had also been quite a whirlwind. He wasn’t just a driver: he was the driver. His confidence, almost arrogance, permeated every conversation, every strategy, every decision. But rather than intimidate you, that pushed you. You wanted to prove that you belonged at that level too.

Max respected you as a driver, but kept a clear distance. It was his way of protecting himself in an environment where emotional alliances often complicated things. You weren’t interested in anything else either. At least, not at first.

You remember everything started to change after the third race of the season. You had a difficult weekend: mechanical issues in practice, a crash in qualifying, and a minor contact in the race that left you out of the points. You were exhausted, frustrated, and harder on yourself than you should have been.

That night, while reviewing the data in the motorhome, Max walked in and sat down across from you, with a beer in hand.

“Why are you still here?,” he asked, leaning forward.

You looked up, confused.

“I’m reviewing the data. I need to understand what happened.”

Max shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“You already know what happened. You had bad luck. That happens to anyone. Don’t obsess over what you can’t change.”

His words surprised you. Max Verstappen, the driver known for his obsession with perfection, was telling you to let go of a bad day.

“Easy for you to say,” you replied, with a sharper tone than you intended. “You’re the World Champion.”

Max leaned back, taking a sip of his beer before answering.

“Do you think I haven’t had shitty days? What matters is how you come back. And you... you’ve got what it takes to come back.”

That small, unexpected gesture of support was the first step.

With each race, the relationship between you two grew stronger. Max started seeking you out to review strategies together or just to chat during flights. You, in turn, started seeing him as more than just a driver: someone passionate, fun on his good days, and deeply competitive.

One time, during a trip to Canada, the two of you ended up sitting next to each other on the team’s private plane. While everyone else slept, you started talking about everything and nothing: your childhoods, the races that had marked you, the sacrifices you’d made to get to Formula 1.

“Sometimes, I wonder if it’s all worth it,” you said, after a long silence.

Max looked at you with curiosity.

“Seriously?.”

You nodded.

“Of course I love this, but I also wonder what I’d be doing if I weren’t here. If I’d have a simpler life, with less pressure.”

Max thought for a moment before replying.

“I never ask myself that. Not because it’s not hard, but because I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

That comment made you see him in a new light. For Max, F1 wasn’t just his job, it was his life. And while you shared that passion, you also realized that he lived it in a way no one else could understand.

The tension between you began to become more evident in the little things. The way he would look for you with his gaze when you entered a room. The private jokes you shared during breaks. The way your hands would accidentally brush when checking data on the screen.

It was after a particularly difficult race in Austria when the tension reached its peak. You finished second behind Max, but only because the team had ordered you to hold position. You were furious, though you tried to hide it.

That night, Max came looking for you at your room. When you opened the door, you saw him with an expression you hadn't seen before: a mix of concern and something else you couldn't identify.

"Are you okay?,” he asked, though both of you knew that wasn't the case.

"Why do you care?,” you replied, tired of everything.

Instead of answering, Max took a step toward you, crossing the threshold of the door. The space between you was minimal, and you could feel the intensity in his gaze.

"I care because you're my teammate," he said at first, but then added in a lower tone. "And because... I can't help it."

That was the moment when everything changed. Nothing happened that night, but the line between you two had been erased. You both knew it, though neither of you wanted to admit it.

That tension, that undeniable connection, was what led you to cross the line later. But that was the beginning: a brush of hands, a gaze that lingered too long, a silence full of things neither of you dared to say.

After that, there was another night in Singapore where the story had started, your story.

Now that was behind you, and you were far from him and from the team.

A few weeks later, the new season had started, but not with Red Bull. Now you wore McLaren's iconic papaya orange, a decision that had taken the motorsport world by surprise. Despite Red Bull's initial resistance to letting you go, you broke the contract after unbearable tension. Now you shared a garage with Lando Norris, on a team that seemed ready to give you the spotlight you had longed for. However, leaving Red Bull behind didn’t mean leaving Max behind.

Max remained a constant, though now from the other side of the paddock. The first official encounter of the season in Bahrain was everything you had expected: tense and full of silent reproaches. Although both of you tried to maintain professionalism, the media quickly picked up on the coldness between you. And with each practice, that coldness transformed into a dangerous mix of rivalry, resentment, and something that never seemed to disappear: the history you both shared.

In the first race of the season, the problems between you transferred to the asphalt. During lap 32, you were fighting for the podium with Max behind you, pressuring you on every corner. His insistence was suffocating, and in an aggressive attempt to overtake you, he made contact with your car, forcing you off track.

"This is unacceptable," you shouted over the radio, your voice full of frustration.

Although the stewards didn’t impose any penalties, the incident made it clear that Max wasn’t willing to give you any mercy. But what hurt you the most was seeing him after the race when he completely ignored you in the paddock, as if you were a stranger.

After the race, you were in your Motorhome, reviewing the replays of the incident, when someone knocked on the door. You opened it, and there he was, with a frown and arms crossed.

"What the hell was that today?,” he asked, walking in without waiting for an invitation.

"What the hell was what?,” you replied, closing the door behind him. "You're the one who knocked me off track."

Max let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Please. If you hadn't closed so much on the corner, none of this would have happened."

Your blood began to boil.

"Are you really going to blame me for this? Because I didn’t let you pass like when we were at Red Bull? I hate to break your illusion, Max, but I'm not your teammate anymore."

He turned toward you, his eyes filled with anger, but also with something you couldn’t quite identify.

"You made that clear when you left. But you know this goes beyond that."

"What are you talking about?,” you asked, crossing your arms.

Max took a step toward you, closing the distance between you two.

"About you. About us. About how you can’t handle all of this without it becoming a personal problem."

You felt your heart beat faster, but you weren’t going to let it affect you.

"This has nothing to do with 'us.' This is about racing, Max. And if you can’t handle that I’m no longer part of your little world, that’s your problem, not mine."

For a moment, Max seemed like he wanted to respond, but instead, he shook his head and walked toward the door.

"You know, I thought you were different. But it seems like everyone in this sport is the same."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water, but you refused to show it.

"And I thought you could be professional for once. Seems like we were both wrong."

Max left, slamming the door open behind him, and you collapsed on the couch, feeling exhausted.

The first days after the tension with Max passed quickly, but not for the reason you expected. You didn’t obsess over what had happened with him or the hurtful words that still echoed in your mind. What worried you most now was your integration into McLaren, especially your relationship with Lando Norris, your new teammate.

Lando was the complete opposite of Max: relaxed, fun, and with an attitude that, although professional, never lost its laid-back vibe. Instead of pressuring you or criticizing you constantly like Max did in his "mentor" version, Lando preferred to offer support without overwhelming you. He had a way of making everything seem easier, even when things on the track got complicated.

At first, you felt like a bit of an outsider. McLaren was a team with its own culture, and even though it wasn’t your first year in F1, you always carried that sense of nervousness at the start of a new chapter. Lando, however, did everything possible to make you feel welcome. At first, it was something as simple as joking about the team’s coffee, which according to him, always tasted like "hot water with a touch of desperation." After some laughs, the atmosphere started to relax, and little by little, you began to feel more comfortable with him and the rest of the team.

The first official team event, a press conference, was when things really began to change. During the interview, a journalist asked Lando how he felt about having a new teammate, and he, without losing his composure, gave a quick answer that made you smile.

"Well, the truth is it’s been an interesting experience. She brings a positive energy, and... she makes me feel like I'm still the 'young guy' on the team, even though technically I'm not. So, it’s fun having her on board!"

Everyone laughed, and, to your surprise, that broke the ice. The journalists quickly turned the focus to you, and Lando passed the ball with a mischievous smile.

"What I can say about my teammate is that, although she seems very serious, she has a good sense of humor. I can’t wait to see what happens this season."

From there on, things felt easier. It was as if, without even trying, Lando had smoothed the transition. The chemistry between you two flowed quickly, with no tension or unreachable expectations. You didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, just be yourself.

The ease with which you communicated impressed you. It wasn’t like with Max, where you always felt like you had to "prove yourself" or show something. With Lando, everything flowed naturally. If something didn’t work, you just adjusted it, with no drama or expectations. He was a teammate who truly believed in collaboration, not internal competition.

By the end of the first month at McLaren, you knew joining them had been the right decision.

Little by little, the start of the season at McLaren seemed to be going in the right direction: your relationship with Lando was strengthening, the team was improving, and, little by little, you felt like you were finding your rhythm in a car that, although not the fastest on the grid, gave you the sense of control you had lost the previous year. However, things with Max weren’t going well; in fact, they were getting even more complicated.

Although he was still racing for Red Bull, with his undeniable dominance on the track, the rivalry that had ignited the previous year seemed to intensify with every race. No matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t worth focusing on what Max was doing or not doing, he was always there, whether in interviews, in media comments, or even on the track, challenging you to prove you were still more than his shadow.

In the first lap of Australia, a circuit you both knew inside and out. In practice, Red Bull had been clearly superior, but McLaren was more competitive than ever. The chance to snatch a win from Max wasn’t impossible, but it wouldn’t be easy. During the race, Max constantly pressured you. Although he wasn’t being as aggressive as he had been in the past, his presence behind you was suffocating, his car always right next to you in the fast corners.

You remember how, at one point in the race, during an overtaking move in turn 8, Max tried to pass you on the inside, clearly with the intention to intimidate you. It was a risky maneuver, and although logic told you to give way, you decided not to. You had enough space to hold your line, and although you didn’t manage to block him completely, the resistance you offered forced him to brake a little more than expected. That small detail allowed you to keep the position, something that seemed to irritate him.

When the race ended, Max finished in second place, right behind you. As you passed through the cooling area, you could see him in his car, staring at you with that defiant look he was so good at putting on. The crowd noticed it, the journalists noticed it, and, of course, you noticed it too.

At the end of the race, while you were getting ready to leave the paddock, one of McLaren’s engineers told you that Max had requested to speak with you. You didn’t understand why he wanted to do that, and honestly, you weren’t in the mood to face him after what had happened on track. But, as always, appearances mattered, and you couldn’t just ignore him. So, you agreed, even though you knew it would be an uncomfortable encounter.

Max was waiting for you near the Red Bull hospitality, arms crossed, a typical defensive posture. He didn’t say anything at first, but when you looked at him, his face was more serious than usual.

“What’s wrong with you?” he finally said, his tone as direct and blunt as ever. “You know that if you’d let me pass, we could’ve fought more cleanly. Why do you keep acting like it’s all personal?”

You were surprised that the conversation was going in that direction, as if you weren’t racing, as if it was a matter of pride. But, you knew this was Max. It always had to be him first.

“Personal?” you repeated, letting sarcasm fill your voice. “You’re the first one to make it personal. If you’d given me space, we wouldn’t have this problem, but no, you always have to be the one to set the pace, don’t you?”

Max took a step toward you, but not enough to invade your personal space. His gaze hardened.

“It’s not about setting the pace. It’s about being competitive. You still don’t understand how this sport works. You have to go for it, not care about what others think.”

Your breath quickened, not out of fear, but from the anger that had been building up for months.

“I think the problem here isn’t that I don’t understand the sport, Max. The problem is that you’ve never learned how to be a true teammate, and now you’re trying to dictate how I should race. I’m tired of you doing this.”

Max, as expected, didn’t say anything more. He just stared at you for a couple of seconds, as if waiting for you to change your mind or apologize. But you wouldn’t. Not anymore. Not when you knew that, for him, everything had always been about ego, about being the best, the fastest, the one who wouldn’t let anyone overtake him.

The rivalry between you and Max continued to grow. Every time you saw him on track, you knew that, at least for him, it had become personal. What once was a professional competition had become something much more visceral, and every time the two teams met on the track, the tension between you was palpable. But far from being a negative thing, it motivated you to improve. You no longer just wanted to beat Max for the sake of it; now, it was a personal necessity.

The revenge came for him in Monaco. On such a tight, technical circuit, any mistake could be fatal, and Max, although he initially seemed to have the advantage, began to falter in the final laps, losing traction in the trickiest parts of the circuit. It was then, on lap 68, that you seized your opportunity.

Max was charging full throttle, but as you exited the tunnel, his car began to slide slightly. That was enough for you to pass him on the inside at Sainte-Dévote. As you passed him, you felt a mix of adrenaline and satisfaction. Finally, the competition that had defined you for so long, you had surpassed.

At the end of the race, while celebrating your podium, Max’s gaze from the other side of the garage was clear. It was no longer just a rivalry; now, it had become a personal duel.

The victory in Monaco was a milestone in your career. Not only because it had been one of the best races of your life, but because at the end of the day, you didn’t just celebrate with the McLaren team, but also felt a kind of personal vindication. You had beaten Max, done what many thought was impossible. Not just as a driver, but as someone who had constantly been underestimated for a lack of “aggressiveness” or for once being seen as Red Bull’s “perfect teammate” or “pretty girl.” But now, at this moment, you were neither of those things. Now, you were his rival.

The sense of achievement was gratifying, but deep down you knew the victory had its price. Something in you had changed during that last overtake, in the way you had faced Max, in how, when you looked at him for the last time on track, something inside you had broken. That part of you that still wanted him, that still thought maybe things could have been different, was gone, or at least overshadowed by the fierce determination to win. The relationship you once shared was buried, replaced by pure competition, an unfiltered rivalry. But at the same time, you knew it wasn’t just the competition that drove you; it was something much more personal. Max had let you go. And now, you had left him behind, though not without a certain sadness.

On the other side, Max was in his motorhome, lights off, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the mirror. The race had ended, and although he had made an effort not to show his emotions to the journalists, something inside him was consuming him. He was used to winning, he had always been the leader, the reference. But this time, in Monaco, the result made him realize something he had been avoiding for a long time.

He had lost. And not just the race. He had lost the person who had mattered most in his life.

It was ironic because he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. He had been the first to fuel the rivalry, the first to not know how to handle his own feelings, the first to ignore the boundaries between the personal and the professional. But now, when he saw your victory trophy on his phone screen, when he saw the images of you celebrating with Lando, he felt something he had never felt before: regret.

