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waterlilydrops · 2 days

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Fortune Favors the Ambitious (1/?) - Second Driver

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!driver!reader

summary: your first step into the F1 world: becoming the second driver for Mercedes. This is the part 1 of a female racer’s story, encompassing her victories, failures, pain, weaknesses, and love.

word count: 6k

warning: mentions of brocedes, mentions of sexism, descriptions of crash scenes, screw with some race results

note: this is my very first try of a series story, suggestions are appreciated! This fanfic contains a lot of roasts about drivers, cars and the sport itself, if it offends you, I apologize.

You joined Mercedes AMG in your first year to step into the seat unexpectedly vacated by Nico Rosberg, who had just staged a feud with Lewis Hamilton. After four years of intense and ruthless competition, Rosberg finally won his first and only WDC this year. Then he chose to retire and took a seat in the media box.

This passionate friendship story between a pair of childhood friends and prodigies did not end well in the end. Instead, it became another dismal footnote to F1’s primeval law: there are no true friends in the paddock, vividly proving that the best way for two drivers to remain good friends is to stay away from each other, to not become teammates.

After races, drivers from different teams could still complain to each other, saying things like “my poor understeercar” and “oh, don’t even mention it, my team took 13.4 seconds to pit”; They could console each other, saying, “Hey, it was tough for everyone, but I felt like if…, you would definitely make it to the podium, bro”, “Of course you would too, I knew you were awesome”and so on. Comforting each other with this kind of contradictory exchange, satisfyingly smoothing over any discomfort caused by competition, forgetting moments like “he almost hit me and caused me DNF” and reassuring themselves with “there’s a difference between on and off the track, it wasn’t his fault, I would have done the same thing”.

It was indeed hard to accept when two drivers, despite having the same performance cars and theoretically receiving equal support, one of them was harshly differentiated, forced to do the dirty work, give positions to their teammates, only to be simply comforted with phrases like “Oh, we treated them fairly, it was just that one performed a bit better”, “Drivers needed to establish team spirit and help each other”.

What? Why did it always seem like one was helping the other?

F1 was not essentially a team sport. 20 drivers competed for one championship.

However, it was really a team sport. A team of thousands of people surrounded the two drivers in the team to serve, not out of charity, but for real returns like money and impression. Therefore, it was inevitable that the team was eager to maximize the group’s interests. The necessary sacrifice spirit for the team and the endless selfish desire of the individual to win formed an eternal contradiction in the paddock.

This blunt competitive pressure, the often unfair team environment, and the resulting jealousy, anxiety, and uneasiness could make even a saint sitting in a cockpit at temperatures reaching 70 degrees explode mentally, hurtling at over 320 kilometers per hour towards their teammate's wheels, sidepods, or any other position. And then being retaliated against with the same hatred by the other party.

As the curtain fell on the drama, no matter what, Mercedes had to find a new recruit.

The opportunity to enter F1 is by no means easily within reach.

You were the lucky one. Not only were you naturally talented, but you also came from a rich family who could support your move to the UK for karting training. You had parents who unconditionally helped you chase your dreams, and in lower-level racing, you had hardly faced any financial difficulties. It was well known that kids from the slums could gather to play football made by newspapers, but the road for a racing driver was paved with gold. Thanks to your parents’ connections, the process of finding sponsorship for higher-level racing surprisingly went smoothly: half of the interested sponsors backed out the moment they saw you were a woman, while the other half chose to take a gamble.

You’re unlucky. Being female is your natural disadvantage in this male-dominated sport. When you started to shine in GP3 races, you felt deeply powerless knowing that as a woman, you had to do better than boys just to get the same opportunities — boys only need to showcase talent and skills to be considered by higher-level teams, while you get questioned about “whether emotions will affect your stability” and “will your period affect your performance”. It's absurd. You even couldn’t possibly get the same chances as boys in big team future programs. Let alone testing in old model F1 cars, you had very few opportunities to even test on F1 simulators. You chose to grab the lifeline thrown by Marussia and become their reserve driver.

From blockbuster rookie to seasoned driver, you dominated GP2 for two years. You and the boys used the same engine and the same frame,You didn’t have a driver dad, so there is no F1 team engineers to adjust the car for you. you relied solely on your talent and determination. You won 9 races, stood on the podium more than ten times, and became the champion with the highest points in the history of GP2.

A brilliant result that forced F1 teams to seriously consider their driver lineup.

“Who will fill the empty the seat at Mercedes?”

“Why Y/N Y/LN is the next big name?”

“Is she the first female F1 driver of 21 century?”

