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totothewolff · 5 months ago

Text

The Big Slip

+18 | one shot | Toto x reader | romance, smut, drama, pinning.

Summary: Your life as a struggling arts graduate in Monaco, coming from a working-class family who lives on the outskirts, is about to change. Toto Wolff enters your life not only by giving you the best sex ever but also by making you love somebody for the first time. Arranged marriages, a horrible breakup, and an induced coma, plus his terrible parents, were a complete surprise. Author's note: Get ready for a ride!

More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist - Toto hasn't been to his parents for a couple of years.

His relationship with them has gotten, how do you say it politely? Problematic?

The older and more independent he gets, the more he notices the enormous pressure they have inflicted on him from a young age.

Being the firstborn in a blue-blooded, deep-pocketed family, carrying the Wolff last name around places an immense weight on his shoulders.

He is required to be the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect gentleman, the perfect businessman, the perfect big brother, and the perfect heir.

"There's a lot on stake, Torger, not only millions," his father tells him at his massive and fancy in-home office. "You can't lose focus, this," he gestures with his finger around in a circular movement. "It will be all yours one day, and that," he points to a big and beautiful architectural model designed by Foster + Partners of their new offices and latest and giant factory based in Austria laying on the large meeting table made of expensive agarwood. "Will be yours to lead".

His dad isn't a normal one. Every time Toto gets called into his office, he feels nervous and timid, something that has never changed over the years.

His dad is a businessman first and a father second.

"Every choice you make matters, son. One day, you will become head of this family, an ambassador for our last name. Make us proud," he says, pouring himself and Toto a drink into a beautiful set of glasses. "Let's toast to that, to your future legacy."

He clinks his glass with Toto's.

Being an heir of the owners of the "Silver Wolff Mercedes F1 Racing Team" and "Wolff & Co." is supposed to be fun.

Being a part of that accelerated, fast-paced world full of excess, wealth, luxury, and stunning seductive women, a land with no limits.

Yet it isn't. It's a golden cage that people would give everything to get locked into, but it's still a cage.

"I'm moving to Monaco after graduation," Toto informs his father, again in his office, but years later, with all the courage he gained over the years, he feels ready to break those bars in his cage.

His parents sent him to study university at the LSE (London School of Economics), giving him a spoonful taste of freedom.

But he barely partied and slept around. He was required to be the perfect student, the top of the class, and the ideal college kid his parents could show off in social gatherings.

"Monaco?" the expression on his father's face is priceless.

"Yes. Water motorsports are on the rise. You know how much I love water! I could develop a racing team there, create a new branch for Silver Wolff, and enter the yacht market for Wolff & Co., handling it by myself."

"Before you return to your duty, the real one, this company, to Silver Wolff Mercedes. It will serve you as a pilot. Think of it as a five-year project."

"Yes, sir."

"Good," his father hugs him and kisses him on the cheek.

Toto feels proud of himself as he heads out of that office.

"Torger?" he turns around at his father, calling his name. "Don't lose focus."

What can you expect when you give total freedom to someone who hasn't tasted it before?

Parties, excess, women, all kinds and types of sex, alcohol, weed, everything, what he wanted, he had, he satiated all his appetites.

But at the end of the day, of the rush, he is alone.

Completely alone, with no real or deep relationship with anyone.

Toto built his life based on a "this is just a one-time thing only, a just-for-the-moment" philosophy, knowing that everything in his current life was temporary and that he isn't the actual owner of his life choices.

That's why he is not interested in building new friendships or having a girlfriend.

His real friends are his childhood friends, the kids of wealthy, upper-social-rank families his parents approved of and hung out with.

They are the ones who get him, who know what he is going through. And Obasi, his only real friend from college, Toto loves Obi.

Being the heir of a build-from-scratch empire of a Nigerian-rooted family that escaped the dictatorship, made it to England, and became incredibly successful is a burden more challenging than his.

Obi's parents expected him to make no mistakes, a margin of zero, and they had for him higher than the sky expectations.

The night is fully set in Monaco, and your boss gallery's lights illuminate the sidewalk as the prestigious Galerie d'Art 3816 is holding an exhibition.

Located on the famous Boulevard de la Croisette, it's buzzing as art lovers and collectors gather for the exclusive opening of "Lumière," a small but exquisite collection featuring an array of stunning paintings.

You worked your ass off to earn a spot and get featured, showcasing tonight two pieces as part of that exhibition, earning a well-deserved place.

With luck, a sponsor may see your work or art buyers will acquire them.

As guests enter the gallery, your boss greets them warmly and offers glasses of champagne.

The large room has white walls and a luxurious, polished grey marble floor. It's well-lit, and soft music plays in the background, creating an intimate atmosphere perfect for appreciating the displayed pieces.

As the evening goes on, champagne and canapés travel around while conversations flow freely.

At the same time, you attend the people interested in your paintings while some of your work colleagues sell and promote their own in their places.

Then your world spins around as you notice the tall guy, at least 6'2", whose presence seems to fill the room.

He is looking over the artworks on display one by one, his eyes lingering on each piece with an air of discernment.

His dark hair is styled perfectly, with a hint of messy charm, and the lighting in the gallery accentuates his sharp features.

The Greeks seemed to have carved his chiseled features, perfectly sharp jawline, and strong facial structure.

His suit, tailored to perfection, fit his broad shoulders and athletic build like a glove.

You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest as he moves towards you, his long strides eating up the distance between you.

"Oh! Mr. Wo-" Your boss tries to greet him. She approaches him in a rush, distracted by the other guests, without noticing when Toto enters.

"Mr. Bednarczyk, I'm Christian. It's nice to meet you," Toto lies to you, introducing himself, much to your boss's surprise, and cutting her off.

She plays along while he offers you a handshake and adds as you two lock eyes with each other, "Mr. Bednarczyk, we are glad you joined us." she says.

"That's unique," he points out, looking at the art in your painting, admiring every detail. Your boss takes this as a signal for her to leave you discuss.

Not before whispering to Toto's ear discreetly, "Christian Bednarczyk? Toto, what!?"

"My middle name and mom's maiden name. I don't want all the attention the Torger Wolff name drags around here."

He is right.

People in Monaco may not know what the Wolffs look like, but they have heard their last name and know what type of family they are.

What should have been a five-minute conversation between Toto and you lasted almost an hour.

You told him all about the meaning behind the painting, the techniques you used, your creative process, and more, feeling an instant connection with him.

A couple of other guests gather around to listen. In the end, a French businesswoman buys it.

"Happy for how it went?" Toto asks you.

"Yes! I sold the two paintings I got allowed to exhibit!" you answer as you do a little dance for him.

He looks only a few years older than you but seems full of youth and energy.

"So, now, can I buy you a drink?" he flirts with you.

"Yes, please." you feel your knees shaking.

Accepting his invitation to get some drinks results in a night of passion.

Toto's lips and teeth clash against yours, his tongue demanding entry. You part them, letting his tongue swirl around yours.

His hands roam your body, feeling your curves, then he squeezes your ass, pulling you closer to him.

You can feel his hardness pressed against you, and you reach for it; he groans, deep and guttural, his breath hot on your neck as he picks you up and carries you to the bed in a hotel room.

He lays you down gently, his hands cupping your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples through the light fabric of your dress.

"Fuck, so sexy," he mutters, his voice full of desire. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch.

You are desperate for more, desperate for him. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body responding to his touches.

Toto's fingers work fast, pulling out your dress and exposing your undies before getting them out of the way. He groans as he takes in the sight of you fully naked, his eyes dark with lust.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

He leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You gasp as he teases it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

"You're fucking wet," he says, his hands now exploring your slick folds. You whimper as he circles your clit with his fingers, "I want to taste you," he states, his voice low.

You nod eagerly, unable to speak. Toto wastes no time.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and dives between your thighs. His tongue is warm and wet, tracing a path up and down your slit.

You moan as he explors with his mouth, parting your folds, his breath warm against your clit.

You bite your lip as he flicks his tongue against it. The sensation is intense and immediate. Your hips buck as Toto sucks it.

"Oh my god," you moan, digging your nails in the sheets beneath you. You are so close already, your body coiling with need.

Toto's fingers slide inside you, and you moan even louder. He presses against your G-spot, and you feel an orgasm rising inside of you.

And then, just as you are about to explode, Toto pulls away. You let out a whimper of protest as you feel your orgasm fade away into nothingness.

But Toto isn't done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

"You taste so good," he moans as he crawls up your body, pressing his hard cock against you. "Do you want me inside of you?"

"Yes!" you answer while moaning as you feel his tip brush against your entrance. He is teasing you, and you love it.

You want him inside of you so badly it hurts. He pushes against you, inch by inch, until you are stretched around him, finally joined.

The feeling of his hard length filling you is indescribable, and you let out a gasp of pure ecstasy.

Toto thrust into you, his hips moving in rhythm. Each stroke brings a new burst of pleasure that almost brings you to your knees.

You grab onto his biceps to stay grounded.

Your moans become louder, more primal as he pounds you, sensing the pulse of his cock deep within you.

"Goddammit, Chris. Yes... yes..." you let out, your breaths becoming shallow gasps. Your muscles tremble with exertion, and sweat drips down your forehead.

You close your eyes, lost in the sensory overload, as he continues to thrust deep into you.

Your breasts are bouncing with each impact, and your heart is on the verge of exploding.

You are nearing the end but want to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Savor every moment of this encounter.

"Tell me how it feels," Toto demands. "Good god, you're so tight, so fucking perfect." Toto murmurs, continuing to pump hard into you.

You let out tiny cries, knowing that you are close to cumming. "Goddamn, you feel so good inside me. Your body is pure perfection," you moan.

He shifts positions, his body dominating yours again, and you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands hold your hips, pulling you closer. He kisses you passionately as his pace quickens, bodies moving faster.

You can hear the wet sound of skin slapping together with each hard thrust. Your body quivers in delight, feeling his strong hands grip your hips tight.

The way Toto moves inside you is delicious. He moves deep, giving you long, slow strokes as he continues to kiss you passionately.

"I want to hear it all, every dirty little thought that goes through your mind. I want to feel you clench around my cock when you get what you want."

His words send a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire. You rock your hips harder against him as he continues to thrust, his movements becoming more urgent, more frantic.

"Oh, fuck yes. Yes, Chris. I want you to claim me, to make me yours. I want to feel every inch of your thick cock stretching me open."

"Fuck, Y/N. That's what I like to hear."

"God, yes!" you cry as he hits the right spot.

"Tell me you want it," his voice raw. "Tell me you want me to make you cum."

You look into his eyes, seeing the desire and urgency reflected there, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Make me cum, baby," you stammer; you are so close.

Toto's expression changes at your words, and he looks more determined than ever to make you finish.

With a low growl, he increases his pace, his hips snapping against yours with animal urgency, taking your breath away.

Your hands go to Toto's ripped abs; you can feel his muscles flexing as he drives into you with fierce movements.

"God, yes," you pant, trying to hold on as best you can.

Toto's hips are a blur, his body moving with intensity you have never experienced before. Your hands tighten on his shoulders, your sweat-slick bodies slamming together.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," you cry, your voice hoarse with pleasure. The orgasm is building.

Your whole body is trembling, and you can feel every inch of you tingling with anticipation. You sink your teeth into Toto's shoulder as he continues to pound hard into you.

"Yes, yes, YES!" you cry out, surrendering to the pleasure, giving yourself completely to him. The orgasm hits you suddenly, and you feel your body convulse, releasing.

You hear yourself yelling out his name as Toto keeps thrusting, mercifully prolonging your orgasm. His hips continue to snap into you as a guttural moan tears from deep from his throat as he comes too.

He moans so deliciously as he finishes, firm chest going up and down, you running your nails on it, as he recovers his breath.

"It was spectacular," you say the following day while sharing breakfast, looking at him with adoring eyes. Oh, the things he did to you were just wow.

"I totally agree." he gives you a cheeky smile.

"You seeing someone? Maybe we could..."

"Sorry, I can't. This was a one-time thing, sadly. I'm not looking for that, but I can give you my number if you want to be friends." Toto explains, looking at the dismay on your face.

"Sounds good, better than wiping you off from existence!" you chuckle.

And you two become "friends"!

"Friends" that text each other daily and hang out at any minute possible.

Who were you kidding?! FRIENDS?!

You are utterly into that man. And he seems also into you.

"Well, that was a complete failure." You sigh as you close the gallery.

Only eight people attended your personal art exhibition, and you did not sell a single piece.

Toto is carrying your stuff around in a box. You two cross the street to grab a seat on the pier, which overlooks the harbor and the sea, and hang out a bit more.

"You okay?" He bumps your arm with his, looking at your sad eyes.

"I want to make my parents feel proud of me. I know they haven't asked me for that. They only want me to be happy! But I know the effort they made to put me through college, and you know, I want to be successful so I can help them out so they don't have to work that hard anymore. They aren't that young," you answer.

