#the way he reaches for his helmet but its not there...

[kookieskookiejar]

Star Wars AU

Dark Lord Jungkook x Rebellion Rookie Jedi Reader

Synopsis:

When you're captured by The New Order, you were sure the end of your life would come sooner than later, and being a rebellion pandawan, you've accepted death long before it came knocking, and you knew it'd come any time, just not this soon. However, what you didn't expect was to learn how to live under the man everyone fears.

Warnings under the cut!

Warnings: Mild bloodshed, mild slowburn, inaccurate depictions of the star wars universe (I'm sorry, I tried my best 😅), low-key tsundere Jungkook, age gap but both consenting adults, fluff, smut, face sitting, unprotected s*x, ch*king, body worship, Jungkook is a whipped mess ngl.

A/N: DON'T LIKE DON'T READ, SCROLL AND MOVE ON.

The cold cell was almost unbearable, you were obviously not dressed for this, thinking you’d be in Tatooine for a few days for a mission with your master along with the other fellow padawans, and now here you are, surrounded by four concrete walls, not even with your force could you break yourself out, you’re no Luke Skywalker, not even a window in this goddamn cell, not even a water bowl, the paper cup they had given you now drained next to you, your throat parched even though you haven’t spoken a word.

You kick the paper cup out of anger, this wasn’t supposed to happen, if only your master took your advice and ran for it, it was obvious that all of you were outnumbered, especially with him in the equation, you shudder, recalling the chill that ran down your spine, the scene was everyone’s worst nightmare, seeing that red lightsaber glow in the dark, his cape bellowing whilst a sandstorm brews behind because of the engine of his ship.

Lord Jungkook is his name, and he’s the current leader of The New Order, and he’s as ruthless as they come, everyone who used to know him describes him as a cold blooded killer, that he strives to prove himself to be even more cruel than Darth Vader, that he wanted to exceed the image of what was deemed the best, or the worst, depending on your political stance.

You muster up a weak depreciating chuckle, all your life, abandoned by your parents, sacrificing your childhood for the never ending training, and for what? Just to die this fucking soon in a worn down cell.

Your life has no meaning, all that pain and all those sleepless nights for nothing, no one’s going to remember you, you’ll just be another statistic, if you’re lucky enough that is, so many jedis are killed and no one finds out until months later, and that’s if they found the body or someone heard the news through word of mouth.

Before you could spiral any further down, someone unlocks your cell, three stormtroopers march in, heaving you up to your feet.

“Walk, and don’t try anything funny,” the clone demanded, his blaster pointed right at the juncture of your neck.

You don’t know where they’re taking you, every hallway looks the same, the same stark white hallway with lights that are too bright for your eyes, now you know why everyone wears a goddamn helmet here, you’re getting a migraine just from walking these few minutes.

When you finally reach a lift to the top floor, you were surprised by the dark interior, and that’s when you feel it, the same chilling feeling running down your spine, your hairs standing on its ends, immediately scanning your surroundings, looking for a way out.

“Don’t even think about it, walk,” the guard next to you says while the other requests for entrance with the other guard that’s sitting at the reception, the one next to you, stiffens up when those doors slid open.

There, a figure stands with their front facing the windows that show the beautiful red planet at a distance, the planet looking so much smaller from this height.

Jungkook is so much taller from a closer distance, you can see the back of his head, his hair gelled neatly, his helmet perched on the windowsill.

When the troopers leave, he finally turns to look at you, and you stop breathing briefly, not because of his force, but because of how drop dead gorgeous he is, his big piercing eyes stare right into your soul, his face screwed into an emotionless expression, but one thing that you can just tell from his face is that he’s not someone who’d let someone off lightly if he gets pissed off.

“You’re the one who tried to throw that boulder at my face, you’re more powerful than the other padawans” he states, rounding his desk with slow strides, his eyes calculating every micro expression that you refuse to show.

“Why? Hurt your pride?” you asked, sarcasm dripping in your tone, might as well piss him off and have his lightsaber plunged in your abdomen, it’s better to make this death quick.

“No, in fact, you piqued my interest, you’re not like the others, you’re smart, more powerful, I bet you’re not your master’s favourite, you intimidate him too much, I bet, I can offer you so much more,” Jungkook offers, leaning back onto his desk as he watches you with a quirk of his lips, his first expression of the night.

“No thanks, training under you would be even worse than that old man, just kill me like how you probably had the rest of them killed,” you say after a heave of dry laughter, that’s all you could muster up right now.

“It’d be a waste to just kill you, it’d be wasting too much potential, and I promise I’ll reward you generously, I’ll appreciate you more than that old geezer,” Jungkook banters, as if he could just tell from your face that you were treated unfairly under your master, now you know why he’s at the top, when he can’t kill his way up, he sweet talks his way through.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” you ask, pulling the thin jacket closer to your body for warmth, is this guy numb to feeling cold even?

“I won’t, you have my word… isn’t this arrangement better than death?” Jungkook says with a quirk of his brow.

“I thought someone like you would understand that death is better than many things in life in a time like this,” you say, looking into the dark space, gaze faraway, suddenly lost in thought, death feels very welcoming now, after what you've been through, and how there seems to be nothing waiting for you in the future.

You got so used to the feeling of Jungkook’s presence that you didn’t even realise he was next to you until he draped his jacket over your shoulders.

“I see myself in you, I won’t be like your old master, you might be wondering why I’d choose to do this… let’s just say, I don’t want you to end up in worse hands,” Jungkook says with an amusing glimmer in his eyes.

“Aren’t you the worst of them all?” you ask, turning to him, the movement has his scent wafting up your nostrils, and boy doesn’t he smell refreshing against all the desensitised clones and their hard suits.

“To others maybe, but I’m willing to be better towards you, it’s always only been a matter of choice for me,” Jungkook’s nowhere near a good person, but hearing him say this, when his hands are stained with endless bloodshed of his victims; it’s as if he could sense what you’re thinking because he speaks up before you could.

“I only kill those who don’t surrender…half of the time at least,” Jungkook adds after checking the stats at the back of his head, he doesn’t enjoy sugarcoating.

“Fine, but I’m blasting myself out of space with no oxygen if you piss me off,” you don’t why you’re agreeing to his offer when pretty much lost any desire to continue living on this life, it’s a stretch to hope that being on the dark side would be any better, but you’re willing to try, you have nothing to lose afterall.

Training with Jungkook is hard, but you don’t feel as burnt out, maybe it’s also the fact that Jungkook is a busy man, hence training never goes beyond 3 hours, it could be also the fact that you are very well fed here, no more fearing for a lack of supplies or eating beyond your limit when you’re no longer a pandawan under your master who was always on the run with a bunch of other pandawans where everything was stretched thin.

Today is no different, other than the fact that you’re blind folded, you’ve done this before, but you’re definitely no match against the Lord of the dark side of all people.

“You have to focus on the force, don’t be intimidated by my presence, just act like I’m R9F7,” you hear Jungkook say before you hear the robot himself speak up.

“Master, Miss almost took off my entire arm the last time I trained with her!” The robot speaks up in panic.

“Well I’m not you, am I? It’ll take a lot more to take off my arm,” Jungkook says before he deflects the metal stick in your hand, “Good job, you’re doing much better,” Jungkook praises before you manage to catch him again, having managed to pinpoint his presence, a brief sword fight breaks out between the two of you before Jungkook calls for a stop, his nimble fingers taking off your blindfold.

“Good job, you’re dismissed for the day, join me for dinner later, I’ll send R9F7 to fetch you,” Jungkook says before he retreats to the other side of the training room where the gym equipments are at, starting his own training of the day, he never fails to keep his body in its best condition.

“Dinner, with who?” you ask, usually you just eat with everyone else in the canteen where everyone else goes to, there’s not many places to go to on this ship anyways, but you’ve never seen Jungkook go down to have dinner with anyone else, you assume he eats in his own quarters or something.

“Just me, why? I’m not enough for you now, is that it?” Jungkook asks, obviously joking, but you can't read his expression, given that he's currently doing pull ups, his arms and back slightly distracting to you, just the slightest, you tell yourself.

“No! It’s just that, I thought you needed to show up to some event and I needed to show up or something,” you say, thanking R9F7 for fetching you a glass of water.

“I don’t have an audience with anyone yet, maybe in a month’s time, this is just a casual dinner,” Jungkook tells you while he starts doing his archer pull ups, and you’re so glad that damn robot had gone to refill your glass of water, that damn metal head cannot know you’re gawking at the way Jungkook’s arms flex against his weight, muscles rippling while your mouth waters.

“Y-yeah, okay, is there anything else?” you ask after snapping yourself out of that trance that’s stronger than any force.

“No, you’re free to leave if you want to,” Jungkook says, “but you have lessons with Captain Yoongi right?” Jungkook, being the busy man he is, sure is very clear with your schedule.

“Yeah,” you confirm, preparing to take your leave.

“Don’t crash into anymore asteroids, we have limited fighter ships on this ship, when we’re back on base, you can start making more mistakes,” Jungkook reminds you, obviously poking fun at you, if the tone wasn’t obvious enough, the slight upturn of his lips is a giveaway when he drops himself down to face you, you’re slightly taken aback, this is definitely not what most people see when they interact with Jungkook.

“If I’m making more mistakes when we’re back to base then I’m a failure,” you say with a huff after gathering your bearings, recalling all the moments your old master called you that.

“In all of my years of experience, I’ve met many failures, and you’re definitely not one, being bad at something is nature, being bad at fying a ship isn’t the end of the world, I could always get you a droid to do it, you just need to know how to get yourself out of an emergency if the droid isn’t available, it’s not a big deal,” Jungkook says before he finishes his set, the joking tone in his voice gone.

“Don’t worry, I like flying ships, hopefully I won’t need a droid to fly me everywhere, I’ll take my leave, or Captain Yoongi is gonna throw a fit again,” you say before retreating to the door.

“See you tonight,” you hear Jungkook say before you parrot it back to him.

You thought it’d be awkward to have dinner with Jungkook, but it’s going better than you ever imagined. Right now, you’re talking about your day with Captain Yoongi.

“He was like, ‘Kid, I’m not used to teaching someone who I’m not allowed to get mad at, and the fact that I won’t be able to even if I want to, I don’t lash out at women, don’t want my mother to pop in my head and give me a scolding’, then he started cursing at how the force works,” you retell before he breaks into yet another fit of laughter.

“Why did he say that even? What did you do to the old man?” Jungkook asks before he continues cutting into his steak, patiently waiting for you to continue your story.

“I said if you keep sighing you should just let a droid teach me,” you say before Jungkook doubles over, his piece of sliced steak forgotten, and at that moment, you think Jungkook has a pretty smile.

Today, you’re having a bad day, you couldn’t sleep well last night, your insomnia is always worse at the tail end of your menstrual cycle, so you’re naturally feeling really moody today, the sleep deprivation and changing hormones are getting to you.

Unfortunately for you, today you’re starting a new form of training, and it’s said to be hard, Jungkook described this as a form of virtual projection, crazy how a pair of goggles could teleport the two of you to a realistic battle.

You groan when the words ‘defeat’ flash across your sight.

“You need to focus, if you can’t get through this stimulation, how can you survive out there?” Jungkook asks, he doesn’t sound mad, he just sounds…realistic, for a lack of better word.

“Spar me,” Jungkook says before he gets into position.

“We can just do this without the goggles,” you suggest, but get into position anyways, sighing as you do so, this is going to be a long day.

“The wooden sticks are all the way in the gym, come on, just a little bit longer,” Jungkook says, but he could see the way your shoulders drop.

“Start,” Jungkook says before he advances onto you, he knows you’d never make the first move, your fighting style is always more on the defense.

The small stick that’s supposed to imitate your lightsaber hums when it clashes with Jungkook’s in the game, It’s like your body awakens, your brain going into fight mode when you dodge Jungkook’s second attack, planning on striking your leg after he identified that he can’t continue advancing with the first move, and you use the force to propel yourself backwards, your master never likes it when you do that, says it’s a sign of cowardice, but you’re not like the others, you strive for survival, which is why you didn’t think twice before you used the force to throw a rock at Jungkook, which he quickly sliced apart with his lightsaber, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“I had no idea you could do that in here, must be why we need to wear these gloves and weird socks on our legs,” Jungkook says before you see the mischief in his eyes, and that’s when you see it, his hands grasping the air in a similar movement to yours before you see a wrecked ship being hurled towards you.

You did a quick backflip, using the force to lift you in the air higher, landing back on the ground on your two feet.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Jungkook says before he advances onto you again, you deflect his attacks, the red of the imitation weapon glows dangerously close to your body, you would’ve been able to feel the heat of it if the two of you were using real lightsabers.

“Come on, this can’t be the best you can give me,” Jungkook taunts before he reels back and does a quick turn, catching you off guard, and immediately you panic, taking one hand off the stick to summon the force to push him back, sending Jungkook backwards, skidding on one knee to balance himself, before you feel yourself naturally wielding the lightsaber towards Jungkook, and right before you would’ve stabbed him, not that he’d get hurt in the simulation, you stopped, recalling that this is merely training, and that you’re not in actual danger, that Jungkook wouldn’t hurt you.

“You knocked the wind out of me, I had my guard down, but that was good,” Jungkook says as he gets up from his kneeled position.

“Sorry, I lost myself just now,” you said, your hand fidgeting with the stick.

“Don’t worry about it, being immersed in a fight is a good thing,” Jungkook says before he takes the goggles off, “let’s stop here for today, get some rest, you look like you need it,” Jungkook says before he disappears from your view, and you do the same, the virtual warzone disappearing right in front of your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep all that well last night, I’ll be better tomorrow,” you say as you pack up the equipment back to where it was.

“Don’t apologise, all of us have bad days, and if it’s too much, you could always let me know, get sufficient rest, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jungkook says with a comforting smile before he leaves, probably rushing off to a meeting with the council or something.

The first rumble of the spaceship had you jerking awake from the comfort of your bed, bounding out of bed with unsteady footsteps, you hold onto the side of your cabinet to look out your window, and you catch sight of x-wings and their lasers hitting the ship, immediately you start to sway at your feet.

You get dressed as quick as possible before running down to the control centre where you know Jungkook will probably be at by now.

No one questions when you step into the room, and you’ve never seen Jungkook this serious ever since the day you first met him, brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, the situation must not be looking too ideal, but still he senses you when you’re near him, turning away from the panels to look at you briefly.

“Not hurt?” he asks, Captain Yoongi casts a curious glance at his boss, but he remains silent.

“No, the protective shields on my side held up,” you answer, it’s nothing, standard procedure to check if the ship is alright, why did Yoongi find it weird?

Jungkook nods before he turns back to Yoongi, taking note of the situation and how their fighters are doing.

“It’s not ideal, there’s quite a large amount of those fuckers, half of our lasers are down, and the shields are at 40%,” Yoongi informs.

“Tell them to prepare my ship, I’ll handle them myself,” Jungkook says before he turns, preparing to descend down to the flight deck, his cape bellowing at his quick movement, you never liked capes, but you guess it’s tradition for the supreme leaders on the dark side.

“Wait! Alone?” you ask, a sliver of worry blooming in your chest, Jungkook always seemed invincible in your eyes when you only knew him through all the rumours, disregarding him as a person, that he might die, but now that you know him personally, he doesn’t seem as invincible anymore when he's no longer a myth in your head.

“Is that an issue?” Jungkook asks, confusion clear as day on his face, but his tone authoritative, you don’t dare to question him, it’s not your place to do so, especially not in front of everyone, Jungkook lets you get away with a lot of things, but this is probably not one of them.

“No, not an issue,” you say before letting go of his arm, and when he walked out, you could immediately see the tension in the people’s shoulders drop.

“He’s gonna be fine, kid, he’s got a reputation after all, he earned that through all the blood on his hands,” Yoongi reminds you before he gets back to his job, typical of your other mentor, he’s never the type to communicate more than what’s enough.

You stand idle as you watch the chaos unfold, Jungkook’s ship easily distinguishable by the additional purple streaks he had them installed when he didn’t like how his ship isn’t all that different from the others.

It swerves and dodges the x-wings’ lasers, zooming past the slower ones that got distracted by the other tie-fighters with a blast from his blasters attached to his ship, the red lasers dashing past, making contact with the jets before it blows up.

Every time he flies too fast and close to the exploding ships, you fear his ship is the one getting blown up.

The tension in your own shoulders drops slightly when you could see that the empire is winning with the dwindling numbers of ships.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses, but before you could ask why, you see it, a large rebel mothership emerges from a lightspeed portal, surrounded by more x-wings.

“We need more people out there! Deploy the remaining teams!” Yoongi shouts into the intercom system.

“How are the stakes looking now, Cap?”you ask as you watch, then you feel it, the tremor of the bond, the one that you thought would never be established between you and Jungkook, the ‘force’ bond that establishes between a master and a padawan, you can feel how stress he is, his anger sizzling through the air that only you can feel in this room.

“Not very good, it’s going to need a lot of our firepower to take out the mothership,” Yoongi tells you before he barks more orders at the people around him, directing them on how to take down the mothership with the bigger blasters attached to the ship.

Suddenly, a staff let out a gasp of alarm.

“Captain, one of main blasters are jammed, we were supposed to use it to blow out the mothership, at least to deter it before we decide to hyperspace jump if needed,” the man said, but he immediately clams up when he sees how dark Yoongi’s face had gotten significantly darker.

“And there’s no way to fix it?” Yoongi asks, his fists balled at his sides.

“The droid that is supposed to fix that section of the ship got damaged by a stray laser from the battle going on nearby,” the woman next to the man explains, you can sense the overwhelming amount of fear emitting from the two of them, the rest of the staff’s emotions peaking as well.

“I can defend myself out there, tell me how to fix it,” you ask the man, the poor guy not knowing how to respond at first, expecting the pandawan of Lord Jungkook to be just as brutal as the man himself, but before the man could answer to your demands, Yoongi speaks out immediately.

“No, if anything happens to you, Jungkook would have someone’s head,” Yoongi explains, arms crossed against his chest, his eyes stern.

“Well, if we die, he would have no heads to behead so…” you remind Yoongi, rocking on your heels, you know he’d budge, Yoongi is a man of logic, and he always says he isn’t paid enough to be this stressed out about this job.

“Fine, don’t you dare die,” Yoongi warns you before he delves right into the logistics of what went wrong and how to fix it.

“I’m serious kid, don’t you dare fucking die, kid,” Yoongi warns one last time as he helps you with the oxygen mask and oxygen tank.

“Make sure you don’t damage the hose from your tank, there’s a spare tank under hatches where the ship is marked red if you run out, a red flash would keep appearing if there’s a leak or if the oxygen levels start getting low,” Yoongi reminds you one last time.

“I know I know, Cap, you’ve told me so many times I’ve lost count on how many times you repeated this,” you joke as you try to cope with your nerves.

“Okay, I’ll be watching you from here, don’t get out of sight,” was the last thing Yoongi said before you stepped into the escape hatch area before the doors opened and the sight of the on-going battle greets you without any barriers, goosebumps rise on your skin when you take the first step into zero gravity.

Immediately your feet were jerked to stick to the surface of the ship, the magnetic shoes work at least, you think to yourself.

Following Yoongi’s directions, you quickly located the main blaster that was stuck.

However, before you could remove the debris that had the blaster stuck underneath its hatch, you caught the attention of a x-wing that had just took down a few tie fighters, and immediately it fires at your direction, the shield is still up, but you’re not part of the ship, you’d get strike down instantly, and so you did what your fight or flight response told you to do, and that was to roll away before your hand shoots out to jerk the ship away, but sadly, due to its weight, the ship barely moved, it was onto you again once you were back on your two feet.

The x-wing was coming onto you quick, diving down to where you stood, and you let the force guide you, doing a flip to get out of its way before your hand quickly retrieves your lightsaber that was strapped to your space suit to strike the wing of the x-wing, a huge chunk of the wing was chopped off and the ship goes skidding behind you before it comes crashing against the exterior of the control room, the ship blows up but the mothership is unscathed due to the shield barrier surrounding the ship.

A tremor goes through your body when you see Jungkook’s personal ship in your peripheral vision, you can feel the worry in the bond the both of you share, you don’t dwell on his reaction, quickly getting on your feet to fix the blaster as soon as possible, finally getting it unstuck.

Jungkook’s ship makes its way near you again, and you think he’s going to give you a quick ride back to the docking area, but before he could do so, you see a few ships tailing his, coming a little too close to comfort to where both you and Jungkook are situated, an ambush, a flurry of red and white chasing the lone black ship, the rebellion are really eyeing every opportunity to have Jungkook dead.

It was instinctual, you were raised to not have any fear, to die for the cause, even though you weren’t all that dedicated to any of the sides you have been on, but Jungkook is Jungkook, he’s not a side, and you don’t understand why you’re risking your life for him, but it just felt right when you harness all the force in your being to constrain the three ships together, the one in the middle exploding from the pressure while the other two begin to catch fire from the damage, the damage must’ve caught Jungkook’s attention, because before you felt all the energy fade from your body, you see his ship turn its back to you, flashes of red lasers are the last thing you see before your body slumps, your vision blacking out to fade into darkness.

Soft, to the point of being close to what you imagine sleeping on a cloud would feel like, is this how death feels like? So all the jedi afterlife world was complete bullshit? Not surprised, you always thought those jedis that claim to see their dead masters were all in such dire and desperate situations that they started having hallucinations.

But then you feel it, the receptors at the tips of your fingers, the smooth sheets under your palm, you’re alive, then you feel yourself jolting out of bed when your eyes pry themselves open in surprise, a gasp leaving your chest as you sit up.

“Miss is awake! I’ll fetch Lord Jungkook immediately!” you hear the voice of a droid say before the sound of the doors opening and closing reaches your ears.

Another droid dashes to tend to you, checking your pulse, your vision, and brain activity.

“Everything seems to be normal, miss, do you need me to fetch you anything?” the droid asks.

“You’re dismissed, I need to get ready for Jungkook’s arrival,” you say before you decide to power off the droid yourself, you're never too comfortable with droids anyways.

You quickly dash to your bathroom to wash up, change and comb your bird nest of hair, god forbid you let anyone see you like this.

When you come out of your bathroom, you spot Jungkook standing next to the droid, the droid rattling off your stats like it’s listing out a list of resources the ship needs when it lands for a refill.

“You shouldn’t have turned him off, what if you fainted in the bathroom?” Jungkook asks, turning to you after the droid was done with the updates.

“I was overexerted from using all that force, all that sleep got me feeling more refreshed than ever, he said I slept for two days straight,” you nod at the droid’s direction.

“Force exertion is the equivalent to getting a serious injury,” Jungkook says as his eyes scan your face for any signs of pain or discomfort, his hand reaches up to feel your forehead, if those doe eyes won’t be the death of you, that hand will be, you thought to yourself mindlessly before the rational part of your brain scolds you and tells those voices to shut up.

When Jungkook finally deemed you alright, the gentleness in his eyes disappeared.

“What were you thinking out there?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Jungkook bursts out, the cold gaze he usually reserves for others now directed to you, but instead of cowering in fear in silence like others, you’re taken aback by that tone directed at you, never once has he ever reprimanded you this way, not even when you were first taken in as hostage, but you’re never the type to back down when a man raises his voice at you.

“Well, maybe I wanted to die! I was ready to die back when I first got here anyways!”

Jungkook is rarely ever speechless, this is the first time you’ve seen him flabbergasted, and in the worst way possible, you've never felt his wrath on you, the effect making your hairs stand on its ends.

“Did you still want to die? All this time? Even after being under my care?” Jungkook asks, his tone deadly, even if you were deaf, you’d be able to feel it through the force.

“I..” but before you could explain yourself out of the situation, or try to help him understand what you're uncertain you're even feeling yourself, you see the familiar bright sliver of his dagger, the one that you know he keeps by his side as a last means of defense, a weapon that is perfectly deadly in the hands of someone with the force.

You quickly dodge out of the way, summoning the force beneath your feet to elevate yourself, the dagger touching the tip of your feet, you're fast on your feet, on defense, but Jungkook has always been quick on offence, it's why the two of you work so well, the sound of a twang sounds behind you when the dagger etches into the wall, just the tip, before it lands on the metal floor.

“Stop defending yourself if you just want to die!” Jungkook bellows before he comes storming towards you, the blazing red glow of his lightsaber emitting off his sharp features.

At this moment, you don't want to die, you don't want to die seeing Jungkook angry, you don't want to die knowing that you had disappointed him, and so you draw your own lightsaber, quickly deflecting his own, the lasers deflecting sparks off each other, your lightsabers a contrast with one another, Jungkook’s being a shade of dark red, and yours being a faint shade of rogue, his eyes widen at the familiar colours, hesitation flickers across his face, and that's when you make your move, summoning force to your forefront to send Jungkook thumbling a few steps backwards while you catch your breath.

“I don't know how I want to live my life yet! I haven’t phased out from the life I led before you picked me up,” you say, your eyes downcast, you don’t know how to face him, in your defence, that’s the harsh truth, you were always wishing to leave, to get out, but you didn’t think that day would actually come until it did, and now you’re lost, all your life, you’ve been drifting aimlessly, a tree without roots, you don’t know your origins, you don’t know your future, and coming to terms to that in front of a person who probably has everything figured out is…shameful.

You finally look up from where your eyes were previously trained on the rough grip you had on the staff of your lightsaber, even though you could feel Jungkook’s hostility decreasing through the feel of the force, you know he isn’t entirely not angry, and your suspicions are confirmed when you’re greeted by the sight of his locked jaw and cold eyes, his lips still set in a thin line, but his lightsaber is switched off.

“I offered you the position of succeeding me, but you won’t take it, I was paving you a path, a way to live your life, you just have to say yes,” Jungkook looks at you, now with more warmth in his eyes, hopeful, but you can’t, you can’t promise him and yourself something that you’re so uncertain of.

“I’m not sure I have the capabilities to lead as well as you, and I’m not sure if that’s the life I want to live, I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you might as well be honest, it’s manipulative to lead him on just for the sake of the benefits of living here, under the protection of the new order and Jungkook, and if he wishes to end your life right here, then he has every right to.

“You disappoint me,” Jungkook mutters before he turns his back to leave the room, leaving you wondering if maybe you should’ve just said yes to appease him, or that maybe death is a better fate than disappointing the person who you actually sort of look up to.

Later in the day, you don’t see Jungkook, everyone’s busy with packing to get ready to return to base, a first for you, you didn’t even know where you would’ve been staying until a droid came over to tell you that it would be responsible for escorting you to your new quarters.

When you finally arrive, you’re greeted by the sight of a healthy green planet, you were quick to get off, with your limited belongings, the droid enthusiastically escorting you to your new quarters, which turns out to be a large unit within the base.

“Everything’s been modelled to suit the aesthetic you had picked prior, miss, the fridge is stocked, heating is available, running water is available, heated water as well, I was also advised to stock up your wardrobe, everything is according to the measurements you sent, and whatever daily necessities you may need, miss, when things run out, just type in what you need in the tablet available by your bedside, miss,” the droid explains with wide gestures and quick steps to show where everything is.

“Thank you, you’re dismissed, I won’t be needing anything else,” you say with a curt bow, to which the droid returns.

“Before I leave, here’s your keycard, miss, but you can use the facial recognition system which can be turned off in the settings panel as well, no one can come into your room without authorisation, so don’t worry about anyone barging into your room, miss, that is all, miss, have a good rest, miss,” the droid says before finally stepping out the door.

So this is where you’ll be staying when you’re not travelling, you look around with a huff, it is nice, but you’ve never lived in such a spacious place before, being on the run meant you had to sleep in tight places with someone in your personal space, maybe you’re a greedy bitch for wanting the luxuries that come with being Jungkook’s pandawan without accepting the duties that come with it, should you leave? Will he kill you if you do? With all the secrets you know, he probably will…this is a deadend for you.

A few days have passed since arriving to base and Jungkook and you have this cold war going on, you’ve only seen him in passing, he hasn’t scheduled a lesson ever since the confrontation, and maybe it’s a good thing, maybe he needs more time to think of what to do with you, in all honesty, you wouldn’t mind just being one of his fighters, at least you’ll get to stay.

There was a sudden fanfare today when you were out for lunch, you got to know what when the waitress sees you looking confused in your spot, watching the soldiers lining up outside a ship.

“You must be new here, that’s Lord and Lady Kim, they’re close friends with Lord Jungkook, dear, they’re the only few that know of this location and can freely travel in and out of base,” she explains before scurrying away when someone flags for her attention. You quickly finish up your food and return to the main building, it’s best to return in case you’re needed for whatever.

Celebrations were still ongoing when you got back, hopping off your hover car and quickly thanking the droid who works in the valet service.

You ask around to find out that the main celebrations are taking place in the grandhall, where major events are held and important announcements are made, which means the waitress was telling the truth about Lord and Lady Kim being very closely affiliated with Jungkook.

You’ve never seen the grandhall being decorated to the nines, so when the droids open the doors for you, you’re surprised by the grandeur decorations spanning the entire room, even the serving droids look freshly waxed, handing out food and champagne to everyone on shiny platters.

You spot Captain Yoongi a few feet away, nursing a glass of whiskey by himself.

“Hey, do you know them personally?” you ask when Yoongi sees you.

“Kind of yeah, but I’m not one of those kiss-assers,” Yoongi jokes with a jerk of his head to where the crowd is gathered, probably where Lord and Lady Kim are.

“You should say hi at least, be a good friend, cap,” you joke.

“The fact that I’m here is already a reach, I could be taking a nap right now and waited until the dinner to see them,” he retrots, finishing his glass before flagging down a droid for another glass, the two of you watching the people silently, if there’s anything the two of you can definitely get by, it’s people watching, or for Yoongi, people judging.

A few minutes later, the crowd finally parts, and everyone can see why, Jungkook has arrived and has gone straight for the couple, when the crowd parts, so does who you think is Lord Kim and Lady Kim, both of them tall in stature with kind smiles on their faces, you avert your gaze to the side and that's when you see him, Jungkook, saying something to Lord Kim, but when he feels your gaze on him, he diverts his attention to your direction, immediately his eyes harden at the sight of you.

“That's my cue to leave, cap,” you say before quickly downing the rest of your glass.

“Are you seriously going to avoid him forever?” Captain Yoongi asks with a scoff, “you and I both know he's never going to come around, so don't be the stubborn one, kid, he's way more stubborn,” he says, and you know what he means by that, Jungkook has an ego that comes with his reputation after all.

“I just need to figure some things out and so does he, I'm gonna go now, don't miss me too much,” you say before quickly sneaking away.

“Mind telling me who's the young lady that's got you so riled up yet you have no plans of killing her?” Namjoon asks his long time friend, Jungkook is like a younger brother to him at this point if he was being honest, so of course he's intrigued by Jungkook acting this way, a first in the many years he's known him since they were children.

“She's my pandawan, but she rejected my offer of having her lead the new order after me,” Jungkook mutters with disappointment before downing his glass, welcoming the burn of the alcohol down his throat.

“She's not that young though, do you plan on retiring early?” Namjoon asks with a shock, his wife, Sejin is intrigued as well, Jungkook isn't the type to hand over power so quickly based on their understanding of their dear friend.

“She's still many years younger than me, I could still take on another pandawan, or she could, was my initial plan, no one else had piqued my interest like she did, everyone else lacks in talent,” Jungkook explains.

“So you're mad she doesn't want to be your successor? Then you should just dismiss her as pandawan, you can always find a new one” Namjoon suggests with a dismissive wave of his hand, but Sejin could tell something was bothering him and that her husband's dismissive suggestion isn't something Jungkook wants to hear.

“Maybe you can keep her as your right hand woman, not everyone wants to be a leader, Jungkook,” she suggests, and from the way she could see you standing there in silence instead of socialising with the rest of the crowd, she could just tell you have no desire to lead an entire nation.

“Quite out of character for you to not kill her once she told you that,” Namjoon notes, which earns a swat on the arm by his wife, she doesn't want someone dying out of her husband's silly suggestion of all things, they did leave behind this life to lead a peaceful one, and that means as less bloodshed as possible, even indirectly.

“I wanted to, but I couldn't,” Jungkook says without further elaboration as he notes that you have already left the hall.

Namjoon and his wife share a look between themselves when they see the little bits of forlorn on his face that aren't obvious to others.

After a long day of training with R9F7 and practice flying a ship with Captain Yoongi, you felt tired and in dire need of a nap after a shower. When you had finally woken up, you thought of heading down the dining hall for dinner, but a small bouquet of flowers by your doorstep had you stopped in your tracks.

Miffed by the sight of it, you quickly look around to see who left it there, but noting that it's dinnertime now, chances of the person delivering the flowers having left long ago are quite high, so you bring it back in to read the note.

Written in what you presume is the florist’s handwriting, due to how neat it is, is an address, time, and a table reservation number for the restaurant listed.

You quickly change as you debate on whether you should go, whoever sent it is probably quite high in ranking to know which unit you stay, and is probably not someone that is against the order, since your living quarters have high security levels, so who sent those flowers?