Over the years, Max had gotten used to seeing life as a series of challenges and battles he had to win. The world was black or white, no shades of gray. But with you, everything had been different. He had been your mentor, your teammate, your rival, and at some point, more than that. He had been someone who, in a way, had been the only person capable of pushing him out of his comfort zone. The relationship you shared, although never fully admitted, had been unique. Max knew that when he was with you, he felt more human, more vulnerable. But competition, the need to be the best, had led him to distance himself from what really mattered.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. The feeling of being lost, of having destroyed something valuable, haunted him. He didn’t know how you had come to mean so much to him, or when the rivalry had stopped being just that and turned into something more complicated. But he knew it clearly: he had lost you. And the worst part was that, in his head, there were still unanswered questions. Could he have done things differently? Should he have spoken up earlier, when there was still time to explain? The answers to those questions tormented him, but what really hurt was what he didn’t know: if you felt the same way.

Weeks later, it was the Canadian Grand Prix. The combination of fast corners, technical sections, and the closeness of the walls, all contributed to the magic of that weekend. But this time, for some reason, it felt different. The tension in the air was palpable, and although Max and you hadn’t spoken for days, hadn’t exchanged more than a fleeting glance, something felt off. But you ignored it, focusing on the track, on what you did best.

The qualifying had been tough, but you had stayed in the top positions. The McLaren car had responded well, and you knew you could be fighting for a podium. Lando had qualified just behind you, both with the same motivation, knowing this race would be key for the team. However, in your mind, there was always that little thought that crept in: Max. The rivalry, that constant pressure to prove you could be better, the feeling that he was watching from a distance, waiting for you to make a mistake. And that haunted you.

The race began under the overcast sky of Montreal, with the excitement of the crowd contagious to the drivers. At first, everything seemed to be going well, although the temperatures were higher than expected, making tire control difficult. The first laps passed quickly, and you found yourself fighting wheel to wheel with Lando, in a clean and constant battle, looking for the best line to overtake some rivals. But on lap 32, everything changed.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. You reached turn 6 at a dizzying speed, trying to maintain your position, with the brakes slightly overheated. The car became unstable, and before you could react, the rear wheels lost traction. You tried to correct, but the car violently slid, and in an instant, you were crashing into the safety barriers. The sound of the crash was deafening, an explosion of metal, rubber, and carbon fiber. It was as if the world stopped for a moment, as if the air became heavy and dense.

The radio was filled with static, and the McLaren pit wall erupted into chaos. Engineers shouted orders, but everything was a distant echo. Your car had been destroyed in turn 6, one of the toughest corners of the circuit, and the impact left you unconscious for a moment. The medical staff and FIA officials arrived quickly at the scene, but in those seconds that felt like an eternity, the world felt distant and alien.

When you finally woke up, the sunlight blinded you, and the sound of fans, the buzzing of the medical teams, and the murmurs of people filtered into your head like a storm. The pain was unbearable, but the worst part was the confusion. What had happened? Why couldn’t you move your legs?

The voice of one of the doctors reached your ears, low and worried.

“Stay calm, don’t move, we’re here to help. You have a head injury, and probably a concussion. We need you to stay still until we evaluate you.”

Outside the circuit, the chaos was even greater. Journalists were already surrounding the area, television cameras focused on every detail of the accident, and the paddock was filled with people who could do nothing but watch in silence. The faces of your teammates reflected anguish. Lando, on the other side of the pit wall, had stopped focusing on his own race, and his fixed gaze on the screen showing your wrecked car said it all. He was desperate.

Max, who had seen everything from his car on the following lap, braked abruptly when the yellow flag appeared on his screen. It was as if the world had stopped for him too. Max’s face turned serious, his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he seemed to forget that, on track, he had to continue with the race. Somehow, he was searching for you on the screen, wanting to know if you were okay, if you had survived the crash. But the truth was that, in that moment, neither he nor anyone else knew what had happened.

The medical team worked quickly to stabilize you, and the doctors’ shouts became more urgent. There was worry on their faces, in the way they spoke to each other, but you could barely understand what they were saying. The noise in your head was deafening. What had happened? Why couldn’t you move? Was your body okay?

News of the crash spread quickly on social media. The media flooded the internet with photos of the wrecked car, images of the chaos at the circuit, and the medical staff surrounding you while they tried to keep you conscious. The race continued, but the world of Formula 1 had stopped for a moment. In the hospital, the first reports were arriving through television screens.

Journalists crowded around, asking everyone involved in the accident for the smallest bit of information. Cameras focused on your teammates, who were being approached by the press.

“How is she?,” they asked your mother, whose face was pale, marked by worry.

“She’s being evaluated,” she replied, her voice trembling, unable to hide the anxiety consuming her. “They’ve told us she has a concussion, but they’re doing more tests.”

At that moment, your name became a trending topic on Twitter, and reporters couldn’t stop talking about you, but all you wanted was for everything to stop, for the pain to go away, for the voices in your head to quiet.

Max didn’t know how to react. As he prepared for his last lap, he felt the weight of what had happened, the weight of having been so distant, so focused only on the victory, that he had forgotten what truly mattered. Throughout the entire race, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what might be happening at that very moment. The crash had been severe, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

In the following hours, the news became clear: the crash had left consequences. The concussion was just the beginning. The impact had been so strong that doctors couldn’t yet say whether the physical and psychological effects would be temporary or if you would be left with permanent damage. The fear was palpable, and as exams and tests progressed, it was clear that everything had changed. The accident, the pain, and the uncertainty were now an inevitable part of the story. Your career, your life, everything you had built up until now, was at stake.

428 notes · View notes

evie-sturns · 1 year ago

Text

𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙪𝙩𝙨 - 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: chris is by far the best boyfriend you could've asked for, he's sweet, caring and adores you, except for when it comes to hooking up.. he fucks you like he hates your guts.

warnings: smut, slight choking, rough chris, hair pulling, fluff, aftercare (lots of it), swearing.

---—-----------------≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫----------------------

♫..he loves me but he fucks me like he hates my guts...♫

3:37pm

chris and I have spent the past few hours together around the mall, and he hasn't let me pay for anything.

"oh my goodness chris look!" i exclaim, pointing towards Brandy Melville, he laughs softly as i drag him by his wrist towards the entrance.

"don't you go here every day?" he asks with a wide grin, "no..." i cheekily smile back.

i pick out a small pyjama set, holding it up to chris's eye level. "i think i should buy it" i say, digging through my purse for my card. he nods slowly, "hey gorgeous, i'll hold that for you okay?" chris takes the set off me, holding it with 2 fingers.

before i can process whats going on hes at the counter swiping his card. my eyebrows scrunch, "chris stop!" i say, trotting over to him.

"my treat" he says stupidly back, elbowing me lightly. he takes my hand, pulling us out of the store as he hands me the clothes.

"chris let me cash app you please i feel guilty." i say, looking up at him. "honestly it doesn't matter to me." he says back, squeezing my hand assuringly. "chris-" i say, but instantly getting cut off by him, "no, 'means nothing to me yeah?" he says.

"okay mr rich." i scoff back, he shakes his head with a smile, then sweeps me up off my feet and carries me to the car, i protest the whole time.

8:31pm

"here you are!" i smile, handing chris his phone before plopping down on the couch next to him. he gives me a warm smile as he stretches out on the couch, inviting me to lay ontop of him.

"what are we watching?" i ask, shifting slightly on his body, trying to get comfortable.

a small groan escapes his mouth, which he 'subtly' disguises with a cough, "chris?" i question again, my eyebrows scrunching. i roll over off of him, his forehead is decorated with small droplets of sweat, causing his baby hairs to stick to his face.

“you oka-“ i’m instantly cut off by his sudden movement where he sits up and grabs my waist.

“here’s what’s gonna happen yeah?” he starts, his eyes fixated on mine.

“you’re gonna strip and turn around for me, understand?”

i nod with a small hum.

standing up off the couch, i drop my shorts to my ankles, followed by my shirt and bra.

i turn around, following chris’s instructions.

“did i tell you to keep those on?” he says, staring at the thin piece of material covering my last bit of dignity.

“chris what’s going on-“

“no.” he interrupts me again.

i shimmy my panties down my thighs, soon they follow the rest of my clothes in a heaped pile on the floor.

“that’s right.” he says in a low voice. “on your knees.”

i fall down onto my knees, looking over my shoulder at chris.

he heaves himself up off the couch and walks over in front of me, his bulge inches away from my nose. i take a deep breath as he pulls down his sweatpants, leaving him in his boxers.

chris doesnt move.

i look up at him with doe eyes, "please.?" i ask softly.

"please what." chris instantly snaps back.

"you know.." i say, toying with the waistband of his boxers.

"i don't know actually." he teases.

"go on, what do you want to do?" chris says, his hand resting on the back of my hair and playing with it soothingly.

i sigh, my cheeks flush as i spit out the sentence "let me suck it"

he nods, thats enough of a signal i need before im practically tearing his boxers off him.

his length springs out, tapping his stomach lightly.

i instantly wrap 2 of my hands around his base, squeezing lightly, i feel 1 of chris’s hands grip the back of my head, his long fingers intertwined in my brunette locks.

i feel him guide me by my hair closer to his tip, willingly i start to kitten lick, earning a desperate groan from chris.

i wrap my lips around him, he takes it as an invitation to start fucking my face.

he slowly tilts his hips foward, encouraging inches of his length deeper into my mouth.

i feel his tip kiss the back of my throat, i squeeze my eyes shut as chris stops his movements, i hum around him

chris starts to thrust in and out of my mouth, his hands growing tighter in my hair as pleasured whimpers fall from his mouth.

i grip the back of the brown haired boys thighs with my hand, “fuck..” i hear him curse before abruptly pulling out of my mouth.

a soft cough exits my throat as i wipe my mouth, saliva somehow on my cheeks.

before i can process what’s going on chris has grabbed my hand firmly, he pulls me up off the floor and into his arms.

he carries us out of the living room into our bedroom, throwing me down onto the bed, his heavy pants fill the room as i lay still on my back, my thighs inching apart as the familiar heat rises through my core.

“you want it?” chris asks, his voice low and croaky.

“please..” i whisper, staring into his eyes.

without another word he’s fully inside of me, a loud squeal escapes my mouth as he grips my waist, slamming into me with passion.

chris isn’t small, quite the opposite actually, in the 6 months we’ve been dating we haven’t fucked that often, only a handful of times due to his schedule so it would be wrong for me to say i’m used to his size.

his hands grip the inside of my thighs, pushing them apart painfully wide.

“look at you hm? taking it all without being able to keep your mouth shut?” chris scoffs, his pace never daring to slow.

those two sentences around make me clench hard around him, “chris- fuck!” i scream, my hands gripping his back.

“don’t fucking come yet, i never said you could.” his voice is almost angry, i know he isn’t though but holy shit.

i can’t even stop it, the knot in my stomach snaps. chris’s eyes brows raise, his pupils staring into my squinted eyes. he continues to thrust into me desperately, i whine from the sensitivity

“no, you decided to come early so now your gonna have to be fucked while your sensitive.”

“chris..” i groan, my brain clouded with the post orgasm

my heart picks up as he places one hand on my throat, he’s never done this before.

he squeezes lightly, ever so slightly holding me down to the matress

after a few seconds he pulls out, almost instantly finishing on my stomach with a low moan.

chris instantly lets go of my waist and throat, he sits down on the bed next to me and pulls me into an embrace. he strokes my hair frantically.

“are you okay? y/n sweetheart.” he says his voice lightly panicked.

i let out a small laugh, i’m in a state of shock from how fast his mood switches but i can’t complain,

i have no reason to.

chris’s face lights up with an innocent smile as he paints my face in kisses.

he slowly stands up, carrying me to the bathroom. the brunette shuts the toilet lid, placing me down on-top of it as he rummages through the cabinets.

my legs shake from the intensity, which chris seems to pick up on.

“shit- i’m so sorry are you okay? was it too much?”

i shake my head “chris no, it was really fucking good..” i say, my voice breaking with a smile.

“are you okay though? did i hurt you at all?” chris says while pulling a small towel out of the drawer, wetting it with warm water.

“chris im okay i liked it.”

“but if you didn’t like it just tell me okay? i would never be upset.” he says, walking over to me and bending down between my legs.

i spread my legs on the cold seat, “can i clean you up gorgeous?” he asks, holding the warm damp flame in one hand.

“yeah- yes..” i say, wiping my face.

chris dabs lightly at my thighs and around my hole, “this okay?” he speaks like he’s talking to a child.

“oh shit what-“ chris says, his eyes drawn on my stomach which is painted in white streaks.

“that was me? jesus i was in a trance or some shit” chris says, shaking his head as he wipes it off.

“okay i’m gonna get us some clothes okay?” he says, standing up with a grunt. chris walks out of the bathroom and comes back several minutes later fully dressed and holding a pile of neatly folded fresh love.

“you need help getting up?” he smiles, a sorry expression on his face. i stick my hand up which he grabs, gently lifting me up onto my feet.

“okay just try out your arms up for me” chris says with a concentrated look on his face.

he slides the sweater over my body, followed by the matching sweatpants.

he lets out a small sigh “feeling good?” he asks, picking me up again.

“thank you chris.” i say burying my face in the crook of his neck, his long hair brushing against my face.

“comfy?” he says, placing me down on the sheets that are now crumpled from my deadly grip on them 15 minutes ago.

he lays down next to me, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me close to him.

“i’m sorry about the choking thing-“ he starts, but i cut him off.

“stop apologising chris, these past 30 minutes have been the hottest moments of your whole life, and i’d gladly do it again in an hour.”

---—-----------------≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫----------------------

@leah-loves-lilies @braindead4l @suyqa @chrisstopherfilmed

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo imagine

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bettystonewell · 26 days ago

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COUPLE THINGS #1

Putting You x Dean Winchester through everyday relationship stuff - 700 words

“What’s for dinner?”

Dean throws Baby’s keys on the table in the corner with a jingle and lumps his bag along with them. It’s been a long day, an even longer drive if you count the distance between the bunker and your current location, however many states away.

Honestly, you lost count, and are just grateful to lie in a bed, even if you are slumming it compared to Dean’s memory foam.

You fall back onto the squeaky queen; the blankets scratch at your exposed skin while he slumps into the chair across from you, next to his bag and the discarded keys.

He toes off his boots, revealing a hole in his right sock that, come to think of it, wasn’t there this morning. He wiggles it. He frowns.

“You need a new pair,” you say, and Dean huffs.

“I need food.”

“Well, what do you wanna eat?” You roll your eyes. You’ve had this conversation twice, and you know the answer is going to be the same.

