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theonottsbxtch · 1 month ago

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MISS YOU BABY | MV1

an: i need a hug from max verstappen stat, based off this request! thank you for sending it :)

summary: max thought his girlfriend was missing his final race during his triple header, little did he know she'd planned to come and visit all along.

wc 3.6k

The hotel room she was in was quiet.

She sat cross-legged on the bed in a dark hotel room that mirrored his, only three floors below, making sure he couldn’t see her surroundings. Her phone was propped up against a pillow, and Max’s face filled the screen, his hair still damp from the shower, tousled and messy. He looked worn-out but managed a small, tired smile just for her.

"I’m sorry, Max. I really tried to get time off, but there was just… no way," she said, the fib slipping from her lips with surprising ease. "I wanted to be there with you. Especially now."

Max exhaled, leaning back against his headboard. “I know. It’s alright.” His voice softened. “I just miss you, is all. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek, wishing she could reach through the screen and wrap her arms around him. "You’ll get through it, though. You always do."

"Doesn’t feel that way." He laughed, but it was brittle around the edges. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you.” His eyes searched the screen, as if he might find a solution hidden somewhere in her gaze.

"Never me." She leaned closer, her face so near to the camera that she could see her reflection in his eyes. "I’m so proud of you, Max. Always. No matter what."

For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression softening, and the tension she’d seen in his face for days seemed to melt, just a little. "I wish you were here," he murmured. "I swear, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes."

She swallowed, feeling her heart pull toward him with a force that was hard to resist. "Soon, I’ll be back with you. Just… hold on a bit longer, okay?”

She gazed at his face on the screen, her heart swelling as she watched the way his eyes softened every time he looked at her. She knew he was tired and worn down, but in this moment, he looked at peace.

"I love you, Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, and when he opened them again, there was a warmth there that seemed to cut through the miles between them. "I love you, too," he replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than you know."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling her cheeks flush, and nodded. "Get some sleep, alright? Big day tomorrow."

He grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You, too. Dream about me, okay?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart skipped all the same. "Always. Goodnight, Max."

"Goodnight, love."

With a final smile, she ended the call, letting the screen go dark as she leaned back into the pillows, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She’d hardly been able to sleep on the plane ride here, and she could already tell tonight would be the same.

Still, the thought of finally seeing him in person tomorrow kept her too giddy to care. She’d surprise him at the track, slipping through the garage just as he arrived, or maybe even at breakfast if she could manage it without spoiling the surprise. Her mind spun with ideas, each more elaborate than the last, but all she really wanted was to see his face light up when he realised she was there.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, she let her eyes drift closed, replaying the moment over and over in her mind, savouring the thought of his reaction. She loved him fiercely, and she knew that being here—no matter how much of a secret she’d had to make it—was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As she finally began to drift off, her last thought was simple but bright, shining like a promise: Tomorrow, he’ll know.

And while she was glad she held onto the secret.

The following morning she wished she’d told him earlier.

She woke to the faint glow of her phone on the nightstand, her morning alarm. Blinking herself awake, she squinted at the screen and saw Max’s name, followed by the time—5:02 a.m.

Heading to the track early today. Miss you already, wish you were here.

She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through her chest. But then her heart sank a little. She’d been hoping to catch him in the hotel this morning, maybe surprise him over breakfast. Now, with him already gone, she'd have to adjust her plans.

Throwing back the covers, she got up and went to the window. Rain streaked down the glass in thick, heavy drops, and the sky was a murky grey. The weather was only supposed to get worse throughout the day; she knew that’d make things complicated, especially for an outdoor track. She had no clue if her surprise would even be worth the stress of navigating the drenched, crowded paddock.

After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached the name she wanted. She dialled, and after a few rings, Max’s assistant, Sophie, picked up.

“Hey!” Sophie greeted, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What’s up? Did you make it in?”

“Yes, I’m here!” she whispered, unable to contain her excitement. “I wanted to surprise him before he heads out on track, but with this rain… do you think I should even bother?”

Sophie sighed sympathetically. “Honestly, it’s a mess out here. They’re saying the rain’s going to be even heavier by the time qualifying starts. He’ll be in back-to-back meetings until then, and I’d hate for you to sit in the rain, just to get a few minutes with him.”

She nodded, glancing out the window at the sheets of rain. “So you think I should wait?”

“I’d say hold off until right before the race,” Sophie replied. “He’ll have a short break, and I think he’d love the surprise then. Plus, everyone’s less frantic between qualifying and race prep.”

“Good point,” she agreed, a little disappointed but knowing Sophie was right. The track on a rainy race day was chaos, and if she could avoid it until the right moment, she’d have a better chance of actually spending time with him. “Thanks, Sophie. Let me know if anything changes?”

“Will do! He’ll be so happy to see you,” Sophie said warmly. “Hang tight, okay?”

As she hung up, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, knowing the surprise would be even more perfect with the wait. So she ordered herself a coffee, sat by the window, and watched the rain pour down, imagining the look on Max’s face when he’d finally see her just before the most important race of the weekend.

The rain hadn’t let up by the time she arrived at the track, the skies dark and moody, the air thick with humidity. She’d navigated her way through security and weaving lines of drenched fans, her heart racing as she got closer to Max’s garage. But by the time she finally made it, he was already in the car, helmet on, visor down, his focus entirely on the track ahead.

Her heart sank a little as she scanned the bustling garage, hoping for some last chance to catch his eye. But he was already strapped in, a crew member leaning in to give him a final check before he rolled out. She spotted Sophie in the corner, scribbling something down on a clipboard, and made her way over to her.

“Hey,” she whispered, feeling the dampness of the rain still clinging to her hair and clothes. “I… I just missed him, didn’t I?”

Sophie looked up and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, he was swamped the moment he got here. They barely had time to get him settled with all the delays.” She gestured to the grid display above them, where Max’s name glowed beside the stark “P17” position. “Rough start, but he’ll be glad to know you’re here.”

She nodded, feeling a pang as she glanced at his car just as it rumbled to life. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, even from a distance she could see the tension there. She let out a breath, feeling a swell of pride and worry all at once. “Well, I’ll be here watching, then.”

Sophie handed her a headset, which she slipped on just in time to hear his engineer’s voice crackle through with the first instructions as they prepared for the start. The rain was relentless, turning the track into a slick, treacherous maze, and she felt her stomach twist as the cars peeled out onto the track for the formation lap. Max’s car trailed near the back, but she knew he’d fight, as he always did, with a ferocity she both admired and feared in moments like this.

The race began, a chaotic blur of spray and metal, the cars kicking up rooster tails of water, visibility nearly zero as they fought for position. She gripped the edge of her seat as the laps ticked by, heart pounding with every close call. It quickly became clear that the conditions were only worsening, drivers struggling to keep their cars on track, a few even skidding off into barriers with loud, bone-jarring crashes. Her hands tightened around the headset as Max navigate his way forward, battling his way to P10, then P6.

And then, just when the tension seemed to reach its peak, there was a deafening crash, followed by a sudden hush as the red flag went up, halting the race.

Her breath caught in her throat. The screen above replayed the incident—a skidding into the barrier that had caused an emergency stop. The seconds felt like hours as she waited, desperately searching for a glimpse of his car on the feed. Finally, there it was, intact, safe. Relief flooded her, and she felt her shoulders sag.

The race restarted after the delay, and she watched in awe as Max took advantage of the reshuffled positions and tire changes, surging forward with a newfound intensity. Lap by lap, he clawed his way through the field, passing car after car with a precision that made her heart race. It was as if he’d transformed, harnessing every ounce of his frustration from the last few races, channelling it into something extraordinary.

The garage erupted in cheers as he moved into P3, then P1. She stared at the screen, hardly daring to blink, her heart racing as he crossed the finish line in first place, drenched in rain and glory.

She could hardly believe it. From P17 to P1. He’d done it.

Forgetting herself, she laughed, a sound of pure joy, her heart swelling as she watched him slow down, the victory finally sinking in. She couldn't wait to see his face when he finally realised she was here, to be the first person he’d see when he stepped out of that car, soaked and grinning, finally at the top.

Ripping her headset off, she followed the crew as they ran out to parc fermé, her heart racing as fast as the roar of the crowd. The team, buzzing with excitement, parted slightly as she joined them, nudging her to the front so she’d be the first face he saw. She could barely breathe as she caught sight of Max’s car, now still, the rain glistening on its blue-and-red bodywork.

With all the force he had he climbed out, pulling off his helmet to reveal damp, messy hair and a face lit up with exhilaration and disbelief. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the shouts of the crowd and the blinding flashes of cameras. And then, his gaze landed on her.

His eyes widened, his exhaustion and surprise giving way to pure joy. Without hesitation, he broke into a run, crossing the slick tarmac with the kind of speed and determination that made her heart leap. She barely had a second to react before he wrapped her in his arms, his lips crashing against hers as he pulled her close, his hands pressed firmly against her back, as if he still couldn’t believe she was real.

“You came,” he murmured breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at her, his face filled with awe and happiness.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion, brushing a wet strand of hair from his face.

He smiled, a bright, unguarded smile that melted her heart. “God, I needed this. I needed you.”

And then he kissed her again, a kiss filled with all the missed moments and the words they hadn’t been able to say, the thrill of his victory mingling with the fierce love they shared. She felt the rain soak through her clothes, the crowd and the noise around them fading as they held each other, his arms wrapping around her as if he could protect her from the rest of the world.

“I still can’t believe it,” he whispered against her lips, his forehead resting against hers, his hand gently brushing her cheek. “P1. And you’re here.”

She laughed softly, her eyes shining. “You deserve it, Max. I knew you could do it.”

He held her close, a triumphant laugh bubbling from his chest as he buried his face in her neck, and they stood there in the pouring rain, lost in each other, savouring the victory and this long-awaited moment they both knew they’d never forget.

As the noise of the cheering crew and fans started to swell around them, Max pulled back slightly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, his gaze lingering on her face as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“I have to go,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “The interviews, cool-down room, podium… but wait for me? I’ll meet you in my driver’s room as soon as I can.”

She nodded, understanding but already missing the warmth of his arms. “I’ll be waiting. Go,” she whispered, giving him a small smile. “Enjoy every second—you deserve it.”

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her forehead, then turned and jogged off to join the waiting crew, helmet in hand, while she stayed rooted to her spot, watching him disappear into the crowd. Her heart swelled with pride as she trailed after the team to watch his interviews, his beaming, breathless face glowing with pride and energy as he spoke about the gruelling conditions and the unbelievable climb from P17 to P1.

Then came the cool-down room, where she watched from the sidelines as he bantered with the other drivers, sharing exhausted smiles and congratulatory claps on the back, the weight of his achievement settling in as he finally let himself relax a little. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling as though she could burst with joy just watching him, his eyes sparking with energy even as he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion.

And finally, the podium. She felt the crowd’s excitement echo through her as she looked up to see him standing tall, drenched from head to toe, a bottle of champagne in hand. When he raised it in victory, the crowd erupted, and she joined them, cheering at the top of her lungs as he sprayed champagne with abandon, laughing as he celebrated with the other drivers. His eyes swept over the crowd, and when they found hers, he gave a subtle nod, a silent promise that he’d be back with her soon.

After the podium, she made her way to his driver’s room, her heart fluttering as she paced the small space, the thrill of the day lingering in every fibre of her being. And then, finally, the door swung open, and there he was.

He looked completely worn out, his hair still damp and messy, his fireproof undersuit clinging to his skin. But his smile was bright, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a soft, exhausted kiss. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her close, the adrenaline and joy from his victory radiating between them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he whispered against her ear, his voice low and hoarse. “Winning today… and having you here with me. It’s everything.”

She brushed a strand of damp hair from his face, smiling as she traced her fingers along his cheek. “You did it, Max. I’m so proud of you.”

He took her hand, pressing it to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. “None of it would mean anything without you,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

She felt her eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his words. “I’m here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always be here.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world slipping away. He stroked her hair, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, as if savouring each moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finally murmured, his voice warm and soft, ��celebrate somewhere a little less chaotic.”

She laughed, nodding. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

They headed back to his hotel, hand in hand, a peaceful quiet settling over them as they left the track behind. Once in the privacy of his suite, he gave her a lingering kiss, then smiled, nodding toward the bathroom. “Give me a few minutes to wash off all the champagne and… probably half the track dust,” he said with a laugh.

She grinned, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the suite a moment later. While he showered, she took the opportunity to pack up her things from her own room, gathering her scattered belongings quickly. The thrill of being close, of finally sharing a space for the night, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tropical heat outside.

By the time she returned, he was out of the shower, towelling off his damp hair, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her standing there with her things. Without a word, he crossed the room and took her bags from her hands, setting them by the closet as he gave her a smile that made her heart skip.

Once they’d both changed into fresh clothes—she’d opted for a simple dress, and he in casual jeans and a loose shirt—they slipped out of the hotel through a side exit, making their way to a tiny, tucked-away Brazilian restaurant that had been recommended. The place was hidden, small enough to be missed by the crowds, with soft, low lighting that created an intimate, cosy atmosphere. A few locals lingered around tables, but they paid little attention to the couple as they took a corner table in the back.

They ordered caipirinhas and he reached across the table to hold her hand, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her skin as they laughed over silly little things, shared stories from the past few weeks, and spoke of things beyond racing, beyond work, just slipping back into the easy flow they always shared. The food was rich and delicious—small plates of feijoada, grilled meats, and pão de queijo—everything flavorful and homey.

He leaned across the table, his eyes warm and filled with that familiar spark, as he watched her speak, clearly savouring every moment. “You know,” he said softly, “I think this is the best victory celebration I’ve ever had.”

She squeezed his hand, smiling back at him. “Same here. I missed just… being with you like this.”

They stayed until the restaurant closed, lingering over the last bites of dessert, letting the night stretch out as long as possible. Eventually, they headed back to the hotel, the city streets now quiet and still beneath the soft hum of streetlights.

Once back in his room, Max changed into a pair of soft pyjama bottoms, leaving his chest bare, his skin still warm from the shower. She slipped into one of his t-shirts, the fabric soft and oversized, the scent of him comforting and familiar. When she stepped out the bathroom, he was already waiting for her by the bed, his gaze softening as he took her in, a gentle smile curving on his lips.

Without a word, he reached for her, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her close, guiding her to the bed. She sank into the mattress beside him, and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her against his chest, his fingertips trailing absently over her shoulder. She nestled into him, feeling his warmth seep through her, a cosy silence wrapping around them.

They lay there, tangled together, her head tucked beneath his chin as he gently traced circles on her back, his breath even and steady. He tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers for a quiet moment before he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, filled with a tenderness that said everything words couldn’t. She kissed him back just as gently, savouring the intimacy of being close like this, the world beyond these walls feeling miles away.

When the kiss ended, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft sigh escaping as he held her close, one hand settling over hers, fingers intertwined. They stayed that way, her head resting against his heartbeat, lulled by the steady rhythm.

Finally, they drifted off, still tangled in each other’s arms, wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of just being together. As the night settled around them, Max couldn’t help but smile, holding her a little closer as he slipped into sleep, his heart full and light.

Max couldn’t have wished for a better weekend.

the end.

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muxshwriting · 17 days ago

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coming home

Max Verstappen x reader

summary: max makes the decision no one thought he actually would. and he made the decision for you || word count: 950 || masterlist

You’re screaming as Max crosses the line. Yes, it’s P5 but it’s a championship secured. The team around you erupts as their dreams come true. There was a huge sense of anticipation as you ran through the pit lane towards parc ferme and towards him. You watch as he jumps out of the car with a weight visibly off his shoulders. He runs towards you, not a glance at anyone else.

“I’m so proud of you!” You’re shouting over the noise of the crowd but Max only hears you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you Schatz. For a second I didn’t think I would.”

“You made it. You won.”

He tears his helmet off, crashing his lips into yours and he finds himself home. The rest of the night is a blur as you watch Max receive his well earned celebrations for a season hard-fought. There’s nothing that could sour yours or his mood as the night burns on and Max goes from interview to interview, waiting for the time he can drink so much he forgets.

“Max, congratulations on the championship win. Would you like to speak about how much this means to you after this year?”

Max rubs a hand through his hair and adjusts his hat, a nervous tick he’d always had as he brought the microphone to his jaw. “Yeah. This championship means a lot because we weren’t sure it was going to happen earlier in the season. Of course it wouldn’t have been possible without my amazing team working so hard to make the car as good as it could be. It’s the people around us who push us to be the best versions of ourselves.”

Max can’t hope to get away sooner, to his team waiting to celebrate and to you. There’s always a choice in the back of his mind that tells him to abandon everything and run for the hills with you. Except this time, with the championship tucked in his belt, he’s not sure what’s stopping him anymore.

The triple header came to a close in Abu Dhabi, Max closing his season out with a glorious win but there’s a feeling in your gut that tells you Max is going to say it. You’d discussed his retirement before, and you’d always tried to persuade him to stick out his contract. You would tell him that you both had time to live your lives after his career. The last thing you wanted was for Max to throw his dream away for you.

A champagne-drenched Max finds you after the podium hiding in his driver’s room. “You’re going to announce it, aren’t you?” You quietly ask, not wanting to ruin the joy but needing an answer.

Max grinned, stripping his race suit from his body. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me.”

“Then you know I am.”

“Max-“

He calms your worries with a simple declaration. “I love you. I know this is what I want. I’ve had my time, I don’t need anything more than you.”

You bite back the sting of tears and pull Max into a hug, pressing your lips against his.

“Is that a yes?” He whispers to you. “You’re okay with this?”

”Yes. I love you.”

With a kiss to his cheek, you send him to the hounds of journalists in the press conference and promise you’ll be right here when he’s done. It takes a moment for the right time to arise but when Max is asked a question about his hopes for the future, he only knows one answer.

“The future? My future? I’m retiring from formula one... effective immediately. I will be taking no more questions at this time. Thank you.”

And with that, Max put down his microphone. He stood and carefully removed his red bull hat and took a moment to simply look before he placed it where he had been sitting. He ignored the journalists practically screaming at him and the cameras that sounded like static. Without a word, he walked out of the door and promised himself he would never return.

The second he walks out of the door, your arms are wrapped around him and he falls into your embrace. Your words flow through him without being absorbed as he remembers and realises exactly what he’s done. A part of him will miss this life but most of his heart is grateful he stopped before it consumed his very being.

He had proved himself, set records for the ages and done what any formula one driver aims to do: win championships. Was it so unfair to want a different life than the one he had grown into? Was it so unfair to want that perfect family with a beachfront penthouse in Monaco or even a country home in the Netherlands? A house that always had spare bedrooms for guests to drop by, a house with love radiating from its walls and beauty running through it’s floors. Was it so unfair to want that before life slipped past him and he was a 40-year-old driving for a bottom ranking team trying to keep the dream alive?

But Max had a different dream now, a dream nothing could stop him from achieving.

Four years later, that dream is most certainly in progress as you sit in the window of that Dutch country home watching Max as he runs after your eldest daughter. There’s a babe in your arms and a feeling that nothing will ever be as perfect as this. There have been no regrets about leaving racing and no regrets about leaving that whole world behind.

