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holllandtrash · 10 months

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fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information.

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt.

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try.

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You.

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was.

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did.

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better.

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point.

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues.

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated.

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word.

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco.

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend.

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you.

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you.

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there.

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you.

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager.

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever.

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen.

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers.

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck.

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about.

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could.

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?”

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained.

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time.

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time.

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked.

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes.

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you.

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking?

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic.

At least, you thought you didn’t.

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.”

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing.

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.”

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.”

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while.

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment.

He wasn’t going to let it escape him.

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you.

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere.

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend.

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could.

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips.

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words.

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth.

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him.

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications.

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before.

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain.

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear.

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat.

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night.

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team.

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time.

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful.

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed.

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too.

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between.

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride.

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car.

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you.

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage.

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you.

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story.

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday.

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest.

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered.

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out.

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner.

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts.

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea.

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel.

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry.

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on?

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1.

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different.

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race.

And somehow, you won.

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe.

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red.

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you.

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team.

He was so proud of you.

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching.

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that.

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining.

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name.

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love.

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it.

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love.

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence.

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions.

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?”

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face.

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently.

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation.

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season.

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it.

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren.

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel.

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023.

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early.

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked.

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders.

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different.

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break.

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily.

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours.

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news.

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Your heart sank.

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked.

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response.

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done.

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work.

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life.

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other.

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you.

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three.

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career.

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel.

part 2 haunted

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo one shot #danny ric #dr3 #f1 one shot #f1 fics #formula 1 x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo au

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bossbtch1 · 6 months

Text

Against All Odds part 2

The GIFs are not mine; credit goes to the respective artist/creator.

Summary : After the ‘incident’ on the gym with Bucky, now you had left with some unanswered questions about your relationship with him. You decided to confront him about it.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (No mentions of body type or ethnicity other than the reader being female)

General tags : Slight smut and pure angst

TW: Strong language, Masturbation (f), Hurt, Heavy angst, Bucky an asshole

Word Count: 7k

A/N : Hey there! Guess who's back? This is the long-awaited Part 2. My apologies for the delay; I've revised the plot about three times to ensure its genuinely angsty. It's about to get tougher before it gets better! Get ready for the emotional rollercoaster!

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

If you like my story, please go check out my other stories here

These are the aesthetic for part 2 (solely for visual representation of what going to happen on the story, this meant no representation for body type or ethnicity)

You were panicking as someone could see you in such state, strangely, Bucky seemed unfazed, his expression steady despite the unexpected interruption. Then, your heart skipped a beat as the doorknob turned.

The person outside attempted to open the door, but they couldn’t. Relief flooded you, thank God Bucky had locked the door. "Is someone in here? You know you can’t lock the door," the voice outside the room chastised, followed by insistent knocks.

"Fuck." Bucky muttered, frustration etched on his face. "Who's interrupting us now?" He released you from his embrace, standing up abruptly. "We need to leave." His hand found yours, offering support as he helped you to your feet.

Your legs felt wobbly, but Bucky steadied you as he handed over your clothes. "Here," he said, helping you slip into them. "Put these on."

Bucky was about to pulled up his pants, when he saw your panties in his hand. A mischievous smile formed on his lips. "Hold still."

Confused, you questioned, "What are you doing?"

He playfully stuffed your panties into his pocket. "I'm keeping these as a little souvenir."

"You can't just take those!" you protested, your face flushing with embarrassment.

Bucky simply shrugged, his expression unapologetic. "Sure, I can," he said, enjoying the playful banter despite the urgency of the situation.

Before you could retort, the voice from outside grew more impatient. "Hey! I can hear you in there. I'm coming in if you don't answer me," it warned, the threat clear in its tone.

Bucky's expression changed, growing serious as the sound of keys jiggling reached his ears. With a swift nod, you both understood it was time to make your escape.

"We have to go. Now." He said, ushering you towards the other exit, his arm protectively wrapping around you. "Just keep quiet."

You finished putting your clothes back on. Bucky held onto you as he walked across the room, looking for your shoes. You were about to put on your shoes, when you heard the same person call out. You could hear he was picking keys to opened the door.

Bucky glanced over at the door. "He’s going see us. We should go."

But you halted his hasty retreat, pulling him back toward you. "Bucky, wait," you said, you blushed. "I don't think I can walk." You admitted.

He grinned, a look of pure male satisfaction on his face. "Here hop on," he turned his back to you. "I'll give you a piggyback ride."

"What? No, that's embarrassing." you protested, even though you really did need help walking. You felt stupid for feeling so excited, but the thought of being carried by him, made your stomach flutter.

Bucky was persistent. "C'mon, I’ll carry you." he motioned for you to climb onto his back.

"Bucky... I don’t know...," You argued, blushing as you looked down at the ground.

"Oh, please." Bucky scoffed. "I can bench press 500 pounds without breaking a sweat. You weigh nothing to me." He reassured you, his arms outstretched as he bent down.

"Fine," you gave in. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hopped onto his back. Bucky hoisted you up, wrapping his hands underneath your thighs. "This is kind of weird."

"You better hold on tight." He grabbed your shoes with him and went to the back door. "Ready?"

“Yeah.” You tightened your arms around him.

Then you remember, "Wait! I haven't got my phone. It's still on the floor." You protested.

Bucky groaned in exasperation. "You know, that's what's going to get us caught."

"Yes, but then they’ll know it was me in here. Turn around and grab my phone.” You ordered him. He did as you told him even though he wasn’t happy about it, gabbing your phone from the floor.

Bucky started walking towards the door. The sound of keys were being turned, it looked like he found the key. "Hurry, Buck!" You said to him.

"Don't worry, I'll get us out of here."

He pushed the door open and stepped out. You had made it halfway through the alleyway when you saw someone coming. "Shit, run."

Bucky bolted down the alley, with you holding onto him. You both were safe until you reached the elevator, and then you could relax. Once you inside the elevator, Bucky kept you perched on his back. He refused to let you go until the doors closed.

Are we good now?" you asked, your voice still tinged with the adrenaline from the escape.

"Yes," Bucky answered. "We're good now."

"You can put me down now, Bucky." You suggested.

"You sure?" He looked back at you. "You're not as heavy as I thought."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood.

He chuckled softly as he carefully lowered you to the ground. You reached up and felt how your hair had become all tangled. Your lips were swollen from his kisses. And you couldn't even begin to imagine what your eyes looked like.

"Thanks for the ride," you said, a weary smile gracing your lips as you recalled the unconventional piggyback escape.

"Anytime, doll," Bucky responded with a hint of amusement, his relief palpable.

You smoothed out your clothes and fixed your hair. You leaned against the wall, catching your breath.

"Hey," Bucky said, his voice softening as he placed a hand on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours. "Are you okay?"

You offered a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." However, curiosity crept into your voice, "But earlier, when we were... interrupted. Who was it?"

Bucky hesitated before admitting, "No one, I was just messing with you."

A wave of relief washed over you upon hearing his words. You stood next to each other, neither one of you saying a word. The air between you was heavy, but not uncomfortably so. You were glad you had finally slept with him. You had wanted it for a while now, but he was so hard to read.

You wondered what happened now. Would things be awkward between the two of you? Would he pretend like nothing happened?

You were about to break the silence when the elevator door slid open, interrupting your thoughts.

"After you," Bucky said, offering a gallant gesture, indicating for you to exit first.

"Thank you," you replied, stepping out of the elevator. Bucky followed you, and you both began your walk down the corridor in the direction of your room.

In the midst of the silence, Bucky took a deep breath, as if mustering the words he wanted to say. "Listen, Y/N."

You turned to him. "Yes?" you responded, ready for the conversation you knew was coming.

However, as Bucky was about to speak, Steve entered the compound, heading down the same hallway toward both of you. A twinge of frustration shot through you as you silently cursed Steve for his untimely intrusion, just when the conversation appeared ready to take a more serious turn.

You couldn't help but wonder, 'What is he doing here?' as your irritation simmered beneath the surface.

"Y/N, about—" Bucky started again, his words cut off as you held up a hand.

"Hold that thought," you interrupted him, your gaze fixated down the hall where Steve was approaching.

"What's wrong?"

"Steve's coming," you replied, your irritation evident. The interruption was untimely, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at the universe's sense of timing.

Bucky followed your gaze, and his face fell as soon as he saw his friend. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath.

You both watched as Steve drew nearer, his pace slowing down as he approached you and Bucky. "Hi, Buck," Steve greeted his friend, patting him on the shoulder. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he glanced over at you, then back at Bucky. “I thought you left hours ago."

"I did, but I had some stuff to take care of," Bucky replied swiftly, his expression unreadable. You sensed an immediate shift in Bucky's demeanor, a return to his cold, distant self in the presence of his friend.

You were about to question Steve's unexpected presence, considering he was supposed to be on a mission with the rest of the team. However, Bucky voiced the query before you could. "Has the mission ended? Where’s everyone?"

Steve nodded, his expression serious. "It hasn't, but I had to drop something off, and I'll be heading out again soon," he explained. "Mostly things had been wrapped up, just one last loose end."

"Alright, good to hear," Bucky said, acknowledging the update.

Steve's brows knitted together, his lips curving into a frown. "You look a little disheveled. What were you doing?" he asked, his suspicion evident in his tone.

"We were training," you chimed in, your voice steady, a lie slipping from your lips without hesitation. The lie rolled off your tongue with ease, and technically, it wasn't entirely false – you and Bucky had indeed been ‘sparring’ earlier.

"Oh, I see." Steve nodded, seeming satisfied with your explanation. "I'm glad you're getting some one-on-one time.”

"It was a pretty intense session," Bucky replied, his tone flat, his eyes avoiding Steve's scrutinizing gaze. You couldn't help but conceal a smile; indeed, it had been an incredibly intense workout, but not in the way Steve was imagining.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Well, alright. As long as it was a good workout," he said, his tone carrying a hint of suspicion, although he ultimately seemed to dismiss his concerns, not pressing further.

Steve then turned his attention to you, his expression laden with guilt. "Y/N, about the mission..." He hesitated, clearly burdened by a sense of responsibility, though you knew all too well there was nothing he could have done differently.

Your patience wore thin, not this again, you thought, feeling your mood sour. "It's okay, Steve," you said, your tone carrying a hint of annoyance. "I know it wasn't your fault."

Steve managed a smile, though the unease lingered in his eyes. "Thanks, but I still feel responsible."

"Drop it, Steve. It really wasn't your fault," you insisted, your tone firm.

Sensing the conversation wasn't going anywhere productive, you decided to retreat to your room, especially now that Bucky seemed to have reverted to his usual self and showed no intention of continuing the discussion you'd been having.

"Well, I guess I should get going. See ya later," you said, offering a half-hearted wave before making your exit. As you walked away, a sense of disappointment settled in your chest.

You could barely walk, your thighs aching as you began to walked away. Unbeknownst to you, Steve's eyes followed your limping form, "What the hell happened to her?" he wondered aloud, his concern evident. You blushed deeply, hastening your pace in an attempt to avoid further scrutiny.

Overhearing Steve's question, Bucky replied, his tone nonchalant, "Don't know."

Once you made it to your room, you sighed in relief as you closed the door behind you. You flopped down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

"I can't believe we just had sex in the gym," you mumbled to yourself, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of the pillow. Replaying the events in your head, you couldn't help but wonder about Bucky's behavior. "Why does he act differently around the team and then like this with me? What's his problem? Does he want me, or does he not want to be seen with me? Is he ashamed of me?"

You're worried that the whole "fuck and don't talk" thing is going to be the new thing. You couldn't help but wish it wouldn't happened in the future. It was great sex, but it would be even greater if there were actual feelings involved.

"What do I do?" You asked the pillow, knowing the inanimate object wouldn't respond. Exhausted from both the training session and your ‘sparring’ with Bucky was tiring you even more, you decided to take a nap, planning to contemplate your next steps once you had some rest.

The nap was short-lived when a soft knock echoed through the room. You rolled over in bed, and then you heard, "Y/N, are you asleep?" Wanda's gentle voice seeped through the door, causing you to frown as you sat up.

Recognizing it was Wanda, you got up from your bed and opened the door. "Oh, sorry, you were indeed asleep," she remarked, noticing your hair messed up. "I apologize for waking you up."

"I wanted your help," she said, her fingers fidgeting as she sat on the edge of your bed. "Vision's birthday is in two days," she explained, leaving you wondering how this concerned you. "And I want to give him something nice."

You let her finish, nodding in understanding. "I want to buy him this present, but I'm embarrassed," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You furrowed your brow, trying to grasp her dilemma. "Embarrassed?" you prodded, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I've never been to a sex store, I've never bought... you know... that sort of thing before. I thought if you could help me, it would be a bit less awkward," Wanda confessed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You were taken aback by her request, feeling both bewildered and unsure how to respond. "A sex store?"

She blushed deeper, her words tumbling out in a rush, "Well, Vision and I have been experimenting, and we've tried a lot of things. There's something new I want to try-"

"Wait, wait, wait," you interrupted, raising your hand to stop her. "I don't want to know any details.” You put a hand on her shoulder. "What you do with Vis is your business, and I'm glad that you're both happy."

You continued, your confusion apparent, "Wanda, why are you asking me to help you? Why don't you ask Natasha?" You hesitated, admitting your own unease about the situation. The idea of going to a sex store was equally embarrassing to you.

"I trust you," Wanda said earnestly. "I love Natasha, but sometimes she's too wild, you know? She'd probably buy me something that would end up on the Pornhub." Her reasoning made sense, and you recalled Natasha's tendency to be overly candid about her sex life.

"Besides," she added, "Natasha's on a mission, and she won't be back in time. By the time she and Vision return, it'll be too late." Her plea was both desperate and hopeful, and you couldn't help but empathize with her situation.

"Why can't you just go alone?” You inquired, trying to grasp her hesitation.

"It’s too embarrassing.” Wanda admitted, her eyes dropping to her lap. "People recognize me, and I'm worried about what they'll say, what they'll think." She hesitated before continuing, "I mean, people don't recognize you."

Ouch that hurt, but you knew what she meant.

Wanda quickly realized her blunder. "Y/N, I'm so, so sorry. I-I didn't mean it like that. You had a mask with your costume, and your name is a secret, so... I'm just nervous. I'm sorry," she apologized, her tone filled with regret.

You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "It's fine, I get what you mean," you reassured her, rubbing the back of your neck. "I don't like the idea of people recognizing me either."

There was a brief pause as you considered her request. "Um... I don't know, Wanda. It's not really my area," you said, hesitant about getting involved in such a personal matter.

"Please, Y/N. It would really mean a lot to me. I'm nervous about going by myself. I've never bought these kinds of things," Wanda pleaded.

You were about to decline her request when she dropped a bombshell. "I wasn't going to use this on you, but you leave me no choice," she said, her tone taking a sly turn.

"Uh, okay? What did you see?" you asked, frowning in confusion.

"You and Bucky," she smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I know all about the secret affair."

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard her words. Trying to maintain your composure, you feigned innocence. "What secret affair?" you responded, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Wanda continued to wear that knowing smirk. "I saw you and Bucky in the gym," she added, not letting you off the hook.

You swallowed hard, feeling your pulse quicken. "Oh, we were just sparring," you said, attempting to provide a reasonable explanation, though your voice sounded weaker than you had hoped.

Wanda gave you a look that said, 'Yeah, right.' "Sure, you were.” She continued to smirk, “If by mean sparring involving his tongue down your throat and his dick in you.”

Your eyes widened, and you stammered, "Wh-what?” Trying to play it off coolly, you added, “You must be mistaken. We didn't..."

Wanda chuckled, her amusement evident. “Don't lie to me. Bucky's eyes met mine." She teased, her playful demeanor breaking the tension in the room. She continued, "and you, my friend, looked so fucking hot."

You blushed harder, but you felt a bit proud, "Well, you can't blame me. Bucky's so hot and so damn sexy, he can make any girl go weak in the knees."

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, focusing on the more pressing issue at hand. "But seriously, how did you see us? Why aren't you on the mission? But Bucky said no one else entered the gym today." A flicker of confusion crossed your face as you recalled the locked door. "How did you even get in?"

Wanda chuckled, her amusement undeniably genuine. "Relax, you're like a storm of questions. Let me break it down for you." She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes glinting with mischief. "First, the mission? Turns out, I'm a bit too unpredictable for Tony's taste. He thinks my powers might mess up the plan. So, here I am, stuck in the compound."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Tony Stark's cautious approach. Your sympathy for her situation grew.

"And about the gym door," she continued, her tone casual, "well, that's where my power come in handy. I can open any door with a wave of my hand and step right in, undetected."

"I'm sorry," you said sincerely. "About the mission, I mean. I couldn't go either. Maybe that makes you feel a bit better."

Wanda offered you a warm and forgiving smile. "No need to apologize," she said, dismissing your apology with a wave of her hand. Leaning in closer, her tone took on a mischievous edge. "Now, let me continue," she said with a sly grin. "I was getting ready for my gym session earlier, and then I heard some interesting sounds coming from this room. I peeked in, saw you and Bucky having a heated argument, and I was about to step in."

You squirmed in your seat, mortified by her revelation.

Wanda continued with a sly grin, relishing the opportunity to tease you. "And then... he kissed you," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "and I instantly knew things were about to get intense. It was quite the show by the way,"

Your face turned various shades of red as you tried to process her unexpected presence during such an intimate moment.

She chuckled, her tone playful. "But here's the kicker, after Bucky noticed me, he didn't bother slowing down. He kept on kissing into you, while he was looking at me. That's when I decided it was my cue to make a graceful exit.”

You were taken aback by that revelation. "Wait so you only saw us kissing? You didn't see what happened next?" you asked.

Wanda raised an eyebrow and nodded. "That's right, just the kissing. But the way you were moaning, I had a pretty good idea of where things were headed."

You hid your face in your hands, unable to shake the embarrassment that had washed over you. "Wanda, you witch!" She was playing you so good. She was just guessing about it. If you played it cool, maybe you could salvage the situation. After all, Wanda didn't know the extent of your involvement with Bucky.

"What? Am I wrong?" she said, grinning slyly.

"Maybe?"

"Liar, I know I'm not." She said. “Now I know you fucked each other.” she concluded, raising an eyebrow mischievously, thoroughly enjoying the newfound power dynamic.

"Okay, we were caught in the act," you sighed, defeated. You blushed a little, "What are you going to do about it? Tell on us?"

"I'm not going to tell anyone about you lovebirds, if that's what you're worried about," Wanda assured, her expression surprisingly understanding, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Your embarrassment surged again, "Lovebirds? We're not..." you began, attempting to deny any romantic involvement.

She cut you off with a knowing grin. "Oh, please. I've seen enough romantic tension to recognize it when I see it. And you two? Well, let's just say, your 'sparring session' was more intense than any training I've witnessed."

"But it was probably a one-time thing." You tried to sound nonchalant, but even you knew it was a stretch. "That's just physical attraction. Nothing more."

"Really?" Wanda gave you a skeptikal looks. "It looked like there was something more going on between the two of you than just fucking. I saw the way he looked at you when no one was looking. It was different. Like you were his. Like he didn't want anyone to touch you, and you were his and only his."

"Wanda, are you serious?"

She nodded, "Yes! I know there's something more between you and Bucky, and I also know you have feelings for him, too."

You hesitated for a moment before admitting, "I don't know... we haven't talked about it." You sighed, "I don't think he wants more than just sex, anyway."

Wanda gave you a confused look, "Are you serious? Did he tell you that?"

You shook your head slowly. "Well, no, not really. He hasn't mentioned anything, and it's not like we've had the chance to discuss our relationship."

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you this. Bucky will kill me if he finds out, but I'm going to say it anyway," she confessed. You chuckled inwardly, the most powerful Avenger, being cautious of Bucky.

Intrigued, you leaned in closer, your curiosity piqued. "What's going on?"

Wanda continued, "He told me not to tell you that I saw you two kissing because he didn't want you to worry about it. And when I asked where you were, he said you were probably sleeping, and I should let you be."

"He said that?" You felt your heart swell. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Wanda nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Yes, and that's why I'm sure there's more to it. I can see it in his eyes. I know he has feelings for you."

"He does? How did you know?"

"Y/N, I know people. I can read his mind if you want, but that would be an invasion of his privacy," Wanda explained, her tone reassuring yet firm.

"Yeah, of course. I won't let you do that," you quickly responded, appreciating her respect for boundaries. "But thanks, Wanda. I appreciate you telling me."

"Now, let's go back to my problem.” she said, steering the conversation back to her original request. “Come on, Y/N, please help me go to the sex store.”

You hesitated, considering her request. Then an idea struck you. "How about we just order online?" you suggested. "That way, neither of us has to go near the place. We can discreetly make the purchase online."

"That does sound like a better plan," she nodded eagerly. Then, with a hint of desperation in her voice, she added, "But, please, make sure it's addressed to you and not me. I really don't want anyone to know I made that purchase," she implored.

You raised a valid concern. "What about me? People will still find out if it's shipped to me."

Wanda leaned in, her voice low and reassuring. "But they don’t know your real name, Y/N. No one knows except us and the Avengers."

You sighed, feeling a mixture of annoyance and reluctant agreement. "Fine," you conceded, rolling your eyes. "It will be addressed to me. But please, Wanda, promise me you will keep your mouth shut."

"Of course, Y/N, you can trust me. I won't breathe a word to anyone," Wanda assured you with a genuine sincerity. "Your secret's safe with me, I swear."

Relieved, you allowed a small smile. In response, she beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you, Y/N! You're the best person ever!" she exclaimed, squeezing you with enthusiasm.

You chuckled awkwardly. "You're welcome, I guess." Returning the hug, you hoped that your decision wouldn't lead to unexpected complications.

She broke the hug, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'll send you the link later," she said, her tone tinged with excitement. Rising to her feet, she continued, "I'll leave you to rest now. You must be exhausted after your workout, aren't you?" She smirked knowingly, her gaze flickering towards the door, "And I bet Bucky play a big part on it too, didn't he?"

"Shut up." You grabbed a nearby pillow and playfully tossed it at her. She dodged it with a laugh before heading towards the door.

"Bye, Y/N," she called out, her voice fading as she exited the room.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile at her audacious attitude. She was certainly something, and you knew this secret shopping mission of hers was bound to be an adventure.

You stepped into the shower to get rid of the smell of sweat. The water hit your back and you felt so relaxed, your hand trailed down between your legs, you thought about how good it felt to have his cock inside of you, how he fucked you in the gym.

You stepped on the shower to get ride of the smell of sweat and sex that Bucky left you with. When the cold water touched your skin, it brought you back to the real world.