“I dunno,” you mouth, just as he says it out loud with his deeper grumble. The guy is cranky, hangry, refutable, and it’s only going to get worse with each passing of the minute hand on the clock. He needs food stat, and not even a double bacon cheeseburger is going to cut it.

He leans forward and pulls his gun out. Places it on the table and reaches for the same bag he dumped seconds ago, now slugging it off the table.

What was the point?

“There was Chinese down the road? I could—”

“You ain’t driving.”

You puff the air out your nose. “Pizza? We can get it delivered.”

“Had it last night.”

Well, yeah, but he’s not giving you much to go on, and you lay your arm across your brow and stare into the light overhead. You were getting a headache. What’s more of one?

“Isn’t the job of being difficult supposed to fall on me?” you pout, and you hear the chair creak.

A, “What?” comes next.

“In the movies, it’s always the chick who makes things harder. Now you’re being the—”

“Son of a bitch!”

You were going to say a whiny one, but, “What?” you repeat and sit up to face him.

Dean is standing. A new frown covers the old one. It spreads the stubble of his cheeks closer to his ears and shoots a prominent line through the middle of his nose as his brows knit together. “I left the—”

But you don’t hear the rest. His back turns and he’s heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” you say, except you don’t care. You slump your aches and pangs of a day’s drive back into the scratchiness, leaving the man to his grumbles. Maybe if you get undressed before he comes back, you can distract him with the magic fingers, and a taste of you?

Who’re you kidding? You’re too sleepy for sex and he’s too far gone to play fair.

Maybe there’s booze in the mini bar? That’ll have to do. Only you’re now too comfortable to move, and when he returns, he’s falling down next to you. Makes the whole ensemble shake.

Your elbow collides with his ribs, just a quick jab, nothing more. It won’t hurt a strong and burly hunter like him. Of course, he didn’t get the memo.

His denim clad leg drops over yours, like a freight train derailing off its tracks. An arm scoops round your waist.

“Where’d you go?” you say, and that frown turns upside down. Replaced by a grin, tugging at his face.

“I left the lights on.”

“On the car?”

“Mm-hmm.” He hums into your shoulder, and though his chin now scratches your skin worse, warmth spreads to your stomach and between your legs. To your cheeks, to your fingertips, to your toes.

So you roll. His cheek hits the pillow, and your palm and knuckles hit yours. Your eyes find his green ones, twinkling under the light. “Thought you were hungry?” you say as your fingers trail his shirt. They pull and twist at the fabric, feeling for the edge of his buckle.

“Still am. Just like the way you think.”

A/N: I thought it would be fun to just write reader and Dean doing some everyday mundane stuff. It was exactly 500 words and then I needed to add a little more to end it and my goal became also trying to keep it neat.

I plan to do more, so if you have a scenario you’d like to see (Sam or Dean), please reach out - Beth ❤️

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2 @winchesterwild78 @missywinchester15 @deansbbyx @kr804573

@lyarr24 @salemslostwitch @mostlymarvelgirl @ladysparkles78 @multiversefanfics

@31miw-inkpsycho @yoursrosie @Theantisoci-alone @roseamie13 @krazykelly

@my-stories-vault @amberlthomas @levine-23 @ultimatecin73 @district447

@hobby27 @aylacavebear @middleearthislife

If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #couple things #supernatural x reader

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ba9go · 8 months ago

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being miya atsumu’s no. 1 cheerleader

miya atsumu does not need a fanclub when he has you.

miya atsumu x fem!reader; pre-game shenanigans means holding atsumu’s hand when he has to lock in and also flirting with him to rile him up on the bus ride!

both my exes are volleyball players and let me tell u these volleyball men walk around carrying such huge egos but at the end of the day, they still fall at ur feet when u say the simplest things to them… so cute lol i wanna step on them

the miya atsumu fanclub is notorious for being loud and utterly obsessed with the inarizaki setter.

it was a little funny at first, hearing their poorly-concealed squeals whenever he stepped onto the court. but damn, did it get annoying real quick.

on the bus ride, atsumu seems calm. he’s holding your hand, and he has his earphones in, even though you know he’s not actually listening to anything. he’s so uncharacteristically quiet during the 30-minute drive to the stadium, it’s almost scary, but you know it’s because there’s only one thing in his mind right now.

winning.

atsumu sits facing towards the window, but you know he isn’t looking at the blur of scenery and cars driving past. no, atsumu is focused right now. he’s in his head, thinking about the game, from the very moment he steps onto the court to when he’s finally leaving the stadium with yet another win.

the bus pulls into the parking lot and already, there’s a horde of fangirls crowding outside the stadium entrance, ready to ask for signatures and selfies.

atsumu finally tears his gaze from the window with a harsh click of his tongue, and you can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“i hate mosquito season,” atsumu says through gritted teeth, crossing his arms like a petulant child, and you know he’s not talking about insects. “i can’t stand em, seriously! these pests.”

"don’t be like that,” you scold lightly, patting his thigh twice. “be nice to your supporters.”

“but they’re so annoyin’! even as supporters, it’s like they’re cheerin’ jus’ to throw me off ma game!” atsumu pouts, and there it is, your chance to butter him up and really rile him up for the game.

“nothing can throw you off your game, ‘tsumu,” you say sweetly, reaching up to cup his face in one hand. atsumu leans into your touch immediately. “you’re better than that.”

“yer right,” atsumu smirks, placing his hand over yours to guide it to the back of his neck for you to comb your fingers through his hair. “‘sides, s’hard to pay them any attention when yer here, doll.”

“yeah? you like it when i watch you play, ‘tsumu?” you tug a little at atsumu’s hair, just the way he likes it, and it has him leaning forward until his head is resting on your shoulder and his face is pressed into your shirt.

“i love it. yer my lucky charm, babe. my darlin’ cheerleader. don’t need any of those pigs squealin’ f’me when i got my pretty girl ta support me.”

“i can never take my eyes off you, atsumu,” you murmur softly, and you mean it. atsumu always looks so good on court, doing what he loves most. he carries his passion for volleyball everywhere with him, but the court is where it truly shines through, where his hard work finally pays off.

atsumu’s a proud guy, with an ego bigger than most, and yet he melts at your words and keens at your touch.

“ya mean it?” atsumu tilts his head to the side to look at you, and you grin.

“you don’t believe me?” you ask, and atsumu grins and shrugs. “hmm, how about this. i’ll help coach take down team stats* today. i’ll give you a kiss for every service ace today.”

"god, yer the best. yer comin’ ta all my games from now on.”

“you’ll lose your fangirls, y’know,” you say, half-jokingly.

“don’t need em,” atsumu says, completely serious. he grins wildly at you. “yer all i need.”

atsumu had no shame breaking the hearts of his fangirls walking into the stadium with your hand in his, but the cherry on top was definitely the way he pointed at you before every serve. (he got 16 service aces that match.)

i miss volleyball… i miss competition szn… siiiiiigh

*team stats r like a lil sheet of paper for the coach to take down n keep track of every player’s performance in a match. points scored, mistakes, for spiking, receiving, setting, blocking, all that stuff. my ex used to come to my games and help me take down stats for me (and my whole team) so we could review my games tgt

#haikyuu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #hq atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 months ago

Text

Love Heals Everything

Hi guys!

I feel like I haven't post for ages, and it's probably not only an impression. I had several things to deal with and I don't know how many of you are still here but... Here's my new story. It's coming from the Serie of Lia and the Firefighter.

Please enjoy ♥

You can find the other story of the serie here :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Your leg nervously bounces up and down while watching your girlfriend evolving on the pitch. You feel the same proudness as every time, Lia is beyond amazing. She plays with everything she’s got, but you can’t help but feel nervous.

“Stop this, you make me nervous!”

You glance at Katie who hit you on your leg. The Irish girl is sitting next to you in the stand, keeping you company without her consent, her red card preventing her from going on the bench with her teammates.

You sigh and take a big breath, trying to steady yourself. You can’t help but be stupidly and excessively concerned about Lia. Katie knows this since she met you, just like everyone else finally. You always have been overprotective with your girlfriend since you met her.

You open the door of her car, the door of almost every room she wants to get in, you cook for her and put everyday healthy snacks in her bag in case she’s hungry between meals. When you are coming home later than her or working during the night, you leave her notes in your house for her to find and prepare her meal for the night, so she just has to put it in the microwave and enjoy her evening.

You act like her personal bodyguard when you are in a crowd, not wanting anyone to even put their finger on her. When she asked you if you wanted to be involved in any way in the preparations of the Euros with her you said yes, to have more time with her but to have a look about people surrounding her too.

In your mind, every single person can take her away from you.

Lia is clever, fun, kind, attentive, mindful, skilled and amazingly beautiful.

What you weren’t expecting, though, it’s that you almost lost her because of something you can’t control.

The first time you felt that weird spot on her body, you just asked her if she hurt herself during training. Lia just shrugged and told you she doesn’t know; it happens to everyone to have bruises without knowing where they come from.

But then that thing grew, and you forced Lia to talk about it to Arsenal’s team. You were beyond nervous when they sent her to take exams in London’s hospital. But then Lia asked to go to Switzerland to be treated and of course you followed her.

You love Switzerland, the peace and quiet of this country and their beautiful landscapes, but you must admit that you were everything but peaceful. You were a wreck of stress, unable to sleep even with Lia peacefully asleep in your arms. You took the habits to have her sleeping on you and when she isn’t, you put your head on her chest.

Just to be able to hear her heart beating.

You don’t understand a lot of German, only the sentences Lia told you and some basics, but it hasn’t helped at all during Lia’s stay in the hospital. Thanks God, Lia’s sister was here too, translating things when Lia was too concentrated with her medical team to do it.

Finally, you had the answer you were looking for. Unlike what was feared, it wasn’t a tumour, “only” an abscess. She still needed surgery for it, but at least she wasn’t in mortal danger.

Well, of course the operation could have gone wrong. You waited for five hours in Lia’s room, not wanting to leave for a single second, too scared to miss Lia’s return.

The nurses seem to take pity on you, bringing you tea and a food tray at some point of the day. You couldn’t eat anything, which might be a first in your life. Only when Lia came back in her room, still half asleep, did you feel like you were able to breathe again correctly.

You stayed with Lia the three nights of her stay in hospital, sleeping in a chair at first and then on a camp bed given by the nurses once again. When Lia is finally able to leave the hospital, you brought them a big chocolate box.

Lia wasn’t authorized to take the plane for several days after, so you stayed with her at her parents’ house. You distract yourself by taking care of your girlfriend (of course), but by helping your in-laws with cooking or even going grocery shopping. Lia took advantage of it to buy some things to take with you when you will go back to London.

Your girlfriend seems to get better very quickly, for general relief. She received a lot of calls from her teammates during her recovery and Leah and her girlfriend offered to come take you at the airport.

After that, Lia had a recovery at home at first, before starting to train with her teammates again.

Even at that time, you took her to every appointment needed, switching your shift with your co-workers. And, thanks to your knowledge with all that medical stuff, you took every morning and every night her pressure, just to be sure that everything is alright.

You insisted that she take another blood test, just to be sure once again. Everything was alright, every time.

But you can’t make the fear of losing her go away.

It’s still here, sometimes waking you up in the middle of the night. It’s a thing to fear losing her because she might fall out of love with you, but it’s something else to lose her if death comes meddle in the middle of your life.

Today is the first time Lia is playing again, and you are more nervous than if she was climbing the Himalaya alone. Your leg isn’t moving anymore but you will probably die of a heart attack soon.

Lia seems happy to be back on the pitch, running quickly to find her spot on the pitch. But you wince every time someone comes closer to her, jumping on your feet when she finds herself on the ground after a challenge from a player of the other team.

“For fuck’s sake sit down” Katie groans, grabbing you by your sleeve. “She’s fine, look. Running like a goat”

You groan and sit down again, looking at the clock. It’s only the 63 minutes. The next half-hour will be a long one.

********

After the game, you are waiting for your girlfriend in the VIP lodge with the other families. Leah’s mother tried to talk to you, but you can’t really repeat what you talked about. You were only concentrating on the door, waiting for Lia to pass it.

Katie never left your side though, talking for you to Leah’s mom and explaining discreetly why you were so strange. Katie puts a glass of champagne in your hands to help you relax.

It doesn’t really work to be honest. You were sitting on a stool, your leg jumping on and on. Katie gave up making you stop it, scrolling on her phone but staying loyally next to you.

She almost falls off her stool when you jump on your feet, Lia finally appearing by the door with Steph and Beth. In three big steps, you are in front of her, feeling a big relief when she passes her arms around you to hug you.

“How are you?” you ask, your face in her hair.

“I’m fine” you can hear the smile in her voice “Did you enjoy the game?”

You hum absently, looking attentively at her to see if you can see any discomfort or anything that should worry you. She’s wearing her Arsenal suit obviously so you can’t really look at all the parts of her body, but you will do it later at home.

“Next time give her a tranquilizer Wally. I never seen someone so nervous in my life”

You roll your eyes at Katie’s comment, passing next to you after she spots her own girlfriend. Lia gives you a curious look and you just shrug, passing an arm around her waist. Feeling her against you gives you peace and your heart might need some peace right now.

You are saved from Lia’s questions by Amanda coming to show you her daughter, Lia cooing lovingly in front of that baby. Who is cute, you have to admit. You smile and talk to her when she’s in Lia’s arms, picking her ribs to make her laugh. The giggle of the baby and Amanda talking about her progress help you to think about something else for a little bit. Which you appreciate.

At some point the baby goes back into her mother's arms and you take Lia in yours, hugging her from behind while she’s talking with some of her teammates.

“Do you mind if we go home?” Lia whispers to you at some point, tilting her head to have a look at you.

“Of course not. Are you tired?”

“A little bit” your girlfriend admits, and you don’t need more.

You grab her things with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with another and take her to the parking lot. You kind have forgotten that there will be some fans asking for a signature there. Lia, like the sweet cutie pie she is, takes the time she needs to sign all the jerseys and pictures presented to her. You let her do it for several minutes, taking time to put her bag in the car before going back next to her for a moment, before finally stepping in.

“Cookie, it’s cold and your hair isn't dry… Maybe it’s time to go before getting sick?” you say softly, putting your hand on her back.

Lia turns to you and nod softly, excusing herself to the girls she was talking to. You kind of feel bad for her fans, but everyone got their picture or signatures, and you have to take care of Lia anyway. And you know they won’t hold it against you, since several months now your relationship has appeared on the social media and fans only gush over how protective and caring you are with your girlfriend.