Who knows what the future will bring? That’s the best part, it’s your future.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #muxsh #muxshwriting #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #abu dhabi 2024

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mountsmase · 4 months ago

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I’m Yours

a/n : hi!! I can’t believe I’m finally posting this fic! I’ve had this concept sat in my drafts since March and I went through a bit of a hard time with writing but I’ve now turned this idea into something that I’m really proud of 🥹 this is the first time I’ve attempted to write something where the reader and Mase aren’t already in an established relationship, so I really hope that I did it justice and that you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!! These two are my babies 🥺 I really hope you enjoy ❤️ feedback is appreciated as always 🫶🏻 (also it’s my first time trying an actual header so please let me know what you think)

word count: 14k +

genre: fluff and smut

“There you are”

The deep rumble of your best friends voice startles you, his suit clad body brushing against the bare skin of your arm as he appears next to you.

Mason pulls out the chair beside your own, sitting down with you in the secluded corner of the crowded room.

The Together for Short Lives gala is well and truly underway, the large ballroom decorated in elegant black and gold furnishings as people talk amongst themselves around the room. It’s packed, an amazing turn out for such a meaningful event.

The evening so far has been nothing short of special, with a dinner followed by an auction, all of the money going to an amazing cause. Your heart filled with pride watching Mason up on the stage and you’re so grateful that he chose to share this night with you.

“You disappeared on me” Mason pouts, glancing down at the cocktail you’re holding in your hands before taking it from you and lifting it to his lips.

He takes a sip and you giggle at the face he pulls as he clearly didn’t enjoying the sweet tasting drink as much as he thought he would.

“Sorry, I just went to get another drink and then I couldn’t find you” You tell him, taking your glass back when he offers it to you.

“You should’ve called me, I’d of come to find you” He replies, and you try to ignore the way your tummy flutters at his words.

“I know you would’ve, but I can handle being alone for a bit, I’m a big girl”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes when you look up at him.

“But what if I wanted to come and find you?”

“Well you’re here now, so it couldn’t of been that difficult” You grin, watching as he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and you’re briefly distracted when he reaches up to adjust his tie.

You and Mason have been friends for as long as you can remember.

Your dads used to work together when they were younger and they always had a close relationship both in and out of work, which led to your families becoming close as well. Your mums became inseparable when they were introduced, and a few years later, when you and Mason were born only a few months apart, you naturally became inseparable too.

You grew up together, your parents keeping you close despite the fact that you attended two different schools, and as you got older, your bond only grew stronger.

Some of your best memories are with Mason, you’d stay the weekend at each others houses, spend long afternoons doing homework together before playing in the garden, and there were even a few summers where your families had joint holidays.

It was the two of you against the world, and it had always been that way.

That is until his football career started to take off. You were so proud of him. Your friend was playing for one of the best clubs in the England and you were over the moon to see him doing so well.

But, it unfortunately meant that he became busier and was spending more and more time in London and away from Portsmouth. You tried your best to stay in touch, messaging all the time and video calling when you eventually got phones, but you can’t deny that it was hard not having him around anymore.

Things only started to get difficult when he went on loan to Vitesse when you were 18. It was harder to keep contact with him being away and being so focussed on football, but you’d never blame him for the fact you drifted apart.

You were in college at the time, spending any available minuet that you had on your classes, making sure you could pass your exams and get into the uni you’d always dreamed of attending.

It was difficult, you couldn’t be there for each other as much as you’d of liked to be, and as much as you’d both tried your hardest to stop it, it started becoming harder and harder as time went on.

You’d only see each other at family events like birthdays and weddings and it got to the point where you’d only talk once every few months or so. Even when he came back to the UK and was living in Cobham, you’d video call to catch up and then not speak to each other again for weeks unless you had something specific to talk about.

It was all part of growing up though. He was still one of your best friends, someone you knew you could trust and could call if you ever needed anything, and you were the same to him.

You both became increasingly busy, especially when he began playing for the first team and you were going through university, so it made sense that it became harder to make time for each other.

But, last year, it all changed.

After graduating from university and receiving your degree three years ago, you were presented with an amazing job opportunity in Manchester, which you just couldn’t say no to. It was a big change for you, moving somewhere so far away from home and having to start a new life in a new city, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You’re doing amazing at work, having received a promotion not even two years after joining your company, and you’ve got a cute little apartment that you’ve well and truly made your own.

You really didn’t think it could get much better, but you were proved wrong when Mason transferred to Man United last summer.

After a lot of uncertainty surrounding his career, Mason was relived to finally know who he would be playing for next season and was excited to start his new life up in Manchester.

You were one of the only people he knew in the city, and when he reached out, you offered for him to stay in your spare bedroom whilst he settled in and found a place to call his own.

He obviously took you up on your offer, loving the extra time he got to spend with you and the familiarity that came with being in your presence.

You had the best month living together. It was like you’d never been apart, all of those years of having distance between you forgotten. You’d cook dinner together, have movie nights, talk to each other after you’d had a bad day at training or work and even after he moved out and into his new home, you still spent as much time together as possible.

You had your best friend back, and you had truly never felt happier.

Now, fast forward 8 months, and you’re questioning if that’s really all you are anymore.

You’ve always known that Mason is an attractive guy. I mean, how could you not? He’s gorgeous.

But recently that attraction has grown deeper. And not only in a physical way.

The last couple of months have been filled with lingering touches and longing gazes, the line between friendship and something more slowly becoming blurred.

He’s no longer just Mason, your best friend, but he’s Mason, the guy you think, sorry, know that you’re in love with.

Mason is one of the few people who treats you like you’re somebody. He makes you feel like the most special girl in the world without even trying and you’ve had to remind yourself one too many times recently that there’s nothing more going on between you.

You haven’t mentioned your feelings to him because you’re scared. Scared of loosing him and ruining what is such an important friendship to you. Scared that you aren’t enough for him.

You didn’t have the best experience in your last relationship, and you know deep down that Mason would never treat you the way he did and that there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. You’re a pretty girl who has good morals and a good head on your shoulders.

But, the fear that you’re not good enough - that you wouldn’t be able to give him what he wants and needs - still clouds your mind, and it’s one of the reasons why you won’t admit anything to him.

And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? After the last couple of months you know deep down that he could, but the last thing you want is to throw away your friendship over it.

You just can’t ignore the growing tension between the two of you.

But…neither can he.

Mason has felt for a long time that there’s no one else for him but you, and his feelings for you just grew stronger after moving to Manchester.

You took him in and made him feel at home in a city where mostly everything was new to him, supported him through a tough transition period, and after moving out of your spare bedroom he found himself craving your company more than anyone else’s.

You feel like home to him.

Tough day at training? He wants to see you. He saw something funny on TikTok? It’s you he wants to send it to you. He burnt his toast that morning? He wants to tell you. You’re at the forefront of his mind all the time.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever set his eyes on, both inside and out. You’ve got a heart of gold and he would do anything in his power to protect you from the harsh reality’s of the world. You’re the most important person to him, he just wants to make you happy and see you smiling all the time.

This tension that’s been building between you recently has been killing him, and as much as he worries that you won’t feel the same way, he doesn’t think he can hold in his feelings much longer.

There’s been too many moments where he’s had to stop himself from leaning in and claiming your lips with his own, and it’s been becoming harder and harder to restrain himself.

Especially tonight.

He’d invited you to join him and Lewis as a plus one to the black tie gala, wanting to experience the evening with you and share something that’s always been so special to him.

When you stepped out of the lift earlier in the evening, his heart soared at the sight of you in your floor length gown. You left him speechless, and he’s not been able to take his eyes off of you ever since.

The black material hugs your body in all of the right places, perfectly contrasting against your tanned skin. You’ve matched it with a pair of strappy heals and silver jewellery, going for a simple yet elegant look.

There’s a slit down the left side, starting at your upper thigh, and the sight of your leg poking out from underneath the satin fabric has Mason’s mind wandering to places that he knows it shouldn’t.

You look absolutely stunning, and he’s been struggling to hold himself back all evening.

He’s found his attention drifting to you through out the night, more often than not becoming distracted from whatever conversation he’s having to admire you, and he’d quickly become captivated by your presence.

Sitting next to you now is no different, he can’t help but let his eyes drift down your body and your cheeks heat when you notice his wandering gaze.

There’s a look of longing in his eyes, one you’ve become familiar with, but until tonight you’ve always thought that you’ve been imagining it.

“You need to stop looking at me like that, Mase”

The sound of your soft voice has his attention snapping away from your body, and your heart skips a beat when his warm brown eyes find yours.

His cheeks flush from being caught, but his confidence doesn’t falter.

“Yeah? And what are you going to do if I don’t?” He whispers, loud enough for only you to hear and the teasing smirk that finds his lips has your heart racing in your chest.

You’re overcome by a wave of shyness, any response that you may have had dying in your throat as he shuffles closer to you, his knee nudging into yours under the table.

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, but the urge to touch you suddenly becomes too much to ignore. He finds himself reaching out, his warm palm landing against your exposed thigh as his other arm snakes behind you, resting against the back of your chair. Your skin burns under his touch, breath hitching in your throat when his thumb rubs in tender circles over the inside of your thigh.

Mason has always been a touchy person, you’ve seen and experienced it over your years of friendship, but there’s something about the way he’s touching you now that has your head spinning.

His hand ventures a little higher and you fumble to open your purse, pulling out your lipgloss and phone in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you’ve avoided his question when you open the camera app, using it as a makeshift mirror to reapply the gloss.

He watches as you swipe the applicator over your pink, plump lips, the action captivating him and it takes all of his self restraint to not lean in and kiss you right there and then.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Bambi”

You pop the lid back onto the tube and place it back into your purse - your distraction techniques having been unsuccessful - and look up and into his eyes.

The whispered compliment has butterflies erupting in your tummy, your lips tugging up into a smile upon hearing the nickname he’s always used for you.

It started when you were 10, you always loved the movie and had invited him over to watch it with you after school one day. About half way through you stood up to go and find more popcorn but being your clumsy self you’d ended up tripping over your own feet.

Mase took the opportunity to compare your clumsiness to that of the deer, and at first he used the nickname as a joke, but then it stuck, and now, even in your twenties he still liked to use it. And you love to hear it.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Masey” you tell him, letting your gaze drop briefly and you take allow yourself a moment to admire him.

Mason is handsome even on his worst days - you’re convinced that he could wear the ugliest outfit ever and somehow still pull it off - but there something about the way he looks tonight that has you breathless.

The suit he’s wearing is simple - perfect for a black tie event. A white shirt with a black jacket and trousers, a matching tie and some dress shoes to complete the look. The chest strap that he wore earlier in the evening has been abandoned, the jacket now undone allowing for more of a relaxed look as the evening goes on.

His hair is freshly trimmed, styled into a short quiff and his facial hair is neat, more of a long stubble than a full beard. The lighting in the room is dim, but you can still make out all of his features, the freckles that are dotted over his cheeks, his long lashes and the dimple that appears whenever he smiles. He’s utterly breathtaking.

“Remind me to thank whoever tailored this suit for you” You smile, gaze locking onto his again as you reach up, smoothing your hands over the lapels of his jacket.

“You like it?”

“I love it, you look so handsome” you let your hands drop back into your lap and he misses your touch immediately.

“Yeah?” His voice is barely above a whisper and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you nod gently.

You feel his arm move from behind you as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment before brushing down your jaw and you become hyper-aware of how close you are when you feel his breath fanning over your cheek.

It feels as though the air around you has suddenly shifted, his gaze swimming with an emotion that you can’t quite place. The intense eye contact becomes too much for you, your eyes momentarily dropping to his chest but he brings them back to his with a hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so that you have no choice but to look at him.

His gaze drops to your lips, once, twice, and a third time, until the desire to feel them against his own becomes too overwhelming. He’s leaning in before he has a chance to stop himself, the lack of hesitation in your eyes only urging him on until someone clears their throat behind you.

“Hey guys” Lewis’ voice snaps you and Mason back to reality, the room around you coming back into focus.

His presence causes Mason to jump away from you, an unwelcome chill touching your skin where his hand no longer rests against your thigh. He groans in annoyance and turns towards his brother.

You release the breath you never realised you were holding, clearing your throat and fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress as Mason looks up at Lewis expectantly.

If he saw anything, he doesn’t let it show.

“Sorry Mase, there’s a few people asking for you”

Mason nods politely, standing up before turning to hold a hand out for you.

“You coming?” He asks, acting as though nothing happened - that he hasn’t just nearly kissed you.

It takes you a few more seconds to regain your composure, blinking up at him a few times before eventually nodding and taking his outstretched hand.

He helps you up, waiting until Lewis has turned away to lift your joint hands to his lips. He places a quick kiss to your knuckles, sending you a soft smile before letting them drop between you again and he doesn’t let go as you follow him through the crowd, fingers still intertwined as Lewis introduces you to an older man who you recognise as one of the event organisers.

You try your best to focus on the conversations that are happening in front of you. You really do.

But it’s hard to concentrate with Mason’s fingers still tangled with yours and the thought of what could’ve happened had Lewis not interrupted you a few moments ago.

That’s the second time you’ve almost kissed him. The first being a few weeks ago when he’d invited you and a few of your other friends over for a games night.

You’d gotten to Mason’s a little earlier than everyone else, wanting to spend a bit of extra time with him before the others arrived and you were in the kitchen, helping him find some snacks and drinks when your favourite song had come on shuffle through the speakers.

One thing led to another and you were dancing around the kitchen, singing your little heart out as Mason stood back and watched you, giggling at your terrible dance moves.

As the song went on you got a little more into it, accidentally crashing into him after tripping over your own feet and he’d reached out to steady you, the two of you laughing together as you found your footing and rested against his chest.

Your laughter had slowly died down, the air around you thickening as you looked up to find him already gazing down at you. The warm look in his eyes could only be described as endearment and what happened next was a bit of blur.

He was leaning in when the door bell went off, the others arriving at the worst time and ruining the moment without even realising.

You’ve thought about it every day since, wondering what could’ve been, and now here you are weeks later, still asking yourself the same questions.

You’re brought back to the present moment when Mason squeezes your hand, dragging your attention back to the conversation happening in front of you.

“You okay?” He mumbles close to your ear, hand letting go of yours to instead wrap around your waist and you melt into his warmth as he tugs you closer.

You nod, sending him a smile that says you’re cool, calm and collected, but it’s as much of a facade as it can be when inside you’re feeling the complete opposite.

“How about one more drink and then we head back to the hotel?” Mason suggests a few hours later, glancing down to his watch and noticing that it’s nearing 11pm.

“You guys go ahead, I’m going to go and talk to a few more people and then I’ll come and find you guys” Lewis tells you before heading to the other side of the room and you follow Mason over to the bar.

“Water?” Mason asks, voice low as you approach counter.

He knows you’re not the biggest drinker, only ever choosing to have one or two drinks when you go out, and you’ve already had a cocktail and a glass of wine with your dinner.

“Please” You smile, glancing over to him as he orders and pays for your drinks.

“Sorry mate, any chance we can grab a straw please?” Mason asks the bar tender when he places your water down in front of you, and you feel your cheeks warm at the simple gesture. You’ve always preferred drinking with straws, some people may think it’s weird, but to Mason it’s just one of the many things he loves about you.

You thank him as he slides the glass towards you, watching as he takes the paper wrapped straw from the bartender with a cheeky grin. He tears off the end of the wrapper, bringing the exposed end of the straw to his lips and you could predict what he was about to do from a mile off, but it still makes you jump when he blows on the straw, sending the paper flying and he laughs as it hits your cheek before landing on the counter next to you.

“Mason” You groan playfully, shaking your head at his childish behaviour. Still, you can’t help but laugh with him, and his heart soars at the sound.

It’s not long later that you’re leaving the venue after finishing your drinks and saying your goodbyes, stepping out into the chilly evening air as Lewis steps aside to call a taxi.

“Did you have a good night?” Mason asks, coming to stand beside you.

A gust of wind ruffles his hair, a couple of strands falling onto his forehead and you have to fight the urge to reach up and brush them away for him.

“Yeah I did, thank you for inviting me, it was special” you smile up at him, rubbing your palms against your bare arms in an attempt to keep warm when the wind picks up. The temperature has dropped significantly since earlier in the evening, and you’re now regretting your choice to not bring a second layer with you.

Mason doesn’t hesitate to slip off his suit jacket when he notices you shivering, slipping it over your shoulders before you can protest. You snuggle into it’s warmth, breathing in the scent of his cologne that still lingers on the fabric.

“Better?” He murmurs, making sure its wrapped around you enough before draping an arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you” You nod, melting into his side when he gently tugs you towards him.

The wait for the taxi isn’t too long, and you stay snuggled up to Mason’s side as he chats away to Lewis about your plans for getting back to Manchester tomorrow. You don’t pay any attention to their conversation though, too busy focussing on his little touches to listen to what they’re saying.

He holds you close, absentmindedly tracing patterns into your shoulder through the material of his jacket. You’re resting against his chest, and it rumbles underneath your cheek whenever he speaks, his soft voice soothing you.

You could stay wrapped up in him forever, but your bubble is popped when the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of you.

Lewis takes the front seat, letting you and Mason sit in the back together and you slide in when he holds the door open for you. He climbs in behind you, pouting as you settle into the far seat rather than the one next to his.

It’s only a short drive back to the hotel, and you spend it in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at Mason every now and then, unable to take your eyes away from him as the street lights shine through the windows, casting a golden glow over his features.

He turns his head suddenly, feeling the heat of your gaze, but you're quick to look away, cheeks blazing when you realise he’s caught you staring.

You start fiddling with your rings, one of the telltale signs that you’re nervous, but a warm hand intertwines with yours, stopping your fidgeting. Mason is already looking at you when you glance up at him, and your heart soars at the gentle look in his eyes. There’s a certain warmth behind them that tells you everything is okay, and you settle back into the seat, sliding your fingers between his and not letting go for the rest of the journey.

Mason is the first out of the car when you pull up in front of your hotel, quickly making his way around to your door before opening it for you and you accept the hand he holds out, letting him help you climb out. He quickly tips and thanks the driver before leading you into the hotel, through the lobby and towards the lifts.

You bid your good nights to Lewis when he steps out on his level, leaving you and Mason alone as the doors close behind him. You settle into another comfortable silence as you continue up to your floor.

The doors slide open and Mason moves aside, letting you step out in front of him before following you down the hall towards your room, wanting to make sure you get back safely.

You stop in front of your door, reaching into your purse to retrieve your room key before turning to thank him for walking you back, but the words get stuck on your tongue, not quite feeling ready to say goodnight to him yet.

“Stay with me tonight?” You whisper, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that has somehow been set in the hallway, “we can order room service and watch something, just like we do at home”

He doesn’t respond straight away, and for a very brief moment you worry that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but you watch as his gaze softens, and he keeps his voice low as he says “Let me just go and grab a few things from my room and then I’ll be back, yeah?”

“Okay” you nod, watching as he heads back down the hallway before letting yourself into your room.

You feel giddy, buzzing with nervous excitement as you slip Mason’s jacket off and lay it over the back of the chair before busying yourself with tidying a few things away, making the room look a bit more presentable as you’d left it a mess in your rush to leave earlier.