"Ow! Ow! Shit, shit!" You said under the shower and quickly turned it into warm water. "I forgot how much this place is always cold." You whispered, and began washing your hair and body.

Now you felt relax as the water fell on your head and back. The memory of the moment that happened not even an hour ago played on your mind, like a movie. 'That's right doll, take my cock' and the sound of his low and raspy voice echoed on your head.

Your hand trailed down your body, and when you got to your pussy, you rubbed your clit. "Fuck" you hissed.

You could feel your arousal growing as you started fingering yourself. You leaned your head against the shower wall and moaned his name. You thought about how good it felt to have his mouth all over your neck and body.

The water was hot and steamy, but not enough to cover your moans. Your breathing was ragged and uneven. You imagined it was Bucky who was there with you, touching you. You closed your eyes and tried to recall every detail of the encounter.

Your fingers were now deep inside your pussy, pumping hard and fast. You could still feel his tongue on your clit, licking and sucking. You knew he liked to watch you squirm.

You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure in your stomach was getting stronger and stronger.

"Cum for me, doll." He whispered in your ear.

"Bucky! Fuck!" You screamed. You arched your back, your eyes rolling back. Your whole body shook with pleasure, waves of pleasure coursed through your veins.

You stood under the shower and breathed deeply. You didn't want to move, the hot water felt nice against your skin. But eventually you got out, wrapped yourself in a towel, and walked to the mirror. "God, look at that" you said, examining your neck.

There was a hickey where Bucky had sucked on it, and another one on your chest. It was too obvious for the others to see, but you didn't mind. You enjoyed it, and the memory made you smile.

As you saw yourself smiling like a fool, you slapped your cheeks lightly, "No, Y/N. Get a hold of yourself. You are not doing this again." But you knew you wanted to do it again.

As you dressed and settled on the bed, your phone chimed, and you saw Wanda sent you a link. Tapping on the link and the site appeared on your phone. You saw a variety of different vibrators and dildos and other stuff.

You tapped on the vibrator and it was in different colors. Black, red, pink, purple, etc.

"Oh wow." you breathed, your eyes widening as you scrolled through the available choices. As you delved deeper into the product descriptions, your intrigue grew.

'Great for solo or partnered play, its shape is flexible so it can be inserted easily, the base is wide enough so it won't slip out and the curved end is made to hit your g-spot, this vibrator is the best and you can't go wrong with it, you will always get pleasure and will leave you satisfied.'

You scrolled through the page, your eyes widening at the sheer array of options. " Jesus Christ, there are so many," you muttered, marveling at the variety.

You didn't know what to pick. So, you decided to take a screenshot and sent it to Wanda. "Wanda, I'm so confused. Which one should I pick?" You texted her. "What kind do you want? The purple one? Or the black and white one?"

Her response came swiftly. "Get both, also the lingerie. Oh, and make sure to get some lube, I need a lot for the toys," she texted back.

"Damn, Wanda, I didn’t know you were such a naughty girl," you mumbled to yourself, amused by her boldness.

"Ugh, gross, I’m going to need therapy after this," you quickly replied, feeling a mix of amusement and horror.

"And I need to bleach my eyes after seeing you two," she replied, her response laced with playful sarcasm.

You chuckled and continued browsing the website. "So much stuff. How can people use all these? Is this the kind of thing people use?" You whispered. You couldn't help but wonder which ones Bucky might enjoy.

There was this one that caught your attention. You clicked on the image, the vibrator popped open, and a description appeared. It was an eight-inch g-spot vibrator and anal vibrator with a remote control. It was a dual action toy that stimulated both the vagina and the anus.

'This 8 inch dual action toy is an ultra powerful vibrator that delivers powerful stimulation to both the vagina and the anus. The soft and silky material makes it a perfect beginner's toy, and its strong motor and wide bulbous tip makes it great for experienced users too.

With a curved end that will hit your g-spot and an insertable length of 8 inches, it's sure will give you a powerful sensation and will leave you screaming in pleasure. It also has a strong motor and 15 different speed and vibration patterns.

This toy is also waterproof, so you can enjoy it in the bath or the shower.'

Then you saw a video of a woman using it. The sounds were really loud and it sounded like it was being used for the first time. "How can she handle all that noise? It sounds like a jet taking off." You thought, watching the video.

Wanda's text jolted you back to reality. "Have you picked the items yet? I'm waiting," she inquired, her impatience coming through.

"Yeah, I already put them in the cart. I'm about to buy them."

"Okay, thank you! Good night!" she messaged, her excitement palpable.

"Good night," you responded.

Exhaustion began to weigh on you, your eyelids growing heavier by the moment. You were utterly spent, and as you settled into the comfort of your bed, sleep swiftly claimed you.

The next day, you woke up early, your throat was dry, scratchy, and sore. Part of it was Bucky's fault, he fucked your throat too rough hitting the back of your throat.

He's a beast.

You then recalled, ‘you loved choking on my cock huh?’ As Bucky's dirty words rang in your ear. You had to admit, that was the best blow job you've ever given. You didn't know why, but something about the fact that he was using your mouth for his own pleasure excited you. You found yourself wanting to please him.

"Fuck." You groaned, burying your face in the pillow, the darkness soothing your sore eyes.

You walked into the kitchen to get some water, you took the bottle of water from the fridge and drank it. You wondered if Bucky stayed to keep an eye on you and Wanda since now both of you were considered as a threat.

You still haven't discussed about what happened with Bucky. What's the relationship now? Were you just fuck buddies? Was that one-time thing? Or does he want more? Your heart raced at the thought of having more with him, you've never been in a relationship before, but with him? That sounds amazing.

After finishing your water and tossing the empty bottle into the trash, you decided to pay a visit to Bucky's room. However, when you arrived, you found his bed empty. Disappointment washed over you, and you wondered if he had been called away on a mission.

As you exited Bucky's room, you bumped into Wanda. "Morning, babe," she greeted you cheerfully.

"Hey, Wanda. Have you seen Bucky?" you inquired.

"Yeah, he's in the gym," she replied with a knowing smile.

"Great, thanks," you said, feeling a renewed sense of hope. You exchanged a few quick words with Wanda before she set off for the market to gather supplies for the day's meals, and you headed off to find Bucky. Wanda wished you luck before parting ways.

You went to the gym to see Bucky. When you reached there, the gym was empty, there was no one there.

“Bucky?” you called.

"Yeah?" His response came as he walked out, wearing only a towel. Despite the serious conversation on your mind, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the way his abs looked after the shower, water still dripping down his torso. "What's up? You good?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay.” You said, clearing your throat in an attempt to regain your composure. "Just wanted to talk."

"About?"

"Us," you said, meeting his eyes. "About what happened last night." He had an unreadable expression, the look on his face didn't make it seem like he was happy about this conversation.

Bucky let out a sigh, his face expressing a clear desire to avoid the topic. "Y/N, can we not? I'm not in the mood." He began putting on his clothes, his movements brisk and uneasy. He clearly uncomfortable with the conversation at hand.

But you couldn't let it go. The events of the previous night hung between you, an unspoken question begging for an answer. "No, Bucky, we can't just ignore it. I know things have been weird between us," you began, "What does it mean for us? I mean, is it going to happen again?"

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his jaw clenched. "Y/N, stop." He warned, his tone growing stern for you to drop the conversation.

You sighed, looking at him with sad eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why do you keep pushing me away?" You asked, your voice determined, refusing to let the matter rest.

"I don't want to talk about this." he hissed, his patience fraying as he continued to dress, his movements becoming more agitated. "I have important stuff to do right now, so no."

"I want to know why the fuck you're acting this way!" you snapped, getting frustrated with his behavior. "Stop being a dick and just tell me. Are we going to do this again or what? What does this mean for us, huh? Is it a one-time thing or something more?” you demanded, raising your voice.

"God damnit Y/N! Just fucking stop! What's wrong with you?!" He yelled, his frustration boiling over. "Just fucking leave.”

Your heart sank, but you refused to back down. "No, not until you explain what our relationship is now," you insisted, your voice steady, though your hands trembled with the intensity of your emotions.

His glare could have frozen hell over, his eyes radiating cold anger, "We are not in a relationship. We have nothing. Do you understand? Nothing." he stated bluntly, his gaze piercing through you as he threw his duffle bag to the floor in a fit of frustration, its contents spilling out.

The look in his eyes...there was no emotion there. Just the cold stare of someone who no longer cared, and it felt like a stab to the chest. "You want to talk? Fine. Let's fucking talk. We fucked, that's it. It was a fucking mistake.”

The impact of his words hit you like a bullet to the chest. You felt a lump form in your throat, choking back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "What…?" holding his glare as you tried to mask the hurt in your expression. This was worse than any outcomes you had ever imagined.

"A mistake, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that. It was a bad idea. It happened because I was stressed and needed to release some steam." His voice growing colder, "it was the only thing that got my mind off of everything.”

The finality of his words sinking in. “It was a fucking mistake. You happened to be there and I happened to be horny. We fucked. End of the story. Nothing else. Now fucking leave."

You had expected this to be just a one-time thing, and you thought you could handle that. But what he said was far worse, leaving you feeling utterly devastated, the weight of his rejection crushing you.

"I just happened to be there for you to fuck? To release your steam? You think of me that way?" You asked him.

He remained silent, refusing to look at you, his gaze fixed on the floor. Why were you still standing here, allowing him to strip away your dignity? Yet, a part of you desperately clung to the hope for an answer.

Every word carved a deeper wound into your heart, yet you pressed on. "No, I need an answer," you insisted, your voice growing more desperate. "Was it just sex?”

He met your question with a nonchalant shrug, his indifference cutting deeper than any rejection. "That's all it was. Yes."

"So, it meant nothing, I'm just another girl you fucked?" you asked, the pain in your voice evident as you tried to make sense of his words.

He continued to re-packing his bags, "What more do you want me to say, Y/N?" he retorted, his anger rising once again. "That I made a mistake? That I fucked up? That I regret it? There, happy? Or do you want to hear me tell you that I used you?"

Your heart broke into a million pieces as the truth of his words struck you like a hammer to the chest. You had given your heart to him, only for him to break it. You couldn't speak, could barely breath.

"It meant nothing to me, Y/N," he continued, his voice filled with disgust. "It was a moment of weakness, and it should never have happened."

You wanted to scream, to lash out, to strike him, but instead, you stood there in silence, unable to move. Bucky's words were like daggers, piercing your heart, leaving a deep wound that would never heal. You felt numb, the pain and betrayal too much for your body and mind to handle. You knew that you would never be the same, that a part of you would always be broken.

"I thought we had a connection." You asked, your voice small, the tremor betraying your vulnerability.

His response, devoid of any sympathy or remorse, struck like a knife to your heart. "Well, you were fucking wrong. You're a fucking mistake, Y/N. You should have known better than to expect anything from me. Now get the fuck out of my sight."

The finality of his words was a slap to your face, the sting of his rejection leaving a deep, jagged scar across your heart. You would never forget his words, or the way he looked at you, his eyes filled with hatred and disdain.

You couldn't comprehend why he was acting like this. Was this the real him? He was cold, emotionless, completely different from the person you thought you knew in the gym, making you question whether the person who had shared that passionate moment with you was real.

You should've known better. You shouldn’t listen to Wanda on the first place, her suggestion was ridiculous and it led to this mess. Your heart was broken, the pain was unbearable. You were alone.

You had no one.

But the rawness of the rejection stung. It was time to leave, to salvage what remained of your wounded pride and self-respect.

"Fuck you, Barnes.”

"You already did, sweetheart.” You saw a slight smirk, “Unless you want more, I can give you that. You have a body to die for.”

Fed up with his disrespectful attitude, you turned to leave, your hand gripping the doorknob. However, something compelled you to turn back and confront him. As you faced him again, you noticed his gaze lingering on you, catching a flicker of something in his eyes, perhaps regret? But then, his expression hardened once more returned to its cold, distant state.

Summoning your strength, you said, "You really know how to hurt people, Barnes."

Bucky's response was laced with bitterness and self-awareness, acknowledging the pain he had caused, "I know, I'm a master of it." He said without looking at you with expression that you couldn't quite read, as if he wanted to say something more. Yet, he remained silent.

The room grew quiet, a heavy silence settling between the two of you, neither one willing to speak first. After what felt like an eternity, you averted your gaze, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, and whispered your farewell. "Goodbye, Barnes." With that, you turned on your heel and walked out, the door slamming shut behind you, the sound echoing the finality of the moment.

As you left the gym, your steps heavy and your heart heavier, the weight of the emotional wounds settled in. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you made your way back to your room. There, behind a locked door, you allowed your emotions to spill out. You collapsed onto the bed, your sobs echoing in the room. You didn't know how long you cried, but it was enough time for your head to hurt. You wiped your tears, feeling the exhaustion set in.

Bucky was mean, he was really mean. You thought he had changed but apparently not. Not anyone was capable of changing. As you cried, you made a silent promise to yourself: you wouldn't let him hurt you again.

E/N : I apologize for leaving you hanging with another cliffhanger, but I didn't want to make Part 2 too lengthy and risk boring you. I acknowledge it might not be as good as Part 1, and for that, I apologize. Rest assured, I'll make it worth the wait in Part 3 (I promise)! On a positive note, who's excited for the groveling trope? I certainly am! Get ready for some intense moments! intense moments ahead!

All the sub-plot with Wanda will start to make sense in Part 3 as it intertwines, and you can expect some moments of jealousy and possessiveness from Bucky as well.

Don't forget to show your support by leaving likes and comments; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 😊📚

Taglist:

@vicmc624 @am-3-thyst @barnesandsteven @naeenae @rainy-day-lady @nouk1998 @cl7ire @oneofthedyingpoets @dnovastark @waywardhunter95

If you want to be added/removed, just let me know!

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #marvel x reader

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leclercings · 5 days

Text

Adrenaline Rush | Lando Norris x Reader

Genre: Blurb

Pairing: Lando Norris x wife!Reader

A/N: another request! This is the first time I've written something about actually driving a car and the race. Apologies for any mistakes.

yourusername

tagged f1

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63, and others

yourusername: It has been a tough journey, but worth it. Thank you to everyone who supported me. All those ups and downs- what a rollercoaster. Can't believe I have the honour of being the first female driver to win the World Championship, and I couldn't have done it without my family, my team, and most importantly, Lando, my sweetheart.

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landonorris: congratulations babe!

↳yourusername: I love you!

oscarpiastri: congratulations!

susie_wolff: well deserved!

racerbia: what an icon!!

“What the fuck was that?” You scream in the radio as you exit the pit lane.

Adrenaline surging high, twenty more laps to go. Yas Marina hasn't been your favourite circuit but it's the last one, and you're pushing towards the world championship.

You and Max have a difference of just a few points, and if you win today- you will be the first female driver who has won the world championship.

There's a lot of pressure.

You drop down to fifth in the grid, with your teammate, Charles ahead of you.

“Charles will make the way for you.” You hear on the radio as your overtake Charles.

Sitting in a F1 car, driving at the speed of 220mph, all you can hear is the sound of the engine over your own breath.

It's super hot. You can feel your body burning and sweat trickling down your face.

You push the car a little more to see Lando ahead of you.

“Two tenths of a second to catch up with Lando.”

“Copy.” You reply.

You're in the DRS zone of Turn 7. You push yourself as much as you can. Lando defends his position, but you're determined. With a few milliseconds you find yourself ahead of him.

“Good job, mate.” You hear on the radio.

You've climbed up to third. Ahead of you are Max and Checo.

“Checo will be pitting in this lap.”

“Copy.”

Checo goes in the pitlane and you climb up to the second place.

A few laps later, you see the yellow flag.

“Hope… everyone's okay…” You breathe heavily in the radio.

“Yes. Debris at Turn 13.”

Everyone slows down. You can see Max right in front of you. This is your chance.

A lap later, you can see the safety car moving.

The race is about to begin again.

You take a deep breath in, ready to push yourself to the maximum.

Green flag waves and you accelerate the car. Max is in front of you, defending really well.

You’re about to reach Turn 7, ready to overtake Max. You try to go into the left corner and he comes ahead, and then you push yourself a little more before overtaking him at the edge of the track.

You whisper a silent thank you.

“Well done, mate.”

Max tries to take his position back. But you stand firm.

You're defending really well so far. You focus on building up a race pace.

It's the last lap of the race.

You've been warned that Max is behind you, trying to overtake.

You push a little further, and you can almost see him coming to the right but you accelerate the car and within a few milliseconds you're ahead of him, just as the chequered flag waves.

“Congratulations!” You hear on the radio.

“Oh my god.” You scream.

You can hear cheers in the background.

You slow the car down.

You won.

You freaking won.

You see Max sliding up next to you, giving you a thumbs up. You respond back with a thumbs up.

You take the car towards the podium area where the Ferrari mechanics are waiting for you.

You park the car, getting out and standing up on it.

“Yes,” you shout loudly as you take your helmet off.

You see Max and Lando coming from behind.

You smile at Lando, before he runs towards you and kisses you.

You won. And your husband stands third.

“I love you, babe.” You tell him and he smiles at you.

You wave at the audience as you walk up the podium right next to your husband. There are cheers. Everybody is super proud.

You're the World Champion for 2023- an inspiration for every girl out there. People like you set an example that dreams can be achieved, so don't be afraid to dream big.

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holdmytesseract · 7 months

Text

Illusions

°☆• Dream or Nightmare? (Part 2) •☆°

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: When the TVA throws Loki on a journey through his past and future, it turns out to be a cruel rollercoaster ride for the god...

Warnings: angst & sadness, tiny bit fluff, a smol suggestive scene, angst, bit of pregnancy stuff, oh and did I mention angst?

Let me know if I forgot something!

Word Count: 4,1k

a/n: Well... I listened to music - those two songs to be exactly...

... and they inspired me to write this. I am already apologising, because... It's quite sad and angsty. 👀 Or to say it in Mika's words: 'This is the hardest story that I've ever told' - perhaps.

I hope y'all like it! 💚

Tagging: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @chennqingg @jennyggggrrr @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @evelyn-kingsley @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @glitchquake @goblingirlsarah @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins (Continuing in the comments!)

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

The grip of the Minutemen tightened painfully around Loki's arms, as the god tried to break free from their grasp - in vain. He didn't stand a chance against four of them; dragging him down one of the seemingly endless corridors of the TVA.

"Where are they taking me?!" Loki screamed over his shoulder, trying to reach the man in the brown suit with grey-blonde hair and moustache. "Mobius, where are you taking me!" The god received no answer. Not even as the Minutemen hauled him into a big room. It looked familiar, yet different.

While Loki still struggled against the men's harsh grip, he saw Mobius tapping away on his TemPad - until a well known orange 'door' opened. The TVA agent nodded at the Minutemen, who started to move once more - straight towards the portal. "Mobius! Please!" Again, no answer; causing Loki's patience to wear thin. "I demand to know what this is!"

Shortly before the god's body could touch the orange barrier, they stopped - and Mobius appeared in Loki's field of view. "That happens when you break a friend's trust, Loki," he said; stepping closer. His face was stern, but his eyes were filled with a mixture of disappointment and hurt. "I don't want to do this, but you leave me no other choice."

With those words and a last gaze at the 'variant', Mobius turned around and walked away. Loki's jaw dropped. "Mobius! Mobius! Wait! You know the truth! Nothing here is real! You are a mere puppet on a string and you know it! Please!" Loki's plead fell on deaf ears. Again. And before he could say another word, the Minutemen pushed him through the portal.

Loki stumbled; the force of the unmerciful shove took him down. He landed on his knees - already waiting for the incoming pain of the impact; but there was none. At least no strong pain. He had landed rather softly. Nevertheless, slipped a soft groan past the god's lips as he straightened his back; raven curls whipping through the air. Loki looked around; scanning his surroundings - eyes widened instantly.

Underneath his knees was green grass. The air smelt deliciously of a trillion different flowers. A soft breeze rustled the trees nearby, and the moon stood high in the night sky; shining down on him and illuminating the world around him - just like the countless fireflies. He didn't even have to look further to know where he was...

Home.

He was in Asgard, and that was clearly his mother's garden. Why would Mobius send me here? Loki frowned; was confused. Slowly, he got up; brought himself back on his feet. His rather ragged and worn out TVA suit was looking even dirtier now; the green stains of the grass on his knees adding to the demolition.

Everything was quiet. Perhaps too quiet. But that was the last thing Loki cared about, honestly... "Mobius!" He called out once again. "What is this foolery?! Why did you take me home?! Is this real?! What-" The god cut off his own sentence as he suddenly heard something. Laughter... Child's laughter. It was getting closer and closer - until... A young boy with green robes and short black hair ran past him, followed by a young girl in a beautifully bright blue dress; her hair billowing in the wind. They were clearly chasing each other; running light-hearted through Frigga's garden.

Loki watched for a few seconds, before it hit him; eyes widening to the size of plates. His breath hitched in his throat as the two children came running straight towards him; his eyes settling on the little girl's face.

"Y/N..."

Loki breathed out your name; eyes still stuck on your youthful self. It send a jolt through his whole body - and especially through his heart. He remembered. This very night. Your parents and Loki's parents had to speak to the high council - and since your father was Odin's advisor, he needed to join. Frigga had sent you up to Loki's room in order to play, but the two of you chose to go outside instead. He remembered... Every second.

The laughter echoed in his ears as you and his younger self ran straight through him as if he was nothing but a mere projection. "What-" But before Loki could think further about it, the world suddenly started to spin around him. Faster and faster and faster. It took the god to the ground with a loud scream.

Like a few minutes ago, Loki landed soft. This time, though, it wasn't grass... He looked beneath himself. It was straw. Still a bit dizzy from whatever just had happened to him, he shook his head gently and brushed a few loose raven curls out of his face. Chest heaving with the deep breaths he took, he looked up - and immediately recognised this place as well... The royal stables.

"What... What is happening here? What is this?" Loki asked, but of course nobody answered his question.

Then he heard steps. Quick steps - and only a few seconds later, you appeared in the huge door frame of the stable. Now though, you weren't a child anymore. You had grown into a young woman. His heart skipped another beat at the sight of you.

Loki witnessed how you quickly ran barefoot into the stable and hid yourself behind against the wall beside the door; giggling. The next thing he noticed was a voice. His voice.

"Y/N? Y/N! Where did you go?!"

You giggled again; rolling your eyes with a smile. "Come find me, Lokes!" You called out - and Loki remembered. It was again something he had experienced. Years and years ago, of course; in his youth - but nevertheless...

Steps were heard again as a younger Loki, dressed in his armour ran around the corner. Before he could pass you by, you jumped out of your hiding place; straight into the god's arms. He was caught by surprise of course, but then a joyful laugh left his lips, before his palms found your hips and he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

Loki was still standing in the middle of the straw like frozen; watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes. His nerve ends tingled; butterflies running wild inside his belly and by the Norns, he could swear that he still felt your lips on his. How soft and kissable they were. You had been his best friend, but on that very day, you had become his lover. His princess.