You drive both of you to your house, proposing to Lia different dishes you can cook for her tonight.

“What about we just order in? You deserve to take a break too, Baby” Lia proposes softly.

“But we have to be sure that you have all the good nutrients needed for you to recover! The nurses said you need vitam… –“

“Y/N”

You look at your girlfriend with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting about the red light in front of you. Lia never calls you by your name, or only when you did something that you shouldn’t. Your surprise must be funny, because Lia can’t hide the smile creeping on her face.

“I am healed. My scar has healed well too, thanks to your care. Stop worrying like this, you’re going to develop an ulcer”

You roll your eyes and start your car again, driving for the last hundred meters until you are home. Lia’s hand found her way to yours during this time, silence coming inside the car again, only broken when Lia hums the song coming from the radio.

At home, you make Lia sit on the couch and start the laundry before going back to her to choose what to eat. She finally makes her choice for Nando’s and you let Lia choose what you will eat, just happy to be able to have some cuddle with her.

The end of the day between you was great, to be honest. You ate well, watched something you both liked and had a lot of cuddles and laughs together. You then went to bed and after some sweet words and more cuddles, you fell asleep easily.

But now, you are suddenly awake from your sleep, your heart pounding, your hands shaking and some sweat rolling on your neck.

You just have to turn your head to see that Lia is peacefully asleep, lying across the bed. Her breast goes up and down slowly every time she’s breathing and she’s alright. Not like in the dream you just had.

It’s not the first nightmare you have since Lia’s surgery, but you can’t get used to it. You carefully remove Lia’s legs on yours to sit on the border of the bed, pressing the palms of your hands against your eyes.

You try to concentrate yourself on the strange patterns coming from this gesture, but the pictures of your nightmare are too strong, and you aren’t able to fight against them. But you don’t want to wake Lia, so you stand up and silently go out of your bedroom. You don’t know what you could do, honestly. You feel tense, the only thing helping you when you are like this is a hot shower. But once again, you don’t want to wake your girlfriend up.

So you end up in front of the TV, munching blankly some of Lia’s favourite crisps. Your plan is to wait a decent hour to start breakfast and surprise your girlfriend in bed. But you have several hours to wait.

You are surprised in your plans though, a sleepy Lia appearing in the living room before the sun starts to rise.

“What are you doing?” she asks with a raspy voice.

You weren’t expecting your girlfriend to wake up. You jump out of your skin, making some crisps flying from your lap. While you stand, you can see Lia’s eyes going from the crisps, to you, to the wildlife reporting on TV and then to you again.

“I’ll buy you another” you mumble, kneeling to collect the crisps on the ground.

“Since when are you interested in pink flamingos?” Lia asks you, looking at the screen.

You frown and look above your shoulder to see the screen. You weren’t at all looking at it, lost in your thoughts once again. You shrug before standing up.

“Television programs are not particularly interesting at this time”

You cross Lia’s gaze, looking at each other for several seconds. You wonder what she’s thinking about, but you don’t have time to ask. She reaches for you, and you don’t hesitate to take her hand in yours.

“Come back to bed?”

You nod and Lia’s squeak can tell you that she wasn’t expecting you to put your hands around her waist and lift her off the floor and carry her up to your room. She giggles when you put her down on the bed, covering her before you lay down on her completely.

You know you won’t be able to fall asleep again, but you plan to give Lia some more sleep.

Her heart beating against your ear is comforting, just like the strokes in your hair. Like this, you feel good. You could almost fall asleep again to be fair, but you want to be sure that Lia is asleep before you. She’s the one needing recovery, not you.

But when you look up, Lia’s eyes aren’t closed. In fact, she was looking at you.

“What?” you raise an eyebrow.

Lia's green gaze is intense, and you have trouble continuing to look at her. You know what she’s doing, she’s trying to read or find something in your eyes.

“Stop that” you groan, hiding your face in her neck.

She lets you do it, but you know before she starts talking again that you won’t escape her like this.

“Would you tell me if something wasn’t right?” Lia finally asks you.

Her voice is soft, but she doesn’t really give you the choice to answer. You never talked to her about your nightmares or even how terrified you are at the simple idea of something happening to her. It goes way beyond what you ever felt before seeing her in that Swiss hospital. It was very different from the surgery for her knee.

So, you just hum softly for any answer. You don’t want to worry her.

“That is not an acceptable answer”

You know it. But you stay silent.

“Y/N” she tries again.

You don’t move at first, only squirming when she starts to poke at your ribs.

“Babe, stop” you whine “I’m comfy”

“Answer, and you will be able to enjoy this for as long as you want”

You sigh softly, knowing perfectly that you won’t have the last word here. Lia is the sweetest but she’s very stubborn too. An iron hand in a velvet glove.

“I don’t know how to explain it” you admit softly, sitting on the bed.

And you don’t know if it’s a good thing to explain the way you are thinking to Lia. You never hide anything from her and maybe your anxiety is harder to deal with because of that.

“I know you. I can see that something is bothering you, but if you don’t talk to me about it I can’t help you Pookie” Lia says softly.

“That is the point” you sigh again “You just had all those surgeries and medical stuff. You shouldn’t be the one helping, all you are supposed to do is recover and take care of yourself.”

“Actually, you are taking such good care of me that I don’t need to do anything” she smiles.

You could die for that smile, even if you are biting your bottom lips right now, not really sure about what she just said. She seems lost by your reaction, and you hate seeing her so destabilized. So, you take a big breath before answering. You don’t know what you will say but you know that you need to say something.

“I’m just scared” you finally say.

“I need more context”

Lia’s voice is patient, but you find yourself playing with a piece of the bed sheet covering your girlfriend. You turn the sentences in your head several times before actually talking again.

“I always tried my best to take care of you and protect you as much as possible. I can do it if someone annoys you, I can take care of you if you are tired or I can even take you out of a Café on fire. I can look for you if you are injured or uncomfortable, or tired after a training session, but… This time it wasn’t something I can protect you against. And that scared the shit out of me.”

Your eyes were focused on the bed while you were talking, but after some seconds of silence you hesitantly raise your gaze on your girlfriend. Lia is looking at you, of course she is, with so much softness that you feel your heart beating faster, for something good this time. Nothing to compare how you felt during her game. And definitely nothing to compare with how you felt during her journey in hospital.

“You won’t like to hear that, but you can’t protect me against everything in the world, Pookie”

Lia smiles when you pout, but cups softly your cheek with her hand.

“But you were there every second of it and I couldn’t ask for more than this. You were perfect. You always have been with me, since the beginning”

“I just don’t want to lose you” you whisper.

“You won’t. And you need to stop worrying like this for me. I’m fine, you know it. You came with me at all my appointments. You are going to make you sick.”

You bite your bottom lip, a little ashamed to have been caught. It was maybe a little stupid of you to hope that she won’t see anything. And you are pretty sure that it was way before Katie made that comment at the end of the game.

“Okay” you sigh “But you have to swear to talk to me if anything is happening to you”

“I swear I will” she answers easily, taking you again in her arms.

You let it happen, lying down again against your girlfriend. Once again you put your ear on her heart, passing your arm around her waist. The warmth of her body and the cover is great, and you finally can relax. Talking about it to Lia makes you feel lighter than you expected. You even feel your eyes becoming heavy.

You take a look at Lia to be sure that she will fall asleep again, before closing your eyes.

“I love you” you whisper, burying your face in her shirt.

“I love you too” she whispers back.

Two minutes later, you wear out of the world, sleeping peacefully for the first time since Lia’s health difficulty. And you have to admit that it felt good.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #lia walti imagine #lia wälti x reader #lia walti x reader #lia walti #lia wälti #lia wälti imagine #lia and the firefighter

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itoshiabi · 2 months ago

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How I think your first date would be with blue lock boys

Pt.2- Reo, Rin, Shidou, Hiori, Kaiser

Pt-1- Here

Reo Mikage

Reo is a hopeless romantic, so your first date would feel straight out of a fairy tale. He wouldn’t settle for something ordinary—no casual coffee dates or boring dinners. He wants to sweep you off your feet and make sure you never forget this night. He will pick you up in a luxury car, dressed in an effortlessly stylish outfit that will make him look like he walked out of a magazine. The destination? A private beachside dinner or a rooftop restaurant with a breathtaking city view—because to him, you deserve nothing but the best.

The entire night, he will be charming without even trying. He will listen attentively when you talk, remember even the smallest details, and will smile whenever you get excited about something. He’s confident but not arrogant, flirting in a way that feels natural and sweet rather than overwhelming. “You know, I could get used to this—staring at you under the city lights.” At some point, he’d take your hand casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. By the time the night ends, he will be reluctant to let you go. He will drive and and then will walk you to your door, taking his time, standing just a little too close. His violet eyes will flicker between your lips and your eyes, as if debating something. Finally, he will exhale a small laugh. “I wanna kiss you, but I also wanna take my time with you… So I’ll wait." He will lean in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead instead, before stepping back with a smirk.“Sweet dreams, princess. Next time, I’m making it even harder for you to resist me.”

Itoshi Rin

Rin isn’t the type to go for flashy or extravagant dates. He doesn’t care about impressing you with wealth or grand gestures—if he likes you, he just wants to spend time with you, no distractions. That’s why your first date would be something simple but deeply personal. He’d take you somewhere quiet, like a secluded café, a late-night walk by the river, or even a private training session where he lets you watch him play. Rin doesn’t say much, but his actions speak louder than words. He’d hold the door open for you without thinking, subtly adjust his pace to match yours, and steal quick glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

Despite his usual cold demeanor, there would be small, unexpectedly soft moments. If you reach for your drink and almost knock it over, his reflexes will kick in, and he will catche it without hesitation. Instead of letting go immediately, he will keep his hand over yours for just a second too long. If you point it out, he’ll clear his throat and pull back, mumbling, “…Don’t overthink it.” And when the date comes to an end, he won’t say much, but he’ll walk you home without being asked. As you reach your door, there’s a moment of silence. Rin will look at you, his usual sharp gaze a little softer under the streetlights. Finally, will he exhale and mutter, “Tonight wasn’t bad. We should do it again.” And just as you start to say goodbye, he will add, almost as an afterthought, "Text me when you get inside.” It’s a small request, but in Rin’s language, it means he cares.

Shidou Ryusei

Dating Shidou Ryusei is like stepping into a storm of adrenaline and unpredictability. He’s not the type to sit through a quiet dinner or go on a cliché romantic walk. No, he wants excitement. He wants a date that makes your heart race—literally. So, for your first date? He’ll taking you somewhere wild. Maybe an arcade where he challenges you to every game possible, a go-kart race where he drives like a maniac, or even a night out at a rooftop bar where he can tease you relentlessly. No matter where you go, one thing is guaranteed: he will flirt shamelessly.

From the moment he will pick you up, he’s already all over you—an arm slung over your shoulders, leaning in close just to watch you squirm. “Damn, you look good enough to eat. Mind if I take a bite?” Despite all the teasing and chaos, there are moments where you will catch him watching you intensely, like he’s memorizing your every move. When you ask what he’s thinking, he will just grin and say, “Nothing. Just wondering how I got lucky enough to find someone this fun.” By the end of the night, he will walk you home—but he’s not the type to just leave without making things interesting. He will trap you against the door, locking his eyes with yours, “One last bet before I go. If you don’t push me away in the next five seconds, I’m taking my prize.” If you won’t move, he’ll smirk victoriously before leaning in and pressing a wild, teasing kiss on your lips. When he will finally pull back, he will chuckle, “Tch, knew you wouldn’t resist me. Sweet dreams, babe.” And with that, he’s gone—leaving you with a pounding heart and the lingering taste of his kiss.

Hiori Yo

Hiori isn’t the type to rush into things. He’s careful, thoughtful, and genuinely wants to make you happy—so your first date would be something cozy and meaningful. He’s not interested in flashy or extravagant plans, instead, he wants to spend time with you in a way that feels comfortable and real. So he will invite you to a quiet bookstore café, a stroll through a peaceful park, or even a cozy night in playing video games together. If you mention something you like—a favorite book, a song, a snack—you’ll later find out he remembers every little detail. Maybe he will subtly order your favorite drink before you even ask, or maybe he will casually hum the song you said you loved. When you point it out, he’ll blush lightly and say, “I just thought it’d make you happy.”

Hiori isn’t naturally bold, but if you ever feel nervous or shy, he’ll instinctively reassure you. If you hesitate to take his hand, he’ll softly smile and say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to rush, but… I’d really like to hold your hand.” And when you do? His grip will be gentle but firm, like he never wants to let go. At the end of the night, he’ll walk you home, his steps slow—like he doesn’t want this date to end. When you will reach your door, he will hesitate for a moment before finally saying, “…Tonight was really nice. I hope we can do this again.” Then, with the softest, sweetest smile he will add, “Text me when you’re inside, okay? I just… want to know you’re safe.” And with that, he will leave—but not before looking over his shoulder one last time, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s already counting down the days until your next date.

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser doesn’t do anything half-heartedly—and that includes dating. If he’s taking you out, it’s going to be extravagant, unforgettable, and perfectly orchestrated. He thrives on attention, so your first date would feel like something straight out of a movie. He will you up in a sleek sports car, looking effortlessly gorgeous, his signature smirk in place as he will casually compliment you, “I knew you’d look good, but damn… I might have to keep you all to myself.” The destination? A rooftop dinner at an exclusive restaurant or maybe even a private helicopter ride over the city. He wants to spoil you, to see your eyes widen at the luxury he can offer.

But despite his love for grand gestures, he’s watching you closely. Are you actually enjoying this? Do you prefer something simpler? If he sees that you’re more comfortable in a quieter setting, he’ll take a detour—maybe a late-night walk by the water or a drive with no destination while flirting with you endlessly. Kaiser’s flirting is relentless—smooth, confident, and always pushing your limits. He will lean in close, letting his lips brush against your ear as he will murmur, “You keep looking at me like that… Should I take it as a sign?” But underneath the teasing, there are moments where his charm softens—where he looks at you not as a showman, but as a man who’s truly intrigued.

By the end of the night, he will walk you to your door, leaning lazily against the frame as if he owns the place. He will tilt your chin up with a smirk, eyes searching yours. “I could kiss you right now, you know. But I think I’ll make you wait a little longer… anticipation makes it sweeter.” And just before he turns to leave, he pauses, his voice dropping to something more genuine. “Text me when you’re inside. Can’t have someone else stealing you away before I do.” Then, with a wink and a confident stride, he disappears into the night—leaving you breathless and completely hooked.