Toto looks fondly at you and catches the single tear sliding down your cheek with his thumb finger before caressing your face tenderly.

"You are a good daughter. Even if your parents haven't asked you for anything, you feel a need to deliver. It will come! Don't get impatient! No one starts with instant success. Usually, there are a couple of years of struggle before it. Focus on what lies ahead."

"Why are you so smart?!" he smiles shyly at your question, his cheeks blushing. "Can I kiss you?" you come closer to his lips. "I know you told me we'd be friends only, but can we be of those friends who kiss each other?"

He laughs softly before claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. "I don't think those friends exist. I don't think those are called friends." Toto replies.

You laugh. "Damn, you got me!" and after a couple of minutes, you dare to ask. "What is it about me that doesn't convince you?"

"It's not, listen, ahem..."

"I'm single and have a boyfriend job opening right now. There is no need for an interview for you, in case you are interested," you invite him shyly, asking him to please date you.

To which Toto blushes and looks down at the floor.

There's a silence break in which you slowly take distance from him, returning to where you were sitting before kissing him.

"Can I change your mind?" you ask softly at his lack of reply, which sounds more like a plea.

He turns to look at you but doesn't say yes, which hurts you. He can see it in your watery eyes.

"It's getting late. So I bett-"

"Don't leave, please." He sounds earnest.

"Chris, I'm not sure I can only be your friend with these dumb feelings I have for you. I don't know how to be around you without wanting to be with you. I'm sorry."

"This amazing idea you made of me may be wrong. I'm not that ..."

"You are kind and fun. I love those dumb reaction faces you do," a small smile forms on your lips. "You are very gentlemanly, holding the doors open for me and standing up when I arrive. I have never seen that one before! Also, holding my hand on stairs and carrying my stuff around, you make me feel so special."

"Every time we talk, it feels meaningful. Gosh, I love sharing life with you. You are so full of great advice, you know?" you continue.

No one had shown Toto such earnest affection before, not so openly.

"I can be your life coach if you have that job offer available," Toto says. You can feel his eyes piercing your skin. He is looking at you with such intensity.

"I don't know. You, you feel too meaningful, this," you gesture with your finger between you, "Feels special. And let's not talk about all of this going on here," you move your hand around, gesturing to Toto's face and body. "All this tallness hotness stuff you got going and under gets even better," you quickly add, every word speaking faster. "Those things you did to me the other night, Jesus! We could, you know, repeat it sometime or many."

A huge smile forms on his lips before he relaxes again, watching you joke around.

"I really gotta leave, tho," you say.

"Can I at least drive you home?" his voice sounds slightly sad.

"Oh, hey, no worries, it's far. That's some gas you are going to spend. I can grab the transp-"

"Please"

"I live on the outskirts projects. Do you know where those are?"

His father's best friend's real estate company developed the units in those buildings. Of course, he knows where those are! "Yes, I have an idea, but you can guide us there."

"You sure?"

"Hundred percent"

It's a quiet ride at first.

"Gaga, really?"

"What?" he looks at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road as "Shallow" plays in the back.

"Are you a pop girlie?! That's... you know."

He starts laughing at your reaction, judging his music taste. "Unexpected?"

"Give me." You grab his phone from the car's cup holder on the central console.

"Password?" you ask.

"941123"

"Does it have a meaning?"

"It's a birthday."

"From who?"

"A girl"

"Oh," your mild jealousy showing.

"My sister's, not... there's no one else, so you know."

There's silence for a bit. So, you keep searching on Spotify for a song you like.

"Then, why not me? If there's no one else in your life," you ask before thinking, shit! It would be best to stop pushing him, but you can't.

He gives you no answer again, and things start to feel awkward for a few streets while Arctic Monkeys play in the back.

The streets of Monaco never look more attractive as you observe them through the car's window, not being able to look at Toto and feeling embarrassed. Rejections are uncomfortable.

"Do you have or had someone?" he asks, trying to regain your attention, feeling awful too.

"I had a boyfriend for years. He was my neighbor, and he still is, sort of, he moved a couple of buildings away. Let's say he forgot he was my boyfriend before having a new girlfriend. That's a cool photo on your locked screen! I have never skied, and those snow outfits always look so cool. So handsome, gorgeous smile. Turn left here and go all the way there. Oh, you went the other way, ahem."

"You said left; this is left," Toto informs you, side-eying you.

"Oh!" you smile at him. "It was to the right, then." You make a funny oopsie face.

You open the Apple Maps app and pin your address before passing him the phone at a red light.

"Okay, got it now." Toto gives you his phone back.

"Have I told you when I got "lost" downtown? My parents went crazy! It turns out I never left the street; I just went right thinking it was left."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh yeah, get comfy on your seat, Chris. The wackiest shit always happens to me," you tell Toto before sharing that memory with him.

When you finally arrive in your neighborhood, it takes you forever to get to your home because you keep telling him anecdotes and memories of things that happened to you in various spots.

Toto slows down the car, amused and more than engaged in the conversation.

"And on that sloping street we used to bike down! Oh, and on Charlotte's birthday - a girl that used to live in that house in that street - we went to slide down during her party held in their front garden, and I hit the sidewalk there and flew to the grass next to it. My dress got all green in the belly and chest, and I flashed the entire party with my Hello Kitty panties before my mom rushed to see if I was okay and pulled down my dress; well, at least the guests got to know me!" you two laugh heartfully. "And that's me." You point to a building.

Suddenly, your eyebrows frown, and a concerned look fills your face.

"You good?!" Toto asks you, worried.

"Why is my dad in PJs out in the street?!"

A big guy wearing no shirt, belly on full display, not a fit body at all, and pajama pants bottoms wearing sandals was in a rush walking around the street, looking for something.

Toto parks the car, and you get out of it quickly. He follows you.

On your way to your dad, you find your mom, also wearing pajamas, hair a mess, crying in your building's entry hallway.

You instantly hug her.

"I left the door open a second!, just to get the Amazon package inside! And "Chico" went off, he ran so fast down the stairs, we can't find him anywhere! It's my fault!"

You comfort her before getting all emotional, too, and scared for Chico's well-being. Your dog flew the house; he is tiny, old, and almost blind, which is not good.

After one hour of searching, your family, Toto, and some neighbors still haven't found Chico.

You turn around, all desperate, and bury yourself in Toto's chest, weeping, where he wraps you in his arms and comforts you, rubbing you.

"Let's keep looking. Chico must be near."

"What if he got run over?"

"Shh, don't think of that." Toto kisses your head and soothes you. "We will find him, okay?" He bends a bit to rub his nose against yours softly and gives you a couple of brief kisses.

Your parents witness it all.

Around two hours later, Toto goes exploring further away from the park again.

This time, he hears muffled dog cries in the distance, so he follows the sound to find Chico under some tall bushes in a neighbor's open yard.

His little leg got stuck between the big branches, so Toto rushes to get him out and leave before he gets in trouble.

He returns to your building with Chico in his arms, who looks even smaller in those muscular arms and is all dirty.

Your mom and you run to Toto and pat Chico before hugging the Austrian from both sides.

"Our girls' hero!" your dad approaches you all and tells the dog. Chico, don't scare us like that!" before addressing Toto. "Okay, let's go. I buy the beers. We still can catch some of the game." He pats Toto's arm, assuming he is your boyfriend.

"Let me see what I can make for dinner." your mom tells you.

"Go ahead," you ask them two, wanting to have a time alone with Toto.

"Please, give me a chance. I promise you won't regret me," you beg him.

He nods.

Toto can't keep ignoring his feelings for you, which is reckless, before you two kiss while leaning on Toto's black Mercedes car - the one he told you he got lucky to inherit from his late godfather - and while holding hands.

"Honey?!" your mom calls you from the window on the second floor. Your apartment faces the street and a small grass patch. "Can you go get some cheese?"

"And more beers!" you hear your parent scream from inside. You have that bad habit of doing that.

Your relationship feels like a dream. It's healthy, romantic, supporting, and spicy.

There are weeks you can't keep your hands off each other or your clothes on.

Everything is soft and tender between you, helping and supporting each other throughout the day's challenges.

You talk a lot, but he is pretty reserved. You respect that and hope that time and love will change it. You want him to feel secure and loved enough to open up.

Toto extends his visit, staying longer after his sister's baby's christening mass and gathering in Austria at their parent's state.

He loves his young sister more than anything in life.

He wanted to spend some time with her and her kids, who were also staying there, but as soon as they left their childhood home, he remembered why he had stayed away.

The following day, at the garden breakfast table, his parents bring up the always-expected topic: "Torger, my dear, your father and I are worried. It's been almost seven years since you left for Monaco, two more years that agreed."

"We need you around, son. I'm afraid you are falling behind on how to handle the business only with your brief appearances with the team and at the factory," his father adds.

"I have known how the business works perfectly since I was a child; that is all you taught me. Haven't I succeeded with the new assets I created?"

"Yes. Monaco has been a total success. But you made a promise, and a Wolff keeps them. Your duty is with Silver Wolff Mercedes and this family. Man up to it." his dad gives him the ultimatum.

"I know it, believe me. But fine, I will prepare everything for my return."

"When will this be?" his father asks, growing impatient at his current lack of control over his son.

"By the end of this year. It's time enough to handle our aquatic racing team to another team principal."

"Perfect," his dad looks pleased.

"There's also another subject we would like to discuss," his mom has the word again.

Okay, this one is unexpected.

"We can't keep avoiding the fact that you have reached an age to settle down with no proper prospects. We think we could help you with that departm-"

"Hold your horses there." Toto steps in.

"Did you interrupt your mother? Your manners also stayed in Monaco?" his father looks at him sternly.

His dad has this really angry-looking resting face, but he is actually quite easygoing and even goofy sometimes.

"Sorry, continue"

"Most of your friends got married the past few years, your cousins are all fathers now, and even your baby sister has welcomed her second child. It's time for you, too. The daughter of my friend Anya is a perfect and stunning fit. She has always liked you."

"I can get girls on my own, mom, thank you."

"Yes, of course you can! You are smart, successful, handsome, fit, and wealthy. What's not to like?!" His mom gives him a look.

"Then, the problem is?"

"That finding the fit for you is not that easy. You need a girl that matches everything listed before to be even."

God! Toto had forgotten how old school his parents are.

"We are arranging this for you," his dad informs him.

"Are you like for real?! Arranging for me a marriage? Oh! Man," Toto's expression is priceless.

"Why are you articulating like that?" his dad looks at him, not in a good mood anymore.

"Like a commoner!" his mom adds. "Didn't we give you higher education? What's on the water in Monaco? It's not doing you well."

Toto chuckles but does not answer. Spending time with you and your is showing.

"Well, it's not like your father and I precisely met on a cruise, didn't we? Our parents arranged it, yet we formed a successful marriage with wonderful children."

"Understood." Toto plays along with it, not feeling like fighting it. They were sort of right.

You go to a fancy restaurant for your one-year anniversary. Toto never lets you pay for anything, and you tell him several times it isn't necessary.

Monaco is expensive for the working class, and you know the struggle. You don't want him to feel that type of pressure on him.

You know he works as a coach on an aquatic racing team in town, which is not a high-salary job precisely.

But he insists, and any hint of you putting a fight tonight goes away the moment he picks you up wearing that fancy suit, looking unbelievably handsome.

You are left speechless, and he closes your mouth with a finger on your chin before kissing your lips and hand.

"Wow," he whispers to you while he looks you up. You are wearing a fancy, tight blue dress, all glam up. "I'm so lucky." Toto lets out.

During dinner, an "I love you" scapes your lips.

Toto gets saved by the bell in the form of a marriage proposal happening in the following table.

You two clap for the couple like the rest of the people at the tables surrounding them when she says yes.

When Toto turns around, he sees you looking at him in a way he wants to shoot himself.

What had he done!?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

He hates himself for being unable to say no to you from the beginning.

While you two make love passionately, you ask him while riding him, his dick filling you completely as you rock your hips eagerly, bouncing on him while holding hands and between moans that he stays forever.

Toto has a full-on panic attack in the bathroom of the hotel suite you went to spend your anniversary night while you peacefully sleep after fucking your brains off, not knowing what to do now.

You shouldn't be part of his life. This wasn't supposed to happen!

But the fear of losing you is equal to his fear of hurting you.

To confess is not an option. God! You will hate him when you discover the truth and that he lied to you about his life since the day you met him.

This Christian Bednarczyk is a facade that hides something worse, Toto Wolff.

"A what?!" Your parents and you all turn to look at him with a funny face, all situated at the outdoor table.

You went camping on a family trip for the weekend.

"What's with all those fancy words you say here and there?" your mom asks.

"Yeah, right? I also noticed!" you add, pointing.

"You went to one of those "big farts" schools?" your dad questions him while biting his steak.

"Baby, do you want something else?" you ask Toto as you continue placing food on the big plate in the middle of the table and still taking ribs from the grill.