Fuck it, you think to yourself, you're perfectly capable of protecting yourself, you reassure yourself as you pull on a dress and a brand new coat, you've never dressed up before, it was merely a fibble dream back then, to think you'd be able to live a stable life of riches and be adorned in the finest silks if you're willing to fight for a greater cause, you scoff at the thought of your old perceptions on life, no one would be able to afford such a life through justice, at least not anywhere in the near future, not as long as Jungkook exists.

Before you left your unit, you quickly strap your lightsaber on your thigh, just in case, you thought to yourself.

You summon R9F7 to drive your hover car, just in case you want to drink during or after the meal, depending on if the person you're meeting is someone you deem you should be weary of.

When you get to your destination, you quickly pat down your hair, maybe you should consider getting a hood installed on your hover car, you think to yourself as you tell R9F7 that he's free to walk around if he wants after he dropped you off.

Heading to the restaurant, you immediately walked up to the employee situated at the front of the property, noting that this place must be expensive if there's service right outside the restaurant and you also see two security droids in place.

“Reservations only, miss,” the waiter informs you without looking up from his tablet, seemingly uninterested in servicing you.

You state the reservation number for him and that's when he finally looks up.

“Please, right this way, miss,” he says as he gestures the droids to open the door, the gust of warm air providing a sense of comfort, until you see how fancy it is on the inside, velvet carpeting with intricate designs, customers dressed fancily, crystal chandeliers hanging from high ceilings, and cutlery that look more like fine jewellery in your eyes, but that's when you notice the stares and the whispers amongst the diners, they must've realised you're not a regular.

“That's the Dark Lord's pandawan, I saw her at the welcome ceremony of the Kims’ that day,” you catch someone saying, loud enough for someone with the force to hear.

You seriously hope no one recognises you in your seating area, you think to yourself before you finally come to a stop at a more secluded area, and the person waiting for you was none other than Lady Kim herself.

“It's nice to finally meet you, I'm not sure if you saw me that day during the welcoming ceremony, I'm Sejin, I've been friends with Jungkook for a long time, but my husband, Namjoon, is much closer to him. I thought I'd take this opportunity to get to know you, now that we're back for a visit, my husband is busy with catching up with his old friends, so I thought I'd take this chance to get to know you first, we're both women after all,” Lady Kim says as she stands up to shake your hand, gesturing you to take the seat in front of her.

“It's nice to meet you, Lady Kim, but I'm not sure why you would want to meet me of all people,” you say honestly, you would've understood if you met under formal circumstances, like being introduced by Jungkook as his pandawan, not in such a private situation, not even on base grounds.

“I wanted to meet you, you're Jungkook’s pandawan after all, being Jungkook’s close friend, I think it's normal to want to meet his pandawan,” she replies as she flags down a waiter to pour you a glass of wine identical to hers.

Gears turn in your head as you try to read the woman in front of you, after being under Jungkook, you've learned that people usually have the worst intentions and assumptions towards you, so you've grown to be cautious with strangers.

“I just thought we would've waited until our formal introduction with Lord Jungkook, but I have no qualms about meeting you for this dinner, Lady Kim,” you explained, not wanting to come off as hostile or reluctant to meet her, you don't want to offend her, especially given the fact that she seems almost like family to Jungkook.

“Please, just call me Sejin, Lady Kim makes me sound so old, and thank you so much for meeting me, sorry for not informing earlier, I was worried you wouldn't be willing to meet me if you had known,” she explains, her expression apologetic, but you understand where she's coming from, you don't like people knowing you're Jungkook’s pandawan either, they always have a bad perception of you.

“I wouldn't have minded, Lady Kim,” you quickly reply, still not forgoing the honorific, but she quickly amends you, chastising you in a lighthearted manner to not call her by her title.

“How old are you, darling? You look so young,” she remarks as the first two dishes are being laid on the table, you sure hope she didn't order too much, or anything too exotic, you weren't familiar with what people on the dark side eat until just a few months ago, there's still many things you've never tried.

“I'm 21,” you say before thanking Sejin for putting food on your table, even the ham looks fancier than usual in this restaurant.

“Oh my, you must've been so young when you were taken in by your first master,” Sejin exclaims, chopsticks hanging idly between her fingers when she registers what you said.

“I was trained under a jedi master before Jungkook,” you answer honestly, but albeit, hesitant, your loyalty lies with Jungkook, but you know the whispers of some of his men, how you're unworthy because you used to be under the rebellion.

“Darling, you don't have to be ashamed about your past, in fact, I was trained in a rebellion academy too,” Sejin says, which has your eyes going as wide as saucers.

“It wasn't the main rebellion base, just a small academy started by an old master who takes in orphaned kids who were blessed by the force but too old to be enrolled in the official academy, I was to be killed the day the dark forces found the base, but Namjoon pleaded his master, also Jungkook’s master at the time, to give me a chance to live and prove myself worthy, so that's how I met Namjoon and Jungkook, Jungkook was still so young at the time, time flew by so fast after we left, in a blink of an eye, he now has now his own pandawan,” Sejin says with a sigh, nostalgia heavy in her tone, but she seems happy about the way her life turned out too.

“Why did you and Namjoon leave?” you couldn't help but ask, sitting up straighter, engrossed in Sejin’s life story.

“I wanted a life beyond all this, I felt like growing up, from the moment I was abandoned at war, picked up by my old master and met Namjoon, I felt like all I did was training for something that I didn't feel passion for, Namjoon felt like he was doing it out of obligation as well, especially being the oldest one, he was expected to lead the New Order, but Jungkook took over instead when our old master died, he was always the one that's more passionate about leading the New Order, so Namjoon and I decided to leave, start a life for ourselves, to see the universe. So I understand if you have no desire to follow Jungkook’s footsteps, I've been at such a crossroad too, but I think he didn't receive the news all that well because maybe a part of him still feels like he was abandoned by Namjoon and I,” Sejin explained.

“I'm sorry you had to go through so much at such a young age,” you know how hard it is, having experienced it first hand, but you know she must've had it even harder, Jungkook treats you as an equal despite being his pandawan, but you're sure their old master, being someone of more traditional upbringing, couldn't have treated them as well.

“It's fine, it's been so long, I've moved on quite alright, but I just want to let you know, I'm here to offer you a chance to leave this all behind too, Namjoon and I never had any children, nor do we plan to, since we always move around in fear of being caught or killed, we talked and decided that if you ever want to live with us, we welcome you with open arms,” Sejin offers with sincerity in her eyes, you can see the moisture in them, and you know where she's coming from, she sees herself in your life story too.

“Thank you so much for giving me the chance to leave with you, but I can't leave Jungkook, my loyalties lie with him, he saved my life and I'll always be grateful to him, I can't imagine myself not being under his servitude,” you decline politely, if it wasn't Jungkook you would've taken up on her offer, but you don't have any aspirations other than protecting the one who saved you from your miserable life, even if he demands to have you killed, you wouldn't have any qualms.

“Jungkook saved my life, if he wants me to hand over my life for not following his footsteps, then that's a price I'm willing to pay,” you elaborate further before sighing, you've sealed your fate since the day you accepted his offer, and you always keep your word.

“Darling, he's not going to kill you for not taking over his place, if he wanted to kill you he would've done so long ago, I know I might be prying, but I feel like there's another reason for wanting to stay by his side, do you perhaps hold affection towards Jungkook?” Sejin asks with a knowing smile on her face, not a sliver of judgement, but you feel like you've been gobsmacked by the force in its entirety.

“I wouldn't even dare dream of such a thing, goodness,” you say with a weak chuckle, quickly distracting yourself with your drink, taking a quick sip, you would've downed the whole thing, but that would make you look ridiculous.

Thankfully the food has finally arrived, temporarily diverting both of your attention.

“I won't question you further, there are some things you need figuring out yourself,” she says before she plates some food onto your plate with a knowing smile on her face.

*I ran out of image limit so this is my new page break, sorry guys*

“I saw your pandawan leaving base all dressed up when I was on my way here,” Namjoon brings up midway through dinner at Jungkook’s chambers.

The man across from him immediately stops chewing on his steak, the force around them strumming in suspense, even without the force, they would've felt the hostility in the air even if they can't see the hardened expression on Jungkook’s face.

“Maybe it's just a friend,” Namjoon says offhandedly, and then Jungkook stiffens up, instantly he lets go of his hold on the force, but Namjoon is used to this sort of suffocation, he had to deal with teenage Jungkook after all.

“It doesn't matter,” Jungkook brushes off, resumes cutting his steak, but with a new sense of vigour, the knife scratching the surface of the plate.

“You can't lie to me, Jungkook, need I remind you we grew up together?” Namjoon teases, but he's still concerned, he's never seen his friend invested in something other than his work, “You need to tell her how you feel,” Namjoon advises, though he knows what Jungkook is thinking when he sees the clench of his jaw, and just as Namjoon predicted, Jungkook refutes immediately.

“That's my pandawan we’re talking about,” Jungkook deadpans, staring down at his long time friend.

“I know, just because I'm in my forties, doesn't mean I'm hard of hearing, and just because you're in your 30s, doesn't mean you're an old man, she's only in her 20s, that's not very far apart,” Namjoon explains, because he knows what Jungkook’s mindset is right now, he thinks he's too old for you.

“Don't be ridiculous, she's in her early twenties, she deserves someone her own age, not me,” Jungkook protests with an agitated sigh before he downs the rest of his whisky, the droid immediately refilling his glass, as dutiful as ever, but maybe out of fear too.

“Why are you so against the idea of being with your pandawan? She's an adult, what are you scared of? Definitely not what other people might say. Are you scared you might take advantage of her?” Namjoon retorts to elicit a reaction out of Jungkook, and it's instant.

“I would cut off my own arm before I would even think of doing anything without her permission,” Jungkook says with the force omitting from Jungkook’s body in waves, the droid at the side quietly scoots away from his previous spot closer to Jungkook.

“Then why are you so against the idea of being romantically involved with her?” Namjoon questions with a gentle tone, he's gotten his point across, he doesn't need to press further, Jungkook is in denial, but nowhere near dumb, he just wanted to know why his dear friend is torturing himself by denying his own feelings, but if he won't tell him now, he'll just have to try his best to pry later.

*page break*

The forest stands intimidating as the winds howl and the trees waver under its force, the sound of leaves rustling a familiar tune for Jungkook and Namjoon.

“Can't believe we didn't do this the last time you came back,” Jungkook says as he watches the scenery with a fond nostalgia.

“Didn't know you'd still fancy hunting this much, after so many years of being the Dark Lord,” Namjoon muses with a shake of his head, but he'd ought to know better, Jungkook always had a sense of childlike adventure and a hunger for a challenge, it's why he enjoys what he does.

“Hunting creatures sometimes trains my wits more than hunting people, people are getting more stupid by the day,” Jungkook says before he orders a trooper to open the weapon crate, “Weapon of choice? I'll let you pick since you're my hyung,” Jungkook says before he walks aside to let Namjoon take a look.

Namjoon digs around, uninterested, until he finds a rod shaped weapon, with a click of a button, it unfolds itself into a spear.

“Always have an eye for the unconventional ones,” Jungkook mutters but laments, picking up another spear from the crate.

“That's what makes things fun, Jungkook, gotta keep you on your toes, that's what I'm here for on this boring planet,” Namjoon says before he takes off into the forest, the familiar scent of the trees greeting him like a warm hug.

The sun is nowhere near setting, but in this forest, the rays are blocked by the thick trees overhead. However, Jungkook isn't worried about the darkness, he's trained to see through the force instead of his vision, the force to users as skilled as Jungkook, is like touching the fabric of existence, able to map out every obstacle around him like a physical map.

He hasn't gone hunting ever since the last time he did it with Namjoon, but the forest doesn't feel the same since then, it's too empty. Jungkook hasn't felt a creature other than some bugs for miles, which is an odd occurrence for a forest that he knows is abundant with wildlife.

Something feels terribly off, and he hates that feeling, especially when it's happening on home base.

Instead of trekking for animals, he's now feeling the force for Namjoons's whereabouts, but he must've walked further away from him to have a better chance of higher numbers, he isn't on Jungkook’s radar anymore, and communication doesn’t work in this forest, they did agree to meet back out in an hour's time, but his gut tells him to not dwell.

Suddenly, he feels footsteps, lots of them, then he registers it, a stampede, and it's coming his way.

Creatures he's all too familiar with, even the more ferocious ones, are chasing the tail of some small creatures, but not as predators, because Jungkook can sense the fear in all the creatures in the stampede.

Jungkook immediately summons the force to jump onto a high branch, perched on a higher ground to observe what's happening below, he still can't see nor feel the creature that caused this stampede, but he knows it must be ragesome for it to trigger a stampede in the forest, and he has a sinking feeling that it isn't native.

Then he feels it, a thrumming in the force, a disturbance, but a familiar strum has Jungkook on alert, Namjoon is close, but he's miffed by the fact that both the creature and Namjoons's presence are ascending his way simultaneously.

By now Jungkook doesn't need to use the force to keep track of the creature, the whole forest is shaking from the weight of its heavy footfalls.

Lo and behold, there he sees it, a green 10 feet tall reptile on all fours, huffing and shaking its head, clung onto his neck is no other than Namjoon himself, trying his hardest to hold on for his life while he tries to stab the creature with the spear that acts more like a sharp stick against this monster.

Jungkook has no idea where this creature came from or why his hyung is on its back, but he's damn sure he isn't going to let Namjoon die in the jaws of this monster.

“Joon! Get off its back!” Jungkook shouts from the top of his lungs, getting the attention of his hyung, thankfully, he heard him or felt his intentions through the force, and so he leaps off its back to the side, rolling to safety.

Jungkook descends from his spot from the branch, summoning the force to cease the creature in its tracks by exuding pressure in front of it, acting as a temporary barrier.

The creature’s weight has Jungkook skidding back a few steps, shaking its head, confused as to why there's something in its way despite not seeing any physical obstacle, but then its eyes zero in on Jungkook’s figure a few feet away, and with a mighty roar that showcases its sharp teeth, it decides to pounce on Jungkook, but Jungkook once again stops it with his force before he wields his lightsaber purely with the force, calling it from where he laid it out for safekeeping right outside the forest, thankfully they've moved closer to the forest clearing, Jungkook was planning on ending it once and for all by plunging the weapon into its throat, however, the creature had unfortunately caught sight of Jungkook’s lightsaber, and with a swish of its tail, albeit with a wail of pain from the burn of the saber, the lightsaber is smashed to pieces, distracted by his prized weapon destroyed right in front of his eyes, Jungkook was was nearly bitten by the creature if Namjoon hadn't used the force to pull him out of the way.

“Fuck, did you bring your lightsaber?” Jungkook asks.

“No, I didn't expect we'd come across anything that needed one,” Namjoon says before he advances onto the monster once again, with the spear in hand, he leaps onto the monster’s neck once more, angering it.

“Try to strike its eyes out!” Namjoon suggests, and with a sigh, Jungkook follows suit, trying his best to balance with the aid of the force, Jungkook tries to get the spear into its throat, but the reptile's strong scales wouldn't budge, protecting itself like an armour.

“The spear isn't strong enough to penetrate its scales, if we blind it, we might be able to find its weak spot on its underbelly,” Namjoon informs Jungkook, to which the latter nods, trying his best to weaken its sight, but things prove to be tough since the monster is trying its hardest to shake them off like they're merely pesky flies.

Jungkook hopes they'll get out of this alive.

*page break*

An insistent throbbing in the back of your head rouses you from your nap, immediately you can tell something’s wrong, and that something being Jungkook, you're not sure how it works, but having a force bond with someone is like an invisible string, and the throbbing at the back of your head is similar to a thread being yanked on, beckoning you for help, even if the person in danger didn't specifically asked for you.

You quickly get dressed and grab your hoverboard, you shouldn't be riding it in hallways, but the route from your unit to Jungkook’s unit is quite near, some staff did give you the side eye, but you needed to be quick.

“Droid, where's Lord Jungkook?” you ask the droid standing guard as you skid to a stop in front of Jungkook’s unit.

“Lord Jungkook has went hunting with Lord Kim in the forest, miss, would you like to schedule an appointment to meet with Lord Jungkook after he comes back?” the droid asks, but you have taken off in a haste once you knew of his location.

After zooming through the hallways with many apologies given, you finally reach the entrance of the forest, and gathered around an empty clearing are five storm troopers.

“Lord Jungkook is in danger, I need all of you to follow me into the forest,” you ordered, all of them scrambled to their feet, but the leader, the one with a red graphic print on their shoulder pad remains seated.

“With all due respect, miss, but we were ordered to await Lord Jungkook’s arrival back from the forest, and given Lord Jungkook’s capabilities, I doubt he is in any danger,” they dismissed.

“Are you questioning my authority and capability of wielding the power of the force?!” you question with a flick of your wrist, the trooper is being tossed high up into the air, screaming on top of their lungs before they begin apologising and pleading for your forgiveness.

“Miss, look, there's birds flying out in flocks from that direction,” another trooper informs you, so you quickly let the trooper down and hop on your hoverboard.

“I sent all of you my tracking so you can follow my lead, call backup as well,” you say before taking off into the direction of where the commotion was at.

You've been in the forest many times to train alone, but you've never delved into the thick of it like this before, where the trees are more dense from one another.

You try feeling your way through the forest as well as following Jungkook’s energy force like a beacon, but one thing for sure, there's definitely something that doesn't belong in the forest, you can sense its immense size sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the other creatures.

When you reach a clearing, you see the monster in its entirety, its eyes blazing, mad that Jungkook and Lord Kim are trying their best to deter it in its path by blocking its vision, though, you can tell they're trying their best to injure it.

“Jungkook get out of the way!” you shout from the top of your lungs as you summon your knives, the knives flying through the air with the power of your force, Jungkook dodges right before the knives are impaled into its left eye, roaring at the pain, and also distracted, you used this chance to take it down, your lightsaber alight before you took off, summoning the force to give you a boost to your jump, stabbing the lightsaber into its neck before you let the force of gravity do its thing, slicing its neck all the way down.

You jump back when the blood of the creature starts to spray out in jets, but in doing so, you miss the snap of its jaw, you feel a familiar hand reach out to grab you before the creature could have your life one last time, you were pushed away, a loud curse reaches your ear, you look back to see Jungkook throwing a spear with all his might into the monsters jaw, the creature whimpers at the unexpected pain, before it finally succumbs to its injuries, falling to the side lifelessly.

With a sigh of relief, you quickly turn to Jungkook, but your blood runs cold at the sight, his back has obvious scratch marks from the creature's teeth and his clothes are drenched in his blood.

“Jungkook!” you call with a wretched sob before the man before you sways, you quickly catch him before he falls, his whole weight crashing onto you.

Then you hear the troopers, most of them bought weapons but thankfully one of them thought of bringing a stretcher, better late than never at least, you thought with a sigh.

Lord Kim calls out your name before offering you help in manoeuvring Jungkook onto the stretcher.

“Jungkook’s going to be fine, he's seen worse, let's hurry back to get you checked out as well,” Lord Kim says as he checks you for any obvious injuries.

“Thank you, Lord Kim,” you say with a bow, but he quickly dismisses you and tells you to call him by his name as well, just like his wife.

You can’t help but worry when you watch the many different machines scanning him and tending to his wounds, you can’t help the pangs of aches in your heart when the sight of his old battle scars meets your eyes.

“You’ve been overlooking the droids for a long time now, darling, the next procedure’s going to be more invasive, how about we let the droids work in privacy?” Sejin says, and immediately the droids start undressing Jungkook more, so you quickly agree and make a turn to leave Jungkook’s room in a haste.

“You need to get some rest yourself, darling, you can visit him after the droids are done,” Sejin says, and you agree, you do feel tired after all that’s happened.

*page break*

A groan leaves Jungkook when he rouses, a slight ache settling into his body, nothing out of the ordinary, but what he didn’t expect was the weight that he feels on the area of his wrist, he cracks opens his eyes and he sees you, asleep, bent over with your arms folded as a makeshift pillow, then everything comes rushing over him, the beast, you swooping in to help him and Namjoon fight it off, and him getting hurt because of saving you.

Jungkook sighs to himself at the reminder of that memory, he can’t avoid you any longer, it’s not professional nor it is healthy for the two of you moving forward by putting a strain on your relationship this way, but he can’t help but be pissed that you almost got hurt again, but he knows he and Namjoon would’ve struggled to take down that monster by themselves.

Jungkook sees you stir just as the force bond tingles at the back of his neck.

You jolt awake at the sight of Jungkook awake and staring at you with those intense eyes of his, and so you did the thing you rarely ever do, bolting.

“I’m gonna go inform Lord and Lady Kim,” you mutter in one breath and leave before Jungkook could say anything to you.

Jungkook sighs before he hears a droid coming to him to rattle off his vitals, he begrudgingly leaves the comfort of his bed to wash up, and when he comes out, Namjoon and Sejin are seated on his living room sofa.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” Namjoon teases before he engulfs his friend into a bone crushing hug, a hand patting his back a little too hard, but Jungkook’s used to it by now.

“How long was I out?” Jungkook asks when his friend finally pulls away.

“About two days, silly girl didn’t leave your side ever since you laid on that bed,” Namjoon informs, and that’s when Jungkook notices it.

His home is usually very neat, he’s what most people call a neat freak, but now there’s things scattered around, a practice stick laying on the ground, a book of his on the coffee table with a bookmark shoved in haphazardly, and some of his photo frames misplaced, and scarily enough, he doesn’t feel an ounce of irritation.

“Poor girl didn’t leave your bedside, worried to death,” Sejin pipes up with a glint in her eyes, she knows the topic about the two of you can’t be avoided at this point.

“You should’ve told her I was going to be fine and to get back to her own life,” Jungkook says with a sigh, thinking about how you were cooped up here for almost 3 days.

“You think we didn’t try telling her that? She didn’t listen, as stubborn as you are, unsurprisingly, but that’s what you saw in her isn’t it?” Namjoon teases and Jungkook turns away to his shelf, seemingly arranging his things, but he’s just looking at what you browsed according to the movement of his things.

“That’s what I saw in her as my pandawan,” Jungkook clarifies but he hears Sejin’s snicker.

Jungkook lifts up a snowglobe of some sort from his collection of random things from his endeavours before he abruptly slams it down when he hears both of his friends now blatantly laughing at him.

“Are the two of you here to inquire about my health or gossip about me in front of my face?” Jungkook questions, turning back to face his friends with a scorned expression, he’s not used to people blatantly going against him this way.

“Oh come on, Jungkook, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to get my lick back for all the years you teased me about Sejin,” Namjoon jokes.

Jungkook curses at his teenage self for not shutting up, with a roll of his eyes, he plops down on the couch with a huff, and suddenly, Jungkook looks so much like his younger self to the couple.

“Cut him some slack, love, I wasn’t your pandawan, so things do seem more complicated, but these are just surface things, Jungkook ah, if you have no bad intentions then what’s stopping you? If anything happens, you’ll regret having not been loved or have loved someone, trust me, Namjoon and I, we’ve been in tight situations before we left all this behind, and in that moment, I had no regrets because I had a fulfilled life loving and being loved by Namjoon, but I understand why you’re hesitant, since you’re all good and up on your feet, we’ll leave you to continue resting up, we’ll come by tomorrow again,” Sejin says, tugging a very confused Namjoon on his feet.

“Let the poor boy figure things out, he’s just woken up and now he’s clouded by all these emotions,” he hears Sejin say under her breath to Namjoon, but Jungkook doesn’t hear what Namjoon says, nor does he bother to correct Sejin that he’s no longer the boy that she used to watch over with Namjoon but in fact a grown man in his 30s.

After his friends’ departure, Jungkook sits in silence in his own unit, ‘are you not coming back to check up on him?’, he wonders with a displeased sigh.

When it gets late to the point where he knows you’re most probably asleep, he gives up waiting on you. Jungkook’s eyes land on a bracelet he’s never seen before when he heads to bed, sitting idly on his nightstand, ‘did his droids find this when they were cleaning his room during his brief coma?’ he wonders to himself, but he doesn’t remember any of his past conquests wearing anything of this sort, but to be fair, he doesn’t remember much about them, if anything arises his suspicions, he’ll just check the cameras in his home, he brushes the bracelet off, he’ll just drop it off lost and found tomorrow, he decides before letting sleep consume him once more.

But not long after he fell asleep, at least according to the clock on his bedside, he hears rustling coming from his living room, he immediately jerks awake at the realisation, summoning the force, the spare lightsaber he owns flying into his outstretched arm before he creeps into his own living room.

His eyes lock in on a familiar figure and now that he’s more awake, he can sense it’s you just by the bond.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Jungkook questions while he lowers his weapon, letting his guard back down.

You turn around with a surprise gasp from your hunched position over his couch, seemingly searching for something before he caught you like a deer in headlights.

“I realised a bracelet of mine is missing, it was gifted to me by Lady Kim and I’m having breakfast with her tomorrow, so I had to come back to look for it or it’d seem rude to show up without it,” you explain in one frantic breath, standing a little too straight for comfort now.

“You could’ve come to get it earlier,” Jungkook deadpans, arms folded over his chest with a sigh.

“Well. I didn’t want to disturb you, and Lord and Lady Kim were over, so I didn’t want to intrude,” you say, but both of you know that’s not the main reason.

“The droids picked up your bracelet, it’s in my room,” Jungkook says, turning back to the direction of his bedroom, silently beckoning you to follow him, which you do.

Then you see the familiar glint of the beads on his nightstand that you had familiarised yourself with the past few days.

Jungkook takes a seat on his bed before he retrieves the bracelet from his nightstand, beckoning you over with a flick of his wrist, and so you move to stand before him, gently, he grasps your non-dominant hand in his before he slides the bracelet back onto your wrist.

“Take a seat, I’m not here to discipline you,” Jungkook says before patting the spot on the bed next to him.

“We need to have a talk about how you’re constantly putting yourself in danger for me, but in short, stop doing that, don’t risk your life for me,” Jungkook says curtly, keeping things straight to the point.

“Why are you acting like I’m the one who got hurt?” you retorted, but before Jungkook could remind you of what happened, you beat him to it, you have a fast mouth on you, that Jungkook acknowledges.

“I get it, you saved me, but if I wasn’t there, that monster might’ve hurt you or Lord Kim like really badly, just because you’re my master, doesn’t mean you’re invincible,” you reasoned, and Jungkook equally loves and hates this part of you, the way you stand up to him with little to no fear, he doesn’t have many equals in this position other than Namjoon and Sejin, but unfortunately for you, this is what keeps Jungkook on his toes and also the reason his temper fires up.

“I’m not invincible, but you’re not either!” Jungkook retrots, his voice booming in his spacious unit, his eyes ablaze, chest heaving. Jungkook rarely ever raises his voice, if he’s mad at someone for a failed task, he’d merely dispose of them, which is why he’s bad at controlling his emotions around you, he’s never needed to keep himself in check and this doesn’t help the fact that you’re a hot headed person yourself too.

“You don’t get it do you? I don’t want you to risk your life for me!” Jungkook’s so agitated to the point where he’s stood up now, a hand running through his hair.

“We’re all risking our lives for this cause anyway, what’s the difference between me and you?! Why are you ‘allowed’ to get hurt for this cause but I’m not?! Wh-

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt!”

“What’s the difference between me and all the other millions of people under you?!”

Hearing your outburst, Jungkook walks away with a shake of his head, going to that planet and insisting on wiping out your old master and the rest of his pandawans turned his life over like a snowglobe, and he doesn’t know if it’s for the better when the snowstorm in his head is still raging.

“Don’t make me say it,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, defeated almost, something you’d never thought you’d ever describe Jungkook as.

“Cherishing someone isn’t a sign of weakness, Jungkook,” you lament with a sigh, if this was your bed you would’ve crashed onto it, reasoning with Jungkook is such a mental turmoil.

“It’s wrong if it goes beyond the limit,” Jungkook says, throwing his hands up, very much exasperated, and the sight of you seemingly so calm and collected just pisses him off more.

“What limit, Jungkook?! You’re backing yourself into this non-existent wall for no goddamn reason-

“Because I have feelings for you!” Jungkook bellows, his facial muscles strained to the point where you think he might actually self-combust, then in a flash, you’re being thrown backwards onto Jungkook’s bed, the wind knocked out of you, distantly you can hear Jungkook’s furniture and knick knacks in his room falling over in quick thumps and numerous shatters of glass.

“Fuck,” you hear Jungkook curse before he comes rushing over to you, his worried face coming into view.

“I’m fine, not hurt,” you say before Jungkook helps you sit up from his bed.

“I had no idea having feelings for me is such an agonising experience to the point where you’d have such an explosive reaction,” you mutter bitterly as you sit up from Jungkook’s bed.

“It’s agonising because it’s not right, not because of you,” Jungkook says in a disheartened tone, looking away from you, head hanging low in the glow of his lamp in the corner.

“You’re big bad Dark Lord and you’re scared about what people say behind your back?!” you question with full offence, head whipped to the direction of the pathetic man you’d looked up to for so long, he tenses up at your accusation, and he turns to face you in an instant, his venomous eyes piercing into yours.

“If someone even dares to speak ill of me or you, they’ll regret it in their last dying breath,” Jungkook warns with a slight growl, and to your dismay, it sends a chill down your spine.

“Then what’s your damn issue? Don’t tell me you suddenly have a moral high ground, you kill and torture, but you’re not willing to touch your pandawan?!” you shout in his face before you could register to filter that damn primal part of yourself.

“It’s because I’m so much older you, god damnit!” Jungkook retorts, hands flailing, you’ve never seen him so out of his damn mind, and it kind of feeds into your ego that you can make the most powerful man in the universe crumble this way.

“So what? I’m an adult, now and back when we met,” you say a little calmly for Jungkook’s liking, like he’s pathetic for having all these valid concerns.

“I could be your father at this age of mine,” Jungkook mutters dejectedly.

“Maybe boys my age are of no interest to me, have you thought about that?” you fire back, and Jungkook looks at you like you just said the most scandalised thing he’s ever said, you hate it when he babies you like a child, you have made no reckless decision ever since you came here, your most reckless being hurling a giant rock at Jungkook, not that it matters, it got his attention, and now you have him at your feet.

Suddenly, you feel yourself taken over by a crazy amount of confidence, something must’ve possessed you for you to have the courage to walk over to him, and grasp his face in your hands, the way your dainty fingers envelope his sharp features is a sight you won’t be able to forget, but it’s the way his doe eyes get lost in yours is what made your breath hitch, so you swallow the lump in your throat, the power exchange is borderline addictive, yes, Jungkook is slightly more vulnerable at this moment than you’ve ever seen him, but admitting your feelings to him, your heart on your sleeve for his taking in itself is a form of submission, especially for someone as headstrong as you, and you prove your assumptions true when suddenly his eyes sharpen, piercing into your soul like daggers.

“If you want this, I need to know that you’re mine and I’m yours alone,” he says, his voice tense, as if just the thought of you being with someone else sets off his temper.

“I’m yours for the taking,” you say before you finally seal your lips with his, along with your fate.

*page break*

Celebrations are in full swing after Jungkook led everyone to a victorious conquer of yet another galaxy, but that didn’t come easily, some troopers had sacrificed their lives, many injured, you didn’t get out without a few gashes and many bruises too, but what hurt the most were your ears after being lectured by Jungkook for getting hurt, which is ironic, because he had himself battered up too, you didn’t even bat an eye, just patching him up diligently every single time.

Though now, you hold no grudge against him for that, not when he’s having his big day now, which is why you’re dolled up for the night, well, it’s nothing considered too fancy as compared of the many flamboyant outfits you’ve seen the noblewomen adorn day in and out, but it is however, considered dressing up for you, in a glittery dress that shows off your silhouette.

Eyes trace your figure when you make your way through the hall where the celebratory dinner is held, all the way until Jungkook notices you, then the eyes on you, which were quickly diverted when they catch the scowl on his face, but it was quickly wiped off his face when he greets you.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook whispers to you when you take your seat next to him, eyes discreetly looking over at what he can see of your dress from this angle.

“You don’t look too bad yourself too,” you say instantly, holding your tongue on how you love it when he tight fitted formal attire like these, unfortunately, still black, but it’s almost impossible to convince the man to wear any other colour, but purple does make an appearance once in a while, he has almost ten purple shirts in his closet, and yes, you went through his closet just to see if everything was black to confirm your suspicions.

“Thank you, darling,” Jungkook drawls with one more greedy glance at your appearance before he goes back to people watching, observing who would most likely walk up to him next to talk now that you’re in his presence, everyone wants to know more about the apple of Jungkook’s eye, no one had expected Jungkook, with the temper he has going on, would ever be patient enough to teach someone, especially someone from enemy lines.

“Lord Jungkook, congratulations on the success of your last excursion, achieving great things alongside your pandawan I can see,” Lord Bautinite says, a didynon who’s older than the both of you combined says, but instead of addressing Jungkook properly, the old man is staring at you with his big bug eyes that Jungkook’s holding back the urge to poke out.

“Lord Jungkook did most of the heavy lifting, Lord Bautitine, but thank you for your confidence in my capabilities, I’m merely doing my best to support Lord Jungkook on the field,” you say, always humble, Jungkook lost count on the many times you watched his back for him and patched him up, he wouldn’t have successfully conquered that galaxy if you weren’t there.