Loki wanted to relive this wonderful moment in his life longer, but then he felt again that pull and the stable started to spin around him - just as he witnessed how you and him stumbled backwards into the pile of straw; lips still entangled.

"No, no, no, not agaiiiiin!"

Loki felt like falling, before he landed with a thud on a soft but also not soft underground. The smell of pine, moss and earth hit him the second Loki reopened his eyes. Different trees and plants were everywhere around him - but they were painted black. It was dark outside. Again. Looks like the Asgardian forest, the god thought; running a hand through his hair. I must be in the woods.

Loki looked around; eyes searching for you, and after taking a few steps, he found you - and himself. This time, he dared to step closer, giving the fact that he couldn’t be seen anyway. Twigs snapped underneath his feet as he approached you.

You and Loki were on a small glade; a picnic blanket keeping your clothes from getting dirty. You had an arm underneath your neck to support your head - just like Loki, while your free hand was intertwined with his. Both of you were gazing into the night sky; pointing at different stars.

Loki came to stand directly beside you and himself; watching. He swallowed hard; knew exactly where the TVA had taken him. The god had figured out quickly that he was obviously 'travelling' through his memories. And that 'journey' or by Odin's sake whatever this was seemed to have one thing in common... You. No wonder, though. You had always been the key element in Loki's life. You were the one who kept him grounded. His anchor in the raging storms he had to face. Be it his father, brother, Warriors Three or heritage. You had been always there for him, until... Well, until Thanos and New York happened. He always wanted to find his way back to you, but then the TVA ripped him out of his timeline.

Loki swallowed hard in order to suppress the upcoming tears in his eyes; the full force of the realisation hitting him, that he was probably never ever going to see you again. Feel you again. Taste you again. His heart yearned for you - more than ever now, and all he wanted was to go back.

The god got ripped out of his thoughts, as he watched it happen before him. He had been so nervous back then. Afraid of rejection.

"Y/N, I... I know that this might come out of the blue and way too soon, but... I-I can't wait any longer. I-I want to finally make you entirely mine. I can't imagine a life without you anymore. I need you. My heart needs you. It belongs to you already anyway, so..." Loki reached in the pocket of his trousers. With a shaky hand he presented a silvery ring, which was literally shining in the pale blue moonlight. You gasped; hands flying up to cover your mouth, "Would you do me the honour and become my wife?" and then tears started to fall quickly. "N-Norns, L-Loki, I-" You had to take a deep breath to calm your racing heart - something Loki misinterpreted slightly. Fear struck him. "I-I know I can't afford you what my brother could. No title of being Asgard's queen. No throne. No-" You immediately interrupted him with your lips on his.

"Loki, stop that nonsense right now. I don't want Thor. I never did. And I definitely don't need or want the throne or being called the queen. All I need..." You cupped his chiselled cheek; gazing deeply into his blue eyes. "... is you, my prince. Always have been. Always will be. I love you. So, yes. Yes. I want to marry you."

A relieved, light-hearted laugh escaped his lips, before he smiled brightly and slipped the ring on your finger.

Loki, who still stood on the sideline, watching, found himself smiling. He loved that memory; held it close to his heart. It was such a special day for him - and you.

Before he could reminisce for too long, he got pulled out again. This time, though, the world faded entirely to black around him...

Once Loki woke up and slowly came to his senses, he felt pain shoot through his whole body. Perhaps because he had landed full force on a stony underground - unlike before. Nevertheless, he quickly felt a change. Something was different. It was not like the last three times.

Groaning, the god lifted himself off the ground - and immediately recognised what exactly had changed. He was still on Asgard; on the balcony of his chambers, to be exactly, but... He frowned, as he saw you standing underneath the sinking sun; gazing aimlessly into distance with the engagement ring he had given you twinkling in the red-orange rays. He couldn't remember. This time, he couldn't remember. Even though he tried hard to. This was not one of his memories...

Loki stepped closer towards you; eyes never leaving your frame. You were sad. He could tell. Not just because at the look on your face. He could feel it.

Silent tears were running down your cheeks, causing Loki's heart to cry out in pain. He had always hated to see you cry. That hadn't changed. It never would. "Y/N..." Loki whispered. "What is wrong, my love?" You didn't answer; just kept on crying quietly. He wanted to speak up again - but you spoke first.

"Oh Loki..." You cried softly; wiping away some stray tears. "Where are you?" You asked; gaze still directed up into the sky. "I hope you find your way back to me, my beloved... Someday..." His eyes widened; and he immediately started to run the last few meters separating you from him. Loki wanted to comfort you; wrap you up in his arms and wipe away your tears - but he never reached you. His feet stuck suddenly to the ground, as the world slowly started to spin around him. "No, no, no..." Loki mumbled in slight panic; desperately trying to free himself - but his feet wouldn't budge. It was almost like they suddenly acted on their own will.

"Y/N!"

He decided to use his voice instead. "Y/N! I'm here! I'm right here, darling!" Loki reached out his hand - but it was too late. Darkness overcame him as got sucked in the next dark hole, before he got spit out somewhere else.

The ground beneath him was familiar. As if he had been here before - and he was. Loki felt the soft grass of the royal gardens underneath his fingertips, as he heaved his tired body off the grassy ground.

Yes, he was right back to where he was in the beginning - but this time, his mother's garden looked different. Everything was beautifully decorated. Countless white chairs were lined up in front of him; each of them looking neat and elegantly - just like the people sitting on them. White rose petals were everywhere. It was beautiful. The god swallowed hard. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly that he must've landed at a wedding. His gaze drifted to the archway at the end of the passageway; formed by the chairs. It was as well beautifully decorated with white curtains and roses. And underneath the archway... Loki's heart stopped to beat for a moment.

It was you.

You were standing there, wearing the most beautiful wedding dress he had ever seen. Your hair was braided into a stunning plait; speckled with daisies. His heart skipped another beat; pumping pure love through his veins.

But the problem was the same. He couldn’t remember. This never happened. He never had the chance to finally marry-

Loki couldn't believe his eyes. All the people on the chairs, his family standing beside the archway, you... Suddenly everybody turned to face him. Suddenly, every pair of eyes was on him; leaving the god even more confused. Can they see me? Can she see me? Is this real?

Loki felt how the emotions got stuck in his throat. This moment... He had waited for this to happen such a long time. And all of a sudden, it was within reach.

Tears clouded his eyes, as he found himself running again towards you - towards his future; towards everything he ever desired and wanted.

This time, he actually managed to reach you - and for a moment, Loki believed that this was truly happening. That he was going to finally marry you right here, right now. You stretched out your arm towards him. Loki breathed out a teary laugh; reaching for you. He wanted to take your smaller hand into his bigger one; feeling your warm, soft skin finally against his - but he couldn't. His hand just slipped through yours, as if you were a ghost. He tried again - with the same result.

"Take my hand. Come on, Lokes..." You suddenly spoke up; smiling brightly. Your bright Y/E/C eyes were literally shining. "What are you waiting for?"

Loki felt like crying. His happiness washed away like sand on a beach - within a few seconds.

Frantically, he tried to reach for you again. "I-I want to, my love! I want to, b-but... I can't... I-" Loki's body froze once more; signalling him exactly what was about to happen. "No! Please!" He was powerless. He couldn't do anything against it as he got pulled away from you - again.

Another familiar setting, but no familiar memory. It felt like everything happened faster and faster; draining his physical and emotional energy. Whatever this was... Whatever Mobius had thrown him into... It was cruel. Torture.

Loki's body hit the very soft ground with a thud. It was softer than ever before. His palms glided over the surface; realising that he had landed undoubtedly on his bed - and the furniture around him belonged to his chambers.

He would've loved to just stay there and close his eyes to make it all stop, but when he heard the sound of bare feet touching the floor, he got up. Loki's head turned to follow the steps and when his eyes found you, did they widen immediately.

You were standing in the doorway; leading towards his bathing chambers. Nothing but a flimsy satin robe covered your body - which glided off your shoulders and fell to the floor, just in the moment when Loki's eyes settled on you.

The god swallowed hard; jaw slacking. You wore nothing underneath. He just stared. Stared at the holy temple which was your body. Memories flooded his head of endless nights (and days) he spent with you beneath the sheets; worshipping this temple - like you deserved. Like the goddess you were. It shot a warm feeling throughout his whole body; nerve ends tingling with desire - but it also left another gaping hole in his already bruised and battered heart.

He'd be never able to touch you again. To feel your beautiful curves underneath his fingertips; to touch your warm skin with his lips and kiss every square inch of your body.

"Are you finally joining me, my prince?" The sound of your angelic voice grabbed his attention; eyes focusing on your face - which was directed at him now. You were looking over your shoulder; hands working on freeing your hair from the plait.

"Time to consummate our marriage, husband."

It was the last thing you said, before you vanished inside the god's bathing chambers. Loki's feet and hands twitched. He desperately wanted to rip his clothes off his body and follow you, but he wasn't even able to finish that thought.

Darkness swallowed him whole once more.

Loki found himself kneeling on the stony surface of his balcony once again; exhausted. He couldn't take this anymore. His heart couldn't take this anymore. He just wanted it to stop. Unless he was going to break - and little did he know that what was coming now really did break him. The straw that broke the camel's back.

Sure, Loki could've just kept his eyes glued to the ground and not look up, in order to spare himself some pain - but being the fool in love he was, he couldn't. No matter how much it hurt... Seeing you was just too tempting. So, he somehow managed to stand on both feet again and looked up.

You were leaning against the beautifully crafted railing. You hair was flying in the warm summer breeze. You were clearly enjoying the warm rays of sunshine on your face and the naked skin which wasn't wrapped in the beautiful emerald green dress you were wearing.

A goddess. You looked like a goddess.

Loki's eyes wandered over your body - but suddenly froze in place. He felt his heart drop for the millionth time; but this time it shattered into a trillion pieces. The god's knees buckled; legs almost giving in. Pregnant. You were visibly pregnant. There was no doubt - and with the next blink of his eyes, the tears started to mercilessly fall; wetting his ragged shirt.

"N-No, please... Please..." He didn't even know what he was begging for. For his eyes to betray him? For this to end? For you to finally be able to notice him? For the illusion to fall?

The smile on your face was brighter than the sun itself, as you ran your palms absent-mindedly over your swollen stomach - until it dropped and your eyes widened for a moment; looking shocked. Loki's heart was jumping over the cliff alongside your smile - but then you breathed out a laugh.

"Loki, I... I can feel her!" Her? "She's kicking! Come, feel!"

Your words caused even more tears to roll down the god's cheeks, as he began to shake his head. "I-I can't, Y/N, I-I can't..." Loki whispered; voice filled with despair and sadness.

But you couldn't hear him - and perhaps didn't even see him. That hadn't changed. But it didn't stop you from doing something you hadn't done the last three times the TVA had tortured him with your presence. You walked over to Loki; stopping mere inches in front of him. To feel you so close almost caused his heart to explode. He inhaled a shaky breath; swearing that he was able to smell you.

"Feel, my love," you repeated - and without blinking grabbed his hand to press it against the side of your stomach. Loki gasped; his whole body shivering. Your warm, clothed skin suddenly on his; the soft fabric of the dress underneath his fingertips; the clearly noticeable kicks against his palm. It was overwhelming. So overwhelming, he didn't even question why you were able to actually touch him.

It was a small moment of bliss, before he broke entirely...

In this moment of bliss and blinding love, he wanted to reach for your hand and bury his head against your baby bump to feel more - but like before, he couldn't. His hand slipped through yours, as if he was trying to capture air. This realisation dragged him back down to earth, reminding him that this was nothing but a cruel game the TVA played. It wasn't real.

Loki broke. His legs gave in as he sunk to his knees; palm slipping from your body. His vision went blurry.

"Mobius, please... D-Don't do this to me, please... I can't anymore. I can't. I-I know this isn't real. I know it isn't. Please stop it. I can't have that w-with her - I-I never will. She is n-not truly here. Please. Have mercy. I can't take this any longer." He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. It was all too much.

All of a sudden, everything got quiet around him. All Loki could hear were his own muffled cries and sobs. The god had curled himself up into a ball - nothing more than a picture of misery.

He didn't know how long he was half kneeling, half laying on the cold ground. Perhaps only a few seconds; perhaps a few hours - but at some point he could hear quiet steps approaching. Brown dress shoes came into his field of few. Definitely not you.

"Loki, I... I didn't know, I... I am sorry." A soft, familiar voice urged to Loki's ears. "I didn't know that Ravonna would send you through this..." Mobius.

The god lifted his head; looked straight into the sorrowful, compassionate face of his 'friend'. The agent offered him his hand, which Loki took to lift his exhausted body off the ground. "W-What... What was that? Torture, I assume." The man opposite him swallowed visibly. "It... It was a glimpse into the future, but also an illusion." Loki's eyebrows slanted into a frown, causing Mobius to explain further.

"What you saw was everything that happened... and could've happened."

Now he understood; a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You showed me something I'd die for to have but never could. She's out of reach - and she'll forever be. Just like what you showed me. Am I right?" Mobius swallowed again; didn't dare to say something. So, he just nodded carefully.

Loki's heart broke all over again; another bitter laugh finding its way past his lips. It truly hurt Mobius to see him this way.

"I am sorry. I didn't know that Y/N-" The god shook his head, interrupting him immediately. "Don't. Just stop, please."

Defeated, the TVA agent nodded.

A few beats of silence passed, before a small whirring sound announced the opening of a portal. "Come on. Let's get you out of here and talk, huh?" Loki nodded; wordlessly following Mobius.

There was no point in arguing or stepping up against him. Loki's glorious purpose was gone. He had lost - everything which ever meant something to him. His brother. His mother. His life. But especially, he had lost you - and the life he could've had with you. Love. A happy marriage. A child. Everything was gone within the blink of an eye; and only now did he realise, that he already had lost all of it the second he made that one wrong step which got him here.

There was no point in fighting anymore. He had nothing left to fight for. All that was left, was a gaping hole in his broken heart.

No hope. No love. No happy ending.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #Spotify

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lilywastaken · 1 year

Text

⇝ resolution .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART FIVE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: A letter in the mail changes everything.

WARNINGS: Mentions of canon typical violence, gore, blood, death; angst, fighting, slight NSFW, a really big rollercoaster of emotions, I'm sorry.

A/N: AFTER ALMOST THREE WEEKS!! I AM SO SORRY IT'S HERE IT'S HERE SOUND THE BELLS!!! Please don't froget to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, it helps so fucking much!!

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged in future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account - @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

“You know you can just go to bed, right?”

“Mmm...” You yawned, leaning your head on the cool porcelain of the bathtub’s edge as you watched Tommy try to grab at one of the toys you’d placed in the water for him, leaning over to push it towards him. “...’m fine.”

“You haven’t slept properly for a few days.” Simon tried again, arms crossed over his chest as he tried his best to not just grab you and shove you into bed and finish Tommy’s bath on his own.

“Noted…” You said, voice groggy and throat sore but still with enough energy to snap at him. “Just go…”

Go where? He wanted to snap back, but kept himself quiet, looking away from your body slumped on the floor to your bed, letting out a frustrated sigh.

It’d been a few days since he’d come back from the mission that had ended with him and the task force in your home, and despite the warm farewell you’d both shared, when he came back, you’d seemed to have grown colder towards him for no apparent reason, and God, did he hate how much it reminded him of the first few months of whatever this was, insisting to do everything by yourself and leaving no room for discussion, taking up almost all of Tommy’s time with yourself.

Which was fine, you were his mother, after all, but it just felt a bit like… You were pushing him away, keeping him from your son all over again.

He didn’t like it.

“I got some curry, go eat and let me finish him up.” He took a few steps towards you, leaning down and placing a hand on your back, immediately being taken aback as you jumped away from his touch, arm placed protectively over yourself as if he’d just tried to attack you.

“No!” You all but screamed, staring up at him in shock before seemingly realising what you’d just done. “No. I- I said it’s fine, Simon. Go eat, I’ll finish.”

He furrowed his eyebrows beneath the mask, clenching his fists at his sides as he watched you turn around again to call out softly at Tommy, who turned his head to you with a bright smile, unaware of the tension filling up the room between his parents.

“Fine.” He said gruffly, not missing the way your shoulders tensed at the sound of his voice.

He really didn’t fucking understand what had happened between you two, what could’ve occurred in the span of the few days he’d been gone to change the way you acted towards him completely…

It was worrying, the whole scenario that was playing out making him sick to his stomach as he took out the food he’d bought, making you a plate before his and pouring you a drink, simply staring at his own food while listening to you whisper to Tommy through the walls, suddenly having lost all his appetite.

You hadn’t even gotten to talk like he’d promised when he came back, you’d dismissed any and every attempt to start a conversation, keeping it to short words and sentences, seemingly not wanting anything to do with him apart from the things you were basically obligated to talk to him about.

And god, did he fucking hate it.

“Let me feed him.” He spoke as you walked out of your bedroom with Tommy in your arms, his hair damp and curly from the water, chubby hands clinging onto one of his toys.

“I can-”

“I’m going to feed him.” Simon snapped, walking over to you and reaching for his son, his towering figure and the fire in his eyes immediately shutting you up as you didn’t put on more of a fight, letting him take the small boy. “And you’re going to eat and then go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Tommy was placed in his chair, a plate of rice in front of him. “You need rest.”

“Maybe I don’t want to rest.” You retorted, voice almost gone, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away from him, yet still keeping a watchful eye on him and Tommy, once again insinuating further that you didn’t trust him anymore anywhere near your son.

Keep it calm. Not around Tommy.

You saw it by the way he clenched his hand around the fork in his hand, he was trying his best to not snap with your son present, not wanting to subject the small boy to that kind of spectacle.

And yes, you didn’t either, but you couldn’t just act like everything was normal around him, you knew how you were acting now was just a trauma response to what had happened in the time he’d been gone, that it would all hopefully be better if you told him about it, but the mere thought of the files you’d received in the mail that were currently sitting in one of the cupboards’ drawers made you feel nauseated.

You just… couldn’t see him the same.

Yeah, you were once a kid with unlimited access to the internet, yes you accidentally saw some gore shit online, you’d heard some disgusting things thanks to your grandfather that had served in the military, you’d seen all the mess and blood after you’d given birth, you weren’t fully desensitised to gore or blood, but you’d seen it across the years.

But those pictures, fuck. It wasn’t any surprise that you’d immediately thrown up after opening them, having expected maybe some letters about rent or something, not- whatever that was.

What you’d been able to discern after flipping through them a few times was that they were not the original military’s file but copies, which by the way the ink was smudged on a few of them and the lettering was off, seemed to have been made under a lot of pressure and on a time limit.

You didn’t understand at first, why they had been sent to you, too in shock and terrified of the images amongst them to even connect it to Simon until you saw his callsign. And as you started to read through them more carefully, you realised that it was everywhere.

And fuck, you’d never been more terrified in your life.

Of course, you were aware of what a man in his position did, but you’d never explicitly asked him about it, never wanted to actually be exposed to whatever things he and the task force did to protect your country.

But seeing it written down, all the specifics along with the pictures, it was traumatising.

You hadn’t even realised how much time you’d spent staring at them until Tommy alerted you with a cry, snapping you out of it and forcing you to put the files down (although putting them down anywhere in your house made you feel sick), body shaking and bile rising into your throat once again.

Obviously, there was no name on the envelope and of course, no return address, so the person who sent the files to you remained a mystery, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce that it was someone who’d been close to everything that had been depicted in them, someone who’d figured out who you were and what relationship you had to the SAS Lieutenant, and either wanted to send some type of message that you were to shook up to decipher or to simply toy with your emotions, all you knew was that somehow, they’d figured out Ghost’s oh-so secretive double life out.

How, you had no idea. But you did know what that meant.

You and Tommy were in danger.

And you didn't know how you were supposed to react.

Seriously, how?

Everything was too much at once, the files, the pictures, the fear, Tommy, Ghost, you-

And then he came back.

Acting like he’d never done anything of what you’d seen, holding your face in those warm hands and being so sweet towards you and your son, conflicting you even more.

You didn't feel safe anymore, not just around Simon, but in general. And seeing him lean down to pick up Tommy with those hands, those hands that had caused what you’d seen, you just jumped into action, scooping Tommy up before he could reach him and insisting he would need to have a shower before touching him.

You just couldn’t fathom how a man like that could treat you both with such kindness, how his hands could go from doing that to someone and then holding you softly at night, it was confusing and sickening and all you wanted to do was get rid of everything, go back to before where you had no idea of what happened while he was gone and you could indulge yourself in his touch without that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

How were you supposed to bring up a topic like that to him? How were you supposed to look him in the eyes after that information, hand him the files and receive confirmation that they were in fact real and true? And what would you do? Force him to explain himself like a wife confronting her husband over an affair? This wasn’t anything like that, this was his job, something he’d been doing for ages and needed no explanation, especially to you. What, would you force him to apologise to all the people he’d hurt?

Of course not.

But still, you couldn’t just act normal.

Even if you felt slightly bad.

Even if he looked at you like that, the way he’d done at the beginning of your relationship.

You… Couldn’t…

You didn’t even process the tears running down your cheeks until he shot up from his spot and his warm hands came into contact with your cheeks, pulling your head up to look at you properly, making you stumble as the exhaustion and overwhelm finally caught up to you.

He called your name with such confusion and care, despite how mean you’d treated him these past few days, your hands coming up to grab at his arms for stability as he asked you what was wrong, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“Hey, listen t’me, come-”

“I can’t- I’m sorry, I can’t-” You sobbed out, your breathing erratic as you tried your best to stop yourself from crying, but once the dam had been broken, there was no way of fixing it. “Simon-”

“Come ‘ere.” He let go of your face, arms falling to your body and wrapping around you, pulling you into a hug and letting you grab at his shirt, despite that repulsive feeling stirring deep within your chest once again at his touch. “Fuck, lovie…”

“Don’t…” You murmured into his shirt as soon as the pet name had slipped out of his lips, squeezing your eyes closed.

“What?”

“Don't” You repeated, pushing yourself away from him and taking a few unsure steps back. “I- I can’t I-” You shook your hands as if there were muck on them, confused and anxious as you tried to breathe, spiralling further and further into a panic attack.

You weren’t really there for what happened next, Simon could tell as he held you almost limp in his arms, trying his best to calm you down from whatever was happening. Panic attacks for the both of you weren’t unnormal, he knew that, you’d both been subject to anxiety for a long time, so this wasn’t completely new, but you fainting from the exhaustion and him having to bring you to bed was.

And because you were asleep, he had no way of figuring out what had happened, what the cause of this whole mess was and how he could help you through it.