"No, love, I'm so full!" Toto rubs his belly.

"We ate half a cow already." your dad colorfully adds, as usual, still a bit of food in his mouth.

Toto and your dad nod, recognizing themselves as guilty.

"I used to read a lot," Toto answers his question.

"That's from where your posh English comes from. Makes sense! Honey, pass Mr. Thesaurus here another beer?" your dad messes around and requests you.

Their relationship is as great as yours is.

Toto loves to hang out with your family. Sometimes, he is even at your parents' tiny apartment, where you still live, not yet able to afford a place of your own, when you are not.

Where they constantly and unintentionally embarrass you in front of him, creating lots of funny moments on both sides.

Your parents knew no shame, and Toto's out-of-touch secret silver spoon upbringing sometimes made him say and do things that made him look like he was from Mars. Not teasing him was impossible.

But all in good spirits!

It's Sunday morning.

Toto and your dad watch the race in the living room while you are in the kitchen sink, blending acrylic paints and listening to their funny, excited little screams.

They are both fans of the F1. As the race is in the final laps with a clear winner and they go to commercial break, Toto goes to the fridge for a can of Coca-Cola.

"Pss, pss," you grab his attention.

He turns to you to see you approaching him and softly pushing him to the broom closet; he puts no resistance.

"Yes?" he asks you suspiciously, standing beside a mop.

You steal a passionate kiss from him first, and as you pull away to catch your breaths, you explain.

"Mom and I are saving to get tickets to the race here in Monaco for dad as a birthday gift. Do you want to come? We plan to have breakfast at that seafood place he took us once."

"The one with the delicious baked coconut shrimp?"

"Yes, the one with the cook owner with a lazy eye."

"Captain Evil Eye"

You two invented a whole backstory in which that dude used to be a pirate in his prime.

"And then, off to the race! We plan on going all dress the same, you know, dad's team."

The idea of Toto showing up in Ferrari gear was hilarious. That man had poor taste in all senses, but especially in teams.

Actually, it was a great and iconic team, but their fierce rival was so it was an instant and natural despise.

"I would love to, but I'll be in Austria, remember? I plan on giving your dad his birthday gift before leaving."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot! Son of a Biscuit!"

"Yup!" Toto says it like you do.

"What are you two doing hiding there in the broom closet?!" Your dad says as he gives you THE LOOK, now standing before you, opening the door. "I would like to remind you, Chris, I'm a police officer and have my gun in that drawer," your dad messes around.

Toto raises both hands and gets out of there and away from you. "I didn't even touch her," he says while collecting his stuff and heading to the door. "Oh, but she did!" he jokes, quickly closing the door after him as your mom and you die of laughter.

"You better run!" your dad says aloud.

"See you at night! It's sushi night!" Toto screams from the street as you and Chico appear on the window.

"Have a great day, sweety!" your mom warmly screams Toto goodbye.

He was coaching today.

Toto hates to lie to you.

He did not travel to Austria. He is there at the race, but at the pitlane in his team's garage, away from the cameras, next to his dad running this thing.

The live coverage crew knows they can't shoot any of the Wolff family members, and they don't dare disobey, so there is no risk since you and your family are in a sector far far away.

By this point, Toto's family has been trying to arrange a marriage for him with his father's goddaughter for months. Her name is Emma. She is a lovely girl, but she is not you.

Toto's parents think they successfully brainwashed him into thinking he is old enough now to settle down and form a family.

Not only to keep the family's social rank and prestige but also to bear beautiful children with a gorgeous rich wife and grow the fortune of his future heirs.

Toto plays along with it, but he is no longer interested in anyone after being with you.

Be dating you is the best well-kept secret that he has held from his parents throughout his life.

Only Obi knows about you. He won't risk his other friends opening their mouths, spreading the rumor among the elites, and reaching his family.

There is no part of you Toto didn't explore, a corner of your body he didn't touch, or part of you he doesn't own.

On a Thursday after work, you meet Obi, Toto's roommate. Since they both share a tiny apartment without privacy, Toto never takes you there.

Obi is so handsome and tall, with a gorgeous smile and a sexy British accent; he looks like an African prince. He is super fun, light-spirited, and a clear best friend of your boyfriend.

Thanks to him, you get to know a bit more about Toto's life, well, about Chris's life.

They met in college.

"Two broke kids with crazy parents," Obi says among laughs.

Then you find out that Toto is not close with his parents, that's why he never mentions them.

You want to know why Toto's relationship with his parents got strangled. Maybe you can help to fix it.

When you ask the real questions, he dodges them, along with your requests to meet his family, even though he has met everyone relatively important in your life, even your dog!

A month passes, and Toto picks you up to go on a date, but you forget your paintbrush roll-up bag upstairs in the workshop, where you work above the gallery.

He offers to get it, and while you wait for him, you grab his phone to put your shared couple's playlist with songs both of you like.

Whenever you unlock his phone, it warms your heart. Toto changed his password to your birth date.

Amidst choosing a song, a text arrives from some "Emma,"

You aren't toxic, not one of those people who routinely nose in their partner's phones, but this one makes your jealousy monster come out.

Why is this girl calling him "my love"?

God, you wish you hadn't opened that conversation.

As Toto opens the door to get back inside the car, he gets welcomed by you, holding his phone and looking mad before asking him:

"Whose Emma?"

FUCK!

TORGER YOU FUCKING IDIOT!

FUCK!

"Let me explain to you, please."

Tears are filling your eyes.

"Wait, not, please don't do that, don't cry," he looks desperate.

Then, you finally discover he has been seeing another woman for potential nuptials due to his parent's idea of arranging his marriage. You are a secret he has kept from them.

"So all this time, I was the "meanwhile," an entertainment for when the real one arrived." you sound so hurt and bitter.

"Don't say that." Toto looks anguished.

"That's why you didn't say it back."

"What?" he asks.

"When I told you I love you,"

"I hate myself more than you can imagine for hurting you like this. I didn't plan for any of this! It happened, and I couldn't be more grateful to have you in my life. You have no idea how much you have healed me. I was completely lost before you, and I don't want to break your heart..."

"Too late for that! Thank you, asshole, for exploding it into pieces." you interrupt him. "I will help you and your parents with that; I'm going to stay the fuck away of your life. I'm a fucking idiot!"

"I'm the fucking idiot here, for not being honest with you, for the lies, for everything. Please forgive! Don't leave me," Toto is begging for his life.

"Does the sorry for everything part also involve me?!" tears are everywhere on your face, but rage is starting to show, too.

"For hurting you! Do you think I regret any of this?! That I regret us!?! You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me!" Toto confesses now in a loud voice, too heated.

"Yet not great enough apparently to put an end to that shit circus going on with your family. If you truly loved me, you would fight for me, for us."

"Y/N, you don't know them..." Toto barely murmurs.

"Wrong answer," you say, lips trembling, before exiting the car and slamming the door.

Every step you take away from him kills you. You are so disheveled that you can't even show up to your parents.

As the weeks go by, you still look like a depressed mess, a shell of a person living life.

Not wanting to leave the bed, shower, eat, or go out.

Your mom and dad are distraught. Your dad even suggests you go to "the looney."

God, he tries! But that is how concerned he is.

It is clear to them that Toto and you broke up, and they are sad about it, too. They considered him part of the family, but there isn't a clear explanation yet.

To touch the subject with you is impossible, so they cease.

Time plus painting helps you heal, and your art becomes more edgy and moody, which sells well. At least a positive outcome of this!

You blocked Toto out of your life. And you are still trying to erase him from your mind, heart, and body.

Five months have passed since you two broke up when a call comes from an unlisted number.

You answer your phone a bit dubious.

"Miss Y/N Y/LN?" the voice of a professional-sounding woman answers.

"Yes, who's speaking?"

"I am contacting you from the front desk of the ER at Princess Grace Hospital here in Monaco" Fuck! Something happened to your parents! You start to panic. "On behalf of Dr. Gastaud, you appear listed as Mr. Torger Wolff's emergency contact. He is curre-"

"Oh, wrong number, then. I don't know that person." You feel a brief sense of relief.

"Oh? But all your information is on our system. Are you sure you don't know patient Torger Christian Wolff Bednarczyk?"

"Christian! Yes, of course, is he okay!?" you feel your heart in your throat.

"We just moved him to intensive care. We need you here as soon as possible." She sounds so calm in comparison to you.

"I'm on my way!"

As the male nurse rushes Toto's IC bed across the doors, the doctor explains to you as you two walk alongside it at the same pace.

"Apparently, he was on the deck of his yacht where he slipped and hit his head. His staff brought him here."

His yacht? His staff?! What?!

"The blood tests showed a high ingest of alcohol in his system." The doctor continues.

But Chris doesn't drink like that! He barely likes beers. Why?!

"He hit his head against the yacht's railing and has lost a lot of blood; according to the x-rays and the MRI, his brain is a bit swollen, and his arm got broken. I need your approval, miss."

The doctor stops for a second, grabbing the clipboard at the end of Toto's bed, next to his feet.

"What for?!"

"To induce him into a coma," the doctor answers.

You feel like fainting.

"I, I, I..." you are entering a state of shock that the doctor immediately recognizes as being used to dealing with those.

"Miss Y/LN," he snaps his fingers, getting you back. "We are losing time. It's the best option to stabilize and prevent him from leaving us. Do you approve of it?" The doctor shoves the clipboard to you.

"Yes," you feel your soul leaving your body.

"Sign here and wait there. It's going to take time," the doctor informs you.

You notify your parents about the situation. They immediately come to the hospital to join you while you wait for Toto's procedure to finish.

"We brought you dinner," your mom sweetly mentions.

"Thank you, mom, but I'm not hungry. Actually, I threw up a bit ago," you confess.

"Let's pray, then." your mom grabs your shaky hands.

After it gets done, they move Toto to an intensive care room; tons of tubes, cables, and saline and meds bags get plugged into him.

This is and looks like a nightmare.

It feels so wrong for you two to reunite like this since you called it quits.

Then, as the hurtful memory of that day hits you back, an even worse crosses your mind.

His parents. They need to know! Do they know already? Did they get notified, too?

Around 3 a.m., you gather the energy to go to the front desk. Your mom stayed with you at the hospital to spend the night. She will look over Toto as you investigate.

This room and the whole private area look expensive. It would be best to ask about Toto's insurance and the bills here. You are already worrying about how he is going to pay for it. You have some savings he could use if needed.

"Hi, miss. Did Mr. Wolff's parents get notified, too?" you ask the lady who called you.

"We only notify the people on his emergency contact list; you were the only one registered there," she explains.

"Oh..."

"But you can contact his insurance agent. They usually notify the patient's family. Personally, I never rely on the insurance people; sometimes they are the worst," she whispers to you, hiding behind her palm.

You look at her with a blank expression.

"Would you like the phone number to call?" she looks at you, a bit confused.

Why would you ask her for all this essential information about your husband? He registered you as his wife on the list.

Only if she knew.

She prints a sheet of paper and underlines some numbers with her blue pen.

"Thank you so much."

After a lengthy exchange with the insurance people and many revelations you didn't see coming, you obtain the number of Toto's father's office.

They indeed live in Austria. Toto's insurance covers him up to millions, a shocking amount, and the "Wolffs" are an important family you should know about.

You check on Google if it's a suitable hour to call Austria before remembering this is an emergency.

Toto appears stable, but he is not progressing as the doctor hoped. There is still not much brain activity on the damaged part.

You gain the courage to hit the call button after going over and over about how to introduce yourself and explain what is happening.

"Miss Y/N, hold in the line for a second. Thank you," Toto's father's beautiful assistant, sitting at her desk, tells you as she pushes a button on the intercom while holding the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Mr. Wolff! I have a girl on the line who says she is your son's girlfriend. She needs to inform you something about Toto. It sounds important."

Emma?! Did Torger propose to her? His dad thinks. "Yes, communicate her."

His dad picks up the phone.

"Emma? Good afternoon, dear. How can I help you?"

So Toto is still with her?

"Good night, Mr. Wolff," your voice takes him by surprise. "I'm Y/N Y/LN. Your son is in intensive care at Princess Grace Hospital here in Monaco. We don't know how, but he slipped on a yacht deck, hitting his head with the railing. The hospital notified me, so I came as quickly as possible."

"How is my son doing? Please send all the information to my assistant's number. We will arrive there soon." He sounds genuinely concerned.

"He is stable, sir," you feel your voice cracking. "But he is not progressing as the doctors expected."

"What doctors? I need the names and the medical records sent to me. We would go through them on the jet on our way there. We have many top-tier medical professionals on call."

"Ahem, give me a second. I'm searching for the full names," you say as you ask your mom to pass you some papers. Mr. Wolff hears other voices around you.

"Is this a scam?!" he sounds mad now.

"Sorry?"

"Whose there?"