“What a humble pandawan you got yourself, Jungkook, have you thought about who to arrange her marriage to?” Lord Bautitine asks with a hopeful glint in his eye that has your temper flaring up, but no one else would feel but Jungkook, due to the force bond between you and Jungkook that has gotten even stronger because your relationship with Jungkook exceeds the depth of a normal master-pandawan relationship, the two of you could feel every change and flicker of emotion no matter how brief and how far the two of you are physically. Jungkook doesn’t expect you to lash out though, you never do, you’re the opposite of Jungkook, Jungkook lets his anger be known by everyone, but you could be feeling even angrier than Jungkook about a situation but your face would give nothing away.

“My pandawan is a grown adult who’s capable of making her own decisions, I have no desire to arrange a marriage for her, she’s free to choose who she wants to be with or to stay single,” Jungkook answers without a second of hesitation, he knows this question would come up sooner or later.

“I have no desire for marriage in the near future, Lord Bautitine, for now my passion lies in serving The New Order only,” you reply with a smile plastered on your face while your temper continues to flare up the force, Jungkook doesn’t know how you do it.

“It’d be a pity to lose such a useful worker to marriage so soon, though I’m sure she will still dedicate a lot her time in her work, I might not be very lenient on her partner if they ever get in the way of her and her work though,” Jungkook says, an indirect warning that underlies the meaning of fuck off.

“Why yes, I hope you find someone who respects your boundaries one day,” Lord Bautitine says to you before he quickly excuses himself to speak to someone else passing by.

“It’s insane how well you manage to compose your anger,” Jungkook says with an amused shake of his head, he was trying so hard not to kill him, but he knows Lord Bautitine has influence in the local economy here, it’d be messy to kill him off.

“I’m surprised you’re getting better at managing your anger too,” you have to give tens where tens are due.

“If he had laid a hand on you he would be dead by now,” Jungkook says casually before taking a swig of his drink, smiling over the rim of his glass when he sees you laugh and your anger fizzling out, but soon, there’s more people to meet, only excusing yourself when the next course rolls out, you don’t mind socialising with Jungkook, but you would never compromise for food and Jungkook respects that.

Deeper into the night, you excuse yourself and leaving Jungkook to his own devices, Jungkook knows your social battery has a limit and he has no desire to drag you around talking to dickheads anyways, it’s normal for you to retire earlier when there’s events like these, and if anyone dares to question Jungkook about your loyalties and hard work, Jungkook allows his displeasure to be known in the most brutal way possible.

*page break*

When Jungkook finally retires to his own quarters, he breathes a sigh of relief when he takes in the comfort of his abode that once felt empty to him, most days you slept over, you practically live here, and so Jungkook’s home now has bright pops of colours, cute cushions from the market, your cup on the kitchen island, and the many jewellery you have lying around here and there that Jungkook bought many of, he reminds himself that this is what he’s doing for, staying in power means he has the means to keep you safe, Jungkook reminds himself as he quietly peels away his clothes to hop in the shower for a quick rinse before joining you in bed, a cute bundle between his sheets.

However, to his surprise, the cute bundle between his sheets is now laying on his bed, your smooth legs posed enticingly, kicking the air lightly while your bum takes the spotlight, the giant red bow sitting prettily at the dip of your back catching Jungkook’s attention instantly.

“What do we have here? Thought you were fast asleep,” Jungkook questions as he rounds his bed with quick strides, tossing his towel aside when he deems his hair dry enough.

“I was, but I heard you in the shower,” you’ve always been a light sleeper from years of being on the run, Jungkook sighs when he remembers that fact, he’s so glad he had that old man die a painful death for what he put you through.

“Aren’t you tired? You didn’t have to do all this for me, having the pleasure to hold you close is enough of a blessing,” Jungkook says as he slides into bed next to you, his nose immediately goes to the juncture of your neck, inhaling your scent mixed with his shower gel, tickling you in the process, his chest blooming at the sound of your sweet giggle.

“Missed you, you’ve been so busy, you deserve a reward too, for all your hard work in the order,” you say before you lead his face to yours, capturing his lips with yours, your hand tangling into his hair, your breath hitching when you feel Jungkook manoeuvre you atop of his lap, he wants you as close as possible after being apart for so long, it’s been only 4 hours max, but Jungkook is a fiend for your presence.

When Jungkook could tell you were getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, he pulled away, his eyes immediately trained on the way your eyes had glossed out, lost in the kiss the two of you shared.

“Gorgeous,” Jungkook praises under his breath as he brushes your hair back from your face, taking the sight of you in, he's the luckiest man in this universe, and it's not because of the empire he has, but because of you.

“You mentioned a reward just now, darling,” Jungkook reminds you, with his thumb holding your chin in place, he knows that such a simple gesture has your panties slicking up, always a menace in riling you up.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you emphasise with a roll of your hips, Jungkook’s length twitching at the action, impatient to be inside of you, “but first, how about dessert?” you ask before lightly pushing Jungkook to lay on his back, an amused huff leaving his lips.

“It's like you read my mind, sweetheart,” Jungkook says as he bunches up your nightgown, surprised but very much happy to find that you had forgone panties tonight, “don't hold back, I want your entire weight on my face,” Jungkook demands, knowing that you have the tendency to hover over his face instead of giving him the full meal.

You sigh at your lover’s insistence, so instead of replying him, you take your seat, successfully shutting up and satisfying him, obvious by the groan he emits once he gets the first taste of you, groaning into your core, the vibrations and his tongue have you gasping for air, quickly holding onto the headboard for your dear life.

Jungkook has always been straight to the point in all aspects of his life, which is why he immediately dives his tongue deep inside, the action messes your balance while you curse from the sudden shocks of pleasure, Jungkook, being the observant lover he is, immediately notices and stables you with a palm on one of your cheeks, taking the chance to grab a handful of you, making you squeak at the pinch of his fingers.

Jungkook smiles against your flesh, and to level up a notch, he then frees his other hand from where it was wrapped around your calf to where your bundle of nerves reside, drawing quick circles, timing them perfectly with the thrust of his tongue that has you gasping his name breathlessly between moans.

Jungkook could sense you were getting closer when you started grinding down to meet his tongue, he could sense the beating of your heart quickening, and lets you do as you please, eyes wide open as he takes in the beautiful, but slightly obstructed sight of you chasing your own pleasure with his face, you being rightfully in your place, Jungkook might as well be the king of this universe, but you are the queen of his world, and a queen deserves the rightful place of a throne, and what better throne than Jungkook himself?

When you finally reach your high, Jungkook rolls your hips for you, helping you ride out your orgasm while stabling you atop of him as you convulse, your knuckles whiten as you let yourself be overtaken by the pleasure coursing through your body, completely undone by Jungkook’s expert hand and mouth, you can feel that he's drinking you in, trying his best to collect your sweet nectar with his tongue, you had to remove yourself on your shaky legs in order for him to give up, chest heaving as your gather your bearings, laying on the bed next to Jungkook.

But soon the man has other plans than letting you rest, Jungkook having an almost wicked smile on his face.

“I can't feel my legs yet, how about I let you use my mouth as an interlude,” you joke, which gets a laugh out of Jungkook.

“It's fine, I can do the heavy lifting first,” Jungkook dismisses before he wraps your legs around his waist, moving you about like a doll before he bends down to place a short and sweet kiss on your lips, the gesture full of love in the midst of your throngs of passion, it never fails to bring a smile on your face when he does this.

Jungkook then leans back to focus on the task on hand, grasping himself, his cock almost painfully hard from enduring through hearing your pleasure, but Jungkook enjoys hearing the way you react to him without any distractions, he's a patient man when it comes to you, well to a certain degree, he thinks to himself as he pumps himself a few times before he finally positions himself at your slit, probing with his cockhead, teasing you, which earns him a few whines and a light thump of your leg on his back before he finally relents, sliding into your heat slowly, his brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of being engulfed by your warmth.

You tighten your legs around Jungkook’s waist when you feel the familiar addictive feeling of being filled up, nails digging into Jungkook’s arm.

“Doing so well for me, baby, always so wet for me,” you hear Jungkook say, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until he bottoms out, he hears you panting by his ear as he waits for you to adjust, and in the meantime he takes off your nightgown, letting his eyes wander, basking in on all your naked glory.

“We've been doing this for so many times, and yet you're still so entranced,” you comment as you watch the way his huge eyes trace every little bit of your skin.

“I'd never be bored of the sight of you, especially when you're on top of me,” Jungkook says as his hands join in on the mix, tracing every curve on your body, making you shiver from the featherlight touches.

“Thought I'd look best like this, under your mercy,” you joke, getting a chuckle out of Jungkook.

“You'll see why in a bit,” Jungkook comments before he gives an experimental thrust, your gasp of pleasure a telltale sign that you're ready for more.

Jungkook starts off with a mild pace before he hears you begging for him to go faster, your legs tightening around him as you fully immerse yourself in the pleasure you're receiving, your body tensing up with the overwhelming amount of pleasure running through your veins, especially when Jungkook lowered his head to capture one of your bosoms into his lips, sucking diligently as hips continue their unforgiving pace, never missing his target of the spot that has your head spinning.

“Close,” you gasp out when you feel the coil in your belly threatening to snap.

Jungkook ceases all movements before pulling out of you gently, he then manoeuvres you on top of him, taking your place on the bed.

“You wanted to know why I prefer the sight of you on top, this is why,” Jungkook says before tilting your head up to look at the mirror he had installed on his ceiling, and true to his words, the sight is a bewitching one, the way your body has a healthy glowy sheen from the exertion, and the way Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes trained on your reflection, the most powerful man in the universe, and his pleasure is at your mercy, and at that moment, you feel like you could strike even the most powerful entity down, Luke Skywalker be damned if he wasn't dead.

“Do you see what I see now? My queen, rightfully on her throne,” Jungkook says after he tips your head back down to stare into your eyes, he needs to get the idea in your head, it should be a crime that you had no idea of how powerful and mesmerising you look on top of him.

Instead of replying him with words, you smash your lips against his, pouring all your love out through it, you rarely initiate such an intense kiss, but soon you hand the reins over to Jungkook, even though you love having power over him, submitting to him is what you enjoy most in your love trysts.

A moan slips from your lips to his when he slips back inside you with a quick adjustment of his hand, the familiar fullness more than welcomed, and Jungkook then immediately sets a rigorous pace, thrusting in an upwards motion while his eyes look into yours, attention unfazed despite his hips working hard to tip the scales of your impending high.

Alas, at the end of the day, Jungkook is only a man, which is why he elicits a giggle out of you when you catch his eyes do a quick sweep of the bouncing motions of your breasts.

“You won't be laughing soon, my love,” Jungkook taunts before he lands a quick spank on one of your cheeks, the sweet tinge of pain nearly sending you over the edge, and seeing the damn smirk on Jungkook’s face, you know damn well he felt you clenching on him.

Jungkook then slows down his pace, switching to slower deeper thrusts that have you clawing his back with long thin marks that he would wear proudly for the days to come.

“I want you to cum, darling,” Jungkook breathes into your ear, sending a shudder running down your back, his voice quiet but still commanding, but what comes next is a surprise, something that merely agreed upon but Jungkook hadn't tested the waters until now.

Jungkook wraps a hand round your neck, not squeezing like you expected him to, but then you feel it, the way your throat constricts by the force lightly, cutting part of your airflow.

“Look up, sweetheart,” Jungkook demands, and you heed, staring at your own lust driven body, the light sheen of sweat making you shimmer under the artificial lights.

“Look at you, right where you belong, on your throne, is my cock treating you well, my Queen?” Jungkook taunts before he stops all airflow for a single second, and that's when you lose it, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks, a curse stuck at the back of your throat because of Jungkook, but when he ceases control of your breathing, your mind blanks out from the all encompassing pleasure, your legs shake as you feel yourself cumming as if you can't stop, soiling the sheets as Jungkook whispers sweet nothings into your ear about how good you did, a hand slipped down to your clit to rub slow circles onto it to curb you to clench around him tighter before he spills into you with a groan. Jungkook then lays you down on the clean side of the bed, before he retrieves the box of tissues on his nightstand to clean you and himself up quickly, he doesn't want to make a mess on the way to the bathroom, he wants the droid to change the sheets then get out of his hair as soon as possible.

“Don't pull out yet,” you demand with a weakened grab of Jungkook’s arm to get his attention, just in case he can't hear you from how soft you are, Jungkook has you spent tonight if you're being honest.

“Anything for you, my love,” you hear Jungkook say with a kiss to your temple before you feel yourself succumb to sleep.

When you wake up from your much needed slumber, you let yourself some time to just feel and appreciate the fact that you're being held in the arms of the love of your life before extracting yourself from said arms, which is quite the feat when Jungkook is built with all muscles and almost zero fat percentage.

When you finally succeed in escaping his embrace, you sigh lovingly at how peaceful Jungkook looks in his sleep, none of that constant frown that he sports when he's awake and stressed about whatever task he needs to attend to, you think he even resembles a rabbit when he sleeps, all pouty lips and his nose twitching now and then, he's gonna throw a fit if he hears your thoughts now, he hates it when you call him cute, are you still going to do it? Absolutely, but for now, you're gonna let him rest up more.

You're still fresh from the bath Jungkook must've taken with you when you were asleep, so you quickly wash up and pad into the kitchen to get a warm cup of water for the both of you, settling Jungkook’s cup down on his side of the nightstand before you walk to the large floor to ceiling window of his bedroom that overlooks the beautiful garden within the base compound.

“You're gonna fall sick parading around naked in my home like this,” you hear Jungkook say before you turn your head to catch him just as bare as you before he retrieves a blanket from your reading nook armchair to drape around both of you, but you with the added layer of bulging muscles.

“This is considered warm for me, I've been through worse conditions, don't worry,” you say before Jungkook steals your cup out of your hands for a quick sip before putting it on the nearby bookshelf to wrap his arms around you once more.

“I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner,” Jungkook mutters as he snuggles his face into your neck, breathing you in, he loves it when you smell like his body wash.

“It's fine, I was just making a joke out of it, you know, no need to get all wound up over it for me,” you say as you reach back to brush through his hair gently.

“Still, I'm glad you're here, and that all those conditions didn't stop us from meeting. I love you so much,” Jungkook says while he wraps you round his arms even tighter than you thought possible, screw rabbit, he reminds you of one of those giant bone crushing serpents you dealt with in the past.

“I love you too, my love,” you say through staggered breath from how he's almost crushing you, but you let Jungkook enjoy this moment a little longer as you bask in his warmth embrace because all’s well that ends well to end up with Jungkook.

The End.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Can you do a Jason todd x half dragon reader? (As in, she has wings and a tail, and personally, I imagine that her wings and tail are like a Night Fury's.)

With tooth rotting fluff and wholesome cuddles. And maybe a sun and moon dynamic, but Jason is the sun, and she's the moon? Also, if at all possible, I love it if she acts like a literal cat. Cat eyes and all.

Thank you for your consideration! ❤️

(This is going to become a common opening for me now) Sorry I took so long! I really hope this is what you're looking for! I only realised after I'd finished it that I'd put in a bit of a slow burn instead of an overload of cuddles and fluff, but I think that's because I was focusing more on the sun and moon dynamic 😅. Anyway, if you're not happy with it, just let me know and I can always try again 😅.

Jason Todd x Half-dragon!Reader

Warnings: none.

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     The Red Hood perched on a rooftop, surveying the darkened alley for any hints of a shady deal. Thankfully, the drug dealers in the area seemed to have taken his threats seriously and stayed away from the routes he knew the teenagers in Gotham frequented on their way to and from the usual hangout spots in the city. Jason pushed himself to his feet, ready to call it a night and head home, but then he spotted something unexpected. He crouched down and watched curiously as something dark and elegant flew through the air, its outline barely illuminated by the moonlight that shone down on … scales? 

     Jason straightened, utterly confused by what he was seeing … but that only drew the strange creature’s attention to him. Jason stepped back as the creature flew towards him, but he knew he was much too slow to escape it if it intended on attacking him. So, he reached for his holster, ready to defend himself if it came to it. But then the creature stepped into the light and Jason found himself even more confused by the sight before him. 

     She stepped forward and studied the strange man curiously. He was wearing some sort of … helmet? A bright red one with little indentations for his eyes, it seemed. It looked quite ridiculous, really, but she supposed that only someone not entirely in his right mind would have been bounding across the rooftops of the city this late at night. 

     Holy shit, she was beautiful! With her (dark/light) and (curly/silky) hair, her smooth and (fair/tanned) skin and her long and toned limbs. And those stunning wings he’d caught a glimpse of before she’d folded them into her back? Wide and dark with just a hint of a shimmer as the moonlight reflected off of her scales. He abandoned his grip on the handle of his gun and clasped his hands behind his back instead, rocking back and forth on his heels as he tried to figure out what to say. 

     “Funny, I … I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight.” Jason chuckled awkwardly, then immediately berated himself mentally. F*ck. What an idiot! ‘I don’t remember the forecast calling for dragons tonight’? Ugh, she was probably going to set him on fire now and honestly? He completely deserved it. 

     She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his relaxed demeanour: people - if they ever managed to catch a glimpse of her in her true form - didn’t usually react in such a manner when they saw her. Usually, they’d start screaming in fear and begging for their lives. Or they’d try to shoot her down and hurt her with any sort of weapon they could find. Both options were horrible in their own way. But this man … He’d … made a joke? 

     Jason folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the ground, growing more nervous with each second of silence that passed. He was just about to open his mouth to let another idiotic sentence spill out when thankfully, she decided to fill in the silence instead. 

     “I don’t remember the forecast calling for little matchsticks running around in the middle of the night,” she retorted calmly, her intense gaze still suspicious. Jason let out a short bark of laughter - much to his own surprise - and relaxed slightly before striding slowly over to her. 

     “Oh, sweetheart,” the strange man chuckled softly, causing an unexpected shiver to run down her spine. “I can assure you: I am not little.” 

     Her eyes widened with surprise at his crude comment, but she couldn’t deny the curious warmth that bloomed in her stomach at his suggestion. She took a step back, nervous to be confronted by such an unfamiliar feeling, and stumbled when her foot met nothing but air. She reached out, her arms flailing desperately as she tried to catch her balance, then she found herself pressed up against a broad chest, her fingers grazing hard muscles as the strange man held her close to him. She held her breath as her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, her body heating up with excitement at their sudden proximity, then she ducked out from beneath his grasp, putting some much needed distance between them. 

     “I-I … T-Thank you,” she stammered out, studiously avoiding his gaze, “but … you know I can fly, right?” 

     He grinned beneath his helmet, delighted by how flustered he seemed to have made her, but his own breath caught in his throat when she finally looked up at him again with wide eyes. Shit, she was gorgeous. 

     “Oh, I know that,” he reassured her, his arms still folded across his chest so she wouldn’t forget how large and strong they were, “but you looked like you forgot that for a second there.” 

     He took a step towards her, bringing them close to each other again, then he bent over to murmur softly to her. “Unless … you were just looking for an excuse to get me closer to you?” 

     She sucked in a breath and clenched her fists by her sides, outraged by the accusation. But damn, she looked cute, a soft little blush colouring her cheeks without her even realising it. Jason snickered softly, thrilled by her adorable and unwitting reaction, but suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in the back of his head. 

     “Ow!” the man exclaimed, clutching the back of his helmet where she’d just smacked him with her tail. He straightened and spread his arms wide, shooting her what she could only imagine was an incredulous look beneath his helmet. “This is the thanks I get for helping you out? Shit. What the hell do you do to people who actually try to hurt you, princess?” 

     She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by how rude she’d been - but the hint of laughter in his tone let her know that he wasn’t really bothered by her reaction. 

     “Sorry,” she apologised, reaching out to curl her fingers around his bicep and rub her thumb against his arm. Jason held his breath, terrified that even the slightest movement might cause her to pull away again. But thankfully, his easy demeanour seemed to have put her at ease. “I … I’m just not used to … to people … being nice to me.” 

     Jason swallowed down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat and reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

     “That’s all right,” he reassured softly, his voice so gentle and understanding. Then he bent over again slightly, leaning towards her like he was about to share a secret with her. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what that’s like either.” 

     She lowered her head as a snort of amusement escaped her mouth and Jason felt his heart melt at the sight of the cute little smile that lit up her face. She bit her lip, barely suppressing her smile, then let her fingers drift down to his forearm as she considered her next words. 

     “Well …” she began slowly, hesitating before speaking the words out loud. “Maybe … we could … figure it out … together?” 

     Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest as she waited for his answer. She didn’t know why, but something about this man just made her feel … comfortable. And that wasn’t a feeling she’d felt … ever? She dug her fingers into his arm as she chewed on her lip nervously, then she quickly released her grip on him, dropping her hand back to her side. “I mean-”

     “I’d like that!” Jason replied quickly, not giving her the chance to take it back. He knew how out of character it was for him to let someone in so quickly, but … there was just something about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was just that she knew what it was like to be outcast by society; to be forced into the darkness where no one would ever be able to hurt her. But whatever it was, he found himself curious to find out. 

     “I …” Jason began, trying to figure out how to contact her again. He scanned his surroundings, searching for some sort of idea, then it struck him. “Do you know that old bookshop on the corner of Apple and Kyle? The one run by that old man who’s just, like, somehow immune to every crazy thing that goes on in Gotham?” 

     She let out a soft laugh at his description and again, his heart melted into a warm puddle. 

     “I know the place,” she replied, doing her best to dampen the wide smile tugging on the corners of her lips. He was cute, but … she didn’t really know anything about him, so it was probably best if she continued to keep her guard up. At least until they got to know each other a little better. And besides, what if he turned out to be absolutely hideous beneath that helmet of his?! 

     “Great!” the man exclaimed, his enthusiasm starting to rub off on her. And he had such a nice voice - surely someone with such a smooth and buttery voice couldn’t be that hideous, right? “I’ll meet you there tomorrow night? Say … ten pm?” 

     It was late enough that most people would be off the streets, but not so late that she wouldn’t be able to get some rest before whatever she had planned for the next day. She flushed at his thoughtfulness and holy f*ck, that smile was going to lead him to some bad decisions someday soon. 

     “Sure,” she agreed, her tail flicking back and forth behind her with what he could only assume was excitement. Jason’s chest warmed at the thought and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

     Her tail flicked lazily over the sofa, occasionally brushing against Jason while they watched a movie on his television. It had turned into a weekly ritual - making popcorn and putting on an old movie from a list they’d found online. They’d been hanging out for a few weeks now and X had gradually allowed herself to become comfortable in his presence, letting more and more of her dragon traits show around and interact with him. He’d never bring it up for the fear that she might change her mind and retract into herself again, but he knew how important it was that she was willing to share that part of her with him. 

     “Okay, but, why is he building a death ray on a boat?” Jason asked, lifting one arm from where he’d slung it over the back of the sofa to gesture to the TV in confusion. “Is he planning to, like, kill the ocean or something?” X bit down on a smile, refusing to encourage his embarrassingly cringy sense of humour, and took a moment to smooth her features back into a neutral expression before replying. 

     “Killing the ocean is quite a serious crime,” X pointed out calmly. “You would destroy entire ecosystems and cause massive damage to the Earth. It is quite a brutally vicious plan, I must admit.” Jason narrowed his eyes at the hint of approval he thought he could hear in her otherwise emotionless tone. But he knew she was just teasing him: he could see the tiny curl at the ends of her lips as she chewed gracefully on her popcorn and the way she kept trailing the tip of her tail across the back of his neck and shoulders was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t being serious. It was something she’d started doing quite often lately, but she never seemed to notice when she was doing it - like it was some involuntary reflex she wasn’t aware of or something. But that only made it all the more torturous; how she didn’t even seem to realise the effect she was having on him. He’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom numerous times on multiple occasions and she probably thought he had some bladder infection or something by now. 

     “Careful, princess,” Jason warned her, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl she’d perched carefully on her lap, “you’re starting to sound like you’re impressed by him.” 

     X lowered her head as the smile overtook her features entirely. She still wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he genuinely had no idea what effect it had on her whenever he made his voice all low and breathy like that. Surely a man as large and confident as him had to know how attractive he was! But … X snuck a glance at Jason, his attention back on the movie now, and recalled all the things he’d told her about what he’d been through so far. He probably didn’t have the room to think about shallow things like that. X cleared her throat, pushing the inappropriate thoughts out of her mind, and shuffled a little closer to her friend, closing the minute sliver of distance that remained between them. 

     “Well, his plan is rather creative,” she admitted, always so thoughtful with her words. “If it truly even is his plan anyway. It’s a rather intelligent one, capable of causing great damage. I must applaud him for it.” 

     Jason curled his fingers around her wrist immediately - like she was actually going to raise her hands and start clapping for him - and X’s breath hitched in her throat when she turned to face him and saw how close his beautiful moss-green eyes suddenly were to hers. “Mmm, you really don’t have to, princess. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t applaud a mass murderer for, well, mass murdering. Or trying to, anyway. I promise!”

     And she laughed - a full-on cackle that started in her belly and poured out of her mouth and into his ears. Jason grinned at the sound, always so happy whenever he managed to provoke the rare reaction out of her. She was always so serious - so carefully composed - and he loved it when he managed to fluster her enough to make her take an even longer pause between her sentences or just lose control entirely. 

     She glanced up at him and stopped suddenly when she saw that he was watching her. She quickly settled back into her seat, focusing her attention on her popcorn so he wouldn’t see the blush she could feel lighting up her cheeks. But when she slid her gaze over to him, he was still looking at her with that admittedly handsome smile on his rugged features. 

     She picked up a kernel of popcorn and popped it into her mouth, but it did nothing to hide the shy little smile tugging insistently on her lips. Shit, she was so! Cute! He wished she’d just hurry up and make a move on him already. He was pretty sure that she liked him in the same way that he liked her, but he’d come to know her well enough to know that any attempts to initiate a … more intimate relationship on his part would only end up scaring her off. But he could be patient - it wasn’t like he’d ever met anyone who’d made him feel so … comfortable before, so at ease with himself. X pulled her legs back up onto the sofa, resuming her straight-backed, cross-legged position. But her tail continued to run across his body and the grin continued to stay stretched across his face as they watched the rest of the movie. 

     Jason moved fluidly between the large metallic crates of the docks, taking out thugs left and right. They’d gotten a tip about one of Falcone’s new shipments coming in that night and he, Dick and Tim had volunteered to go after it. 

     “All that money and this is the best Falcone could get?” Jason joked, easily knocking out yet another goon. “I could take these guys out in my sleep!” 

     “Careful what you wish for, Hood,” Tim warned him, tossing aside another two goons trying to stop them on their way to their target. He clapped his hands together, dusting them off, then joined up with Jason when he turned the corner. 

     “Yeah, this seems a little … underwhelming,” Dick pointed out, still holding onto his escrima sticks as they approached the containers they’d been looking for. Jason shrugged, already thinking about what he and X could do with the extra few hours he had now that their mission had ended so early. Maybe they could watch another movie? But they always watched movies. She liked watching movies though. And he liked the quiet moments with her, their bodies brushing up against each other as they cuddled up together on his sofa - yes, they’d reached the cuddling stage. But she still wouldn’t confess her feelings to him! 

     “Ah, shit,” Tim sighed suddenly, breaking into Jason’s thoughts. Jason looked up and let out a tired huff when he found more than a dozen thugs slipping out of the shadows and surrounding them: ‘shit’ was right. He glanced over at his brothers, a moment of silent understanding passing between them, then the three of them dove into the fray. 

     “Did Falcone … get a cloning machine … or something?!” Dick yelled as he tried to stave off a seemingly never-ending stream of thugs. Jason didn’t respond, too focused on trying to defend himself from the group swarming him. But his efforts were futile and he soon found himself struggling to stay on his feet. 

     “What the f*ck?!” one of the goons yelled, dropping his baton as he stared at the sky in shock. The others turned to follow his gaze and panicked when they saw a strange creature swooping through the sky towards them. It blocked out the night sky with its large, bat-like wings and flicked goons away from them with its long, agile tail. 

     “What the hell is that?!” Tim screeched, trying to come up with a plan to deal with the terrifyingly powerful creature after they’d managed to overpower the army of thugs. It was official: Hell was empty and all the demons were in Gotham. 

     “That’s my friend!” Jason yelled back quickly, fighting to get to X’s side before either of his brothers could even think about hurting her. Dick nodded in understanding, convinced by the relief evident in Jason’s voice, and finally allowed himself to turn his back to X. Jason brought the handle of his gun down on the last goon standing between him and his friend, then he rushed forward to help her. “Took you long enough, princess. I was worried you weren’t going to show up this time.” 

     X felt her cheeks heat up at his mischievous tone as she swiped her tail at the last few stragglers of the pack, easily knocking them off their feet, and her eyes widened with horror when she heard a giggle escape her own mouth - a giggle! What was the world coming to?! She cleared her throat quickly, hoping Jason hadn’t heard it, and smoothed her expression before turning around to face him. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted down to her slightly, and she just knew that he was wearing one of those smug grins he’d flash her every time he managed to provoke such unseemly reactions out of her. She rolled her eyes and cast her gaze to the ground as she waited for the flush to dissipate from her cheeks … but now she’d gotten the image of his smile stuck in her head! And Gods, he always looked so handsome when he smiled. 

     Jason’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he watched her try to hide her adorable reaction to him. She’d started joining him on his missions a few weeks ago, swooping out of nowhere just when he thought he was going to be overpowered by whichever lowlives he was fighting that night, and he couldn’t not look into it, right? Look into what it meant that she’d fly around the city, keeping an eye on him even when he’d told her they wouldn’t be able to hang out that night because he’d gotten stuck on another mission? Always saving his skin exactly when he needed her? 

     “Hey,” Dick greeted X cheerfully, holding a hand out to her in greeting. “Nice to meet you, friend of Jason! I’m Dick - his insufferably-better-than-him-in-every-way older brother.” 

     X studied his hand carefully as Jason punched his brother in the arm, still cautious about interacting so closely with anyone. But Jason seemed to trust him, so she was sure that she could too. She reached out and hesitantly took hold of his hand, shaking it gently before releasing it and burying herself into Jason’s side. 

     Jason grinned happily beneath his mask as he reached an arm around her waist and ran his fingers along her reassuringly. She’d been so averse to human touch when they’d first started hanging out, always so careful to keep at least an inch of space between them. He’d respected her boundaries though, silently reassuring her that she could trust him enough to allow herself to be vulnerable with him, and soon, she’d be seeking him out, quietly sauntering over to him and curling up against his side no matter what he might have been doing right then. He’d jumped at the opportunity at first, eagerly wrapping his arm around her and running his fingers along her surprisingly soft body, but she’d practically hissed at him the first time it had happened and he’d quickly learned that she had to be the one to ask for it first. Honestly, she was more like a cat than a dragon, sometimes. 

     “I’m Tim!” Tim introduced himself, coming up beside Dick. “The objectively best brother out of us all.” X let out a little snort at his declaration and Jason narrowed his eyes at his brother beneath his helmet, suddenly overcome with a wave of jealousy. But then X pressed herself deeper into his side and that victorious smirk returned to his lips. 

     “So, we done for the night? Great. See you tomorrow.” Jason waved them off as he spun X around to where he’d parked his bike and X snickered softly when she heard Tim and Dick’s exclamations of confused outrage behind them. 

     “So,” Jason began, getting onto his motorcycle, “you wanna get some ice cream, princess? As a thank you for saving my life? Again?” 

     X fiddled with the helmet he’d handed her, taking a moment to examine the rush of delight that swept through her at the thought of laughing over ice cream with him. She liked spending time with him - loved it, in fact - but she still couldn’t figure out why he seemed to enjoy it so much too. She didn’t have much to offer him, after all, with her strange build and her serious demeanour and her quiet nature. But he always seemed so happy when he was with her; so relaxed, like there was something about her that made him feel comfortable enough to just be himself. “Is there anywhere that sells ice cream this late?” 

     Jason sucked in a breath as her hands travelled up his body, running along his chest before landing on his shoulders and gripping onto them. Then he shook his head and forced himself back down to reality. “Uh, yeah! McDonald’s is open twenty four hours, right?” 

     X squeezed his shoulders gently in agreement and the two of them sped off into the night.

     X tucked her wings tightly against her back as she took a careful step into the darkened warehouse. Jason had sent her a text earlier cancelling their usual movie date and asking her to meet him at one of his secret warehouses by the docks instead. His message had been vague, so she didn’t know what to expect once she’d arrived, but … she trusted him. X stopped just inside the entrance and was about to shift her eyes so she could look into the darkness, but then a light ‘click’ sounded and suddenly, the room was illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped elegantly from the rafters and around the beams. X smiled as she surveyed the wide, open space, and her delight only grew when she saw a cosy little nook in the corner decorated with piles of pillows and blankets and a projector set up to display movies on a blank wall. 

     “So, what do you think?” Jason asked from behind her. X turned around to face him and found him rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited for her reaction.

     “What is this, Jay?” she breathed, that adorable little smile still stretched across her normally stoic features. Shit, he loved her smile. 