You’re not sure where the sudden jitters have come from, it’s Mason. You’ve always spent nights at each others houses, snuggled on the sofa, talking until late before falling asleep in each others company. But something about tonight feels different.

You don’t have long to dwell on it though, hearing two taps on the door as you put the last few bits back into your suitcase.

His smile is bright as you swing the door open, stepping aside for him to come in and your eyes drop to his chest as he brushes past you. He didn’t bother changing, but his tie is nowhere to be seen, the top few buttons of his shirt now undone and his silver chain - the one that you brought him for his birthday last year - peaks out from underneath the fabric.

You click the door closed behind him, following him into the room and watching as he puts a few things down on the table beside the bed - his charger and what you think is his toothbrush, along with his wallet and a spare change of clothes for the morning.

“So, room service?” He asks, flopping down onto the bed and settling against the headboard.

He makes himself comfortable, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows as you grab the food menu from the desk in front of the TV. Your breath catches in your throat when you turn to face him, your mouth going dry as the dark ink on his forearm steals your attention.

A smirk ghosts his lips upon noticing your brief loss of composure, but he chooses not to bring it up, instead patting the spot next him.

You slip off your heels, putting them to the side before climbing onto the mattress to sit beside him. “How about pizza? I’m not too hungry so maybe we could share?”

“Sounds good, chips as well?” He suggests and you agree, trying to pass him the menu but he doesn’t take it from you, “You choose, I’m not fussed”

You decide on a classic margherita, letting Mason call downstairs to place the order whilst you reach over him and grab the remote from the table next to his side of the bed. He sucks in a sharp breath when your hand falls on his upper thigh, not so innocently steadying yourself as you lean over him. You can’t say that you’d meant to touch him like that, but you won’t pretend that you didn’t love his reaction.

“Sorry” you mumble, cheeks flaming as you sit back and busy yourself with turning on the TV, logging into your Netflix account whilst he takes a deep breath next to you and finishes ordering the food.

You put on an episode of a series that you’ve been watching together, catching each other up on some plans that you have for the next couple of weeks whilst you wait for your food to arrive and you eat in a comfortable silence when it does, Mason letting you have the last slice of pizza like always.

After clearing away the tray and placing it in the hallway, you lock the door behind you and settle back onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side when he lifts his arm for you.

“Thank you for coming with us tonight. I know it’s a long way from home but it means a lot to have you at these things with me” He tells you, a warm feeling spreading through you as he pulls you closer and rests his cheek against the top of your head.

His arm settles around you, holding you at the waist as you rest your head against his shoulder. You sling your arm over his torso, goosebumps erupting over your skin when his free hand comes to rest on your forearm, fingertips tracing over your skin.

“Thank you again for inviting me, and you know I don’t mind” You tell him, tightening your arms around him slightly, “I’d fly to the other side of the world with you if you asked me to”

He chuckles into your hair, his smile widening. “Yeah? Looks like I should ask them to have the next gala in Australia then”

“Yes! You know I’ve always wanted to go and meet Kangaroos”

“It’s a long flight though, you’d have to let me sleep on your shoulder the whole way there”

“Oh,” you pout at him jokingly, “you wouldn’t buy me a business class ticket?”

His fingertips creep up your waist and you giggle, thrashing against him when they tickle over your skin through the material of your dress.

“I’ll take that as a no then” You sigh dramatically, slumping back into his arms when his fingers relent.

“I’d buy you as many business class tickets as you want, Bambi”

Here we go again with the butterflies.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, Mason keeping his arms locked around you as he tries to switch his focus back to the TV, but it’s impossible when you’re cuddled up to him so closely.

There’s something about being in your presence that makes him feel so calm. There’s no need for him to fake anything, no need for him to worry. He can just be ‘Mase’ without any added expectations or anyone analysing his every move. You accept him for him, and he thanks his lucky stars everyday that your parents met all of those years ago because he’s really not sure what he’d do without you.

But tonight he’s nervous. He’s not sure what it is because these feelings for you are by no means new, but after he nearly slipped up and kissed you once earlier, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if it happens again.

He wants you. Physically, emotionally, whatever you’re willing to give him, he’d take it, and tonight might just be the night that he does.

He doesn’t realise that he’s been staring at you until you tilt your head to look up at him, having felt the heat of his gaze.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He whispers, a soft smile sitting on his lips.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as they drop down to your lips, only for a millisecond before returning to your own and your heart rate quickens, a giddy feeling spreading through you.

“Maybe a few times” you tease, lips curling into a smile, “but you can tell me again”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, “You look gorgeous, always the prettiest girl in the room” He tells you, heart thudding in his chest as a shaky hand comes up to cup your jaw.

His nose bumps against yours as he leans closer. His lips are mere inches away, your heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure he can probably hear it.

When you show no signs of hesitation he closes the distance, touching his lips to yours in a tender kiss that you feel all the way from your head down to the tips of your toes.

You feel yourself melting into him as he works his lips over yours with ease, one of his hands cupping your cheek as the other gently pushes against your hip, encouraging you to roll onto your back and your arms wind around his shoulders as he moves to hover over you.

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling of his lips against yours after what feels like an eternity of waiting for this exact moment, your hand weaving into the short strands of hair on the back of his head to hold him to you.

He keeps it soft, your whole body tingling from how gentle he’s being with you as his lips move over yours with a certain tenderness that has you craving more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that” He breathes, forehead resting against yours when you separate to catch your breaths.

His heart flip-flops in his chest at the smile that paints your lips, unable to prevent his own as you gaze up at him with twinkling eyes.

“Then who am I to stop you from doing it again?”

You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to close the distance again, but when he leans forward he brushes a kiss over your cheek instead, a whine leaving you as you try and chase his lips but he only pulls back further.

“I need to know that you definitely want this Y/N” he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks at you, “I know I do, but I’ll never forgive myself if later on you realise that you don’t”

His voice sounds small, the confidence that he exuded earlier slowly fading away, and your heart aches as rest your head back into the pillows to look at him properly.

You slide your hand up from his shoulder, cradling his face in your palm and your heart soars when he leans into your touch.

“Mason, my whole life I’ve known it’s been you” You tell him, gently brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek and a soft smile finds his lips at your words. “I want this, I want you”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything” You whisper, watching as his features relax.

“I might have to change my mind if you don’t kiss me again though”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, not waiting another second before leaning back in.

It’s like someone has flipped a switch, all form of restraint gone as he claims your lips with a searing kiss that has your spine tingling. He coaxes your lips apart, easily slipping his tongue between them and he takes his time to explore your mouth, brushing his tongue over yours with slow, deliberate strokes.

His hand roams down your dress clad body, kneading into your skin through the satin like fabric and you arch your back into his touch, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a desperate attempt to feel him closer. His warm palm slides over your hip, finding the bare skin of your thigh, exposed through the slit of your dress, and he hooks your leg over his waist.

You moan into his mouth as he presses his hips into yours, the sound going straight to his centre and his length twitches in the confines of his boxers.

“You definitely want to do this?” He asks between kisses, his lips leaving yours to move over your cheek and down to your jaw.

You nod, tilting your head back to allow him better access as he trails his kisses down your throat.

“I need your words, Y/N” he urges, pulling back to look at you.

“Yes Mason, please” You plead, just wanting to feel his lips on your skin again.

He doesn’t waste anymore time, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck and you shiver when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, his lips peppering kisses wherever he can reach and you whimper when finds your sweet spot, your sounds only encouraging him.

He sucks on the sensitive spot below your ear, teeth grazing over your skin before soothing the sting with his tongue and then he’s continuing his kisses down your body.

“As much as I love this dress on, I’d much rather it be off right now” he speaks when his kisses meet the neckline of your dress, the material obstructing his path and stopping him from going any further.

You attempt to reach behind you to undo the buttons that hold it together, but you can’t quite reach them, your position on the bed just leading to an awkward tangle of limbs. You huff out a breath, slumping back into the duvet as he watches you, clearly trying to hold himself back from laughing.

You send him an unimpressed glare, trying once more to reach behind but you only end up finding yourself in the same predicament as before.

“Help me” you pout, and he leans down to kiss it away, loosening his hold on your waist before getting off the bed.

“C’mon, jump up” He holds his hands out for you and you take them, letting him pull you up until you’re standing in front of him.

He moves you so that you’re stood with your back to his chest, his hands lightly brushing down your arms and you shiver under his touch, instinctively leaning back into his warmth.

“May I?” He asks softly, his breath tickling over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Y-yeah” you stutter, trying to steady your beating heart as he brushes your hair to one side.

He must notice the way you tense up as he reaches for the buttons, his lips pressing to your shoulder in an attempt to calm you.

“Relax sweetheart, it’s just me” he whispers, and you force yourself to take a deep breath.

But what if that’s the issue? It’s just him, just Mason. The man you’ve loved for years. You’re comfortable in your body, but what if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he changes his mind? What if -

Your thoughts are cut off when he gently takes a hold of your waist, turning you around to face him and you’re met with his soft expression, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He whispers, trying to meet your gaze but you look down, eyes focussing on his chest as a wave of shyness washes over you.

“Hey, look at me” He says, keeping his voice gentle as he brings two fingers to lightly nudge your chin so that you look at him again.

“Sorry, I just…” you begin, and he’s patient with you when you stop to take a few deep breaths, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, it’s just- the last guy I was with like this wasn’t the nicest and he had a fair amount of things to say about my body and - god I’m so sorry” You quickly cut yourself off when you notice you’re rambling, cheeks flaming when you release what you’ve just admitted to him.

Mason feels his heart breaking more and more with every word that leaves your lips. He could never understand how anybody could be so cruel. He feels himself growing angry at the thought of anyone treating you that way and frustrated with himself for not being able to protect you from someone like that.

He knows deep down that there’s nothing he could’ve done to stop it, but you should’ve never had to go through that, and it pains him to know that someone hurt you so deeply.

He doesn’t let his feelings show though, instead making a promise to himself to never, ever, make you feel anything less than beautiful. You deserve so much more and he’s ready to show you just how perfect you are and treat you the way you deserve.

“Listen to me angel, you have nothing to apologise for okay?” his voice is firm, making sure you’re looking right at him before continuing.

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. No one should’ve treated you that way. You deserve so much more baby. You are the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on Y/N, and I need you to know that I’d never treat you like that.” He tells you, cradling your cheeks in his palms as he rests his forehead against yours.

You nod as best as you can, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your smile as his words sink in.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight Y/N, if you don’t want to we can just watch another movie or something, I won’t be upset. All I want is for you to feel comfortable.”

Your nodding quickly turns into you shaking your head instead.

“No Mase, I want to do this. I want you.” You reassure him and he leans back slightly, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead before lowering his hands to your waist again.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course” you tell him, gulping down the nervous lump in your throat and willing your heart rate to slow down.

“Okay, you still want me to take this off?”

His fingers fiddle with the thin straps of your dress as you nod, trying not to seem to eager. “Please”

“Turn around for me then angel”

You do just that, turning around so that your back is facing him again and his touch is gentle, barely there as he reaches up to brush your hair to the side once more. His lips find the nape of your neck, scattering kisses over your skin, and this time you don’t tense up as he reaches for the fabric.

He’s slow in releasing the buttons, his fingers skimming over your now exposed skin as he takes his time, undoing them one by one before finally reaching the last after what feels like a life time. His lips never leave your skin as his hands lift to brush the straps off of your shoulders, guiding the material down your body before dropping it to pool around your ankles.

Left in nothing but a pair of black, lacy panties, it takes all of your strength to turn and face him. He takes you in, allowing his gaze to drift down your body and he feels himself twitch in the confines of his boxers. The sight of you bare in front of him makes his head spin, feeling overwhelmed by the need to reach out and touch you.

“So fucking pretty” he murmurs, his words setting your body alight as his hand slays out on your waist.

There’s a bright look in his eyes as he draws you closer, guiding you to step out of your dress, and you forget why you were ever worried.

“Thank you for trusting me” he whispers against your temple, scattering featherlight kisses there as you lean further into his body.

Wrapping his arms around your waist he trails his kisses down your face, over your cheeks before landing on your lips.

You melt into him, his grip keeping you upright as you kiss him back with everything you have. Your hands creep up his back, one finding its way into his hair as the other clutches onto his shoulder. Nails dig into his skin through the material of his shirt but he doesn’t care, losing himself in the feeling of your lips on his.

Your fingers rake through his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle and his lips part on a gasp when your nails scratch over his scalp. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue between his lips, clashing with his own as you fight to take control.

It’s a little messy, but neither of you care, years of pent up feelings and frustrations being poured into the kiss until the burning desire to please him becomes too strong to ignore.

“You’ve still got way too many clothes on” you complain between kisses and he chuckles against your lips, reaching to unbutton his shirt.

“No, sit” you say, and he falls back onto the edge of the mattress with a gentle push of your hands against his shoulders.

He leans back, gazing up at you through his lashes, watching with dark eyes as you settle into his lap with a new found confidence.

You leave enough space between you to reach up and fiddle with his buttons, undoing them one by one as your lips scatter kisses over his jaw. His pulls you forwards by your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you continue to undress him.

You struggle a little due to how close you are, but you manage to get the last few buttons undone, working the shirt off his shoulders. It gets discarded behind you, joining your dress on the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

His shoulders flex as he leans back on his hands and you take him in, eyes dragging down his chest from the chain that dangles around his neck to the small tattoo that sits high on his ribs, there’s a light dusting of hair on his chest, his muscles softly toned.

You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, but sitting under you now he has you unable to think straight. You have never been so turned on just by looking at someone.

Your need to please him becomes stronger by the second, your mouth having a mind of its own as you trail your kisses down his neck, lighting sucking on his skin until you find his sweet spot. A breathy whine falls from his lips, his fingers digging into your hips a little tighter and that’s when you know you’ve found it, your lips closing over the most sensitive patch of skin.

Your lips graze over the area, licking and nipping as you make your way down to his collarbones, careful not to leave any marks where they may be visible.

He shivers, trembling under your touch as your hands slide down from his shoulders and over his chest, your lips following their path. He sucks in a sharp breath as you tease at the skin right next to his nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a sneaky mark before continuing down to his tummy, making sure to pay special attention to any moles or freckles that you find on your way.

Your legs feel like jelly as you climb off his lap and lower to your knees in front of him, hands pushing his thighs apart to allow you enough space to settle between them. The carpet is rough against your skin, but you can’t bring your self to care as you shuffle around to get more comfortable.

He isn’t without your touch long, his muscles fluttering under your fingers as you graze your lips over the soft ridges of his abs, placing open mouthed kisses along the waist band of his trousers until he grows impatient, his hands aimlessly reaching for his belt.

“Let me” you murmur, moving his hands back to rest by his sides before finding the buckle.

You’re slow in pulling it from the loops, taking your time as you drop it behind you and move to undo the button and zipper, dragging it down at an agonisingly slow pace before sitting back and allowing him to lift his hips. You drag the fabric down his legs along with his boxers, mouth watering as his already hard length springs free from the confines of the fabric.

“Much better,” you drawl, and he lets out a whimper as your lips kiss a path along the inside of his thigh, ignoring the area he needs you the most before moving to the other.

“Y/N, please do something” he pleads, but you don’t need to be told twice, his thighs jumping when a dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock.

He feels thick and heavy in your palm when you give him an experimental tug, glancing up through your lashes to see his eyes fluttering closed, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

“Feel good, Mase?” You coo, and his eyes pop open again, the sight of you on your knees between his legs making him feel light headed.

“S-so good” he stutters, hips raising to meet your hand as you twist it over him again before releasing him all together.

You run your fingertips over the underside of his length and he lets out a breathy moan of your name, the sound going straight to your core as you swirl your fingers over his tip and smear the drop of pre cum that’s collected there.

“Fuck, Y/N” he curses, struggling to keep his eyes open as you move your hand back to his base, holding him steady as you lower your head, lips wrapping around his tip.

You flick your tongue over his slit, humming as the salty taste of his pre cum coats your tastebuds and he drops back, resting on his elbows and watching as you take more of him.

You relax your jaw, moving further down his length and taking as much of him as you can whilst your hand works what you can’t fit in your mouth. The sinful sounds that leave his lips only spur you on, continuing to bob your head as you gaze up at him through your lashes.

“Oh my-, fucking hell” he pants, his hand reaching for the back of your head to gather your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. “You’re so good at that”

His eyes squeeze closed when you take him even further and you gag, eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat before pulling back to catch your breath.

Your hands keep up their movements, twisting and tugging until you take him into your mouth again and you let him guide you this time, hollowing your cheeks as he lowers your mouth down his length.

You brace your free hand against his thigh, letting him pick up the pace slightly as you work him towards his release.

“Gonna make me come, Y/N” he sighs, the feeling of your warm mouth around him sending him hurtling towards his orgasm.

“I’ve got you, Mase, come for me” you coo, and he fights to keep his hips still as you pay attention to his head again, tongue swirling over his tip.

One final flick of your tongue over his slit and he’s cuming into your mouth with a grunt, hand tightening in your hair as you work him through his high, swallowing every last drop. You only move away when his hips start bucking from the sensitivity, leaving one final kiss to his tip before sitting back on your feet, taking a moment to catch your breath.

After a few moments of comfortable silence he smiles down at you softly, reaching out for you and you take his hands, standing on shaky legs before lowering yourself back into his lap.

“You okay?” he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch when he cups his hand over your jaw.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his tongue moving over yours and he hums when he tastes himself on your mouth.

His hands trail up your thighs until he finds your panties, hooking his fingers under the fabric, pulling them back before releasing them to snap against your skin.

“Lets get these off” He mumbles, helping you climb off his lap and you move to stand in front of him, shimmying the scrap of lace down your legs as he watches you with crazed eyes until you’re completely bare in front of him.

“Lay down for me” he requests and you do as he asks, sinking back into the duvet as you rest your head against the pillows.

You watch as he stands, walking around the bed to pick his wallet up from the pile of stuff he brought with him earlier and he pulls out a shiny foil packet before climbing back onto the bed.

“Not so fast, baby girl” he tuts as you reach for it, trying to take it from between his fingers, but he places it to the side instead.

“Lay back and let me love on you a little bit”

He moves to hover over you and his lips are on yours in an instant, staying there for just a moment before trailing his kisses over your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and nibbling on your delicate skin as he makes his way down your throat.

“Mase” The moan tumbles from your lips, nails scratching the skin on the back of his neck as you bring your hand up in a desperate attempt to move him lower.

“What do you want, Angel?” He coos, voice vibrating against your skin as he kisses over your collar bones.

“Y-you, please”

“Patience, baby. Let me take my time with you”

And take his time with you he does, his lips dragging over every inch of skin that he can reach as he learns and memorises all of your favourite spots, the ones that have you making those sweet little noises he’s loving so much.

He mouths over your chest, kissing from one side to the other before closing his lips over your nipple and your back arches to meet his mouth as he licks over the sensitive nub, his hand sliding up your body to pay attention to the other. He gropes at your skin, pinching and tugging at your nipple before switching sides to pay them equal attention.

His other hand stays steady on your waist as his lips continue south, keeping you pressed into the mattress when his beard scratches over your delicate skin, causing you to squirm against him.

“Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asks, and you glance down at him, mind reeling as he gazes back at you through his lashes.

You nod vigorously, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slides his hands up the insides of your thighs, separating them enough to settle between them and his breath fans over your core as he inches closer.

“Fuck, look at you” he coos, teasing two fingers through your folds to collect your wetness and your brain short circuits when he takes them between his lips, humming as you coat his tastebuds.

“Taste incredible”

He uses the same two fingers to circle over your clit, waves of pleasure shooting up your spine, and you can’t help the pathetic moan that falls from your lips, head dropping back against the pillows as he shuffles closer.

“Feel good, Angel?” He hums, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh.

“Yes Mase, fuck. More” you plead, and his mouth finally meets your centre, a barely there kiss being pressed to your clit before he licks a long stripe up your entrance.

His hands move to hold your hips down as he eats you out like you’re his last meal, no longer wanting to hold back and your moans only encourage him. He alternates between licking and sucking, sealing his lips around your little bundle of nerves before dropping to dip his tongue inside of you, his nose nudging against your clit which has you moaning uncontrollably, back arching to meet his mouth.

Your hands fly to the back of his head, needing something to hold onto, and he hums against you when you tug on his hair, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure that you’re feeling.

You’re unable to think straight, the feeling of his mouth against your core making you forget about everything other then him and how good he’s making you feel, and it’s not long until you feel your orgasm creeping up.

“Mase, oh fuck” you sigh, and when he brings a hand between you to slip a finger through your folds, you’re done for.

His other arm hooks under your thigh, holding you open for him as he slips his finger inside of you, pumping it a few times to stretch you out before adding another.

“I’m gonna cum, Mase, oh my god” you whine, and he doesn’t relent, pulsing his fingers inside of you, his tongue working in tandem with them as he swirls it around your bundle of nerves.

“Let go for me, baby” he encourages, and you cum on his tongue as he suctions his lips around your clit, seeing stars as your orgasm hits you like a wave.

He works you through it, licking you clean until you’re tugging at his hair and he moves away, crawling back up your body.

You lay limp underneath him, eyes closed and lips parted as you catch your breath, feeling well and truly spent from the orgasm he just gave you. Your cheeks are flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, and your make up is slightly smudged, but he still swears that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful, his heart fluttering at the sight of you underneath him.

“So pretty” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your cheeks and the butterflies - the ones that have made a permanent home in your stomach - come back out in full force.

You flutter your eyes open and the twinkle that you find in his own has your insides turning to warm, bubbly liquid, his expression swimming with fondness.

“How are you feeling, baby?” He asks, shuffling slightly so that he can rest his weight against one elbow before trailing his free hand up your thigh, massaging your hips where he was gripping before.

“Good” you smile up at him, fingers toying with the chain that still sits around his neck, “More than good, actually. But there is one thing that would make me feel even better”

He raises an eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

You gather as much strength as you can in your post orgasm daze, hooking your legs over his waist to pull his hips down into yours and his eyes widen, realising what you mean.

“Needy girl” he tuts, hissing when you grind your hips and his hard length grazes over your core, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Please Masey. Need to feel you”

“I know baby girl, I’ve got you. Just relax for me”

He gives you a quick yet tender kiss before reaching over to pick up the foil packet from earlier and you shiver as he tears it open, squirming in anticipation as he sits back on his feet and pulls out the condom to roll it down his length.

“You still want to do this?” He asks you for what seems like the tenth time that evening, looking at you with soft eyes.

“Mase, what kind of question is that?” You chuckle, hand coming to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch when you brush your thumb over his skin gently, “Of course I do”

“Just double checking, Angel” he rests his forehead against yours, nose nudging your cheek and your heart soars at the softness of the moment.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, Mase. Need you”

You wrap your arms around his shoulder as he settles on top of you, spreading your legs for him to rest between as he finds a position that’s comfortable.

He runs a gentle, comforting hand over the outside of your thigh, using the other to guide himself towards your entrance and you suck in a breath as he lines himself up, his tip nudging against your slit.

Your quick intake of breath has his eyes snapping up to yours, concern etched onto his features. “What wrong, baby?”

“Nothings wrong” you reassure him, one of your hands finding its rightful place tangled in his hair, “It’s just been a while, just go slowly please?”

“We’ll go at your pace, baby. Just tell me if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?”

“Okay”

You reach down, encouraging him to move with a slow twist of your hand over his length and his lips are back on yours when he lines himself up with your entrance, swallowing your moans as he pushes in until only his tip is buried inside of you.

He gives you a few moments to adjust, not liking how you wince from the slight stretch, but you only nod up at him, encouraging him to keep going and you moan in unison when he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. So tight baby” he moans, his raspy voice right next to your ear.

“Let me know when I can move” his thumb brushes in tender circles over your hip, his other hand pressing into the mattress next to your head and you reach for it, unwinding one of your arms from around his shoulders to side your fingers through his.

Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him in a way that has pleasure shooting up his spine and he drops his head into the crook of his neck when you give him the go ahead to start moving.

He keeps his pace slow at first, gauging what you enjoy and what’s comfortable. A slow push and pull of his hips as you learn each others bodies.

“You feel incredible, Angel” he grunts, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips press into you with every thrust.

“Mason, fuck” You scratch your nails over his skin, back arching as he gives one particularly hard thrust that has his tip brushing over your sweet spot, “right there”

“There?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits it again, a desperate moan leaving your lips as he keeps pushing deeper.

“Y-yeah, faster Mase, p-please”

Your stuttered request is barely audible over the sound of your moans but he hears you just fine, picking up his pace as you wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle allows him to hit deeper, finding that sweet spot with every roll of his hips.

Every single thrust feels incredible, his fingers now digging into your waist to hold you steady. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin is all that can be heard as he works you both towards your highs.

“Fuck, Mase, I’m nearly there” you pant, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm and the feeling of him everywhere sending you hurtling towards your realise sooner than you’d expected.

“I’m right behind you, baby” he groans, pulling his head out of your neck when you tug on his hair, wanting to see him when you cum.

He looks ethereal on top of you, the bridge of his nose flushed as well as his cheeks, his hair a mess and falling over his forehead as that chain dangles between you. You reach for it, using it to tug him down and his lips collide with yours in a heated kiss.

“Mason…” you sob, unable to take your eyes off of his when he rests his forehead against yours.

“I know baby, I’ve got you. Let go for me” he encourages, his thumb finding your clit and that’s all you need to go falling over the edge, walls contracting around him as your orgasm hits you.

A wave of white hot pleasure rolls through you, your entire body trembling against him as he works you through it.

He isn’t far behind, pressing his hips to yours as the feeling of your walls fluttering around his length sends him toppling over the edge with a moan of your name.

His thrusts grow sloppy, hips faltering as he thrusts through it, thumb continuing to brush over your clit until you’re pushing his hand away when you get too sensitive.

With one final thrust he goes limp on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, spent from his orgasm. Your hand finds the back of his head, lightly scratching over his scalp as you both take a moment to catch your breaths. Neither of you make any effort to move for a while, Mason staying buried inside of you whilst your heart beats return to a steady pace.

You wince from the sensitivity when he eventually moves to pull out of you slowly, the kisses that he litters over your forehead soothing you before he discards the condom and collapses onto the mattress beside you.

He reaches towards the end of the bed, pulling up the blanket and you don’t hesitate to shuffle into his arms when he opens them for you, settling against his side with your head resting against his chest as he holds you close.

He knows that he should get you cleaned up, but he can’t bring himself to move as you snuggle into him, one arm draped over his waist and a leg hooked over his thighs, so he lets you get comfortable against him, enjoying the warmth of your body pressed into his.

A couple of minuets pass and you stay in a comfortable silence, fiddling with his chain as you rest on his chest, growing more tired by the second as his fingers sooth over your skin. He wishes you could stay like that for the rest of the night, not wanting to disturb you, but when you start to grow heavy against him he knows he needs to get you up before you fall asleep completely.

“Come on” he hums, lightly tapping your shoulder to encourage you to move. “Got to get you cleaned up, bubba”

You don’t make any effort to move, quite content with staying in his arms and not leaving for the foreseeable future.

“I’m tired” You groan as he resorts to gently pushing you off of him, rolling off the bed completely before holding his hands out for you to take, but you bury your face into the pillows and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders, missing his warmth immediately.

The bed dips under his weight as he kneels back onto the mattress, hands massaging into your shoulders before rolling you over to face him.

You pout up at him, shaking your head in protest. You know you’ll regret it in the morning if you go straight to sleep without properly getting ready for bed, but nothing sounds better than climbing back under the sheets with him and falling asleep.

“I know, but the quicker we get in that shower the quicker we can get back into bed” he tells you softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as you gaze up at him sleepily. “Let me take care of you, bubs”

His gentle smile and sweet words are enough to have you crumbling, holding your arms out for him and he doesn’t need to ask to understand what you want.

He effortlessly scoops you up, a kiss being pressed to your temple as he cradles you in his arms and carries you through to the en-suite bathroom, careful to avoid the clothes that are still scattered around the floor.

He switches the bathroom lights on, keeping them on the dim setting when he notices you squinting from the brightness and moves to set you down on the counter.

Reaching to the side, he picks up your make up bag, looking through it to find some of your makeup wipes before taking one out of the packet. You try and take it from him but he swats your hand away, tilting your chin up with his fingers before bringing the wipe to your cheek.

Your heart flutters at how gentle he’s being with you as he takes his time, swiping the wipe over your skin as he makes sure to get every last bit of makeup. His little focused face makes you giggle, his tongue popping out from between his lips as he concentrates, being extra careful when he gets to your eyes.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips once he’s finished, throwing the wipe into the bin before turning around to get the shower started and your mouth dries at the sight of his back when he faces away from you.

Red scratches decorate his skin, some travelling as high as his neck and you watch as his back flexes when he reaches for the taps to set the water temperature. You feel yourself heat from head to toe at the sight, struggling to keep your composure when he turns to face you again, instantly noticing your flushed cheeks.

“What’s up, bubba?” He asks, hands coming to rest on your hips as he moves to stand between your spread legs.

“I don’t think you should let anyone else see you shirtless for a couple of days” You tell him, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a giggle.

“Why? What did you do?”

He moves away from you to look at his reflection in the mirror, eye brows furrowing when he doesn’t find any hickeys or marks like he had expected to.

He looks back to you confused, but you wiggle your finger in a circle, telling him to turn around. He does, looking back at his reflection over his shoulder and you can see the moment he realises, his jaw dropping slightly as he takes in the scratches and marks left by your nails.

“You really didn’t hold back did you?”

“Sorry”

“Don’t be. Just means that I made you feel good” he says with confidence, winking at you with a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

You swat at his chest, not needing to admit that he’s right because you both already know the answer.

He holds a hand out for you, helping you off the counter and steadying you when you stand on wobbly legs, your body aching in the best way possible as he guides you towards the shower.

He steps in behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and your body slumps into his, face finding a home in the crook of his neck as the water cascades over you.

“You okay?” He mumbles right next to your ear and you nod in response, letting out a content sigh as you nuzzle into his skin.

You stay like that for a while, the water soothing your aching bodies before he reaches over and takes your travel sized shampoo from the little shelf behind you. He squeezes a generous amount into his palm, lathering it up before bringing his hands to your hair and you hold onto his waist, needing something to steady yourself as the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp sends you into a state of complete bliss.

He rinses it out after a couple of minuets - still way too soon for your liking - and repeats the process with your conditioner, letting you do the same thing for him.

As soon as you’re both washed off he gets out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist before taking another and holding it out for you. Getting out behind him, you step into the towel, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.

You both get dried off, changing into the fluffy hotel robes before he moves to leave the bathroom, wanting to give you some privacy to finish up your nighttime routine, but you take a hold of his hand, not wanting him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, bubs” he reassures, noticing a faint look of panic on your features. He slides his fingers between yours, giving them a tight squeeze, “I’m just going to tidy the clothes up and grab you something to sleep in okay? I’ll be back in a few minuets”

“Okay, sorry” you mumble, loosening your grip on his hand, feeling silly for getting so paranoid all of a sudden. “I just don’t want you to leave”

His expression softens. “I’m not leaving, Bambi. I promise. Could never leave you”

He presses a series of kisses to your face, one to your forehead, one to your cheek, one of your nose - that one has you giggling - and finally one to your lips, making sure that you’re smiling again when he disappears into the bedroom.

You busy yourself with drying your hair whilst he picks up your abandoned clothes, placing them into a neater pile next to your suitcase so that they can be dealt with in the morning.

He grabs the spare blanket from the wardrobe and puts it on the bed, switching the main lights off so that only the beside lamp is left on before changing into his clean pair of boxers and finding his toothbrush and the t-shirt that he brought with him earlier.

You’re just turning the hair dryer off when he comes back into the bathroom, brushing through your hair as he places his toothbrush next to yours on the counter. The sight of them next to each other has your heart flip-flopping in your chest, the action oddly domestic.

The multiple bottles and pots of skin care products that you have laid out catch his attention when he comes to stand beside you and he picks one up, reading over the bottle curiously.

“What’s all this?”

“You don’t know?” You meet his eyes through the reflection, surprised when he shakes his head in response. But his skin is always so clear?

“Can you show me?” He asks timidly, watching as you nod before jumping up onto the counter again.

You spread your legs, pulling him to step between them and his hands rest against your thighs as you pick up the first bottle, squeezing some of the serum onto your fingers before massaging it into his face. His eyes flutter closed, enjoying the sensation of you working the products into his skin, tracing the contours of his face as you tell him what each product is and explain what it’s used for.

He listens to your every word, loving how passionate you seem about it and making a mental note to ask you what they are again in the morning, so that he can buy some of the products for himself and keep some at his house for when you stay over.

You finish up with one of your favourite moisturisers before running through the same routine on yourself, letting Mason help when he insists and enjoying the feeling of being pampered by him.

“Thank you” you mumble, leaning forward to brush your lips over his in a soft kiss and he reciprocates, stepping back to allow you to jump off the counter when you pull away.

“Here, put this on” he says, handing you the t-shirt that he brought in, and you happily change into it, his scent lingering on the fabric and filling your senses as the material falls to your upper thigh.

The sight of you in his clothes is one he wants to see for the rest of his life.

You stand side by side at the sink and brush your teeth together, pulling faces at each other through the mirror as you do before following him back through to the bedroom.

You climb into bed first, getting comfortable under the duvet as he plugs his phone in to charge, begrudgingly setting an alarm for the morning. You both know it’ll be a struggle to wake up, but your flight back up to Manchester leaves at 10am, and you still need to make it to the airport before then.

But that’s a problem for the morning. All you’re concerned about now is holding him.

He settles under the sheets next to you, cuddling into your open arms and sliding you closer with an arm hooked over your waist. Your legs tangle together, bodies pressed close as he snuggles into you, his head finding it’s home in the crook of your neck.

He sighs contentedly, melting into you as you rest a hand on his arm and trace the outlines of his tattoos with your fingertips, his own sneaking under your (his) t-shirt to draw random patterns onto the soft skin of your tummy.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in weeks. The feeling of being in your arms bringing him a sense of comfort that he never thought possible, but he knows you still have something to talk about, and he’s about to bring it up when you beat him to it.

“What does this mean?” You whisper, the question that’s been on your mind for the past half an hour finally slipping through your lips as you raise your free hand and brush your fingers through his hair.

“It means I’m yours Y/N” he mumbles into your skin before pulling his head from your neck. He shuffles up your body slightly, moving so that he’s hovering above you. “If you’ll have me”

Your hand moves from his hair to instead cup his jaw, your fingertips lightly scratching through his beard as you gently pull him down to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

“I like you, like a lot” you tell him when you separate, but you keep him close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders

“I’m way beyond like, baby” He admits, a soft smile tugging at his lips and he knows it’s soon, but his heart feels like it’s bursting, and he can’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m in love with you Y/N, I have been for a long time”

He watches you carefully, waiting for any kind of reaction, and he’s a little worried when you don’t have one, your face staying neutral as his words sink in.

But then comes the smile, your lips tilting up as a look of complete and utter joy paints your features.

You’re overwhelmed by different emotions, cheeks hurting from how wide you’re smiling and you can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his again, stealing his breath away with a searing kiss.

The taste of your minty toothpaste still lingers on his tongue when he pushes it through the seem of your lips, working it against yours in slow, languid strokes as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, his fingers gently tilting your head back and your hand slides around to the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

Your chest is heaving when you eventually pull back, looking up up at him through your lashes as you catch your breath. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed and his damp hair messy from you running your fingers through it.

“You don’t have to say it back, I know you might not feel the same but I-“

“Mason, are you kidding me?” You cut him off, cupping his face in both of your palms. “I’m so in love with you”

A breath of relief leaves his parted lips upon hearing your words, his heart rate settling as you look up at him with twinkling eyes.

“I always have been, Mase. You mean absolutely everything to me”

“Yeah?”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding up at him with complete certainty.

“Mason you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve never felt this way before and I know that I won’t feel it for anyone other than you. You’re it for me”

His eyes shine with emotion, his jaw aching from how hard he’s smiling. He feels like he’s floating, your words putting him on cloud nine.

“I love everything about you, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful, but it’s not just that. You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re funny, you make me feel wanted in a way I’ve never experienced before, I’ve waited my whole life for this and now that I have you, I’m never letting you go”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours Masey”

You lean up, pressing your lips to his in one final kiss and when he rolls off of you, you move with him. He lays back against the mattress, arms opening wide for you to climb into and you settle against his chest as he adjusts the duvet over you.

“When we get home I’m taking you on a date” he tells you, and you tilt your head up to look at him. “I know you’re already mine, but I want to do this properly, and that includes you letting me spoil you”

Mine. You want to hear it over and over.

“Can I choose the restaurant?” You query, already making a mental list of places that you could go.

“Only if you let me choose the movie when we get back to mine after”

“Who said that I’ll be going back to yours?”

“Just because it’s our ‘first’ -” he lifts his hand, making air quotes, “ - date that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the gentlemanly thing and drop you home with a kiss to your cheek after”

“Looks like you’re picking the movie then” You pat his chest, giggling as he mumbles a quiet ‘good’ and you settle back onto his arms with a yawn.

He leans over to turn the lamp off, the room overcome with complete darkness as he pulls the blankets up to your chin.

“Get some sleep, bubba. Early start tomorrow” He whispers with a kiss to your forehead and you groan into his chest.

“Don’t remind me. Can’t we just stay here forever?”

That really does sound like the best idea ever. Here. As in the little bubble that you’ve built together in this hotel room. You’re not ready for it to pop.

“I wish we could Bambi, but I want to get home and take you on that date”

“I wonder what Lewis will say” you murmur.

Your families have been rooting you you both to get together for years, so you know he’ll be happy for you, but telling him as well as the rest of your families somehow seems really scary.

“Well, I was thinking-“

“Oh no” you cut him off, and he chuckles, chest rumbling under your cheek.

“How about we keep this to ourselves for a bit?” He suggests, fingers sliding between yours where they lay against his chest. “No one needs to know just yet, we’ll just take it slow and tell them when we’re ready”

“I like the sound of that. Just me and you for a little while”

“Exactly” he sighs, already looking forward to getting you home and exploring this new dynamic with you.