"My mom"

"I have no idea who any of you are or why my son is in there with you. Hold," he pushes a button and asks his assistant to contact Torger.

No answer, she tries again.

"Could you tell Mr. Wolff to keep the conversation on the other line?" you answer from Toto's phone.

The nurse just handed you a bag with the belongings Toto was admitted with at the hospital just a second ago. His bloodstained clothes disturbed you deeply.

This would have been very helpful hours before.

It turns out his phone is still on, and Toto hasn't changed his password.

"Mr. Wolff, why would I be joking with something as serious as this?"

"It's unexpected news."

"For all of us, I asked the nurse for the medical records. I already sent the doctor's names to your assistant."

"Is my son heavily medicated, resting, or is he able to talk to us?" Toto's mom is also present and listening through the speaker.

"He is in a coma."

"WHO PERMITTED YOU TO INDUCE MY SON INTO A COMA! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? ARE YOU AWARE HOW DANGEROUS IT IS? THE MINIMAL MISTAKE COULD DAMAGE HIM FOR LIFE IF NOT KILL HIM."

You can hear the screams coming from inside as Mr. Wolff is at a reunion with the doctors.

Your parents and you are sitting on one side of the narrow hallway, and Toto's mom is on the other, right in front of you, without talking to you.

Toto is getting "showered" by the nurse, and you all leave the room to give him privacy.

His mom is so beautiful and well-dressed that you feel almost ashamed of how you look at the moment, but those were the clothes you were wearing when they gave you the news. You haven't left the hospital for a second.

"Mom, could you please bring me some fresh clothes and my things."

"But honey, we don't want to leave you alone."

"No worries, Mr. and Mrs. Wolff are here, too."

"Are you sure?" she asks, concerned because they don't appear particularly friendly toward any of you.

You nod.

"We'll return faster than a kid getting chased by a dog," your dad says, waving and loudly addressing Mrs. Wolff. She scrutinizes him and slightly nods.

After some minutes alone, she asks you.

"Why brought him to this cheap hospital?" she looks around, not pleased with what she sees.

"It's near the harbor where his yacht apparently is."

"Young lady, if you had any involvement in his accident, you should speak right now; our detectives will conduct an investigation."

"Detectives?"

"Well, our son is worth millions, and our family billions, and you, out of nowhere, appeared as his emergency contact, also as his caretaker and the primary beneficiary in case something happens to him." she says, her eyes piercing brown eyes looking into your soul. Toto added you some months ago without telling you anything. "And suddenly, this happens."

"WHAT?!" Okay, this is just not real. "I wasn't even there when it happened, and I had no idea about everything you mentioned."

Toto's parents want you out of the picture as soon as possible. Now it's clear to them you are the reason why Toto keeps pushing away his engagement with Emma.

They act cold to you and yours. However, the hospital and doctors allow you to stay and partake in life decision-making regarding him and the procedures he needs since you are also Toto's legal caretaker, much to their dislike.

"How much?" his father catches you off guard one afternoon.

"Pardon?"

"How much money do you want to stay away?"

"I'm not here for any of that. Please don't ask me that again; it's insulting," you warn Toto's dad, not letting you be intimidated by him and holding his stare.

This surprises them and earns you some of their respect.

Your life becomes being by Toto's side at the hospital, swallowing your social life, job, and income.

Toto's parents listen to the call in which your boss, against all her will, has no other remedy to fire you. You take it easy before returning to shaving Toto's beard tenderly and fixing his hair with a comb.

A brief, empathetic look crosses Toto's mom's eyes.

Still, your parents support you, knowing how much this and he means to you, yet unsure why you two ended things up since you both seemed so in love.

You remain silent under Toto's parents' continuous demands to know all about your relationship, current status, and details.

"Did you were sleeping around with our son?" his mom asks.

"We were in love and were in a relationship."

You refuse to speak more than that about it because it is personal, it's none of their business, and it also still hurts, and you don't want to give them the pleasure.

One day, they arrive with Emma; that girl is stunning and as classy and elegant as them.

She rushes in and places herself on the side of Toto's IC bed before tenderly caressing his cheeks and kissing his lips.

All in front of you, inside, you want to smack her away from him, but you know she is in no way responsible for this situation; she was dragged into this mess, too.

You remain quiet, watching it unfold before you. To Toto's parents' surprise, they expected a big drama.

After she leaves, they talk to you, explaining why they believe Emma is a better fit for Toto than you in all aspects and that if you love their son, you should step aside since you and your family don't belong with their kind.

A couple of days later, Toto undergoes another surgery but fails to stabilize.

Doctors are unable to make more progress with him, so his father ponders moving Toto to a better hospital in Austria or Switzerland after finding a legal grey area in the caretaker clause, which sends you into a frenzy and full panic that they take Toto away.

"Moving him is a risk, a gamble," you warn them.

"We don't see enough progress here."

"And over there would be any different? They can assure you that?" you ask.

"No, they can't."

That idea doesn't materialize anyway because, throughout that night, Toto's condition gets worse, and you all learn he could die.

That causes you to enter into the worst depressive mood you have ever had and look significantly affected in the eyes of Toto's parents.

This raises questions in their mind that you might be more than a side chick and your connection more profound than just sex and financial interest, as you claimed several times, to their disbelief.

Toto needs to undergo a risky procedure. There's a tiny chance of survival, but a speedy and total recovery awaits him if he does.

Your family and his gather to say goodbye as Toto gets moved at the doors leading to the operation room.

You don't know what to say. You're full of fear, so your dad goes first.

"Hey, big guy, once you told us you were strong enough, with those big arms of yours, to take down John Cena, I'm sure you will be strong enough to tackle this down," you and your parents chuckle at the inner joke.

The three of you remember that day you all got in the new furniture up the stairs.

You laugh until your laughter quickly turns to tears, and you break down for the first time. Your dad hugs you tightly.

"He loves you so much, enough to not run away from you and us after that day!" your mom adds, looking at you with a tiny smile. "You can do this, sweetie." she grabs Toto's hand and addresses him.

You are a total mess when you get close to him. You rest your temple in his. "Please don't leave me, please; I love you, Torger," you beg him, using this name for the first time.

Toto's family observes you say goodbye, giving you the space to it.

Before they come closer to kissing his son's forehead, "We love you, and we'll see you soon."

He survives, Toto is out of risk, and he is in excellent condition for a transfer to another hospital.

So you make a deal with his parents to not take him away from you.

They will allow Toto to remain at this hospital and you to be by his side till he finishes recovering fully.

But after that, you will be out of his life for good.

Two weeks later, Toto's health improves, bringing him out of the coma.

Toto's vision is blurry. His eyes cannot focus well, and the light hurts him a lot. He also hears a loud whistle in his ears.

He thinks he hears people say, "He's baiting his eyes." "Yes, he is opening them."

He rubs the palm of his right hand against his face, closing his eyes again before being able to focus more. Shapes become more precise as he turns his head to the side and sees you.

"Y/N?" his voice sounds so rough and crackly.

"Hi," you let out in a cry.

He reaches your face with his hand, touching around, not seeing you well.

Toto feels dizzy and confused. "I wanted to make sure you were real this time," he closes his eyes for a second and exhales. "I v o," he murmurs.

"Sorry?" you ask.

"I love you," says louder. Toto thinks he sees your big smile. "Love of my life," he adds, staring at you.

"Hi, son," he hears his father's voice on the other side of his face.

"Dad?"

He feels his hand on his.

"Welcome back," his mom squeezes his arm and holds it tight.

"What?" he is so confused.

Before the accident starts coming back to him, he tries to pull himself up, but his head hurts a lot, no strength at all.

"Easy, easy," you rush to aid him when the nurses and doctor enter.

"How are those Bambi legs doing?" you ask in a brief imitation movement as you greet Toto, to his amusement.

"Look at these tighs, stronger than ever," he jokes back.

"Strong enough to choke out John Cena?" your dad asks him, joining the fun and giving him a friendly shake.

"How are you, sweetie pie?" your mom greets him.

"Feeling better, the headaches are getting less intense."

His parents watch you interact, still not mingling, but not as judgy as once they were.

His recovery therapy has been a long journey. Most of his damage showed up in his physical motor skills, so there were lots of sessions on walking, coordination, and more.

You have been by his side every second of it.

During his remaining and final weeks at the hospital, his parents see Toto behave as they had never seen him before. He looks so happy, full of life, and in love.

They also notice how well you take care of him and his recovery.

The soft touches you two share and the looks you exchange show undeniable affection and love.

When he finally leaves the hospital, he holds a small dinner to celebrate and thank you for all your support.

It's your first time visiting his apartment. He never lived with Obi, and it turns out that guy is even richer than him.

It's a penthouse luxurious as fuck.

There is a lot of food and drinks, and everyone looks so happy, everyone but you.

You know that tonight is the night you say goodbye to him. His parents give you a hint that this is the moment for you to stay true to your word.

So, after everyone leaves, Toto approaches you on the balcony.

"It's a sick view!" you softly say, feeling the sea's breeze on your face as you admire the panorama.

"I kind of miss Ms. Telbot's awful curtains," he says, referring to the neighbor across the street from your parent's place.

"Oh! She got new ones! They are even worse!"

You two share a laugh.

"Could you give me a second chance? I promise you I won't disappoint you." Toto asks you. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to throw yourself into his arms and for him to take you straight to his bed, but you can't.

"I'm sorry. It's best this way," you barely whisper.

"I know I hurt you a lot, and I screwed things up, but please, allow me to fix it." he looks hopeless.

"It's not that. I now get the full picture and understand why you made those choices. You belong with someone who suits you and your life better. It's going to make everything easier for you. I respected your choice, and I hope you respect mine," you say with conviction while trying to hold back your tears and eat your feelings.

"Why this feels like a goodbye?" he asks, choking up.

"Because it is. You are the best thing that ever happened in my life, too, and I'm so happy we made it through that and that you are still here. You deserve an amazing life; we both do, but we are not made for each other."

As the Wolff family jet leaves Monaco the following day, Toto looks out the window while crying in silence, tears flowing down his face.

His parents exchange looks, feeling the guilt.

A week later, as Toto finishes the recovery exercises he still needs to do, his dad checks on him; Toto has looked like a complete mess since they arrived.

"Emma wants to see you. She is being insistent. It could also be good for you, some company and warmth."

"Who?" he looks confused for a second. "Oh, yeah, the Rothschilds girl, yeah, dad, I'm, my head is hurting a lot today, maybe tomorrow."

His dad nods before leaving, knowing it wasn't a time to push him.

A month passes, and Toto hears a couple of knocks on his childhood room's enormous, regal wood door, where he is staying for the moment, as he finishes fixing his tie.

They were expecting the Rothschilds over for a "special dinner."

"This ring belonged to your grandma, then to my mother, then to me, and now it belongs to you," his mom says, giving him the vintage red velvet box.

Toto looks at it, leaving a big sigh to escape his lips, and unenthusiasticly nods. He seems beyond resigned.

As they wait for their guests to arrive at the Wolff state, sitting on the elegantly set garden table, Toto looks miserable. He is there, but he indeed isn't.

"You are feeling this way because of Y/N?" his mom asks him, not being able to see his son suffering a minute more.

Toto's eyes go up at the mention of your name. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway."

"Why?" his father asks.

"She didn't have me back. She wants me out of her life."

"That's not true," his mom adds.

"Excuse me, but how could you know that?"

"We may have made a mistake," she confesses, looking sad and guilty.

"What do you mean?"

"We judge her poorly. Her family is something peculiar, the father..." she puts a face. "But the love she feels for you is undeniable. You know she never left your side at the hospital? Not even a second."

"She lived in there. She even lost her job," Toto's dad explains.

"WHAT?!" Toto looks now concerned. That was your only source of income! "Wait, what did you do?!" now he looks mad.

"We did what we thought was best for our son, but it wasn't."

"What did you do?!" he sounds so severe right now.

"We... found a grey area... in the caretaker clause, so we thought it was best for us to transfer you to a hospital here in Austria, where we could look after you."

"Away from her." Toto sounds judgy, eyes piercing them.

"Yes, so, she, we, made a deal," his mom continues explaining. "She would stay out of your life after it if we let you stay there until she saw you leave the hospital fully recovered."

"That's why those words didn't sound like hers that night. How could you do that to me, to us?!" he sounds resentful.

"Because we didn't know Y/N and had no idea how strong that bond between you truly was. Her love for you is indisputable." His dad tells him.

"She never cracked under our pressure; she fought hard and fair and did an amazing job caring for you." He continues. "It's our fault, and we are deeply sorry."

For Toto's dad to apologize and for his mom to look this ashamed it was something so significant and never seen.

"So now what?! Emma and her parents will be here any minute." Toto says.

"Only if you had a jet waiting for you to leave for Monaco," his dad expresses, winking an eye.

"Only if you had a ring to offer to Y/N," his mom tells Toto, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head.

You arrive at the gallery, finally back at your job, and glad your boss hired you again! You are so excited to paint in the workshop.