     “I-” he paused to clear his throat, trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy running through his veins: he’d never done such a big gesture for anyone before. But he’d never liked anyone as much as he liked her! Ugh! “I made it. For you. So you wouldn’t need to worry about people spotting you anymore anytime you wanted a flight.” 

     Oh Gods. She wasn’t completely certain, having never experienced such an emotion before, but she was quite sure that she was in love with him. He was just so sweet and so thoughtful, always so patient and gentle with her. X reached up to wipe away a stray tear before it could fall down her cheek, then she clutched her hands close to her chest and took a step towards him. 

     Jason rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly, unused to the adoring look on her face. It wasn’t that she’d never hinted to him how she might have felt about him, it was just that she always kept such a tight hold on her emotions, never letting anything she felt show on her face. He waited patiently as she continued to walk slowly to him, until finally, she’d buried herself in his chest, snuggling up against him and waiting expectantly for him to slide his arms around her. Jason chuckled softly and did as she wanted, wrapping her up comfortably against him. 

     “Why …” X pulled back from him slightly, a little confused, but still with that smile lighting up her face. “Why would you do all this for me, Jason?” 

     “Because I like seeing you happy,” he replied easily, as if the answer was as simple as that. “It makes me happy.” 

     “But …” X paused to giggle softly and Jason’s heart swelled at the way she let it linger instead of quickly swallowing it down like she usually did. “But that’s so silly!” 

     “Why is it silly?” Jason asked, bending over to brush his nose lightly against hers. X laughed again and slid her arms around his neck, letting the front of her body brush up against his. 

     “Because … Because it’s not fair,” she pointed out, stretching onto her toes to rest her head on his shoulder. “How can I make you so happy when I don’t even do anything?! I’m just … I’m so boring!” 

     She pulled back to look at him, her lips pushed out into a cute little pout, and Jason let out another soft chuckle. “You are not boring, X. You like the same music as me, the same movies as me, you’re killer at bowling and you fight even better than Dick!” 

     Her chest warmed at the face that he hadn’t mentioned her dragon abilities at all: he liked her. Half-dragon or not, he would have liked her anyway, it seemed. X lowered her head as her cheeks flushed with happiness then, before she could second guess herself, she bounced up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. 

     Jason let out a muffled exclamation of surprise, caught off guard by the sudden action. Then he bent over to make it easier for her to reach his mouth. X giggled softly as she kissed him and he didn’t know how much time had passed when they finally pulled away from one another. 

     “So … you wanna watch a movie?” Jason suggested, gesturing to the cosy corner he’d set up for them. X nodded eagerly and pulled him over to the pile of pillows before pushing him down and settling herself in his arms. 

     “Should we watch a romcom tonight?” she asked, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. Jason grinned and leaned forward to give her a few quick pecks on the lips. 

     “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

[asktheevilgeniusesson]

[ @theshadowandhislight ] [RP PROMPT - Stumble]

It was a very late night.

Through the night there were mixtures of howls and roars. then those became more vicious with the sound of robotic gunfire. eventually? whatever was making the howling and roars cease. not permanently, but enough to shut up and bolt off.

or atleast you'd think it bolted off.

The Alien Werehog found himself, bleeding dark greenish purple blood in the grass, stumbling out to the front of the egg base. to him it looked like he was back at his and sonic's house, way too out of his feral mind to realize hew as walking to the door of potential danger for him. potentially. as he wasn't going to be as easy to contain as Silver was in his werehog status.

Shadow, in this form, collapses at the front of the base and curls up by the door. to his feral unhinged mind right now, he thought he was home. this was what he had been doing to keep from putting Sonic at danger. this time, he didn't know he was at the wrong doorstep.

The VERY wrong doorstep.

Since.. metal was elsewhere on a mission, infinite had been the one put on patrols to guard the base from the outside. He was aware of the gunfire that took place, but he’d never guess he’d find the ultimate lifeform bleeding out at their doorstep.. ofcourse, cautious, the jackal approached, adjusting his mask on as he does. Hes aware what shadow is. And how easy this werehog could launch up and snap his body into two pieces rather quickly. But..

He hates this hog. He made him an orphan and had him watch his families last breaths— hes hated shadow since he started working for wggman but- he snarls. Claws digging into his own arms. No. No stop this. Stop— STOP feeling BAD- this is NOTHING like what you went through! Hes nothing to you! Stop- stop being so remorseful!

It felt like an argument with himself. Quiet snarls and growls as he digs his claws deep into his arms as he mentally argues back and forth with himself. It was like barking at a child. Sharply, he takes a breath and stares at the bloody werehog. They’d be dumber then rocks to capture him and cage him. Sonic would come bursting right through and cause more damage.. the jackal takes afew turns of his head, to see if anyone else has alerted the doctor or seen him. He turns back to shadow and with a sharp inhale, digs his claws out of his own skin. Risking everything by inching closer. He wants to help. But WHY. This hog is the reason hes stuck being a lackey but.. ghh..

Slowly the canine looks him over, tries to find the worst of his injuries and reaching his paw out.. he carefully pressed his paw to the werehogs wound, trying to plug it and stop the bleeding. His arms and paws shake the entire time as he knows how dangerously stupid this is. How easily he could die. How easily those jaws could crush his helmet, with his skull still in it. He hates everything about this. How weak he feels in this situation. How he feels like a pup who just wants to help people again. Its making him alot more shaky about this then it should. Hes mentally hoping that shadow will either make it quick if he attacks, or lets him live. He tightly closes his eyes as he prepares for the sharp, cold embrace of those massive jaws crushing his body.

[josephwoll]

equipment prep | can @ ott

[pucksandpower]

Unremembered

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: imagine looking the love of your life in their eyes and seeing a stranger stare back — but Max doesn’t have to imagine, not when this is his reality

Warnings: serious injury and memory loss

The roar of the V6 engine fills Max’s ears as he navigates the twists and turns of the Zandvoort circuit. It’s the first practice session of the Dutch Grand Prix weekend, and Max is in his element, pushing his Red Bull to its limits.

Suddenly, his race engineer’s voice crackles through the radio. “Max, box this lap. Come back to the garage.”

Max furrows his brow, confused. “What? Why? The car feels fine.”

“Max, just box now. It’s important,” GP insists, his tone unusually stern.

Reluctantly, Max steers his car into the pit lane, frustration building. As he pulls into the garage, he notices an unusual flurry of activity. His performance coach, Rupert, is waiting with a grim expression.

“Max, out of the car. Now,” Rupert says urgently.

Max climbs out, yanking off his helmet. “What’s going on? Why did you pull me in?”

Rupert takes a deep breath. “Max, I answered a call on your phone while you were out there. It was the hospital.”

Max’s heart skips a beat. “The hospital? What”

“It’s about Y/N,” Rupert says softly. “She was in a car accident on her way here. It’s ... it’s serious, Max. They’ve taken her to the trauma center.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis. Max grabs Rupert’s arm to steady himself. “What? No, that can’t ... is she okay?”

Rupert shakes his head. “I don’t know. They didn’t give me details. But they said you should come right away.”

Without another word, Max bolts towards the exit. Rupert calls after him, “I’ll drive you!”

The car ride to the hospital is a blur. Max stares out the window, his mind racing. “This can’t be happening,” he mutters. “We were just talking this morning. She was excited to watch practice ...”

Rupert glances at him sympathetically. “Try not to assume the worst. Y/N’s tough. She’ll pull through this.”

Max nods numbly, willing himself to believe it. They screech to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and Max is out of the car before Rupert can even put it in park.

At the reception desk, Max’s words tumble out in a panicked rush. “My girlfriend was brought in. Car accident. Y/N Y/L/N. Where is she?”

The nurse types rapidly. “She’s in surgery right now. If you’ll have a seat in the waiting area, the doctor will come speak with you as soon as possible.”

Max paces the waiting room like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair. Rupert tries to calm him, but Max barely hears him. After what feels like an eternity, a doctor approaches.

“Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?”

Max nods frantically. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend. Is she okay?”

The doctor’s expression is grave. “She’s out of surgery now. The accident was very serious. She has multiple broken bones and internal injuries. We’ve stabilized her, but ...”

“But what?” Max demands, his voice cracking.

“She suffered a significant head injury. There’s swelling in her brain. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until she wakes up.”

Max sways on his feet. Rupert steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “Can I see her?” Max asks weakly.

The doctor nods. “She’s in the ICU. I must warn you, she’s heavily sedated and on a ventilator. It may be distressing to see her like this.”

Max follows the doctor down sterile hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach Y/N’s room, he freezes in the doorway. The sight of her lying there, battered and bruised, hooked up to machines, is like a physical blow.

He approaches the bed slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “Y/N,” he whispers, gently taking her hand. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

Hours pass. Max refuses to leave her side, holding her hand and talking to her softly. Nurses come and go. Rupert brings him coffee that goes cold, untouched.

As evening falls, Max notices her fingers twitch. He leans forward eagerly. “Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids flutter, then slowly open. Max’s heart soars. “Y/N! Oh, thank God. You’re awake. How do you feel?”

But something’s wrong. Her eyes are unfocused, confused. She looks at Max blankly, then around the room in bewilderment.

“Where ... where am I?” She croaks, her voice hoarse from the ventilator tube that was recently removed.

“You’re in the hospital,” Max explains gently. “You were in an accident, but you’re going to be okay now.”

She frowns, struggling to process. “An accident? I don’t ... I don’t remember ...”

Max squeezes her hand reassuringly. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. I’m just so glad you’re awake.”

But she pulls her hand away, shrinking back slightly. Her eyes narrow as she studies his face. “I’m sorry, but ... who are you?”

***

Max’s world comes crashing down with those three simple words. He stares at you, his mouth agape, unable to process what he’s just heard. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot, too bright.

“Who ... who am I?” Max repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Max. Your boyfriend.”

You shake your head slowly, wincing at the movement. “I’m sorry, I don’t ... I don’t know you. I don’t remember having a boyfriend.”

Max’s heart shatters into a million pieces. He takes a step back, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Okay, okay,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “The doctor said there might be ... complications. This is just temporary. It has to be.”

You watch him warily, confusion and fear evident in your eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why can’t I remember anything?”

Max takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needs to be strong for you, even if you don’t know who he is. “You were in a car accident,” he explains gently. “You hit your head pretty badly. The doctors said there might be some memory loss, but ... I didn’t think ...”

His voice trails off as he sees tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m scared,” you whisper. “I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember coming here. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Max instinctively reaches out to comfort you, but stops himself, realizing his touch might not be welcome. “It’s okay to be scared,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, even if you don’t remember me right now.”

A nurse enters the room, breaking the tension. She smiles warmly at you. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You turn to her, relief evident in your voice. “Everything hurts and I’m so confused. I can’t remember anything.”

The nurse nods sympathetically. “That’s not uncommon with head injuries. Try not to worry too much. Your memories may come back gradually as the swelling in your brain goes down.”

Max interjects, his voice tight with worry. “But she will remember, right? This isn’t ... permanent?”

The nurse’s expression turns cautious. “Every case is different. We’ll need to run some more tests now that she’s awake. The neurologist will be by soon to evaluate her.”

Max nods numbly, feeling like he’s trapped in a nightmare he can’t wake up from. The nurse checks your vitals and adjusts your medication before leaving the room.

An uncomfortable silence falls. You fidget with the edge of your blanket, avoiding Max’s gaze. “So ... we’re together?” You ask hesitantly.

Max nods, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, for almost two years now. We live together in Monaco.”

Your eyes widen. “Monaco? But I’m ... I’m not rich. At least, I don’t think I am.”

Despite everything, Max can’t help but chuckle. “No, but I am. I’m a Formula 1 driver. That’s why we were here in the Netherlands. It’s race weekend, and you were coming to watch me practice.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is so strange. It’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life. I can’t imagine dating a famous race car driver.”

Max’s heart clenches at your words. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos. “Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “Maybe these will help jog your memory.”

You take the phone hesitantly, swiping through picture after picture of the two of you together. At the beach, at fancy galas, cuddled up on the couch. In every photo, you both look blissfully happy.

“We look ... so in love,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“We are,” Max says softly. “Or at least, we were. I still am.”

You hand the phone back, your expression troubled. “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember. You seem like a really nice guy, and clearly we had something special, but ... it’s all blank.”

Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Just then, a doctor enters the room. “Ah, good to see you awake,” he says briskly. “I’m Dr. Smeets, the neurologist on your case. How are you feeling?”

You explain your symptoms and memory loss while the doctor makes notes. Max hovers anxiously in the background, hanging on every word.

“Well,” Dr. Smeets says finally, “the good news is that your physical injuries are progressing nicely. The memory loss is concerning, but not entirely unexpected given the trauma to your brain.”

“Will she get her memories back?” Max asks, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

The doctor’s expression is guarded. “It’s impossible to say for certain. Retrograde amnesia can be unpredictable. Sometimes memories return quickly, sometimes it takes months or even years. And in some cases ...”

“Some cases what?” Max presses.

Dr. Smeets sighs. “In some cases, the memories never fully return. But,” he adds quickly, seeing the stricken look on Max’s face, “that’s relatively rare. The best thing you can do is be patient. Surround her with familiar people and places. Sometimes sensory triggers can help unlock memories.”

Max nods, clinging to that small hope. “Thank you, doctor. What’s the next step?”

“We’ll keep her here for observation for a few more days, run some more tests. After that, assuming there are no complications, she can be discharged to recover at home.”

After the doctor leaves, Max turns to you with forced cheerfulness. “See? That’s good news. You’ll be out of here soon, and then we can go home and work on getting your memories back.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Going ... home with you. I mean, you seem great, but you’re still a stranger to me.”

Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he forces himself to nod. “Of course. I understand. We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can stay with your parents for a while?”

You nod, looking relieved. “That sounds better. I remember my parents, at least.”

An awkward silence falls. Max clears his throat. “Do you want me to call them?”

“Would you mind? I don’t even know where my phone is.”

Max steps out into the hallway to make the call, grateful for a moment to collect himself. When he returns, you’re looking out the window, lost in thought.

“They’re on their way,” Max says softly. “They’ll be here in a few hours.”

You turn to him, your expression softening slightly. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Max shrugs. “Of course I did. I care about you, even if you don’t remember that right now.”

You study him for a long moment. “Can you ... can you tell me about us? How we met, what our life is like? Maybe it’ll help bring something back.”

Max’s heart leaps at the request. He pulls a chair closer to your bed and begins to talk, recounting the story of your relationship. How you met at a charity event, how nervous he was to ask you out, your first date at a little Italian restaurant in Monaco.

As he speaks, you listen intently, searching your mind for any flicker of recognition. But the memories remain frustratingly out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, interrupting his story about your first vacation together. “None of this is ringing any bells. It all sounds wonderful, but ... it’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life.”

Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. The doctor said it might take time. We just have to be patient.”

You nod, but your expression is troubled. “What if ... what if I never remember? What if these memories are just gone forever?”

Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Then we’ll make new ones,” he says firmly. “I love you, Y/N. That hasn’t changed. If I have to make you fall in love with me all over again, I will.”

You look at him, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet. But what if I’m not the same person anymore? What if the me you fell in love with is gone?”

Max shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not possible. You’re still you, even if you can’t remember everything right now. The core of who you are, that hasn’t changed. I know it.”

You don’t look convinced, but you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”

Just then, a commotion in the hallway catches their attention. Your parents burst into the room, faces etched with worry.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Your mother cries, rushing to your bedside. “We were so worried!”

Your face lights up with recognition. “Mom! Dad!” You exclaim, reaching out to hug them.

Max steps back, giving your family space for their reunion. He watches with a mixture of relief and jealousy as you interact easily with your parents, the rapport between you unchanged by your memory loss.

After a few minutes, your father turns to Max. “Thank you for calling us, and for being here with her.”

Max nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Of course. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Your mother looks between Max and you, sensing the tension. “Is everything okay?”

You bite your lip, looking uncomfortable. “Mom, I-I can’t remember Max. Or anything about our relationship. The doctor says I have amnesia from the accident.”

Your parents exchange worried glances. Your father puts a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, son. This must be incredibly difficult for you both.”

Max nods, not trusting himself to speak. Your mother turns to you. “But surely you remember something? You and Max have been so happy together.”

You shake your head sadly. “I’m trying, but it’s all blank. I’m sorry.”

An awkward silence falls over the room. Finally, your father clears his throat. “Well, the important thing is that you’re going to be okay. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

Max nods in agreement, but inside, he’s screaming. How can he just stand by and watch as the love of his life slips away? But he knows he has to be patient, to give you space to heal and hopefully remember.

“I should probably go,” he says reluctantly. “Let you have some time with your family.”

You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you for staying with me. And for ... for everything.”

Max forces a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine. Maybe ... maybe you can bring some more photos? Or videos? Something that might help trigger my memory?”

Max’s heart swells with hope. “Absolutely. I’ll bring everything I can think of.”

As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”

He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”

You give him a small, uncertain smile. “I’m glad I have someone like you in my life. Even if I can’t remember it right now.”

Max blinks back tears as he nods. “Always,” he whispers. “I’m always here for you.”

***

Max trudges into his hotel suite, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a physical force. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. The room is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside him.

He fumbles for the light switch, wincing as the bright overhead lights flicker on. The suite feels cavernous and empty without you here. Your suitcase sits untouched in the corner, a painful reminder of the plans you’d made for this weekend.

Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, seeing a flood of missed calls and messages. His team, his family, the media — all clamoring for information, for his attention. He can’t deal with any of it right now.

With trembling hands, he switches off his phone and tosses it onto the bed. He paces the room, energy thrumming through his body with nowhere to go. He should shower, should eat something, should call his manager and figure out what to do about the race weekend. But he can’t bring himself to do any of it.

Instead, he finds himself drawn to your suitcase. He kneels beside it, running his hand over the familiar fabric. Slowly, almost reverently, he unzips it. Your neatly folded clothes, your favorite perfume, the book you’d been reading on the plane — all these little pieces of you, reminders of the life you shared.

Max pulls out one of your sweaters, burying his face in the soft material. It still smells like you. And suddenly, the dam breaks.

A sob tears from his throat, raw and primal. Tears he’s held back for years, through every hardship and setback, finally break free. Max crumples to the floor, clutching your sweater to his chest as he weeps.

“Why?” He chokes out between sobs. “Why her? Why us?”

The tears keep coming, relentless. Max cries for the pain you’re in, for the memories you’ve lost, for the future that suddenly seems so uncertain. He cries for the little boy who was left alone at a gas station, for the young man who walked away from a horrific crash. He cries for every emotion he’s ever pushed down, every vulnerability he’s hidden behind a mask of determination and focus.

Through his tears, he hears a knock at the door. He ignores it, unable to face anyone right now. But the knocking persists, followed by a familiar voice.

“Max? It’s me. Open up, mate.”

Max considers pretending he’s not here, but he knows Daniel won’t give up easily.bWiping his face on his sleeve, Max staggers to his feet and opens the door. Daniel takes one look at his tear-stained face and immediately pulls him into a tight hug.

“Oh, mate,” Daniel says softly. “I just heard. I’m so sorry.”

Max breaks down again, sobbing into Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just holds him tightly, letting him cry it out.

Finally, Max pulls away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daniel steers him towards the couch, closing the door behind them. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Max. You’re hurting. It’s okay to let it out.”

Max collapses onto the couch, feeling utterly drained. Daniel sits beside him, his usual joking demeanor replaced by genuine concern.

“Talk to me,” Daniel urges gently. “What happened?”

Max takes a shuddering breath. “She doesn’t remember me. She looked right at me and had no idea who I was. It’s like ... it’s like the last two years never happened for her.”

Daniel winces in sympathy. “That’s rough, mate. But the doctors think it’s temporary, right?”

Max shrugs helplessly. “They don’t know. It might come back, it might not. And even if it does, how long will it take? Weeks? Months? Years?”

“And you’re worried she won’t fall for you again,” Daniel says softly, understanding dawning on his face.

Max nods miserably. “What if she doesn’t? What if the girl I fell in love with is just ... gone? I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be around her when she doesn’t even know me.”

Daniel is quiet for a moment, considering. “You know,” he says finally, “when I first met Y/N, I thought you were crazy.”

Max looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Daniel grins. “Come on, mate. Mad Max settling down with a normal girl? I thought for sure it was just a phase, that you’d get bored and move on to the next model or whatever.”

Max bristles slightly. “Y/N’s not just some normal girl. She’s-”

“I know, I know,” Daniel interrupts, holding up his hands. “That’s my point. It didn’t take long for me to see how special she is, and how perfect you two are together. You bring out the best in each other. That connection, that spark — it’s still there, Max. Even if she can’t remember it right now.”

Max shakes his head. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see her in that hospital bed, looking at me like I was a total stranger. It was like ... like everything we had just disappeared in an instant.”

Daniel leans forward, his expression serious. “Listen to me. The memories might be gone for now, but the feelings? The connection you two have? That doesn’t just disappear. It’s still there, buried deep inside her. You just have to be patient and give her time to find it again.”

Max wants to believe him, but doubt gnaws at his heart. “What if she doesn’t want to? What if she decides she’s better off without me?”

Daniel scoffs. “Not a chance, mate. You’re Max fucking Verstappen. What girl wouldn’t want you?”

The joke falls flat. Max just stares at the floor, shoulders slumped. Daniel sighs, realizing humor isn’t the answer right now.

“Look,” he says softly, “I know you’re scared. But think about it this way — you’ve been given a chance to fall in love all over again. To experience all those firsts one more time. It’s not ideal, sure, but it’s not the end of the world either.”

Max looks up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really think she could fall for me again?”

Daniel grins. “Are you kidding? She fell for you once when you were an arrogant little shit. Now that you’re slightly less of an arrogant little shit, it should be a piece of cake.”

Despite everything, Max finds himself chuckling. “Thanks, asshole.”

Daniel’s expression turns serious again. “I mean it, though. You can’t give up. Y/N needs you now more than ever, even if she doesn’t realize it. You have to be strong for her.”

Max nods slowly. “I know. I just ... I don’t know how to do this. How to be around her when she doesn’t know me. When she looks at me like I’m a stranger.”

Daniel considers this for a moment. “Maybe that’s your advantage. You get to introduce yourself to her all over again. Show her the Max that she fell in love with in the first place.”

Max mulls this over. “I guess ... I guess that could work. But what if I screw it up? What if I say or do the wrong thing and push her away?”

Daniel claps him on the shoulder. “That’s where your friends come in. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need, we’re here for you. Both of you.”

For the first time since the accident, Max feels a spark of genuine hope. “Thanks. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Daniel grins. “Probably crash and burn spectacularly. But that’s why we keep you around — you’re entertaining.”

Max rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now. “Seriously, though. How do I do this? How do I help her remember without overwhelming her?”

Daniel thinks for a moment. “Start small. Don’t dump your whole history on her at once. Share little stories, show her pictures. Let her get to know you again naturally. And most importantly, be patient. This isn’t a race you can win by pushing harder. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Max nods, feeling a sense of determination replacing his earlier despair. “You’re right. I can do this. I have to do this. For her.”

Daniel smiles, seeing the familiar fire returning to his friend’s eyes. “That’s the Max I know. Now, have you eaten anything? Because I’m starving, and room service is calling my name.”

Max realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “Food sounds good,” he admits.

As Daniel picks up the phone to order, Max’s thoughts turn to you. He imagines you in that hospital bed, scared and confused. He makes a silent promise to himself, and to you, that he’ll do whatever it takes to help you remember. And if you can’t remember, he’ll make new memories with you, ones just as beautiful as the ones you’ve lost.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of food, conversation, and planning. Daniel helps Max sort through the flood of messages on his phone, crafting responses to his team and family. They decide that Max will skip the rest of the race weekend — his mind isn’t in the right place to drive safely, and you need him more than the team does right now.

As the night wears on, Daniel eventually leaves, extracting a promise from Max to call if he needs anything. Left alone, Max finds himself drawn once again to your suitcase. This time, instead of breaking down, he begins to pack a bag.

Photos, mementos, little things that might spark a memory — he carefully selects items to bring to the hospital tomorrow. As he works, he talks to you in his mind, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again.

“I know you’re scared,” he murmurs, folding one of your favorite hoodies. “I’m scared too. But we’re going to get through this together. I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

As he zips up the bag, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead won’t be easy, but he’s ready to face it. Because at the end of that road is you, and a love worth fighting for.

Max crawls into bed, exhausted but no longer despairing. As he drifts off to sleep, his last thought is of you. Of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you look at him. He holds onto these memories, these precious fragments of your life together, knowing that somehow, someway, he’ll find a way to share them with you again.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance to help you remember. And Max Verstappen has never been one to back down from a challenge.

***

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as Max makes his way through the quiet hospital corridors. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway, the bag slung over his shoulder feeling heavier with each step. Inside are the stuffed versions of Jimmy and Sassy, and your favorite hoodie —his hoodie, really, but you’ve claimed it as your own.

As he approaches your room, Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He knocks softly before entering, not wanting to startle you if you’re asleep.

You’re awake, sitting up in bed and staring out the window. When you turn to look at him, there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes, but it’s followed quickly by confusion.

“Max, right?” You say hesitantly.

Max forces a smile, trying to hide the pain those words cause. “That’s right. How are you feeling this morning?”

You shrug, wincing slightly at the movement. “Sore. Confused. But the doctors say I’m healing well, physically at least.”

Max nods, moving closer to the bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I brought some things for you. I thought they might help make you more comfortable.”

You eye the bag curiously. “Oh? That’s ... that’s very kind of you.”

Max sets the bag on the bed and starts unpacking. First, he pulls out the stuffed cats. “These are Jimmy and Sassy,” he explains. “Well, stuffed versions of them. They’re our cats. You can’t travel without these because you miss the real ones so much.”

Your eyes light up as you reach for the stuffed animals. “We have cats? I love cats!”

Max chuckles, a warmth spreading through his chest at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, two Bengal cats. They’re like little troublemakers, always getting into mischief. You adore them.”

You hug the stuffed cats close, a small smile playing on your lips. “Tell me about them?”

Max sits in the chair beside your bed, grateful for the opening. “Well, Jimmy is the older one. He’s very dignified, or at least he tries to be. But he has a weakness for cardboard boxes. No matter how expensive a cat bed we buy him, he always prefers a random Amazon box.”

You giggle at that, and the sound is like music to Max’s ears. He continues, “Sassy is younger and true to her name. She’s always chattering away, meowing at us like she’s telling us about her day. And she has this thing for water —she’ll sit by the sink for hours, just watching the faucet drip.”

“They sound wonderful,” you say softly, stroking the stuffed cats’ fur. “I wish I could remember them.”

Max reaches into the bag again. “Maybe this will help,” he says, pulling out the hoodie. “This is your favorite thing to wear around the house. Well, my hoodie that you’ve completely taken over.”

You take the hoodie, running your hands over the soft fabric. You bring it to your face, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, Max’s heart soars with hope. But then you shake your head.

“It smells ... familiar,” you say slowly. “But I can’t place it. I’m sorry.”

Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. Don’t push yourself. The doctors said it might take time.”

You nod, but he can see the frustration in your eyes. “It’s just so strange,” you murmur. “I know things, like I know I love cats, but I can’t remember our cats. I know this hoodie is important, but I can’t remember why.”

Max leans forward, his voice gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time to heal.”

You look at him, really look at him, for the first time since he entered the room. “You’re being so patient with me. It must be hard for you, seeing me like this.”

Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s not easy,” he admits. “But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. You pull on the hoodie, snuggling into its warmth. “So,” you say after a while, “tell me more about us. How did we meet?”

Max’s face lights up at the question. “It was at a charity gala in Monaco,” he begins. “I was there representing the team and you were there with some friends. I saw you across the room and ... I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on your lips. “Oh really? Was it love at first sight?”

Max chuckles. “More like anxiety at first sight for me. I was so nervous to talk to you. I must have circled the room three times before I worked up the courage to approach you.”

“You? Nervous?” You say, sounding surprised. “But you’re a famous racing driver. Surely you’re used to talking to people.”

Max shrugs. “On the track, sure. But off it? Especially with beautiful women? I’m a disaster. But something about you ... I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to talk to you.”

You lean back against your pillows, looking intrigued. “So what happened? Did you sweep me off my feet with your charm?”

Max bursts out laughing. “God, no. I was a complete mess. I walked up to you, tried to say something smooth, and ended up knocking over a tray of champagne glasses. Drenched myself and nearly you too.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh no! That sounds mortifying.”

“It was,” Max agrees. “I was ready to run away and hide forever. But then you did something amazing. Instead of being upset or embarrassed, you started laughing. Not at me, but with me. You helped me clean up, made a joke about how I was smoother on the track than off it, and then ... you asked me to dance.”

You smile at that. “I did? That was brave of me.”

Max nods, his eyes soft with the memory. “It was. You later told me you thought I was cute when I was flustered. We danced for hours that night, talking about everything and nothing. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to see you again.”

“And the rest is history?” You ask.

“Not quite,” Max says with a grin. “I still had to convince you to go on a proper date with me. And let me tell you, dating a Formula 1 driver isn’t always easy. But we made it work. We’ve been together for two years now, living in Monaco.”

You absorb this information, your brow furrowed in concentration. “It sounds like a fairytale,” you say softly. “I wish I could remember it.”

Max reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “You will,” he says firmly. “And if you don’t, we’ll make new memories. Even better ones.”

You squeeze his hand, offering a small smile. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Max says without hesitation. “Because I know you, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember right now, I know the person you are. Your kindness, your strength, your incredible spirit. That hasn’t changed. It’s still there, inside you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “I want to believe you,” you whisper. “But it’s so hard. Everything feels so ... disconnected. Like I’m living someone else’s life.”

Max moves to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand. “I know it’s scary,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here, your family’s here. We’ll help you through it, step by step.”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “Thank you. For being here, for bringing these things. It means a lot.”

Max smiles, his heart swelling with love for you. “Always. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Just then, a nurse enters the room. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “How are we feeling today?”

You turn to her, still clutching the stuffed cats. “A bit better, I think. Max brought me some things from home.”

The nurse smiles approvingly. “That’s wonderful. Familiar objects can often help in recovery. Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to step out for a bit,” she says to Max. “We need to run some tests and change some dressings.”

Max nods, standing up reluctantly. “Of course. I’ll be back later, if that’s okay?” he asks, looking at you.

You nod, offering a small smile. “I’d like that. Maybe ... maybe you could bring some more things next time? Anything that might help jog my memory?”

Max’s heart leaps at the request. “Absolutely. I’ll bring whatever I can think of.”

As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”

He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you say simply. “For not giving up on me.”

Max feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Never,” he says firmly. “I’ll never give up on you, Y/N. On us.”

As he walks out of the hospital into the bright morning sunshine, Max feels a renewed sense of hope. It won’t be easy, and the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But you’re still you, still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you find your way back to him.

He pulls out his phone, sending a quick message to his team. He won’t be racing this weekend, or perhaps for a while. Some things are more important than Formula 1. Right now, his place is here, by your side, helping you piece together the memories of your life together.

***

The press room is buzzing with anticipation as Max takes his seat at the table. Cameras flash incessantly and the murmur of journalists speculating grows louder. Max’s face is a mask of calm, but inside, he’s a storm of emotions.

His manager, Raymond, leans in close before stepping away. “Remember, keep it brief. No details about Y/N unless absolutely necessary.”

Max nods curtly, his jaw clenched. The past few days have been a whirlwind of hospital visits, tense conversations with the team, and now this — facing the media to explain his decision to step away from racing.

The room falls silent as the press conference begins. A Red Bull spokesperson steps up to the microphone.

“Good afternoon, everyone. As you know, Max Verstappen has announced his decision to take a leave of absence from Formula 1 for an undetermined period. Max will now take your questions.”

The room erupts with raised hands and shouted questions. Max points to a familiar face in the front row.

“Max, can you explain the reasoning behind this sudden decision? You’re in the midst of a tight championship battle. Why step away now?”

Max takes a deep breath. “I understand this comes as a surprise to many. There are personal matters that require my full attention right now. I can’t go into details, but I assure you, this decision wasn’t made lightly.”

Another journalist jumps in before he can choose the next question. “But surely these personal matters could be handled while continuing to race? Many drivers balance personal issues with their careers.”

Max feels a flicker of irritation. “Every situation is unique. In this case, I need to step away completely. My focus can’t be divided right now.”

The questions keep coming, each one chipping away at Max’s patience.

“Is this related to your recent performance dip?”

“Are there issues within the team we don’t know about?”

“Some fans are accusing you of abandoning the sport. What do you say to them?”

Max answers each as calmly as he can, but he can feel his control slipping. Then, a question from the back of the room ignites the powder keg.

“Max, there are rumors that this is about a woman. Have you let a relationship interfere with your career?”

The room falls silent, all eyes on Max. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. For a moment, he considers sticking to the script, giving another vague non-answer. But something inside him snaps.

“You want to know the truth?” He says, his voice low and intense. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Raymond steps forward, a warning in his eyes, but Max waves him off.

“My girlfriend was in a serious car accident,” Max continues, his voice growing louder. “She’s in the hospital with severe injuries and memory loss. She doesn’t even remember who I am.”

The room erupts in gasps and furious scribbling. Max stands, leaning forward on the table.