He’d placed Tommy in the crib you'd brought into your room a few days ago, letting you both take a well-deserved nap while he cleaned up the abandoned food outside. And well, after that, he picked a beer out of the fridge, convinced that he was deserving of one too after everything. But of course, the bottle opener was nowhere to be found, so he was forced to look through all the different drawers in the kitchen and living room until he found it.

But… He didn’t. Instead, he was greeted with a file envelope messily shoved into one of the cupboards beneath a few pictures of Tommy you’d put up, blank and very much looking like some of the files that they kept back at base.

He pulled it out, looking down at the drawer that was filled with little trinkets, stones and incense, definitely not the drawer where you’d stick something like this.

Maybe he should have put it back, but he finally decided against it, pulling the contents out and spilling them across the wooden top of the small cupboard, fear immediately being stricken within him as he laid eyes upon the papers.

What the actual fuck.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen them, some of these he’d written him fucking self, all the reports for recent missions where he’d been the one to finish off most of the enemy’s team.

He recognised each and every picture that came along with the textual description, remembered the face and the voice of the person who had been unfortunate enough to meet him during a mission.

He knew them, he’d had them in his hands at one point, that didn’t fucking explain why you had them.

A thousand scenarios rushed through his brain as he stared down at them, hands gripping at the edges of the wooden piece of furniture in order to keep himself from breaking his hands from the force he was clenching his fists with, a shaky sigh leaving his lips as his mind went down the deepest rabbit holes to explain why you had this.

Had you been using him to get inf-

No.

Was this all a game to y-

No!

No, you weren’t… You weren’t a fucking enemy. You weren’t his enemy. You weren’t that type of person. You wouldn’t just fucking babytrap him to get information.

No one was sick enough for that.

…right?

“Fuck!” He roared, slamming his hands down onto the wood and staring deep into the picture of the soulless eyes of one of his victims, chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

No. He wasn’t going to think of you like that. You loved Tommy too much for it all to be an act. He loved y-

Simon raised his hands up to his face to press them into his eyes until he saw flashing lights, trying to calm himself down.

He turned around as soon as he heard the squeak of the floorboards, furious eyes landing on your dishevelled figure as you clung to the doorframe, staring at him like a deer caught in headlight as you saw what he’d been looking at.

“Sim-”

“Why do you have this?” A shiver ran throughout your body at the sound of his voice, calm and calculated, like he hadn’t just woken you up with a shout loud enough to shake the building.

“Si-”

“Answer.” Ghost replied, eyes focused solely on you as you looked down at your feet, a pressure building in your chest as you tried to speak.

“They were sent to me.” You finally choked out, flinching back as Simon made a move to pick them up, unknowing of the connotations that answer could have.

Silence.

“Do you really think I’d go out of my way to find those? Do you think I wanted to see you like that- like Ghost?” You started, voice wavering. “Fuck, Simon, those- I couldn’t even look at them a second time, I feel sick just fucking thinking of them!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!?” He shouted, turning around in a flash and taking a few jarring steps towards you, files all bunched up in his shaking hands. “Why didn’t you think to mention that you were being sent shit like this!?”

“Because I was fucking scared, Simon! I was fucking terrified that this meant that they know who I was, who Tommy is, who he’s related to! That they know about us and therefore can use us as leverage against you! Unlike you, I’m not that fucking desensitised to pain, to whatever you do, to the fear of getting hurt so that they can get to you! I’m not part of the fucking military, I’m just a fucking civillian who is clearly very much in danger thanks to a fucking mistake she made with you!” You screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks and blurring your vision as you shoved a finger into his chest. “So I’m sorry, okay!’ I’m fucking sorry that I was too afraid to bring this up! To bring up the fact I can’t see you the same, that I’m scared Tommy’s going to be hurt and I won’t be able to do anything about it, I’m fucking sorry!”

You let out another sob as you finished, your voice sore and throat dry from letting all of that out.

“‘M not like you, Simon.”

Fuck.

Everything came crashing down onto him, guilt the only thing weighing Simon down.

“I’m… scared.”

“Of me?” He finally breathed out, raising his free hand to cup your cheek, relief flooding his body as you didn’t move away but immediately being crushed as he saw the fearful look on your face.

“...I don’t know…”

A beat.

“...Should I be?”

Maybe.

“...I’d never hurt you. I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. You and Tommy are my family, and I’m going to protect you both no matter what. I won't let anyone ever lay a hand on you. You need to know that. The man I’m out there isn’t the same as the one I’m here. But neither of us would hesitate to rip apart whatever bastard is making you feel like this.”

He let the files fall, cupping your face with both hands, shaking you slightly so you got the message to look up at him.

“I know I can’t undo this, what you’ve seen, what I’ve done, but I want to be here for you. You know I’ll always be here for you.” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You said, voice breaking. You couldn’t fully express what you were feeling right then, you… you didn’t hate him, it would be impossible to truly hate Simon, after everything he’d done for you; you just needed time and space. His view of you might’ve not changed in the whole time he’d been with you but yours definitely had, and that was normal, considering everything he did. You just couldn’t act like everything was normal after what you’d seen.

“...go back to bed. We’ll talk this out once you’re rested.” He let you go, watching you walk back into your room with a guilty look on your face before turning to his now still beer, the appetite he’d had for one having vanished.

“...Simon?” You whispered before closing the door, hand clinging onto the wood.

“Yeah?” He replied, a bit gruffly.

“...Tommy’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, giving you a reassuring look, one he hoped you caught despite the mask. “‘Course he is.”

He watched you hesitate at the door for a split second, almost like you were deciding whether or not to say anything to further the conversation, but seemingly decided against it, closing the door after a quick nod and leaving him in silence.

Silence.

Something he used to enjoy before, when he was alone at home or at base with only himself for company, letting him unwind and think about whatever he wanted to. Now, it was overwhelming.

It felt like every single thought rushing through his brain was out to catch him or hurt him, showing him the most horrific scenarios and ideas of what could happen thanks to whatever fucker had decided to play some sick joke on you.

Was it even a joke? It could be hundreds of things, a joke, a message, a threat…

Or just a form of psychological warfare, a way of messing with you and no doubt hoping to distance you from him, to leave him weak and defenceless like the enemy anticipated. That was the more credible reason, even if the mere thought of someone sending you shit like this in hopes of breaking you drove him insane to the point of wanting to catch and dispose of that abstard with his own two hands, ironic considering that those acts of anger and violence had been the whole reason for your dispute.

It pissed him off to no end.

But, even though a lot of people would’ve acted on the current emotions rushing through him if they were in his place, Simon knew that focusing solely on finding the bastard wasn’t the most important subject at hand. As much as he wanted this threat on your happiness and safety disposed of, he couldn’t just fuck off and leave you here to deal with the damage and Tommy all on your own.

He’d repeated it to himself countless times before going on a mission, he was a protector, he was your protector, even if in the future you decided you hated his guts or something happened between you two, you’d always be safe and secure with him, no matter what.

And so, he swallowed that horrible need for retaliation and picked up his phone, dialling in his captain’s number.

“What’d you do with them?”

“Burnt them.” Simon grunted, wiping away the mess Tommy had made around his mouth. “Best way of disposing shit like that.”

You hummed, clearly out of it, staring at the news playing out on the tv.

“I told Laswell about it. ‘Said she’d do her best to find out who was the one who made the copies.”

“Right…” You drummed your fingers against your mug with feigned disinterest, truly not knowing what to say back.

“And, until whoever it is is caught, I’m not going anywhere.”

That caught your attention. You turned to him with an inquisitive look, confused. “What?”

“Asked her to stop givin’ me missions until they’re sure you’re not in danger.” He clarified, picking Tommy up from his high chair and straddling him to his side. “So I’m here in case anything happens.”

Tommy was carefully handed to you, Simon’s body plopping down onto the sofa next to you a few seats away, his feet coming up to rest on the coffee table as he picked up his own tea.

“‘That okay? Figured you’d feel better if it was me and not some random guy sent by the SAS. Though Gaz was pretty up for it when asked…” He mumbled the last part, showing you did indeed have an option if you truly didn’t feel safe with him around anymore (his heart stung a bit at the thought of it, but it was what it was), but you soon shut it down with a simple shrug, pulling Tommy closer to you so he could rest his head on your chest, rubbing his back with your free hand.

“It’s… okay. I’m just going to need some time.”

You were a bit ashamed of how you’d reacted last night when he’d confronted you about the files, but you still stood by everything you said, even if you’d said it a bit too harshly, it didn’t matter. You weren’t like him, after all, you were still afraid of things happening to you and of course, your son, and just needed some time to process what you hadn’t in all the months of knowing Simon: that whether you liked it or not, you would always be tied back to him, even if the mere thought of being hurt just because of who you’d randomly decided to go back home with one night.

“You said something last night.” He began, outstretching a hand towards you both so Tommy could grab at one of his fingers.

“I said a lot of things last night.” You tried to humour, but stayed quiet as the expression in his eyes didn’t change.

“You said that you were in danger because of a mistake you made.”

You flinched at the words, biting down on your lower lip as you recalled back to the outburst you’d subjected Simon to last night, that particular part having slipped out in the heat of the moment.

“...did you really mean that?”

“Fuck! Of course not!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to disturb Tommy any more than you both already had in the last few days, shaking your head to further your point. “No- Fuck, tat- that was so disgusting of me to say. It might’ve been a mistake back then when it first happened-” You saw his shoulders slump slightly, so you moved to grab at the arm he’d put out, catching his attention. “-but I’d never change it. Not for anything in the world. If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have Tommy, and he- God, Simon, he’s my son, of course he isn’t a mistake, he’s my everything…”

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding along with your words as you both looked down at Tommy, curious big eyes switching between you two as if able to understand the conversation that had just transcurred, giving you a toothless smile.

Well, not really toothless, since he had been crying for almost a month now due to the pain of his teeth coming in, so there were a few flashes of white across the smile.

“Yeah, you’re my everything too.”

“Huh?”

You’d expected him to immediately backtrack on his answer and say he was talking to Tommy, but he simply shrugged again, eyes darting from you to Tommy with a fond look reflecting in them as he did everything but take back what he said. “Both of you. Might be corny, but it’s true. I told you.”

His everything.

Simon’s everything.

That shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did.

Everything was going to be okay.

Yeah, it would take some time for you to adjust like you’d told him, but he was okay with that. He’d wait for you.

"Come on, please, wake up."

Simon's hands were shaking, gripping at your lifeless body as if you were the only thing that mattered in the midst of this living nightmare, his mask growing wet as tears formed in the corner of his eyes, his breathing growing erratic as your body slumped in his grasp.

He called your name desperately, your body shaking in his hold from the way his own hands were trembling and in a feeble attempt at getting you to wake up, to open your eyes, to say his name in that fucking beautiful voice of yours, anything.

His gloved hands came up to cradle your paling face, running it over your features to rub off the dust and ashes that had stuck to the now drying blood, dropping your body in horror as instead of the grime he wanted to wipe off, he was left with nothing, his hand growing warm as the blood from your now horrifying carcass started to flow.

He was drowning, he was choking, he couldn't fucking breathe, he couldn't think, you were dead, you were gone, his fucking life didn't have meaning anym-

Simon jolted up as the pressure that had been building in his chest finally exploded, the dam that had been working so hard to keep his fears at bay breaking, letting the tears that Simon always tried his best to contain out.

Fuck, it felt like he'd really lived it, like he had held your dying body in his hands as you slowly slipped away from him, like his the recurring fears of him causing your end had come true.

He felt pathetic, like the broken man he really was, lying on the fucking sofa like always trembling like a little kid, the tears a constant stream down his cheeks, all the emotions and stress from the past few months finally catching up to him.

His breathing was raspy and uneven, reflecting the anxiety rushing through his veins at that very same moment.

He felt awful, he was awful, an awful, destroyed, broken man who had been tipped over the edge by a stupid fucking dream.

Someone undeserving of everything you’d given to him.

He was sure his heart was going to break through his chest with how quickly it was beating against his ribcage, one of his hands coming up to clench at the material of his creased shirt.

He felt like he was about to pass out.

His eyesight was blurry, his limbs shaky and his mouth dry, clear indications of the oh-so familiar panic attacks he’d been prone to every since he was a young boy, hat he’d grown enough to know how to control, but he knew that right now, he did not have enough willpower to keep himself from spiralling down into his own thoughts.

He blindly got up, staggering around the living room as the blanket that had been draped over him pooling onto the floor. He pushed open your door, breaths staggering as his teary eyes made contact with your sleeping body, darting towards the crib right next to your bed where Tommy slept peacefully, making sure to stay quiet as he entered the bathroom.

He didn’t want to wake you up, to annoy you even more than you already were with him after everything that had happened, despite almost a month having gone by after it all, you deserved rest, you deserved fucking better than h-

His hands gripped the porcelain sink as he stumbled into the room, staring at his uncovered reflection in the mirror, his cheeks red and blotchy from having cried mere moments ago, a few stray tears continuing their pathway down his face.

He felt ridiculous.

He was supposed to be some hard willed strong Lieutenant, not the pathetic man who cried at a mere nightmare he really was.

"...Simon?"

The sound of shuffling sheets reached his ears, your muffled voice coming from beneath the covers as you stirred, his panicked footsteps and the light shining through the crack of the bathroom door enough to wake you from your slumber.

"'S that you?"

Who else would it be? He wanted to joke, but stayed quiet, hoping you would just go back to sleep.

But clearly, you weren't satisfied with no answer.

He watched the door open behind him from the mirror, freezing like a deer in headlights as you walked in sporting one of his dirty shirts he'd told you once you could wear, hiding the fact he wanted to see you in his clothes behind the pretence that it would be easier to do laundry, sweatpants (his, as well) tied at your waist so they wouldn't slip down your legs.

"Simon." You mumbled, eyes barely open and vision blurry as you held onto the door frame for stability, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you yawned. "What's wrong?"

You knew something was off as soon as you'd heard him creep into the bathroom, already knowing from experience that Simon never got up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, fearing that he'd wake you up like he’d done just now-

“Nuffin’, lovie. Go back to bed.”

You frowned, squinting at him through swollen eyes, the bright lights from the bathroom and the sleep in them not helping your vision in the slightest, moving your head to rest against the cool wood of the doorframe. “It’s not, though, is it?”

A beat.

“Simon…” You said, mid-yawn, outstretching a hand to blindly grab at his sleep shirt, tugging at the material. “Tell me.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to not break down like he knew he wanted to, his grip on the sink slowly growing stronger as you stumbled towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing the side of your face to his warm back, giving him a comforting squeeze.

"I said it's fine." He whispered, hand coming up to yours and attempting to peel it from his body, giving up once it immediately snapped back.

Part of him wanted you to stay like that, but the other, more reasonable part knew that it would be best if he didn't burden you with his nightmares and if you just went to bed.

"You wouldn't be crying if it was." You murmured, unlinking your hands and running them over his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath his shirt.

"'Not crying, lovie."

"You have to stop lying to me, Simon. It isn't healthy." You mumbled angrily, pulling yourself away and looking up at him, feeling the blood leave your face as you realised you were staring at the back of his actual head instead of the black material of his balaclava like you'd gotten used to.

Simon had never explicitly told you that he was uncomfortable with you seeing his face, but you could only assume after all the time he spent with his face obstructed, even with Tommy.

So you looked down at your feet, making sure to not peek at the mirror like you knew you really wanted to, not wanting to upset him by breaking his trust.

"...I know." He sighed, turning on the tap and splashing his face with some of the water, finding it a bit humorous that he did it with you still clinging onto him, placing a damp hand over one of yours and giving it a squeeze.

"Come on…" you sighed, letting go of him reluctantly and turning your body towards the door, flipping the light switch off before blindly outstretching an arm out to him, letting out an amused huff as you immediately met his own hand, pulling him out of the small bathroom and back into the comfort of your room. "Stay?"

"...'course." He breathed out, following you mindlessly as you returned back into your spot in the bed, almost like routine now after all the times you'd brought him to bed with the same comforting hold on his hands, kneeling on the mattress and all but collapsing onto the soft covers, running his hands over them until they met your warm body, running his fingertips over the patch of skin that had been revealed by the rise of your shirt, letting out a shaky breath as your own hands came up to run over his arms.

He fluttered his eyes shut, closing the distance between you to and letting his body fold into your touch, snuggling his face into the valley of your breasts (he thanked whatever god was up there that his shirt was big enough to expose your cleavage, a very welcoming sight), and grasping at your thighs for stability.

Your arms came to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer into you until he'd grabbed at your legs to wrap around his waist, fingers running through his coarse hair, stopping at the top of his head every few seconds to scratch at his scalp, and if Simon was a cat, he knew damn well he'd be purring right then.

"It's okay to cry, you know that, right?" You whispered, voice muffled by his hair as you let out a breath, his short hair tickling your cheek from how you'd pressed your face against it. "Better out than in."

"You sound like my mom." He grumbled, pulling a snort out of you as you ran your nails down his nape. "'Always said shit like that."

You stayed quiet, ignoring the nagging feeling in your chest that wanted you to continue on with the conversation, curious for learning more about his mysterious family.

"'Said'?" You whispered, almost nervous, scared you'd overstepped.

He stayed silent, only furthering your fear that you'd insulted him until he let out an elongated sigh, hands pulling you impossibly closer as his warm breath hit your skin, face flushing at the reminder that if was his actual face pressing against your cleavage, not the rough material of the painted balaclava.

"Don' see her as much. Not in the best condition to have a chat. Tommy takes care of her mostly."

"Tommy?" You said in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes darted over to your son's crib, the glow-in-the-dark stars you'd stuck to the sides of it illuminating it enough to reflect your sleeping son's cute little face.

He froze in your arms as if he'd said something wrong. "My… my brother."

"Your brother's called Tommy?!" You almost shouted, peeling yourself off of him to look down at him (ignoring the slight whine that formed in his throat at the feeling of your body being torn away from his), despite not even being able to see him.

"Yeah…" he grumbled, trying to pull you back into his arms, frowning as you slapped at his shoulders to catch his attention.

"That's - Why you reacted like that, right?" You mumbled, thinking back to the night he'd met Tommy for the first time, the way his eyes had gone blank like you'd just reminded him of some painful memory.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

You hadn't thought much about it at the time, since by then, you had more important things to worry about, but now that he'd revealed his brother's name, his shock made sense.

"Yeah…Was kind of… Tragically funny, lovie." He sighed, running your hands over your waist as you finally pulled him back into your hold.

"Yeah… I didn't know."

"How could've you? I left before I could even give you my last name." He huffed, rubbing the side of his cheek on your chest.

Silence filled the room once again, only being broken by the shuffling sounds of the sheets over you or Tommy's occasional whines, continuing your brushing of his hair with your fingers.

You didn't want to pry further into the topic that had been at hand before you'd interrupted, squeezing your eyes closed as you inhaled his shampoo, shivering beneath his touch as he ran his fingers around your belly button.

"She's in a home. Near where I grew up. Nice one. I only talk to her on the holidays." He started, running them up to the space below your breasts. "It's better that way. Tommy's the nicer one of us."

"Didn't he used to terrorise you?" You teased, trying to lighten the mood, letting out a cry as he licked a stripe up your clavicle, no doubt grinning into the darkness as you slapped his head.

"Going to stop telling you things from now on if you insist on using them against me in the future, lovie." He murmured, pressing a kiss to where he'd just licked as an apology, ignoring the way your skin grew warmer beneath his touch. "But… he's cleaned his act up. Not as much as a cunt. Probably afraid I could rip him in two, now."

You snorted, hesitantly pushing his bangs back to press a kiss to his forehead, almost giggling at the pleased hum that left his lips. "Si… you, uh… want to talk about why you were crying?"

Simon noticeably tensed beneath your touch as you brought up the whole reason as to why he was in your bed, another breath hitting your skin.

He thought about lying to you once again, but finally decided against it, throwing a glance at his son over his shoulder as if the boy would understand the next words that would come out of his mouth.

"Just… a stupid nightmare. You… I jus’ wanted to make sure you were safe. I didn't mean to wake you, really." He let out all in a string pulled together by one breath, hands coming down to grab at your thighs and rub at them through the material of your bottoms, letting out a shaky sigh as you moved them to wrap around his body. "Fuckin' stupid, isn't it?"

"It's not stupid if it affected you this much, Si…" You tried, not wanting to pry further into the contents of the nightmare, but still not wanting to drop the subject all together. “Even the strongest people need a shoulder to cry on.”

You cupped his face, bringing it off your chest, looking down at what you could only assume to be his face.

“Let me be yours.”

You didn’t move as he shuffled closer to you, running your thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned closer into you, feeling his warm breath hit your face.

“Mine?” He mumbled, your hair standing on edge as you felt his lips brush against yours ever so slightly.

“Mhm… Yours.” You breathed out, nodding as if he could see you.

Heat rushed to your face as soon as his lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan you let out as his hands moved beneath your shirt, tightening at your waist.

And God, did it feel right.

Nothing had ever felt as right as this did right then, the feeling of his lips slotted against yours and his hands seemingly everywhere on your body, causing you to go near dizzy and drunk on his touch.

“Fuck, love.” He said between kisses, moving you onto your back so he was hovering over you properly, leaning down to catch your lips back into a passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to breathe or let out your own moans, immediately swallowing up each and any sound you made.

His hands came down to your thighs, helping you wrap them around his waist before he moved away to press pecks along your jawline, moving further down until he was leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all over your upper chest, his stubble tickling your skin.

“S-Sim-”

He shushed you, sucking on the pressure point of your neck, pressing closer to you as you let out another breathless whine, his eyelashes brushing against your skin from the way he's snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was trying to have you impossibly close to him.

He stayed there for a few minutes, covering your neck in kisses and love bites, answering with a “markin’ my territory” and a chuckle when you asked why he was so adamant on kissing you everywhere but where you needed it the most, his hands doing wonders as they went over your shirt to cup one of your breasts, immediately surprising you both my the loud moan that left you.

“I-”

“Christ, lovie. That fuckin’ sensitive? Barely even touched you and you’re moaning like that?” He huffed out in amusement, leaning upwards in hopes of laying his eyes on the mess he’d left across your skin only to be met with darkness, grunting as he raised a hand to run over the marks, feeling the indents from his teeth around your neck.

“It’s- It’s been a while, Si-” You mumbled out of embarrassment, thankful for the darkness since it was the only thing keeping you from fully breaking down from the shame of being so sensitive after a single touch, but you couldn’t really be blamed.

It’d been almost a year and a half since you’d last indulged in any type of self-pleasure, the last time ironically being the night you’d spent with Simon before his mission, it was no wonder a simple brush of his warm hand to your breast had you writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat, you basically were.