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decentwritings · 7 months ago

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Chapter 1

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

next part

The game you were playing was beginning to bore you. The music wasn't even all that and your butt feels sore after sitting on these steps for the last three hours. A couple of drunk teenagers stumble by you again and you can't help but scoff in annoyance.

The extra battery pack you brought was dead and you had about seventeen percent left on your phone. You knew the idea of bringing a backpack was smart, but what was stupid was not bringing an extra charger.

You're stuck here as designated driver for your roommate and her friends. You got the short end of the stick because Anika claims she wants you to get along with her girlfriend. Something about her girlfriend having trust issues with people she doesn't know.

You can't even recall her name.

Miranda? Martha? Melinda?

It starts with an M.

Also, she kicked your ass in ten games of rock-paper-scissors.

The last hour there have been people coming out, not coming in anymore. The costumes were sad this year, and that's coming from someone who doesn't even celebrate. You think you saw one of Anika's friends as a slutty pirate? Maybe it was just a regular pirate; either way, it was lacking creativity.

She is pretty, though.

“Hey!”

You pick your head up, eyebrows connecting at the random outburst. You look around, suddenly aware no one else is sober enough or free to pay attention. So this woman must be calling you out.

And stupidly, you point at yourself and ask, “Me?”

The woman stalks over, and you stand, ready to fight to defend yourself. You lift your fists up but then they fall to your side at the taser in her hand.

“Where's my sister?” She asks, the taser sparks and you can't seem to find an escape with the house pressing against your back.

“I...I don't know,” you stutter, eyes on the taser and watching it move as she speaks.

“Let me through.”

You jump over the ledge and fall into the bushes, allowing the woman entrance to the home. You fall with a thud and groan, spitting leaves out of your mouth in the process. When you stand, the couple making out by the bushes stare at you with a mix of concern and irritation.

“Joker, Black Widow,” you say, stumbling out of the bush with a grunt. “Nice crossover. As you were,” you brush the remaining leaves off your clothes.

You attempt to enter the home, to warn Anika and her friends of some lunatic with a taser. But that same lunatic comes out with Anika and her friends in tow.

Anika tugs you along with her as they stalk out of the property. You groan at the pull, the grip she has on you is causing a pinching pain.

“My car!” you shout, glancing back at your parked car in the distance.

“We'll get it later,” Anika mutters, releasing you a second later.

The lunatic, who you learned is named Sam, shouts after the sister she was looking for, Tara. You follow behind with your shoulders slumped, solemn at the thought of your car parked in a street you don't know.

You're unaware of the group stopping to watch the sisters argue and you continue sulking past them. Hands tucked in your pockets, you kick a rock gently, turning and stopping in your tracks.

You regret ever allowing Anika to convince you to be designated driver. You're going to ask for a change of roommate when you get back.

But it goes to the back of your mind when you overhear someone behind you say, “is that the murderer?”

You raise a brow and look at the voice, tilting your head when you lock eyes with the stranger. And the stranger is throwing something at Sam before you can even comprehend her words.

“Murderer!”

The liquid hits Sam dead on, angering the older woman and unleashing the built up anger she most likely held back during the argument with her sister. Chad has to grab ahold of Sam then Tara to avoid a bigger fight from occurring.

Something in you shouts to get away from these people. It's a loud voice that you know belongs to your parents, who always told you to stay away from the wrong crowd. And maybe, this is what they meant by wrong crowd.

You stay back as they all walk away, just a few feet away from a sad, soaked and tired Sam. You exhale a breath, waiting for Ethan to walk away from his awkward interaction with the older woman. You take off your backpack and unzip it to grab the towel you packed.

While your parents raised you to run from danger, they also taught you manners. You step up to Sam cautiously, extending the towel towards her slowly.

Sam looks between you and the towel. It takes her a minute to decide if she can trust you, or maybe trust the towel. You aren't sure, but you reassure her. "It's better than whatever was on the napkins Ethan gave you," you shrug.

Sam takes the towel, or rather snatches it. She doesn't say anything, and you take that as her silently telling you to leave her alone. You turn and walk the other direction, away from the group. For once, you're listening to your parents' advice.

You decide it's a good night to be away from your roommate. So you head to your cousin's place, knowing his place was just a few blocks away. That way, you could wake up and pick up your car on your way back to your dorm.

You text your cousin to warn him of your presence at his apartment, to avoid interrupting any activities occurring. He texts back informing you he was on his way there, too, to wait for him by the door.

You hear a chuckle to your left a few minutes after arriving to his apartment building. As he gets closer, he points to the name tag on your shirt.

“Dennis?” He asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

You shrug. “The party I was at wouldn't let me stay if I didn't have a costume,” you wait patiently for him to unlock the door.

You follow him in, listening to him as he speaks. “And they allowed the fake name tag as a costume?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

You pause at the entrance, freezing when you see Sam at the bottom of the stairwell. You face your cousin with wide eyes. “I'm being followed,” you whisper, eyes filled with panic.

He looks behind you and locks eyes with Sam. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Head on up, I'll meet you there,” he tells you, handing you his keys.

You pause and stare at him like he's crazy, but don't question it, snatching the keys from his hands. You practically sprint past Sam, but pause at the first step to tell your cousin, “she's got a taser, Danny.” you warn him.

Sam glances back at you with narrowed eyes. You scurry off without another word.

You aren't sure how long you wait for your cousin, hoping he's still alive. All you know is, when he does return, you run up to him and immediately ask questions.

“How do you know taser girl?” You ask first, unaware of his worried state. You follow him into his kitchen, questions still flying out of your mouth. “How long have you known taser girl? Did she always live in this building? Why are people calling her a murderer? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?” You ask when you finally notice his state.

Danny leans against the counter. “She's leaving,” he mumbles, as if he is just now realizing this.

You raise a brow. “What?”

Danny looks at you, and he thinks about all the possible outcomes of telling you the truth. Sam may have passed over a little of her skepticism to him. He's found himself questioning everyone's intentions at times, even at the smallest things like when his coworker ask him to pass him the salt one day at lunch.

“Sam is the girl I'm seeing,” Danny finally says, a weight falling off his shoulders after the words come out of his mouth. All you do is raise a brow. “We've been keeping it secret from her sister and her friends...”

“And me apparently,” you mutter.

Danny sends you an apologetic look, then he sighs sadly. “She's leaving,” he says again. “There was a murder of some students at Blackmore, your school.”

You frown. “Lucky bastards,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest childishly.

Danny's expression goes blank, a deadpan look crossing his face. He runs a hand down his face and shakes his head.

“It was a joke,” you say, eyes casting down to avoid his look. “What's the big deal of the murder anyway? It's New York. People die. We move on. It's the circle of life.”

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, your parents really did shield you from the world,” he mutters, huffing a breath afterward. “Do you watch the news? Check the internet–do you even know who Sam Carpenter is?” He asks you after a beat.

You shrug. “Relative of Jesus? I don't know, Danny– can't you just tell me instead of having me guess?” You give up, patience gone along with your interest in his love life.

And so Danny begins to explain, about Sam Carpenter's past. He tells you she's not just anyone—and you think he was going drone on about how amazing she is but no, he tells you she's tied to a dark legacy, one that involves a string of murders that happened in Woodsboro. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, one of the original killers from those infamous Ghostface murders.

You don't watch the news, so he has to explain the Woodsboro murders. He tells you there's movies about it and you remind him you don't watch horror movies. It leads to a long argument of what movie genre is the best–man, ADHD is in everyone in the family.

Your head spins as Danny returns to his explanation. And you try to piece it all together, figuring out the whole relative thing, the murders and the murderers. You decide to suck it up and watch the Stab movies when you get the time.

Right now, you have bigger things to think about. “Wait, you're telling me your girlfriend is related to some psychopath who went on a killing spree? And people think she might be involved in this new murder at Blackmore?”

Danny looks exhausted but nods. “That's why they're calling her a murderer. She's been trying to escape all of this, but it's followed her here.”

You scoff. “Man, you know how to pick 'em,” you laugh gently, going back to the living room to sit on the couch.

Danny follows behind you, glaring.

You sink into the couch, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry. Geez,” you mutter. “So you're dating a woman who might be the next Ghostface? Or worse, the target of another psycho?”

Danny shrugs, taking a seat beside you on the couch, shaking his head. “She's not the killer. I know her. She's just... trying to live a normal life. But people won't let her. You saw what happened tonight.”

You groan and lean back. “Great. Now I'm stuck in the middle of some horror movie drama.”

Danny frowns at that, worry lines deepening on his face. “Listen, just stay out of it, okay?”

“Believe me, I'm trying,” you huff.

“Sam's trying to leave all this behind. She's not dangerous. Just... misunderstood,” Danny defends.

You're quiet for a while, processing. “So, what now? She's leaving, but what about you?”

He shrugs, looking defeated. “I don't know. Maybe it's better this way.”

You let out a long sigh, not sure what to think anymore. Everything seems so absurd, like you've just been pulled into some twisted movie plot. “This better not end with me getting stabbed,” you mutter, half-joking but half-serious.

Danny gives you a tired smile. “I'll make sure it doesn't.” But his tone doesn't inspire much confidence, and you're left wondering just how deep this whole thing goes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you assume it's your mom checking in on you. You had told her of your plans and she was adamant of you not going to the party. You should have listened.

You also shouldn't have picked up the phone.

“Sweet mother,” you answer the phone, grinning at your cousin. He rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips tells you he found it funny.

You expect an answer but nothing comes. You look at your phone screen and tilt your head at the lack of caller ID on it.

“Hello?” You say, waiting for some kind of response.

“Hello, Dennis,” your eyebrows raise, looking at your cousin. “Welcome to the party. Are you having fun?”

You pause to really think of an honest answer for the question. The voice isn't one you recognize, then again, this person did call you by your fake name; he may not know you either.

“Well, not really,” you reply, shoulders sagging as you continue, “and I'm not Dennis. You either got the wrong number or you assume my name is Dennis 'cause you saw me at the party.”

“Oh but I have the right number,” the voice responds, almost giddily.

“Who is it?” Danny whispers, scooting closer to you.

You wave him off, listening to them continue.

“Your cousin thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?” The voice says, menacingly. “Always two steps ahead. But he'll never see me coming. Neither of you will,” then the line goes dead.

You shake your head when you hear the tone signaling the end of the call. You huff and drop your phone to your lap. Danny waits for you to explain the call.

“Some dude called,” you start, nonchalantly. “Said we're not gonna see him coming.”

Danny's eyes widen, standing to grab his phone in the kitchen. You're lost at his sudden rush and concern, following him slowly. He has his phone pressed to his ear, waiting anxiously for someone to answer.

He slams his phone on the counter a few seconds later. He grabs his keys then turns to you. “Let's go. I need your help.”

He doesn't explain and you stupidly follow him, wondering what exactly he needs help with. When you exit the apartment building, he turns to you, eyes wide, frantic, and filled with worry.

“Can you handle this?”

“Handle what? You haven't explained anything,” you reply, an unsettling feeling growing in your gut. “You're freaking me out, Danny.”

“We have to split up, but don't stop looking over your shoulder,” he grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his frantic eyes. “These GhostFace fanatics are freaks and you have to watch out for yourself. Can you handle this?”

The look on your cousin's face worries you, but your need to always help him—because he's always helped you, no matter what—makes you decide. You nod, confident and determined. You want your cousin to know he can count on you, just like you can count on him.

Not that you ever expected to chase after a killer to help your girlfriend. You're pretty sure you'd never get in a situation like this. You don't have fight in you; only flight.

But hell, if Danny needs you to search for that inner fight, you'll do it for him.

“You go that way, I'll go this way,” he points to the left then the right. “You knocked me out once when we were younger, think you can do that to a freak in a mask?”

You stare at him blankly. “I was ten and hyped up on sugar,” he sighs, regret crossing his face for bringing you into this. You shake your head, wanting to reassure him. “I got a knife,” you say as you pull out the box cutter your brother gave you for work.

Danny stares at it but doesn't comment. “Be careful,” he says, lifting his phone. “And call when you find them.”

You raise your hand to your forehead, saluting. He sprints off after doing a quick look around your surroundings. You do the same, gripping the box cutter in your hand like a lifeline.

You peek into every alley before passing it, making sure there isn't anyone lurking. You're not exactly sure how far you are from Danny's apartment when you reach the bodega at the corner. You come to a slow stop as several people run screaming out of the store.

“Please be a robbery,” you mutter, summoning the courage to fight instead of run. You bounce on your feet a few times, hyping yourself up before you finally walk up to the bodega's doors.

A bell chimes when you open the door, and the scene before you immediately makes you rethink your bravado.

GhostFace turns with the shotgun pointed at you. You've seen the mask before at stores, and you find it ridiculous that people are using a Halloween costume as a way to kill people.

“Wrong store, I'll come back late—”

You duck just in time to avoid the bullet and crawl toward the closest thing you can find for cover. You've played enough video games to know how to survive someone shooting at you.

You press your back against the shelf, heart pounding as you catch your breath. The bodega aisles stretch out in front of you, offering minimal coverage. You glance at the door–running seems like a bad idea. You could make a run for it, but you know bullets fly faster than you run.

His footsteps echo throughout the bodega, slow and deliberate; like he has all the time in the world. But he can't be stupid, someone must have called 911 by now. Right?

You peek around the shelf, catching a glimpse of the mirror hanging from the ceiling. You watch it to see what direction GhostFace is walking to. You see him step over a body, and you're aware it was cashier who probably tried to play hero.

Then, you see them and you roll your head in annoyance. Danny was not lying. Her past follows her so of course Sam and Tara are here, hiding from the freak in the mask.

“I could be in bed,” you mumble, looking at the shelf you're hiding behind for something to use. “But noooo...the one time you rebel against your parents' wishes, you get stuck in some shitty fanfiction a weirdo is writing,” you grab a can, then a jar of olives.

You glance at the mirror, GhostFace is steps away from discovering Sam and Tara so you don't even acknowledge Sam's attempt to get your attention–you toss the can towards the door. He quickly turns and reacts with shooting a nonexistent figure.

You stand now that his back was turned, lifting your arm to throw the jar at his head. As the jar flies in the air, you whistle to get his attention and timed it well to hit him square in the face. The shotgun falls out of his hands and you shout at the sisters to run.