“So yes, I’m stepping away from racing. Because the woman I love needs me. Because some things are more important than trophies or championship points.”

He’s shouting now, years of pent-up frustration with the media pouring out.

“You all sit here and judge me, speculate about my personal life, accuse me of abandoning the sport. But where were you when I was a kid, pushed to the limit by a demanding father? Where were you when I was struggling with the pressure of being the youngest driver in F1 history?”

The room is dead silent now, every journalist hanging on his words.

“I’ve given everything to this sport. I’ve sacrificed friendships, relationships, a normal life. And now, the one time I need to put something else first, you question my commitment?”

Max’s voice breaks slightly, but he pushes on.

“Y/N is fighting for her life, fighting to remember who she is. Who we are together. And you want me to, what? Leave her alone in a hospital room while I zip around a track?”

He looks around the room, meeting the shocked gazes of the journalists.

“So go ahead. Write your stories. Question my decisions. But know this — I don’t regret my choice. Not for a second. Because at the end of the day, the chequered flag won’t keep me warm at night. It won’t laugh at my jokes or hold my hand when I’m stressed.”

Max takes a deep breath, his anger giving way to a deep sadness.

“I love racing. It’s been my whole life. But I love Y/N more. And right now, she needs me. So I’m going to be there for her, every step of the way, until she’s better. Until she remembers us.”

He sits back down, suddenly drained. The room is still silent, the journalists too stunned to even raise their hands for questions.

Finally, a older journalist in the front row clears his throat. “Max, I ... we had no idea. I’m so sorry about Y/N. Can you tell us more about her condition?”

Max shakes his head, his voice softer now. “I’ve already said more than I planned to. Y/N’s privacy is important to me. All I’ll say is that she’s fighting hard, and I’m going to be right there with her.”

Another journalist speaks up. “You mentioned Y/N doesn’t remember you. How are you coping with that?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, considering his words carefully. “It’s ... it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Harder than any race, any championship battle. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and see no recognition ... it’s gut-wrenching.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I’m not giving up. I’m fighting for us, for our memories, for our future. Even if I have to make her fall in love with me all over again.”

The mood in the room has shifted completely. Gone is the adversarial tension, replaced by a somber understanding.

“What can fans do to support you during this time?” Another journalist asks.

Max manages a small smile. “Just ... be patient. Understand that there are things more important than racing. And maybe, if you’re the praying type, keep Y/N in your thoughts.”

The Red Bull spokesperson steps forward, signaling the end of the conference. But Max holds up a hand, not quite finished.

“I want to say one more thing,” he says, his voice steady. “To any of you out there who might be going through something similar — don’t be afraid to step back. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for putting your loved ones first. At the end of the day, that’s what really matters.”

With that, Max stands and walks out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. As soon as he’s out of sight of the cameras, he leans against a wall, emotions overwhelming him.

Raymond approaches cautiously. “That ... didn’t go quite as planned.”

Max lets out a humorless laugh. “No, I suppose it didn’t.”

“You okay?” Raymond asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Max nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. It feels ... good to have it out there. No more hiding, no more vague excuses.”

Raymond squeezes his shoulder. “You did good, kid. It won’t be easy, but people will understand now.”

Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a flood of messages — from his team, his family, even other drivers. But one catches his eye — a text from your mom.

“Just saw the press conference. Y/N would be so proud of you. We all are. Come by the hospital when you can. She’s asking for you.”

Despite everything, Max feels a smile tugging at his lips. He turns to Raymond. “I’ve got to go. Y/N’s waiting.”

Raymond nods understandingly. “Go. We’ll handle things here. Give her our best.”

As Max walks out of the building, he’s greeted by a small crowd of fans. But instead of the anger or disappointment he expected, he sees understanding and support in their faces. Many are holding haphazardly thrown together signs with messages of encouragement for both him and you.

One young girl breaks away from her parents, running up to Max with a hand-drawn card. “This is for Y/N,” she says shyly. “I hope she gets better soon.”

Max kneels down, taking the card with a genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

As he stands, the crowd starts to applaud. It’s not the roar of a race victory, but a softer, more meaningful sound. The sound of people recognizing a different kind of strength, a different kind of victory.

Max raises a hand in acknowledgment before getting into his waiting car. As the driver pulls away, he looks at the card in his hands. It’s a simple drawing of two stick figures holding hands, with the words “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you ❤️” written in childish scrawl.

For the first time in days, Max feels a weight lift from his shoulders. The road ahead is still long and uncertain, but he’s not alone. He has the support of his team, his fans, and most importantly, he has you — even if you can’t remember him yet.

As the car speeds towards the hospital, Max makes a silent promise. To you, to himself, to everyone who’s supporting them. He’ll face this challenge with the same determination and focus he brings to the track. Because this is the most important race of his life — the race to help you remember, to rebuild your life together.

And Max Verstappen doesn’t lose races that matter.

***

Max stands outside your hospital room, the handmade card clutched in his hand. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly and entering.

You’re sitting up in bed, looking more alert than he’s seen you since the accident. Your parents are there too, gathering your things in preparation for your discharge tomorrow.

“Max,” you say, a small smile gracing your lips. It’s not the warm, loving smile he’s used to, but it’s a start. “We saw your press conference.”

Max feels a flush creep up his neck. “Ah, yeah. I, uh, might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Your mother steps forward, enveloping him in a hug. “You were wonderful, dear. So brave and honest.”

“Thanks,” Max mumbles, still not entirely comfortable with praise outside of racing. He turns his attention back to you. “How are you feeling today?”

You shrug slightly. “Better, I think. Still ... confused about a lot of things. But the pain is less.”

Max nods, moving closer to your bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I have something for you.” He holds out the card. “A young fan made this for you after the press conference.”

You take the card, examining the childish drawing with a soft expression. “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you!” You read aloud. Your eyes flick up to meet his. “That’s ... very sweet.”

Max shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Your father, sensing the tension, clears his throat. “We’re going to go get some coffee. Give you two some time to talk.”

As your parents leave the room, an awkward silence falls. Max takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, fidgeting with his hands.

“So,” you say finally, “you’re taking time off from racing. For me.”

Max nods. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay. I know you don’t ... remember us. But I want to be here for you, however you need me to be.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit softly. “Knowing someone’s put their whole life on hold for me.”

Max leans forward, his eyes intense. “Hey, no. Don’t think of it like that. This isn’t a sacrifice or an obligation. It’s a choice. My choice.”

You nod slowly, but he can see the doubt in your eyes. “Tell me something,” you say suddenly. “Something about us. Something ... happy.”

Max feels a smile tugging at his lips as he casts his mind back. “Okay, how about this? Last year, after I won the championship, we took a vacation. Just the two of us, no teams, no press, no obligations.”

“Where did we go?” You ask, curiosity piqued.

“Bali,” Max says, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “We rented this amazing villa right on the beach. You were determined to teach me how to surf.”

A small giggle escapes you. “Did I succeed?”

Max chuckles. “Not even close. I spent more time eating sand than standing on the board. But you were so patient, so encouraging. Even when I was frustrated and ready to give up, you just ... you made it fun.”

“Sounds nice,” you say softly.

“It was more than nice,” Max continues, warming to the subject. “One evening, we were sitting on the beach watching the sunset.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I realized all the trophies, all the victories ... they didn’t compare to just being there with you, watching the sun sink into the ocean.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, absorbing his words. “We sound ... very happy together,” you say finally.

Max nods, blinking back tears. “We are. We were. We will be again.”

You reach out hesitantly, taking his hand. It’s the first time you’ve initiated contact since the accident, and Max feels his heart soar.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m being discharged tomorrow, and I don’t ... I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

Max squeezes your hand gently. “You belong wherever you feel comfortable. If that’s with your parents for now, that’s okay. If you want to try coming home with me, that’s okay too. There’s no pressure, no expectations. We’ll figure this out together, at your pace.”

You nod, looking grateful. “Thank you. For being so understanding. I know this can’t be easy for you either.”

Max shrugs. “It’s not. But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. Max is content to just sit there, holding your hand, savoring this small connection.

After a while, you speak again. “Can you tell me more? About our life together?”

Max’s face lights up. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

You consider for a moment. “What’s a typical day like for us? When you’re not racing, I mean.”

Max leans back in his chair, a fond smile on his face. “Well, you’re definitely the early riser between us. You usually get up first, make coffee. Sometimes you go for a run or do yoga on the balcony.”

“I do yoga?” You ask, sounding surprised.

Max chuckles. “Yeah, you got into it as a way to help me relax between races. Said if it could calm me down, it could work miracles for anyone.”

You laugh at that, a genuine, full laugh that makes Max’s heart skip a beat. It’s the first time he’s heard that sound since the accident.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I usually drag myself out of bed when I smell the coffee. We have breakfast together, usually something healthy that you insist I need.”

“Sounds like I take good care of you,” you observe.

Max nods, his expression softening. “You do. Better than anyone ever has.”

“What else?” You prompt, clearly engrossed in the story of your shared life.

“Well, if I’m training, you often come to the gym with me. You say it’s to support me, but I think you just like ogling me when I lift weights.”

You swat his arm playfully, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “I do not!”

Max grins, delighted by this glimpse of your old dynamic. “Oh, you absolutely do. Not that I mind. I return the favor when you’re doing your yoga.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “What else do we do?”

“We cook together a lot,” Max says. “Or rather, you cook and I try not to burn the kitchen down. You’re teaching me, slowly but surely. We have this tradition of trying to recreate dishes from all the countries I race in.”

“That sounds fun,” you say, a wistful note in your voice. “Do we have a favorite?”

Max thinks for a moment. “There’s this amazing pasta dish we perfected after the Italian Grand Prix. You said it was better than sex.”

Your eyes widen. “I did not!”

Max laughs. “You absolutely did. Then you made me prove you wrong.”

You blush furiously, but you’re laughing too. “I can’t believe I said that!”

“Believe it,” Max says, grinning. “You’re full of surprises, schatje. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The word ’love’ hangs in the air between you. You grow quiet, your expression thoughtful.

“Max,” you say finally, “I want you to know ... I’m trying. To remember. To ... to feel what you feel.”

Max squeezes your hand. “I know you are. And it’s okay if it takes time. Or if ... if you never feel exactly the same way. We can build something new, if we need to.”

You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you. For understanding. For being patient.”

“Always,” Max says softly.

Just then, your parents return, breaking the intimate moment. Your mother smiles warmly at the sight of your joined hands.

“Everything okay in here?” She asks.

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Max was just telling me about our life together.”

Your father clears his throat. “Speaking of which, we should probably discuss arrangements for after your discharge tomorrow.”

You tense slightly, and Max can feel your grip on his hand tighten. “Right,” you say, your voice uncertain.

Max jumps in. “Y/N, remember what I said. Whatever you’re comfortable with. There’s no pressure.”

You nod gratefully. “I think ... I think I’d like to stay with my parents for a bit. If that’s okay?” You look at Max, worry in your eyes.

Max forces a smile, ignoring the pang in his heart. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need.”

Your mother steps forward. “Max, you’re welcome to visit anytime. We know how important you are to Y/N, even if she can’t remember everything right now.”

Max nods, grateful for their understanding. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

As the conversation turns to logistics of your discharge, Max finds his mind wandering. It’s not the outcome he’d hoped for, but he understands. You need time, space to heal and rediscover yourself. And he’ll be there, every step of the way, however you need him.

As visiting hours come to an end and Max prepares to leave, you call out to him.

“Max?”

He turns back. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for a moment, then say, “Thank you. For everything. And ... I’d like to hear more stories. About us. If that’s okay.”

Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. It’s not a declaration of love, not a magical recovery of memories. But it’s a start. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.

“Anytime,” he says softly. “I’ve got plenty of stories to tell.”

***

The Monaco apartment feels cavernous and empty as Max pushes open the door. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the soft padding of paws as Jimmy and Sassy come to greet him. They meow insistently, weaving between his legs, clearly searching for someone who isn’t there.

“I know,” Max murmurs, kneeling to scratch behind their ears. “I miss her too.”

He moves through the space, every corner filled with memories. Your favorite mug sits on the kitchen counter, lipstick stain still visible on the rim. A half-read book lies on the coffee table, your bookmark peeking out from the pages. Your scent lingers on the throw pillows on the couch.

Max sinks onto the sofa, and immediately, Jimmy jumps up beside him, headbutting his hand for attention. Sassy follows suit, curling up in his lap.

“At least I’ve got you two,” Max says softly, stroking their fur. “But it’s not the same, is it?”

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos of happier times. You and him on vacation, at race weekends, lazy Sundays at home. Your smile, so bright and full of love, now feels like a distant memory.

“Come on, Max,” he mutters to himself. “You can’t fall apart now. Y/N needs you to be strong.”

But in the quiet of the apartment, with only the cats for company, it’s hard to maintain that strength. For the first time since the accident, since the press conference, since leaving you at your parents’ house, Max allows himself to truly feel the weight of everything that’s happened.

A sob escapes him, then another. Soon, he’s crying in earnest, all the pent-up fear and frustration and loneliness pouring out. Jimmy and Sassy press closer, as if trying to comfort him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Max confesses to the empty room. “How do I help her remember? How do I make her fall in love with me again? What if ... what if she never does?”

The cats, of course, don’t answer. But their presence is comforting, a reminder that he’s not entirely alone.

As his tears subside, Max takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He needs to focus, to come up with a plan. You might not remember your life together, but he does. And he’s determined to help you rediscover it, piece by piece if necessary.

He stands, moving to the bookshelf where you keep photo albums. Maybe he could put together a scrapbook of your relationship, something tangible for you to look through. As he reaches for an album, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

His heart leaps when he sees your name on the screen. He answers immediately, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Hi,” you say, and he can hear a note of confusion in your voice. “Everything’s fine, I just ... this is going to sound weird, but I needed to ask you something.”

Max sits back down on the couch, curious. “Of course. What is it?”

You hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I’ve been having these ... cravings. For food I don’t remember ever eating before, much less liking. And I thought maybe ... maybe they mean something?”

Max’s pulse quickens. Could this be a sign of your memories returning? “What kind of food?” He asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Tomato soup,” you say. “And beef carpaccio. I know it sounds strange, but I can’t stop thinking about them. Do they ... do they mean anything to you?”

Max feels like his heart might burst out of his chest. “Y/N,” he says softly, “those are my favorite foods.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “I ... I didn’t know that.”

“The tomato soup is something my mom used to make for me when I was a kid,” Max explains, his voice thick with emotion. “And the carpaccio ... that was what we had on our first real date in Monaco.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t remember that,” you say finally, a note of frustration in your voice. “But I can almost ... almost taste it, you know? Like my body remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”

Max nods, even though you can’t see him. “That’s good, Y/N. That’s really good. It means the memories are still in there somewhere.”

“Maybe,” you say, sounding uncertain. “I just wish I could remember more. It’s so frustrating, having all these ... these echoes of a life I can’t quite grasp.”

“I know,” Max says soothingly. “But this is progress. We just have to be patient.”

You sigh. “You’re right. I just ... I feel bad, you know? You’re being so patient and understanding, and I can’t even remember our first date.”

Max’s heart aches at the sadness in your voice. “Hey, no. Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault. We’re in this together, remember?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Together.”

There’s another pause, and Max can almost picture you biting your lip, the way you do when you’re thinking hard about something.

“Max?” You say finally. “Can you ... can you tell me about our first date? The one with the carpaccio?”

A smile spreads across Max’s face. “Of course. It was about a week after we met at that charity gala. I was so nervous, I must have changed my shirt five times before picking you up.”

You laugh softly. “You, nervous? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it,” Max chuckles. “You had me completely flustered. Still do, if I’m honest.”

He launches into the story, describing how he’d taken you to a small, intimate restaurant overlooking the harbor. How you’d laughed at his attempts to pronounce the French dishes, how your eyes had lit up when you tasted the carpaccio.

“You said it was the best thing you’d ever eaten,” Max recalls. “But I barely tasted the food. I just couldn’t believe someone as amazing as you was interested in me.”

“Max ...” you start, your voice soft and a bit uncertain.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I don’t mean to push. I know this is all still ... complicated.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure him. “I like hearing these stories. They help, even if I can’t remember them myself yet.”

Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. “I’m glad. I’ve got plenty more where that came from, whenever you want to hear them.”

“I’d like that,” you say. “Maybe ... maybe next time we could do it in person? If you’re not too busy, I mean.”

“Y/N,” Max says seriously, “I’m never too busy for you. Just name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

You laugh softly. “Careful, I might hold you to that.”

“Please do,” Max says, meaning every word.

As you say your goodbyes, Max feels lighter than he has in days. It’s not a magical fix, not a sudden return of all your memories. But it’s progress. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.

An idea strikes him as he ends the call. He quickly pulls up a food delivery app on his phone, searching for restaurants near your parents’ house. Finding one that offers both tomato soup and beef carpaccio, he places an order, adding a note.

A taste of our memories. Hope this helps satisfy those cravings - Max

As he completes the order, Max feels a surge of hope. It’s a small gesture, but maybe it will help trigger more memories. Or at the very least, it will show you that he’s thinking of you, that he’s here for you in whatever way you need.

He looks around the apartment, seeing it with new eyes. Yes, it’s empty without you here. But it’s not a sad emptiness anymore. It’s a space waiting to be filled again, with new memories alongside the old.

Max scratches Jimmy and Sassy behind the ears. “What do you think, guys? Should we start planning how to win your mom’s heart all over again?”

The cats purr in response, and Max chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Even if you can’t remember everything yet, your body remembers. Your heart remembers.

And Max is determined to help you rediscover every beautiful moment of your life together, one memory at a time. Starting with a bowl of tomato soup and a plate of beef carpaccio.

***

The shrill ring of his phone jolts Max awake. He fumbles for it in the darkness, heart racing as he sees the caller ID: your mother.

“Hello?” He answers, voice thick with sleep but mind rapidly clearing.

“Max, I’m so sorry to wake you,” your mother’s voice comes through, tense and worried. “It’s Y/N. She woke up about an hour ago and she’s ... she’s not okay.”

Max is already out of bed, fumbling for clothes. “What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” your mother assures him quickly. “She’s just ... she’s crying and she keeps saying she needs you. We can’t calm her down. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” Max says, pulling on a shirt haphazardly. “I’m on my way. Can you put her on the phone?”

There’s a rustling sound, then your voice comes through, small and broken. “Max?”

His heart clenches at the pain in your voice. “Y/N, I’m here. What’s wrong, liefje?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. “I had this dream and now everything hurts and I can’t ... I can’t remember but I know I need you. Please, Max. I need you here.”

“I’m coming,” Max promises, already dialing his pilot with his other phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Please hurry.”

As the call ends, Max is already rushing out the door, barely remembering to grab his wallet and keys. He calls his pilot as he takes the stairs two at a time, not willing to wait for the elevator.

“Frank, I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We’re flying to-” he rattles off the name of your parents’ hometown. “How fast can we be in the air?”

“Mr. Verstappen, it’s the middle of the night,” Frank starts, but Max cuts him off.

“I know what time it is. This is an emergency. How soon?”

There’s a pause, then Frank sighs. “Give me 30 minutes. I’ll call the crew.”

“Make it 20,” Max insists. “I’ll double your rate.”

“We’ll be ready,” Frank assures him.

Max ends the call as he reaches his car, peeling out of the parking garage with a screech of tires. His mind races as fast as the car, worry for you overwhelming everything else.

What could have triggered this? You’d been doing better, or so he thought. The memory of food had seemed like progress. But now ...

He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the road. Getting to you safely is what matters now. Everything else can wait.

Max makes it to the airport in record time, barely bothering to park properly before he’s sprinting towards his private jet. Frank meets him at the stairs.

“We’re fueled and ready,” he says. “Weather looks clear, we should have a smooth flight.”

“Good,” Max nods, already climbing the stairs. “Let’s go.”

As the jet takes off, Max finds himself unable to sit still. He paces the cabin, checking his phone every few seconds even though he knows there’s no signal at this altitude.

The flight attendant approaches cautiously. “Mr. Verstappen? Can I get you anything?”

Max shakes his head, then reconsiders. “Actually, yes. Coffee. Strongest you’ve got.”

She nods, retreating to the galley. Max resumes his pacing, his mind a whirlwind of worry and speculation.

What if you’d remembered something traumatic? What if this setback undid all the progress you’d made? What if ...

He forces himself to stop that line of thinking. Catastrophizing won’t help anyone, least of all you.

The flight seems to take an eternity. As soon as they land, he’s out of his seat, barely waiting for the stairs to fully deploy before he’s racing down them.

A car is waiting, arranged by his ever-efficient team. Max barely registers the driver’s greeting as he slides into the backseat.

He recites the address tersely. “As fast as you can.”

The drive is a blur of streetlights and quiet suburban roads. Max’s leg bounces nervously, his hands clenched into fists.

Finally, mercifully, they pull up to the familiar house. Max is out of the car before it fully stops, racing up the front steps.

Your father opens the door before he can knock. “Thank God you’re here,” he says, ushering Max inside. “She’s upstairs.”

Max takes the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. He can hear muffled sobs coming from your old bedroom.

He pauses at the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then he knocks softly. “Y/N? It’s me. It’s Max.”

The sobs quieten slightly. “Max?” Your voice comes through, small and uncertain.

“Can I come in?”

There’s a pause, then: “Please.”

Max opens the door slowly. The room is dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting long shadows. You’re huddled on the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, eyes red and puffy from crying.

The sight of you so distressed nearly breaks him. In two long strides, he’s at your side.

“I’m here,” he says softly. “I’m right here.”

You look up at him, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Max,” you whisper, and then you’re launching yourself into his arms.

Max catches you, holding you close as you sob into his chest. He strokes your hair, murmuring soothing words.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Gradually, your sobs subside, replaced by hiccuping breaths. Max continues to hold you, rocking slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently.

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I had this dream,” you start, your voice hoarse. “It was so vivid. We were ... we were in a car, I think. And there was a crash and I couldn’t ... I couldn’t reach you.”

Max’s heart clenches. Is this a memory of your accident trying to surface?

“It felt so real,” you continue. “And when I woke up, I was so scared and confused. I couldn’t remember where I was or why you weren’t there. I just knew I needed you.”

“I’m here now,” Max says, cupping your face gently. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry for making you fly out in the middle of the night.”

Max shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. There’s something different there, something Max can’t quite identify.

“Max,” you say slowly, “I think ... I think I remembered something.”

His breath catches. “What did you remember?”

You furrow your brow, concentrating. “It’s not clear. Just ... feelings, mostly. But when you walked in, when you held me ... it felt familiar. Safe. Like ... like coming home.”

Max feels hope bloom in his chest. “That’s good, schatje. That’s really good. It means the memories are still there, even if they’re hard to reach right now.”

You nod, then yawn widely. The emotional toll of the night is clearly catching up with you.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Max says, moving to stand up.

But you grab his hand, holding him in place. “Will you ... will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

Max’s heart swells. “Of course. As long as you need.”

You scoot over, making room for him on the bed. Max kicks off his shoes and lies down next to you, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

But you close that distance, curling into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like the accident never happened.

“Tell me a story,” you mumble, already half-asleep. “About us.”

Max smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Okay. How about the time we tried to teach Jimmy and Sassy to swim?”

You make a soft sound of agreement, nuzzling closer.

As Max recounts the tale of your misadventures with the cats and a kiddie pool, he feels you relax against him, your breathing evening out.

He continues the story even after he’s sure you’re asleep, partly out of habit, partly because he’s not ready for this moment to end.

Eventually, he falls silent, just listening to your steady breathing. He knows he should leave, go sleep in the guest room or on the couch. But he can’t bring himself to move, to break this fragile peace.

Just a few more minutes, he tells himself. Just a little longer.

Before he knows it, sunlight is streaming through the windows. Max blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. Then he feels you stir against him, and everything comes rushing back.

You lift your head, looking up at him with sleep-clouded eyes. For a moment, just a moment, Max sees recognition there. The look you used to give him every morning.

But then you blink, and it’s gone, replaced by confusion, then embarrassment.

“Oh God,” you mutter, sitting up quickly. “Max, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”

Max sits up too, trying to ignore the ache in his heart at the loss of contact. “It’s okay. I wanted to be here.”

You run a hand through your hair, not meeting his eyes. “Last night ... it’s all a bit fuzzy. Did I ... did I say anything? About remembering?”

Max nods slowly. “You said being with me felt familiar. Like coming home.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your hands. “I wish I could remember more,” you say finally, your voice small. “It’s all still so ... jumbled.”

Max reaches out, then stops himself, unsure if the touch would be welcome. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.”

You look up at him then, a small smile on your face. “Together,” you repeat. “I like the sound of that.”

There’s a soft knock at the door, and your mother pokes her head in. “Oh good, you’re both awake. Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

As you both stand to head downstairs, Max feels a mix of emotions. Disappointment that the night didn’t lead to a magical recovery of your memories. Hope at the small signs of progress. And an overwhelming sense of love for you, memory or no memory.

He knows the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But as he watches you smile at something your mother says, he feels more certain than ever that it’s a road worth traveling.

Because even if you can’t remember all of your history together, you’re still you. Still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll spend every day helping you rediscover that love, one memory at a time.

***

The rhythmic clanging of weights fills the air as Max pushes through another set of bench presses. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles straining with each repetition. Rupert stands nearby, counting softly and offering encouragement.

“Nine ... ten ... good, Max. One more set and we’ll move on.”

The sharp ring of Max’s phone cuts through the gym’s atmosphere. Max grunts, arms shaking as he finishes his reps.

“Can you grab that, Rupert? Might be important.”

Rupert nods, retrieving the phone from Max’s gym bag. “It’s Y/N’s parents,” he says, eyebrows raised.

Max’s heart skips a beat. “Put it on speaker,” he says quickly, sitting up on the bench.

Rupert answers the call, holding the phone out between them. “Hello? This is Rupert, Max’s trainer. You’re on speaker.”

“Oh, hello Rupert,” comes the familiar voice of your mother. “Is Max there? We have some news.”

“I’m here,” Max says, leaning closer to the phone. “What’s going on? Is Y/N okay?”

There’s a pause, and Max feels his anxiety spike. Then, your father’s voice comes through, barely containing his excitement.

“Max, it’s ... it’s incredible. Y/N says she can remember. Not everything, but ... a lot. She woke up this morning and it was like a flood of memories just came back to her.”

The words hit Max like a physical force. He stands abruptly, forgetting the weight still balanced precariously on his legs. It crashes to the floor with a deafening clang, missing Rupert’s foot by mere inches.

“Whoa!” Rupert yelps, jumping back. “Easy there, Max!”

But Max barely notices. His entire world has narrowed to the voice coming from the phone. “She ... she remembers? Are you sure? How much does she remember?”

Your mother’s voice comes back on. “It’s still patchy, but she remembers you, Max. She remembers your life together, your home in Monaco. She’s been talking about the cats all morning.”

Max feels his knees go weak. He sits back down heavily on the bench, his head spinning. “Can I ... can I talk to her?”

“I’m afraid she’s with the doctors right now,” your father explains. “They want to run some tests, make sure everything’s okay. But she’s been asking for you. We thought you’d want to know right away.”

Max nods, then remembers they can’t see him. “Yes, of course. Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll take the jet, I can be there in”

“Actually,” your mother interrupts, “Y/N has been asking to come home. To Monaco. She says she misses you, and the cats, and ... well, her life with you.”

Max feels a lump form in his throat. “She wants to come home?” He repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

“If that’s alright with you,” your father adds quickly. “We understand if you need time to prepare, or if you think it’s too soon”

“No!” Max exclaims, perhaps a bit too loudly. He clears his throat. “I mean, no, it’s not too soon. It’s perfect. I can send the jet for her right away. If ... if that’s what she wants.”

He can hear the smile in your mother’s voice as she responds. “It is. She’s quite insistent, actually. Says she wants to sleep in her own bed.”

Max feels a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll make the arrangements right away. Can you have her ready to go in ... let’s say five hours?”

“We can do that,” your father confirms. “And Max? She’s ... she’s really excited to see you.”

Max swallows hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I can’t wait to see her too. Thank you both, for everything.”

As the call ends, Max looks up to see Rupert grinning at him. “So,” his trainer says, “I’m guessing our workout is over for the day?”

Max laughs, a sound of pure joy and relief. “Yeah, I’d say so. Sorry about almost crushing your foot.”

Rupert waves it off. “Small price to pay for good news like that. Go on, get out of here. Go prepare for Y/N’s homecoming.”

Max doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already dialing his pilot as he rushes towards the locker room. “Frank? I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We need to pick someone up ...”

That evening, Max is pacing the length of his — your — living room, unable to keep still. He’s tidied the already immaculate apartment three times, checked on the cats twice, and changed his shirt four times.

Max takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He sinks onto the couch, and immediately Jimmy jumps into his lap.

“Hey, buddy,” Max murmurs, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “Mama’s coming home. You excited?”

Jimmy purrs in response, kneading Max’s leg. Sassy, not to be left out, appears from nowhere and curls up next to them.

“Yeah, me too,” Max says softly. He looks around the apartment, memories flooding back. Your first night here together, nervous and excited about taking this step. Lazy Sunday mornings cuddled on this very couch. The time you tried to teach him to dance in the living room, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand.

The next hour crawls by at an agonizing pace. Max alternates between sitting rigidly on the couch and pacing the floor. He checks his phone obsessively, waiting for updates.

Finally, blessedly, his phone rings. It’s his pilot. “We’ve landed, boss. Y/N’s parents are helping her into the car now. Should be at your place in about 20 minutes.”

Max feels his heart rate double. “Thanks, Frank. Until next time.”

The next 20 minutes are the longest of Max’s life. He stands by the window, watching the street below, waiting for the familiar black SUV to appear.

When it finally does, Max feels like he might pass out. He watches as the car pulls up, as the driver gets out to open the back door. And then ... there you are.

You look tired, a bit pale, but to Max, you’ve never been more beautiful. You look up at the building, a soft smile playing on your lips. And then your eyes meet his through the window.

Max feels his breath catch in his throat. Because in that moment, he sees it. Recognition. Love. You’re really back.

He’s at the door in an instant, yanking it open just as you step off the elevator. For a moment, you both freeze, taking each other in.

“Max,” you whisper, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“Y/N,” he breathes, and then you’re in his arms.

He holds you tightly, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in. You cling to him just as fiercely, and he can feel your tears soaking through his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest. “I’m so sorry I forgot you.”

Max pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face. “Hey, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now. You’re home.”

You nod, a watery smile on your face. “I am. I remember, Max. Not everything, not yet. But I remember us. I remember loving you.”

Max feels tears spill down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you so much, liefje. God, I was so scared I’d lost you.”

You shake your head, your hands coming up to wipe away his tears. “Never. You could never lose me, Max Verstappen. Not really.”

And then you’re kissing, and it’s like coming home after a long, difficult journey. It’s familiar and new all at once, and Max never wants it to end.

A loud meow interrupts the moment. You break apart, laughing, to see Jimmy and Sassy winding around your feet, demanding attention.

“Oh, my babies!” You exclaim, kneeling down to scoop them up. “I missed you too!”

Max watches, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. This is what he’s been missing, what he’s been fighting for. You, here, in your home, with your little family.

As you straighten up, cats in arms, Max wraps an arm around your waist. “Welcome home,” he says softly.

You lean into him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “It’s good to be home.”

Max knows there’s still a long road ahead. Your memory isn’t fully restored, and there will be challenges to face. But right now, in this moment, with you in his arms, he knows everything will be okay.

Because you remembered. You came home. And together, you can face anything.

***

The neon lights of Las Vegas blur into streaks of color as Max races through the city streets, his Red Bull car a blur of blue and red and yellow. The roar of the engine fills his ears, but it can’t drown out the beating of his own heart. This race feels different, more important than any he’s ever driven before.

As he navigates a tight corner, Max’s mind flashes back to the conversation that led him here...

“Max, you need to go back,” you had said, your voice gentle but firm. “Racing is part of who you are. I’m better now, and I want to see you out there doing what you love.”

Max had shaken his head, pulling you closer on the couch. “But what if something happens? What if you need me?”

You had laughed, a sound that still made his heart skip a beat. “I’ll always need you, silly. But I don’t need you hovering over me 24/7. Plus,” you added with a mischievous grin, “I miss seeing you in that race suit.”

Now, as he pushes the car to its limits, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. He’s not just racing for himself anymore, or for the team. He’s racing for you, to make you proud, to show you that your faith in him wasn’t misplaced.

“Max, you’re pulling away,” GP’s voice crackles through the radio. “Gap to P2 is now 3.5 seconds. Keep this up, mate.”

Max grunts in acknowledgment, too focused to form words. He knows you’re watching from the garage, probably biting your nails like you always do during his races. The thought makes him smile behind his helmet.

Lap after lap, Max maintains his lead. The famous Las Vegas Strip becomes a blur of light and shadow as he speeds past the iconic hotels and casinos. In the back of his mind, he remembers your excitement when you found out about this race.

“Vegas, Max! It’s going to be incredible. Promise me we’ll stay a few extra days after the race?”

He had promised, of course. He’d promise you the moon if you asked for it.