“Hm…” He grunted, leaning down to press some kisses along your flushed cheeks, still purposefully avoiding your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he thought of what to do next. “...I want to see you.”

What?

“Properly.”

You felt his lips brush against yours slightly, knowing full well how titillating he was being.

“Wh-”

“Turn the light on.”

You froze.

You were staring up at the darkness of your ceiling, letting out soft breathless sounds as he leaned back down to continue kissing your neck, letting the words he’d just spoken sink in, letting out a chuckle against your ear after a minute or so passed.

“Go.”

You acted on instinct only, stretching your body over to the lamp on your bedside table with the little space he had given you, the man still insisting on having his hands all over your body, your mind and thoughts reeling.

It would’ve been different if he had his mask on, the small request would have been just for him to see the marks he’d left on you, to continue whatever you’d started in the light so you’d both be able to see your body’s reactions properly, but this was oh so much more than that.

He didn’t seem to want to make a move to go get his mask or to cover his face, he was actually telling you to turn on the light so you could see him, see his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips, Simon

As soon as your shaking hand found the switch and had pressed it, your eyes closed in time for the room to be filled with light, a nervous sound leaving your lips as Simon pulled you back into place, his calloused fingers running over the length of your nose before poking at the middle of your furrowed brows.

“Y’can open them.” He whispered, his own voice sounding slightly terrified. “Please.”

“What if you’re ugly?” You blurted out as a joke, trying to lighten the mood, immediately slapping yourself mentally the moment he didn't laugh, opening your mouth to apologise only for him to poke you again.

“Jus’ open them.”

The first thing your eyes landed on was the smile pulling at his lips, leading them from the scar that adorned the left corner of his mouth past his crooked nose and up to those beautiful eyes of his, his blond eyelashes framing them perfectly like always.

And fuck… He was beautiful.

The stubble covering the lower part of his face, the scars littering his face telling stories and tales of all his time on duty, his cracked lips and scarred nose only complementing his beauty even more.

It was everything and nothing like you’d expected, it was just… him.

You didn't know what to say, what were you supposed to? But by the way his smile grew bigger at the sight of your dumbfounded face, you were sure that your expression told him everything he needed to know.

Now, Simon knew that he wasn’t the worst looking person, but the way you were staring at him like he was a god incarnates, like Aphrodite herself had given him a piece of her beauty, it didn’t fail to tint his cheek a soft pink, quickly leaning into you to meet you in another kiss in hopes of hiding how flustered he was from you.

“Mhf-” You tried speaking as soon as you had regained consciousness through his kisses, a giggle leaving your lips as he gave you no time to speak. “You’re- Mm- S- so pretty, Si-”

Pretty? He thought to himself as he continued his kissing assault, the adjective a very foreign concept, never having been referred to in that way in his life. But, it did feel nice when you said it, the way you were looking at him with that sultry gaze as the compliment oozed out of your mouth like honey, it had him grabbing at your thighs for stability, wrapping them around his waist and letting you make contact with the product of your make-out session and cute words.

“F-fuck!” You mewled, grabbing at the back of his head for stability, tugging at the roots of his dirty blond hair, shivering underneath him as he let out a breathy groan, the sound sending pleasurable shocks down to where you both were connected, despite the amount of clothes that separated you both. “W-Wait- Hng!”

He stopped as soon as the word left your mouth, pulling back and moving his hands to hold your waist, giving you some time to regain your breath before asking.

“‘vrything okay?” He said breathlessly, looking down at your equally dishevelled state, your lips red and sore from all his kissing and body littered with all the marks he’d left, taking a few seconds to admire his handiwork and how truly fucking perfect you looked covered in his claims before going back to waiting on you.

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, breathing and heart pulse erratic, coming down from the sudden pleasure. “I- I’m sorry, I just don’t know if I want to continue- Sor-”

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you, grabbing your thighs and pulling them away from their spot around his waist, pushing them together and placing them away from him, placing a comforting hand on the one that was still pressed next to his. “We don’t have to. Whatever y’want, love. ‘S been a long time, I get it.”

You nodded, sending him a small smile that he returned in an instant, leaning up to press a final kiss to his lips, thankful that he’d understood your fears so quickly.

“You’ll stay, right?” You mumbled against his lips after pulling away slightly, looking at his through half-closed eyes, his deep beautiful pools staring back at you.

“Always.”

His arms wrapped around you from behind once you situated yourself back in the bed, arms pressed tight and securely against our stomach as his thumb rubbed over the skin, a constant reminder that he was there and that you were safe like he’d promised, soft kisses being pressed against your nape from behind, a sweet contrast to the bites that now littered your front.

“‘You going to wear the mask again?” You spoke drowsily, turning your head slightly so his lips pressed against your cheek, his breath tickling your ear.

“Not unless you want me to.” He mumbled back, half-asleep.

“Rather you did… Can’t focus with that ugly mug of yours…” You teased, letting out a high pitched yell as he bit down onto the space between your neck and shoulder, immediately soothing the pain with a kiss and a chuckle.

“Only mug you’ll se ‘round here, lovie, better get used to it.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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pucksandpower · 1 year

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Hi! you might see multiple requests from me in the future. Anyway can I request a IG AU for carlos Sainz and reader where her best friend took a photo of her holding multiple positive pregnancy tests and is in shock and posted it to the readers story so everyone is in shock thinking that the reader is pregnant, carlos + other drivers think she’s pregnant too. But it just turns out the bestie is pregnant and the reader and her bestie unfollowed the besties husband so the friends can know about the pregnancy and surprise the besties husband. Im so sorry if that did not make sense it was long. Ignore this if you want❤️

if you’re also able to tag me if you do post this it would be amazing?❤️ have a wonderful week

Carlos Sainz x wife!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nsainz posted a story

*y/nsainz’s story is no longer available*

y/nsainz

Liked by carlossainz55, f1wagupdates, and 372,865 others

y/nsainz surprise! i’m not pregnant. while i want to thank everyone for the well wishes, those pregnancy tests belonged to a friend and i have no idea how they even ended up on my story. carlos and i hope to extend our family in the future but a baby sainz has not yet been conceived. that being said, the outpouring of support that we and our hypothetical child received makes us more certain than ever that any child we bring into this world will be surrounded by love ❤️

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carlossainz55 fingers crossed i find out about our baby before instagram does next time

y/nsainz you can’t hold that over me because there is no baby to find out about in the first place

carlossainz55 we can change that 😏

f1wagupdates the rollercoaster of emotions i just experienced 😵‍💫

carlossainz55 you and me both

y/nsainz

Liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 425,938 others

y/nsainz baby sainz coming soon (for real this time)

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landonorris are you sure?

charles_leclerc maybe you should double check just in case, we don’t want a repeat of babygate

y/nsainz i’m pretty certain that the little feet kicking my organs every two seconds very much belong to the very real baby currently growing in me

f1wagupdates oh my god it’s really happening! we’re getting a baby sainz 😭

tifositalking i’m almost waiting for someone to jump out and yell “punked”

feralferrari right? i have trust issues after what happened the first time 🫣

carlossainz55

Liked by y/nsainz, scuderiaferrari, and 964,273 others

carlossainz55 fake baby sainz may have caused mass chaos but it also made us realize how much we want an actual baby sainz

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scuderiaferrari congratulations to you both! maybe we should have kept the baby clothes for a little longer

landonorris my godchild 🧡

y/nsainz says who?

landonorris please, i already got them a miniature version of my race suit

charles_leclerc congrats mate! uncle charles reporting for duty 🫡

carlossainz55 thank you, lord perceval! we will make sure to remember that when it’s time to change diapers

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zepskies · 1 month

Text

Take Me Home - Part 6

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tinge of spice~

❤️ Series Masterlist

“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked.

He stood there with determination set across his face.

“We really need to talk.”

“We already did! Just leave me the hell alone,” you said. If your day hadn’t been long already, you knew it was about to be even longer.

Because just as you began to close the door, Michael slapped a hand on the center of it and pushed his way into your apartment.

You gasped and had to back up a couple of steps. “What are you doing?”

“Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave,” Michael said, staring down into your eyes. “That’s all I want.”

He pushed the door closed behind him, but it swung open, just a crack. In his heated state, he hadn’t even noticed. Neither did you. You stepped back further into the center of the living room and crossed your arms with an angry frown.

“I don’t care!” you snapped. Your patience quota for the day had run out a long time ago. “I just want to be done. Don’t you get that?”

“I know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Now in the light of day and not a dusky bar, you could see the darkness under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks, though he was usually clean-shaven.

“I know and I’m sorry. I hurt you badly, and I never even told you why,” he said.

You tilted your head in contemplation. Because he was right. For all these months, you’d been so incensed at the bare facts of what he’d done, you’d never looked too deeply into the why.

The one time you’d asked him (while throwing his clothes and possessions out of your shared apartment at the time), he’d never given you a good answer.

“Okay, fine. Why did you do it then?” you asked. “Why did you betray me in the worst way possible, and still try to marry me?”

Michael sighed, his shoulders sinking. “The truth?”

That sparked your anger once more.

“No, keep lying to me like you’ve done from the very start!” you retorted.

“It wasn’t from the start!” he barked back. “It was around six months in, when we were dating. You and I had argued about something stupid. Kate came over to talk it out with me…just to talk. I swear to God. But we were drinking and…”

You let out a sigh, casting your gaze upwards. You really didn’t think you wanted to hear this after all. Michael earned your attention back though, when he took a step forward into your orbit.

“She got pregnant,” he admitted.

Your mouth fell open as your breath left your lungs. Your hands went to your temples in disbelief, and you made a sound of pure shock and distress.

“But she lost the baby early on,” he said. “She was devastated. I was too, but…I tried to help her through it. And it became this, this thing that wouldn’t let go of me. She wouldn’t let me go.”

You shook your head as furious tears welled up in your eyes. This was just too ridiculous and upsetting to compute. You didn’t even recognize the man that was standing in front of you anymore.

How could he blame Kate for what they’d done to you, and for clinging to him after losing her baby? How could he keep that from you, even when he asked you to marry him?

And how could he tell you all of this now and expect you to forgive him?

You didn’t have the words, but you held out a hand against him when he tried to take another step toward you.

“I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up. But you don’t have to come all the way here to run away,” he said. “Your parents miss you. Our friends…they all love you. And most of them rightly don’t want anything to do with me.”

He looked down then, with shame coloring his features.

Through your tears and the struggle of collecting yourself, you studied him closely with your arms crossed.

You’d known Michael for several years. Even considering the months you two had been apart, you knew he was the same—stubborn and hot-headed and full of audacity as ever. But…he also seemed genuinely remorseful. And desperate.

“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” he said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process. “Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”

You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were a crisp dark blue, and yet, not the warm green you’d come to crave. You shook your head.

“I get it, Michael. I really do…but I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “It’s too damn much.”

You began to slip your hand out of his, but he held you a fraction tighter. He frowned.

“Are you seeing someone? Is it that guy from the other night? That cop?” Michael asked.

“Stop it,” you warned in anger. Beau was part of the reason your heart held pain, but it wasn’t the main reason you wanted to be done with Michael Hadley.

You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you, instead, trying to bring you closer.

“That’s not an answer,” he said in frustration. “Please, we can start over—”

“Let go!” you demanded. You yanked your hand out of his, and the rest came on instinct.

Your slap was loud against his cheek, and it made your hand sting too. You also pushed him hard in the chest. Michael was forced to step back while holding his reddening face. He looked back at you in disbelief.

You were breathing hard, shocked even at yourself. You’d never done that before in your life, but then again, never had you felt the panic of a man holding you against your will.

Michael’s brows furrowed. He called to you in a pleading tone, and he reached for your arm to placate you.

You quickly stepped back again on reflex. Your heel tripped on the tile floor and you gasped as you felt yourself careening back…onto the glass coffee table behind you.

After putting his investigation of Avery to bed for the night, Beau felt drained on all counts.

He punctuated the end of his day by calling to check up on Frank Davis, the local firehouse chief, and the father of one of the firefighters who was killed a few months back. Brett, one of the other victims, had carried the guilt of his best friend’s death to his grave.

Inevitably, that case brought up old memories for Beau. It also reminded him of you, and the situation with your firefighter ex-boyfriend. ‘Scuse me, ex-fiancé.

He also felt bad about how things ended with you in his office. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you.

As his daughter reminded him the other night, if he’d just been a bit more “open” and honest, maybe he could’ve saved his marriage.

Now with Michael likely trailing you, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t come to him, or even call him for that matter.

He seemed to be a bit of a hothead too, Beau thought. While he climbed into his truck and peeled out of the station, he debated stopping by to see you. Carla and Emily wouldn’t be getting over to his place for a couple of hours. That did give him some time.

And when it came down to it, was he a man, or was he a coward?

He knew it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t try to make this right, in whatever small way.

So with that decision made in his mind, he drove over to your apartment complex. When he parked in one of the guest spots, he noticed another one occupied by a rental car, a gray sedan.

A small tingling of unease buzzed in the back of his mind. Beau approached your building, went inside, and started up the stairs. When he began to hear raised voices, a man and a woman who sounded too much like you, that gut feeling became a red hot alarm making his chest tighten.

He took the stairs nearly two at a time to get up to the second floor, where he saw that the door to your apartment unit was cracked open. He could hear glass shattering from inside.

He sprinted down the hall, and with a hand on his gun at his belt, he swung the door open.

The first thing he saw was Michael’s tall frame standing over you, frozen in shock. You were lying on your side amidst a shattered coffee table, fallen through the wooden frame. There was glass everywhere and underneath you, with magazines and pictures and other knickknacks strewn across the floor.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Beau barked out.

Michael had turned at the sound of the door banging open. He met the sheriff with wide eyes. Beau’s expression set with a grim, angry frown. Though he willed himself to hold his temper in check, he immediately stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, pushing him back and creating space between him and you.

“Step back,” the sheriff snapped.

“Beau,” you uttered in disbelief. You had tears in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Beau. His voice was still rough, but more gentle for you. He knelt down at your side and carefully wrapped an arm around your waist to help lift you off the glass.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you raised one of your hands from the ground and blanched at the sight of a sizable piece of glass embedded in your palm. Beau’s lips flattened into a line.

He paused for a moment, turning his head back towards Michael.

“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered, in a tone that boded no argument.

And Michael offered none. He stood there with furrowed brows. He even looked on at you in worry and frustration, knowing he couldn’t help you. He could only watch the sheriff make slow movements to help you out of the glass.

“Okay, slow for me,” Beau said. He spoke to you in low, calming tones whenever you made a sound of pain. He hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you out of the coffee table’s remains.

“Easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, helping you sit on the couch. You folded your legs off to the side, so you weren’t continuing to step in the glass on bare feet. Besides your right palm, your arm and right thigh had a few bleeding cuts of various degrees.

After making a short glance at a still concerned Michael, Beau turned to you.

“Did he push you?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t fucking push her!” Michael said.

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “But he did shove his way into my apartment.”

Beau’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Michael, and his gaze demanded an answer.

“I just—I just wanted to talk! Obviously I didn’t mean for this. Goddamn it,” Michael said, wiping a frustrated hand over his face. “Are you okay?”

You sighed. Beau set a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Beau asked you.

“Oh, come on!” Michael exclaimed. Beau pointed at him with a hard stare.

“You pipe the hell down,” he said tersely. “And don’t you move a damn inch. Because if you do, so help me, it’ll just about make my day.”

He flashed the other man a look at the handcuffs (and the gun) on his belt.

Beau then returned his attention to you. You were attempting to pick the glass out of your hand. He stilled your movements with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hey, hey, wait on that for me, okay?” he asked. You looked up at him tiredly.

“It’s okay. Just let him go,” you said. You shifted your gaze to Michael. “Go back to Chicago, for real this time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael’s face became disheartened, but his eyes fell to your injured hand. Blood was streaming all the way down your forearm and dripping on the tile floor, along with the other smears of blood amongst glass.

He knew what he’d done. It made him even more sick with himself.

He turned to leave.

You watched him go, and you could no longer hold in your quiet tears. It wasn’t for him leaving. You just couldn’t believe it had all come to this.

Beau lightly squeezed your shoulder.

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. “Do me a favor and don’t move.”

“Okay,” you said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Beau tried to give you a reassuring smile. He gave into the desire to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, allowing him to brush your cheek with his fingers. You gave him a small smile back, despite your watery eyes.

Beau nodded and got up from the couch. He made swift strides out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind him. He then hastened down the hall and the stairs to catch up with Michael in the parking lot. Beau was hot on his trail to the rental car.

“Hey!” he called out.

Michael paused in his gait. He turned to face the sheriff, sporting a look of frustration.

“What?” he shot back.

“You better take her warning for the gift it is,” Beau said. He closed the distance between him and Michael, but resisted the urge to grab the other man and hurl him against the car.

“It’s time for you to go home,” Beau said. “I don’t want to see you in town. I don’t want to hear that you’re following her around or blowing up her phone. Do you hear me?”

Michael stood straighter, his jaw working in anger.

“Are you threatening me, Sheriff?” he asked.

“No. I’m thinking you’ll be smart enough to take some friendly advice,” Beau said, but his eyes were sharp. “If I have to threaten you, then we really will have a problem.”

Michael was younger, leaner, probably faster, but Beau edged him out by a couple of inches, on both height and build.

“Just let her get on with her life,” said Beau.

Fortunately, the standoff didn’t last long.

Michael’s anger soon relented, letting the guilt and shame shine through.

“Make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Tell her…that I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and walked away. Beau watched him get into his car and leave the premises.

It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine faded away that Beau released the clenched fists at his sides. He pivoted slowly on his heel and made his way back up to your apartment.

And your door was locked.

On one hand, he understood your fears. On the other hand, he’d asked you not to move from the couch.

“Who is it?” you asked, after he knocked.

“It’s just me, don’t worry,” Beau answered. You opened the door with your good hand and let him in, while holding up your bloody one with a bunch of crumpled gauze and medical tape hanging down your arm. It looked like you got the glass shard out, but you were struggling on the “wrapping it up” part.

“Oh, sweetheart, I asked you to wait for me,” he said. His brows furrowed as he took your wrist and elbow to steady you.

“Yeah, well, I got impatient,” you replied, but your attempt at a smile lightened him too.

Beau followed you to the kitchen sink and grasped your hand carefully. You’d already cleaned and sterilized the wound, so all he had to do was wrap it for you with some gauze and medical tape.

“This is kind of deep. You might wanna go to the ER,” he said. “I could take you.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s really not that deep,” you replied.

“You sure?” Beau asked, frowning at you. “How you doin’? You okay?”

Your face had been tight with pain while he tried to get the wrapping right with deft hands. At his questioning, you softened with a wry smile.

“I’m fine, more or less,” you said. “But…how…why were you here to begin with? How’d you know I was in trouble?”

Beau met your gaze for a moment. He was able to delay answering your question until he finished wrapping your hand. Afterwards, he sighed.

“I came to apologize,” he admitted. “But first, can I help you clean up around here? You just sit and relax. I’ll sweep up all this glass and mop the floor.”

You let out a long breath, your shoulders sinking. “Oh, Beau, don’t. You don’t have to do all that.”

“But see, I actually want to,” he said, giving you one of those grins you’ve come to know and expect. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Okay.”

A thorough sweep, vacuum, and mopping, then a couple of cracked open beers and an order of Chinese later (plus cleaning and patching up the rest of your cuts), Beau sat next to you at the dining table and officially made his apology.

“I’m sorry for how things turned out today at the precinct,” he said.

You shook your head. You’d had some time to think about all of that, and there were things you could’ve handled better too.

“Beau, look. I get it,” you said. “You’re dealing with a lot at work, with Carla and Emily too, and…really, we haven’t known each other all that long. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to open up on something that clearly still hurts you. Especially in the middle of your office.”

Beau let out a breath through his nose. He smiled and laid a gentle hand over your uninjured one, earning your widened gaze.

“You’re a sweetheart for that, but the truth is, you had a point today,” he said. “I’m a difficult man to know. It’s a flaw of mine that my ex-wife has pointed out several times. And even my daughter. Sometimes she looks at me like she can’t understand me.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You debated asking the question you wanted to ask. With his hand over yours, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, you were able to gather your courage.

“Does it have something to do with the reason you were in grief counseling?” you asked. “About your partner on the job?”

Beau nodded, his smile fading. “Yeah, it does. It has a lot to do with Randy.”

He took a moment, but you gave him the time he needed to find his words. Eventually he began to explain to you what happened in Houston.

How he’d been an upper-level officer dealing with a narcotics case. His partner, Randy Santos, had volunteered to infiltrate a drug cartel undercover. He stayed in the field for a few months longer than protocol, but he was so close, he’d claimed. One bust, and they could arrest the kingpin. The entire cartel would crumble.

Beau had backed him up with the Chief, against his better judgment. When the time came that Randy had helped arrange a drug deal, Beau was the one leading the squad on the bust.

“It went south so fast,” he said.

And he paused in his story for a moment. His eyes were far away, lost in memories.

You squeezed his hand over yours to bring him back. He met your gaze.

“When it got down to it, I had two choices,” he said. “Take out the boss, or take out the guy right in front of me, Dante. Now, Dante had his back turned. He couldn’t see me. Would’ve been fish in a barrel…but I went for the head of the snake. I shot the kingpin. I didn’t realize that Dante had already burned Randy. Knew he was a cop.”

Beau met your gaze then. “Dante shot Randy in the head, point blank.”

Your mouth fell open in disheartened shock. Beau took a long sip of his beer, wishing it was whiskey.

“I saw it all…in slow motion. Just like the movies,” he said. “I see it almost every night, without fail.”

You shook your head helplessly. “Beau. It’s not—”

“Not my fault?” Beau gave you a sad smile. “Oh, but it was. Nothing else to it. Bad leadership. bad police work. Bad friend.”

He continued to drink his beer.

“And I checked out,” he said. “My wife and daughter paid the price of my absence. Picking myself off the bottom of whatever crusty bar would have me that night. Refusing to go to counseling. Generally making an ass of myself.”

You covered his hand with your bandaged one. It got him to look at you and forget his beer for a moment.

“It was a hard call,” you said. “Anyone could’ve made the same one you did.”

“Yeah. And it got my best friend killed,” Beau said. “His wife, his ten-year-old boy, his parents. They’ll never be the same because I messed up. I can’t abide that.”

He sucked in an unsteady breath. “It still…sometimes I wake out of a dead sleep, and I see his face. I see the body they brought back.”

His eyes were red and shining. The emotion in his voice choked you up as well, making your eyes sting.

You raised a hand to touch his cheek, your thumb drifting tenderly across his chin.

“You’re not a difficult man to know,” you said. A tear found its way down your cheek, and then another. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you care. About your team, your family, everyone…even messy, accident-prone women.”

You gave him a smile at the last bit. He was able to give you one back, through his own unsteady breath.