They don't need to be told twice. Sam grabs Tara's arm, pulling her along as they run out of the store. You can hear sirens in the distance but you keep your eyes on GhostFace, who finally regains his composure. He looks out the bodega's windows and sees the flashing lights, then looks back at you with a look that tells you he is not happy.

He runs away and disappears towards the back, leaving you standing there in disbelief.

Did you just face off with a murderer?

You exit the store with your hands up, not wanting the cops to assume you're a threat. Either way, you're handled roughly by an officer as he grips your hands to cuff.

Sam and Tara appear out of nowhere, pulling you out of the replay of the events that occurred in the store. You blink, feeling the cuffs bite your wrists with a tight pinch.

“Stop, they helped us,” Sam says first, voice firm as she glares at the officer. Tara doesn't wait long to support her statement.

“Helped how?” The officer asks, eyeing you and now them suspiciously. Still, he doesn't even loosen his grip on your wrists.

“New York's finest,” you mumble with a head shake. You grimace when his grips tightens. “Oww,” you drawl out.

“They distracted GhostFace long enough for us to get out,” Tara adds, sending you a warning glare to keep your mouth shut. You duck your head, pursing your lips into a thin line. “If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have gotten out,” she jumps to your defense again.

The officer eyes you all, eyes squinting as he stares. He grunts then, “wait here.”

“Am I under arrest?” You asks as he walks away. You groan at his lack of response.

You tap your foot, aware of the presence of the sisters. You can feel the tension from the Carpenters without even looking at them. The last time you were alone with Sam, you ended up in a bush. Last time you saw Tara, she was wearing a pirate costume and laughing about it. Now, here you are. Life, huh?

“Nice night,” you mumble, because apparently, you never learn when to keep your mouth shut.

Both sisters look at you, deadpan. If looks could slap, you'd be on the ground. You shut up, but only for a second, because now Danny comes running up, and you know this is going to be great.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Danny hisses, eyes darting between you and the sisters.

“Saved your girlfriend,” you snarl, feeling deeply insulted that he automatically assumes you did something stupid. Danny freezes, eyes widening in horror at the worst-kept secret in the room.

You walk up to the officer as makes his way over to you. “Please say I'm under arrest,” you practically plead, wanting to escape from this reality.

The officer shakes his head, signaling for you to turn around. You do as you're told, feeling him unlock the cuffs from around your wrists. The stares from the three of them make you shift uncomfortably, keeping your head down until you're able to feel your wrists, holding them against your chest to soothe the ache.

Tara snaps her neck towards her sister, her gaze sharp. “Girlfriend?” she asks, voice icy.

Sam winces, like she knew this was coming. “Not now, Tara,” she nods in the direction a detective walking over to them.

The man smiles crookedly, stepping up to them almost awkwardly. “Care to explain?” He starts, then looks between you and Danny. “I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm detective Bailey.”

“Danny,” your cousin introduces himself, crossing his arms over his chest. There's a tension between them and he feels it thickening with each second passing.

Bailey turns to you. You tap on the fake name tag still on your shirt. “Dennis,” you lie, earning yourself an elbow to your side. You glare at Danny before returning to look at the detective. “Y/N,” you mumble, huffing.

Bailey nods, then sighs as his gaze returns to the Carpenter sisters. “I think you know what I'm going to say,” he says.

Sam nods, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “Let's go then,” she makes her way to the car the detective came in, her sister following.

Danny does the same but you, however, don't move. You didn't sign up for whatever this is. This is your chance to finally step away from this situation. Then, like they all practiced, they turn back to look at you.

“I'm fine here,” you say dismissively. “I appreciate the invite though–”

“Get in the car,” Danny orders with a glare, pointing to the vehicle.

You didn't plan to, you really didn't. But when you look at Tara–when Tara looks back at you, her expression shifting from anger to something softer—vulnerability, maybe. For a second, she's not the girl who just stared down a serial killer; she's just... someone who doesn't want to be alone.

That gets you. You barely know the girl but those eyes draw you in. Screw you and your inability to walk away from a pretty girl. You shuffle toward the car, muttering under your breath several complaints.

You squish in the back seat, Tara seated between you and Sam. The drive to the police station drives by the house the whole night started at. You frown at the sight of your car, lonesome and abandoned.

You sigh dramatically, your mind suddenly reminding you of the one thing that truly matters. “Ahh, fuck,” you groan, earning immediate side-eyes from everyone in the car. “I've got a paper due at midnight.”

Danny turns, his expression a perfect blend of exhaustion and disbelief. “Stop talking.”

And for once, you do.

As you approach the police station, the lights flickering in the night like a beacon of both hope and uncertainty, you realize that whatever happens next, you're not alone. You might be just a regular person caught in a slasher film, but now you're part of something bigger. You were here for Danny, and were further dragged in by Tara's doe eyes, and maybe—just maybe—this wild ride will lead to something unexpected. Hell, this may turn out for a good final senior thesis.

You take a deep breath, feeling that flicker of determination ignite within you. No matter how this night ends, you won't let fear hold you back. After all, survival is a team sport, and you're ready to play.

The car rolls to a stop, and as you all step out into the bright lights of the police station, you can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a very messy adventure. But at least you'll face it with someone.

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #scream 6 #scream vi #jenna ortega x reader #the unwitting hero

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sturnioloisland · 5 months ago

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Boyfriend Headcannons | M.S. [SFW]

Pairing: Matt x GN!Reader

Warnings: None - just sweet ole fluff

A/N: Hey you guys, I’m back from the dead :)🫶🏼 Pt. 1 [SFW] + Pt. 2 [NSFW]

If you’re someone who enjoys reading, Matt definitely loves resting his head on your lap while your lost in your book. Just absentmindedly reading the pages while running your hands through his hair. It’s comforting to him and sometimes causes him to drift off into a light slumber.

He’s definitely the kind of boyfriend who would enjoy being on the phone with you - although that doesn’t mean he will be talking the entire time. He just likes knowing you’re there. If he’s away from you on some trip, he’s definitely falling asleep with you on the phone.

Matt quickly picks up on your quirks and interests. He takes note of whether you prefer sweet or savory foods, what condiments you prefer (secretly praying you despise ketchup too), what songs you listen to depending on your mood, etc. He’s very observant when it comes to you.

He’s definitely a little spoon argue with the wall. Matt loves nothing more than to be wrapped up in your arms while you’re both all snug and cozy in bed. He definitely isn’t against being big spoon, but there’s just something about having your arms around him.

I definitely believe he would keep like a cute polaroid picture of you either somewhere in his car or in his wallet, but honestly maybe both. There’s also a framed photo of the both of you on his nightstand. It’s one of the first things he sees when he wakes up in the morning, and it always brings some kind of smile and warm feeling to him.

We all can agree that he would definitely try to teach you how to play his favorite video games, but he doesn’t want you getting to the point where you’re better than him. He’s still very competitive, and even though he loves you very much, he doesn’t want you to beat him.

He likes driving you guys down to the shoreline and just sitting in silence while listening to the waves crashing against the shore. It doesn’t matter if you’re laying on a blanket in the sand or just sitting in the car with the windows rolled down. Sometimes he’ll play soft music in the background, but really he just enjoys having you there with him.

The most unhelpful person to take with you if you need to go grocery shopping. You’ll be on a mission to gather what you need, and one minute he’ll be standing next to you — the next you’ll lose track of him only to find him back at the candle isle holding one out to you saying “this one reminds me of you” OR he’s looking at an arrangement of stuffed animals pleading with you that one of them looks lonely on the shelf and just has to come home with you guys.

No matter how long you guys have been together, he’ll love you just as much as he did when you first got together. His love and loyalty to you knows no bounds, and he always strives to make your life better. He wants to feel worthy of being in your life, and he will never hesitate to show you that.

A/n pt. 2: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. It’s been a crazy and hectic couple of months for me, but i’m going to try to get back to writing some more.

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lilpotatjj · 6 months ago

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Cait and Sam watching their own wedding night episode? Yes aaand no. We all know what these two lovebirds did...like come on who wouldn't? I escalated a wee bit. That's one of my longest Oneshots (almost 5000 words) and I'm gonna continue this with a hugh story about them. Living the forbidden lie in all his cuteness.

Warning: starts with super fluffy and lovely cuteness and turns into a soft 18+ hot mess. Sam beeing Sam and Cait beeing most of the time Cait with slightly cute shyness

(Credits to the Gif owners)

♡Chap.1-Directing their own happy hour♡

A crazy year is over. Filming has long since been completed and the premiere of the first season is over. Several interviews have been held and the first episodes are already on TV. It's September, cool and unpleasantly rainy in LA this year and the day before the premiere of the seventh episode. It's called 'The Wedding Night'.

Cait was out and about, drenched after a conversation with one of the co-producers. It was up in the air whether there would be a second season, but the prospects looked good. She didn't think to bring an umbrella. Why in LA, where it is usually quite warm, even in September.

She ran to her car, the newspaper just over her head for protection, and got in. 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ... What the hell is wrong with this weather?' she cursed and was completely soaked. She quickly switched on the engine and turned up the heating. As she drove off, her mobile phone suddenly rang in its holder on the dashboard of the car. 'Hey Sam,' she said simply and focussed on the road.

'Have you been bathing?' he asked wryly, obviously making himself comfortable.

'Very funny...the weather in LA almost reminds me of home,' she was finding it difficult to speak. She was shaking a little and had trouble concentrating. 'I'll call you later if it's unfavourable?' he asked and she said no, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Ah ok' he paused for a moment. 'Tell me what's going on, I'll be fine' she said with chattering teeth and he had to smile, sitting up straight again and looking thoughtful. 'What do you think about travelling to my place and I'll tell you what's going on when you've warmed up at my place?' he asked sincerely without any ulterior motives.

Her cheeks flushed, which wasn't just because she was cold. 'All right, I'm on my way. The same hotel as always?' she asked and he replied with a quick "Yes". The rain didn't stop, on the contrary, it even got heavier. She parked the car in one of the parkingslots in front of the hotel and dashed inside as quickly as she could. Once inside, she asked at reception for the surname Heughan. The servant nodded conspicuously. 'Ah yes, Mr Heughan, he had informed me. He's in room 0410,' he said and with a very friendly smile, he pointed down one of the corridors. Cait thanked him and walked towards his room. Once there, she knocked on his door without thinking. He opened it for her and looked her up and down briefly before she simply entered his hotel room. He looked after her, slightly amused, and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, he found her standing by the radiator, shivering slightly. He went to her and put a towel over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and unconsciously smiled far too sweetly. 'Thank you,' she said quietly and his eyes stayed on hers for longer than he wanted. The reason why he grabbed her towel and started playfully rubbing her hair dry. 'You should bring an umbrella next time,' he said with amusement. 'It wasn't raining when I was out' she gave him an annoyed look as he then went to the wardrobe to lend her some of his own clothes.

'Here' He held the clothes out to her wordlessly and she took them hesitantly. 'It's not going to stop raining that quickly for now. You can spend the night if you want. I'll sleep on the couch,' he said as he looked out of the window. She gave him a look of disbelief. 'Oh come on, we slept anywhere on set where there was space and time. You can sleep in the bed with me' she said dryly without thinking about it and Sam turned to her with his typical look, eyebrow raised slightly, he nodded.

She was right. Time on set was often pretty tough. Sometimes there was no time to sleep and filming often lasted well over 24 hours. Sometimes one of the props or simply a bench was a comfortable place to sleep for a short break. But now they are no longer on set, there is no one around to watch them.

'What did you want to talk about?' she asked curiously as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of his big hoodies. She almost sank into it and yet it looked great on her. 'Right, exactly... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to watch tomorrow's episode of Outlander with me' he said and she looked at him curiously. 'What episode was it again?' she asked, rubbing her face tiredly. 'The seventh episode,' he said, unconsciously tense. 'oh ok' came from her, benignly ignorant. 'What's the name of the episode, I'm just too tired to remember which one the last one left off at,' she said, pouring herself a sip of the wine on the table.

'The Wedding Night...' She choked and coughed for a moment. Now it dawned on her. It was that episode. She remembered all the scenes on set too well.

'Are you ok?' he asked without making any facial expressions. 'Yes... I'm sorry,' she apologised and put her glass down again for safety reasons. 'But we're going to need more wine,' she said with amusement and her grin was almost unpleasant. The mood was strange. He scrutinised her carefully while she just stared at the wine, motionless and thoughtful.

She looked slowly at him, his gaze still fixed on her. You would have thought he was burning every corner of her face. It made her nervous, but not in an unpleasant way. She felt the heat in her cheeks and stood up abruptly. 'I think I've spilt...I'll be right back' she disappeared into the bathroom in a flash. She was aware of what was happening, or so she thought, but she was still unsure. He was and is her co-partner. What would the media say, Starz or everyone involved in the big picture? She didn't realise she was breathing faster.

'Cait, are you all right?' he asked anxiously from behind the door. 'Y..yes...I'll be right back.' She splashed water on her face and then came out again. 'And you're sure we should sleep in the same bed?' he asked with raised eyebrows, almost admonishingly. 'That's fine, it's ok,' she said dryly and gave him a cheeky look. She stood in front of him. He was so tall that she always had to look up at him. 'But only if you change too...I doubt you want to sleep in those jeans...you already hated them on set' she looked at him challengingly and tugged at his collar. He enjoyed her closeness. It was clear that he had had feelings for her for some time. It was impossible not to, given the sight of her and her wonderful character. But whether she would ever be serious about him was an open question. He doesn't push her, gives her room to manoeuvre and is patient. Like a crocodile patiently waiting to snatch its prey.

He gave her a charming smile and went to his wardrobe, took out more comfortable clothes and looked at her briefly. She sat down on the couch and unconsciously inspected him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't miss her gaze and when he came out again, he saw her sitting on the couch with her head resting on her hand. She grinned at him. 'Do you want to watch something or are you too tired and want to go to sleep?' he asked solidly, closing the curtains. He turned round and noticed that she already had jumped into bed. She snuggled into the big duvet. He laughed briefly and shook his head playfully. 'well...I take it you've had a full day today...want to talk?' he came round and lay down in bed too. They both looked at each other, snuggled together under a blanket, she was quiet for a moment and had to look at him. It's a completely different feeling alone without people from the set. Far away from all the other trailers, other people or cameras. There was no one here. The thought of it made her heart beat gently faster and she almost forgot to speak, let alone breathe, at the sight of him.