He feels whole as he glances down at you through the darkness, a wide smile painting his lips and he doesn’t think it’ll be leaving any time soon. He’s spent what feels like a life time waiting for this, waiting for his person, waiting for you. He’s not sure he’s ever been happier than he feels in this moment, all of his worries forgotten about as you lay in his arms.

He can just about manage to make out your features and his heart is bursting at the seams with love for you as he leans down to press another kiss to the top of your head.

“Goodnight, Bambi”

“Night, Mase. Love you”

———————

a/n: If you have made it this far I just want to say a massive THANK YOU! I really do hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻 Feedback is appreciated as always 🤍

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount fic #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount concepts #mason concepts

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months ago

Note

Bucky and reader on a long mission where they’re a married couple attending their new “friends” wedding reception. Bucky asks the reader to dance with him, because what kind of husband would attend an event like this and not dance with his amazing wife?

Dance With Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky attend a wedding as a fake married couple for a mission.

Warnings: Fluff, language, fake marriage, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

“You ready to do this?” Bucky asks as the two of you stood in front of the entrance to the venue.

“I’m ready whenever you are…” You looked up at him. “Husband.” You say.

“Let’s do this, wife.” He says.

You linked your arm with Bucky’s right arm and walked with him in the venue.

You and Bucky are on a mission as a fake married couple attending a wedding of two new “friends”. You two weren’t actually going to pay attention to the wedding festivities, except say hi to the bride and groom you two became “friends” with. You two are actually there for a flash drive that has very useful and important information on it for the Avengers.

“Look ahead.” You tell Bucky, seeing the bride and groom walking towards you guys. “Act natural.” You say.

The bride practically squeals when she sees you and Bucky, greeting you guys with a hug.

“How are you guys?” She asks. “We haven’t seen you two in a while.” She says.

“Sorry about that.” You apologized. “We were so busy with our kids that we forgot that we have a social life and friends.” You tell her, making something up.

“That’s ok.” She smiles. “We’ll catch up sometime soon. In the meantime, I hope you two enjoy our wedding as much as us.” She says, holding onto her husband’s arm.

You and Bucky gave them a nod and a smile as they walked away. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“We have kids now?” Bucky teasingly says with a playful smirk.

“It was the first thing I came up with!” You say.

“I’m not making fun of you.” He said. “I actually thought it was clever.

“Thank you.” You say with a proud smile.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back. “Now, let’s get that flash drive, wife.” He says.

“Let’s do this, husband.” You say.

You and Bucky managed to slip out of the room the reception is in without no one noticing and walked down the hallway, looking for the room you two are looking for.

“Bingo.” You two stopped in front of the office you two need to search. “This is it.” You say in a whisper.

You put your hand on the doorknob and turned it, only to find out that it’s locked. You huffed quietly and turned to face Bucky.

“The door is locked. How are we going to get the flash drive?” You asked.

Bucky stared at the locked door for a short moment before smirking to himself. He put his vibranium hand on the doorknob and turned it just enough to break it, opening the door afterwards.

“After you, doll face.” Bucky says, gesturing for you to go in the office first.

You walked in the office while Bucky stood guard at the door. You rummaged through every filing cabinet and every desk drawer, but couldn’t find the flash drive. You were about to ask Bucky for help, but you discovered something. The desk drawer you were looking through had a little secret compartment. You opened it and found the flash drive with ease. You grabbed it and put everything back the way it was.

“Here you go.” You say, handing the flash drive to Bucky.

Bucky put it in the pocket of his suit jacket and you two got out of there before someone saw you guys. You two managed to sneak back in the room the wedding reception is in with ease. You two looked around the big room to make sure no one was looking at you before making your way to the exit.

“The coast is clear. Let’s get out of here.” You say.

“Wait a minute.” Bucky said. “May I have this dance?” He asks when a slow song began to play through the speakers.

“What?” You asked, blinking a couple times.

“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t dance with my wife at a wedding?” He says.

You could sense his 1940s charm coming through, which made you smile. You happily accepted his offer for a dance. You two made your way to the dance floor and tried your best to blend in with everyone else. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he put his hands on your waist. You two swayed to the slow beat of the song. You two gazed in each other’s eyes while swaying to the music. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours. Your lips moved against his in sync.

“Mmm…” You hummed against Bucky’s lips before pulling away from his lips. “Let’s not steal the spotlight from the bride and groom.” You whispered.

“Good idea.” Bucky says with a small chuckle.

You and Bucky continued dancing while you thought to yourself. You’ve always heard about Bucky’s charm with the ladies in the 1940s, but never seen it until now. You have to say you definitely like this part of Bucky and you most definitely want to see it more often.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Bucky asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, humming in response.

“I asked you, what’s on your mind?” He asks again.

“I was just thinking.” You answered.

“Thinking about what?” He asks.

“You and your 1940s charm.” You answered. “I love this side of you and I would like to see it more often.” You say.

Bucky dips his head down so his lips are near your ear.

“I’ll show you this side of me anytime you want. All you have to do is ask, doll face.” He whispers in your ear.

“I can tell you what else I want from you.” You say.

“Oh yea? What might that be?” He asks.

Instead of telling him what it is, you kissed him passionately. Bucky immediately kissed you back. You pulled away, looking deep in his blue eyes.

“I have to say…” You started. “Being fake married is fun.” You say.

“I agree.” Bucky says, agreeing with you.

Bucky kissed you once more before you two realized that you two are accidentally stealing the spotlight from the bride and groom.

“We’re stealing the spotlight from the bride and groom.” You say with a small giggle.

“I don’t care.” Bucky pecks your lips softly. “I enjoy kissing you.” He admits.

“I enjoy kissing you too.” You admitted.

“Then we should get out of here.” He says.

“Let’s go.” You say.

You and Bucky walked over to the bride and groom to say goodbye to them before leaving.

“We’re going to have to cut the night short. We have something to do tomorrow and we have to get up early for it.” You say, making it up.

“Oh ok. Well, thank you for coming. We should catch up sometime when we’re not busy.” The bride says.

“Sounds good to us. Don’t you think, doll?” Bucky says.

You hummed and nodded in response. You two then left the wedding and got in the car.

“I’d like to dance with you again sometime.” You say.

“We can dance again when we get back to the hotel.” Bucky says.

“Sounds good to me.” You say with a smile.

Bucky leaned over the center console and pecked your lips softly.

“Wife.” Bucky says.

“Husband.” You say.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

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scififettuccine · 6 months ago

Text

A Wild Fix: Part 2

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: The day of the dreaded Supe Convention is finally here. After being paired with Frenchie for your part of the mission, you run into some unexpected conspiracies with some unexpected people.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Homelander, mentions of suicide, mentions of suffocation, Supes being Supes, not proofread (they never are)

Notes: Omg guys look at me being fancy and trendy and cool with the photo header >:)....(Please don't make fun of me I'm a writer not an editor, I tried my best okay?) Anyway here's part 2! Finally posting it after a lot of deliberation, but I hope it was worth the wait! Lots of description in this one, I'm proud of myself 💪 Here's Part 1.5 if you missed it. Big plans for part three, enjoy <3

The day of the Supe convention approached fairly quickly. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't been losing sleep over it. The whole situation was sort of a tightrope walk. If you went to the convention with The Boys, it was bound to end badly. Like you had mentioned to Butcher, it was a suicide mission. But if you told Butcher no, there was a possibility of losing the group as a whole. For better or for worse, they had been the only people in your corner since you joined The Seven…the only thing keeping you stable. As much as you hated that basement…it had become more of a home to you than the tower, even with Frenchie’s irritating presence. You had lost a lot of things in life. A lot of important things. You knew, even if you didn't want to admit it, that you were not stable enough to lose anything else. The outcome of the convention, at least in your mind, would be grim regardless of whether you worried or not. But you couldn't risk losing them, not when they were the only thing close to family that you’d had since…well since you could remember. Calling them family seemed stupid, as you’d only known them for about a month and a half. But truthfully? You didn't know what else to call them. No word seemed good enough.

Butcher had informed Annie of the plan, and the three of you had gotten together to discuss how dangerous the whole ordeal was. Butcher, of course, didn’t care. So, like clockwork, when the day arrived, everyone was informed of the base plan, and ready to go. You and Annie had shuttled into the casino turned convention center with the rest of The Seven, as was planned. The ride was tense and awkward, as it usually was when all of you were together. No one except for you and Annie were really friends, but of course Homelander tried to make it seem like you were. Unfortunately, you got the privilege of sitting across from him on the way there. He tried to create conversation, and you played into it, scared of what would happen if you didn’t. You two hadn’t gotten off to a great start, due to the fact that you had talked back, and he had choked the fear of his every movement into you. And ever since Butcher had info dumped about all the things he had done? You were even more careful around him. The conversation was bland small talk, not exactly focused on anything. You were honestly sort of drifting into space until he mentioned something that caught your attention.

“You’re young, right? You like music?” He asked, his sickeningly white smile on full display. You tried your best not to make a face, unsure of where he was going with it.

“I’m 27… and yeah. Yeah, I like music.” You responded, your fingers moving idly to crack your knuckles one by one. Homelander tilted his head ever so slightly before his gaze shot down to your hands. But as quickly as he had looked, he made eye contact with you once again.

“You know that guy, Mixer? He’s performing at the convention. Feisty little thing, I’ve met him on a few occasions. I remember the day he was signed on to the company.” Homelander paused, chuckling. “He was nothing, then. Fresh out of highschool. The kid could barely look me in the eyes…Now he’s dominating the music industry, with shitty pop but…Still dominating. Funny how those things work out, huh?” He asked. You nodded, glancing over at Annie for support. You didn’t have a clue how any of this was relevant, and you honestly didn’t know how to respond. Annie looked back at you and gave an encouraging smile. What a help she is, you thought.

“I met him at this convention a few years ago, right before he joined Residency.” You informed. Homelander audibly scoffed when you mentioned the team.

“Residency? They’re a PR nightmare in the making. It’s such a strange mix of people, too. I never understood where the inspiration came from.” He chuckled.

“Weren't they kinda supposed to mimic Payback to an extent?” You asked, genuinely curious. He waved a dismissive hand.

“Payback was a PR nightmare too. Come on! I mean, one death and the whole team dispands? Where's the strength in that? This is America! Keep fighting until you can't fight anymore. That’s what I always say.” His disgusting, distorted sense of patriotism always made you nauseous. The man was a blatant white supremacist, and saw the country like it was some holy land. The ideals itself weren't the most sickening part…it was the fact that he wholeheartedly believed them., to the point of influencing others to do the same.

“Yeah…Yeah.” You chuckled awkwardly, putting your hand over your heart, and shaking the other fist in the air. “Land of the free.” With that cringeworthy comment, the conversation sort of died off, ironically just in time for you all to head into the convention center. You and Annie had a few things to handle first, but you had already given The Boys their passes, so they could get an early start.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It was around lunch time when you and Annie met up with the rest of the group. You had decided to grab a bite to eat at one of the restaurants in the casino. Everything was open and being paid for by Vought, which was honestly one of the nicer parts of the convention.

“Oi. Listen up.” Butcher started, cutting through the small talk once he finally finished his food. “I say we split up into groups, yeh? Divide and conquer. There’s an even number of us, which makes it an easy split.” He scanned the group with his eyes. “MM and Annie, you take the arcade floor, all levels.” He pointed to Hughie. “Hughie and meself will take the shopping center…” His eyes fell on you, and he chuckled ever so slightly. You weren't even paying attention, too engrossed in the pasta you were eating. “Oi, marinara face.” He called, trying to get you attention. You instinctively looked up and wiped your face, figuring you were being messy.

“Sorry…” You grumbled.

“You and Frenchie take the theaters. Go sit in on as many presentations as possible, and bring back anything of interest.” You almost groaned when he paired you with Frenchie. There were four other people for fucks sake, and he knew for a fact that you two didn’t get along. You looked over at Frenchie, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly. He didn't look too happy about it, either, rolling his eyes as he pushed his plate away from him. He muttered to himself in French when he stood up. From what you had gathered over hearing it often, it wasn’t the most accurate.

“Right. That settles it. You know your tasks. Meet back here around…” Butcher looks down to his watch. “3:30-4:00 yeh?” Everyone exchanged one last ‘good luck’ before splitting up, leaving you with Frenchie. The two of you stood in awkward silence for a good minute, before you reluctantly broke it.

“Of course he would task us with sitting through the boring stuff.” You joked weakly, hoping he’d laugh. He did, but it wasn’t genuine, strained too. Neither of you really had a reason to be nice to the other, in all honesty. All you ever did was insult each other. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets before speaking.

“Oui. Let’s get it over with, then?” He asked, finally meeting your gaze. He was glaring daggers at you. That pissed you off. You were trying to be civil, at least long enough to get through the night. But when he looked at you like that? Like he wasn’t even trying? You glared daggers right back at him. The tension between the two was frustrating, partly because you couldn't figure out what type of tension it was.

“Lets.” You responded, your tone unreadable. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could get away from him.

Upon inspection of the schedule that had been sent to you on your phone, the first event happening in the theater on the first floor was a presentation of Vought’s assets, given by one of the higher ups from the company. Not much info would come from that, you figured, but you wouldn't know unless you sat through it. You turned your head in Frenchie’s direction as the two of you walked out of the restaurant and towards the theater.

“The first presentation starts in forty minutes. It's nothing exciting but it wouldn’t hurt to sit in and listen.” As you waited for Frenchie to respond, you realized your inside hand was a little too close to his. You pulled it away ever so slightly and moved to put your hand in your pocket. Frenchie nodded in response, not seeming too interested. You shouldn’t have let that tick you off…but you did.

“Listen dude. If you’re gonna be an asshole all day you can go do something else. I can handle this myself.” You said, your tone sharper than intended. Frenchie scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking over at you.

“I did not say anything!” Frenchie protested. “Did my nodding offend you that much?”

“It was the inflection.” You huffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“Mmm…Oui. The inflection.” He said mockingly. At that point? It was no use fighting with him, so instead of coming up with a witty retort, you looked around the casino. The line outside the door to the theater was already a bit long, and very colorful. Most Supes wore their uniform suits to the convention, so you could pick out almost everyone, at least those who were signed with Vought. Your eyes fell on a few old friends you had gone through the scouting process with, some people you had met at the last convention, and then an extremely familiar color scheme to a certain Supe’s suit that stuck out like a sore thumb. A bright white ensemble that stood out in a sea of colors…one that belonged to the Supe, Laugh Track, one of the Supes you had mentioned to Butcher.

Laugh Track was another member of Residency, one you were not particularly fond of. You had never personally met the guy, but something about him was just…unsettling. He was rather tall, not as tall as Playback, but almost a head above Mixer. Build wise, he was lanky, at least from what you could see. His Supe suit mainly consisted of a white jacket that resembled those worn in asylums on television, almost a straight jacket, but with control of his arms. There was no visible zipper, and the jacket’s collar went all the way up his neck. His mannerisms were always strange, which was sort of on brand for him. His powers were described as “weaponized hysteria.” It was just a fancy way of saying that his contagious laughter made people go absolutely insane, or at least laugh until they turned blue and suffocated. Laugh Track always stood very stiffly, and usually had a very blank expression on his face, his eyes wide and observant. You’d heard him speak in commercials before, and his voice didn't necessarily ease the feeling of dread you felt when you saw him. He had a strange accent, almost British, but not quite. It was very breathy and weirdly persuasive. He wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had neatly kept bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin…Something was just off.

Laugh Track was standing towards the end of the line, eerily still, his hands, which were covered in little bandages, twitching ever so slightly at his sides. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could only assume that they were darting around the room. You looked over at Frenchie, who was coincidentally already looking in your direction, his mouth slightly open, as if he was about to say something. You shook off the strange feeling that filled your chest and gestured to Laugh Track.

“Do you see the way his hands are twitching?” You asked, purposefully going out of your way to not look directly at Frenchie. Why the hell was he already looking at you? Was he staring or something? Frenchie looked over to the Supe, his eyes narrowing.

“Maybe he has a tremor. Rude to judge him for it, non?” You huffed and looked back to Frenchie, a less than amused expression on your face. You went to go say something else, but your ears perked up when you heard a familiar voice.

“Roman! There you are. I was looking all over for you.” The voice belonged to the man who was arguably the talk of the whole convention, Mixer. Frenchie followed your gaze and looked over at him too. Mixer originally had a Supe suit as well, but ever since he got popular and became more of a poster child than a Supe, he sort of just wore the stylish shit he wore on stage. On that particular day, the outfit consisted of a sleeveless black t-shirt with his logo on it, and ripped black cargo pants with a bunch of adornments hanging off of them. You had to admit, he knew how to dress. The shirt showed off his tattooed arms, and was tight enough that you could see the outline of his chest. After the slight shock of Mixer just appearing in front of you, you added his comment to your mental index. He called Laugh Track “Roman.” That must have been his legal name.

“I haven’t moved since the last time you saw me.” Laugh Track responded, his breathy voice mixed with the accent making you slightly nauseous. Mixer laughed and playfully nudged Laugh Track’s shoulder.

“I figured you would have gone to get a drink or something.” Mixer smirked and nudged his knee with a bottle of Dr Pepper. Laugh Track turned his head towards Mixer, which gave you a moment to catch a glimpse of his smile. It was…unsettling. Disturbing, even, he looked almost manic. But Mixer? He just tilted his head, and smiled sweetly back at him.

“I told you that I wasn’t thirsty.” The taller man let out a chuckle that honestly made you want to walk away. It was so unnerving, yet Mixer didn't seem affected at all. You and Frenchie made eye contact for a moment, before looking back to the two Supes. Frenchie looked just as uncomfortable as you.

“I know you did, but this thing is going to be long. And if we intend to get the info that he wants us to get, you can't be running on nothing.”

You played that sentence back in your head for a moment. The info that he wanted them to get? Who was “He”? And why were other people at this convention also digging for information? Especially people like Mixer. He had it made in the shade, what else would he need to know?

“You are being very loud about this. Hush.” Laugh Track said, taking the bottle of soda from Mixer’s hand. Mixer laughed softly and nodded.

“Right, right. My bad.” Before Laugh Track could respond, the doors to the theater opened, and the line started to move. “Remember, seats closest to the under-stage door on the left side of the theater. He said they should be reserved.” Mixer reminded as the two started walking, their shoulders practically glued together.

“Yes. Under-stage door on the left side of the theater, stage right in perspective of the presenter, reserved seats.” Laugh Track responded. You and Frenchie exchanged a look as the Supe’s in front of you had their lanyard passes scanned, and walked into the theater. As your own passes were scanned, Frenchie leaned over to you.

“Let's follow them and try to sit as close as we can get, oui?” He suggested. You nodded. That actually wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Good idea.” You responded. You could have sworn that you saw Frenchie smirk. The two of you kept a safe distance away from Laugh Track and Mixer as you made your way into the theater, but made sure you didn't lose sight of them. The flow of the crowd pushed you and Frenchie closer together, but in the heat of the task, you didn't really notice.