“Especially those,” he agreed. Your hand moved down to his shoulder.

“And you also like to eat. A lot,” you quipped. “I think you’ve got about three stomachs.”

“Probably four, realistically,” he said with a tearful laugh. He wiped at his face with both hands. You waited for him to meet your gaze again before you continued.

“You’re also an old-fashioned cowboy,” you said, with a brighter smile. Your hand slid down, this time to his chest, over his heart. “But you’re a good man, Beau. That, I knew from the very beginning.”

Beau clasped your hand where it lay on his chest, almost on reflex. He was sure you could feel his heart tripping up, double timing. He reached out for your cheek, guiding your face up to his. He leaned over slowly, giving you time to say no, whether with words or with actions.

But your eyes, though still a bit shiny from tears, were nothing but beautifully welcoming. So he took a shot. He began to cross the distance between your lips and his.

And his phone buzzed on the table, making both of you jolt.

It was just a text message. Frowning, Beau looked over and read the preview. When he saw Emily’s name, he cursed under his breath. He reached for his phone and opened up the message.

Hey, where are you?

“Shit,” he said. “Emily’s been staying with me all week and Carla’s joining us tonight, to be safe. They’re there already, asking where I am.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed beyond measure, but you nodded.

“Then you should go,” you said.

You squeezed his hand before you released him. Beau wasn’t happy about it either, but he did the same. He helped you clean up the dining table and gathered up his wallet and keys. You walked him over to the front door, where Beau debated how he should leave this.

The door was open, literally and figuratively as you leaned against its frame. You couldn’t hide your unease. You didn’t know where this left the two of you either.

Beau sighed and propped a curled finger under your chin, earning your gaze.

“I need to settle some things. After…” he trailed. You nodded at what he was trying to say.

“When Carla and Emily have stability again, we can talk,” you finished for him. “I’ll be here.”

He looked at you in wonder.

“You’ll really wait for that?” he asked. His brows creased, and he truly marveled at your patience with him. “You know you don’t have to.”

A smile curved your lips. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for, Sheriff Arlen.”

Beau grinned at you fondly. He cupped the side of your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Really, thank you…”

Lord help him, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally crossed the distance and kissed you.

Your chest rose with your breath, but when your eyes fell shut, you couldn’t help but melt against him. You gripped the front of his buttoned-down shirt for stability while his fingers tangled in your hair. It all grew with heat when he tilted his head, tasting you deeper with each new kiss.

He pressed you into the doorframe, trapping your body with his. You held onto him like a lifeline.

While his hands drifted down your back and rested on your hips, bunching the material of your pretty yellow sundress, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. He felt your every curve, soft breasts and thighs and sweet sighs.

He released a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. His lips veered away from yours to burn a slow trail down to your neck. He was satisfied by the way you moaned and struggled to catch your breath at his ministrations.

Your fingers wound up sweeping through his hair. It both soothed and aroused him, somehow. But Beau knew if he didn’t stop here, he wouldn’t be able to again.

He laid one last kiss under your ear that hinted with teeth, making you shudder. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. You two breathed together for a moment, just existing here, hearts racing.

“I gotta go,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You nodded, biting your lip. He pulled back further and thumbed at your lower lip.

“Don’t do that, or I just might have to go back on my word,” he said, giving you a smirk.

You smiled in amusement. “Promise?”

Beau chuckled. He stole one more heated kiss before he withdrew from you, his hand lingering on your cheek. Heaving a sigh, you turned him around by his broad shoulders and reluctantly sent him on his way.

Halfway down the hall, he slowed to look back at you. Seeing you leaning against your door, still catching your breath, all hot and bothered…it nearly broke his resolve.

“Nope,” he muttered.

He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking until he hit the stairwell for the umpteenth time today.

He would stop three more times on the way to his car before he actually left your building.

AN: 😘 So, how'd you like the official "end" of Michael Hadley? And finally, finally, we get to a first kiss. In Part 7, we enter some even deeper waters...

Next Time:

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”

“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.

“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.

“Okay,” you nodded.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 7

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harryslittlefreakk · 25 days

Text

a corner of the heath

late night talking series extra!

summary: y/n and harry’s first ‘official’ date following his wembley shows

warnings: fluff, smut (unprotected public sex & foreplay)

wordcount: 2k

a/n: i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long but here it is! i have two more extras planned for LNT and then we’re done <3 i can’t believe all the love on this series thank you all SO much for continuing to read and enjoy it

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here! 🫶🏼 happy reading

“Come on, come on, come on!” You’d been trying to get through to Joanie’s phone for at least five minutes now. She had the perfect dress for you to wear, and all you had were concert outfits stained from cheap feather boas.

“Hello? Are you okay?” Joanie’s voice suddenly sounded from the other end of the phone.

“No, I’m not okay! I have a date and I need your white dress. Please please please with a cherry on top,” you babbled, setting your phone down on the counter top. “God I look like death,” you groaned, wiping your hands down your face.

“A date with Harry?!” Joanie squealed.

“Yeeeees and I might not get another one without your dress.”

“Do you want me to bring it to you? Do you need makeup? Hair stuff? Oh please let me stay while you get ready.”

“Yes for bringing it to me please, no for the other stuff, a million times yes for staying,” you laughed, Joanie’s infectious excitement starting to rub off on you. Truthfully, you dreaded the day that you stopped being nervous to see Harry. Just hearing his name gave you a rush of anxious butterflies, your heart rate quickening at the mere thought of him. It had sent you into a week-long spin, but it was a rollercoaster you never wanted to stop riding.

—

“You look so beautiful,” Joanie cooed, smoothing out the skirt of your white minidress. “Stop, you’re like my mum,” you laughed, swatting her hands away.

“Let me come with you,” she pleaded, holding up her hands in prayer. “No.”

“Please please please! It’s on my way home. I don’t even have to be with you. I’ll just look from afar and then I’ll go,” Joanie continued, a hopeful grin plastered on her face.

“He does want to meet you,” you smiled. “Fine. You can say hello and then you’re leaving - and don’t be weird. Please don’t be weird.” You held out your little finger for a pinky promise. Joanie hooked hers around yours, throwing her arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

—

“Hi, little darling,” Harry smiled when he saw you approaching, a picnic basket hanging from one of his hands. He looked delicious, a white t-shirt and linen slacks loose on his toned body. He wrapped you in a tight hug, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You look incredible,” he whispered against your skin.

When what sounded like an excited mouse squeaked from behind you, he pried his eyes from your figure to peer at your tag along. “You must be the famous Joanie,” Harry grinned, throwing an arm around her. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Joanie was bouncing on her heels silently, her grin so big it threatened to split her face in two. She started nodding like a bobble head, finally bringing herself to say hello. You shook your head, laughing as you grabbed her hand. “I’ll speak to you later, okay? Get home safe. Say hi to Tom from me.” She was still nodding and grinning as she walked away, waving mindlessly to you and Harry as you giggled.

“You are a vision,” you told Harry as you turned to him, taking his hand in yours. Harry's eyes sparkled with warmth as he gazed at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "And you are a dream," he replied, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. The sun was shining, casting a golden glow around the two of you as you stood in the park, surrounded by the sounds of nature and the distant hum of city life.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Harry reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a bottle of champagne, pulling out the cork with a satisfying pop. He poured the bubbly liquid into two glasses, handing one to you with a wink. "To our first date," he grinned, raising his glass in a toast.

You clinked your glass against his, the sweet taste of champagne dancing on your tongue. As you settled down on the picnic blanket, he held a hand under your chin, pulling your face closer to him. “Y’so beautiful, can’t get over it,” he cooed, planting 6 lingering kisses to your lips. “One for every day,” he whispered against your smile.

“Sorry about Joanie,” you cringed, screwing up your face as you thought back to her reaction to meeting him. “She’s cute,” he laughed. “I can see why you get along.”

“What do you mean? I’m way cooler than she is. Didn’t even bat an eye when I met you,” you teased.

“That’s what you think,” Harry chuckled, pulling you back into his body until your back rested against your chest. “I saw your jaw go when you clocked me.”

“Oh yeah? That’s why you took me home. Stroked your ego,” you smirked, staring out across the park.

“Oh yes. Exactly that. It’s so rare that I get to meet anyone who knows who I am.” Harry poked at your cheek playfully, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence, stray giggles escaping every few minutes.

“Do you not think it’s insane?” you asked Harry after a while, tilting your head back to look up at him. “What?”

“If neither of us had gone to that Starbucks, or even at different times, or you never needed that napkin, we’d never have met.”

Harry laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. “I never needed a napkin. Jus’ wanted to talk to you,” he confessed, a coy smirk playing on his lips. You gasped, mouth falling open as you swatted at his leg. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Couldn’t think of anything else to say,” Harry told you, his fingertips drawing patterns on your inner thigh. You leaned further back into him, a warm blush creeping up your cheeks as something buzzed inside of you. The Harry Styles, your ultimate celeb crush, had pondered over what to say to you. And now you were sitting here on your first date after a week of incredible sex and cuddles with him. If someone had come back from the future and told you all this, you’d have laughed them out the room. But it was true, it was real.

“What you thinking about?” Harry asked, his voice soft. “You,” you grinned. “Just so crazy, all of this.”

“Mhmm, I‘m crazy about you.” His fingers were trailing further up your dress, still tracing mindless patterns as he got closer to your centre. You uncrossed your legs slightly, breath catching in your throat at the thought of Harry touching you here, where anyone could see you. If it wasn’t for the wine and the high that came from his presence, you’d have clamped your legs shut and refused him entry. You’d made a silent promise to yourself to try not to sleep with Harry and treat your first date like it was the first time you’d met him. But he just did something to you, and you couldn’t resist catering to his every need.

“Gonna let daddy show you how crazy he is about you?” Harry asked, his voice suddenly low and husky.

You pulled the spare blanket he’d bought over your legs to maintain at least some decency as he pulled your panties to the side, his fingertips finding your clit with ease. Harry always navigated your body as if he’d known it in a previous life, as if it were the only body he’d ever touched. He knew your wants and needs even before you realised them, always one step ahead of you.

He pulled you back into him, his lips trailing soft kisses along your neck. His fingers worked into you, the angle pushing his palm against your sensitive clit. You were writhing under his touch, soft pants slipping past your lips. “Got to be quiet, angel,” Harry whispered against your skin, nipping at your neck. His fingers fucked into you faster, one hand wrapping around your throat to quiet you as heat spreads throughout your body. “Baby,” you whimpered softly, your hand clenching around his wrist as it moved against your pussy, the friction against your clit almost too much to take. It was warm under the afternoon sun, but the heat spreading between your legs was almost enough to burn you alive. Beads of sweat formed on your chest, your skin becoming sticky in Harry’s grip, as you tried desperately to keep your moans in.

“Want more, Harry,” you moaned, pulling his hand away. The way he could fuck you was both a blessing and a curse. His hands and mouth worked wonders, but his cock had you shaking and coming around him in minutes. If you had to choose between the two, you’d choose his cock all day long. Harry chuckled, watching as you turned around and straddled his thighs. He pressed his two glistening fingers to your lips, silently urging you to have a taste of your juices. You sucked them into your mouth, a tiny moan vibrating in your throat as your tongue licked him clean.

“Got to stay quiet now, okay kitten?” he warned, fiddling with the button on his slacks. You nodded, fluffing out the skirt of your dress as he lined himself up with your entrance, his rock hard tip already angry and red. Sex had never been a huge thing for you in relationships, and you’d certainly never been fucked as often as you had in the last week. But it was like being on a different planet with Harry, like you existed in a different reality with your needs and desires laid out before you. He was as hungry for you as you were for him, lust and yearning held in his gaze whenever he was around you.

Harry slipped into you easily, his girth no more at home than when it was nestled against your g-spot. He started guiding you with a firm hold on your hips, his mouth falling open every time you rolled against him. “That’s my girl,” he groaned, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. If anyone saw, they’d know what you were doing in seconds. But neither of you could bring yourself to care, not with the ecstasy of your bodies connected again.

His hips rutted as you locked eyes with him, your lashes fluttering as his groin rubbed against your clit. Spurred on by your choked moan, Harry held you a few inches over his cock, his finger tips digging in to the meat of your ass. He was drilling up into you, your head falling against his shoulder as you tried to hold yourself together a little while longer. “I’m not gonna last-” you panted, feeling the familiar burn spreading through your core.

“Come for me baby, let it all out,” Harry whispered into your ear. “Gonna do that f’me?”

“Yeah,” you whined, hips rolling against his in desperation to reach your climax. But his movements ceased, his cock stilling inside of you as his hand came up to clutch at your throat.

“Yes what?” Harry asked, dark eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes daddy,” you panted, pawing at the collar of his shirt. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk as his movements resumed, his cock drilling into you with a power he’d been holding back before.

Your clit was throbbing, entrance on fire as he pounded into you, driven by a purpose now. It took one final thrust to tip you over the edge, your mouth hanging open as you mewled into Harry’s tanned skin. “Fuck, kitten,” he panted, cock twitching at your core as your walls constricted, milking him for all he had. His come was like a comfort to you at this point, a feeling you were so used to and so in love with.

You sat up on your knees and waited to him to make himself decent, cringing as your soaked panties slipped back across your entrance. When you heard his flies zip back up, you stepped off him, throwing yourself down flat onto the blanket, chest still heaving.

Harry mirrored you, his fingers finding yours as his eyes wandered over to your face. “M’gonna say it over and over - y’are completely and utterly perfect.”

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry edward styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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springalwayscomes · 10 months

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Closer (Teaser)

Read Closer here

Plot: To have each other close is something that you both always wanted, in a way or another. It’s just that… close is not close enough anymore for Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/n

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Domestic, Humor, Friends to Lovers

Wordcount: 27k

Author’s Note: Hello! I hope you’ll like this little teaser, I will publish the story on the 16 of July. I loved writing this, it was an emotional rollercoaster and I honestly can’t wait to post it. I really hope that you’ll like it🥺

If you want to be tagged in my taglist to read this work when it will come out and my others please let me know under this post or here! Also, asks and messages are always welcome, I would like to speak with you all from time to time!💜

Jungkook walked in on you using your vibrator as a microphone when you were nineteen, lipsynching as if your life depended on it. He had laughed so fucking loud that time that you still feel your ears grow red when you think about it. He has teased you for it from the moment it happened, still does it now.

Back then, it was so freaking hilarious he would bring it up every time you were too mad at him, to make you laugh it off and let go of the heavy atmosphere creating between you every time you used to fight as teenagers.

Five years afterwards, as of now, he still thinks about it from time to time. It makes him giggle when he’s in the middle of a meeting at work, when he has a stressful day, when he’s just laying in bed with his head empty. Usually, that would be the case. Now that you’re sitting on his couch with a bag of pop corns squished in your hands while the tv is playing though, is a new circumstance.

«What are you laughing at? You’re so loud» you wince at him, monotone and annoyed.

He licks his lips, shaking his head.

«Your vibrator still haunts me»

It takes you less than two seconds to realise what he’s talking about.

«You’re so annoying. Should I bring up the time you farted out loud in class too?»

«That’s not the same,» he laughs «I told you that I wasn’t feeling good but you insisted on going to class anyway»

«You didn’t go for three days straight-» you fight back, stopping yourself when the camera points on Park Seojun.

«Gosh, this man. I’m gonna marry him someday» you sigh dreamily. Jungkook snorts.

«Cause I was sick?» he opens the fridge.

«You drank with Jin the night before. You shouldn’t drink if you’re sick. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold it until class was over»

«You’re so noisy» he rummages through the shelves, finally finding the bowl of strawberries he was looking for.

«Want some?»

You quickly glance at him over the counter, pop corns stuffing your mouth full.

«No, thanks. I’m full with these»

He gets a spoon from the drawer, walking back to the sofa.

«The face you made when I walked in is still funnier than-»

«When you farted in front of the class?» you cut him off, trying to get some sense in his head.

«Hell, yeah» he laughs.

«You literally-»

«Okay, now stop!» you slap his ass before he gets a chance to sit down.

«Oh, yes keep going» he fakes a moan. You literally want to slap him hard enough to make him stop being an idiot, but you have to hold yourself back.

«Just shut up and let me see Park Seojun» you shake your head. Jungkook gets a spoonful of strawberries into his mouth, eyes falling on the screen and eyebrows pinched together.

It’s a Saturday, thanks God the both of you don’t work on weekends, so usually you both find yourself on the sofa, watching a movie or just messing around. You’ve known each other since you were sixteen, so to say that you’re pretty comfortable with each other is an understatement. Even when you first met him, the nineteen years old Jungkook never made you feel uneasy. You were inseparable. Best friends that used to sleep at each other’s place every three to four days because you were just used to it. It was natural, so natural that a lot of the people around you thought you were a couple. Back then, you would grimace and shake your head vividly, not even giving it a thought. Jungkook would laugh it off, heart beating loudly in his chest every time anyone made him imagine how it would’ve been.

«Do you still have it?» he asks, voice low as he stares at the screen.

«What?» you murmur. He doesn’t answer, his spoon scraping against the plastic of the bowl to get as much strawberries as he can into his mouth. He munches on them, gulping down and enjoying the sweet taste.

«That vibrator»

«Jungkook! What kind of question is that?» you stop the drama, his thigh getting hit by the remote.

«I was just asking!» he raises his hands as to make sure you understand he meant no harm, the bowl now sitting on his lap.

«Why would you ask that?» your tone makes his eyes smile first, as he always does. His eyes smile first, then his lips just follow.

«Why are you so sensitive about it? I won’t ask, but we both know you still use it» he gets up from the couch, getting to the sink to put the empty bawl inside.

«We say filthier things when we’re in bed!» he goes on from where he’s standing at. Your head is going to explode. It’s at times like this that you rethink about your life choices. From being sixteen and dumb, until you’re twenty four and ending up with sleeping with your best friend.

«In bed! Leave those for when we’re in bed!» you fight back, another pop corn getting shoved into your mouth.

«Okay,» he appears by your side «wanna go to bed so I can ask you?»

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holllandtrash · 11 months

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death of me | carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x reader

in short, the three times you didn't tell carlos you loved him and the one time it was almost too late.

i actually had 2 requests with these prompts so this is those requests 1: “You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want” 11: “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you when I knew I did.” 94: “Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”

Word count: 9.8k

warnings/tags: 18+ angst, fluff, plot with some smut, very light dom/sub blink and you miss it, this is a goddamn rollercoaster im sorry

17 August 2023

You got the call and honestly, you thought it was a joke. Some horrible, practical joke that someone in your life had set up because they knew it would get to you.

Which is why you laughed when you heard the person on the other line say, “There’s been an accident.”

“Yeah, okay,” you snorted, rolling your eyes as you dried the bowl in your hand, finally getting to the stack of dishes you had been neglecting since this morning. “Who put you up to this?”

“No, this isn’t a joke, Miss,” the woman on the line said. “I’m calling from the Jiminez Diaz Hospital. There’s been an accident. Carlos Sainz Jr. was involved in a car accident. He’s-

You didn't hear the rest of whatever the nurse had to say. The ringing in your eyes drowned her out, along with the bowl slipping from your grasp and crashing onto the floor, pieces of blue ceramic shattered around your feet.

Frozen, you tried to listen to the calming voice on the other end of the line, the voice telling you that he was undergoing surgery. She couldn’t provide any more additional information, but she encouraged you, as his emergency contact, to come to the hospital as soon as you possibly could.

As you hurried to find your keys, your relationship with Carlos flashed before your eyes. Every moment, every laugh, every kiss, every fight, every word said and unsaid.

And god there were way too many words you hadn’t got the chance to say.

31 December 2022

Carlos grabbed hold of your waist and you giggled before slipping out of his hold, reaching for the bottle of champagne on top of the fridge. He tried to take it from you, knowing that you probably weren’t going to be able to successfully open it but you just aimed the cork in his direction and he backed off.

“That’s the third bottle,” Carlos told you, he wasn’t scolding, just casually pointing out that you were going to have a massive headache tomorrow morning.

“And it’s about to be the twenty-third year,” you said. Which was technically incorrect, but Carlos admired your excitement too much to correct you. You pointed the bottle in the direction of the hallway and he braced himself for the cork to go flying.

When you managed to pop it off without his help, the bubbly liquid came pouring out the side and you laughed as you held it up above Carlos’ face, instructing him to open his mouth. He listened, but your aim was horrible and the champagne spilled down the side of his chin.

“Here,” Carlos said, taking the bottle from you. You looked up at him and smiled, needing to take a second to focus on him and not on how the walls behind him were spinning. Carlos’ touch was soft as he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, opening your mouth enough for him to pour some of the champagne down your throat as well.

You were drunk, but you were still standing so you considered that a win. You just needed to last twelve more minutes till midnight and then you could collapse on the couch with him if you wanted.

The two of you were supposed to go out to a house party that his friend was throwing. But then you walked out of the bedroom wearing a silk red dress that stopped at your thighs and your hair in perfect waves that looked ideal for Carlos to tangle his fingers through and he quickly decided that he didn’t want to share you going into the New Year. The only person he wanted to celebrate with was you.

So he grabbed one of the champagne bottles and picked you up, hoisting you over his shoulder as you squealed. He carried you back into the room you just walked out of and as much as he admired the dress on you, it looked so much better stained with champagne and crumpled on the floor.

You had only been together a few weeks, you were still in the honeymoon stage, which is part of the reason why you were more than happy to just stay at home with him tonight. You couldn’t get enough of him, and Carlos felt the same.

Carlos worshipped you. He had ever since the night you first met, which just so happened to be the first time you slept together.

He wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a hookup after catching his eye at the club. You were supposed to go home the next morning, but how could you go home when he woke you up by leaving a trail of kisses down your naval and then across your thighs before he dove into your centre. He worked his tongue through your folds, not slowing until you were seeing stars.

When you did finally cum, legs convulsing around him, Carlos licked up every drop of your juices and then his lips found their way back to yours. He told you he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue and that was when you knew you were absolutely fucked.

Carlos knew your body, he knew how to pleasure you in ways you didn’t even know were possible. It was the sexual drive and the lust between you that drove you to him in the first place, but you stayed for so much more.

You stayed because he memorised your coffee order after the first morning you spent together. You stayed because he listened to you talk about your family for, you timed it, three and a half hours because he wanted to hear all about the ties and the drama and the people that raised you. You stayed because Carlos treated every date like the first one, always looking for ways to impress you, to make you blush or smile.

So there were, four weeks later and ignoring his friends and the promise you made to celebrate New Years Eve with them, because let’s face it, Carlos much preferred having you on your knees in front of him than having to make small talk until the clock struck midnight.