You finish pushing the door, which is already slightly open. Someone must have arrived early, too, but the place is empty, to your surprise.

You don't think much of it. You go straight to the easel with your name on it, pull out all your brushes and materials from your bag, and remove the dust white sheet on top of the empty canvas.

You look perplexed as you read the freshly brush-painted letters on it: "Will you marry me?"

"I found the truth," Toto's voice makes you jump slightly.

You turn around to watch him smile big at you with adoring sparkling eyes before you answer his question.

"Yes"

- More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

Text

Forcing your computer to rat you out

Powerful people imprisoned by the cluelessness of their own isolation, locked up with their own motivated reasoning: “It’s impossible to get a CEO to understand something when his quarterly earnings call depends on him not understanding it.”

Take Mark Zuckerberg. Zuckerberg insists that anyone who wanted to use a pseudonym online is “two-faced,” engaged in dishonest social behavior. The Zuckerberg Doctrine claims that forcing people to use their own names is a way to ensure civility. This is an idea so radioactively wrong, it can be spotted from orbit.

From the very beginning, social scientists (both inside and outside Facebook) told Zuckerberg that he was wrong. People have lots of reasons to hide their identities online, both good and bad, but a Real Names Policy affects different people differently:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/01/22/social-scientists-have-warned-zuck-all-along-that-the-facebook-theory-of-interaction-would-make-people-angry-and-miserable/

For marginalized and at-risk people, there are plenty of reasons to want to have more than one online identity — say, because you are a #MeToo whistleblower hoping that Harvey Weinstein won’t sic his ex-Mossad mercenaries on you:

https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/harvey-weinsteins-army-of-spies

Or maybe you’re a Rohingya Muslim hoping to avoid the genocidal attentions of the troll army that used Facebook to organize — under their real, legal names — to rape and murder you and everyone you love:

https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2022/09/myanmar-facebooks-systems-promoted-violence-against-rohingya-meta-owes-reparations-new-report/

But even if no one is looking to destroy your life or kill you and your family, there are plenty of good reasons to present different facets of your identity to different people. No one talks to their lover, their boss and their toddler in exactly the same way, or reveals the same facts about their lives to those people. Maintaining different facets to your identity is normal and healthy — and the opposite, presenting the same face to everyone in your life, is a wildly terrible way to live.

None of this is controversial among social scientists, nor is it hard to grasp. But Zuckerberg stubbornly stuck to this anonymity-breeds-incivility doctrine, even as dictators used the fact that Facebook forced dissidents to use their real names to retain power through the threat (and reality) of arrest and torture:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/25/nationalize-moderna/#hun-sen

Why did Zuck cling to this dangerous and obvious fallacy? Because the more he could collapse your identity into one unitary whole, the better he could target you with ads. Truly, it is impossible to get a billionaire to understand something when his mega-yacht depends on his not understanding it.

This motivated reasoning ripples through all of Silicon Valley’s top brass, producing what Anil Dash calls “VC QAnon,” the collection of conspiratorial, debunked and absurd beliefs embraced by powerful people who hold the digital lives of billions of us in their quivering grasp:

https://www.anildash.com/2023/07/07/vc-qanon/

These fallacy-ridden autocrats like to disguise their demands as observations, as though wanting something to be true was the same as making it true. Think of when Eric Schmidt — then the CEO of Google — dismissed online privacy concerns, stating “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place”:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2009/12/google-ceo-eric-schmidt-dismisses-privacy

Schmidt was echoing the sentiments of his old co-conspirator, Sun Microsystems CEO Scott McNealy: “You have zero privacy anyway. Get over it”:

https://www.wired.com/1999/01/sun-on-privacy-get-over-it/

Both men knew better. Schmidt, in particular, is very jealous of his own privacy. When Cnet reporters used Google to uncover and publish public (but intimate and personal) facts about Schmidt, Schmidt ordered Google PR to ignore all future requests for comment from Cnet reporters:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/tech-industry/how-cnet-got-banned-by-google/

(Like everything else he does, Elon Musk’s policy of responding to media questions about Twitter with a poop emoji is just him copying things other people thought up, making them worse, and taking credit for them:)

https://www.theverge.com/23815634/tesla-elon-musk-origin-founder-twitter-land-of-the-giants

Schmidt’s actions do not reflect an attitude of “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.” Rather, they are the normal response that we all have to getting doxed.

When Schmidt and McNealy and Zuck tell us that we don’t have privacy, or we don’t want privacy, or that privacy is bad for us, they’re disguising a demand as an observation. “Privacy is dead” actually means, “When privacy is dead, I will be richer than you can imagine, so stop trying to save it, goddamnit.”

We are all prone to believing our own bullshit, but when a tech baron gets high on his own supply, his mental contortions have broad implications for all of us. A couple years after Schmidt’s anti-privacy manifesto, Google launched Google Plus, a social network where everyone was required to use their “real name.”

This decision — justified as a means of ensuring civility and a transparent ruse to improve ad targeting — kicked off the Nym Wars:

https://epeus.blogspot.com/2011/08/google-plus-must-stop-this-identity.html

One of the best documents to come out of that ugly conflict is “Falsehoods Programmers Believe About Names,” a profound and surprising enumeration of all the ways that the experiences of tech bros in Silicon Valley are the real edge-cases, unreflective of the reality of billions of their users:

https://www.kalzumeus.com/2010/06/17/falsehoods-programmers-believe-about-names/

This, in turn, spawned a whole genre of programmer-fallacy catalogs, falsehoods programmers believe about time, currency, birthdays, timezones, email addresses, national borders, nations, biometrics, gender, language, alphabets, phone numbers, addresses, systems of measurement, and, of course, families:

https://github.com/kdeldycke/awesome-falsehood

But humility is in short supply in tech. It’s impossible to get a programmer to understand something when their boss requires them not to understand it. A programmer will happily insist that ordering you to remove your “mask” is for your own good — and not even notice that they’re taking your skin off with it.

There are so many ways that tech executives could improve their profits if only we would abandon our stubborn attachment to being so goddamned complicated. Think of Netflix and its anti-passsword-sharing holy war, which is really a demand that we redefine “family” to be legible and profitable for Netflix:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

But despite the entreaties of tech companies to collapse our identities, our families, and our online lives into streamlined, computably hard-edged shapes that fit neatly into their database structures, we continue to live fuzzy, complicated lives that only glancingly resemble those of the executives seeking to shape them.

Now, the rich, powerful people making these demands don’t plan on being constrained by them. They are conservatives, in the tradition of #FrankWilhoit, believers in a system of “in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect”:

https://crookedtimber.org/2018/03/21/liberals-against-progressives/#comment-729288

As with Schmidt’s desire to spy on you from asshole to appetite for his own personal gain, and his violent aversion to having his own personal life made public, the tech millionaires and billionaires who made their fortune from the flexibility of general purpose computers would like to end that flexibility. They insist that the time for general purpose computers has passed, and that today, “consumers” crave the simplicity of appliances:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

It is in the War On General Purpose Computing that we find the cheapest and flimsiest rhetoric. Companies like Apple — and their apologists — insist that no one wants to use third-party app stores, or seek out independent repair depots — and then spend millions to make sure that it’s illegal to jailbreak your phone or get it fixed outside of their own official channel:

https://doctorow.medium.com/apples-cement-overshoes-329856288d13

The cognitive dissonance of “no one wants this,” and “we must make it illegal to get this” is powerful, but the motivated reasoning is more powerful still. It is impossible to get Tim Cook to understand something when his $49 million paycheck depends on him not understanding it.

The War on General Purpose Computing has been underway for decades. Computers, like the people who use them, stubbornly insist on being reality-based, and the reality of computers is that they are general purpose. Every computer is a Turing complete, universal Von Neumann machine, which means that it can run every valid program. There is no way to get a computer to be almost Turing Complete, only capable of running programs that don’t upset your shareholders’ fragile emotional state.

There is no such thing as a printer that will only run the “reject third-party ink” program. There is no such thing as a phone that will only run the “reject third-party apps” program. There are only laws, like the Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, that make writing and distributing those programs a felony punishable by a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine (for a first offense).

That is to say, the War On General Purpose Computing is only incidentally a technical fight: it is primarily a legal fight. When Apple says, “You can’t install a third party app store on your phone,” what they means is, “it’s illegal to install that third party app store.” It’s not a technical countermeasure that stands between you and technological self-determination, it’s a legal doctrine we can call “felony contempt of business model”:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

But the mighty US government will not step in to protect a company’s business model unless it at least gestures towards the technical. To invoke DMCA 1201, a company must first add the thinnest skin of digital rights management to their product. Since 1201 makes removing DRM illegal, a company can use this molecule-thick scrim of DRM to felonize any activity that the DRM prevents.

More than 20 years ago, technologists started to tinker with ways to combine the legal and technical to tame the wild general purpose computer. Starting with Microsoft’s Palladium project, they theorized a new “Secure Computing” model for allowing companies to reach into your computer long after you had paid for it and brought it home, in order to discipline you for using it in ways that undermined its shareholders’ interest.

Secure Computing began with the idea of shipping every computer with two CPUs. The first one was the normal CPU, the one you interacted with when you booted it up, loaded your OS, and ran programs. The second CPU would be a Trusted Platform Module, a brute-simple system-on-a-chip designed to be off-limits to modification, even by its owner (that is, you).

The TPM would ship with a limited suite of simple programs it could run, each thoroughly audited for bugs, as well as secret cryptographic signing keys that you were not permitted to extract. The original plan called for some truly exotic physical security measures for that TPM, like an acid-filled cavity that would melt the chip if you tried to decap it or run it through an electron-tunneling microscope:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

This second computer represented a crack in the otherwise perfectly smooth wall of a computer’s general purposeness; and Trusted Computing proposed to hammer a piton into that crack and use it to anchor a whole superstructure that could observe — and limited — the activity of your computer.

This would start with observation: the TPM would observe every step of your computer’s boot sequence, creating cryptographic hashes of each block of code as it loaded and executed. Each stage of the boot-up could be compared to “known good” versions of those programs. If your computer did something unexpected, the TPM could halt it in its tracks, blocking the boot cycle.

What kind of unexpected things do computers do during their boot cycle? Well, if your computer is infected with malware, it might load poisoned versions of its operating system. Once your OS is poisoned, it’s very hard to detect its malicious conduct, since normal antivirus programs rely on the OS to faithfully report what your computer is doing. When the AV program asks the OS to tell it which programs are running, or which files are on the drive, it has no choice but to trust the OS’s response. When the OS is compromised, it can feed a stream of lies to users’ programs, assuring these apps that everything is fine.

That’s a very beneficial use for a TPM, but there’s a sinister flipside: the TPM can also watch your boot sequence to make sure that there aren’t beneficial modifications present in your operating system. If you modify your OS to let you do things the manufacturer wants to prevent — like loading apps from a third-party app-store — the TPM can spot this and block it.

Now, these beneficial and sinister uses can be teased apart. When the Palladium team first presented its research, my colleague Seth Schoen proposed an “owner override”: a modification of Trusted Computing that would let the computer’s owner override the TPM:

https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html

This override would introduce its own risks, of course. A user who was tricked into overriding the TPM might expose themselves to malicious software, which could harm that user, as well as attacking other computers on the user’s network and the other users whose data were on the compromised computer’s drive.

But an override would also provide serious benefits: it would rule out the monopolistic abuse of a TPM to force users to run malicious code that the manufacturer insisted on — code that prevented the user from doing things that benefited the user, even if it harmed the manufacturer’s shareholders. For example, with owner override, Microsoft couldn’t force you to use its official MS Office programs rather than third-party compatible programs like Apple’s iWork or Google Docs or LibreOffice.

Owner override also completely changed the calculus for another, even more dangerous part of Trusted Computing: remote attestation.

Remote Attestation is a way for third parties to request a reliable, cryptographically secured assurances about which operating system and programs your computer is running. In Remote Attestation, the TPM in your computer observes every stage of your computer’s boot, gathers information about all the programs you’re running, and cryptographically signs them, using the signing keys the manufacturer installed during fabrication.

You can send this “attestation” to other people on the internet. If they trust that your computer’s TPM is truly secure, then they know that you have sent them a true picture of your computer’s working (the actual protocol is a little more complicated and involves the remote party sending you a random number to cryptographically hash with the attestation, to prevent out-of-date attestations).

Now, this is also potentially beneficial. If you want to make sure that your technologically unsophisticated friend is running an uncompromised computer before you transmit sensitive data to it, you can ask them for an attestation that will tell you whether they’ve been infected with malware.

But it’s also potentially very sinister. Your government can require all the computers in its borders to send a daily attestation to confirm that you’re still running the mandatory spyware. Your abusive spouse — or abusive boss — can do the same for their own disciplinary technologies. Such a tool could prevent you from connecting to a service using a VPN, and make it impossible to use Tor Browser to protect your privacy when interacting with someone who wishes you harm.