Maybe this presentation wouldn't be so useless after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorta kinda leaving you on a cliff hanger there if ya squint. I really like where this is headed and I'm very excited to start writing part 3. Lemme know what you think! Full disclosure I laughed harder than I should have at the “Land of the free” comment so I hope it made you chuckle. Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam @xcryptk33p3rx

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jsprnt · 10 months ago

Text

Witnessing your fiancé win his first final as a captain is a beautiful experience.

virgil van dijk x reader

A/N: trying something new! let me know what you think. this is some four am fluffy brainrot btw

W/C: 1.340

you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your blue jeans. it’s warm, you think, even though it’s barely ten degrees outside. your anxious, warm breaths turning into clouds when coming in contact with the cold air. the only thing missing is rain, the clouds looming over wembley stadium tonight would probably take care of that soon.

your eyes drift to the huge scoreboard a ‘waiting for extra time’ and a frustrating 0-0 meeting your eyes. virgil had managed to score a beautiful header a little past the second half of the match, though it was sadly disallowed after a var check.

you feel your hand being squeezed, it snapping you back to reality as you look to your left. cody’s girlfriend noa giving you a sweet smile. you had gotten close since both your partners were already very close, especially after cody transferred to liverpool a little over a year ago.

“calm down, I’m pregnant and not as anxious as you. have some faith in the boys.” she teases, trying lighten up your obviously nervous mood. you mirror the smile on her face, giving her a little nod in acknowledgment.

you had faith in the team, of course you did. you’d rooted and cheered at every match you’d been to, ever since you and virgil started dating four years ago. he’d proposed only last summer on vacation in beautiful mauritius.

you know how capable and trustworthy your fiancé is. leading liverpool as captain impeccably this season, and it looked like he and the team were back into their best form.

if liverpool won tonight, it would become his first trophy win as captain. extra special since klopp had announced his departure in the summer. giving the one of a kind manager a trophy his last season was very deserved.

you watch as the first fifteen minutes of extra time begin. you hold your breath a multitude of times, gasping and shouting along with the rest of the supporters when the chelsea players got a little too close to the net.

it seems like absolute torture when the second part of extra time starts. it had to happen within these fifteen minutes, otherwise you’d have to go to penalties. which in your opinion and many others was a stupid gamble, no matter how hard you’d practice shooting or stopping the ball. the saying ‘practice makes perfect’ didn’t apply to penalties, you always thought.

your eyes land on your sweaty, tired looking fiancé. his tall, big frame very easy to distinguish, even all the way across the stadium. his perfectly done hair was probably a little messy by now, small flyaways escaping from the low bun you’d styled carefully that morning before he left the house.

you watch as liverpool gets a corner, your eyes flickering to the scoreboard. knowing they had about three minutes to finally score the winning goal. maybe, this was their last chance. you and noa squeeze each others hand tighter, her other hand on her bump as you both watch kostas walk to kick the corner.

you hold your breath, kostas shoots and GOAL!

your fiancé scores a header, the liverpool supporters all roar in celebration. you and noa squealing and hugging each other from happiness. you heart swells due to how extremely proud you are of your fiancé. having difficultly holding back tears in your eyes.

the next few moments pass like a blur and before you know it, you see virgil holding up the trophy, surrounded by the entire team. you hug all of the wives and girlfriends next to you, some of them even teasing you by congratulating you for being engaged to virgil. you laugh, but you know they’re pretty much right. he was an absolute gem, both as an athlete, leader and your loving partner.

all of you are full with joy and relief, singing to ynwa proudly as you feel like you’re about to burst from happiness.

one would ask why you’d be so hyped and excited about winning the carabao cup, as if it was the champions league final. though, to you it didn’t matter what your fiancé won or achieved. you would get exited and emotional about it every single time, without fail.

you’re stoked as security confirms you can go down to the pitch to celebrate. you make sure noa is with cody safely before looking around for virgil. your eyes dart around as you almost spin a circle. you finally spot him looking at the spot you were sitting at, realizing he was doing what you were doing.

looking for one another.

“baby!” you call out, trying to get his attention. he turns immediately at the recognition of your voice. the sound of it never failed to bring a smile to his face, melting his heart like a ice cube thrown in boiling water.

you finally manage to make eye contact with him, running up to him as if you hadn’t seen him in years. you jump into his arms, his hands automatically moving to your thighs, unfazed by your sudden weight pressing against his body. his own motm award rested against your thigh, as he held both you and the award.

“there’s my beautiful love..” he says, his hair is indeed messy, baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead.

“I’m so proud of you..” you answer, panting a bit from your little run, looking into his brown eyes, your eyes traveling to the beauty mark underneath his eye, you oh-so-loved.

you cup his chiseled jaw, running the pad of your thumb along his short stubble. leaning in to kiss him breathlessly, lips pressing onto his plump ones, tasting the sweet energy drink he had probably just chugged. you wrap your thighs a little tighter around him, deepening the kiss. your own little prize for him to show how proud you are, for now…

you both were never the pda type, especially in front cameras that broadcasted worldwide at this point. so he only swipes his tongue along your bottom lip once, before pulling away. allowing you to stand on your own two feet again as he lowers you carefully.

“come take pictures with me, baby..”

he drags you towards the club’s photographers, making sure you both have pictures to look back on. holding both trophy’s as he allows you to hold the cup its self. eventually, rain sprinkling on both your faces.

after a couple more hours of celebrating you both arrive back home in cheshire, a prefect place you’d imagine to spend the next few years with your fiancé. you’d fallen in love with it, just like you heard your other wag friends say.

you lay on your bed, absolutely exhausted, maybe even more than virgil who had ran around the pitch for 120 minutes. you weren’t aware of the time, but from celebrating to the ride home, you could estimate it was past midnight already.

your eyes almost flutter shut, before you watch virgil walk out of the bathroom. freshly showered and dressed in his new pajamas you’d just got him.

“getting sleepy?” he asks, laying down on his side of the bed, pulling you in closer. his tatted arm wrapping around your back.

you hum, scooting closer to his chest and turning to lay on your stomach. placing your hands on his chest as you look down at him. the back of his head pressed against the white and gray pillows on your shared bed. his long curls splayed over them, not in a ponytail or bun, hair products he’d just applied smelling delicious.

this was your man, so fucking good looking you fought the urge to bite your knuckles. his gaze softened as his eyebrows relaxed, his bigger hand running up and down your back.

he lead his team amazingly, with a long list of injuries at the club you were worried. but the fact that they made it happen was insane, with the deciding goal from your fiancé and amazing leadership you couldn’t help but swoon over him, nonstop. eyes roaming around his handsome face.

“you okay love?” he asks in a deeper voice, chest vibrating against your hands. his hand now rubbing your nape. practically soothing you to sleep with his touch.

“I’m just admiring you…” you say, voice quieter than you expected. exhaustion taking over your body by the second.

“I can do that all night, baby. go to sleep now, hm…” he mutters, his hand pushing your head down onto his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. it lulls you asleep instantly.

he can only sigh in delight, a stressful but beautiful night ending with you sleeping comfortably in his strong arms. knowing you’d be supporting and loving him whatever happens, it just showed the love you had for each other.

his one and only love…

#virgil van dijk #football imagines #football fanfic #virgil van dijk fanfiction #liverpool fanfic #liverpoolimagines #virgil van dijk x reader #virgilvandijk #football #liverpoolfc #virgilvandijk imagines #virgilvandijkimagines #virgil x reader

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carmesi-butterfly · 1 year ago

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twitter

nishimura riki + fem! reader. word count 1,5k. not idols au/school au. warnings stalking (?) this one-shot is probably the most unserious thing i've ever written. not proofread.

"i checked your twitter account," said riki, trying to maintain a serious face and failing miserably, a few giggles came out of his mouth while he attempted to act normal.

"eh? that's not possible, my account is private" you looked at him with confusion, trying to decipher his weird laugh.

your twitter account has been a recurrent topic since both became friends, first of all because; who doesn't have twitter? it was the diary of the new generations, most of the teenagers had a profile in there! of course, you were one of them, but the way that you treated your account like confidential information made the japanese boy pretty suspicious.

it was a private account with no more than 15 followers, most of them probably were internet friends because it wasn't a novelty that you were not social by any means, on the contrary, you could be considered a loner, because of that, the apparent "state secret" hiding in your profile made ni-ki more than curious about what you could be secreting.

"i don't want you to get mad at me" pleaded, following that he proceeded to show you an interesting account that you knew well.

a profile named 'riri', with one of those famous headers with silly quotes you can find on pinterest and as an icon an orange cat with the emoji ☝️ referring to the recent meme that became viral, to finalize the bio was decorated with the phrase 'proud hater'. you got a request from that account just a few weeks ago, it followed most of the people you followed so it wasn't any suspicious to you, besides that's how you made a few of your friends! Following or being followed by oomfs of your oomfs, that's how social media works.

"that's you?" your voice raised annoyed and nervous, "you used that account to stalk me?!" with anger, you got up from your seat on the school rooftop.

"i wanted to know why you're hiding things from me!" his tone matched yours, being not loud enough to be heard by the other students who navigated through the school.

"if i hide things from you there's a reason!" your mood escalated from there, not only did your anger grow bigger but an immense urge to cry hit you.

“i-i know… I’m sorry y/n, i thought it would be something stupid, not that you like me”

riki brings your biggest secret into the conversation without any filter, dropping it like a not-warned bomb that fell into you and unloaded the last level of emotions you were hiding on a facade of pure rage.

now everything made sense, his giggly laugh without a reason while looking at you, the weird things he said that seemed like an inner joke you could not understand, the weird “i know your secret” he released randomly in your conversations... you thought it was all a joke! it's nishimura riki that we’re talking about. He enjoys pranking and tends to do and say weird stuff, it could be a completely normal behavior for him, but no, this time it wasn't.

“why did you think doing this was a good idea?” you claimed, hiding your face between the palms of your hands while a few tears slid down your face.

“sunoo once said that he knows you like me, so heeseung gave me the idea of stalking your accounts for any signal but your accounts are private… so he helped me by making a stalking account, i know it was wrong. i'm sorry, please don't cry” he begged after confessing everything, trying to get near you therefore he could calm you at least a little bit.

“sunoo and heeseung know?!” you blurted, your eyes opened as if you were trying to imitate an owl’s gaze, and your hands transitioned from covering your face to holding it, any similarity with ‘the scream’ by edvard munch is just a coincidence.

“the whole group knows” announced, opening the hell gates with a simple phrase.

“riki are you kidding me?! i don't care that you know even if you violated my privacy, because i would've told you sooner or later, but your friends?! how humiliating, i’m never coming to school again” and the catharsis started, a big flow of verbal vomit came out of your mouth going from ‘they're probably making fun of me right now’ to ‘i’m gonna delete all my social media and never use my phone again’ all of this accompanied by fat tears.

the poor boy felt hopeless, watching you practically going insane in front of him without knowing what to do to help you, or more reasonably: how to amend his mistake. luckily for him, his guardian angels appeared in the scene to help him, hiding behind the door of the rooftop heeseung (the one responsible for this mess) and jungwon (a heart warmed soul who wanted to help his friend) were hiding, their faces full of horror admiring the scene that was unloading in front of them. what happens next is worthy of a comedic movie. His friends started a physical and exaggerated demonstration of how he should calm you, hugging each other and emphasizing comfort acts such as back patting and forehead kissing. ni-ki would've burst out laughing if it wasn't for you crying like a baby.

“please don't cry, i’m sorry, you can beat me all you want if it makes you feel better” proposed completely seriously, while slowly without trying to upset you more he got closer, searching to imitate the “comforting” hug he saw his friends do, let's not lie… it was a bit awkward, but he tried and that's okay.

gradually you ended up relinquishing the embrace, starting by clinging to him delicately and finishing by squeezing his torso the strongest you could.

“beating you is not enough, i need you to die” your voice came out weird because of the amount of strength you were applying to the “hug”, but despite that, your head relied on his chest.

“you will suffer a lot without me!” a small laugh flew out of his mouth, refreshing the conversation. “are you still mad at me?” the nishimura looked down, searching for your face and any kind of reaction from it.

“yes” your response was cut and short, it could've worried your crush if it wasn't for the water dripping off your nose because of all the crying.

“u-uhm, i have something to tell you, maybe this will help you feel better” his heart started to beat faster and you could feel it through the hug, he cleared his throat in a way of trying to shake the nerves out, “the reason i did all of this stupid plan was that… i had hopes that you talked about me there, uhm…” a small pause to take a big breath after the confession interrupted the moment, but he quickly picked up the conversation, “my friends encouraged me to confess, specially sunoo, you know that he has a sixth sense with gossip” joked.

“you're telling me that… you did all of this because you like me?” you asked dumbfounded, the question got him more embarrassed than he already was, why did it make him sound so stupid?

he nodded, ignoring your attempt at visual contact while trying to hold back his smile. “then, do you feel better now?”

“no” denied, “but i know what can make me feel better” and after saying that, a naughty smile appeared on your face.

“what? i will buy you a lot of food from the cafeteria if that's what you want-”

his phrase got interrupted by you, who continued speaking, “do you remember… when i found that folder on your phone that had a ton of pictures of you trying to fake your muscles? how would you feel if i told your friends about it?” ni-ki’s smile disappeared instantly, now his face reflected nothing more than true terror.

in a matter of seconds, your bodies separated and you started running to the rooftop door. riki knew what you were trying to do, getting into the school, searching for his friends, and revealing his shameful secret! this can't be, but after being a bad friend things were not on his side, he tried following you the fast as he could but forgot a small detail, his friends hiding behind the gate. as soon as you got to the exit the spot where the two boys were hiding got exposed and both seemed nervous about that, but you couldn't care less.

“hi, guys! it's so nice to see you, i have something amazing to tell you!” your acting, so giggly and happy relaxed jungwon and heeseung who were scared of being scolded for spying. “did you know that riki-”

at that exact moment, the japanese covered his ears, not wanting to hear all the things you might be saying to his comrades who surely were going to make fun of him until the day he died. well, at least he can make fun of them because he got a girlfriend (even if you aren't his girlfriend yet) and they don't!

#enhypen x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen ni ki #enhypen niki #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines

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thecircularsystem · 3 months ago

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The Future Is... What?

[ID:

Picture One: A comic page. Panel one states, in a glowing yellow text, "I don't want my future to be plural." Panel two has images of tumblr screenshots overlayed over top of one another and states, "I see these posts from people in the tags, and I'll admit..." Panel three shows Circular at their computer, looking concerned. The text says, "It worries me." Panel four shows Circular walking and states, "In my daily life, I'm a teacher. This year, I am using the correct pronouns, depending on whoever is fronting. The kids... they're good about it, for the most part." Panel five and six feature a mirrored school hallway, with the mirrored side of the image being distorted, with everyone watching the perspective character. The text is split between the panels, saying: "I have to wonder what it would be like... if they all knew the truth."

Picture Two: A comic page. Panel one shows Circular saying, "This is, obviously, my own fears." Panel two shows a series of repeating creepy eyes, overlayed on one another, and states, "The idea of all these eyes on me..." Panel three shows Circular saying, "It's clear this isn't a common fear, for plurals." Panel four says, "But I'm not plural. I'm a system." Panel five features the header image for Circular's blog, a glowing green maze with puzzle pieces in the middle, with lines tracing through to try to find the center. It states, "I am a system of puzzle pieces, and we are trying infinitely to find our place, together. My disorder is not my plurality. My disorder is trauma responses and how they prevent me from functioning." Panel six, now featuring white text, states, "But the discussions about pluralphobia and how it affects me have been forced on my non-plural shoulders... and so, I decided to finally, finally test the waters. And, remarkbly... nothing has changed."

/End ID]

Alright. Now that I'm done pretending to be an artist...

Like the comic said, I tested the waters.

I told people at work that I'm a DID system.

There's about 4 people who know now? It was five, but one quit, so... I had a nice, long conversation with three of them during a social hour over drinks, and a shorter conversation with another coworker -- only I can't quite remember if that truly happened, or was just a nightmare I had. Regardless.

I told my coworkers. And nothing at all changed about my experiences. Well, no, that's not true -- I made my one coworker realize that she likely has DP/DR and encouraged her to look into that and get some help with it. But beyond that?

The most that happened was a single instance of a coworker using the current fronter's name.

Nothing else has changed. And I honestly don’t want it to. Work is a refuge away from my personal life; why would I want them to know who I am personally? I much prefer just being referred to by my last name.

So why do I still feel like I do not want my future to be plural? Isn't it nice to be accepted? Isn't it nice to be who I am?

I wrote all of this out some time ago, and in those notes, I wrote: if the future really is plural... Where do I belong? I would belong under the watching eyes of people who know about plurality, but… do they know I’m not plural? Does this plural future include one where I can be visibly not plural, even when I fit the definition?

I don’t think it does. Not from the discourse side of things, anyways.

In a future that is plural, I can't hide. And as a DID system, being hidden is safe, for me. I'm not saying I want to hide my plurality -- that's not even the issue here. I’m out, I’m proud, whatever — It's that I am not plural. And I don't want people to look at me and suddenly be confronted with... not what they expected.

I have not told my administration about my disorder. It is not because I know I cannot be plural with them. I know they would accept me changing my name when I change fronters. I know they would accept my change of pronouns -- they literally already have.

It's that it is unsafe. Not because of "pluralphobia" -- but because of my trauma.

In my home, growing up, I could not share myself. I could not let myself known. Somewhere around 2 and 3 years ago, I finally let myself be known. I let my parents see me for who I truly was, and now, the only family I have left is the one I built around me. Being myself is unsafe, the laws my brain has written say. Hide who you are, every aspect of it, or else things will come crashing down.

This isn't pluralphobia; this is trauma. Covering it with a different name doesn't negate the basis it has is not in my plurality. The basis is the trauma I have experienced. And that is what I hide.

It isn't safe for me to be too disordered at work. I have to be able to manage. If I can't manage, then... I'm unsafe. I'm incapable. I'm unworthy. Those are the messages I've grown up with, the ones I internalized, and what I'm working with my therapist with.

I don't want my future to be plural, because I'm not plural. I'm a traumatized individual who looks like plurality, but with a lot of added bullshit on top of it.

I am not on the train of the anti-endos, calling that endogenic systems are suggesting we traumatize children. Equally, I am not on the train of the pro-endos, calling that this phrase clearly was meant as a suggestion to raise awareness of plurality.

This was a slogan. A damn good one, or at least, good in that it did it's job. It was written with clear intention to shake things up. And I can hear the arguments now -- isn't it good to shake up the bigots? Except that we like to forget that the supposed bigots are largely traumatized individuals making bad choices. Nothing more. Nothing less. Pluralphobia is not the actions of a hate group. It's the actions of troubled young adults on the internet -- or even teenagers -- and does not have ramifications on a systemic level.

What happened to, 'If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all'? Did we all suddenly agree to obey the letter of that law and not the spirit? Suddenly, if someone uses a label, they deserve what happens to them? Because that's the message being presented. All anti-endos deserve isolation and the abandonment of everyone who loves them, right?

What about me, who fears abandonment and isolation? What about me, someone who is currently being told that, really, these fears are internalized pluralphobia, despite the fact that I'm okay with the plural part, it's the internalized ableism that's the problem, and the systemic issues surrounding my trauma.