His fingers twisted through your hair as he released into your mouth and pulled out of you, but before you could swallow he kept your mouth open with a tight grip on your chin. Carlos grabbed the champagne bottle next to him and poured the bubbly liquid down your throat. The subtle twitch of his eyebrow was the instruction you were waiting for and you swallowed, tasting the sweet and salty mixture of champagne and him.

You spent your evening tangled up in the sheets, you on top of him, him on top of you. When you left for a moment to go grab a second bottle of champagne, Carlos followed and hoisted you up on the counter, picking up right where you left off.

Now you were drunk. It was the champagne, yes, but it was also Carlos. He was intoxicating, he made you feel bubbly more than the drink itself did. He’s the one you couldn’t get enough of. With his shaggy, dark hair and even darker gaze, you pulled his face to yours and wiped the excess liquid from his chin. You sucked on the pad of your thumb, your lips pulling back into a devious smirk as Carlos groaned, dropping his face to the crook of your neck.

“Tú serás la muerte de mí,” You’ll be the death of me.

“Good,” you whispered, inhaling a sharp breath when he attached his lips to your throat, nibbling and sucking on your already marked up skin. You could still feel the ghost of his fingertips from when he choked you earlier, something you both loved, but his mouth was also enough to leave you gasping for air.

He knew you, he knew your body. He anticipated your reaction every time he touched you. And while you both thought you were taking a break to be able to catch the countdown, even having put on one of his shirts to keep his eyes from wandering, you were almost ready to drag him back to the bedroom because Carlos Sainz Jr. was also going to be the death of you.

But it was New Years Eve.

“Carlos,” you whimpered, pulling your fingers through his hair and giving him a sharp tug so he would lift his head. You hovered your lips over his, “We’ll miss the countdown.”

“I don’t care,” he chuckled, he nudged his nose against yours before connecting your lips. You both still tasted like champagne and god you couldn’t get enough of it. Carlos smiled against your lips and pulled back when he felt you pout. “What, hermosa?”

“I like the countdown,” you admitted, the volume you spoke at dropping about ten levels as you stared up at him through your lashes. “It’s like we get to start a new chapter in our lives at midnight.”

His smile didn’t fade because he loved the way you looked at the world with such a pure lens. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. You expected him to kiss you again but he just pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“The only chapters I care about are the ones with you in it.”

You were drunk, but god did that line sober you up.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol flowing through your system or if it was because your heart was beating too fast for your own good, but your lips parted with the intent of saying those three little words.

Because you knew then, at that moment, you loved him.

But Carlos kissed you and swallowed the words that were dancing on the tip of your tongue. You thought that maybe that was for the better. It had only been four weeks. A month. It was too soon to tell him you loved him, you’d scare him off. You didn’t need to start a new year with a traumatised boyfriend.

So you kept it to yourself and told yourself that there would come a better time to tell him how you felt because even though you were certain you loved the man standing before you, now was not the time to say it.

But when was the time?

16 Feb 2023

You opened up the top drawer of the dresser that sat across from Carlos’ bed, but he grabbed hold of your wrist before you could pull your clothes out from it.

“Don’t,” he said, demanded basically. “Don’t pack up your things.”

Ripping your arm from his grasp, you ignored his plea and grabbed the pile of clothes that had accumulated here over the last couple months. It started as a joke, leaving your clothes here, at his place, telling him that you needed an excuse to come over.

And then one t-shirt turned into half of your closet being crammed in with his. Carlos didn’t complain once.

But you couldn’t live in this fantasy world you had created for yourselves any longer. Carlos was about to travel to Bahrain for the start of the season and then he’d head to Italy in between races and then Jeddah and then Australia and you’d be here. In Madrid.

“I’m not staying in your house while you’re travelling around the world racing,” you scoffed, hoping he could see how preposterous the idea was. He opened his mouth, giving you that same look he gave you every time he was about to bring up the idea of you travelling with him. You pointed a finger in his face, “And I’m not going with you.”

You couldn’t. You had a life here, a job here. You had no idea how other girlfriends and partners of these drivers were able to get up and leave their homes for a half of a week to support them, but you couldn’t do that.

Carlo yanked the clothes out of your hands and shoved them back into the drawer. You scowled at him, not like you were very intimidating but you tried to be.

“Carlos,” you huffed out his name. “Let me pack, let me move out. This has been fun but-”

“But nothing,” Carlos cut you off and reached for your arm once more, pulling you towards him. You had been avoiding his eyes for the last hour and he knew something was up, something that went further than just taking your clothes home. “Talk to me, hermosa.”

Carlos didn’t just know your body, he knew you. Your mannerisms, your anxious fidgeting, your facial expressions. He knew your thoughts travelling through your head before you did, the two of you were so in sync it was terrifying.

So he physically felt the heavy exhale you finally let out, forcing all of the weight you had been carrying on your shoulders into the space between you.

“Why does this feel like a break up?” He asked, trailing his hand up your arm. His touch was soft and comforting and you wished it was enough to make everything better. It should have been enough.

And your next few words didn’t just hurt you, they sliced right through Carlos.

“Because I think it is a break up.”

Carlos let go of you to rub his hands over his face before tugging them through his hair. He backed up, putting a little bit more space between your bodies because as much as he wanted to hold you and tell you that you were making a mistake, he heard the certainty in your voice. The ‘I think’ was only added for his benefit. Your mind was made up. He knew it.

And you had seemingly known it for a while, too. You knew this moment was coming.

He walked out of the room when you turned your face, no longer trying to stop you from packing up your bags. He shut the door after him, refraining from slamming it because that’s not who Carlos was. He didn’t do things out of haste and anger, he wasn’t a reactive person.

No, Carlos sat in his thoughts and his feelings and he let them simmer. He thought about the last few months and wondered if it meant anything at all to you, because he thought it did.

And now you were throwing it all away and because what? Because you didn’t want a partner who travelled for a living? You weren’t even trying to put the effort in, you were giving up before it got difficult. And who’s to say it would get difficult? Carlos’ home was still in Madrid, he would always come back to you and now you weren’t giving him the option to.

He could hear you packing from down the hall, a few drawers shutting, his closet opening and closing. This was wrong. And if it felt wrong to him he knew it must have felt wrong for you too, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

When you walked out a while later, a duffle bag over your shoulder, a small suitcase behind you, you still avoided his eyes as much as you could because you didn’t want him to know you had been crying. You didn’t want him to know that this break up was destroying you, but was ultimately the right thing to do.

Carlos stood up and approached you, still keeping his emotions in check even though it broke him to see you so hurt, so hurt over your own choices.

This could be avoided, he thought. This didn’t need to end.

You dropped the bag to the ground and inhaled a deep breath. You glanced at Carlos, but only momentarily as he stood in front of you. It was a lot easier to look at the buttons of his shirt or the rings on his hand or literally anything else because meeting his gaze was too hard.

But this is why you had to leave.

You hated goodbyes and if you had to say goodbye to him every week, if you were going to be in different countries for most of the year, if you weren’t even going to be with him, then what was the point of this relationship?

You wanted to grow with your partner and you couldn’t do that if they were a Formula 1 driver. You couldn’t grow with Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a shake of your head. He could hear the way you choked to get those words out, fighting back even more tears.

Carlos, knowing he didn’t have much a chance to convince you into staying, still lifted his hand to your face, cupping your cheek and choosing to look past the way you winced as you leaned into his touch, as if already thinking about how this would be the last time you’d feel this sense of comfort.

“Don’t do this,” Carlos said, voice timid and lanced with desperation. “Please.”

“Carlos, please don’t make this harder than it has to be-”

“I love you.”

You froze.

Even as Carlos rested his other palm against the side of your face and forced your attention on him, dipping his head as he repeated those words, you remained frozen.

“I love you,” he spoke with so much confidence it scared you. “I love you and I don’t want this to be over. It can’t be over.”

It wasn’t that you couldn’t say those words back because you didn't reciprocate them, you couldn’t say it back because it would only make things harder. Up until now, neither of you had said you loved the other. And up until now, you were perfectly happy pushing what you felt for him down because the timing never felt right and now you knew why.

Deep down you always knew that you’d find yourself needing to walk away.

He’d have an easier time letting you go if you told him you didn’t love him and while it would have been a lie, it was what he needed to hear.

You stepped back and grabbed the duffle bag off the floor, his arms fell back to his sides.

“I’m sorry, Carlos, I don’t-” you turned to the door, letting your hair fall in front of your face, “I don’t love you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He wasn’t arrogant, but he was persistent.

“Well it’s true,” you pulled the strap of the bag over your shoulder and reached for the handle of the door. If you just avoided his big brown eyes and the stare that had you hooked before either of you ever said a word, you could leave. You pulled open the door, only for him to press his palm against it and slam it shut again.

You felt his chest against your back as he stepped forward. Each breath he took was in sync with yours, because you two were always in sync, even at the worst of times.

“I don’t love you,” you repeated, raising your voice.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that, then.”

You couldn’t.

You couldn’t because the moment you turned around you would fall back into his arms. You’d let yourself get swept away by his promises and his affection and then he’d leave for a race and then another and another. You loved this bubble you created during the office season and you fell so hard so fast for Carlos, but it wasn’t meant to last.

“I’m leaving,” was all you could get, gripping the handle again and yanking the door open with such force that Carlos had no choice but to take a step back. He tried to reach for you, his fingers ghosted over yours, but there was nothing he could do to stop you.

You were gone.

June 4 2023

You kept up with the races throughout the beginning of the season. You still followed his account and all of the motorsport ones he was associated with. You didn’t dare like or comment on any of them, but you weren’t ready to let him go.

Telling Carlos you didn’t love him was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

And you didn’t let yourself look at him as you said it either, you didn’t take on any of the pain that he felt. You said the words, you broke his heart and then you left.

Carlos didn’t try to reach out once, not like you expected him to. Even when he was home between races, which wasn’t often, you’d only hear about it from social media.

But this was what you wanted, right? You wanted this life, you wanted to stay home. You didn’t want to keep chasing after a Formula 1 driver and be forced to follow him from country to country if you wanted to spend time with him. That wasn't healthy nor was it something you wanted to put yourself through.

Getting over him, however, was impossible.

And you tried, really. You went out with your friends, you distracted yourself, you picked up hobby after hobby but good god your thoughts always travelled back to him.

You fought with yourself. You kept asking yourself if you made a mistake by ending things. You kept wondering why you didn’t at least try. But then you’d see a photo of him getting into yet another plane and you knew you made the right choice.

Your lifestyles were extremely different. Your personalities were compatible, yes, but the way you went about your day to day lives would never line up. At least not while he was racing.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself, though. You liked watching him race.

When you watched from home, your eyes were always on the number 55 Ferrari. You rooted for him, you winced at every near miss, you celebrated his finishes and without fail, you always looked at your phone and thought about congratulating him via text or even a call, only to instantly decide against it.

You weren’t even that big of a Formula 1 fan before you met him, but now this seemed to be as close to him as you’d ever get again.

It didn’t help that he looked good.

Carlos pulled off those red racing overalls. And when they hung low around his hips and the fireproofs clung to his skin, god you wanted to scream at yourself for letting him go. You could have been there, at the races, if you just put a little more effort in. You could have been the one to rip the fireproofs off his body after he got out of the car, because let's face it, after some of the runs he’s had this season, you knew he was probably needing an outlet to release some of that pent up energy and frustration.

You missed running your fingers through his hair. You missed the feeling of his lips tracing every inch of your skin. You missed waking up next to him and seeing your legs tangled together with the sheets. You missed that he was always looking for a reason to touch you, whether it be your wrist or your pinky finger or your back, his hand was always on you.

You missed Carlos.

You loved Carlos.

Which was why your judgement was a little clouded when your friend invited you to Barcelona the weekend of the grand prix, not to watch the race because god knew neither of you could afford tickets, but to visit the clubs she hoped the drivers would be at.

She knew people who knew people and you didn’t ask questions, you just gripped her hand tightly as she led you towards the VIP section of the third club that night. The first one was a bust. The second one you spotted a few people associated with Formula 1, but the third nightclub was the jackpot.

It didn’t take long to spot Charles, celebrating getting a podium after a difficult qualifying session on Saturday. You never actually met Charles but you had heard lots about him, and from the look he gave you across the lounge, you had a feeling he had heard a lot about you too.

With a drink in his hand, he made his way towards you, nodding to himself when he realised that, yes, the girl in front of him was in fact his teammate's ex.

“Does Carlos know you’re here?” Charles asked, dipping his face towards your ear to be heard over the obnoxious music. You shook your head, eyes darting all around him but the Spanish driver was nowhere in sight.

“Is he-” god why were you even asking? You didn’t have a right to. You broke up with him. “Is he here?”

Charles nodded again, standing up straight to look around the crowded room full of bodies dancing and mingling. A chuckle passed his lips as his eyes widened momentarily, “Looks like he’s a little busy though.”

You turned on your heels. It took a second for you to understand what Charles was talking about.

But then you saw it.

A girl, who very much resembled you, height wise and hair wise, had her arms wrapped around Carlos’ neck as she held their bodies together, letting the music flow through them as they danced together.

You hated the way he was staring at her, like he was thinking about all of the ways he was going to devour her.

And unlike Carlos, you did not let your feelings sit. You reacted to everything. Out of anger, spite, jealousy, you never took a second to think about your actions or the potential consequences before doing anything.

So before you even processed how horrible of an idea this was, you walked across the club, the music fading into the background as you only heard a high pitched ringing in your ears. Carlos paid no attention to you, he had no idea you were even there until you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand off the waist of your lookalike.

She scoffed at you and shot a quick glance towards Carlos, “Cuál es su problema?” What’s your problem?

“You,” You shot back, not giving her any chance of a rebuttal before you pulled Carlos away from her and the dance floor. He called your name, trying to get your attention as you navigated your way to the bathrooms. He was much stronger than you, so he could have pulled your hand off of him if he really wanted to, but he let you drag him into the single user washroom without much of a fight.

It wasn’t until you locked the door behind him and stood only inches apart did it sink in what you just did.

Your heart was racing as you stared up at Carlos. You took in his stern features, the way his eyebrows pinched together as he waited for an explanation, the way he crossed his arms over his chest.

This was very reminiscent of the night you met, only when you met in the club you pulled him into the backseat of a car and he couldn’t take his hands off of you. Now, he was purposely keeping the distance and he seemingly wanted nothing to do with you.

He must have known you didn’t have any words because he cleared his throat and eyed you once over, “What the fuck was that?”

What the hell could you say? That was me pulling you off some stupid look alike because even though I broke up with you, I don’t want to see you with anyone else?

That would be the truth. The reasonable thing to respond with because after pulling him away from his date, you probably at least owed him some honesty.

But again, you were someone who reacted.

“What?” You scoffed, arm flailing to the side. “You think you can come back to Spain for the first time in months and not say a single fucking thing to me? Weren’t you the one who said your home was in Madrid? People talk, Carlos, you haven’t been home since the day-”

“Since the day you left,” he interrupted, knowing damn well you were trying to say he hadn’t been back home since he left for the season even though you both knew there was a deeper reasoning as to why.

Carlos shook his head. His usually loving stare was cold and intimidating, he wasn’t going to let you put the blame on him for anything that had occurred.

“I haven’t been back to Madrid since that day you walked out on me,” Carlos repeated himself, putting heavy emphasis on the reminder that you were the one that left him. “I hope you understand, but I haven’t really been in any sort of rush to go back.”

Why would he want to go back home knowing you wouldn’t be there when he returned? Why would he go back to the one place he knew you’d be, but would still inevitably be just out of his reach? So close yet so fucking far.

He wasn’t going to put himself through that, through knowing you’d be in the same city but not being able to touch you. It was easier to find other places to stay between races.

And you did understand that. It may not have sunk in right away, but it made sense now. You couldn’t see it through the tv screen, you couldn’t get a read on him when you were watching him race from miles and miles away. But you saw it now.

Carlos hadn’t moved on either.

He took a breath as he leaned back against the door. You didn’t like the defensive stance he was relying on. With his arms over his chest all you wanted was to step forward and take his hands in yours. You hated the space between your bodies.

But you were broken up. You both had to accept that, as hard as it was, and that was your doing.

Except you still didn’t want to see him with someone else.

“So who was she?” You asked, drifting the topic of conversation back to the girl from the dance floor.

“You don’t really have a right to ask.”

“It’s not a crime to be curious.”

Carlos clenched his jaw as he averted his gaze for a second. He rubbed his palm over his chin and shrugged, giving in to your question because he always did struggle to say no to you, “I don’t know, honestly. I met her ten minutes ago at the bar.”

“Sounds familiar,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to when you first met.

“We met on the dance floor,” Carlos pointed out.

“I was on the dance floor. You were at the bar.”

“We were both on the dance floor,” he repeated, sounding more sure of himself the second time.

His eyes dropped, taking in your outfit of choice for the first time since you’ve been in the enclosed space and when the corner of his lips curved upwards, just for a second, you felt your heart skip a beat just like it did the first night you met.

“You were wearing that same skirt too,” he said and you automatically looked down at the black leather skirt you currently had on.

“Was not,” you scoffed, but to be fair, you had absolutely no idea what you had on that night.

Carlos chuckled, ignoring your childish rebuttal. “That skirt and a white top and I know it was white because I remember watching you spill your drink all over the front of it and you said-”

“I need an excuse to take it off anyway,” you finished for him, flashes of that night appeared in your mind. For so long, you only remembered how Carlos made you feel when you first met that none of the other details mattered.

But he remembered everything.

“You ordered gin and tonics all night,” Carlos continued, studying your face as your features softened with each additional memory. “Your friends tried to pull you away from me when we were on the dance floor and you didn’t let them. When I introduced myself, you had no idea who I was and when we finally stepped outside to leave the club, you looked at me with those big eyes of yours and you-”

He stopped midway and inhaled a faint breath, you both did actually. His was due to reliving the night you first met and yours was due to the fact that Carlos stepped forward finally, raising his fingers to your chin to tilt your face upwards.

You leaned into his touch, stepping forward yourself to trace your hand over the shirt he wore as he finished his final thought.

“You looked up at me and you told me I looked like someone you could fall in love with.”

Alarms went off. You wanted to run again. You didn’t want to have this conversation again. Once was enough.

“I don’t- I don’t remember that,” you stammered out.

“Because you were drinking gin and tonics all night,” Carlos said again, this time with a hint of a smile. “I also don’t even think you meant to say it, you changed the topic immediately afterwards.”

“You could just be making this shit up,” you pointed out, not wanting to accept the fact that you knew Carlos would be someone you would love since that first night.

“I could be,” he nodded in agreement, fingers still holding onto your jaw. He stared at you the way he used to. With such adoration and desire. What used to be lust melted into something so much stronger and it hadn’t faded even if months passed. “But unlike you, I don’t lie.”

Your eyebrows pinched together, “When have I ever lied to you?”

“The day you left,” there was another hit to the chest as you anticipated the rest of his sentence. “When you told me you didn’t love me.”

“That wasn’t a lie,” your words tasted like acid on your tongue.

His hand fell from your face and he laughed. The sort of laugh that had your stomach turning in knots because there was nothing humorous about this situation you had now found yourselves in for the second time in four months.

“I know you,” Carlos said. “And I know there’s no possible way that I am the only one that feels so strongly it hurts. I know you love me because I feel it. I always have. In the way you touch me, in the way you run your hands through my hair, in the way you used to wake me up in the morning by kissing me until I finally opened my eyes. I know you love me because I see it in everything you do. In the way you look at me, the way your eyes always found mine if we were in a crowded room and I could see the breath of relief you’d take because as long as we saw each other, the world was calm. I saw it when you started leaving your clothes at my place, when you started going grocery shopping for us instead of just you and I saw how it broke you to walk out on me that day. It wouldn’t have hurt if you didn’t love me.”

With your hand still gripping onto his shirt, your lower lip trembled as you tried to find something to say in response. Every single word that came out of his mouth was true. He knew you better than you knew yourself and he probably knew long before you did that you loved him.

You dropped your gaze, focusing on the wrinkles on his shirt and the white button you played with under your thumb, “You know that phrase, if you love something, set it free?”

“And if it comes back, it's yours,” Carlos added on, stepping closer as he raised his hand to the side of your face, his fingers twisting through your hair. “I’m here, hermosa. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. You forced yourself to, thinking that the humorous breath of air protruding from your lips might make the rest of this conversation easier.

It didn’t.

“Carlos I can’t keep setting you free every time there’s a race,” you said, your voice timid. “I can’t. If I’m going to love you I’m going to do it with every bone in my body, with every fibre of my being and I can’t do that if you’re gone for eight months of the year. I need you in my life, with me, by my side, not on a tv screen, not all around the world.”

What you were asking for was selfish, you knew this. You knew that, essentially, you were putting Carlos in a position where he had to choose. He had to choose between you and racing and that wasn’t a fair spot for him to be in. You knew this.

Which is why you chose for him.

Four months ago you chose for him, and you were doing it again now.

You briefly glanced up to meet his eyes, trying to move past the way you were melting at the feeling of his hands in your hair.

“I shouldn’t have come to Barcelona, I’m sorry,” you breathed out, hands falling to your side. Without so much as a second look, you stepped past the driver and reached for the door handle.

Carlos didn’t let you walk out on him this time.

He grabbed your wrist and spun you back around so fast that you didn’t have a second to breathe before his lips were on yours. Furiously and passionately like he was making up for all of these months without you. His tongue dove into your mouth as you slid your hand around the back of his neck, holding his face to yours because even though you knew this was a terrible idea, that you were broken up, there was no better feeling in the world than kissing Carlos Sainz Jr.

Neither of you were sure who started undressing first. It didn’t matter. Buttons went flying, your skirt got hiked up around your waist and when Carlos hoisted you up to place you on top of the sink, you had a momentary lapse of judgement and asked yourself why you broke up with him in the first place.

“I miss you,” Carlos muttered against your lips as you inhaled a sharp breath when he pushed your panties aside, the pads of his fingers traced over your folds. “I missed this.”

“Carlos-”

“Missed how wet you got for me,” Carlos ignored whatever plea was about to fall from your lips as he pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck.

You were putty in his hands, quite literally. There was nothing but quiet whimpers and strangled moans from you as he slid two fingers past your folds, both of you forgetting that your conversation ended with you trying to walk out on him.

His thumb traced over your clit, applying the slightest bit of pressure, just enough to have you arching your back as you sat perched on the edge of the counter. You felt him smirk against your skin right when he picked up the pace of his digits, curling them against your walls, so deep inside you.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to keep his lips on that spot just below your ear as your head fell backward. Carlos kept you upright, he supported you, he knew how helpless you were during times like these and he lived for it.

Four months ago you would have never thought that walking out on Carlos Sainz Jr. would lead you to being finger fucked by him in the bathroom of a Barcelona club.