The thing is, it’s completely normal and good for computers to lie to other computers on behalf of their owners. Like, if your IoT ebike’s manufacturer goes out of business and all their bikes get bricked because they can no longer talk to their servers, you can run an app that tricks the bike into thinking that it’s still talking to the mothership:

https://nltimes.nl/2023/07/15/alternative-app-can-unlock-vanmoof-bikes-popular-amid-bankruptcy-fears

Or if you’re connecting to a webserver that tries to track you by fingerprinting you based on your computer’s RAM, screen size, fonts, etc, you can order your browser to send random data about this stuff:

https://jshelter.org/fingerprinting/

Or if you’re connecting to a site that wants to track you and nonconsensually cram ads into your eyeballs, you can run an adblocker that doesn’t show you the ads, but tells the site that it did:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

Owner override leaves some of the beneficial uses of remote attestation intact. If you’re asking a friend to remotely confirm that your computer is secure, you’re not going to use an override to send them bad data about about your computer’s configuration.

And owner override also sweeps all of the malicious uses of remote attestation off the board. With owner override, you can tell any lie about your computer to a webserver, a site, your boss, your abusive spouse, or your government, and they can’t spot the lie.

But owner override also eliminates some beneficial uses of remote attestation. For example, owner override rules out remote attestation as a way for strangers to play multiplayer video games while confirming that none of them are using cheat programs (like aimhack). It also means that you can’t use remote attestation to verify the configuration of a cloud server you’re renting in order to assure yourself that it’s not stealing your data or serving malware to your users.

This is a tradeoff, and it’s a tradeoff that’s similar to lots of other tradeoffs we make online, between the freedom to do something good and the freedom to do something bad. Participating anonymously, contributing to free software, distributing penetration testing tools, or providing a speech platform that’s open to the public all represent the same tradeoff.

We have lots of experience with making the tradeoff in favor of restrictions rather than freedom: powerful bad actors are happy to attach their names to their cruel speech and incitement to violence. Their victims are silenced for fear of that retaliation.

When we tell security researchers they can’t disclose defects in software without the manufacturer’s permission, the manufacturers use this as a club to silence their critics, not as a way to ensure orderly updates.

When we let corporations decide who is allowed to speak, they act with a mixture of carelessness and self-interest, becoming off-the-books deputies of authoritarian regimes and corrupt, powerful elites.

Alas, we made the wrong tradeoff with Trusted Computing. For the past twenty years, Trusted Computing has been creeping into our devices, albeit in somewhat denatured form. The original vision of acid-filled secondary processors has been replaced with less exotic (and expensive) alternatives, like “secure enclaves.” With a secure enclave, the manufacturer saves on the expense of installing a whole second computer, and instead, they draw a notional rectangle around a region of your computer’s main chip and try really hard to make sure that it can only perform a very constrained set of tasks.

This gives us the worst of all worlds. When secure enclaves are compromised, we not only lose the benefit of cryptographic certainty, knowing for sure that our computers are only booting up trusted, unalterted versions of the OS, but those compromised enclaves run malicious software that is essentially impossible to detect or remove:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

But while Trusted Computing has wormed its way into boot-restrictions — preventing you from jailbreaking your computer so it will run the OS and apps of your choosing — there’s been very little work on remote attestation…until now.

Web Environment Integrity is Google’s proposal to integrate remote attestation into everyday web-browsing. The idea is to allow web-servers to verify what OS, extensions, browser, and add-ons your computer is using before the server will communicate with you:

https://github.com/RupertBenWiser/Web-Environment-Integrity/blob/main/explainer.md

Even by the thin standards of the remote attestation imaginaries, there are precious few beneficial uses for this. The googlers behind the proposal have a couple of laughable suggestions, like, maybe if ad-supported sites can comprehensively refuse to serve ad-blocking browsers, they will invest the extra profits in making things you like. Or: letting websites block scriptable browsers will make it harder for bad people to auto-post fake reviews and comments, giving users more assurances about the products they buy.

But foundationally, WEI is about compelling you to disclose true facts about yourself to people who you want to keep those facts from. It is a Real Names Policy for your browser. Google wants to add a new capability to the internet: the ability of people who have the power to force you to tell them things to know for sure that you’re not lying.

The fact that the authors assume this will be beneficial is just another “falsehood programmers believe”: there is no good reason to hide the truth from other people. Squint a little and we’re back to McNealy’s “Privacy is dead, get over it.” Or Schmidt’s “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.”

And like those men, the programmers behind this harebrained scheme don’t imagine that it will ever apply to them. As Chris Palmer — who worked on Chromium — points out, this is not compatible with normal developer tools or debuggers, which are “incalculably valuable and not really negotiable”:

https://groups.google.com/a/chromium.org/g/blink-dev/c/Ux5h_kGO22g/m/5Lt5cnkLCwAJ

This proposal is still obscure in the mainstream, but in tech circles, it has precipitated a flood of righteous fury:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2023/07/googles-web-integrity-api-sounds-like-drm-for-the-web/

As I wrote last week, giving manufacturers the power to decide how your computer is configured, overriding your own choices, is a bad tradeoff — the worst tradeoff, a greased slide into terminal enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

This is how you get Unauthorized Bread:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

All of which leads to the question: what now? What should be done about WEI and remote attestation?

Let me start by saying: I don’t think it should be illegal for programmers to design and release these tools. Code is speech, and we can’t understand how this stuff works if we can’t study it.

But programmers shouldn’t deploy it in production code, in the same way that programmers should be allowed to make pen-testing tools, but shouldn’t use them to attack production systems and harm their users. Programmers who do this should be criticized and excluded from the society of their ethical, user-respecting peers.

Corporations that use remote attestation should face legal restrictions: privacy law should prevent the use of remote attestation to compel the production of true facts about users or the exclusion of users who refuse to produce those facts. Unfair competition law should prevent companies from using remote attestation to block interoperability or tie their products to related products and services.

Finally, we must withdraw the laws that prevent users and programmers from overriding TPMs, secure enclaves and remote attestations. You should have the right to study and modify your computer to produce false attestations, or run any code of your choosing. Felony contempt of business model is an outrage. We should alter or strike down DMCA 1201, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, and other laws (like contract law’s “tortious interference”) that stand between you and “sole and despotic dominion” over your own computer. All of that applies not just to users who want to reconfigure their own computers, but also toolsmiths who want to help them do so, by offering information, code, products or services to jailbreak and alter your devices.

Tech giants will squeal at this, insisting that they serve your interests when they prevent rivals from opening up their products. After all, those rivals might be bad guys who want to hurt you. That’s 100% true. What is likewise true is that no tech giant will defend you from its own bad impulses, and if you can’t alter your device, you are powerless to stop them:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Companies should be stopped from harming you, but the right place to decide whether a business is doing something nefarious isn’t in the boardroom of that company’s chief competitor: it’s in the halls of democratically accountable governments:

https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy

So how do we get there? Well, that’s another matter. In my next book, The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation (Verso Books, Sept 5), I lay out a detailed program, describing which policies will disenshittify the internet, and how to get those policies:

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

Predictably, there are challenges getting this kind of book out into the world via our concentrated tech sector. Amazon refuses to carry the audio edition on its monopoly audiobook platform, Audible, unless it is locked to Amazon forever with mandatory DRM. That’s left me self-financing my own DRM-free audio edition, which is currently available for pre-order via this Kickstarter:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

[Image ID: An anatomical drawing of a flayed human head; it has been altered to give it a wide-stretched mouth revealing a gadget nestled in the back of the figure's throat, connected by a probe whose two coiled wires stretch to an old fashioned electronic box. The head's eyes have been replaced by the red, menacing eye of HAL 9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.' Behind the head is a code waterfall effect as seen in the credits of the Wachowskis' 'The Matrix.']

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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bellewintersroe · 9 months ago

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Jenson Button x FamousReader!2009

this is like a second part (can be read individually) to THIS. Here’s just some more headcannons of what it would be like when Jenson is in a relationship with a famous British celeb who’s extremely popular, especially amongst the party scene. warnings: mentions of sex, oral sex, nothing too graphic but I just knowww Jenson gets down and dirty. mentions of alcohol and some drug use? not to glamorise it we all know celebs ain’t innocent ok. for this case 18+ 😇

Jenson is a cutie ok, the more he falls in love with his SO the more he finds himself looking out for her in the garage. Whether this be before or after his race, just imagine his head poking out of his car, or he’s fully suited, helmet still on, glimpsing around trying to find her.

lots of cuddles, he’d keep an arm slung around her, especially if they’re in public where there’s paparazzi- in that case he’s keeping an extra tight grip on her.

despises the paparazzi ok- he’s a polite man, pretty tame, but British press in the 2000s were VILE and for his girlfriend, he can’t stand the idea of them even looking at her.

helps shields her eyes when the flashes are too bright.

Taxis home together at questionable hours of the morning, limbs sprawled over each other and getting caught snogging in the backseats.

drunk sex- especially when he wins the championship, he’s so smug and proud, fucking into her with all his energy, cos he’s world champion baby 😏. lovesss seeing her legs pinned up over his shoulders.

thanks his girl publicly after he wins his championship.

as I mentioned in the part prior to this, Jenson LOVES going on holiday with her, like he’s a bit of a perv when it comes to seeing y/n in a bikini, especially after he’d already seen to many shoots of her before even meeting each other.

never admits to being a fanboy of her but the smirk would say otherwise.

getting down and dirty on a yacht, hidden by a beach towel whilst he fingers her, he has his sunnies on and he’s smirking, pressing kisses to her temple and whispering sweet nothings.

“you’re doing so good aren’t you?” “all these people taking pictures of you and nobody has a clue what we’re doing.” “should put on a show for them, shouldn’t we?”

so mf dirty, his British accent makes it 10x sexier too.

sex in the pool of a yacht, and every single room in there, wants to try everything with her, but he isn’t pushy in the slightest- Jenson wouldn’t ever come close to making her feel uncomfortable.

They’d deffo see pictures released of them both the next day and giggle because nobody would have a clue what was happening under that towel.

can be really soft in sex, like stroking her face, talking her thru it -omfg I need him.

Deffo wants to try like anal, and certain kinks- I feel like she would too, idk when they’re both drunk they’d decide they wanna try something and sometimes it’s an utter fail.

other times it’s just giggly, exciting sex where they’re both eating fucking whipped cream off one another or something.

soft, gentle moans from him, especially when the sex is more passionate, when it’s rougher I feel like he’d be quiet but let out some grunts whenever he’s out of breath or gets really into it.

He’s a sucker when she goes down on him, like he’s a mess omg- if there’s one way to elicit moans from him that’s exactly how and she’s soooo good at it- he makes plenty of public innuendos about this.

I feel like y/n would wear the smallest little mini skirts, like she’s a Y2K queen and befriends lots of other wags at this stage- constantly pictures walking around the paddock looking cool asf.

Deffo a trend setter, but they’re the type of couple in 15 years that the younger generation look at and go ‘they’re together?!?’

as they get older they deffo become more private, but not secretive.

can spot each other in a crowd instantly, when he wins a race you best expect him to practically JUMP onto her, sometimes he forgets he’s bigger than her lmao.

The cameras go CRAZY for this and their faces are printed all over the newspapers.

Quiet, lazy mornings in England, especially when it’s cold out and Jenson finally has time off- the two of them can really appreciate the quiet side of life at home.

makes him want to settle down- but I think he’d be worried at first about bringing a child into the world- they’re having too much fun with each other, but I think they would calm down after a few years.

occasional bickers, maybe they both walk out of a nightclub and she’s storming ahead of him with a face like a slapped arse. Jenson would make a comment and y/n would be pissed that all the onlookers heard.

Y/n and Jenson’s relationship on the rocks?!

bitch the next morning he’s on top of her having the best make up sex ever.

Seriously their stamina is insane so they fuck like rabbits.

I feel like because y/n maybe has grown up in the public eye? Or fame came in her teens, her behaviour can be fairly erratic at times- like especially before Jenson the partying and boozing was out of control, but being a few years older he really settles her down in life.

like not that she’s troubled (I’m not gonna glamorise it but it’s real life) but it can’t be easy dealing with everything and fame at a young age, I feel like Jenson would take care of her at times, like if she gets wayyyy to drunk he wouldn’t lecture her, but he’d deffo have this sad look on his face, clearly he’s worried.

she’s ok tho, especially with him and like I said she settles down and matures a lot with Jenson.

She’d probs smoke weed every now and then and idk if Jenson would like it, especially when he’s so focused on racing, but he tries it once or twice and would probs just fall asleep immediately.

I feel like he’s so cuddly at times, like in the middle of the night he’d just snuggle up to her. So cute. On holiday on sunbeds he’d be so cuddly, grabbing at her and it causes for some really cute paparazzi pictures.

not to glamorise droogz and drinking but them two probably party a lot in the first year together.