Indeed, why not? Why not have given a deserving female driver, who had already proven her mettle, a chance to shine on the world stage? Offer her a one-year contract — allow her to break barriers and challenge norms in a traditionally male-dominated sport. With her presence alone, she brought invaluable media exposure to the team, each stride she took destined to be immortalized in the annals of history alongside the illustrious name of her team.

After testing in simulator, you sat in front of Toto Wolff and several executives. Only you knew that there are six or seven GP2 drivers vying for this seat, not to mention F1 drivers who want to drive the Silver Arrows.

“If your teammate — I’m not specifically referring to Lewis Hamilton, this is just a hypothetical scenario — if your teammate, he is in the state of competing for the championship, and due to some accidents in a key game, he unfortunately falls behind you and another rival from another team, what would you do?” Toto asked, his gaze seeming to pierce through the soul.

You remained unexpectedly calm. Without hesitation, you answered, “I’ll push the first-place car away, allowing Hamilton, who’s in third, to directly take the lead and win the championship.”

After the interview, during the debrief with your team manager, she sighed at your answer. “You should have played it safe,” she said, “You should have said something conventional. Talk about helping him defend, giving him room, and if necessary, try to fight for the title yourself. That’s the standard answer. Don’t let them perceive your aggression and ambition.”

You couldn’t agree with that.

You knew Mercedes just want a driver for Lewis Hamilton who won’t tear the team relationship and the car to pieces.

But if winning hadn’t been your ultimate goal, you wouldn‘t have chosen the path of racing. You should go get an MBA to help with the family business, and from then on, your biggest connection to racing will be attending hometown races as a sponsor.

And the word “ambitious” described you perfectly. You certainly had an insatiable, oversized desire. In a paddock where victory had long been claimed by men, you boldly stepped forward to stake your claim, ready to seize what was once exclusively theirs and make it your own.

You might always remembered that cold autumn day in London.

The basement was filled with dry warm air and the smell of sweat, each breath feeling like burning hot coals in your lungs. Your sweat melded with the rough wooden floorboards. Your breath echoed in the empty room, accompanied by the dull thud of dumbbells hitting the ground, like a lonely symphony.

The phone rang just as you stepped onto ground.

You stared at the blinking name of your agent on the screen, your heartbeat quickening, your fingers trembling slightly. What would this call bring? Fifty-fifty, your confidence and self-doubt intertwined: you were the best young driver of your generation, bar none—if you didn’t get the seat, no one would. Yet, reality also coldly reminded you that perhaps no team would be willing to take a chance on a female driver, right?

You answered the phone, your agent's voice urgent on the other end, like a mother scolding a child who had caused worry: “Y/N, you finally picked up! I've called you twenty times! I thought something happened to you!”

“Sorry, I just finished training. What’s going on?” You tried to keep your voice calm, but inside, it felt like countless hands were squeezing you, making it almost impossible to breathe. Countless possibilities flashed through your mind, and you were even afraid to know the outcome, fearing it would shatter your hopes. If you missed the next season, you didn’t know if you’d ever have such a good opportunity again.

She took a deep breath, the one-second pause feeling like an eternity to you.

Thankfully, her voice regained excitement.

“Y/N, you’re driving in F1 next season.”

Despite the chaotic emotions swirling within, your voice was much calmer than expected. “So, which team decided to take the risk?” Just a week ago, you had met with Williams team, who had a precedent of accepting women as reserve drivers. You had tried so hard to control the slight trembling of your fingers due to nerves and sound nonchalant. Entering F1 had already been a dream come true, but the thought of driving for the Silver Arrows — waves of excitement surged through your mind, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your chest.

There was almost an uncontrollable smile in her voice as she responded, as if every word was pulsating with joy. “Mercedes. You’ll be the second driver for the team.” You could almost feel her excitement transmitting through the signal.

Your mind went blank for a moment, your heart racing, as if all the voices in the world had disappeared in that moment. Only that word echoed incessantly in your mind. Mercedes.

“Is this... is this real?” Your voice trembled slightly.

“Of course it is real!” Her laughter held a hint of pride. “Mercedes has already sent a draft contract, we discussed some details, and we could announce it before the awards ceremony.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your emotions. “Thank you, thank you for all your support and help.”

“You deserved this, Y/N. Go celebrate tonight.”

In just two minutes, the rain in London had soaked your hair, droplets sliding down your cheeks, blending with your clothes. But you didn’t feel uneasy about it; instead, you felt a sense of joy blending with nature. You even felt like this ordinary rain was celebrating for you, baptizing you for your mission.

You knew you were ready to face the storms and rainbows of the racing world.