'Yeah...I had a call today and two other annoying appointments before that. I've been travelling all day...then there's the rain...I'm honestly glad to be with you right now' the last words came out of her innocently and unusually meekly. She is usually the type of person who says what she thinks, with consideration for the feelings of others. But it's easier with him. She can be whatever she wants, let herself go with him. He listened to her quietly and attentively.

'Sam... what is it between us?' She looked him in the eye and tried to understand the moment. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a wave of his hand, ignoring his own pounding heart. 'We're just lying here talking,' he replied briefly in a low voice. Jesus, can't he stop being cute for once? Struggling to concentrate from his voice and the sight of him, Cait swallowed with difficulty, unable to find an answer.

It was so quiet. Neither of them said anything. Her breathing was much faster and without thinking she snuggled up to him, hiding her face in his chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could hear his heart beating softly and realised that it was also much faster. Sam took her carefully in his arms and decided to remain silent for the time being, to savour the moment. He could smell her hair and buried his face in it a little, kissing it and noticed her smile. He did the same and had to smile. As always, no one needs to say anything to understand.

The sun's warm rays tickled Cait's cheeks and she moved slowly. A large, warm body lay close to her. You really don't need a heater when you're lying next to this 1.92m tall man. She grinned happily as she realised who it was. He was still asleep. She took this moment to observe his sleeping form. He looked so content and balanced, still holding her tightly in his arms.

His calm breathing was soothing, like a lullaby. It was nothing new, sleeping with him, hearing his breathing, feeling him against her, his embrace and yet this time it was completely different. She felt a tingling in her stomach at the mere thought of wanting to touch him. It made her nervous and she suddenly looked away from him only to look back at him again. Her gaze kept switching between his lips and the air she was trying to stare into. No Cait...you better not. Once you start, it will end badly... she thought to herself and thought back to their time on set. They often kissed away from the camera. Out of spontaneous situations to practise, of course...right? The heat rose in her face again. She tried to control her thoughts, but her heart was making it damn hard. She didn't even realise that she had come closer to him, her face close to his, her breathing as if she were climbing a mountain that was out of reach. However, with an unmistakable sound in her voice, she freed herself from his grip in a flash and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without realising it, she was sweating. She clutched her forehead and tried to get her breathing under control. Damn Balfe, a little more self-control! Her thoughts were waging a war she was in danger of losing. He opened one eye and watched her actions. She flinched slightly as he began to stretch and looked slightly to the side in his direction. He couldn't help but grin self-consciously. She was so cute. He didn't know her to be that shy or insecure. On set, they could both let Jamie and Claire hang out, kiss or touch each other however they wanted. Nobody would have thought it was anything serious, at least that's what they both thought.

She stood up abruptly and looked nervously at him. 'I'm going to freshen up,' she said briefly and Sam let himself fall into his pillow with a smile. He wanted the time to last. To savour this precious moment, just with her...just with Cait.

He made breakfast and the rest of the day was relaxed. Except for a few little things Sam had to do this time, the day was uneventful. Cait spent the time in his room and fell asleep on his couch once again. She was far too tired from the last few days, not to mention the previous night. Snuggled up with one of Sam's woollen blankets, she slept peacefully. The blanket smelled wonderfully of him and transported her to dreamland far too quickly. When the Scotsman returned later that day, he saw her curled up on the couch. Still asleep. He put the key away and took off his shoes to go to her. With quiet steps, he stood next to her and looked at her without a word. She looked so innocent. He often did, watching her sleep. Her soft purring when she slept. Her soft smile when he always secretly snuggled up to her, just to be close to her unnoticed. He loved it.

Sam simply stood still for another moment and looked down at her thoughtfully, bent down and got very close to her face. He could feel her breath on him. The corner of his mouth twitched impatiently and he gave her a delicate kiss on her soft lips. His heart did what it wanted and almost ran away from him, but he didn't care. The kiss was short and so gentle that Cait didn't wake up, at least that's what he thought and realised he was wrong. The ball of blanket and the supposed Mrs Fraser inside it moved gently. She opened her eyes just a crack to somehow recognise what in God's name was happening. Sam was already scurrying about, unpacking a few things he'd been shopping for. There were a few bottles of wine and something to nibble on.

She sat up in a daze, her hair in a wild mess and yawned tiredly. 'What time is it?' she asked with a husky voice. 'It's already 7 pm. How long have you been asleep?' He brought two bottles of wine to the table and two glasses. 'Too long... Well, I don't think I'll fall asleep that quickly watching TV,' she said with amusement and ran her hands through her hair to fix it a little. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, unpacking a bag at the same time. It was Asian Food. 'Yes,' she replied curtly and watched the Scotsman without realising it. Her gaze was dreamy, as if she was looking at the jackpot she had won. He came over to her and set her something to eat. She had to smile. Of course he knew exactly what her favourite food was. 'Thank you,' she said and they both ate some of the food.

'Do you remember filming the episode?' he asked when he had finished eating.

'Yes, quite a lot. I'm curious how it was edited. Some days were so long and tiring,' she took a breath and looked at him. 'It was sometimes very difficult to stay relaxed and yet... You made it easy for me to shoot the more difficult scenes,' he said with a smile and looked at her in detail. She couldn't avoid his gaze and was caught up in it. She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a good sip.

Cait laughed softly as she remembered. 'Did you remember the scene when Claire said "go to bed"? God, how many times we replayed that just because our producer never liked the look in your eyes and then I said "to fuck" off camera, or so I thought? Your look afterwards was exactly what they wanted to see and it was recorded,' she laughed and took another sip. Sam did the same and poured the red wine down his throat. 'How could I forget?' his voice sounded ironic with an amused undertone. 'At least it wasn't too cold when we were naked for what felt like 24 hours,' he said and poured more wine.

She looked silently into her wine glass after his words, then raised her eyes and literally stared at him. He's like an accident... you don't want to look but you can't help but stare at him with curiosity and anticipation. Too mesmerised by his gaze, she once again couldn't get a word out. He could throw a bone now and she would run after it like a dog. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'The episode is about to start,' he breathed so quietly that she had to think for a moment whether she had heard him correctly.

Sam came closer to her, looked deep into her eyes and was tired of seeing her like this. She was literally begging to be touched. The Scotsman didn't hesitate a second longer and kissed her gently yet firmly. Cait was briefly surprised and yet she accepted the kiss without hesitation. As if they had kissed hundreds of times before, he brought her to him by taking her face in his hand. He stroked her cheek tenderly and was the first to break the kiss. Cait just looked at him. She could have sworn her heart was stuck one floor below. He smiled at her and she did the same, returning his smile with a blissful grin. He took the remote control without another word.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, but you could just feel the crackle. He switched on the TV and the episode started. She looked over at him expectantly, so he couldn't help but lean over and grab her, cuddling her right next to him against his chest. Cait took a contented breath and drank more of the wine as she savoured his closeness and warmth.

They both made comments here and there and had to laugh and shake their heads when Rupert and Angus burst in. 'I remember one of them fell badly once,' Sam laughed and they both grinned. Then came the scene where Claire asks Jamie to bed. Both the Scot and the Irishwoman watched the scene tensely and had to smile again and again. 'How many times we had to repeat that...but you did a good job,' she said contentedly to distract them from what was actually happening. Jamie grabbed Claire's breast. 'Christ, how many times you made me laugh, Cait...you kept making jokes about my breasts,' Sam said with amusement and Cait turned bright red. 'Well I was nervous as hell...we had to take our clothes off...I was afraid I'd ruin your view of naked women' she said sheepishly and he took her chin and forced her to look at him.

'my god Cait...how can you say that...' he whispered more and she looked at him nervously and slightly guiltily. Before she could say anything, Sam beat her to it. 'Your body is beautiful.' She stared at him and their gazes parted as the scene came where Jamie plopped on top of her and penetrated her. The situation couldn't have been stranger. It was weird for both of them to see each other like this. It looked a thousand times hotter on the screen than when they were both shooting that scene over and over again.

Sam grinned at Claire's sweet words when she said she gets crushed by Jamie. He noticed Cait's tension, she squeezed her legs tightly together and banished all her thoughts to the farthest corner of her brain cells. To no avail. Sam looked down at her and took the wine glass from her hand. How much had they actually had now? Both bottles of wine were empty.

Cait looked at him questioningly, but she knew the answer. Sam slowly stroked her legs and hesitantly approached her face. Her breathing increased, her lower lip quivering in response to his touch. She closed the gap and kissed him. But this time more demanding and with far less restraint. Gripped by what was on the television, Cait pressed herself closer to him and without thinking about it, she sat on his lap. He gasped briefly under the stormy kisses only to continue on her neck. She let out a sigh. A soft, pleasurable sound that he knew all too well. It had almost always driven him crazy when they gave their all during filming and he wasn't allowed to have her completely. Shooting a scene is one thing. Shooting naked is something else, but constantly filming wild sex scenes in the nude with such a beautiful woman is simply torture. With her playful but otherwise confident character, he would have liked to show how much he really liked her. He constantly had to touch her. On her breasts, her body and getting closer to areas with his face that made him want to seriously give up control of himself.

Meanwhile, no matter what was on the television, she only had eyes for her Scotsman. She looked at him dreamily, losing herself in his gaze. Everything about him is so attractive. His hair, which she now clung to in order not to lose her mind. His upper body, his beard and God damn his face, with his ice-cold blue eyes that almost robbed her of her will. She unconsciously moved onto his lap when she realised that he was already more than ready for action. Now she smirked cheekily at him, causing him to bite his lower lip. 'You little beast....now you're showing your true colours,' he said almost choking and his gaze didn't leave hers for a second. Somehow they knew it, but it was different here too. He took off her hoodie and just looked at her for a moment. As if he couldn't believe what he saw, he grabbed her breasts as if he wanted to make sure they were the same as usual. He kissed one of them gently and played around with the other.

She leant her head back with pleasure and let him do his thing. 'Sam....' she breathed and looked at him, slightly dazed. 'You too....' she whispered excitedly and took off his shirt too. She looked at him with red cheeks. It didn't matter whether it was the alcohol or Sam's fault. No matter who she drank from, she would be intoxicated by both. She touched him on the shoulder and ran her fingers down his neck to the area below his belly button, from which a few hairs flashed out. Sam's eyes were fixed on Cait with an expression as if she were made of glyphs and he was trying to decipher them.

She grabbed his belt with her hand and tried to open it, but this turned out to be difficult when sitting. He grabbed her ass and literally threw her on the couch, took off his pants only to stand completely naked in front of her. Her gaze was discreetly surprised and looked at his best piece. She was not prepared for that now. They always wore protection on set, which didn't help much when Sam had a hard-on, but it covered everything. She swallowed and for a second a shy shadow could be seen in her eyes. "We want to stay fair, my dear," he pointed to her pants and came closer to her playfully. She looked at him nervously and had to smile to cover up her nervousness.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked as a precaution and in answer she nodded and looked at him with a cheeky, innocent face. He grinned confidently and helped her undress. There she was, completely exposed with a red glow on her cheeks. They had both played through this position so many times before, but this one moment now belonged to the two of them alone.

He grabbed her by the hand to pull her up to him. Cait stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye anything but uncertainly. She literally felt his heartbeat, as if the two were synchronously forming a unit. She took his hands and intertwined her fingers in his. "Caitriona you are so beautiful" proudly sounded in his voice and she smiled happily at him. "Just you and me" she whispered lovingly, looked at him longingly and Sam couldn't ask any more questions, because she had just answered them.

He kissed her, longing and greedy, clawed at her ass to lift her up and faltered briefly. There was no cut, nothing that interrupted them despite the swaying and could stop the lust of both. He let himself fall back a little on the couch, with her on his lap, without even thinking about breaking the kiss.

Now nothing went according to the script. He was the director of this scene and decided how to proceed in accordance with his Irish beauty. She enjoyed every touch, every second and breathed heavier as he caressed her breasts. Cait became more impatient and looked at him almost begging. He grabbed her ass again to lift her and positioned her so that Sam could penetrate her without any problems. He smiled... She was more than ready. A groan on her part indicated that the tackle would continue as he was into her completely. The Hugh Scot didn't want to slow down, not to be careful that something unexpected happened.

Cait moved and he adjusted to her. This time he couldn't help but moan quietly. She rested her forehead on his and continued moving. Regardless of the hotel neighbors, neither of them cared how loud they were.

He had to smile at the sight of her. She moaned subtly differently than when they were filming. It sounded the same as always, but there was a hint of honesty in the sound of her lovely voice. The sound that makes his bones tremble and underlines the pleasure he is really giving her. Flowing through the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline that they both experience and that made them both sweat, he felt how aroused she already was. He concentrated on her to give her the moment of happiness, but had great difficulty enduring it, especially with her moaning. She really deeply enjoying it.

'Sam...' damn it, he tried so hard not to lose control, but moaning his name like that almost pushed him over the edge. He gasped heavily and bit her shoulder. Finally, she felt a wave rushing deep inside her and completely flooding her. She moaned louder and let him feel how much he loved her without ever having said it.

'Sassenach!' He gasped at the same time as her and let himself fall completely as he came inside her, clawing a little too hard at her round ass. She sank exhausted onto his shoulder and gasped for air. Completely out of breath, both of them tried to understand the situation they were in.

'Everything ok...Mo Chridhe?' He hesitated at first, but he had to say it. He loved her and had no doubt that this would ever change. She was too perfect, her temperament, her way of dealing with him and her laugh. God, how much he loved her laugh. The Scotsman lovingly wrapped the wool blanket around her and let her get some air, but it was starting to make him nervous because she was still hiding into his chest. 'Is everything ok, Cait?' he asked nervously. She turned her head so that her face was directed towards the crook of his neck and he could feel her breath. He got goosebumps.

'I love you...' she whispered softly to him. Three words that could throw him off balance and almost made his heart stop. A smile twitched across his lips. 'I love you too... Sassenach...' he said lovingly and playfully and felt her smile. 'What do we tell the producers?" she asked, quite worried. 'Nothing at first. It will be difficult to hide it... at least partially. Maybe they'll let us do it and accept the unspoken facts. Filming should be easier for both of us,' he tried to explain and stroked her back. Suddenly he looked at her with a Jamie expression, as if he had traveled through time in just a second. 'Could you now...' he paused briefly.