Jenson is the type to eye his gf up from the other side of the room, nods her over or something sexy.

hand would start on your shoulder and end up on her ass- so many headlines the next day…

But yeah they’re such a popular, attractive couple, you either want to be with them or want to be them.

#jenson button x reader smut #jenson button smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader smut #f1 x reader #Jenson button x reader

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darling-flora · 2 months ago

Text

main thing 3

lewis hamilton x yn model - social media au

[part 1]

[part 2]

[part 3]

[part 4]

fc : bella hadid

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ynlewisupdates

Liked by lhamfan3, ynfan5 and 69,944 others

ynlewisupdates Y/N and Lewis arriving for qualifying in Hungary & watching in the Mercedes garage.

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ynfan1 them matching is so cute !!

lhamfan2 her little braids 🥺

ynhamfan5 i wonder if he'll ever let her pick out his outfits for a weekend

f1fan2 shes so pretty omg

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ynlewisupdates

Liked by lhamfan3, ynfan5 and 169,944 others

ynlewisupdates Yn and Lewis arriving for the race in Hungary & after the race y/n and y/n's sister leaving the track.

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ynfan1 y/n waving at the camera is so cute omfg 😭

↳ynhamfan44 the photographer said y/n gave him an umbrella when it was a rainy quali in canada and always waves at him then said she was his favorite wag 😭 ↳ynhamfan44 also when he posts pics of y/n at the races an people are mean in his comments he defends her everytime ☺ ↳ynfan1 stoppp thats so sweet 🥺

lhamfan82 they always look so good !!

mercfan63 she should be with lewis after that race 😒

↳lhamfan1 i think he'll be fine.... he's a grown man

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lewishamilton

Liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 19,159,944 others

lewishamilton Not the day we were hoping for, but leaving the weekend with a pole position and good points for the team. Mostly, I want to big up the fans who came out and showed love. Can’t thank you enough for the energy you all bring to every race. We’re not there yet, but it’s coming ⚡️

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yourinstagram ❤❤

↳lewishamilton thank you for being you, i love you !!! ❤ ↳ynhamfan4 when will it be me 😢

fencer 104 !!! lets goooo

↳yourinstagram 104 win next !! ↳fencer yep yep iktr

georgerussell63 Congrats on 104 podiums 🎉👊🏼

liked by lewishamilton

lhamfan1 wait since when does mercedes have a partnership with kin ???

↳lhamfan2 they don't, y/n is a co founder so i think lewis just has an unlimited supply for her and him lol

yoursister We had a great time !!

liked by lewishamilton

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ynlewisupdates

Liked by lhamfan3, ynfan5 and 69,944 others

ynlewisupdates Y/N and Lewis on a yacht and jet skiing in Nice, France.

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ynlewisupdates

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ynlewisupdates Y/N and Lewis arriving for dinner in Paris, France.

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lhamfan1 oh they look too good

ynhamfan2 PARENTS !! 😭

ynfan3 just casually serving so much cvnt

lhamfan5 they paid for dinner with their face cards

ynhamfan7 the most iconic couple in years tbh

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yourinstagram

Liked by lewishamilton, devonleecarlson and 16,159,944 others

yourinstagram france ❤

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lhamfan55 omg vacation with the family is so cute

↳lhamfan44 i smell a proposal 💍 ↳lhamfan55 nah its too soon ↳lhamfan44 maybe in 2024 🤷‍♀️ ↳lhamfan55 ehhh maybe

ynfan1 they are parents to millions

lewishamilton wouldn't want to be there with anyone else ❤

↳yourinstagram love you bby !! 😘

yoursister what a lovely time !! ❤

devonleecarlson prettiest girl

lhamfan2 why did he spent so much of his summer with y/n ??

↳lhamfan4 ??? she's his girlfriend 😭 ↳lhamfan4 but she's also going to be missing two races so maybe he wanted to spent some more time with her 🤷‍♀️

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lewishamilton

Liked by yourinstagram, georgerussell63 and 19,159,944 others

lewishamilton Summer in France ✔

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ynfan81 that should be me with y/n 😔

lhamfan2 bro who takes all these sick ass pictures of lewis ???

↳lewishamilton my pretty girlfriend y/n ↳mercedesamgf1 We might have to hire y/n ↳yourinstagram i'd love for my job to be taking pictures of lewis 🥰

yourinstagram love you mi amor 😘

↳lewishamilton love you my pretty girl 💋

ynfan1 hottest couple out there !!

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ynlewisupdates

Liked by lhamfan3, ynfan5 and 69,944 others

ynlewisupdates Y/N and Lewis arriving for qualifying in Singapore.

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ynlewisupdates

Liked by lhamfan3, ynfan5 and 69,944 others

ynlewisupdates Y/N and Lewis arriving for the race in Singapore.

view all comments

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yourinstagram

Liked by lewishamilton, devonleecarlson and 10,159,944 others

yourinstagram singapore was a treat !!

view all comments

lhamfan28 best wag out there !!!

yoursister if your gonna do anything you're gonna look good 🤭

↳yourinstagram that's all you mama😚

lhamfan81 love them more them they'll ever know

lewishamilton i love you so so so much !! 😘❤

↳yourinstagram i love you more than you'll ever know cutie !!!!!!! 🥰

ynlvrr44 i love seeing y/n so happy !!

devonleecarlson most perfect girl in the world 🪐🌍

liked by yourinstagram

ynfan81 oh to be y/n kissing lewis' helmet after a race 😭

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344 notes · View notes

hockeyshmockey · 1 year ago

Text

Charles Leclerc SMAU

summary: in which charles and lewis' best friend are anything but discreet. charles leclerc x yn

warnings: none!!

liked by lewishamilton, susiewolff and 52,293 others

Yourusername my king roscoe Nicholas Stewart Hamilton 🥹

view 2,830 comments

Lewishamilton stop giving him middle names??

carmenmundt you. in the paddock. with roscoe. when?

yourusername after summer break I promise!

user oh to be yn

georgerussel you don’t need to come to the paddock really

Yourusername awwww scared I’ll steal your girl?

carmenmundt there’s no competition, she wins babe, sorry

liked by charlesleclerc

liked by mickschumacher, f1gridgossip and 58,293 others

yourusername it’s hard work being an icon and a legend

view 23,283 comments

landonorris so true, just ask roscoe!

yourusername ok fair

charlesleclerc true

user nah what is Charles doing here, this one isn’t friends with his ex

lewishamilton please come back to the garage, you took my dog?

yourusername I think you’re the only one who hasn’t realized we co parent at this point

twitter

forzaferrari

No bc why is Charles hanging w Lewis and roscoe recently?

leclercStan

I’m calling it now he’s with yn

lh44

That’s a reach my guy

Forzaferrari

no wait bc why does that kind of add up????

liked by roscoelovescoco, landonorris and 59,202 others

location Monaco

yourusername smize!

view 12,393 comments

Carla.brocker so stunning!

user hmmmmmm

arthurleclerc you may be my new favorite partner in crime

charlesleclerc nice photo!

user lmao Charles you can be a little more dry

liked by lh44, f1gridgossip and 1,490,283 others

charlesleclerc a good time had by all but now it’s back to racing

view 502,820 comments

yourusername life alert

yourusername I’ve fallen and I can’t get up

user nah bc yn is so real for that

arthurleclerc put on some clothes

liked by 9,203 users

F1gridgossip sent in! A fan spotted Mr Charles leclerc in Monaco today walking with his arm around a mystery blonde. This follows reports that a blonde also spent the day on his yacht with his family over the break. Could he be off the market once more?

view 672 comments

user tell me that’s not yn

user gotta be her!!!

user I swear I saw her walking roscoe and meeting up with a familiar looking brunette

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz and 68,829 others

yourusername like will smith said: keep my wife’s name out your mouth!

view 22,383 comments

Lewishamilton I really don’t know what you were trying to do here

user gurrlllll

charlesleclerc bebe🫶🏻

Yourusername I was going for mysterious but okay then

#f1 #formula one imagine #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 driver #f1 driver imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 driver #imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #instagram edit #instagram #smau

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luxuryyachtcharters · 2 months ago

Text

#luxury yachts for business meeting #Mediterranean Luxury Yacht Charters #luxury yacht charter in the Mediterranean #mediterranean yacht charter #yachting and co

0 notes

uniquexusposts · 4 months ago

Text

Below Deck | C. Leclerc (1)

Summary: Y/n and Charles had broken up a few weeks ago. Y/n thought it was a good idea to enter the yachting world to get over the break up, but suddenly he shows up at the last charter of the season. How will they cope with it? Words: 3018 Read the story that was based off the one shot here Part 2

"All crew, all crew, the guests are arriving in ten minutes. Please, change into your polos," the captain said on the radio.

"Copied."

The final charter of Y/n's yachting season was about to start. She and her roommate Bobbie were standing in their cabins, changing into their polos. It was silence; they both were tired and glad this was their last charter.

Y/n was the third stew on this yacht, and Bobbie was the second stew. And you know what they say? They either love or hate each other. This time, they liked each other. However, they had a mixed relationship with their boss, the first stew: Helena.

"Last charter, girl," Bobbie said and put on perfume.

"Last charter," Y/n breathed. "Two more nights, three more days."

The entire crew made their way to the deck. They were standing in a line; Bobbie was holding the plate with the glasses of champagne, and Y/n had the plate with refreshing towels. The captain and chief stew were standing on the dock.

"It's the last one," Otis sang and did a silly dance. "The last, last, last." He was a deckhand.

Everyone laughed and danced along with him.

"I really hope the guests are chill, down to earth, not too demanding," Felix said hopefully, the engineer.

"And otherwise, we make the best of it," Bobbie said.

Six people were walking toward the yacht. The crew quickly peeked at their new guests but couldn't stare. Y/n looked at the group that had now arrived at the captain and chief stew. Her face straightened when she saw who the group was.

"Oh, my god, that is Max Verstappen," Felix whispered; the fanboy was getting exposed now.

"Who?" Otis asked.

"Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 2021 world champion," Felix said.

"I don't watch Formula 1," Otis huffed.

Eyes widened. "Is that Carlos Sainz? And Pierre Gasly?" Bobbie noticed them now.

"And Charles Leclerc," Luca said impressively, he was the bosun.

Charles Leclerc.

Y/n could feel her heartbeat rise, and her lips parted. There is no way that this is happening. Everything around her faded away for a moment. Her mind was blank. She barely knew how to stand up straight anymore, or how to breathe. The sun on her skin made her sweat even more. It is the last one, you can do it. Y/n returned to reality, cleared her throat and put her best fake smile on her face.

"Hello, welcome on board," Luca warmly smiled. "My name is Luca, I'm your bosun."

Max was the first one in the group, making clear he was the primary guest. He introduced himself to everyone and shook their hands. Kelly, his girlfriend and co-primary guest, was walking behind him. Followed by Carlos and his girlfriend, Pierre and...and Charles.

When Charles was standing in front of Y/n, their eyes met. She had not looked in those eyes for six weeks. Those blue-coloured eyes with touches of other more beautiful colours... However, the smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes. To her own experience, this moment took forever, but in reality, it was just a few seconds.

"I'm Y/n; nice to meet you," Y/n smiled. Well, she forced a smile. And it did not feel natural or convincing. She had to stay in her role. "Welcome on board. Would you like to have a refreshing towel?" She was the second to last person in the line.

Pain. She is acting like nothing happened. Charles swallowed hard. "Yes, thank you," he managed to say. He grabbed a towel and moved to the next person. He tried to listen to her words; he filtered her name: Bobbie. She offered him a glass of champagne. "Thank you, I'm Charles."

The captain was explaining a few things about the yacht. The guests were looking at Y/n, they knew her. And Y/n knew them personally. Y/n looked away from everyone, she could feel the judgy looks. Nobody knew she was here, doing this job. She went off the radar six weeks ago. They all looked back at the captain and first stew when they announced the yacht tour would begin.

Everyone but the captain and first stew walked off the boat to get the guest's luggage.

"I really cannot believe we have F1 drivers as guests," Felix cried. "I cannot believe that they shook my hand."

"Dude, chill," Otis smirked.

"I think they will be chill," Bobbie said. "They look chill and give off a relaxing vibe."

Felix grabbed a suitcase and a backpack. "Do you watch F1, Y/n?" He gave the two pieces to her.

The crew developed a thing during the season: adding Y/n's name at the end of every sentence meant for her.

"No, I don't, and I won't," she coldly replied and walked back on the boat with the luggage.

Oh, my, I can't wait for the moment they walk off this boat. She dragged the luggage down to the guest bedrooms. Everyone was so hyped to serve the drivers, but Y/n only wanted to cry.

"What is the room division?" Y/n asked Luca.

"Master is Max and Kelly, left is Carlos and Rebecca, and right is Pierre and Charles." Luca stepped toward her to check the labels. "You have Charles his luggage. You have to go to the right, Y/n."