“Mercedes AMG F1team: Y/N Y/LN will line up alongside Lewis Hamilton in 2017”

“There is no doubt about Y/N’s skill and determination. Although F1 is extremely demanding on physical strength, she has proved that she is fully capable of meeting challenges.”

“Can women truly compete with men in extreme sports like F1? I have my doubts. Is this just a gimmick by the teams to attract attention and sponsors? Can she really make results? While gender equality is a noble idea, F1 requires the best drivers, regardless of gender. Is she truly capable, or is she merely a symbolic choice?”

Perhaps your unnormal answer touched the executives, and you had been granted a one-year, highly demanding contract—although they may have been satisfied with your willingness to be a second driver, whether you could be a consistent and unwavering second driver, that was still a cruel, untested new question for the team.

The first winter break as an F1 driver was eventful, even more so than you imagined. You had countless forms to sign, filming videos for promotional content was a daily task, and there were endless meetings with engineers. You met your race engineer — a talented woman full of potential. You couldn’t wait to see how your performance together would unfold in real races. Meanwhile, the media swarmed, eager for exclusive interviews, and even Vogue wanted to feature you on their cover before you had ever sat in the W08.

Your first meeting with your teammate was for simulator testing. You’ve crossed paths with him on various occasions several times — during a race, at FIA awards ceremony — but this marks the first time you met Lewis Hamilton as his teammate.

You shouldn’t have been fixated on this, but you felt Lewis Hamilton had far more charm than any video or picture could capture.

You still remembered the moment he pulled you into a hug. His black eyes shimmered with warmth, and despite his muscular arms, his embrace made you feel comfortable and secure. It was hard not to gaze at the tattoos on his smooth skin as his voice, gentle yet magnetic, with a slight British accent, said, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hello, Lewis. I’m so glad to be your teammate.”

“The honor is mine. Perfect GP2 season, huh? Highest-scoring champion.”

For some reason, you were glad he noticed your achievements — not as a female driver, but as a driver. Not with labels like the first female F1 driver of the 21st century.

“Thank you, Lewis.” You tried to remain as calm as possible, masking the subtle excitement within.

Lewis lightly patted your shoulder. “We’ll do a mega job together this season.”

You nodded. “We will, I’ll give it my all.”

You didn’t disappoint anyone.

On March 26th, your first race in your F1 career took place in Melbourne, Australia, and you smoothly made it onto the podium, not at all like a rookie. In the following four races, you secured three second places, making people to cry out about how damn fast the W08 was. Some even said that even the rocket car would seem reserved compared to a car could turn a rookie into a podium driver like that.

Of course, the fans who watched the race didn’t attribute your performance solely to the car’s speed.

You had abandoned your aggressive driving style, making your car flow smoothly like water along perfect lines, calmly following Lewis Hamilton. Anyone attempting to overtake you found themselves ensnared in your relentless defense.

Whether it was starts, tire saving, or long runs — things rookies often struggled with — you performed exceptionally well. Your only technical weakness seemed to be overtaking, but this flaw was completely offset by the W08’s superior performance. And to the team, being bad at overtaking was an advantage. After all, the only car usually ahead of you was Lewis’s. Why bother being good at overtaking?

Mercedes could only rejoice at your precise and forceful defense and your unwavering support in driving and escorting.

Lewis’s viewpoint evolved over time. At first, he might have entertained thoughts like “two more races and she will demand more chances”, but as he witnessed your performance on the track, his sentiment transformed to “damn, she’s really something special”. It was a gradual realization, punctuated by moments like when you quietly secured yet another victory for him.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Lewis finally broached the subject in cooling room. “You had fresher tires. Why didn’t you ever try to overtake me?”

“My contract states that without team orders, I can’t overtake you.” You couldn’t help but notice the slight embarrassment in Lewis’s expression.

“Besides,” you continued, offering a smile, “I’m not that good at overtaking anyway.”

Your first victory came in the first GP after the summer break, at your home race. With such an outstanding and eye-catching local rookie driver, it was undoubtedly the biggest event of the year for fans.

The stands were packed, every corner filled with enthusiastic supporters waving flags, cheering, and shouting encouragement for you. It was more than just a race; it was a celebration, with the entire city immersed in joy and pride.

Your path to victory, however, was full of surprises.

Initially, Mercedes executed back-to-back pitstop strategy perfectly. Kimi's second pitstop should have put him between you and Lewis or right behind you, where you could block him. But the Mercedes pit crew had an unusual difficulty; they struggled with the left front tyre, leaving Lewis in the pits for a staggering 11.4 seconds. By then, his chance for the win had disappeared. He dropped to 7th place and took 13 laps to fight back to fourth, eventually getting stuck battling Sebastian for third.