As the final laps approach, Max’s concentration intensifies. He’s been in this position before, leading a race, victory within grasp. But it’s never felt quite like this.

“Two laps to go,” GP informs him. “You’ve got this. Just bring it home.”

Max takes a deep breath, visualizing the remaining track in his mind. He can almost hear your voice, the way you’d whisper “You’ve got this” before every race, a private moment just for the two of you amidst the pre-race chaos.

The last lap arrives, and Max is in the zone. Every turn, every straight, every gear change is perfect. As he rounds the final corner, the chequered flag comes into view.

“Yes!” Max shouts as he crosses the finish line, pumping his fist in the air. The team erupts in cheers over the radio, but Max is waiting for one particular voice.

“Brilliant drive, Max!” GP exclaims. “Absolute masterclass. How does it feel to be back on the top step?”

Max takes a moment to catch his breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. When he speaks, his voice is thick with feeling.

“It feels ... it feels incredible,” he says. “But this win, it’s not for me. It’s for Y/N.”

He can hear the surprise and emotion in GP’s voice as he responds. “That’s beautiful. I’m sure she’s over the moon right now.”

As Max begins his cool-down lap, he continues, knowing his words are being broadcast to millions around the world, but speaking only to you.

“Y/N, liefje, this one’s for you. For your strength, your courage, your unwavering support. You pushed me to come back even when I wanted to stay home with you. You believed in me when I doubted myself. This victory is yours as much as it’s mine.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “I love you, Y/N. More than any trophy, any championship. You’re my biggest win.”

As he pulls into parc fermé, Max can see the team gathered, ready to celebrate. But his eyes scan the crowd, looking for only one person.

And there you are, pushing through the throng of mechanics and officials. Your eyes are shining with tears, but your smile is radiant.

Max practically leaps out of the car, not even bothering with his helmet. He meets you halfway, sweeping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“You did it!” You exclaim, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh Max, I’m so proud of you!”

Max sets you down but doesn’t let go, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, we did it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “This was all you, Max. I just watched from the sidelines.”

“You’ve never been on the sidelines,” Max says firmly. “You’re the reason I’m here. The reason I push myself to be better, on and off the track.”

Before you can respond, the team descends upon them, whooping and cheering. Max is pulled away for the podium ceremony, but his eyes never leave you.

The champagne flows, the anthems play, but it all feels like a blur to Max. All he can think about is getting back to you, celebrating properly.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of photos and interviews, Max is able to escape back to the team’s hospitality area. You’re waiting for him, a glass of champagne in hand and a proud smile on your face.

“There’s my champion,” you say softly as he approaches.

Max pulls you close, not caring who might be watching. “I meant what I said on the radio,” he murmurs. “This win is yours.”

You laugh, a sound that still makes his heart soar. “Well, in that case, I guess I should start preparing my acceptance speech for the Prize Giving Ceremony.”

Max grins, playing along. “Oh yeah? And what would this speech entail?”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Let’s see … I’d like to thank the academy, and of course, my incredibly handsome and talented boyfriend, without whom none of this would be possible ...”

Max laughs, feeling lighter than he has in months. “Handsome and talented, huh? I like the sound of that.”

You smack his arm playfully. “Don’t let it go to your head, Verstappen. I’ve seen you first thing in the morning, remember?”

“Hey, I thought you said I was cute when I’m all sleepy and rumpled,” Max protests.

“Cute, yes. Handsome is a stretch,” you tease.

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. And after I just dedicated my win to you and everything.”

You soften, reaching up to cup his face. “It was beautiful, Max. Really. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Max turns serious, covering your hand with his own. “You existed. That’s more than enough.”

You stand there for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, the celebration continuing around you unnoticed.

Finally, Max breaks the silence. “So, about that promise to stay a few extra days in Vegas ...”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you remembered! I was hoping you would.”

Max grins. “Of course I remembered. I was thinking... maybe we could make it a bit more special than just a few extra days?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

Max takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, but standing here with you, flush with victory and love, it feels right.

“Well,” he says slowly, reaching into his pocket, “I was thinking maybe we could celebrate our engagement.”

Your eyes widen as Max drops to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box. The noise of the celebration fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“Y/N,” Max begins, his voice shaky but determined, “these past few months have been the hardest of my life. But they’ve also shown me, without a doubt, that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Through good times and bad, wins and losses, I want you by my side.”

He opens the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

You gasp, tears filling your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Max fears he’s misjudged, moved too fast. But then you’re nodding, a radiant smile breaking through the tears.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, Max. A thousand times yes.”

Max slips the ring onto your finger with trembling hands, then stands to pull you into a passionate kiss. The team, finally noticing what’s happening, erupts into cheers and applause.

As you break apart, breathless and giddy, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you. More than I ever thought possible.”

You beam up at him, your eyes shining with happiness. “I love you too. Always and forever.”

As the team swarms around them, offering congratulations and calling for more champagne, Max holds you close. This, he realizes, is his true victory. Not the race win, not the trophies or the championships. But this moment, with you in his arms, promising a future together.

***

Emma settles into her favorite armchair, a steaming mug of tea on the side table and Max Verstappen’s newly released autobiography in her hands. As a long-time fan of Formula 1 and Max in particular, she’s been eagerly anticipating this book.

She flips through the early chapters, smiling at familiar stories of Max’s rise through the ranks of motorsport. But it’s the chapter titled “The Race of My Life” that catches her attention. This, she knows, is where Max will finally open up about the period when he stepped away from racing — a time that had puzzled and worried fans.

As Emma begins reading, she’s immediately struck by the raw emotion in Max’s words.

I thought I knew what pressure was. The weight of expectations, the split-second decisions that could mean victory or defeat. But nothing in my racing career could have prepared me for the day I walked into that hospital room and saw the love of my life look at me without a hint of recognition.

Emma feels a lump form in her throat. She remembers the press conference where Max had revealed the reason for his absence, but this ... this is different. This is Max laying bare his soul in a way she’s never seen before.

In that moment, I realized that all the trophies, all the victories, all the adoration from fans — none of it mattered. The true test of my life wasn’t on any track. It was right there, in that sterile hospital room, facing the possibility of losing the one person who saw me not as Max Verstappen the driver, but just as Max.

Emma finds herself blinking back tears. She’s always admired Max for his skill on the track, his determination, his fierce competitiveness. But this vulnerability, this raw honesty, shows a side of him she never knew existed.

The chapter continues, detailing the days and weeks following the accident. Max describes the pain of seeing you struggle to remember, the hope that would flare with each small recognition, and the crushing disappointment when progress stalled.

I’ve faced some of the best drivers in the world, pushed myself to the absolute limit of human capability. But nothing — nothing — has ever been as challenging as sitting by her bedside, day after day, telling her stories of our life together and seeing no spark of remembrance in her eyes. It was like watching the person I loved most in the world slip away, inch by inch, and being powerless to stop it.

Emma has to pause her reading, overwhelmed by the emotion. She tries to imagine what it must have been like for Max, known for his control and precision on the track, to face a situation where he had no control at all.

As she continues reading, she’s struck by Max’s honesty about his own struggles during this time:

There were moments — dark, terrible moments — when I wondered if it would be easier to walk away. To accept that the woman I loved was gone, replaced by this stranger who wore her face but didn’t know my heart. The guilt I felt for even thinking such thoughts nearly crushed me. But I realized that true love, real love, isn’t just about the easy times. It’s about choosing to stay, to fight, even when every instinct is screaming at you to run.

Emma finds herself nodding, moved by Max’s profound realization. She remembers following his career, cheering his victories, sympathizing with his defeats. But this … this feels like she’s truly seeing the man behind the racer for the first time.

The chapter takes a turn as Max describes the day you started to remember:

When she looked at me that day, really looked at me, and I saw recognition in her eyes — it was like winning every championship, every race, all at once. No podium celebration could ever compare to the joy of hearing her say my name, of feeling her arms around me, knowing that she remembered us, our love, our life together.

Emma feels tears rolling down her cheeks now, unashamed. She’s always been moved by stories of love and perseverance, but knowing this is real, that it happened to someone she’s admired for so long, makes it all the more powerful.

As the chapter nears its end, Max reflects on how this experience changed him:

I returned to racing eventually, but I was never the same driver … or the same man. I had faced my greatest fear and come out the other side. I had learned that there are things more precious than any trophy, more thrilling than any race. I learned the true meaning of love, of commitment, of fighting for what really matters in life.

Emma closes the book, needing a moment to process everything she’s read. She feels like she’s seen a completely new side of Max Verstappen, one that goes far beyond the confident, sometimes brash young driver she remembers.

Picking up her phone, she opens Twitter, scrolling through reactions to the book. It seems she’s not alone in her emotional response. Fans and fellow drivers alike are sharing their thoughts.

Just finished @Max33Verstappen’s book. I’m in tears. What an incredible story of love and perseverance ❤️

Always respected Max as a driver, but this book shows what a truly remarkable person he is.

Emma adds her own tweet to the mix.

Thank you, @Max33Verstappen, for sharing your story. You’ve shown us that the greatest victories in life often happen off the track 🥺

She picks up the book again, turning to the final pages of the chapter. Max’s closing words resonate deeply.

In the end, life isn’t about the races you win or the records you break. It’s about the people you love, the bonds you forge, the differences you make. My greatest achievement isn’t any trophy or title. It’s the life I’ve built with her, the love we’ve nurtured through good times and bad. That’s my true legacy, and it’s one that will last far beyond when the chequered flag last waves for me.

[fcthots]

You’re sitting on the couch of your shared apartment when Jason climbs in through the window, finally done with patrol. His entrance makes you look up from your phone. He reaches up and tugs his helmet off. His hair looks a little funny, but it also made him look good. He didn’t need the ego boost though. You can tell he had an eventful patrol by the smile on his face.

He walks towards you and drops his hand onto your arm. He lets it slide down until his hand rests on yours. He pulls your hand to his lips in greeting. “Hey, princess.” He squeezes your hand before giving it back to you.

“How was patrol?” You watch as he strips off his outer layers of gear. The display never gets old.

“Good.” He laughs. “But I have got to tell you what happened. Red Robin, Tim, smacked into Red Robin, the restaurant. It was completely by accident too. I begged Babs to get me the camera footage. She’s searching as we speak.”

You laugh at his enthusiasm and the way he laughed before he even finished the story. You ask him questions, he answers them. It continues until he goes to take his shower.

You turn back to your phone. This is where it all goes wrong, because you see a post that ruins your day. It reads, “the first time most men receive flowers is at their funeral.”

Evil. Illegal. Unacceptable. Had you really never given Jason flowers before? You swore you did but your memory came up empty. By the time you finished your existential flower crisis, Jason finished showering and called you to bed. He’s exhausted and falls asleep quickly. You, however, stay awake and plan. You will get the love of your life flowers. You will not let the first time he receives flowers to be at his funeral. You fall asleep trying to decide what flowers he would like best.

You wake up before him, getting up as gently as possible. If he wakes up with you, he’ll trap you for cuddles in his huge beefy inescapable arms, so you must be careful. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if you didn’t know Jason as well as you do.

You get ready as silently and as quickly as possible before sliding out the door. The nearest flower shop isn’t too far. You make it there and back in 30 minutes, and most of that time was spent deciding what flowers you wanted to get Jason.

You walk home with a bouquet of simple red roses with some baby’s breath sprinkled in. It’s wrapped in black paper with a read bow, a color combination you’re sure he’ll love.

You walk home a little slower, careful not to disturb the flowers cradled in your arms. The long walk leaves you to your thoughts. You wonder how Jason will react.

And then you get worried. What if he thinks it’s weird? Jason has never called you weird unaffectionately before, but what if this is what does it? Or, even worse, what if he pretends to like them but actually thinks it’s weird? You spiral a little and panic. You eventually walk head first into your door on muscle memory.

You make sure the flowers are okay before opening the door. You hide the bouquet behind your back. To your surprise, Jason is awake and in the kitchen. His morning voice greets you with a smile. “Did you just walk into the door?”

Your worry begins to fade and a smile crawls its way onto your face. “Shut up.”

He laughs and the sound makes you blush. You love him. “You did!”

“And to think I was out getting you a present.” You shake your head.

“You got me a present?” He looks a like an excited puppy.

“I got my loving boyfriend a present. Let me know if you see him.” You pretend as if you’re about to walk out.

Jason rushes over to you smiling. “Wait, no! He’s right here! Please! I want my present!”

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you thrust the flowers at him. He takes them from you, his smile softening. “Do you like them?”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “What are these for? They’re beautiful. I love them.” You watch him feel the petals with a gentle smile that he can’t seem to help.

You tell him about the post you saw, and how you couldn’t let the first time he got flowers be at his funeral. He pauses. “Babe. I really love the flowers. Seriously. Best gift ever. But um. The first time I got flowers was at my funeral.” He watches your face.

You lift a hand and cover your mouth. “Oh my god.” He laughs and uses one had to hug to you to his chest.

“I really love the sentiment! It means a lot! I love them so much!” He smiles into your hair as you wrap your arms around him.

“That’s why I remember buying you flowers before but couldn’t remember giving them to you. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t. This was so sweet, seriously. If it wasn’t the ass crack of dawn, I would cry.”

You laugh. “It’s past noon.”

He huffs. “Same thing. We were up until like 4.”

“This is true,” you say. “I still feel so bad though. I can’t believe I forgot you had a funeral already.”

He laughs and you can feel it in his chest. “The idea was really sweet, princess. I love the flowers. You just made my day. Nay, my week.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you running into the door really sealed the deal.”

You push on his chest. “I hate you.”

[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet @bethanysnow

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[katsu28]

through the years

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: a few glimpses into lando's journey of being in love with his best friend's sister. (5.9k) see request here!

a/n: r is three years older than max and lando. this has been a work in progress for months and was truly so so fun to write <3

sixteen

Lando’s tucking his helmet back into its protective case when he hears someone say your name.

He straightens up like he’s been electrocuted, nearly hitting his head on the shelf above him at how fast he looks up. If he had ears like a dog, they’d be perked. 

His eyes land on you chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

See, Lando has a massive crush on you, probably since before he knew what a crush was. All he knows is that you’re a few years older, his best friend’s sister, and the most perfect person he’s ever known. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen in love with you the moment he met you at one of Max’s and his races. 

But at only sixteen (nearly seventeen) years old, did he even know what love felt like?

Not really, but if Lando was being completely honest, he imagines it was the same feeling he got whenever he climbed into a kart—thrilling, exciting, a little bit of fear that he might puke. 

He hasn’t seen you in a while though. You’ve been off at university for a year now, somewhere far off, but Max had said something (read: complained) about you being home for summer break.

Lando thinks he might be more happy about it than your own brother is. 

“Hey!” Lando calls, raising a hand in greeting. You lift your sunglasses at the sound of another voice, squinting in the bright sunlight to see who’s shouting at you now. When your eyes land on him, you smile, waving back. Lando grins, one that only grows bigger as you start to make your way over to him. 

“Looked good out there today, Lan. You’re getting pretty quick on the straights,” You say on approach.

He’s had a little bit of a growth spurt this past year, so he’s no longer craning his neck to look at you, but you’ve still got quite a bit of height on him as you reach out to ruffle his hair playfully. 

“Thanks! Have you, erm, have you been here the whole time?” Lando’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, mortifying him, but luckily you don’t seem to notice. You’re too occupied looking around the track for something, or someone. 

“Nah, I just got here, like twenty minutes ago? Mum told me to give Max a lift home.” You shrug. Lando fights the urge to let out a relieved sigh. Thank god you weren’t here to see him nearly spin out into the gravel on the last corner. That would’ve been embarrassing. “Have you seen him, by the way? I need to wring his neck.” 

A surprised honk of laughter splutters from Lando’s mouth. “What did he do now?” 

“Little shit broke one of mum’s good dinner plates and blamed it on me! S’why I’m here playing chauffeur,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Grounded during summer holidays, can you believe it? I’m basically Max’s personal shuttle, so it looks like you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me for a while. Nightmare, innit?” 

“Not really. It’d be nice to see you around more again.” 

“You’re sweet, Lan. The punishment might be worth it to see your cute face all the time.” You wink at him, pinching his cheek gently. 

He knows you don’t mean it in the way he wants you to mean it. You still see him as just your little brother’s best friend, still a kid. But he’s older now, more mature. His voice is starting to drop, and he’s going places in his racing career by this point. He wonders if you know he’s joining McLaren’s Young Driver Programme next year. He wonders if you’d be impressed by it. 

“Hang on. I’ve got to take this, it’s my mum. Probably demanding I stop off at the shops on the way home,” You sigh, holding up your buzzing phone. “Do me a favor, be a darling and go find my idiot brother, would you?” You answered the call before he could nod, walking a ways away to talk to your mum. 

Lando remains rooted in place, watching you pace back and forth. 

“What’re you looking at?” Max pops up next to him out of the blue, bumping his shoulder rather roughly. It doesn’t phase him though, because he’s used to Max’s antics at this point. 

Instead, he sighs. “D’you think she’d ever like me?” 

“Who?” 

Lando nods his head in your direction, looking rather wistful. Max follows his friend’s line of sight until his gaze lands on you, on the phone, looking less than pleased. 

“Are you fucking with me? Please tell me you’re fucking with me,” He asks, wrinkling his nose at Lando. Even though you’re three years older than him, Max was wildly overprotective over you. Lando shakes his head. He is most definitely serious. “Mate, that’s my sister.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“That’s disgusting.” 

Lando scoffs, giving Max a shove. “You’re disgusting.” 

“So you’re telling me that every time you’ve asked me where she’s been, what she’s been up to, it’s ‘cause you fancy her?” 

“Maybe. Yeah. I think she’s amazing.” 

“I’m gonna throw up. I’m actually going to throw up, oh my god.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” Lando rolls his eyes, picking up his things. 

“You’re hot for my sister, how am I being dramatic? I think I’m being quite calm about this.” 

“It’s nothing, really. She probably won't ever see me as anything but a little kid.” 

“Oh, you never know. You’re getting bigger, mate. Stacking on the height, packing on the muscle.” He fakes two punches to Lando’s torso, grunting overdramatically when Lando pushes him away with another roll of his eyes. “Soon enough you won’t be able to keep the ladies off you, ya stud.” 

“Thanks? You do know we’re still talking about your sister, right?” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, still gross.” 

“Oi, Max. Let’s go or mum’ll have my head if we don’t get home by dinner,” You grumble, reappearing behind Max and shoving him upside the head. Your gaze softens when it turns on Lando. “Bye, Lan. See you soon.”

Lando manages to get out a goodbye without his voice cracking again, thank god. He wants to go in for a hug, because part of him thinks it might lift your spirits, but knows Max would never let him hear the end of it. So he just settles for a slightly awkward wave before you turn on your heel and head for the car. 

Max rolls his eyes. Then he smiles deviously, pointing at your retreating figure with one hand and Lando with the other, before smashing them both together, all while making overexaggerated kissy noises. He seems to have forgotten his previous disgust quite easily. 

“Fuck off!” Lando hisses, flipping off his friend. 

“I’ll leave you behind, Maximillian!” You warn, not even turning around to threaten your brother. Max rolls his eyes again, but doesn't hesitate in hurrying after you so you won't leave him stranded at the track. 

Lando manages to catch your eye once as you’re pulling out of the car park and he waves again, trying but probably failing to stifle the goofy grin spreading across his face at the wave you gave him back. 

God, he’s so down bad for you. 

That year, however, the months went on, Lando found himself noticing that you came home less and less often, and not even for school breaks the following year. Max wouldn’t talk about it, but it was obvious it was somewhat of a sore subject, so Lando never pushed.

He’d always wondered what happened, but soon enough, his life became far too hectic to sit around thinking about all the what if’s and the why not’s. All he could do was hope you were doing okay. 

-------

twenty

It’s hard to believe Max is turning twenty-one.

So will Lando, later in the year, but for now he remains a very youthful looking twenty years old. 

Max invites a handful of people to a quiet dinner, nothing too flashy, nothing too fancy. Just a nice dinner with close friends and good food. His birthday sits right between race weeks, so Lando is fortunate enough to be able to carve out an evening for his best friend. 

Now he’s sitting at the end of a long table, sipping a lemon sparkling water as the first few of their friends start to trickle in. He’d arrived unfashionably early under the guise of offering to help Max iron out last minute details, set up, things like that.

In reality, the reason why he’d turned up so early was you. 

Lando doesn’t know if Max invited you, and if he did, he doesn’t know if you’d actually come. But on the off chance that you do choose to make an appearance, Lando wants to be the first one to see you. 

Naturally, he spots you the second you walk in, and he’s instantly transported back to when he was an awkward teenager, pathetically pining over his best friend’s sister with absolutely no shot.

Hell, he’s still pining over you. He thought whatever feelings he had for you would’ve faded over the years, but one look at you and everything comes rushing back. 

He thought he’d prepared himself for this, for seeing you again, but one thing that rises above all the other thoughts flooding his brain is that he’s not over you. Not by a long shot. 

He watches you make your way over to your brother and hug him. You lean in close to say something into his ear, and suddenly you’re both looking directly at him.

Lando startles, nearly spilling his drink, but he manages to compose himself quickly. That swoopy feeling he used to get whenever you made your way over to him is back in full swing again. He scrambles to his feet. 

“Hey, Lan!” You greet him keenly, wrapping him in a warm hug. Your perfume washes over him as you do, and he fights the urge to sigh happily. You still wear the same one you always did. He remembers because he’d more or less conditioned himself to associate the nice scent with you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Lando chuckles breathlessly, praying you’re not able to feel how fast his heart is beating through his shirt. “Too long.” 

You pull away, holding him at arms’ length, studying him with bright eyes. “You’re taller than me now.” 

“I’d hope so. M’not sixteen anymore.” 

“No, you’re not. You look good though, ” You say. You look like you mean it truthfully. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Been better, but I’m…getting by, all things considered.” You shrug, sliding into the chair next to him.

Both of you swing sideways to face each other at the same time, knees knocking into each other as you do. You share an apologetic smile. Your hand blankets his where it rests on the table, squeezing a few times as your eyes light up with excitement. 

You aren’t aware of just how much that one little move affects Lando. 

“But what about you, McLaren’s newest Formula One driver? That’s so amazing. Seriously. I’m proud of you.”  

He’s heard the compliment loads during his rookie year, but hearing it come from you makes his cheeks flush pink. He can feel the comfort of your words spreading from his face into his chest, tendrils of warmth wrapping around his rib cage. You’re proud of him, and it feels like he’s just won the world championship. 

“Thank you,” He squeaks. 

“I always knew you’d do great things.” 

“You’ve been keeping up with my career?” 

“‘Course I have,” You say warmly, nodding like it’s obvious. “It’s not everyday you can say you’ve known one of the up and coming talents of Formula 1 since you were kids.” 

“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” 

“You, yeah. Me…well, let’s just say I’m still trying to figure things out.” 

“You’re doing the best you can, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that be all that matters?” 

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Lan. I needed to hear that.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you, and Lando feels the need to break it. 

“Y’know, I didn't know if you’d come. Since…y’know, whatever’s been going on all this time.” He doesn’t mean to prod, doesn’t mean it as anything other than him drawing a huge blank about why you haven’t been around. 

Your expression still grows somber, brows creasing ever so slightly. “Max hasn’t told you anything?” 

“Seemed like a sore subject, so I never pushed.” 

“You must have a lot of questions then.” You murmur, tracing an idle finger over the pristine white table cloth. “About why I’ve been basically nonexistent for years.” 

“I don't need to know. You’re here now, that's all that matters.” 

“Y’know, you’ve always been so thoughtful, Lando. When we were all kids and Max was being…well, Max, you were always looking out for me, even though you didn’t have to.” 

“I cared about you. Still do.” 

It’s true. Lando cares about you in more ways than one, in more ways than just your little brother’s best friend should, but it isn’t something that he can help. You’ve still got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“So sweet.” You smile, squeezing his hand appreciatively, and Lando feels like he’s just been shown a new purpose. He wants to be the one to make you smile like this all the time, something he’s known in his heart for years. “So, tell me more about you. What’s it like in the big leagues?” 

You wind up spending all night glued to each other’s side, filling one another in on what’s been going on in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Granted, it’s a bit more of him doing most of the talking with you on the listening end, but he gets the sense you’d rather have it that way. 

He’ll gladly talk for hours if it meant you looking at him with the pride in your eyes you’ve had the whole night. 

Eventually, the party rolls to an end, as all good nights unfortunately do. Lando wants to stay here, stay with you, but he can’t. He’s got an early morning and a day full of training tomorrow, so he’ll settle for walking you to your car after you’ve both said goodbye to Max. 

You’ve got your arm looped through his as you make your way out of the restaurant with the rest of the dinner guests. 

“This one’s me.” You jut your chin at the car coming up. If Lando isn’t mistaken, you almost sound kind of sad, but maybe he’s just looking too much into things because he doesn't want to leave. You leave his side, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Thank you for keeping me company all night, Lando. It was really nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise. I’ve…” He trails off into an airy chuckle, shoulders creeping towards his shoulders instinctively. For a moment, he wonders if he should even say anything. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” You say softly, giving him a small smile. Lando feels his chest tighten at the sincerity in your tone. Then you step forward and wrap your arms around his neck in a hug and suddenly he’s just about ready to melt as his arms slide around you to return the embrace. 

He isn’t expecting your lips against his cheek, or the way they linger a little longer than to be expected before you step away again. Heat blooms where you kiss him, zipping through his veins like the thrill of pushing the highest speed down the home straight towards the checkered flag. 

“Don’t forget about me when you get to be a big hot shot in the racing world,” You say, only slightly teasing. 

“Don’t think I could.” 

He watches you get into your car and drive away, hands in his pockets, wishing he was brave enough to tell you how he feels about you. Some other time, maybe. One day he’ll muster up the confidence to say something. 

-------

twenty four

No matter how many times Lando comes home to race at Silverstone, the feeling never goes away.

A mix of joy, pride, the unmistakable vice-like grip of anxiety. Lando is excited, no doubt, but all he wants to do is make his home crowd proud. His family is here, his friends are here. Everyone is counting on him to do something amazing.

He’s got a hundred things to do before he has to head down to the garage to gear up, a methodical mental checklist to get through in not a lot of time.

Buzzing with nervous energy, he paces the top level of the motorhome, amping himself up while also trying to calm himself down. He’s barely managed to eat anything all day, as evident by the basically untouched chicken wrap sitting on the table next to him. 

Sure, he’s raced at Silverstone before, but this is the first year he actually has a shot at winning the whole thing. The car has proved to be a speed demon, and he’s been killing it this season, but neither of those help his nerves. 

It makes his stomach twist more than anything. It’s one thing to not win because he doesn't have the facilities to do it, it's entirely worse to know he can win and still let everyone down. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Lando Norris.” 

He freezes at the unexpected voice. Your voice.

His mind flashes back to the last time he saw you, at Max’s birthday party. How you talked all night, and kissed him on the cheek before you parted ways. 

It’s been three years since then, and you’ve stayed in close touch with each other, but you haven’t seen each other in person since that night. It isn’t either of your faults—life got in the way and neither of yours lined up. Nonetheless, he’s grown closer to you these past few years than he ever has, which definitely doesn’t help the massive crush he still has on you. 

Part of him thinks he really needs to move on—he’s been in love with you for so many years he doesn’t even remember the exact number, but his feelings remain the same. Any relationship he’s tried to have, just to see if he could ever love someone else, has never lasted.

Lando thinks he might be stuck on you his whole life, if the entirety of his teenage years and first few of his young adult years have been any indication. 

He’s very prone to wanting things he can’t have, it seems. 

Lando gives his head a shake because it couldn’t be you. You couldn’t be here, because last he heard from Max, you were somewhere out of the country on a work trip and wouldn’t be able to make it to Silverstone for the race. It’s a bummer for sure, but Lando knows you would've come if you could. Max told him you sounded downright upset about it on your check in call earlier in the week to break the news. 

He turns slowly, hesitantly. Hopefully. His fingers tighten on the water bottle he’s got clutched in his hands. 

There you are, looking back at him like something straight out of his dreams. 

You’re older now, as he is too, but there’s something different about you. About how you hold yourself. Like you've finally settled into the person you were meant to be. It isn’t something he could’ve clocked in on through texts and grainy video calls, but he sees it now, clear as day. 

“Hi.” 

“You’re here,” He breathes, disbelieving. He isn’t able to stop himself from rushing forward, bringing you into a very tight, very excited hug that lifts you off your feet.

You let out a surprised noise at his enthusiasm, barely managing to hook an arm over around his shoulders so you wouldn’t go flailing as he spins you around.

He puts you down soon after, still beaming as he takes you in. “How are you here? I thought—Max said you were on a work trip!” 

“I asked him to keep it a secret,” You chuckle, spreading a palm across his chest to steady yourself. “Wanted to surprise you for your home race. Hope that’s okay?” 

“More than okay! It’s so good to see you again,” He insists, folding you into another, albeit much quicker hug. He holds you at arm's length right after. “You look really good.” 

“I feel good,” You say sincerely. “Think I’m finally getting the hang of this whole life thing.” 

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you for pushing through, sticking it out,” Lando murmurs, just as genuine. There’s nothing better than seeing you finally find a good place, happy with where you are and what you’re doing. It’s all he’s ever wanted for you. 

“Thank you. But oh my god, look at you!” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. You pinch his cheeks the same way you used to do, but the way you’re looking at him feels much different than before.

There’s something that isn’t quite the same, like something about what you think of him has changed. The thought burrows its way deeper into his brain when one hand slides down to his chest for a few beats.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit again, haven’t you?” 

He laughs, a little high pitched and a little breathless. “Yeah well, you know what they say about second puberty.” 

“Still got the same cute laugh though.” You smile at him brightly, and it's like the sun has just poked its way through the dreary British fog for the first time in ages. His heart does an involuntary tap dance against his ribcage. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry if I, like, disturbed your pre-race rituals or anything, I just wanted to pop in and say hi before things get crazy.” 

“No, no, I’m glad you did. I think I needed to see a familiar face. Between you and me, I’m kinda freaking out.” 

“Oh, Lan,” You sigh, squeezing his hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Hope so.” 

“You will,” You insist firmly. “Don’t think about the people, don’t think about the crowd. Just trust your gut, and drive like hell.” 

Lando didn’t know it before, but your words are exactly the thing he needs right now. He sighs deeply, letting his shoulders relax just the slightest bit. 

“Anyways, I better go. Max is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.” 

He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Yeah, I should—I probably need to get going as well.” 

“Good luck, be safe, all that. I’ll be the loudest one cheering you on.” 

Lando hears himself call out your name when you’re a few steps away from the door. You turn back to him, and he knows this is the moment. He’s about to do something he’s never had the balls to do before, never in the nine years he’s been in love with you. Only today, right here, he’s never felt more sure of himself. 

He’s trusting his gut. 

“Would you wanna grab a drink tonight? Dinner too, if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah, ‘course! I’ll text my brother, see if he’s free.” 

“No,” He blurts. You arch a surprised brow at his sudden outburst. “Sorry, I just—I meant like, maybe just the two of us.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments, and it feels like the longest couple seconds of his life. But then you nod, breaking into a big grin. “I’d really like that.”

Lando doesn’t want to get his hopes up in fear of possibly jinxing it, but it feels like maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance with you. After all these years, he’s no longer just a little kid to you, no longer just your little brother’s best friend.

The thought of that pumps him up better than a race in front of his home crowd ever could.

-------

twenty five

He’s done it. 

Lando's just won in Abu Dhabi, gotten his fourth win of his career—his fourth win of the season. McLaren has just won the constructor’s championship for the first time in twenty six years, and Lando’s been an instrumental part in making it happen. 

The moment he steps out onto the front of the car, hears the crowd cheering for him, he can barely even believe it. It doesn’t feel real at all. 

He wants to find you. He knows you’re here somewhere, probably with his family in the garage. He also knows he doesn’t have the time to find you, not until after he’s taken care of his post race duties. 

Lando doesn't see you until he returns to the pit lane in front of the McLaren garage.

The whole team is gathered there, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. He can feel the energy buzzing through the atmosphere, the pure excitement and joy of a long awaited championship not only for everyone here, but the whole team of papaya back at the factory too. 

This is their time as much as it is his, if not even more. They’re the reason he’s able to live this dream every single day, and for that, he’ll never be able to say enough thank yous. 

Instead, he’ll work even harder next season, keep pushing and honing his craft until he’s able to truly show his gratitude towards them. 

But for now, he’ll celebrate. After a long, grueling (but fulfilling) season, he’s earned that. 

He breaks into a jog towards the huddle, breaking into a face-splitting grin as he jumps into the team celebrations happily. Person after person clap him on the back on his way to his place beside the giant papaya sign, even after the team photo is taken and he gets doused by champagne from all sides. 

Lando feels like a million bucks. This feeling has been a long time coming, a long time needed. If he could bottle it up and save it forever, he would. 

There’s only one thing that could make this moment even better. 

He turns to the crowd behind the barriers, searching, searching, searching for his loved ones until— 

There you are, standing with his family just as he’d thought you’d be, cheering so hard he thinks you might even be crying. 

Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. You’ve both been busy the past few weeks, him with this triple header and you with your job. You’d barely made it to this race, but he’s happy you’re here. Even happier you were here to see him win. 

He makes his way towards you all, doling out hugs to everyone, not able to wipe the smile from his face as he chats with each of them. 

His parents, his sister, and finally…you. 

You’re beaming just as big as he is when he stops in front of you, flinging your arms around his neck in the tightest hug. He lets out a sigh of content, lifting you off your feet a bit in a hug just as tight, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he does so. 

“Hi, baby,” He breathes, running his hands down from your shoulders to your forearms as soon as he puts you down again. “What’d you think?” 

“What do I think?” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. “I think you did amazing! I think I’ve cried, like, four times already since the race ended, honestly.” 

He laughs, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “I made you cry?” 

“Yeah, you made me cry, you muppet! I’m so fucking proud of you,” You tell him, sounding nothing but truly sincere. There’s tears in your eyes again, happy tears for him, and he feels a surge of adoration bloom in his chest. “Congratulations, Lan. You’re destined for so much greatness, I know it.” 

He’s sweaty, sticky, and doused in champagne, but he still feels on top of the world at the joy in your eyes.

“I love you,” He blurts. He couldn’t have stopped the words spilling from his mouth even if he tried. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s knowing there’s no better time than the present, but it’s out there now. The past five months you’ve been dating have been absolutely mint, but Lando doesn’t think he could’ve gone another moment without telling you. 

You let out a watery sort of chuckle, sliding a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing him in for a kiss.

You’ve kissed before—a lot, actually—but this one feels different. Better. The giant secret that he’s been holding in from you for years and years is finally out, and it’s like a weight lifted off his chest. 

“I love you too, Lan,” You murmur, words pressed against his lips like they're something reserved only for him. “God, I love you.” 

There goes his heart right then, the last piece of his heart that he’d saved for the day he wasn’t sure would ever come. The last piece of his heart that belonged to him now belongs to you, and in this moment, you’ve got all of it. 

All of Lando’s heart is now yours. 

Lando didn’t think this day could get any better, but now there’s this. The woman of his dreams, the one he’s been in love with since you were both kids, finally loves him back.

He’s not sure what heaven is like, but Lando imagines it might be something like this.

Here, under the Abu Dhabi sky, he’s gotten the championship, he’s finally gotten his girl. To him, there’s nothing better than it. 

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[miryum]

☆ miryum's dc universe☆

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t home when you first moved in. If he was, he would’ve offered to help with the heavy furniture. Alfred raised a gentleman, of course. But no, he was off in a safe house, nursing a wound from last night's patrol. A bullet had grazed his side and it was leaving a nasty ache

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then didn’t mean to wake you when he crashed into his apartment that night, via window. How could he know that someone had just moved into the apartment next door and was startling at every bump in the night?

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was very surprised when he, still in his Red Hood gear, heard someone knock on the door soon after. A very sweet voice called out, “hello? I just want to check that you’re okay? I know it’s not my place and you might be a serial killer, but just wanted to make sure you’re not having a heart attack.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who threw off his helmet and voice modulator before clearing his throat and calling out, “nope! No, I’m fine. Uh… thank you?” 

Neighbour!Jason Todd who breathed a sigh of relief when the voice responded, “oh, okay. I- I’m sorry. Good night.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who stood up, even though his bullet wound cried out against it. He wasn’t sure why he stood, for he could already hear your footsteps departing. His face twisted into one of confusion, both at his reaction, and the fact that someone had come to check up on him. The majority of his neighbours didn’t care

Neighbour!Jason Todd who next met you when he was going to get the mail. He saw you outside the lobby door, crouching down. His curiosity got the better of him and he stepped outside during dusk in Gotham, something no citizen should ever do

Neighbour!Jason Todd who found out that you were feeding the street cats. You were fucking feeding the street cats. There were at least six cats surrounding you, weaving in between your legs as you set down a bowl of milk and some cat food. He cleared his throat and you looked up at him, already smiling. How could someone in Gotham smile? At him? His long sleeves, while hiding his physical scars, surely couldn’t cover the anxiety and trauma embedded deep within him. “What… what are you doing?” he asked softly

Neighbour!Jason Todd who simply stared at you as you responded, “I’m feeding the cats.” After a pause, you added, “they were meowing at me when I came home from work so I picked up some cat food from the store and brought it back to them. Aren’t they just adorable?” You reached out to pet one who gladly turned on its belly for you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who asked, “you know, they do that to everyone? They’re smart enough to know a new face that’ll feed them.” And then he mentally kicked himself because now this girl thought he was pessimistic and didn’t feed the cats. Then you shrugged and everything seemed better. “Yeah, I know, but they look so hungry…” The way your lips tilted to the side made Jason want to stare at them forever

Neighbour!Jason Todd who almost offered to adopt the cats because that meant that you would come over to his apartment to see them

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then rubbed the back of his neck and announced, “my name is Jason.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who melted when you laughed lightly and introduced yourself. He knew he had found the one

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then became much more aware of your presence in the apartment building. It wasn’t hard to piece together your routine (which you should think of changing regularly because it would be too easy for a criminal to figure it out) and if that meant Jason went to go on runs every now and then that coincided with your grocery trips, then it was a coincidence. He would grab his mail the same time you did. He would take more care to not make as much noise when he returned after vigilante nights, as to not wake you. It was the little things, he reasoned, that would make you notice him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t know what to do when the power went out. Of course, he had his survival kit ready and stocked with a flashlight, provisions, a blanket, a portable charger, and numerous weapons. He was ready to wait it out, but he didn’t know what to do when it came to you. Should he go over and check on you? Or would that seem like he thought you couldn’t handle yourself? 

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t have to worry for long because a soft, rapid knock came at the door. He wasn’t surprised when you were there, small flashlight in hand. “Does this happen often?” is the first thing you asked. Jason huffed a laugh and replied with his own question, “is this your first time in Gotham?”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who invited you into his apartment. He wasn’t sure whether or not to count this as a first date, but you were soon bundled in his blankets and asking questions about his personal life, so that was like a date, right? He hadn’t been on many and didn’t intend to now that he met you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who did not know what to do when you fell asleep on his couch. Holy shit. Fuck. What should he do? He didn’t want you to think he assaulted you while you were sleeping, so for a couple minutes he sat in his kitchen, watching you wearily and putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. But then he didn’t like the distance between you, so it was a real conundrum

Neighbour!Jason Todd who instead sat awkwardly on his ottoman, watching TV with the volume muted and subtitles on

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t even leave for patrol when the other members of the Batfam asked for help. The blackout was causing Gotham to run wild, but Jason was content with locking the doors and making sure you were comfy

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was still sitting on that ottoman when you woke up in the morning. He carefully evaded your questions on whether he slept and instead decided to make you breakfast. When you complimented his breakfast over and over, joking how you would have to come over more often if it meant his cooking, Jason agreed maybe a bit too quickly

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was the neighbour you then called on if you had a package arriving during work hours and needed someone to sign it. He was the neighbour you didn’t mind seeing in the halls because a chat with him wasn’t seen as uncomfortable. He was the neighbour you asked to help repair the sink (you got a very lovely image of his shirt riding up as he laid underneath your sink and maybe it was because you were ovulating but oh god did you want to jump his bones). He was the neighbour who, when he found out you liked similar movies, stumbled over his words to invite you to watch them with him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who actually didn’t love the genre of movies you did, but would like them if it meant seeing you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t sure what your relationship status was with him and it ate away at him almost every moment of the day. You were always in the back of his mind, always making his heart warm 

Neighbour!Jason Todd who tried to coax you back to your apartment after you returned home one night, stumbling and intoxicated. But you didn’t want to. You were firmly standing in his doorway and kept blabbering about meaningless things. When he finally convinced you to rest on his couch, you declared, stumbling over your words, “see? This is why I like you Jason. You- you’re a- a very- You’re a very good person.” You then reached up and patted his cheek. “Love you, bye-bye.” And you promptly fell asleep

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was then in a state of shock of the next three hours

Neighbour!Jason Todd who ended up calling Alfred at four in the morning, prompting the older man to think the ex-Robin was kidnapped and needed help. As it turned out, Jason needed help, but with a girl; not a crime lord. Alfred sent Jason off with a few words of wisdom and luck, the most notable being, “Master Jason, if the girl does not return your feelings, then you can simply move out of your apartment and back into the Manor.” Jason thought that was a worse fate than you rejecting him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was very patient the next morning, giving you painkillers and a large glass of water. When you remembered the previous night, mortified, he tried to calm you down, eyes worried that you would leave him. He wasn’t sure what he would do if you left his life

Neighbour!Jason Todd who, in a mess of panic and embarrassment, managed to blurt out, “no, wait! I- I want you to stay. Please. I know you didn’t mean your words last night, but I really like having you in my life. Can’t we… be friends?” It broke his heart to suggest it, but he’d be willing to keep that platonic bond if it didn’t drive you away

Neighbour!Jason Todd who waited, heart in his throat, when the seconds ticked by and you didn’t answer. “But I did mean them,” you finally whispered out. “I like you, Jason. And I wanna do something about that.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who stammered and spluttered, “well, then, let’s do something.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who took you out on dates every week and didn’t know what to do when you found the Red Hood gear in his closet when you were searching for a hoodie to steal

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t expecting you to laugh, of all things. “I guessed,” is all you said. And that’s when Jason kissed you for the first time

Neighbour!Jason Todd who became a staple in your life, not only because you two lived in the same building, but because of how amazing he was. There were no other words to describe it. It was like the man knew your needs before you did and fulfilled them just because he wanted to. He was the epitome of “princess treatment”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was scared for you to sleep over for the first time because of his nightmares but found out that when your head was on his bicep (cutting off circulation to his fingers), and your body was tucked into his, hair messy and lips slightly parted, that he didn’t have nightmares. It was like you scared them all away, just by being there

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wanted you to sleep over much more frequently

Neighbour!Jason Todd who made it a habit to buy cat food at the grocery store because you still insisted on feeding those damn cats after months of living in Gotham. Nevermind that the cats had found which apartment you lived in and climbed up to the window via the fire escape. Nevermind that the cats realised that when you weren’t in your apartment, you were most likely in Jasons. And nevermind that he now had cats outside his window almost 24/7 that he begrudgingly fed because who was he if not subject to you or Damian’s rants about feeding the fucking cats

Neighbour!Jason Todd who just liked to touch you. He liked to be reminded that he was much bigger than you and his body could swallow yours up whilst cuddling on the couch. He liked to put his arm around your shoulder and trace patterns on your skin. He liked to hug you tightly from behind because it reminded him that you were there and you were his. He liked to do this in public too – not huge amounts of PDA, but a hand on the waist or slipped in your back pocket. A hand on the small of your back when crossing streets. Reaching out behind him to grab your hand while walking through large crowds

Neighbour!Jason Todd who, a year later, signed the lease to your apartment, so that now you were neighbours who shared a bed and a bathroom and a home

[lavandulawrites]

An Escape To Warmer Temperatures

Yandere Capitano x reader

Yandere Capitano is something else<3 Got this idea while doing the archon quest.

Synopsis: Capitano wants to take you with him to Natlan in search of the pyro gnosis

Masterlist

Warnings: spoilers for 5.1, implied murder, implied violence (not towards the reader), obsessiveness, possessiveness, power imbalance

Word count: 1146

The Captain was a righteous man. It was a well known fact. He was tall, way above 190 cm and he was as muscular as a god. He had an aura that made one cower before him, even if you didn’t know about his identity as the 1st Harbinger. His love for you was passionate and over consuming. He sat you above all others and he had told you time after time that he would burn down Teyvat for you. It was no secret that Capitano had shed blood for you. Both his own and the blood of others. He never told you, but you had gotten the glance of blood speckles on his clothing after some had sent you a dirty look and you had overheard his lackeys disposing of what remained of a unfortunate man who had bumped into you.

Capitano was a strange man, but there was no doubt about his love for you.

At night he caged you in an gentle, but firm embrace. His strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you close. At first you had resisted, in fear of what he might do to you, but you caved in when you realised he didn’t mean you any harm.

Capitano was no stupid man, quite on the contrary. He knew about the dangers of the world and wanted nothing more than to shield you from said dangers.

The snow storm had lasted for days, almost a week. The wind hammered against the roof and the snow clouded the sky in an endless stream of white. The old hearth was lit and the flames beckoning you closer. You reached out your hands in an attempt to warm them. The flames were bright and looked like a living breathing being.

The polished floor creaked making his presence known. Your eyes remained focused on the fire rather than his imposing figure. His movements stilled and you knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“You are home” you could almost see your breath in the cold air despite the fire before you.

A low hum could be heard from behind you. A heavy fur trimmed coat was laid around your shoulders in an attempt to stop the shivering of your limbs that you hadn’t been aware of.

“We finished early” the black haired captain replied. His hand stayed on your shoulder. “Are there any special reasons as to why it is so terrible cold in here?”

“The heater broke and the firewood was wet” your eyes were still staring into the flames.

The hand on your shoulder moved its thumb in an comforting manner. “Why didn’t you ask the servants to help you?”

“I don’t mind the cold…” your voice low. The truth was that the temperature inside the grand mansion was one of the few things you could control in your life. It was rather childish, but you couldn’t care less.

“I see…” he sighed. The thumb came to a halt. “There is something I have been wanting to discuss with you.”

The Captain often gave you the illusion that you had something to say in the matter of discussion, but it was only that, an illusion. What he said was final. That much you knew.

“Oh. Go on” your voice was devoid of any emotion as your mind raced through all the possibilities of what he wanted to discuss with you.

“I’m going to Natlan in the search of the gnosis” his hand left your shoulder. “And I want you to come with” his words were filled with authority.

You swallowed as your eyes widened. Natlan…. You had never set foot outside of your homeland. And now he wanted you to come with him to Natlan? You almost wanted to laugh. This was really the last thing you had expected to hear from the rigid man.

You turned around to face him. His beloved helmet was nowhere to be seen. What met you were his dark midnight blue eyes that reminded you of the deep Snezhnayan waters that you could see from your bedroom window. His eyes were deep and you felt like you could drown in the endless blues. His star-like pupils stared right back at you with a whirlwind of emotions you could only hope to place.

A scar ran down one of his eyes and you wondered how he had managed to escape with his eye intact. Multiple other scars littered his skin, but the most noticeable save form the one over his eye, were the one straight over his nose. It had faded to a white colour, but you could imagine it must have looked quite bad when he first got it.

Due to his Khaenri'an blood, his skin was filled with blue veins accompanied with black lines that ran through the entirety of his body. His mouth looked rather normal, but when he smiled or sneered it stretched a little too far for a normal human being. Behind his pale lips were sharp teeth that belonged more in the jaws of a hound, rather than a man. His tongue was long, but he rarely made it known.

Despite the curse he suffered from, he was an undeniable handsome man. His beauty was something that greatly unnerved you as he seemed almost like a beast that made itself appear human in order to come closer to its prey. He was unsettling with his imposing height and muscles, yet you found it hard to tear your eyes from his own.

“Do I have a choice?” your voice were meek despite your effort at sounding indifferent.

He huffed and the corner of his lips turned slightly downward as his dark eyebrows furrowed. “No” Capitano’s voice was soft as if he tried to calm you down. It came as no surprise that he had long sensed your inner turmoil.

His large hands cupped your face gently. His thumbs stroking your cheekbones. He stared at you for a while before he pulled you into an embrace. His strong arms caging you in as your face was pressed against his muscular chest. His hand stroked your back and you found yourself getting calmer.

“I think a change of scenery will do you good” the bit that he was incapable of departing from you for a long period of time was left unsaid, yet the words hung heavy in the air. Suddenly the living room felt as hot as the steps of Natlan.

His hand traveled up to your head were it intertwined with your soft locks. His head came down slightly as he inhaled your scent in a rather desperate motion that seemed unfit for the 1st Harbinger.

“Jeg elsker deg [Name]” the words that left his lips were in the national language of his homeland. Though you didn’t know the language, you understood all too well what those words meant.

Translation

Norwegian → English

Jeg elsker deg = I love you

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot. 

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time. 

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit. 

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava. 

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider. 

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast? 

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something. 

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’. 

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you. 

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.” 

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway. 

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?” 

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors. 

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. 

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him. 

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle. 

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end. 

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs. 

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.  

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room. 

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get. 

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you. 

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes  a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same. 

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.” 

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.  

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close. 

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth. 

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants. 

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full. 

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts. 

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?” 

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles. 

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane. 

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats,  nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high. 

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance. 

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention. 

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Biker AU, Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: A certain dark haired leader of a biker club caught your attention online and you've been watching his weekly races in secret—or so you thought. Little did you know, this handsome biker already knows about his cute little stalker...

Content Warnings: Stalking but online. Smut🔞 after a bit of plot. Unprotected sex, P in V (from the behind), riding, rough, dirty talk(?), ass slapping, pet names, choking(kinda���), aftercare in the shower. Chris is a tease (maybe like a bit?).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: 17 days late, but better than never— HAPPY NEW YEAR! I've been wanting to draw and write biker Chan for a LONG LONG TIME, so finally here it is. (Yes that drawing is done by me haha)

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇ��� ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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The bike flashed away into the stretching tracks in a blink of an eye, leaving a trail of excitement and dust in its wake. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices drowned out by the fading growl of the engine.

You pushed your hood further over your head to cover your hair flying in that direction, blending into the mass of onlookers while your eyes stayed glued to the figure disappearing into the night.

Christopher Bang Chan.

Did an accidental misclick on a hashtag "NightRider" lead you into his world? Yes.

You did have an unexplainable attraction towards bikes. It was the thrill, the speed, the freedom. Even if you couldn't ride one, the way bikes looked like a beast that could conquer the roads, it fascinated you.

But this— this wasn't just an attraction towards the sleek BMW S1000rr that was speeding this evening. No.

A random late-night scroll had led you to a short video of him—helmet off, his hair dark slightly tousled, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he dismounted his bike like he owned the world. That pulled you like a magnet to steel.

You watched him, racing the tracks with swift motion, in practice ease, over taking every other rider, everything about him demanding attention.

Every other rider was left in his dust, and the cheers of his friends, 7 guys echoed above the deafening roar of the engines.

"Teach these bastards why they can’t touch you!” one of them bellowed, pumping his fist in the air, his blood red hair catching the rays of the setting sun.

“Eat that, losers!” another laughed, slapping the back of the guy next to him as they all leaned against their bikes, eyes glued to Chan’s figure dominating the track.

In a final swift, Chan drifted his bike as he reached the finish line, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a perfect arc. A plume of smoke curled up from under the wheels, his dimpled grin flashing at his victory and triumph.

The lingering growl of his bike continued as he sat there for a moment, one leg propped on the ground as if soaking in the chaos he had just commanded. His friends were the loudest of all, their jeers and cackles cutting through the noise.

Chan finally killed the engine and swung off the bike with the same effortless grace that had first caught your attention online. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his head slightly to ruffle his dark hair into place.

His eyes gleamed with a mix of adrenaline and triumph as he tucked the helmet under one arm and began walking toward his friends.

“That’s how it’s done, you fucking legend!” yelled one in a strong Australian accent, smacking Chan’s shoulder, the redhead taking his helmet from him and handing in a water bottle.

“Told you it wasn’t even a competition,” Chan quipped, his voice smooth but laced with that cocky edge that made your stomach flip.

The crowd began descending, slowly leaving you alone in your place, your hood over your head, covering your face slightly. Just as you were about to look away, his eyes briefly landed on you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze on you. It was like he knew who you were but that was impossible. You've been secretly coming to the race every Saturday (telling your parents that you're going to the library) ever since you discovered his page and of course he doesn't know who you are.

It's out of the question.

Chan's smirk deepened, something wicked flashing in his expression. You quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with your phone, but you could still feel the heat of his gaze.

Before you made a fool of yourself, you stood up and walked towards the end of the track, pulling your hood lower to shield your face. Just as you were about to step into the shadows, a sharp, confident whistle cut through the air, freezing you in your tracks.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, you didn't turn around but felt Chan's lingering gaze pressing against your back. You turned slightly to see through your shoulders but then turned around and walked away as if you didn't hear anything at all.

“That chick’s been here for the last four weeks.” Minho commented, his voice casual as he tipped back his can of Red Bull.

Chan didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the spot where you had disappeared into the shadows. His jaw tensed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.

He could still picture the way you had glanced over your shoulder for a split second, like you’d been caught but refused to admit it.

"Oi, Chan," Felix called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You losing your touch, mate?"

The group erupted in laughter, their cackles echoing against the emptying track.

“Maybe she’s got better taste than you thought,” I.N added, smirking as he leaned against his own bike.

"She’ll come around." Chan said smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly, the cocky edge in his voice masking the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface.

"Will she now?" Hyunjin mocked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"Trust me," he said, his tone low and deliberate. "No one comes to my races four weeks in a row without a reason." A devilish smirk tipped the corner of his lips that made the guys exchange glances.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Changbin interrupted, pushing himself upright with a sharp look.

"You don't even know what I was thinking." Chan shot back, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. "Besides, if she keeps coming back, she’s going to slip up eventually. And when she does…”

Changbin rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a Red Bull from the ice box. He knew that Chan wasn't going to listen to what he's gonna say anyway.

Chan walked towards his bike and hoped on, revving his engine as it roared to life and slipping his helmet on. He glanced at his friends, his smirk turning downright wicked.

"Then what?" Hyunjin asked, crossing his arms.

"She wanted my attention, so she got it. And I want something in return.”

With that, he sped off into the night, leaving the guys behind in a cloud of smoke and laughter.

***

"Three, two, one, let's gooo!..."

You kept scrolling through Instagram reels, nothing interesting that grabbed your attention.

But you couldn't stop thinking about Chan...

It's Saturday, four o'clock in the evening. His races start at five. You went through his Instagram and TikTok, creating a folder in your saves for his biking videos and you catch yourself rewatching his highlights again and again.

Were you guilty for stalking him online? A bit—but you couldn't stop it. His bike didn't even fascinate you anymore the way it did the first time. You just were feeling obsessed with him.

The race track was only a few blocks away from you and you couldn't help but think, could he have crossed your home? You never noticed it but now everytime you hear a speeding engine, you look out your window, hoping it's Chan.

Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.

You went back to Chan's account and scrolled down his feed, opening some of his old posts when suddenly the phone slipped out of your hand and fell on your face.

"Fuck!" You yelped, rubbing your forehead, eyes widening as you glanced at the screen in horror.

Oh fuck—

You accidentally liked a picture of him from two years ago.

The red heart stared back at you, mocking your clumsiness, your heart sank as panic took over.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you whispered, scrambling to unlike it. You tapped the heart again, watching it disappear, but the damage was already done. Your phone trembled in your hands as you stared at the post, your reflection visible in the darkened screen.

It was a picture of him leaning casually against his bike, wearing a tank top with his buff arms crossed, a majestically inked dragon flexing on his bicep.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, clutching your forehead. Does he get notifications for old likes? Does Instagram even do that?

You sat up, your mind racing just as fast as his bike. He had half a million followers, so maybe he wouldn’t notice, right? But what if he did? What if he checked? What if he remembered your face from the track and connected the dots?

"Calm down," you whispered, trying to reason with yourself. "He probably won’t even notice."

But deep down, a small voice in the back of your mind said otherwise.

Because if there was one thing you’d learned about Chan from watching him race, it was that he noticed everything.

~

"She'll be here today." Chan said, tossing the Red Bull can in the trash and turning towards his friends.

Seungmin tilted his head, looking up from his phone, arching a skeptical brow. "Oh, so now you're a psychic?"

Chan rolled his eyes, leaning casually against his bike. “No. She's been coming every Saturday, there's no way she'll not come today."

“You’ve been stalking your stalker?” Felix chimed in, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement as he slipped his hands in the pocket of his pants.

Chan smirked, unbothered by the jab. “I don’t need to stalk. She makes herself obvious. Hood up, always at the same damn spot. Like clockwork.”

“Maybe she’s just here for the bikes,” Seungmin said with a shrug, going back to scrolling on his phone. Chan shook his head, his smirk widening.

Chan shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah, it’s not the bikes anymore. Her eyes practically screamed busted when I whistled at her.”

“That’s because you’re fucking annoying.” Jisung piped up, sipping from his own can of soda. “If someone whistled at me in public, I’d leave too.”

The group laughed, but Chan’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the track like he was already envisioning you standing there.

"Race instead of me." Chan effortlessly tossed his keys at Changbin.

"What?" Changbin caught the keys with a sharp reflex, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"If she's really into the bikes, she wouldn't care if the rider is different. But if that's not the case..." His smirk grew wider.

"Then she'll know it's not me the second you hit the track." Chan finished, rolling his helmet between his hands. "She’s been watching me, not the bike. Let’s see if she’s as observant as I think."

Changbin raised an eyebrow, twirling the keys in his hand. “So, you’re basically using me as bait?”

“Not bait,” Chan corrected, handing Changbin his helmet and clapping him on the shoulder. “More like... a decoy. Just ride, keep it clean, and make it convincing. Wear my helmet, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”

“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Felix said, shaking his head.

“Shut up and watch,” Chan said, his tone light but confident. He turned back to Changbin. “You good?”

Changbin sighed, slipping the helmet on. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blame me if I win and your little stalker realizes you’re not as fast as you think.”

The group laughed again, but Chan was already focused, his gaze cutting across the other riders getting ready for the race and watching the crowd gather, waiting for his shadowed muse.

The air began getting slightly colder, riders hopping on their bikes getting ready for the race. Chan stood with the guys, his back facing the crowd and his face hidden with a hoodie, watching Changbin rev up the engine.

He gave a small thumbs to Bin who responded with his own one and held the handle, preparing to flash away.

You finally managed to slowly get in your spot blending in with the crowd, your usual hood on, hair in front to shield your face, eyes glued on the riders before you.

At this point it felt silly than anything else, sneaking around every Saturday like you were some undercover agent. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The magnetic pull Chan had on you was impossible to ignore, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself.

Your eyes scanned the lineup of riders, automatically locking onto the sleek, black BMW S1000rr. The sound of its engine roaring to life sent a familiar thrill through you, but something felt... different tonight.

The rider atop the bike gave a sharp nod, helmet obscuring his face. You couldn’t tell, but the way he usually carried himself—effortless confidence paired with a hint of smugness—seemed oddly subdued.

Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?

You pushed the thought away, gripping the edge of your hoodie to ground yourself. Focus. It didn’t matter. You were here for the race, for the thrill, not for him.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself since the last four races.

The countdown began, the cheers of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Three... Two... One—

The riders shot forward, a blur of color and speed tearing down the track. Your eyes stayed glued to the black bike, trying to shake the unease gnawing at the back of your mind.

Is it him?

You watched curiously for the first two rounds, pushing away the feeling that it's not Chan but when it was the third round and you still didn't see his dramatic drift at the curved corners of the track, you were sure that it really wasn't Chan racing.

You leaned backwards exhaling and pulling out your phone, your interest in the race quietly dying down.

"I caught you princess..." A smug grin spread across Chan's face who had been secretly watching you but the race.

Hyunjin, who had also been watching you with Chan, waiting for him to be wrong, sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and slapping it into Minho’s palm.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shooting Chan a side glance. "She really is here for you man."

Chan chuckled, low and confident. “Told you,” he said, brushing past them as he made his way toward you.

You were distracted with the reels playing on your phone to notice until he sat next you, your eyes fell on that unmistakable silver bracelet you recognised instantly.

Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Enjoying the race?” a low, teasing voice asked, so close you could feel the faint vibration of it in your chest. You stiffened, your head snapping up.

And there he was. Bang Chan.

Sitting casually next to you, leaning back like he owned not just the seat, but the entire universe. His hoodie was slightly pushed back, giving you a perfect view of his sharp jawline and those maddening dimples that tugged at his smirk.

For the first time, you noticed how sharp his features were up close—perfectly sculpted, how his lashes framed those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.

You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to spill over, but you kept your guard up and tried to calm your racing heart.

“You okay there, princess?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe... me?”

You quickly snapped out of it, your face heating. “I’m fine,” you said, sitting straighter and forcing your voice to sound steady. "And I think you've mistaken me, I don't really know you."

Your lie was so bland, it practically hung in the air like a neon sign screaming caught red-handed.

Chan raised an eyebrow, playfully scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Is that so?” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. He leaned in slightly, and you caught a faint whiff of leather and something distinctly him—sharp, clean, and deathly intoxicating.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I don’t really follow bikers.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin theatrically, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Funny, because someone who doesn’t follow bikers somehow managed to stumble across my page. And, oh, what’s this?” 

He mimicked scrolling on an invisible phone, his grin wicked. “Liked a post from two years ago? Now, that’s dedication for someone who doesn’t know me.”

Your stomach did a somersault, and for a moment, you were certain your face betrayed you. But you quickly composed yourself, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “That was an accident,” you said coolly, trying to ignore the way your pulse thundered in your ears.

Chan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you accidentally clicked on my profile, accidentally scrolled back two years, and accidentally double-tapped? Seems like a lot of accidents for one person.”

You huffed, glaring at him. “Are you always this full of yourself?”

“Only when I’m right.” He shot back smoothly, his dimpled grin so close now, you could count the faint freckles dotting his cheekbones. 

You could do nothing to calm your racing heart as Chan adjusted his seat and leaned back, watching whoever was racing in his place. He didn't say a word after that, just stayed silent and concentrated on the track.

You kept glancing at him with the corner of your eyes without fully turning, focusing on the race as well, but you could have sworn that he could hear your pounding beats in your chest over the screeching tires.

Of course whoever was riding in on behalf of Chan won tonight's race in an equally dramatic drift, you caught Chan smirking and nodding proudly. You were unsure what to do and stood in your place while the crowd began standing up, then when you were about to leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Where are you off to now?" His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, mischief oozing from every inch of his expression.

“You’ve been sneaking in to watch the race for weeks, and now that you’ve got what you wanted, you’re just gonna leave? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?” 

You bit your lip, debating your next words. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also… dangerously attractive. Finally, you sighed, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I did. So what?”

Chan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty, before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t think you’d actually own up to it.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” you shot back, your tone laced with feigned impatience, though your pulse still raced from his lingering touch.

Chan tilted his head, eyeing you thoughtfully, then exhaled a sharp breath. “Don’t you think it’s time you saw what it’s like on the track?”

You blinked at him, your breath hitching. “What are you talking about?”

He straightened up, fixing his hoodie. “I’m offering you a ride, princess. Around the track. Are you up for it, or not?”

The sass in his tone lit a fire in you. You loved bike rides, the rush of speed, the wind in your hair—but doing it with him? That felt like stepping into dangerous territory. Still, your pride wouldn’t let you back down.

You crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “Fine. Let’s see if your riding skills are as good as your ego.”

Chan chuckled, the sound deep and low, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Careful what you wish for, princess,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not be able to handle it.”

You scoffed, though your heart was pounding. “We’ll see about that.”

You followed Chan as he descended the stairs and made his way towards his friends, all of them surrounded with their own bikes, cans of Red Bull, wearing leather jackets.

“Yo, I.N!” Chan called out as you approached, his voice carrying over the noise of the dispersing crowd. He looked up from his phone, his expression curious.

“What’s up?” I.N asked, his brows lifting when he saw you trailing behind Chan.

Chan jerked his chin toward I.N’s helmet, which was resting on the bike parked beside him. “Hand that over. Our guest needs it.”

I.N blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, she’s riding with you?”

“Finally got yourself a passenger?” Minho, who was leaning casually against his own bike, snorted.

“Just a little gratitude to her for being so kind and showing up to my races every week.” Chan replied smoothly, throwing you a sidelong glance.

Your cheeks flushed crimson but you didn't say anything. You couldn't because you felt like your throat was shut tight.

The group erupted into low chuckles, Minho gave Chan a knowing look, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Don’t mess up my helmet,” I.N said, handing it over. “It's my favourite one.” 

You hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. “Don't worry, I won't.” You said softly. 

The group watched you curiously as if they were waiting for you to make a mistake but Chan’s gaze was the only one you cared about. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.

“Nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk.

You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not even a little.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Don't hold back and enjoy the ride.”

Changbin threw the keys at Chan and handed him the helmet, moving aside revealing the sleek black BMW, shining under the bright full moon light.

Chan got on the bike and you climbed up behind him. The tension crackled between you like static, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to throttle him—or hold on tighter.

The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through your body. Your grip on the seat tightened as Chan revved the engine, his dimpled smirk still firmly in place as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.

With a swift twist of his wrist, the bike shot forward, the sudden burst of speed forcing a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, your hands flew to his waist, gripping tightly as the world blurred around you.

The track stretched out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, the cool night air whipping past your face, your hair dancing in the wind like a wild, untamed spirit. Chan maneuvered the bike with practiced ease, leaning into sharp turns and accelerating down straightaways.

The bike slowed slightly as he leaned into another turn, and you took the chance to glance at him. The confidence in his posture, the way his shoulders moved with the bike—it was magnetic.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, his voice cutting through the wind.

You scowled, your cheeks heating. “Focus on the road, Chan.”

“I always do,” he replied smoothly. “But you’re making it a little hard, princess.”

Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. The speed continued until Chan slowed down, pulling to a stop at the other side of the track, the starting point looking like the size of an ant.

The sudden stillness was deafening compared to the roar of the engine moments ago. The cool night air clung to your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between you and Chan.

He shifted slightly, his body still straddling the bike as he turned his head toward you, his dark eyes glinting under the pale glow of the moon. “Tight grip you’ve got there, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing. 

“Didn’t think you’d want to hold on that bad.”

***

“Ah-Chan—” your moans poured out of your lips like an erotic symphony, blood rushing down like a flood bursting out of a dam as you felt his length inside of you, breasts bouncing up and down. 

Oh you were holding on that bad. 

“Ride my cock, baby. Good girl.” Chan hissed, your pussy clenching him so nicely it drove him wild. 

What started off him not knowing your existence to getting to know eachother to now him fucking the senses out of you escalated fast. 

You can't lie, you did have fantasies about him during the nights when you scrolled through his socials. Imagining how he would be in bed. Those dirty nights when you moaned his name, imagining his cock replacing your vibrator. 

Would he be gentle? A complete opposite to the menace he was on the road?

Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.

He was rough. Hard. Strong. And you enjoyed that very much. 

Chan's hand fisted your hair as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing yours drinking the taste of you. Your fingers clung onto his shoulder, nails grooving scars on his smooth skin, rocking your hips for more friction. 

His cock filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Every upward snap of his hips drove you closer to the edge, the friction against your walls making your toes curl.

“Chan—” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back as his pace quickened.

He didn’t let up. If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him on. His mouth trailed down your throat, teeth grazing your skin before he latched onto the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

His lips latched on your erect nipple, sucking and licking on it, the obscene sounds of him groaning feeling like music to your ears.

Wetness gushed down your thighs and onto his, a sinful symphony of wet, desperate noises that only fueled the fire between you.

“So fucking perfect for me.” he praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he pinched and played with your slick nipple that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. 

You felt so dirty and depraved, shamelessly riding his cock, his praises turning you on even more.

“Should I punish this pussy for stalking me baby? Hmm?” His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit, triggering an orgasm to break free just from his words.

He already “punished” you for stalking him by bending you over and fucking you to oblivion on his bike a week ago but he is so cocky and mean, he loved using that every chance he got.

“Or should I fuck you from behind and wreck you till you make a sweet mess all over my cock?” 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your release slammed through you, your body convulsing and your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips. 

You couldn't even process the aftershocks of your climax and before you knew it, you were on all fours, Chan's eyes glued on your glistening slick pussy, the angry tip of his cock grazing and teasing your swollen folds. 

“Chan— mngh,” you pushed back against him, whining with need, feeling the anticipation rebuild as you kept feeling the tip nudge against your entrance.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “Barely gave you time to breathe, and here you are, already begging for me to ruin you again.”

Your fingers clenched the sheets, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire. “Please, Chan,” you breathed, voice muffled and desperate.

“Please, what?” he sneered, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his silver chain and bracelet on his wrist touching your skin, cold. 

His breath was hot against your ear, and his hand slid up your body to grip your throat. “You want me to fuck you? Say it.” 

Your cheeks burned, but the heat between your legs overshadowed any embarrassment. “I need you to fuck me, Chan,” you whispered, then louder, “Ruin me. Wreck me.”

He groaned at your words, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

Without another word, he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs. Your hands flew forward to steady yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that had the bed creaking beneath.

“Look at you,” he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. “So fucking cock-drunk, you can’t even think straight.” 

You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly. 

Every stroke hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him. His balls slapped against your clit, an almost tight hand around your throat had your vision going white.

His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder and his hand met with a sharp slap! on your ass. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grab the headboard.

“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral.

“You can’t what?” Chan snarled, his voice laced with mockery as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot and your skin meeting with another sharp slap! 

His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?”

“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him.

His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let the whole world know who’s making you feel this good.”

The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly.

“I'm gonna come— I'm—”

You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he spilled his seed in you.

“Fuck.” Chan groaned, his grip on your throat loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full.

Breaths ragged and heavy, the room was mixed in scents of mint and sex. Chan collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his weight.

“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin.

Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved.

His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark.

Slowly your bodies untangled and he fell on his back next to you, the both of you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what just happened settling in. 

You gently turned your head to see Chan, who was lost in his own thoughts. He felt you watching him and he turned too, a soft smile tipping the corner of his lips, his fingers brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

His eyes trailed down your body, skin peppered with his bite marks and hickeys, something unusually painful stung in his chest even though he had never felt that before.

You moved closer to him, pecking a sweet kiss on his nose that made him knit his brows smiling.

“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me if you think you did.” You said reassuringly.

Chan let out a soft breath, his smile faltering for a moment as he studied your face. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark bruise on your collarbone, his touch featherlight.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, his teasing edge nowhere to be found. 

You rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your cheek and kissed your forehead.

Chan got up from the bed and carried you in his arms towards the shower, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh as your head rested against his chest.

Under the spraying water, the steam curled around the two of you, but his touch was what kept you warm. 

He grabbed a washcloth and the soap, lathering it before starting at your shoulders. His touch was slow and deliberate, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned every inch of your skin. 

When he reached your bruised hips, his lips ghosted over one of the marks that made your heart flutter. 

Once he was satisfied, he handed you the cloth, smirking faintly. “Your turn, princess.”

You laughed softly, taking it from him and mimicking his careful actions. You then saw the scratch marks and crescent scars you had left on his skin, etched like tiny badges.

Your fingers ghosted over them as you cleaned him, a pang of guilt flashing through your chest.

“Sorry about these,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Chan chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Don’t be. I like them."

Heat rose up your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

When you reached his bicep, you couldn’t resist tracing the outline of his tattoo, your fingers brushing over the ink that decorated his skin.

“You really are full of surprises,” you said, your voice soft.

His brow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “The rough biker with the soft side. Didn’t think I’d ever see it.”

He smirked, pulling you closer under the spray of water. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, letting the water cascade over both of you. Pearl-like drops of water slid down your bodies, your back pressed against the cold titles as Chan's mouth claimed yours. 

After the shower Chan changed into his clothes and you slipped into comfy sweats, he grabbed his keys and helmet from the living room, walking toward the door with a cool, confident stride.

“My race is on Saturday,” He said, slipping on his helmet. “I hope you'll be there, princess.” 

A chuckle escaped from your lips, your mind going back to how you went watch his races every Saturday without him knowing who you were. 

“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”

Chan nodded, opening the front door and stepping out, you watched him climb on his bike, revving the engine back to life. With a twist on the handle, he zoomed out into the night, flashing away into the stretching darkness leaving a trail of himself behind.

You couldn’t help but think that stumbling across that video online of a certain biker had definitely been the best misstep of your life.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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Here's a bigger and better quality picture of my drawing of Biker Chan:

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[maxlarens]

Driver!reader and oscar starting the race from p1&p2 and before they put their helmets and stuff they kiss one last time on the grid and people go like "awwwww" because it was somehow filmed

i feel like u sent this in to be like a concept or something but I HAD to write it. i’ve been writing for lando so much lately i’ve very much been missing oscar + driver!reader. plus i’ve not ever written them in an established relationship before!

It’s not like you and Oscar are a secret.

It might have been easier that way, to keep your relationship from the public’s prying eyes, but it’s not really your style. It’s not Oscar’s either.

Being public comes with its problems— questions from the media, awkward interviews, your respective PR teams going a little buck wild, extra contracts and NDAs to sign— but it also has its benefits.

You like be able to talk about him, like being able to call him your boyfriend. ‘Oscar Piastri, the driver for McLaren? Yeah, that’s my boyfriend’. You like hearing him say things about you, praise your driving skills, talk about you as a rival and as his girlfriend. It’s all you can do to stop grinning like a madwoman whenever you’re in his vicinity. You equally like that the press can’t comment meaningfully on it, can’t speculate wildly about the nature of your relationship when you’ve made it clear.

Some people hate it. They think you’re a silly little girl with her head full of romantic notions. No room for skill, for ruthlessness. Which is funny, given that Oscar receives only praise for “bagging you”. You think they’re just jealous; if not of the fact that Oscar’s dating you and not them, then of your duality. The way you can love Oscar wholeheartedly and also race Oscar wholeheartedly.

They’re not mutually exclusive in your experience.

Naturally, there’s a massive buzz about you and Oscar being P1-P2 on the starting grid.

You’re not particularly surprised. The MCL’s had been performing well all through practice, just as you and Lewis had. You pull out pole in quail, fastest Q1 and Q2, with Oscar hot on your tail. There’s a barrage of bizarre questions in the media pen,

Do you think Oscar’s grid position will impact your performance during the race? Why would it?

Will this affect your relationship with Oscar? No.

What happens if one of you wins and the other doesn’t? The same thing that happens every time anyone wins ever?

You’re confused by it. Bordering on snarky and sarcastic the fifth time someone asks if you and Oscar might break up over this. Rolling your eyes, thinking your true feelings are obvious, you tell some Italian journalist that yeah no we might break up if he doesn’t let me win.

It’s funny, objectively it’s hilarious. You and Oscar laugh over it later that afternoon. Send the clip to a group chat you’re in with a few drivers closer to your age. And so what if it’s still funny when clickbait articles and gossip sites start saying that the two of you have broken up.

There’s even more buzz about it by the morning of the race. Journalists you’ve already talked to have suddenly become convinced that you and Oscar are on the rocks. You can’t help but play into it a bit— partially for the benefit of your PR team— arriving separately, forgoing the couple snap that you usually grace Kym Illman with, giving vague no-comment answers when the media accost you.

Maybe it’s a little childish, a little dramatic. But it serves them right for jumping to conclusions.

You avoid any presenters on the grid walk, sinking into the protective circle made by your engineers. Staying behind the roped off areas until about 10 minutes to race start when you finally hop over the MCL in P2.

Oscar’s drinking water, looking smug when you push through McLaren engineers, so used to your continued presence that they let you in with ease.

“Hey,” you greet, reaching out to smooth the collar of his fireproofs, “How’s it goin’?”

“Mm,” he hums, cutting a glance behind you, which you take to mean that there are cameras trained on the two of you, a reporter trying to get your attention maybe, “I’d be better if I was on pole.”

You hiss mockingly, “Yeah, too bad. You gonna break up with me about it?”

He raises an eyebrow, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I didn’t know you read F1 gossip sites?”

You shrug in response, “Don’t need to. The media make enough noise about it.”

He hums again, smile pulling at his mouth while someone from Mercedes shouts at you to get back. Rachel probably. You should go, you really should. But Oscar’s so close and so cute in those black fireproofs.

“Good luck,” you say,

leaning forward to kiss him, hand on the back of his head. A slip of tongue, not so much to be publicly obscene, but enough to leave him wanting,

“You’ll need it.”

You hear the sweet sound of him laughing as you slip away, back to where your car is sitting on pole. Ignoring the reporter dogging at your heels for a comment you don’t really need to give.

like maybe unrealistic. who cares!

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Dream Realized

Word count: 730

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris wins the Abu Dhabi GP and the Constructors’ Championship, celebrating with family

________________________________________________________

The air in Abu Dhabi was electric as the final race of the season reached its dramatic conclusion. Under the floodlights of the Yas Marina Circuit, Lando Norris crossed the finish line first, securing the victory—and clinching the Constructors’ Championship for his team.

The McLaren garage erupted with cheers and tears as the reality of the achievement sank in. The entire team jumped and hugged, their months of hard work finally paying off. But in the midst of the celebration, Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend, could only focus on one thing—him.

As soon as Lando brought his car to a stop in parc fermé, the cameras zoomed in on the triumphant driver climbing out of his car. Y/n didn’t wait for permission; she bolted from the McLaren garage, weaving through the sea of orange, straight towards him.

Lando pulled off his helmet, his face flushed with emotion, and just as he was turning toward his team, Y/n reached him. “Lando!” she called out, her voice breaking.

He spun around, his face lighting up the moment he saw her. Dropping everything in his hands, he opened his arms, and she threw herself into them. Lando lifted her off the ground, spinning her in a circle as tears streamed down both their faces.

“You did it!” she sobbed, holding his face in her hands as he set her down.

He grinned, brushing her hair back with trembling fingers. “We did it. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

The Sky Sports cameras caught every second, with David Croft exclaiming, “What a moment! Lando Norris is not just a winner for the constructors championship tonight but a winner in every sense of the word. His girlfriend, Y/n, clearly just as overjoyed as he is.”

Martin Brundle added warmly, “It’s always wonderful to see the people behind the driver—the ones who support them through the highs and lows. That embrace says it all.”

As Y/n stepped aside to let Lando celebrate with his team, she made her way to his parents, who were waiting by the podium steps. Adam and Cisca Norris beamed with pride, their son now a Grand Prix winner and McLaren a Constructors’ Champion.

When the trophy ceremony began, Y/n stood below the podium alongside his parents, watching Lando soak in the moment. The national anthem played, and Lando stood tall, afterwards gripping the trophy tightly with both hands as the crowd roared.

From below, Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again as she watched him raise the trophy high above his head. She could feel the pride radiating from his family. Cisca, noticing Y/n’s overwhelmed expression, pulled her into a warm embrace.

“He’s done it,” Cisca whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/n nodded, clinging to her. “He deserves this so much. I’m so proud of him.”

“So are we, love. And we’re proud of you too,” Cisca said, pulling back to look at her with a smile. “You’ve been such a wonderful support for him. He’s lucky to have you.”

Y/n flushed, humbled by the kind words, and hugged Cisca again. Adam patted Y/n on the back, nodding in agreement, his eyes never leaving the podium.

As Lando came down from the podium, champagne-soaked and grinning ear to ear, he spotted his family and Y/n waiting for him. He jogged over, trophy still in hand, and immediately wrapped Y/n in another hug, lifting her off the ground once more.

“You looked amazing up there,” she said, laughing as he set her down.

“I could see you,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I kept looking at you and thinking, ‘We really did it.’”

Cisca and Adam joined the moment, pulling Lando into a family embrace with Y/n squeezed between them. Sky Sports, still filming the celebration, captured the Norris family and Y/n in a heartwarming tableau, prompting Crofty to comment, “This is what it’s all about. Racing is a team sport, yes, but it’s also a family sport. And what a family moment this is for Lando Norris.”

[shomatoriashi]

08/27/24; 07:30pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they’re feeling playful ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

sylus can get very obnoxious if your attention isn’t solely on him. it’s true that he’ll spare you some time when you ask him to stay by your side while getting some work done. however, once the day morphs into night, and he realizes that you have yet to turn your gaze away from your laptop’s screen / phone-

all hell will break loose sylus will find a way to get your attention.

with your eyes hyper focused on the tasks at hand, sylus will take out his phone and type several times on its screen before suddenly standing from his spot next to you on the couch. with his arms cross, he’ll let out a huff of your name before grabbing a hold of your device and tossing it the the side of the room. a gasp would come from your parted lips, with several words of protests coming together in a mesh of panic.

“sy! that was a really expensive device! and what if you just erased my work?!”

sylus would let out a scoff in response. “what? that old thing? as if i haven’t already backed up all your work here.” he points to his phone while giving you a mischievous glint. “and besides, as long as you ask nicely, sweetie, i can replace that old thing with a mere snap of my fingertips. now come, you’ve already wasted the whole day away, and i’m not about to let you intrude on the night as well.”

his haughty tone echoes throughout the living room, making you roll your eyes when you finally decided to humor your boyfriend. watching him put on biker clothes, your eyes shamelessly follow how each piece of leather perfectly fits his body. just as you were close to admiring the curve of his ass, sylus turns around to smirk at you.

“what is it, sweetie? like what you see?”

you roll your eyes but match with sylus’s teasing nature, slapping his backside with the palm of your hand as the impact was heard echoing throughout the room. a cute, yet almost offended expression crosses his features, and it was more than enough to have you giggling in response. he rolls his eyes and takes a hold of your hand, leaning down to bite against the palm of it, his crimson eyes shining with mirth.

“i’ll take my revenge on you soon enough, love, but for now we must go.”

sylus tosses you your helmet, taking a hold of your hand as you leave the penthouse together. once you stepped into the parking garage and saw sylus’s motorcycle, you knew that you were in for a treat.

despite your prior annoyance with him tossing aside your work, admittedly, you were grateful for his forced distraction. once sylus gets on his bike, shoving aside the kickstand while revving up the engine, you don your helmet and took your place behind him.

surrounded by the faint scent of leather and his cologne, you cling to sylus as he quickly speeds out of the garage. giggling at the sensation of your stomach dropping with each turn as the scenery flew by you, you felt so free with the wind whipping through your hair.

a few minutes later, sylus slows down his bike and parks in front of a secluded building tucked away behind the cityscape. taking off his helmet first, sylus gives you an almost gentle smile, helping you out of your own helmet before walking into the hidden building.

upon entering, a man dressed in a pristine suit bows down to sylus before taking both helmets from his hands. “good evening, mr. sylus. your table has already been prepared for you.”

taking a hold of your hand, sylus leads you deeper into what you assumed was a high-end restaurant. the atmosphere was incredibly intimate, with shades of black and burgundy filling your vision as the entire place was lit up by various candles. sylus continues his trek until he reaches a private dining room.

your eyes go wide upon seeing the whole table filled with all of your favorite foods, the scents of it all invading your senses as you could feel your mouth watering in response. your stomach begins to growl, earning a rich chuckle from sylus as he helps you sit down on one of the chairs.

“go on and feast, love. i know you need some calories to prepare you for tonight.”

a flustered expression paints your features, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to protest any further with him, already digging into the food while letting out appreciative moans here and there.

sylus simply remains across from you, sipping at his red wine while basking in your every expression of contentment and pleasure, already anticipating those same expressions once you were finally beneath him while in the comfort of your bed.

upon realizing that the city was caught in a blizzard, neither you nor zayne made any effort to leave your shared home. as the snow piled on, zayne made sure to keep you warm by cooking various soups and stews along with some perfectly toasted bread to help with keeping you satisfied and full.

basking in the intensity of the heater and how comfortable the blankets were while they surrounded your pliant form, it was safe to say that you made little to no effort to get out of bed. and being the kind lover that he was, zayne allowed you to simply bask in the warmth without ever feeling the discomfort of the chilling blizzard.

in ways that zayne would never ever admit to you, he was grateful for the blizzard. since such drops in temperatures were something that you just weren’t quite used to, it made you cling to him (almost greedily), seeking for his warmth while remaining ever so close to him.

it may be a little pathetic for zayne to admit, but, the doctor didn’t get much sleep last night simply because he was basking in the way you were cuddled up so closely to him. eventually, his eyelids began to grow heavier as he fell into a peaceful slumber while dreaming of you (always dreaming of you).

while you slept, you remained oh so warm, safely wrapped up within zayne’s embrace while having the comforters shield the rest of your body from any cold air that dared to disturb you.

however, such feelings of warmth seemed to seep away from you when morning came. as the sun began shining through your curtains, you became achingly aware of how much colder the other side of the bed had become, making you shiver as you immediately opened your eyes. it takes a moment for you to adjust to the sunlight, seeing it paint your shared room in brighter hues.

wiping the sleep from your eyes, you call out to zayne, only to receive no answer in return. feeling like you were missing a piece of yourself without zayne by your side, you scan the room and see your sweater laying across one of the armchairs. brushing the tangles out of your hair, you smooth out your pajamas and put on your sweater, shivering slightly before continuing your search for zayne.

lucky for you, you didn’t have to search for long, for the moment you headed towards the kitchen, you caught sight of your backyard and had to do a double take. settled outside, you saw life sized figures made entirely of snow that was in the shape of all your favorite plushies. there was huggy bear, fleecy, to little narwie and even chubby pig! becoming enamored with such cuteness, you step out into your backyard, bare feet lightly touching at the soft snow as you admired each and every plushie made from snow.

and the more you admired each snowy figurine, the more you realized that these were all plushies zayne had won specifically for you during the many dates you spent at the arcade.

just as you were about to step forward, a powerful arm was felt wrapping around your abdomen. with a hum and a smile, you close your eyes and sway within zayne’s embrace, allowing him to place a kiss against your hair.

“what do you think?” his soft voice was heard whispering within your ear, so filled with longing as he prayed that this little surprise was enough to help with brightening your day. your giggles fill at the air when you turn around to face him, a genuine smile gracing your features when you wrap your arms around his neck.

“i love them…” just as much as i love you, you wanted to say to him, yet held back those words that threatened to bubble against your throat-

yet zayne seemed to understand you all the same, simply letting out a soft whisper of your name (much like a reverent prayer) before leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

it was in the middle of spring, and you were asleep when a series of knocks were heard coming from your window. as you tried to ignore the strange, yet incessant sounds, it seemed to get louder, making your once deep slumber slip away from you.

you groan upon being woken up. your eyes, still sensitive to the light, you reach over to blindly grasp at your phone, unlocking it to see the time read 02:00am along with a text from xavier:

hey, r u awake??

wiping the moisture from your eyes, you let out a yawn before replying back to him:

what do you think i’m doing?? i’m sleeping xavier. are you okay? do you need help?

look outside ur window.

filled with confusion, you draw back the covers and get out of bed, your bare feet meeting the carpeted floors as you followed xavier’s text and look out your window. upon doing so, you were shocked to see xavier himself waving at you while throwing another pebble at your window.

your eyes go wide when you open your window. “xavier? why are you here?”

he shrugs before stepping closer to you. “jump down, i want to take you somewhere.”

your mind was spinning, wondering why your boyfriend couldn’t be normal just this once. “what? babe, it’s late. can’t this wait-“

“absolutely not.” a rare smirk graces his handsome features as he keeps his hands outreached to you. “come on, there’s no time to waste. just jump in my arms and trust me.”

with a roll of your eyes, you straighten your shirt and shorts, climbing over the ledge of your window before making your descent down towards xavier. within seconds, he captures you in his embrace, smiling down at you while giving your forehead an audible kiss.

“see? that wasn’t so bad, right?”

you giggle and playfully shake your head, “no, it wasn’t too bad.”

xavier keeps you within his embrace, carrying you to what you assumed would be his destination. a comfortable silence falls between you and your beloved hunter, and you became curious upon seeing a large blanket spread out on a grassy hill. a lantern was seen lighting up the area as xavier gently settles you on the soft blankets.

you meet his gaze, watching xavier’s every movement when he suddenly shuts off the lantern, painting the area in complete darkness. you felt a little anxious with the lack of light, but feeling xavier wrap his arms around you while bringing your body on top of his lap makes your fears disappear into thin air.

“look.” he points a finger at the skies, and you follow his gaze before letting out a gasp. surrounding you were what seemed like millions of stars twinkling across the night sky, captivating you completely as you drink in the sight.

wishing to burn this moment into your very memories, you look back at your beloved and call out his name. letting out a hum, xavier meets your gaze, and from this lighting and angle, it appeared as though his very eyes were reflecting the stars. with your own gaze filled with adoration for him, you lean closer to him, slotting your lips against his in a perfect kiss as you burned this moment into your memories.

when rafayel places a blindfold over your eyes, you knew you were in for quite a treat. trusting your boyfriend completely, you follow him, never once letting go of his hand.

“almost there.” rafayel’s voice was heard reassuring you, and when you found that your sandals began to sink into the sand, you visibly relax while giggling. your beloved artist joins you in your laughter, his rich chuckle further providing comfort for you. a few minutes later, rafayel stops walking and lets go of your hand. humming your name, he gently unties the blindfold and takes the simple cloth away from your eyes.

it takes you a moment to adjust to your surroundings, but it was clear from the fresh scent of the ocean and the sensation of sand on your feet that you were at the beach. once you could finally see, you let out an awed gasp, seeing that you were indeed, on a beach, but with not a single person in sight.

you meet rafayel’s playful gaze and ask, “d-did you book this beach all for ourselves or something?”

yet he refuses to elaborate, simply giving you a playful wink before stating, “it’s a secret.”

he beckons at you to take off your sandals before helping you sit down on the blanket. with you both settled down, rafayel brings over the picnic basket, feeding you several servings of your favorite sandwiches along with some chips and a simple salad. as you bask in this perfect weather, you continue enjoying your lunch while looking out at the sea.

once you had your fill of food did rafayel make his move. watching as you finished taking a sip from your bottle of water, your boyfriend grabs a hold of you, taking you in his arms as he carried you bridal style towards the ocean. your giggles were heard echoing throughout the area when rafayel steps into the water.

he allows the gentle waves to surround your forms, with your laughter turning louder each time the water was felt soaking into your shirt and shorts. after spending some time jumping with the waves, rafayel carries you back against the shores, purposely landing against the shallow waters. your squeals of delight were all that could be heard as rafayel leans down to kiss you deeply, swallowing your laughter while delving his fingers into damp hair, pulling you even closer to him.

and with your lips locked with his in a searing kiss while surrounded by the ocean waters, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend this day with your beloved lover.

end notes: i’m long overdue to write fluff for all the lads men, so have this ♡ not edited yet, but i still don’t trust tumblr drafts!! i’ll make any changes once this is posted ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[purinfelix]

doctor's orders ₊˚⊹♡ - franco colapinto

summary: as if your hospital placement hasn't been stressful enough, you're thrown a new challenge - an injured biker, and his big mouth w/c: 1.7k words

a/n: u ever see a man so beautiful that you just want to patch up all his injuries and kiss him on the forehead and tell him it'll all be okay? ( ALSO LOOK I WAS PLANNING ON POSTING THIS BEFORE I FOUND OUT ABT ALL THE DRAMA BUT ITS TOO LATE NOW SO HERE WE ARE ENJOY THIS ANYWAYS SDJFKS)

"Sorry, but am I in the right place?"

If it weren't for his half-torn jacket and pleading eyes, you might've punched him in the face out of frustration right there and then. You just didn't have time for this, not now, when the emergency room was as full as ever and you were rushing back and forth making sure everything was under wraps. You weren't sure why - you were only a nursing student after all, but your advisor had said something about "real world experience" before slinking away for his lunch break, over an hour ago. Leaving you here to deal with this chaos. And now, a very good-looking man with some very bad-looking injuries.

"Yeah, please just have a seat and fill out this form, I'll be with you in a minute sir," you rattle off your pre-practised phrases hurriedly, shoving a clipboard into his arms and pacing off somewhere else. Behind you, you hear the shuffling of his boots as he returns to his chair in the waiting room, the one next to him occupied by his helmet.

It's a while before you talk to him again, at least half an hour, but the way he talks to you definitely doesn't reflect the time he's been waiting - or the amount of pain you're assuming he's in.

“Hello,” you pause, scanning the form he’s filled out with his details for a name, “Franco.”

“Hello Doc,” he smiles at you atop the hospital bed you’ve got him sitting on. 

“Biking injury?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he gestures to his helmet and scuffed racing jacket that are piled on the stool in the corner. 

“How bad?” 

“Not that bad, you should see the other guy,” he jokes, and even though it’s corny you offer an amused smile. 

“Right, okay then Franco, I’m going to have you take off your shirt.” When you look up from your clipboard, he’s posed comedically with his hands over his chest, donning a shocked expression.

“Woah, so forward doctor! At least take me out to dinner first.” 

“I need to see your injuries,” you sigh, and he only offers you a sly smile as he hops off the bed to do as you say.  

As a nursing student, you’d definitely seen your fair share of gross things - one only needed to look back to you lesson on pressure injuries to see that. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the gory mess that revealed itself as he peeled off his shirt, which was already caked with dried blood. 

“Holy-“ you start, before stopping yourself in the name of professionalism - but it’s too late and he whips his head around with a concerned look.

“What? Bad?” 

“Some would say so,” you try to steady your voice and sound as convincing as possible, already setting aside your clipboard to gather the things you need. You’re not sue if you should be doing this, or whether you even have the qualifications to - but you’re pretty sure waiting any longer might put him in danger. 

You pat the top of the bed to signal for him to sit on it again. “I need you to stay still for me, okay?” you say in the softest, most comforting tone you can manage. 

He nods and does as you say, and for the first time in the somewhat short period you’ve known him, his mask of confidence slips - revealing a slight vulnerability, and even a hint of fear. 

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll be quick,” you continue to reassure him, and he nods again. “This is going to sting a little though,” you warn as you reach into your side tray for a cotton pad soaked in iodine. Touching it gently to the smallest of his cuts, he lets out a hiss of pain, his back straightening up as he jerks away. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, though you continue to dab at his wounds. “Do you want to tell me how this happened?” You’re hoping the conversation will at least distract him as you work, or at the very least give you some information to fill his file with. But he only shakes his head reluctantly. 

“Aright then, what should we talk about?” 

There’s a beat of silence before he responds. “You?”

“Well, who’s the forward one now,” you joke, though the weak laugh he lets out tells you he’s far from kidding. If he were any other patient, in any other situation, you’d be prepared to refuse this request as per hospital guidelines. But from the shaky tone in his voice and the sight of his injuries, you can tell just how much he needs this - and so you oblige. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Let’s start with,” he pauses to let out a pained groan as you continue cleaning his wounds, “your name?” 

With one hand holding the cotton ball to his back, you lift the other to tug the lanyard holding your student ID off your neck and into his line of sight. 

“Nice photo,” he laughs as he takes it, pointing out your less-than-flattering headshot. 

“Don’t,” you threaten, though you feel comforted at the sound of his laughter, a more genuine one this time. 

“It doesn’t do you justice, you’re a lot better looking in real life.” 

“Alright, remind me to check you for a concussion later as well.” 

“No, I’m being serious!” 

“Just be quiet will you,” you huff, and he does as you say - giving you time to toss away the soaked-through cotton balls and reach for your bandages. 

“Student?” he pipes up again, eyes scanning your card. 

“Yeah, I’m here on placement.” 

“So you’re not a nurse?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but shouldn’t an actual doctor be doing this? Or at least, I don’t know, watching you?” 

“It’s been really busy this afternoon so my supervisor is,” you pause, trying your best to come up with a sensible excuse, “helping other patients. 

“Right,” he hums. 

“Why, am I not doing good enough?” 

“No I  didn’t say that!” You let out a laugh at his defensive tone, and the way he whips around to look at you apologetically with round eyes. 

“I’m kidding, though if you would feel more comfortable I can get you an older doctor.” 

“No, definitely not! I like you,” he blurts out, and it’s clear he hasn’t thought his words completely through by the way he continues to ramble a second after. “I mean, you know, an older doctor would probably like give me a lecture on road safety or something,” he follows up. As he turns around you can see the slight red tinge at the tips of his ears, causing you to let out an amused hum in agreeable as you finish patching him up. 

“Wait since you’re not a proper nurse yet,” he pipes up again a sly expression on his face, “do you still have to follow all the rules and things like that?” 

“Well, yes, I’m basically working here,” you reply, a little concerned. 

“So does that mean it’d be unprofessional for you to give me your number, you know since I’m your patient and everything?” 

This is the first thing he’s said that’s managed to actually catch you off guard, and even years of medical school isn’t enough to help you come up with an answer. “Wh- well, anyways I’ve done the best I can but you have gotten knocked up pretty bad,” you say, opting to switch the topic, “so I’d probably recommend staying overnight just so we can keep an eye on you.” 

You turn to pack up the equipment you haven’t used and grab his clipboard to make a couple notes. Behind you though, he lets out a pained groan - piquing your interest. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll just be for one or two nights and we’ll try our best to make it as comfortable as possible.” 

“I know doc, it’s just that-“ he starts, turning around to face you. 

“Why, got a girlfriend to get home to?” 

He lets out an amused scoff, “as if, I just have other things to get to.” 

“Right, well,” you clear your throat, a little embarrassed at having made a wrong assumption, “we physically cannot let you go, not in this state - consider it doctor’s orders.” 

He sighs again, though his tone is less annoyed now, and slightly more nervous. “I’ve just,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “I don’t know, hospitals kind of creep me out.” 

You spin around, a newfound tenderness in your expression as you look at him, “Oh, I see.” 

“I know it’s embarrassing, you know, since I’m a biker or whatever but-“ 

You take a couple steps closer to him, eyes scanning over his bare chest and up to his right collarbone which dons a thick scar which you can tell is from a surgery a long time ago. You gesture to it with a gloved hand, “That got anything to do with it?” 

His expression turns a little shy as his hand comes up to feel at what you’re taking about, “partially.” 

“Don’t worry, they used to freak me out too but, I-, we, will make sure it’s as comfortable for you as possible.”  He still looks a little reluctant but slips his shirt back on and heads to grab his things. The two of you walk out of the emergency room and out into the hallway. The hospital seems to have quietened down a little, the chaos from earlier being replaced by a sort of serene quiet as patients and doctors shuffle around. The two of you make your way up to the inpatient unit, where you manage to find Franco his own room for the night. 

“Plus, this way we’ll have plenty of time for you to fill me in on the details of how you ended up like this, and maybe how you got that lovely scar if I’m lucky enough.” You say as you gesture for him to go inside the room that’ll house him for the next day or so. 

“And if I’m lucky enough, maybe time to talk you into giving me your number,” he laughs as he sits down on the bed. 

You shake your head as you let out a soft laugh, already walking out of the room, “Goodnight Franco.” 

“See you tomorrow, Doc.” 

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