'What?' now she looked at him confused. 'I mean we didn't use protection...' he got nervous and the Irish woman had to giggle. 'No...that's out of the question, don't worry' she said. He smiled in relief. 'We missed half the episode,' he said and she snuggled up next to him. 'It doesn't matter...we'll watch it again then" she said with a cheeky undertone and he kissed her extensively.

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formula-nyoom · 1 year ago

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Rookie Reflections | LS2

Platonic! Logan Sargent x Rookie!Reader

Summary: Being the only new addition to the grid, it may seem intimidating to try and introduce yourself to the other drivers. Logan remembers exactly what it's like to be the new rookie and doesn't want a repeat of what happened to him to happen to anyone else.

A/N: Pronouns weren’t specified so I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible. I still haven’t decided if I want to write in 2nd or 3rd person, it really depends on the fic/request. Previous reader inserts I have written have been done in 2nd person so I defaulted to that with this fic, but do let me know which one you prefer. Logan, my favorite driver, I’m glad my first request is for him. Also I have no hate towards Daniel, it just made a lot more sense to me for the reader to take his seat.

Silly season didn’t come with a lot of shake ups like people expected it to. The only team to switch up their driver line up for the upcoming season was RB, with Daniel being replaced by the newest Formula 2 champion after not delivering the results Red Bull had wanted from him.

You had met Yuki for the first time during the car launch before pre-season testing, but with all the cameras, interviews, and excitement surrounding the new car launch, you were unable to find the time to properly get to know each other. You had hoped to get a chance to maybe sit down with Yuki and get to know your new teammate, but now in Bahrain with all the drivers in one place it seemed that all of them had already split off into their pre-established friend groups that had been built up over years of racing alongside each other, Yuki included.

That’s the thing with being the only new driver for the season: All the other drivers already knew each other well enough that you felt too intimidated to approach any of them. Going to Formula 2 where you knew almost all the drivers to Formula 1 where you knew no one, it was like being the new kid at school. And that seemed even more evident during the pre-season photoshoot.

Yuki still had some last bits of data to go over with his engineer so you arrived at the photoshoot without your teammate. While you did arrive early, most of the drivers were already there, either talking with each other or members of their team. A few gave you curious glances, maybe an awkward smile or two, but none felt the need to approach. Not wanting to risk bothering anyone, you decided to find a spot secluded from the various groups of people while you waited for either Yuki to show up or for the photoshoot to start. Maybe when the photographer started to position people for the photos, you could possibly strike up a conversation with whoever was placed near you. But for now, you felt content standing off to the side where no one would really approach you. Or so you thought.

Logan had forgotten something in the Williams garage, making him arrive at the photoshoot after Alex. And while he could have walked over to his teammate, who was currently chatting with George, he noticed you standing off to the side. You were away from everyone to where you wouldn’t get in the way as you scrolled through your phone.

Logan knows that move. He did it many times during his rookie season because of how out of place he felt. But he also wasn’t the only rookie during his season, unlike you who was the only new person to the grid. He can probably guess how nervous or out of place you may seem. Logan knows that feeling. He hates that feeling and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to approach you. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to since Alex was busy talking to George, and Oscar was busy talking to Lando. Either way, he thought it was a good idea to introduce himself.

“Hey,” Logan said, getting your attention. “You’re the new RB driver, right?”

Logan already knew the answer to that question, but he thought that was a better question to ask than pointing out the fact that you’re the new rookie.

“Yea, I am.” You said. Guess you were wrong about people not approaching you as you looked at the man standing before you.

“I’m Logan.” He said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You already knew his name before he introduced himself. Hell, you knew all drivers names on the grid but that was another intimidating reason why you hadn’t tried to approach anyone.

“I’m (Y/N).” You said, shaking Logan’s hand.

“So, are you excited for the upcoming season?” Logan asked.

“Yea. The car seems to be a good contender with the testing we’ve done so far. Hopefully I’ll be able to score some points by the end of the season.”

“What makes you think you won’t get points at the beginning?” Logan asked.

“Well I am the rookie this season. I’m still getting used to the car, it’s a huge difference from the F2 car I was driving last year. Plus everyone else has been racing longer than I have. It's gonna take me a while to catch up.” You explained.

“Oh come on, don’t doubt yourself this early. Trust me, it doesn’t help.” Logan said. You shrugged.

“I guess you’re right. I mean, I’m gonna try my best no matter what, but the highest I can see myself getting for the first race is P15.” You told him.

“That’s a good start. “ Logan said. He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The two of you ended up talking about what you both did over the winter break and your expectations for the season until the photographer called for the photoshoot to start. You hadn’t even realized Yuki had arrived until the photographer positioned you two next to each other.

“I saw you and Logan talking earlier. I hope it was a good conversation.” He whispered as you waited for the photographer to take a picture.

“He was just introducing himself. We talked about our expectations for the season.” You told him. Yuki smiled a bit.

“Logan’s always been nice. I’m glad you’re getting to know some of the other drivers.”

~~~

“Come on Yuki, pick up!” You mumbled as the call went to voicemail again. After pre-season testing had wrapped up, you had finally managed to get to know Yuki by going out to get dinner together with the rest of the team. He had promised that the two of you would walk together through the paddock on the first day of the season, but after arriving at the entrance you saw no sign of your teammate. And the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone didn’t help either. But looking around towards all the cars pulling in towards the entrance, you did however see Logan arriving.

“Logan!” You quickly walked over to him as he got closer to the entrance.

“Hey. What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with your team?” He asked, noticing the lack of anyone from RB with you.

“Well me and Yuki were supposed to walk in together, but I can’t find him anywhere and he’s not answering my calls.” You said. You looked past the turnstiles at the entrance to the paddock. “I don’t really want to walk in by myself.”

“Do you want me to walk in with you?” Logan asked. You looked back at him.

“If it’s not too much to ask.” You said. Logan just shook his head and smiled.

“It’s no bother.” He said. He gently ushered you towards the entrance and the two of you walked through. It was an understatement to say that you were nervous to greet the cheering fans that stood by the barriers with things to sign. But knowing that Logan was right next you signing things as well and taking pictures with fans made you less nervous. You even got to take some pictures with him and fans as well.

“If I wore all these friendship bracelets in the car, I think I would add an extra pound.” You joked as the two of you walked past the various team garages.

“Soon you’re gonna end up having a full storage closet at your house just full of stuff that fans have given you.” Logan said. You smiled at that idea.

“Hopefully I won’t develop carpal tunnel from all the stuff I’m gonna have to sign over the year.” Good thing being a Formula 1 driver consists more of driving cars than signing things.”

“You say that now, but just wait until the RB merchandise team sits you down in a room filled with driver cards you have to sign. Your wrist is going to be so sore afterwards.” Logan said. You let out a chuckle.

“(Y/N)!” You turned to see Yuki, coming from the RB hospitality, running over to the two of you. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. They put me in the press conference at the last minute. I had to come early.” Yuki explained.

“It’s ok Yuki. Logan walked in with me.” You said. You turned back to Logan. “Thank you, by the way. I should probably go see my team.”

“Like I said, it was no bother. I’d be happy to walk the paddock with you anytime.” He said. “I’ll see you two on the track.”

He waved goodbye and then headed to the William’s garage as you headed with Yuki back to the RB hospitality to get ready for the upcoming practice sessions.

~~~

“Ok (Y/N). We’ve been knocked out of Q1. You are P17.” Your race engineer said through the radio as the qualifying session ended and you slowed your car down for a cool down lap.

“Not the result I had hoped for, but it’s something I can improve upon. Did Yuki make it to Q2?” You asked, making your way into the pit lane.

“Yes, Yuki did make it into Q2.” Your engineer said.

“That’s good. Hope he can make it into Q3.” You pulled into your designated pitlane and flipped up your visor to let some air into your helmet as the pit crew pulled your car into the garage.

After changing out of your race suit and fireproofs, you put on a pair of headphones and joined the crew in watching Q2. You were happy to see that Logan made it into Q2 as well, and was secretly hoping he would make it into Q3 along with Yuki. Both of them did good laps during Q2 but Yuki unfortunately was only able to place P11. Logan barely managed to get by into Q3, but couldn’t place any higher and ended up in front of your teammate, placing P10 for tomorrow’s race. After congratulating Yuki on his placement, you left the RB garage to go look for Logan to do the same thing. You didn’t have to look far, as the American driver was exiting the William’s garage as you approached.

“Hey, nice driving today!” You said, giving Logan’s shoulder a congratulatory pat.

“Thanks. I’m shocked I was able to make it into Q3. I thought I was going to get knocked out in Q2, I didn’t expect Lance to get his lap time deleted.” Logan said. “Where’d you place?”

“P17. I wasn’t able to gain enough speed on my last lap to get myself to a higher placement.” You said. “But that’s ok. I just need to overtake the 7 cars in front of me to get to P10 and get into the points. How hard can that be?”

You laughed, your last sentence meaning to be a joke. Logan let out a small chuckle, but he was taking what you said seriously.

“I think you can do it. But only do it after I’ve overtaken a couple cars myself. I’d also like to get some points during the race.” He said.

“Deal!”

~~~

It was officially race day and your nerves seemed to be bouncing as fast as the cars that would be on track soon. You had felt confident throughout the week, being on the track and going over data with the team. But with the race starting in a couple hours, the fact that you were about to debut in your first Formula One race was starting to become very real.

“You squeeze that water bottle any tighter, it’s gonna explode.” You were brought out of your spiraling thoughts by Logan as he approached you from the side. Looking down, you did see that the water bottle you were holding was almost ready to burst from the steel grip you had on it.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking about the race today.” You said, loosening your grip on the bottle.

In a similar scenario to pre-season testing, the two of you were waiting to start the drivers parade.

“It’s ok to be nervous about your first race. Every driver is.” He said.

“What if I crash the car?” You asked. Logan shook his head.

“You won’t.”

“What if I can’t overtake any cars and finish last?”

“You won’t finish last.”

“What if-”

“Hey.” Logan placed his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him. “You’re going to be fine. You drove well during testing and practice. You can overtake the cars in front of you. And even if you finish last, so what? It’s your first race. You’re going to make mistakes and that’s ok.” Logan said. His hands on your shoulder and the speech he just gave you seemed to steel your nervous a bit as you took in what he said.

“Just try to have fun. Can you promise me that?” Logan asked. He held up his pinkie and you almost laughed at the childlike implications. But the serious look on Logan’s face stopped you. You linked your pinkie with his and nodded.

“I promise.”

The two of you ended up staying next to each other during the drivers parade, waving to fans as the truck drove by. Interviews were also happening during the parade, and with you being the new rookie, you had to be interviewed.

“So (Y/N), you're about to make your Formula 1 debut in your first Formula 1 race. How are you feeling?” The interviewer asked.

“I’m both very nervous and very excited. I’m starting at the back of the grid, but I’m gonna try to do my best.” You said.

“I know, with being the newest addition to the grid, you may feel like you stand out. Besides your teammate Yuki, have there been any other drivers that you’ve gotten to know during pre-season testing or this weekend?”.

“Logan actually introduced himself to me during pre-season testing and we’ve gotten to know each other a bit.” You told the interviewer. “It feels a bit intimidating being surrounded by these great drivers that I’ve always hoped to have a chance to drive alongside, so I’m really grateful to Logan for being someone on the grid that I can talk to and get to know, besides Yuki of course.”

“Have you guys talked about anything in particular? Any expectations for your first race?”

“Logan actually gave me a really good pep talk before the drivers parade. It really helped calm my nerves down a bit. I’m gonna take Logan’s advice and try to have fun.” You said with a smile. The interviewer thanked you for your time and moved on to interview a different driver as you made your way back over to Logan. After waving to a bunch of fans, the parade concluded and you and the rest of the drivers got off the truck.

“What are you going to do during this race?” Logan asked you before the two of you departed to get ready for the race.

“Have fun!” You said.

“That’s right.” He gave your shoulder a reassuring pat and left for the William’s garage while you headed back to RB, your nerves seemingly having lessened.

Logan’s pep talk seemed to be exactly what you needed. You ended up finishing the race in P11, just out of the points but only two spots behind Yuki.

“(Y/N) that was a fantastic first race! Well done!” Your engineer's voice came through the radio as you waved while driving around the track.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much! That was so much fun! I couldn’t have done it without you or the team!” You said enthusiastically as you pulled into parc ferme. You sat in the car for a couple seconds, taking in the feeling of making it through your first Formula One race. Then, you took the wheel out and stepped out of the car.

Some of the pit crew workers gave you pats on the back or the shoulder, congratulating you on making it through your first race. As your eyes scanned the pit lane, looking for your team, they landed on the familiar America-decorated helmet of Logan.

“Logan!” You called as you jogged over to him. His eyes lit up at your approach and met you halfway.

“Nice one champ! P11 on debut!” He said, raising his hand for a high five before bringing you in for a brief congratulatory hug.

“I was so close to getting into points but I couldn’t catch up. You drove amazingly though! Congrats on P5!” You told him.

“Hey, don’t put yourself down for being “just” out of the points. Next race, you and I are going to be in the top 10.” He said. “Did you have fun?”

“Yea!” You exclaimed. Both your smiles seemed to grow.

“I told you! Come on, let’s go get weighed and you can tell me everything about the race.” Logan slung his arm over your shoulder as he led you over to the weigh stations.

The two of you spent the rest of the night recounting each of your guys' events of the race, every overtake and every mistake either of you made. Eventually exhaustion started to hit both of you and the two of you decided to head back to your hotel rooms.

“Thank you.” You said to Logan as you stood infront of your room after Logan offered to walk you back.

“For what?” He asked.

“For introducing yourself to me during pre-season testing. I honestly didn’t think I would be able to get to know anyone on the grid this season. All the other drivers seem to know each other really well or are just really intimidating.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers for a bit before looking back up at him “But I’m really glad to say that you're the first friend I’ve made on the grid.”

Logan’s smile seemed to lower and you grew concerned. But he noticed this and quickly change his expression to reassurance.

“I know how hard it is to make friends in this sport and I also know how isolating it can be. I didn’t want what happened in my rookie season to happen to you.” He told you. “I’m glad that you’re my friend too.”

You smiled, touched by what he said and happy that he considered you a friend as well. You held up your pinkie towards him.

“Promise that we’ll both be in the points next race?”

He linked your pinkie with his and matched your smile.

“I promise.”

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargent x reader #platonic grid x reader

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