Meanwhile, you and Kimi were locked in a wheel-to-wheel duel for a full five minutes.

Since you entered the pits right after Kimi, you were behind him when you came out. Your tires were in exactly the same condition. Even though theoretically this year Mercedes’car had more advantages, you were not good at overtaking, and you were stuck in a stalemate despite your best efforts.

At this moment, your race engineer on the radio confirmed that Lewis had no chance of winning and encouraged you to push for the win.

You bit your lower lip as you looked at Kimi ahead of you.

For the first time all season, a burning emotion surfaced clearly and definitively in your mind: you felt you could do it. Not with your usual rational judgment, but with an adrenaline-fueled belief. You could prove that you were not just a reliable team driver but one of the best in the sport. This time, you were destined to stand on the top podium and become a champion.

Your fierce competition elicited constant gasps from commentators and audiences.

“Y/LN is now the sharpest blade of the Silver Arrows — just two laps to go! Turn 2!

Räikkönen cuts inside perfectly! It’s useless! Y/LN remains calm, anticipating as if living in his mind!”

You knew your home track inside out —Turns 1 to 3 is a combination of gradually tightening corners, and Turn 15 at the end of the back straight connected the highest speed on the circuit to the slowest turn — ideal for overtaking.

Your head ached as if a blood vessel might burst, but your mind was excited. You tried to breathe calmly, reporting speed, tire condition, balance to the team with a steady voice. On the final straight, you and Kimi both opened the DRS, crossing the line under the checkered flag.

The next thing you remembered was the fireworks whistling through the sky. Lewis pulled you out of the car, hugging you excitedly, jumping up and down with congratulations — finish line footage and speed checks had confirmed you won, just 0.05 seconds.

The crowd erupted, celebrating the first home championship in history. You sat on top your car, waving to the fans and staffs.

Waiting, stepping onto the podium, spraying champagne.….. Kimi and Lewis both aimed their first sprays at your face. You closed your eyes, letting the champagne flow down your cheeks as if they were your own tears. The crowd’s celebration roared through the night, with every face radiating pride and excitement because of you. Your rookie season, your home race, your first victory. It felt like no moment could ever be more perfect.

“Y/N Y/LN to Make Herstory as First F1 Female Race Winner”

“From Rookie to Champion: Y/N Y/LN’s Epic Battle with Kimi Räikkönen for Victory”

“Yes, it’s been a rollercoaster ride. We made mistakes but did a great job of fixing them and finished with 1-3 podium.

The duel with Kimi was intense; I have to give him credit for pushing me to my limits.

I want to thank the fans who came out today and those who sat in front of their TVs to support me. Winning in home means a lot to me.

No, I won’t overemphasize the meaning of this winning. It’s just one of many in my F1 career. Soon, everyone will get used to a female driver winning races. I believe that.”

Your performance gradually stabilized in the following races. Even if you didn't become a race winner again, you consistently finished in the points. While your peers were still vying to be the team’s core, you miraculously silenced the haters by winning third place in the WDC, earning a three-year, higher-paying contract with Mercedes.

In such a friendly atmosphere, it was hard for your relationship with Lewis not to warm up.

On the track, he would wholeheartedly defend you when he was behind, and off the track, he acted as your mentor, helping you get rid of the bad mood caused by self-doubt. He always skillfully handled awkward questions from journalists for you and knew the best restaurants in every race city.

After you declined Lewis’s invitation to go skydiving during the winter break, he invited you to his home. There, you met his family, who gave you warm hugs just like his. His nephew brought out a bunch of your merch for you to autograph, saying he supported you in every race.

In the 2018 season, although Mercedes maintained a dominant position, they encountered formidable competition from other teams, most notably Ferrari. This rivalry intensified throughout the season, reaching a climax at the German Grand Prix, where fans were treated to a spectacular and dramatic spectacle.

Mercedes’ race strategy was essentially centered around you — Lewis’s car had a mechanical failure in qualifying, starting from 14th in Hockenheimring.

Even though the W09 was fast enough, starting from the back made it easy to get caught in traffic jams. Lewis needed to overtake as many cars as possible before the rain starts, and you needed to push hard to challenge Seb, aiming for the win if possible. At the very least, avoided crashing into the barriers. This increased your pressure, as Mercedes was 20 points behind Ferrari in the Constructors‘ Championship, and today’s points would likely depend mainly on your performance.

Started in the front, you found yourself locked in a tense battle with Sebastian’s Ferrari, the red car a formidable obstacle in your quest for victory. Today Ferrari was incredibly fast on Seb's home track.