He lifted his head, replacing his lips on your throat with his free hand and forcing you to look at him. You recognised the lustful stare, only growing darker as he alternated between lightly tracing your most sensitive nub and pinching it between his forefinger and thumb until your legs quivered beneath you.

Carlos attached his mouth to yours, biting down and tugging on your lower lip, the sharp pain only added to the pleasure coursing through your body. He thrusted his fingers into you with such force it had you yanking on his dark hair so hard Carlos hissed through his teeth.

“Cum for me,” Carlos’ groan was masked with a demand. One you had no possibility of ignoring as your body reacted to him and his words. With his fingers so deep inside you, Carlos worked you through your release, slowing but not stopping as you dropped your head to his shoulder, holding him as close to you as you possibly could.

When he finally pulled his fingers out of you, you weren’t surprised when he brought them up to his lips. There was a perfectly fine sink right in front of him but Carlos would never waste an opportunity to taste you.

He then cupped your chin, his gaze softened but you could still make out the mischievous glint. This night wasn’t over.

“Let’s get out of here.”

That’s all it took. Those five little words. The one request and you had forgotten every logical decision that had led you up to this moment. He helped you off the counter, kissing you once more before you had to leave the privacy of the bathroom and before long you found yourself walking the same route as the first night you met.

Past the dance floor, sending your friend an assuring smile, silently telling her everything was fine. Carlos led the way at first, you kept a safe distance behind him and when you walked outside there was already a car waiting out front. You climbed into the backseat alongside him, ignoring the flashes from paparazzi and the call from them asking if Carlos was back together with his ex.

You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. From the ride to the elevator to the hallway until finally he dragged you into his hotel room, or maybe you dragged him once the door opened, you were both desperate for the other at this point.

It was hard to think rationally. In the back of your head you knew you’d have to leave in the morning before you found yourself clinging to him the way you used to, but you just wanted to enjoy the time you had now. You wanted to hold onto every beautiful sound that came from the back of his throat, each kiss he pressed to your skin, the sound of your name escaping his lips because no one would ever say your name that way he did.

You loved him.

You loved the way he knew your body better than you did. How he had you desperate for a release in a matter of minutes, and only giving in when you begged for it. You loved the way he stretched you out, needing a second to inhale a quick breath as he slid his cock into you with little warning, deciding you were wet enough already after making you cum once in the bathroom and again on the edge of his bed with just his tongue.

You were used to his size, you had spent enough time in bed with him to know what to expect tonight but after four months your mouth still fell open and he swallowed all of your moans by pressing his lips to yours and taking all of your air out of your lungs.

Carlos wasn’t patient. Why would he be? After months without you he didn’t feel the need to wait. He found a steady pace but within minutes he had picked up his speed and hiked one of your legs up around his waist.

That position turned into another which turned into a third and at one point during the night Carlos had you sit on top of him, staring at your own reflection in the mirror as you bounced on his cock, listening to his encouraging words and his praise while his fingers made for a beautiful necklace on your throat.

He cherished you, treating you like royalty on his sheets as you both carried the same thought, both of you knowing that you wouldn’t stay past the morning. As much as you wanted to forget that you broke up with him and as much as he wanted to pretend that you were still his, there was no denying your relationship was over.

You loved each other, but that wasn’t enough to make up for the distance and the lost time during races and the anxiety of not being able to come home to each other at the end of the day. You loved each other, truly, but it was never enough.

Which was why when morning came, you climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb him after getting very minimal hours of sleep. You slid on the clothes you had discarded all over his room and decided that leaving without a second look would be easiest.

You had just cracked the door open when Carlos stirred in the blankets behind you. You had no choice but to turn around, to look at what you were walking away from for the second time.

He sat up in bed, the sheets draped over his lower half and his hair unruly and sexy and almost enough to make you crawl right back in next to him.

He saw that you had redressed yourself, made yourself as presentable as you could wearing the clothes from last night. He didn’t have to ask where you were going, he just nodded to himself and let out a breath of acceptance.

You were never going to stay.

“I’m sorry,” you said, but those two little words were not the words he was hoping to hear during his short time with you.

“No you’re not,” Carlos shook his head. He looked away from you for a second, his tongue poking out to moisten his lips. He was asking himself if last night was a mistake. It probably was.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want.”

“I’m leaving because it’s what’s best for both of us, Carlos.” You sighed, leaning against the frame of the bedroom door. “I can’t live the life you want me to live and I’m not going to ask you to give anything up for me. We’re at a crossroad here.”

Carlos dragged his line of sight back towards you, “Even though I love you? That doesn’t make any difference?”

It makes things harder.

You shook your head, repeating that you were sorry one more time and letting the last image of Carlos be of him dropping his head back down to the pillow before you turned around and walked out of his life once again.

August 17 2023

You practically ran to the receptionist, slamming your hands against the desk, “Carlos Sainz Jr., is he- is he here? What room is he in? Is he okay? God please tell me he’s okay-”

“Ma’am, I need you to take a breath,” the nurse was calm, she had been through this hundreds of times. Dealing with the frantic loved ones of a patient. She stood up, hand outstretched to rest over yours as she pushed the box of tissues closer to you. You grabbed one and dabbed the corner of your eyes, having been imagining the worst the entire drive over and unable to stop crying.

You didn’t even have time to question why you were still his emergency contact. You had no idea how your name and number came up in the conversation and it pained you to think that when the paramedics brought him to the hospital, the only phone number he could think to mutter was yours.

“Is he okay?” You repeated after a deep inhale. “I need to know he’s okay. The lady on the phone earlier wouldn’t tell me anything, she just said there was an accident.”

“Carlos Sainz?” The nurse asked, looking at her screen as she sat back on down. She typed on the keyboard, muttering a few things to herself until his file popped up. “He’s undergoing surgery right now, should be done soon though.”

“Surgery for what?” You asked, desperate to get information. “Is he going to be okay? He’s a racecar driver, can he still drive? Is it life threatening-”

The nurse seemed to crack a smile, “I’m familiar with his occupation, Miss. Unfortunately I am not able to give you any more information on his condition.”

You couldn’t tell if the whole confidentiality act was because of his fame or because she really had no idea how he was doing. Regardless, the not knowing stressed you out beyond relief and you tried for a few more minutes, pestering for answers, until finally she told you that the only option for you was to sit and wait.

So you did. Foot tapping against the tiled floor. You thought about calling his parents or his sister but last you saw from social media, his sister was somewhere in Greece and you had absolutely no way of contacting his parents as you weren’t with Carlos long enough to get their contact information.

It was just you in the hospital waiting room, nervously watching the minute hand on the clock go around way too damn slow. Every time a doctor or another nurse entered the room, your heart dropped in anticipation, but none of them were there to keep you informed.

Twenty minutes went by with no news, and in hindsight, that really wasn’t that long of a waiting period. But it felt like an eternity, not knowing. Left drawing your own conclusions, your own terrible scenarios.

When a doctor did finally emerge from the swinging doors, he stared down at his clipboard before approaching the nurse behind the reception desk. You watched them interact, of course you did, you needed to know if he was Carlos’ doctor.

When he walked over to you, a tight smile on his lips, you stood up instantly.

“You must be here for Carlos,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake with not nearly enough strength you wished you had. “I’m Dr. Alejo.”

“Hi,” You tried to glance at the clipboard tucked under his arm but you wouldn’t understand anything anyway. “Is he-”

Dr. Alejo nodded and you felt as though you could breathe when his smile grew even just the slightest bit.

“He’s fine,” He assured you. “A few broken ribs that will heal on their own, a fracture of his left wrist that required surgery and some severe bruising along his abdomen, but no internal bleeding to be concerned about. He’s okay.” Dr. Alejo scratched his jaw, “Might not be able to finish the season, but I think he’s just happy to be able to walk away from this accident.”

He nodded his head towards the doors that separated the patients from the waiting room, leading you through them and down the hall as he flipped through the papers on the clipboard.

“It was a car accident?” You asked. “How? What even happened?” It was hard to believe that a professional racing driver would get into something so mundane as a car accident. During the break of the Formula 1 season.

“I believe the other driver was distracted,” Dr. Alejo answered. “I don’t have much more information than that as he wasn’t my patient, but he’s also okay. I think still in surgery, but both drivers are extremely fortunate in this scenario.”

He stopped in front of a room where the door was slightly ajar. Carlos’ name was written on the board outside of it and you asked for permission before going inside. The doctor nodded and allowed you in by yourself, instructing you to be gentle as he had just come from surgery.

You walked in, not prepared for the sight of Carlos on the bed with IV tubes sticking out of his wrist. His entire rib cage and abdomen was bandaged up and you could see hints of bruising on his legs and arms, aside from where the cast on his left wrist was covering them. There were minor marks on his face as well, cuts from the broken windshield, more bruising, everything that made you ache for him.

His eyes were closed so he didn’t see you slowly make your way to his bedside, sitting on the side that seemed to have less injury. You scanned over him, taking in the damages to his body and you didn’t think twice before raising your hand to brush a few strands of hair off his forehead.

You hadn’t seen him in a few months, not since you left his hotel room.

Part of you expected that you’d run into each again, you’d always been drawn to Carlos, but you never would have imagined this.

You didn’t even know he was home.

Hesitantly, you took his hand in yours, thumb tracing over the few inches of skin that weren’t littered with dark bruises. You felt his fingers twitch in your grasp and you glanced up in time to see his eyelids flutter open.

“Hi,” you whispered, expecting to have to explain yourself. Carlos most definitely did not expect to get into any sort of accident today, let alone see his ex-girlfriend who walked out on him twice. Obviously there was some explaining to do.

But he only turned his palm upwards to interlock your fingers together, careful of the IV tubing. He tried to shift on the bed, only to grimace in pain and you inhaled a breath, worried for him.

“Just-” you swallowed, fighting the urge to put your hand to his chest like you would normally do if you just wanted him to sit. “Just take it easy, okay?”

Carlos nodded, glancing down at your hands and then at the cast on his wrist and then sighing with deep despair as he took in the bandages wrapped around his body.

“Not like I had a shot at the championship anyway,” he joked, already thinking about the last half of the season.

You didn’t want to laugh. Nothing about him sitting in a hospital bed was funny, but it was no surprise he was thinking about Formula 1. He was a driver, racing was in his blood.

So you just cracked a hint of a smile and tried to change the topic to something else, something more pressing.

“I didn’t know you were back in Madrid.”

Carlos paused, “I just got in today.”

Your brows pinched together, “What do you mean? Didn’t your break start two weeks ago?”

“I was in Italy, for a bit,” he told you, his thumb brushing over yours. “But I didn’t want to be there. All I wanted was to come home. All I wanted was to see you.”

Your heart sank deep into your chest, “Don’t tell me you got into a car accident when you were on the way to my place.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

“Carlos,” You wanted to scold him, really. You had broken up, he didn’t need to come see you. If he had just stayed in Italy, if he hadn’t decided he needed to see you, he’d be fine and not laying with limited motion in a hospital bed. You were the reason he ended up here.

He always said you’d be the death of him.

“I love you,” Carlos said, sounding more sure of his own words than he ever had before. “I love you, and I don’t care if you walk out on me every time I say it because I’m just going to follow you. I made a mistake the first time, letting you leave. I made it again in Barcelona and I’m not doing that anymore, I’m not going anywhere, hermosa and if I do, I’ll always come home to you.”

You had thought you were all cried out, having tears stream down your face the entire drive to the hospital as you thought about your relationship with Carlos. The good, the bad, everything in between. You cried thinking you’d never get a chance to create another memory with him. You were distraught, wanting to scream into the abyss because even if you weren’t with Carlos, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

You loved him.

You always had. You always will.

And you weren’t going to go another second with him thinking his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

A single tear fell down your cheek as you locked eyes with him, the only person in your life you would ever give your heart to and know, without doubt, that he would give his back in return.

“I love you,” you finally told him, the biggest weight lifted off your chest, one that had been dragging you down for months. “I love you, Carlos, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you when I knew I did. I'm sorry it took this for me to tell you. I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you-”

You moved closer to him, dropping your head to rest against his after you kissed his temple, quietly repeating that you loved him over and over again. You placed your hand against his cheek, holding Carlos against you and he covered your hand with his, not wanting to let go.

He’d let you go one two many times and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

And you wouldn’t give him a reason to.

#carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #carlos sainz smut #f1 one shot #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #carlos sainz jr smut

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perzawa · 7 months

Text

BEFORE I LET GO | 2.2K

OCT 5TH: AGE GAP

kinktober masterlist

♡ toji fushiguro x fem! reader

relationships are hard enough when there are no stakes, but it’s even harder when you’re dating your best friend’s father. you never expected things to get more difficult than that, but when you only have 24 hours before you’re on the other side of the world, you can’t help but wonder if such a relationship can even last.

♡ warnings/tags! toji is like early 40’s here and the reader is like early 20’s, toji is megumi’s dad, reader is studying abroad, public sex, sex in the woods lol, unprotected sex, fingering, kinda angsty but not toooo bad

“C’mon, relax.”

Your eyes are still stuck to the car floor, nails lightly scraping your skin as your boyfriend's words kind of wash over you. Tomorrow, you'll be miles away from him for what feels like forever, and it's all you can think about. You try to hold off on the waterworks until you're on the plane or, better yet, not in the same room as Toji, but the reality of being apart hits you hard.

Trying is pointless now, so you give up. You chew your lip as hot tears silently make their way down your cheeks, and you attempt to distract your mind. Your stomach's in knots, your head's pounding from all the stress you've been wrestling with. God, you weren't prepared for this. Breathing feels like a neverending chore, and you’re fucking sick of it. Feels like you’ve been on a rollercoaster and you might vomit any minute now. Just when you're lost in that sensation, Toji's fingers on your thigh draw you back until you’re focused on him.

He stole a glance at your pitiful state and scowled. “You’re gonna make yourself sick. Stop.”

He's shattered, just like you. Despite his efforts to hold it together and keep you grounded, there's something in you that senses he's crumbling on the inside. You nod, letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry," you groan, smacking your palm against your forehead a few times. "I’m just scared. I'm so damn scared, Toji, I don't know what to do."

You remember being so excited when the topic of studying abroad first came to your mind. Having been sheltered most of your life, you figured it was time to get out there and go a little wild once you graduated, but you never expected to fall in love along the way.

Especially not with your best friend’s father.

Right now, you should be with him. Both of you should be smoking in his room and flipping through pictures of you both in middle school, but instead, you’re with his fucking father. It’s almost sick to you how big of a secret you’ve been keeping from your closest companion, but you knew it’d kill him if he ever found out about your relationship—and it’s not like you blamed him either. If you’d been close to someone for this long and you found out she was fucking your father, you know you’d raise hell so this was no difference.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby,” he said, cutting the silence with his deep voice. “Just tell me what’s going on up there, pretty girl.” He kept his eyes on the road, steering with one hand while the other stayed solid on your thigh. For as long as you’ve known the man, he’s always been a stoic man who never had an issue with staying calm, but the grip he had on the wheel was a new side of him.

After a while, you spoke with a meek and broken voice. "I just... God, I don't want to leave you. You understand that, right?" You gazed out of the window, watching as Toji navigated through a path in the dark forests of your city. It was the last time you'd be able to visit your spot for a few years. "And Megumi, too. I feel like such a bitch for what I'm doing to him, Toji. I shouldn't... we shouldn't be doing this."

He just stayed silent, pulling into a parking area not too deep in the forest. Once he stopped the car, he breathed out a heavy sigh before hanging his head for a minute to think, retracting his large hand from your thigh. “Fuck, I know. I know how you feel, I do,” Toji started, shutting his eyes tight. “I know because I feel the same. But there’s nothing wrong with you falling in love with someone, is there? Father or not, it shouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe, but you know how this looks for us…” You looked into his dark green eyes, the shining jade pigment sending a wave of relief through your tired body. The vibrant hue held a deep, almost mystical quality, reminiscent of emeralds bathed in sunlight. Flecks of darker green and hints of gold danced within, creating an intricate pattern that seemed to shift with every blink. He’s so fucking beautiful. You couldn’t begin to comprehend just how much you’d miss seeing him every night. How much you’d miss sneaking around and kissing those beautiful scarred lips. There was nothing okay with falling in love with your best friend’s dad, but you couldn’t help it. You never asked for this.

Toji nodded, his gaze focused on you. “I know, but let's not dwell on this anymore,” he murmured, his hand gently squeezing your arm. “Tonight, I just want us to be together peacefully, okay? We can tackle the tough stuff another time.” With that, he left the car, walking over to your size to let you out as well.

Your last night together.

The least you could do was let it be peaceful. The walk to your favorite river was painfully slow, consisting of you trudging behind Toji and dragging your feet almost slothfully. The only light illuminating your path was the soft glow of the moon, making it a little difficult to find your way in the beginning but you soon found yourself standing in front of a steep river. Memories of your first night here with Toji resurfaced, causing a small grin to twitch on your face. It was a night for a lot of firsts. Your first kiss, your first time… it was an easier time.

Everything seemed so simple then.

Toji sat by the river, stretching his legs until his shoes nearly touched the dark, glowing water. He glanced up at you, observing as you settled down beside him, crossing your legs. A soft sigh escaped you as you gazed ahead, tuning in to the gentle flow of the water. You yearned to be like the river—serene, a graceful body of water simply existing peacefully. No struggles or worries, just living.

“Fuck, baby,” Toji finally groaned, playfully bumping his shoulder into yours. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You better call me every day,” he demanded, a small grin stretching on his lips despite the inner turmoil he was still feeling. No matter how lonely he’d be without you, all he wanted was for you to achieve the dream you’d been thinking about for years now. It was time for you to break free from the cocoon your parents had trapped you in and live a little.

“You better not start getting too friendly with other girls,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. At that, Toji laughed hard before smashing his lips against your soft ones. He let out a gentle noise, his hand reaching to squeeze your waist before he hesitantly pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter if you’re gone for two years or two decades. You know you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easily.” He clasped your hand, giving it a tight squeeze before pressing it gently to his lips, his rough scar grazing your skin. Regardless of the complexities in your relationship, the thought of living without him was unimaginable. He wasn't just Megumi's father anymore; he belonged to you. The distance of the ocean couldn't alter that.

“Besides,” he continued, pulling you into his lap. “We’ll always have holidays, won’t we? This isn’t over. We aren’t over.” His lips were on you moments after, moving in a slow but messy harmony. Small grunts escaped you both as his tongue forced itself into your mouth, tangling with yours. Strings of saliva began escaping, dripping down your chin and neck - but you didn’t care. You couldn’t. It would be like a million eternities before you were able to feel him against you like this again.

Finally, you pulled away, your bottom lip glossy with his saliva as you panted softly. Tomorrow, you’d be in a place making your way across the ocean for two whole years.

You only had tonight.

“Right here, Toji,” you started, quickly pulling your shirt over your head before you finished explaining. “Need you right now. We don’t have long, so just… just take me now,” you rushed, pressing kisses to his neck and lips.

You lay down on the grass, pushing your skirt up to expose your black panties, body aching for his gentle touch. Toji wasted no time in getting your panties down to your ankles and then to the ground, his thick fingers pressing against your clit. He sighed, dragging the tip of his middle and ring finger through your slick folds, starting from your clit and then down to your entrance.

Slowly, he eased those fingers inside, burying them as deep as he could before pulling them out, witnessing how soaked you were. “I bet she’s gonna miss me the most, huh?” He asked rhetorically before slowly thrusting his slick-coated digits into your heated depths, listening for every moan and whimper you blessed his ears with.

“Yeah… don’t know what I’m gonna do without your tongue or fingers,” you rasped, rolling your hips as he pumped his hand inside, moving down to lick and kiss your sensitive neck. He continues moving against your bumpy walls, his darkened eyes watching you in the moonlight. You were always such a wreck for him and so easily too.

His fingers suddenly curled his fingers upwards, pressing into that spongy spot that you both loved so much. With trembling legs, you began subconsciously attempting to close your thighs but he wouldn’t allow it. It was embarrassing hearing your own soaked pussy being fingered and it was showing too. Your cheeks and body felt even hotter now, making you turn your head away from him. Your back arched off the ground as you began twitching around him, a wave of heat filling your lower abdomen as you began to get closer.

Closer…

“Oh, no,” Toji teased with a chuckle as he quickly retracted his soaked digits, sucking your juices from them without caring about how dirty the action was. “When you cum, I wanna feel it.”

You pouted, perching yourself on your elbows. “Asshole.”

Toji only smirked, unzipping his black jeans slowly before pulling his hardened cock out. He hissed from the feeling of his fingers on his neglected cock, squeezing his length in an attempt to replicate how you’d feel around him. It was almost too much now; The ache between your legs, the tears still threatening to fall from your eyes, and the way your boyfriend felt as he began sliding inside of you

He groaned, bottoming out against your cervix with practiced ease. His cock was throbbing inside of you, making it difficult for you to not cum on the spot. His hands found their way to your hips, his nails sinking into your skin as he began thrusting inside. He dragged his cock against your soaked walls, setting a slow, but deep pace. Embarrassment is clear on your features from the way your body reacts to him so perfectly. Like even your body knows you are his now and forever. He pulled out almost completely before pushing back in, intoxicated by the sounds of your moans. “Oh, baby, fuck,” he whispered with a rough voice as he threw his head back, pounding into your abused cunt even harder. “You feel so fuckin’ good… gonna miss this pussy so much.”

The sound of his hips meeting yours made him twitch inside of you again. “But she’s all mine, right? This cunt,” he rasped, emphasizing his words by pulling out and thrusting into you roughly. “belongs to me. Say it.”

“All yours, Toji. Don’t want anyone else,” you cried out into his neck as his fingers pinched your sensitive clit, dragging a loud moan from the depths of your throat.

“There you go, pretty girl. Give it to me. Show me how much that pretty pussy belongs to me,” he praised, taking your button between his fingers as he stroked it, coaxing an orgasm from you. It wasn’t long before his heavy balls were tight and sensitive, revealing how ready he was to finally pump his seed inside of you.

With a loud moan, you came hard around his cock, your pussy tightening on him so much, you almost pushed him out. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on his own orgasm, basking in the way you gripped his cock like your pussy couldn’t possibly live without it ‐ like you were fucking made to be fucked by his cock. He thrust inside of you a few more times, his strokes lazy and uncoordinated as he finally spilled his hot, white liquid all over your bumpy walls.

“Making a mess all over my cock,” he growled, burying himself to your hilt before pulling out, denying you the feeling of fullness. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, sweating messes. There was nothing scarier than losing the one man you truly loved, but if your relationship was meant to be, you knew it’d last. “Such a good girl…”You turned your head to look at his barely visible state with a gentle smile.

Everything would be okay because you were his and he was yours.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk hcs #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji headcanons #toji hcs #toji fushiguro hcs #toji fushiguro headcanons #kinktober #kinktober masterlist

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