Does speaking out against that make me anti-endo "enough" to deserve abandonment and isolation?

The idea of plural acceptance is a good one for plurals. Those who want to be seen; want to be known.

But this does not speak for me. It doesn't speak for the scared teenagers on Tumblr who are still being abused. It doesn't speak for those of us who are still struggling with the shame of being traumatized, each and every day, against our own wills.

It doesn't speak for those who aren't plural.

By all means; I hope the future is good for all plurals. I hope awareness is there when it's needed. I hope we all get the love we need, and that people stop purposefully misinterpreting or slinging hate.

I hope that your future is plural.

I just hope mine isn't.

I hope my future is my fiance. I hope my future is my family. I hope my future is teaching.

I hope our future lets us be who we are.

#the future is plural #my future is me #sysconversation #syscourse #vessel on a calming sea #this definitely is not all of my thoughts on this #but forgive me #I am sick and tired and have more important things than internet discourse

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boasamishipper · 2 months ago

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tagged by @film-in-my-soul and @icemankazansky - thanks guys!! ❤️❤️❤️

Everyone deserves to toot their own horn and be proud of their work! So, this tag game is fairly simple.

Promote 5 works that you're really proud of and share a little about why you're so proud of them! Then tag as many people as you like. You can reblog this post and add on to it (why not create a giant reclist to throw around?) or steal this header (and border if you like) and make your own post.

tagging @bornforastorm @lookforanewangle @apartmentsmoke @maverickcalf @saltyfilmmajor @hacash @academicgangster @onekisstotakewithme and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it

Make A Wrong One Right

Top Gun, Iceman Kazansky/Maverick Mitchell, Goose Bradshaw & Maverick Mitchell

Maverick makes a wish and wakes up thirty years in the past. He reacts accordingly.

I've written a lot of Top Gun fics (sixty-three, to be precise, which is insane all on its own) but this fic is far and away the one I'm most proud of. Not only did I get to throw in all my favorite things (angst with a happy ending!! time travel!! magical realism!! back to the future references!!), I got the chance to explore in a more subtle way just how much Mav loves Ice, and tackle fun existential questions like, Would you change the past if it meant you might lose the future you love? And I feel like I balanced all of the above and stuck the landing really well! (Honestly, the whole story was worth writing just for the bit in chapter three where Mav calls Ice 'baby' without thinking and Ice bluescreens so hard he drops what he's holding.)

there's a raging fire in my heart tonight

Top Gun&MCU, Iceman Kazansky/Maverick Mitchell, Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau, Carol Danvers & Iceman Kazansky, Iceman Kazansky & Tony Stark, MCU/Coherent Storytelling

“Carol, you can’t bring a civilian into this—” “Civilian?” The temperature in the room seems to drop twenty degrees as Ice steps forward, flinty-eyed and deadly serious. “I’m a captain. And I earned my rank, which is more than I can say for you, Rogers. Thanos killed my husband. You want to stop me from helping you out, you’re going to have to shoot me.” Silence stretches out, long and fraught with tension. Then Stark laughs out loud, and everyone turns to look at him. “What?” he says. “I like this guy.”

This was the first Top Gun fic I ever published, and the first Top Gun fic I wrote on my own. (At the time, I was working on baby, baby, i'd get down on my knees for you with the fantastic @academicgangster, without whom I never would have gotten into Top Gun or on the Tom Cruise train at all.) Naturally my first foray into this fandom ended up being this chaotic, complicated beast of a fic, where I wrote my faves Iceman Kazansky and Tony Stark and Carol Danvers side by side, fixed all my issues with Avengers: Endgame, and gave everyone the happy ending they deserved (especially after all the additional angst I put them through). I had a blast writing this fic and rambling about all the details with Cain (without her support this fic would never have left our tumblr DMs). There were a lot of plot points to juggle, and I managed to juggle them all. So though I've definitely grown as a writer in the (oh god) five years since, I still look back on this fic very fondly, and very proudly. And who knows, maybe someday I'll go back to this series and write more of Ice accidentally acquiring a son in Tony Stark and a granddaughter in Morgan. (Famous last words, I know.)

Judge Leon AU

Night Court (1984) / Night Court (2023), Dan Fielding/Harry Stone, Dan Fielding & Leon, Olivia Moore/Donna "Gurgs" Gurganous, Neil Valluri/Gabby

When his court-assigned public defender quits on his first night as an arraignment judge at Manhattan Criminal Court, Leon decides to reach out to his old foster father, Harry Stone, for advice. He finds Harry's widower, Dan Fielding, instead.

shot:

chaser:

I could not tell you for the life of me why the hands down angstiest fics I've ever written ended up being for an 80s sitcom whose plotlines include a ventriloquist's dummy committing suicide and my blorbo getting so horny he had to fuck a firehose about it, but here we are!! Over sixty-four thousand words later!!

In all seriousness, though, I'm extremely proud of this series. I have a lot of issues with New Night Court (I have a post in my drafts about that), namely that it lacks the edge and darkness that made the original so good, and this series gave me the opportunity to restore that edge and really make us feel Harry's loss, as well as the loss of almost all the other main cast members. I get to be goofy (a man holds the gang hostage on the advice of members of his favorite subreddit) and I get to be angsty (delve deeply into Dan's low self-worth and depression and grief post-Harry's death) and in all the spaces between, I get to write about how much Harry and Dan loved each other (and develop Leon and Dan's growing bond), and I do it all very, very well. (Certainly better than the NNC writers. Let me into the writers' room, guys!! Help me help you!!)

Austin Alone

9-1-1 Lone Star, Billy Tyson/Owen Strand

After the reopening of the 126, Billy and Owen give being friends with benefits a try. Inconvenient feelings ensue. / Season 3 AU, Owen-centric.

I co-wrote this fic with the lovely @lilalbatross while season 3 was still airing, and not only were we so in tune with the characters and the show that our fic accidentally predicted the future (exploration of Owen's abandonment issues! Owen getting trapped in a collapsed building!), but this fic set my standards so high that now the show can no longer reach it. (To be fair, this is largely because Lone Star decided to become the Tarlos and Wyatt Show above all else, but that's a rant for another day.) I'm proud as hell of this fic for a lot of reasons - I got Billy and Owen's voices down pat, put them in mortal peril that was realistic to the show, and wrote some banger lines of dialogue and prose that made me take honest to god victory laps around my house. The entirety of (the very long) chapter 6 might be some of my best work of all time.

For A Minute There I Lost Myself

Ted Lasso, Nathan Shelley & Original Male Character(s), Nathan Shelley & Ted Lasso, Nathan Shelley & Rupert Mannion

Nathan Shelley and the road to redemption.

[sigh] Really it's such a shame that Ted Lasso never got a season three and so we never got to see Nate grow and thrive at West Ham and bond with his players and stand up to Rupert and become more confident in himself and his ability as a coach and apologize to Ted and just in general have a redemption arc that was not centered on some random one-dimensional mean waitress or his ability to play the violin. But at least we have this fic!

I wrote FAMTILM for Yuletide in 2021. I'd never written Nate's POV before - all my Ted Lasso fics up to this point were about Sam and Dani - so I'm proud of myself for being able to capture the nuances of Nate's voice and write the slow growth of Nate's self-esteem and realization that he was in the wrong and his affection for his players (particularly Višnjić and Roubeni, who are in my top ten favorite OCs I've ever created). I'm also very proud of myself for taking what could have been a 30k word story and telling it just as well in under 8k, and writing a full Natedemption arc in less than a month that turned out to be ten times better than what Sudeikis and co accomplished in twelve bloated episodes.

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focusontheheart · 1 year ago

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Meet the Team - MaggieRose

You can also find @maggierosestudio on: Twitter @ MaggieRoseStudio

Hi friends! I’m Maggie, a Freelance Illustrator based out of NYC. Horizon has been a huge part of my life since its release. I’ve made a ton of fanart from the series and even toured Guerilla Games. But the best part of being in the HZD fandom is the people! Forging friendships with fellow fans all across the globe is something I will always treasure and have Horizon to thank.

See the Q&A with Maggie below the cut!

Q: What is a favorite piece of work you've done (completed, working on, in concept)?

My favorite HZD themed piece I’ve made would be the painting of Aloy and the Tallneck. I’ve used it as my header image for years, not only because I want to show my love of the game, but because I am still proud of how that piece came out. I was still new to digital art, I spent hours, days, weeks on that piece and learned so much. It will always mean a lot to me for many reasons.

Q: What are some of your favorite tropes to write, draw, or read?

Favorite tropes to throw characters I love into would be Wild West and Summer Camp AUS, anything outdoorsy. Those settings offer so much in terms of bonding, laborious situations, danger, excitement, and romance, I just love stories in those genres.

Q: What is an unexpected thing or fun fact about you?

I can do bird calls!

Q: What has been your favorite thing about working on this project so far?

Connecting with so many dedicated, helpful, friendly people all working together on the same project. No attitudes, No judgment, ALL LOVE! It’s been incredible!

#focus on the heart #foth #foth dating sim fangame #foth visual novel fangame #horizon forbidden west #meet the team: artists and writers #artist: MaggieRose #aloy x alva #aloy x petra

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blogger360ncislarules · 7 months ago

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No one was dreading the death of Young Sheldon patriarch George Cooper more than Lance Barber‘s TV daughter, Raegan Revord.

“I held off on reading [the script for Episode 12],” she tells TVLine. “It was probably 10 pm, the night before we were going to start filming the episode,” that she finally read through the last scene. “I’ve been very fortunate that I haven’t had a major loss in my life, so losing this beloved character, and losing the show as well, was like two losses at once, and it was rough.

“We filmed the scene where we find out that George died in two parts,” Revord explains. “We filmed up to the knock, and that was fine. We were having a blast. Then we did rehearsal for the second half, and I was weeping; I could barely say my lines. In that scene, [Mary, Missy and Meemaw] get to the door. They’re not bawling, they’re just wary, and I’m at the door, full-on shaking, sobbing…. You can tell that you’re seeing real, raw emotion in that scene.”

For TV brother Iain Armitage, openly sobbing wasn’t an option. “The thing about Sheldon is, it’s less of an external [reaction],” he points out. “For other characters, maybe that stone facade is crumbling from the outside, in; for Sheldon, it’s from the inside, out.

“In one of the first takes we did, I sat down in the chair the way they wanted me to, and I started to let my face fall,” the 15-year-old recalls. “Not quite cry, but I kind of start to get emotional. [Series co-creator] Steven Molaro said, ‘Don’t even do that. It is 1,000 times more heartbreaking if we see that Sheldon can’t even begin to imagine processing or understanding that to the point where he simply won’t. His mind won’t try. It’s almost as if he’s just heard them talking about the weather.’ I really liked that interpretation.”

youtube

Thursday’s series finale (CBS, 8/7c) consists of two, half-hour episodes, the first of which takes place almost entirely at George’s funeral. Everyone is working through the five stages of grief, including Missy, who is more angry than anything else.

George’s widow Mary (played by Zoe Perry) is also faced with a new and unforeseen reality. Not only has she lost her husband, but she’s about to see Sheldon off to California, where he’s set to embark upon his Big Bang future at Caltech.

“I don’t know that [Mary] is coping well,” Perry tells TVLine. “It’s a real struggle. She is all of a sudden a single parent… and as we talked earlier about her early crisis of faith [in Season 2], she has two directions to go, and I think we know where Mary ends up on The Big Bang Theory, so you get an idea of where she’s headed.

“You see these fresh wounds,” she says of Thursday’s double-header. “I imagine there could be something cathartic [in that] for the audience because these remaining characters are going to be experiencing a great amount of grief simultaneously with [them]…. I know that, regardless of how people feel about [the finale], I’m just really proud of how everyone showed up and gave it their all. It’ll definitely be powerful.”

#young sheldon #💔#Youtube

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nightskylonging · 11 days ago

Text

My reactions from reading Wind and Truth

Spoilers for the whole book under here! Also for The Sunlit Man!

Post-reading notes added in red.

Day one: Prologue through chapter 61

Kaladin has come so far. I’m so proud of him.

Kaladin Renarin and Adolin brothers? Official? Please?

'He had not given up his right to take Moash to task.' Kaladin really said ‘it wasn’t my fault, and I’m going to kick his rear’ I think he can still do this? Because the Windrunners didn't get him. So when we get down to brass tacks in the back half, I think Kaladin still has a shot at facing him down.

Oh my goshhhhhh Szeth needs so much therapy. His spren needs so much therapy. Can Knights Radiant do like. A relationship break? I think they need it? This is not healthy? Well. Didn't expect it to shake out like that, but I was still right!

Gavinor is having nightmares… Branderson this had better just be the trauma, if you go the child champion route, I swear… Ha. Hahaha. This poor boy.

Wait. Kaladin has a rock in his pack. Szeth’s oathstone??? Maybe?

Aladar does make me wonder. Stakes can’t really get higher for the back half… is the second half of Stormlight societal revolution? Never mind! Stakes can get higher!

Szeth’s flashback. It kinda makes my heart hurt. Already you can see the seeds of the older version, the beginnings of that obsessiveness. But I also think it’s interesting how Szeth is living a classic fantasy story: farmboy, cast out, caught up in strange affairs in alien lands…

Ba-Ado-Mishram… the 17th Shard forum (chaos specifically) must be having a field week with this

I love that Lopen is the one to lay it all out practically. And that he’s picking up on Lift’s intensifiers

‘Dai-Gonarthis! The Black Fisher holds my pain, and consumes it!’ That’s the quote in TWOK’s death rattles, I think. Is that what happened to El I wonder? Did she consume his rhythms? I don’t know how that would work, but it might be something.

Day three’s only Adolin, Szeth, and Kaladin’s POVs… aghhh

Kaladin: the murder was bad. You can get better Szeth: ah, of course. I should feel nothing when I kill. Kaladin: *sighing*

The Well of Control? Shroud of the fragments of the dead moon??? That goes hard, but what does it mean?

Wait. What do the Shin think about sand? Is that sacred? I don’t think so, based on an earlier pebble comment.

Szeth. Nooooooo. Suicide is not the way. Bad for you. Bad for Kaladin.

OH MY GOSH I JUST REALIZED THE CHAPTER ARCHES ARE COLLAPSING

Ashyn. Something that shook even Hoid. More and more we wonder at his story…

New chapter header! A pen and a spear… interesting. Maybe Syl? She mentioned wanting to learn to scribe. Oh, Sigzil!

Oh no. I just had a horrid thought. Is this battle why Nomad is so wrecked in The Sunlit Man? Yes and no, I guess.

Okay, new thought. It’s been 460 pages and nary hide nor hair of Moash. Where is he? Is he out for this book? He did finish the last one in… spectacular fashion.

Adolin has some very deeply buried resentment to deal with methinks. Either that or he’s going to burn out. Maybe both.

Oh, Kaladin… ‘Tonight, he wrote a different story for himself. Of a man who loved music.’ This genuinely brought a tear to my eye, this and his kata dance with Syl. He made it. I made it. We made it. It’s still hard, but there is music.

… well, there’s Moash.

Did they hemalurgy him??? Because in my cosmere experience, spikes = hemalurgy

Okay. I’ve got to say, we are coming back to the roots with this book. This feels like a proper fantasy novel. Which may sound weird, but Stormlight, especially Rhythm of War, was feeling a lot more sciencey. Not a bad thing, but we’re fully back in fantasy now.

Ima be honest, I completely forgot about Venli.

A fourth moon??? That… that has to be a metaphor, right? Current theory: someone tried a satellite, and Honor smote it. Tower of Babel esque. Well, wrong about that. I still don't get this fourth moon stuff. Time to go visit the 17th Shard?

Day two: chapter 62 through epilogue

He still has the stuffed sheep…

The chapter arches are still crumbling. And now the faces are getting mixed up, usually they’re symmetrical, but 70 just has one of Wit’s faces. Opposite him is… maybe Chanarach? I went and checked the Coppermind Wiki: definitely Chana. Didn't spare time to try and figure out if the mismatched faces meant anything, though. Though this is also how I accidentally spoiled what would happen to Kaladin, which fair. Coppermind updates fast. And we all had a feeling about that, no?

Shallan doesn’t want to look at Chanarach. Are the theories right? Chana was her mother? Wait. In Gavilar’s prologue the Stormfather says a Herald died. Does the timeline match up? It might… Shallan was… twelve or so then? I’d have to go check her flashbacks.

And the Iriali are leaving. Interesting… there’s another story. A lot of stories in these interludes. Are they off to Tress's planet?

I am developing a theory. Adolin is becoming what I call a deadeye knight – a partnership with a deadeye, maybe the armor too. Doesn’t come with powers. Bang on, past me.

TALNNNNN!

The highspren names are numbers. Huh. Okay. Immediate instinct is That’s Bad, but spren are like that. Thought about it. Still don't like it.

Lift is growing! And she found Zahel!

Ah, we were all right. Shallan is Chana’s daughter. She was the Herald the Stormfather felt die the night of Gavilar’s assassination. And she was the one who broke, not Taln. Taln never broke.

Oh. We knew Ashyn was bad, that they essentially nuked the place. But. Oh.

Szeth is figuring it out! Good on him!

Full circle. The Wandersail.

I’m on chapter 116, and folks? I am stressed.

I should have known it was Ishar, with those tortured spren.

Oh, so that fourth moon stuff was pre-Honor weirdness? Seriously, what is up with this fourth moon?

Dawn of the final day. 24 hours remain. I think my timing is technically off on putting this here, but it felt wrong to put it on the beginning of day nine.

They say it’s always darkest before the dawn, but this does feel pretty hopeless.

Wit’s story! At last!

That wasn’t much of a story, Hoid.

The Wind keeps telling Kaladin ‘I’m sorry’, and that is freakin’ ominous

Sebarial and Palona got married! ¡Finalmente!

Ooh, Branderson. You went and did it. Curses. Poor Gavinor.

Heck. It’s the trolley problem

Adolin gets a Shardleg? I was right! Deadeye Knight!

Unoathed? Now that’s a name!

Ten people with Shardblades alight. The suckling child. The burdens of nine (become mine… oh Almighty release me). These are all from the TWOK death rattles.

It’s all the death rattles. Gosh, rereading those will be a punch in the gut.

From 144 on, my commentary is only screaming.

Kaladin has a herald stone. I. *screams*

Okay, some more thoughts! Not at all cohesive. I. Need to reread some stuff. The Lost Metal, for Hoid. The Way of Kings, at least the death rattles, for the gut punch. The Sunlit Man, to see what clues were there.

I love the reveal that the in-world book was written by Szeth's wife. He really does get to heal. (Way to meet your future wife though. 'hello. can you help me bury a body.')

All the pieces will come into play now. This book just expands like crazy. The back half is definitely going to require High Cosmere Knowledge, and we're moving steadily into the more sciencey side.

I uphold my mid-read statement that W&T does feel more like a fantasy novel than ROW.

My two quibbles: The writing feels a bit modern. I'm willing to excuse that as we move into the more tech-magic fusion stage of the Cosmere. Plus, that modernity will fade a bit with time, I would assume. In the future it won't read the same. I wouldn't have written it that way, but there were only a few places where my mental editor's pen came out where I really wanted to change what was written. I know a lot of other people feel this way too, and a lot more strongly than I do. The second is the overall length of the book. And this is something that I think happens to a lot of bigger authors as they go on, so it's definitely not just Sanderson. Some of this could have been trimmed down. But that's pretty common, you can see it with a lot of authors once they get big and can go back and forth with their editors more.