You've got to be kidding me. "Perfect," she replied and opened the right cabin door. On the preference sheets, they requested to unpack their luggage, but Y/n knew Charles hated it when people touched his stuff. She bit her lip and placed his backpack on the chair. For a moment, she looked at it. It was just a black backpack, it was simple, and somehow she adored it a lot. "Fuck," Y/n whispered and took a deep breath. She stepped away from his suitcase and lifted it to be placed on the luggage chair. The only thing she did was open his suitcase.

"Oh, o, I'm sorry."

Y/n turned around, and she gasped for air. "My goodness, Pierre. You scared me," she whispered.

"Sorry," he whispered back. "I had no idea that you worked on a yacht now." The Frenchman entered the room. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," she softly said. Pierre stepped towards her and gave her a hug; he was not only a good friend of Charles, but also a good friend of Y/n. "How are you?"

"Good, I'm good, now I know where my friend hangs out."

She weakly smiled.

"Is everything good in here?" Helena entered the cabin with Pierre's luggage. The fake smile appeared on her face, but she looked judgemental at her stew.

Pierre smiled. "Yes, absolutely. I was asking Bobbie to help me with unpacking my suitcase." He pointed at Y/n.

Helena slowly nodded. "Perfect. Y/n, can you help me at the bar if you're done unpacking the suitcase?" She put the accent on 'Y/n'.

It made Pierre chuckle.

"Yes, absolutely." Then Y/n realised she answered the exact same as Pierre. Helena walked away. "Bobbie? Seriously, Pierre?" She wanted to grab his suitcase, but he was first.

"Neh, neh, neh, you're not doing this. I can do it myself," he said and closed the door behind him. "You sit, I talk, you listen," he said and opened his suitcase. "And I had to say a your name wrong, I don't know you."

"Oh, god." Y/n sat down on the free chair. She looked at Pierre. An empty feeling entered her body. "I don't know if I can do it, Pierre," she hopelessly said.

"Then don't pay attention to him."

"How?" She shot back. "Did you know how hard it was to not burst into tears when I saw it were you all who came? Pierre, I'm not ready to face him yet."

"And what do you want to do now? You can't walk away, we're already sailing away."

Y/n groaned, annoyed.

"But Y/n, why did you go off the radar? I was worried."

"Yachting," Y/n simply replied. "Working my arse off." She got up; it didn't feel right to be in a room and doing nothing. "I barely have time to keep up with everything. On my breaks, I do a power nap. On days off, I'm just enjoying my free time-" She got cut off by a radio message for her. She replied straight away. "I gotta go, we will speak later."

"Yes, of course. I'm happy to see that you're doing fine, Y/n," Pierre mentioned. "This is something I do not have to worry about anymore."

Her fingers were wrapped around the doorknob, she only smiled weakly. She opened the door. "And, Pierre?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't be like shit, we can't handle more shit guests anymore," Y/n whispered and squinted her eyes.

Pierre grinned. "It really depends on how we get treated."

"Get out of here." She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her. It did her good to see Pierre again, but it was not how she would have liked. Someone wanted to walk down the stairs when she wanted to walk up the stairs. "You go first," she politely smiled.

Charles walked down the stairs, slowly. His eyes were glued on Y/n. The salmon orange-coloured shirt highlighted her tanned skin tone. However, it seemed like she had lost some weight. His lips parted. "Sorry, I didn't know you worked here, Y/n," he whispered.

Her eyes closed for a second or two; the way how he says it will never tire me. "I...is...is everything to your liking?" If Y/n left her role to him, things would escalate.

"Yes." Charles had to switch between being informal to formal. It hurt him, but if this was what she wanted... "It's perfect."

"Perfect. If there is anything that we can do for you, please don't hesitate to say it."

"I will, thank you."

And away she went. Y/n ran up the stairs and faced Helena at the bar. "I will be back in a sec; I have to change into my work clothes," she smiled and walked to the crew mess.

The smile dropped from her face, and she stormed to her own cabin. She closed the door behind her and balled her hands into fists. "Fucking hell," she breathed and felt the tears flowing in her eyes.

Y/n yawned when she walked up the stairs. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and her day shift had just started. It was the second day of the last charter. She was about to check the bar, but she noticed two people outside in the lounge. I hate morning people. This is not a pleasant way to start the day.

She walked to the lounge. "Hello," Y/n smiled.

"Hello, darling," Rebecca warmly smiled.

"Good morning," Carlos smiled.

"God, you're early," Y/n softly said, breaking the character for a second, regretting it already.

Carlos smirked. "You know us."

"Yeah, that is true. Is there anything I can get you?"

"I'm fine; I'm just enjoying the sunrise," Rebecca said.

Carlos nodded. "I'm fine too."

"Perfect. If there is anything that you want, just give me a shout. Will the breakfast still be at ten?" Y/n felt uncomfortable; she was serving her friends. And it usually would not matter, but this is the top-of-the-top service she had to give.

He nodded again. When Y/n stepped away, he inhaled. "Y/n, how are you doing?"

"I'm alright, busy with work. How about you?"

"Happy to have a weekend off," Carlos answered her question.

"I had no idea you worked on a yacht now," Rebecca admitted. "Do you like it?"

Y/n looked around. Yes, her job was to entertain the guests and be polite. But to a certain point. Being personal was crossing the line. But it were her friends. However, how much would it affect her tip at the end? That was why she entered the yachting world. "Yeah, I had no idea that I would end up here," Y/n also admitted. "But you know, it's something else, and I think it's fine for now." And it is quick and much money.

"How many more days do you have left?"

"This is the last charter."

It was silence.

"Gosh, I miss you, girl. It's so hard to not act like friends," Rebecca breathed and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Because I can see how you distance yourself from us."

There goes the tip for the crew.

"I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want them to know that I know you. So I'm sorry if I act like a cold bitch, but I... They can't know," Y/n stammered and swallowed hard. "Because I want to laugh with you, talk to you like we used to, but if I do, I will get in trouble for being too personal and crossing so many lines."

Rebecca got up from the lounge. "I know, I know," she said and hugged Y/n.

"I miss you so much," Y/n whispered, hurt. "Seeing you again, makes me so happy."

"When you're finished here, we need to go out, okay?" She looked at her friend when letting go of her.

"Yes."

Felix was walking around the boat, checking if everything was looking decent. "Good morning," he said. One of the guests was sitting on the lounge, and the other was standing next to Y/n. "Is everything okay here?"

"Yes, thank you," Carlos smiled.

Y/n forced a smile on her face. "I'm talking Rebecca and Carlos through the planned schedule for today," she said to her colleague. "Everything is still going as planned." Felix nodded, satisfied and walked away. "At the picnic... I heard that more people were joining you?"

"Lando, George, Alex and Daniel are joining with their girlfriends," Rebecca mentioned. "Are you coming too, or will that not be on your service? Or do we have to ask if you will join us? You're one of us, you have to be there. This was your idea." Y/n joked about booking a yacht with a beach picnic a couple of months ago, only because she watched Below Deck.

And they actually booked it. The realisation hit Y/n. This was her idea, and she couldn't even join them. Well, on the other side. "I was one of you," Y/n replied. "And I can't join you. I am working. I won't be able to lunch with you."

"You will, we will make something up. And yes, Charles will be there. But you don't have to hug or kiss him. We will make sure you will be sitting on the complete opposite of him, yes?"

"I am so glad that this is the last picnic," Bobbie breathed and placed some plates on the table. "I fucking hate picnics, especially on the beach. It looks so nice when you can just sit on your butt and eat. But it is a pain in the arse when you have to make it look so nice. I mean, the sun is breaking me apart, there's sand everywhere, nothing is stable," she complained.

Y/n smiled, but bit her lip to hide it. She placed the cutlery next to the plates and only listened.

"I'm sorry for my complaining hour, but now we can talk without other people hearing it," Bobbie mumbled.

"No, no, please, share everything you want. I'll just listen," Y/n replied and softly chuckled. "Because I can only agree with you."

"And you know what I heard? Helena was talking to Otis in the crew mess - she didn't know that I was in the laundry room - and she literally said: 'Since the moment the guests have arrived, I have not heard Y/n's name once. Not once. Do they even know that we have a third stew? I am working my arse off, and she gets to do nothing.'," Bobbie dramatically said, and she looked sorry at Y/n.

Y/n stopped placing the cutlery on the table. "What? Is she serious?"

"That is what I heard..."

This could either be the truth or a lie to create drama. "I work my arse off, she is the one who does nothing. She only makes out with Otis and lets us do the work. She can kiss my arse. Whatever. Just one more day and it is over," Y/n defended herself. "I'm starting to move to the dislike side. I liked Helena at first, but she's doing weird things and blaming us for it."

"I stopped liking her after the first charter when she screwed me over by saying that the master was not cleaned yet. That was her job, it was even on the board. And suddenly, it was my job without saying shit to me," Bobbie ranted. "She can suck my dick."

The radio went off. "Bobbie and Y/n, the guests are on their way."

Bobbie grabbed her transceiver. "Perfect, thank you," she friendly said.

Y/n burst into laughter and continued putting the cutlery on the table. "You're such a snake."

"Learnt from the best," Bobbie proudly said.

"Sassy."

Fifteen minutes later, the table was all set, and the guests arrived. Bobbie quickly took a photo of the table while Y/n walked over to the tender to help the guests out of the tender.

"Thank you, Y/n," Max smiled.

She gave him a nod and helped Kelly, who was also getting help from Kelly. She was followed by Rebecca, Carlos and Pierre. Y/n looked at Charles and stuck out her hand. She could see the doubt in his eyes, but he grabbed her hand anyway. She gasped for air and saw every memory she had of him, playing in front of her eyes. And it looked like Charles had it too.

Charles looked away and jumped out of the tender into the water. "Thank you, Y/n/n," he softly said and let go of her hand.

"Anytime," she lipped and swallowed hard.

It had been just over 24 hours, and she barely had seen Charles. He was avoiding every contact moment between himself and his ex-girlfriend. Y/n noticed it, it hurt, but it was for the best. She looked down and closed her eyes; she just wanted to walk further into the sea and drown.

"The other tender is arriving, Y/n," Luca said.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked up at the bosun. "Thank you, Luca. I will let you know when they want to go back," she said and padded the tender a couple of times.

"Copied."

She waved at him when he sailed away. Her eyes fell on the other tender, and she put on another smile. Y/n stepped to it. "Welcome, everyone."

"Y/n!" Carmen excitedly said, but straightened her face right away. "Oh, my god, sorry. I don't know you," she apologised. Rebecca had asked the others to pretend not to know Y/n, only to protect her from her colleagues.

"It's okay, darling," Y/n said and smiled comfortably. Once again, she helped everyone get off the tender, and she made an agreement with their bosun. "I will call you," she mentioned. He nodded and sailed away as well.

The beach picnic started.

It was fake. Her smile was fake. Her laugh was fake. It seemed like her happiness was fake as well. Charles couldn't keep his eyes off Y/n. It was so incredibly hard to be around her. How she was pretending nothing had happened. But she probably had to do that because of her work, but still. It hurt him to see her smile at him. It hurt him how she would serve him drinks without any problem while he was freaking out on the inside.

"Is everything to your liking?" Bobbie asked and looked around.

Multiple nods and yeses were shared.

"Amazing..."

Y/n walked away from the table and let Bobbie do her thing with talking. She grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip. Her eyes were resting on the table. I should have been there as well...

...because I am still in love with my ex-boyfriend. I tried to forget him during my six weeks of yachting, but I can't stop thinking about him. I can't get over him because I am still connected to him. We were together for four years, and he was my first real love.

And we broke up because we thought it didn't work anymore.

We thought...

Stupid thought.

Seeing them all together feels like a reminder that everyone has moved on. That he had moved on. I feel ashamed of myself for feeling this way. I need to move on too. But I can't move on because Charles still occupies so much space in my head. It is really starting to annoy me and affect my life. I can't see a way to move on because every time I try to move on, he is still in my head, telling me that I'll not be happy with someone else. This terrifies me because I know it is true.

He was my first love, and he is my only love.

What am I meant to do now? I'm 24 years old, and my life feels so unfinished already. It's so difficult when everyone is moving on, and I am just stuck in the same place.

"Hello, Y/n?" Bobbie was waving in front of Y/n's eyes. "Are you here with me?"

A shock went through Y/n's body, and she looked at Bobbie. "What? Yes, why?"

"You're crying?" Bobbie squeezed her eyebrows together and looked worried. "Are you okay?"

Y/n felt her cheeks; they were wet. Her heart dropped. She dried her cheeks quickly and forced a smile on her face. "Sand in my eyes, no worries," she smiled.

"If you say so..."

"I say so." Y/n cleared her throat and looked at the table again. Her eyes got stuck on one person. Their eyes were locked. All the air got sucked out of her lungs.

Charles saw it. All of it.

Part 2

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess

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