This sure was a conclusion, but it definitely isn't the end.

#w&t spoilers #chatters from the nightsky #wind and truth spoilers #<- I believe this is the tag the wider fandom is using so I'll throw that in there as well #stormlight archive

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elisysd · 1 year ago

Text

51. Heaven knows I should let go, it’s nothing that I don’t already know

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Bad Omens - 5SOS

She was not used to triple headers anymore. She had barely the time to rest when it was already time for Zandvoort. It was always a peculiar atmosphere. People were always very passionate there. She had arrived on Wednesday, to work a little on the side, away from the whole show that would start the next day. She wanted to work on a few documents about the next car sent by Maranello at the beginning of the week. She could have done it in her hotel room but she preferred to work in the atmosphere of the garage, surrounded by the smell of burned rubber and metal.

She sat on the floor and pulled out her laptop from her bag and started to read through the documents, taking notes and writing questions that were popping into her mind. She chewed on her pen. Some data from the testing were not correlating the data from the sim. And it was not as if the gap was minimal which worried her. For a moment she feared that they were going in the wrong direction in the development. A brief vision of a certain USB stick popped into her mind and she briefly regretted not having it near her… She promised herself she wouldn’t use it to work on the current car development but, after all, there was no wrong finding inspiration in a car that was performing really well for the next one. It was not cheating. It would not be the exact same anyway. And a lot of cars were getting inspiration from other teams for their development, there was nothing wrong with it.

As she was focusing on her screen, she heard footsteps coming in the garage. She looked up her laptop. It was weird. No one would come here unless there were mechanics that needed to set up the car and she had checked with her dad, they would only arrive during the afternoon. She stood still, listening to the sounds made by a person who clearly didn’t want to get caught as they seemed to move slowly and tried to stay as quiet as possible. She put her laptop on the side and got up to find herself almost face to face with a man in an elegant black suit.

“Julia? What are you doing here?” asked Carlos, clearly surprised to find her there and could she dare to say, a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m working. I could ask you the same thing.” she replied.

“I’m… going on a trip down memory lane.”

“Reminiscing on the times my dad was kicking your ass back then?” she smiled.

“He was not. We were equally talented teammates.” he scoffed.

“Sure… If you want a full trip to reminisce on your time as a driver, I can get my dad. I’m sure he still has a few videos of you both on tracks.” she was about to take out her phone when Carlos stopped her.

“No! I mean… you don’t need to bother him. So how does it feel for you to join the team?”

“Nice. I’m still getting used to everything.” she said, a bit defensively.

“It’s brave, you know. To stay on the side. To not help the team developing the current car when you could as you’re always near and in Maranello. To wait. I don’t know how you do it. I would sneak around, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. You’re definitely better than me. You follow the rules like your dad and you’re wise like your mom. They must be so proud of you. Their perfect daughter.” he said in a calm voice, slowly turning around her like a lion toying with its prey. She felt a shiver down her spine. “But anyway, I should get going. I have people to meet.”

“Carlos?” she called him out as he was leaving.

“Yes, Julia?”

“Remind me again how many championships you won?” she smiled

She saw a brief glimpse of anger in his eyes as he stared at her before finally leaving. She knew she shouldn’t have said that, that it would only irritate him more and it would come to bite her in the ass. But she hated what he implied, the implicit threats. She should have gone straight to her dad to tell him that Carlos was lurking in the garage but nothing had happened, it was all good and when she came to her room she was caught off guard by Martin standing in the middle of the bedroom, a huge teddy bear in his hands.

“If you don’t want to go to the fair, it’s the fair that comes to you. There is one a few kilometers away from the track and we went there with a few people from the team. I knew you would find that boring so I didn’t ask you but… yeah. I won that for you.” he explained, blushing as she was staring at him not knowing what to say.

“Oh well, that’s a nice gesture… thanks.” she awkwardly smiled.

“You don’t like it.”

“No! I do… it’s just… I don’t even know if I’m supposed to tell you anything.” she sighed.

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s about the car and data. It’s not matching. I’m trying to understand where the gap comes from but I fear we are making a huge mistake in the development. And Carlos was there for no reason and that worries me…”

“Hey, breathe Julia. I trust your judgment and I trust your skills. Whatever the problem is, you’ll find it, I know it. And as for Carlos… maybe he wanted to see Elijah? It wouldn’t be surprising, he is one of his sponsors.”

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this weekend.”

Martin forced her to sit on her bed as he got behind her and tried to appease her by applying slow massages on her neck and shoulders.

“You have to relax. Nothing bad will happen, you’ll see.”

She hoped he was right.

Ethan hated Zandvoort and what it meant for him. It was always a very tense weekend where every single one of his moves were scrutinized. Everywhere he was going, the shadow of his father was looming above him. He could see it in the eyes of the fans, in the eyes of the race stewards who were looking at him and of course in the sea of orange he was welcomed with anywhere he would go. He didn’t consider him as his own homerace, too much history, too much weight on his shoulders with the feeling he had to have a good result there. But still, he had a special helmet for his dad adding a gold lion, the five championships he had won with the years associated with them. It was simple but with a strong meaning, a way for him to embrace his lineage, hoping it would help him to make peace with it.

The qualifying had been great, far from the pole he had been on the week before, with a nice sixth place, behind his teammate. Kyle was on pole and able to race, making Ethan feel relieved. He knew how racing was Kyle’s everything and he hoped it would go well for him. On Sunday morning, when he arrived, he immediately found his dad and mom talking to Charles and Julia. Max had a hand on the girl’s shoulder and was laughing with the Ferrari team’s principal. He rolled his eyes. If only he could find a way to avoid them… but he knew it was useless and he was a better man than that. Or at least was trying. He straightened his posture, put a nice smile on his face and went to the group. He put his arm around his mom’s shoulders, kissing the side of her head as he shook Charles’ hand and winked at his dad. He didn’t want to ignore the brunette who was staring at him but he didn’t know how to act around her anymore. So he stared, in a very awkward way as he saw her blushing and looking at her feet.

“We have to go on a run as soon as you’re back in Monaco, Leclerc! It’s been so long.” said Max.

“Eager for me to beat your ass?” replied Charles with a smile.

“Julia? Care to join us, so you can be the referee.”

“I’m not sure I can keep up with you…” she grimaced.

“Enrico said you made great progress, I’m sure you could, Ju’.”

“Maybe Ethan can come. So you have company while you’re dad and I are fighting.” added Max.

“Dad… I hate running!” whined the blonde.

“You need to work on that cardio, son. It’s important.”

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure Ethan’s cardio is doing more than okay. His girlfriend is taking good care of it.” Julia snorted, arching an eyebrow.

“Girlfriend? What do you mean?” said Max, caught a little off guard.

“She is talking about Sofia.” Ethan explained.

“Sofia? Are we talking about the same Sofia?” Max repeated.

“Because he is screwing more than one Sofia?”

“Sofia is my therapist.”

He saw Julia’s mouth open and close, before blushing of shame and for a moment he felt like an idiot for having played her. From the corner of his eyes he saw Charles and Max leaving and he quickly apologized to the girl.

“So… you’re seeing someone.” she said when they finally were alone.

“Yeah. It feels good. I’m starting to understand myself a bit more. She helps me feel more grounded, focus on my races. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad. I… I hope you’re not doing that for me? You don’t change for me, I mean.”

“I do that for me. I needed it. I do that for me, then for the sake of my family and the unresolved issues I have with dad… and you. I want to understand where and why we went wrong. So I can be better. I want to be a better man.”

“Don’t change too much, though. I like it when you’re a little asshole.” she smiled, nudging him in the shoulders.

When he got back to the hospitality, he was grinning. His interactions with Julia were still awkward but it started to go from weird awkward to nice awkward. They had still a long way to go before even considering being friends. Somehow, it was still hurting him. He missed her. A lot. Even if it was just her screaming at him, it was still something. He hated her indifference more than anything else and it had always been this way ever since they were kids. If back then he wanted nothing more than to make her frown, now he wanted her smile. But he would take everything she would give him.

He arrived in the hospitality, right on time for the pre-race meeting. He sat down next to Chloe who was already there, reading her notes. She smiled at him giving him a high five as he started to do the same. They went through the procedures and the strategy one last time and when they finally got out of the meeting room, Ethan wanted nothing more but the peace and quiet of his driver’s room. But when he opened the door, he didn’t think of finding Louis there, reading on his sofa.

“Louis? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to hang out with you before the race. There are too many people in the Ferrari’s hospitality.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Yeah, I told mom.” he shrugged.

In fact, even if Louis had indeed told his mom that he was going to find Ethan, Lyanna had not heard him and was now freaking out, in the arms of her husband who was on the verge of sending a search party for his son. Julia had tried to reach him but quickly stopped as he had left his phone in the hospitality.

“He can’t be far away.” tried to reason Martin who was rubbing her back to appease her.

“You don’t know my brother! The last time he ran away, we found him alone, sitting in the middle of the woods.” Julia harshly said.

“Is there a place he would like to be in the paddock? Maybe a quiet place?” Martin ignored her.

“He hates attending races… I know he said he was going more to see Ethan than to support dad.”she sighed.

“Maybe he is with him? Do you think he could have gone to Ethan, to wish him luck?”

“I mean…. Maybe? It’s a possibility that is worth trying.” she said, putting on her coat and walking towards the exit.

“Go, Ju’, we'll stay there in case he comes back.” her dad told her.

She ran to the Maserati hospitality as fast as she could, Martin following behind, but was stopped in her tracks by the security officer.

“I’m sorry miss but you don’t have the badge to enter.”

“I know but… I have reasons to think my brother is with Ethan and…”

“Sure. That’s a new one. Get the hell out of here.”

“But mister…”

“Julia? Is everything alright?”

“Chloe, oh my gosh I’ve never been so happy to see you! Have you seen Louis?” Julia asked.

“Well, no… but I can ask if Ethan saw him.”

“Please do.”

They waited a few minutes before Ethan arrived, Louis right next to him and Julia ran to her brother, not without glaring at the security officer. She hugged the young teen as he didn’t really understand where the sudden burst of affection was coming from.

“But I told mom!” he complained when Julia explained the whole family was freaking out.

“Next time make sure she listens to you, Louis.” Julia replied.

“How did you find me this fast, though?”

“Martin thought you would be with Ethan, since you like him…” Julia explained.

“Saint Martin coming to save the day once again…” Ethan commented with a half smile.

“I mean, Louis loves you. I just thought that if someone could at least help us out it would be you.”

“Next time he does something like that and tells me he warned someone, I’ll text you. To make sure.”

She smiled at him, running her hands in the hair of her brother as he was making an annoyed face.

“We should go… you have a race to focus on and so does Martin.” Julia finally said when the silence became too awkward.

As they were leaving, Ethan screamed at them to wait a moment and ran to the hospitality, before coming back to them, a Maserati’s cap between his hands which he put on Louis’ head.

“I need my number one fan to wear it so it brings me luck.” he smiled, hugging him.

Seeing Ethan acting all sweet and genuine around her brother never failed to make her feel fuzzy and warm inside. She joined her mom after Martin left her at the hospitality. She didn’t even remember if he had kissed her. She was surprised to not care that much.

“Ethan is great with your brother.” Lyanna said after Julia told her everything.

“He had always been.”

“You know, I saw how Louis changed around Ethan. He is more open towards people, more expressive, less in his own bubble. It’s great. I never thought I would see him like this. You know what Louis told me yesterday?”

Julia shook her head as her mom was clinging to her mug of tea.

“He said he wanted to go to university when he would be able to. He doesn’t feel ready for high school but he says he wants to study more outside, in the library. And he wants to take guitar classes. When I asked him why guitar, he said that Ethan told him it was the way to get girls. I laughed because he said it in such a casual tone, you should have heard him… Ethan helped him so much and I don’t think he knows it. I want to thank him. Would you be okay if I was inviting him for dinner, maybe when the season will be over?”

“No, of course not. You’re right, it’s a great idea. Louis will be happy.” she replied with a lump in her throat.

“What about you?”

“Mom… I think I made a huge mistake.”

Ethan felt calm in his car. The orange army of fans wasn’t phasing him anymore, his dad watching him wasn’t giving him any added pressure, really he was okay and ready to race. So when the lights went out he confidently maneuvered his car through to avoid any overtakes. In front, Elijah was already fighting with Kyle for the lead of the race, something the American was not ready to give up on so easily. As for Ethan he was following Chloe closely. The strategy was simple, since she was in front, he had to protect her until the team would tell him otherwise.

The laps went on one by one and for the first time in months Julia found the race boring. Each car was following each other without anything interesting happening. No crazy overtakes, no strategy mishaps, no scary move from anyone. Julia even had to admit that she got so bored that she had started drawing to take her mind off things. The more she was thinking about Martin and their relationship, the more she started to come to terms with the fact that she had jumped into it blindly and stupidly. It would never work out no matter how hard she would try. It had been sweet and lighthearted, it had helped her heal a little and get her confidence back. But that was it, they wouldn’t go further than that. It was doomed to fail from the very start, she had always known deep down. She had been too stubborn to admit it. She hadn’t been fair to Martin either and even less to her. Now, she had to find the courage to tell him.

“Fuck, Ferrari is ferrarying…” swore Lyana, making Julia jumped, not used to hear her mother swear.

“What is happening?” Julia asked, looking up from her drawing.

“They screwed up Elijah’s pitstop. He is now P15…”

“He is going to come back in front.” Julia commented, focusing more on the race.

It didn’t take long for him to regain his position, behind Martin this time. They were both aggressively fighting for the P3 and Julia was surprised to not hear any team’s orders asking them to bring both cars home safely. Elijah was pressuring Martin and Julia knew better than anyone how prone to mistake he could be under it. She hoped with everything she had that nothing would happen. The team didn’t need that after the comeback in the standings they had managed before the summer break.

Julia anxiously started to bite her nails until she heard the whole hospitality gasped before she saw the images. They both had crashed. On the replay, she could see Elijah going for the inside and overtaking Martin but as he drove past Martin, his rear slightly touched Martin’s front and as he tried to stay on the road he slipped and took Elijah with him in the gravel.

Both drivers were getting out of the car angry and Julia swore she had seen Elijah pushing Martin in the shoulder. For a moment she wondered if she should go to him, to comfort him but now Ethan was in the fight for a podium as well as Ludwig, Kyle and Chloe and she really wanted to watch her friends. Martin probably needed time to cool down.

When he had seen the Ferrari’s out, Ethan had smiled inside his helmet. Now he was in the fight for a new podium and nothing could stop him, this time he would stand on a step and he wouldn’t have any doubts of where he was supposed to be.

“You’re faster than Chloe, we are switching positions.”

“Copy.”

And indeed his teammate slowed down a little in the long straight line to let him pass, giving him full permission to go and catch Ludwig to take the P2. He managed to do so in the penultimate lap and when he finally crossed the line after Kyle he let out a scream of joy, quickly followed by his race engineer.

“Second P2 in a row, let’s fucking go!”

“You know what they say, Ethan. Never two without three.”

“No, next time I want a win. I’m tired of being second place.”

Julia was clapping her hands in front of the race results. She was so happy for her friends but most of all happy for Ethan. She knew how underpressure he must have felt during the weekend and seeing him achieving a podium in a race he was more than dreading, she was proud of him. Whatever his therapist was doing with him, it was working. She got out of the hospitality to face a journalist that cornered her and shoved his camera right to her face.

“And we are with Julia Leclerc, future member of Ferrari’s engineering team. We all saw the crash that happened today between your drivers. Is that a lack of communication between Martin and Elijah or a lack of communication inside the team? We were all surprised to notice no team orders.”

“Well… I mean.. I don’t know, that’s a question you should ask to their team principal.”

“We also saw a very nice battle towards the end, what did you think of it?”

“Of course, Kyle is an exceptional driver. It shouldn’t surprise anyone to see him win another race. He is the kind of guy who, when he starts on pole, nothing can stop him. But I’m really astonished by Ethan’s driving lately. It’s so calm and precise, he always had an amazing racing intelligence but I feel like he improved a lot on it. And his overtakes are one of the cleanest of the grid. It’s just a matter of time before he stands on the highest step of the podium. Truth be told, if I were a team principal I would try my best to sign him and give him the car he deserves because the car he is in currently is not made to fight for pole positions and podiums. That’s how talented he is.”

She didn’t know where it was coming from but she couldn’t have helped herself to spill her guts to the journalist. And it felt good. She smiles and thanked him before running to the podium's celebrations.

She made her way to the front right in time for the trophies to be given. Ludwig, Ethan and Kyle had a huge smile on their faces and when the champagne popped, she had never seen them being this happy to spread it. They were drenched and Julia was sure that the hug they were giving to one another would be on the front pages of newspapers.

When she came back to the hospitality to find her boyfriend, his race engineer told her that he had left straight after the meeting. He didn’t even bother to send her a text to tell her he was already back at the hotel. When she arrived in the room, he was scrolling on his phone, barely looking at her. She laid down next to him, trying to catch his attention.

“If I were a team principal I would try my best to sign him and give him the car he deserves because the car he is in currently is not made to fight for pole positions and podiums. That’s how talented he is.” he said in a bitter tone.

“Martin..”

“I don’t even want to talk about it, Julia.” he cut her.

“I’m sorry… he asked me about the race and…”

“No matter what it will always be him. You always come back to him. Always! When I’m right here. I could give you the world Julia, I want to but you don’t let me!”

“I’m trying! You said it was enough for you!” she argued.

“Maybe I lied! Maybe I was wrong! Maybe it’s not enough. Maybe I thought I could make you forget him, I could make you happier, I could be better than him. But I can’t fight against your feelings Julia! He is not physically there but he is everywhere!”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“I don’t know? Fight for me! For once, stop running away and fight for something! Choose me.”

“You can’t ask me that! That’s not fair!”

“Because you’ve been fair with me? That’s rich coming from you.” he laughed, looking at her like a mad man.

“Do you think that I decided to still love Ethan? I can’t control it! And I’m tired of fighting it! I know I’m not fair, and maybe I never was. I know you didn’t deserve it, I know it was selfish to ask you to love me when I can barely look at myself in the mirror. That’s twisted and wrong. I know all of that! But you can’t ask me to choose you. I can’t lie to you. I can’t lie to myself. Not anymore.”

She was about to leave the room, when he called her out and what escaped his lips made her heart sink in her chest.

“I love you, Cecile!”

“Cecile?” she repeated in disbelief.

“I meant, Julia. Gosh, no… I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I…”

She let out an emotionless laugh.

“I don’t want to hear it. It’s useless. We know that this, whatever it is, will never work out. It was stupid to try and I’m sorry if I led you on. Truly. You deserve better. We both deserve better.” she said through the tears.

“So it’s over…”

“It never really started.” she stated, leaving this time for good.

Author's note: So Martin and Julia are over! Finally! And no it doesn't mean that she will run straight into Ethan's arms... you know me now.

What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

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