In between two prancing horse, you feel quite passive, all you could do was patiently wait for their mistakes. The good news was that Lewis was climbing up, and there were soon two Mercedes among the front runners.

The sky started to rain, making the track slippery and driving more difficult, leading to a flurry of activity in the pit lane as teams scrambled to switch to wet tires. You weren’t particularly good in the rain, now was also not a good pit stop window for you. So you had to move the brake bias during the race to deal with the tricky conditions, keeping your W09 on the race line.

“I got a bit of a tankslapper on, but I managed to get it back.” The race was a bit challenging for your soft tyre.

“Good job, Y/N.”

However, when the rain got worse and more widespread, Seb lost control at Turn 11 and crashed into the barriers — the turning point. The safety car was deployed.

The team radio crackled to life, the voice of your race engineer guiding you through the chaos. “Y/N, Box, box, box.” you made pit stop for new tires under team orders during the safety car period, while Lewis decided to stay out on track at the last moment.

What a genius decision. During the 20 seconds the pit crew was searching for the tires, your only thought was being glad that Lewis didn’t came into the pits, with a mix of sadness and relief. Otherwise, a double podium would have turned into a double disaster.

Thankfully Kimi pitted on the following lap. Amidst the chaos of the race, there was a dramatic and rapid reversal of fortune. As the rain shower began, what initially looked like a dominant 1-2 finish for Ferrari was swiftly transformed into a commanding 1-2 lead for Mercedes.

“Now Lewis Hamilton is back in his faithful P1, Y/N Y/LN has exited the pit. Let’s see if she will challenge her teammate with those fresh tires—”

“What position am I?”

“P2, Lewis is ahead, Kimi is behind.”

“Copy. Tell Lewis I am backing Kimi; he can pull out the gap.”

In the post-race media pen, it was no surprise that Natalie Pinkham asked you about not attacking Hamilton in the final stages of the race.

“Y/N, congrats on your P2,” she began, “today’s race was very exciting, especially your performance in the rain. But I have a straightforward question—why didn’t you try to attack Hamilton in the last stint? Your tires were much fresher, and you could have won the race. From aiming for the win to defending for Hamilton, do you feel any disappointment?”

“Thank you for asking what every fan wants to know,” the surrounding journalists chuckled in unison. “Firstly, I’d like to say all decisions were in the best interest of the team.”

You paused for a moment and continued, “The track was still very slippery at that time, and I think under those conditions, only Ferrari fans would want to see me attacking Lewis.”

You emphasized, “I didn’t want to risk the team’s success for my personal victory. We were 20 points behind Ferrari before the race; now we’re leading by 23 points. That’s the best outcome.”

Before interviewing the next driver, Natalie turned off the microphone and gave you a hug. “Y/N, you did great. You are too good to be a second driver.”

Even Lewis came to talk to you after the race.

Mercedes rented an entire club to celebrate the 1-2 finish. You could enjoy free from the worry of tomorrow’s potential gossip about your dance partners. It was a relatively relaxed atmosphere until Lewis approached you.

You repeatedly assured him that his win was his own achievement — P14 to P1, mega job. Even if you hadn’t defended Kimi in the last few laps, he would have won because Seb had already retired. No matter how stupid Ferrari might be, they wouldn’t risk a double DNFs.

Lewis might not have been so careful in the past, but perhaps the constant arguments with Rosberg and the millions of euros in car damage over the past few years have taught him something.

A common misconception people had was, with the team’s favoritism, good cars, and a second driver assisting, even a dog could win WDC with such treatment. The flaw in this logic was, why would a team favor a backmarker?

A driver’s success was not solely based on team strategy or car performance. While these elements were crucial, the driver’s skill, determination, and ability to execute under pressure are what truly made the difference.

While theoretically any racer driving a Silver Arrows rocket had a chance at the title, but Mercedes didn’t pour over 400 million euros into the F1 team each year to nurture rookie drivers. Champion drivers didn't win because of good treatment; they earned the best treatment by first becoming champions. Lewis performed exceptionally well, so the team rallied around him.

Of course you understood it.

You had so much to improve, you had to wait patiently, knowing that opportunities might be scarce for a long time. You needed the most resilient determination, the keenest judgment and insight — neither slipping into inertia and fatigue due to the former, nor becoming anxious and impatient due to the latter. Like a leopard in hiding, you had to wait for the right moment to strike, with the sharpest claws and the fiercest gaze.

After the German Grand Prix, the chatter among fans about Mercedes’ unshakable dominance and the remarkably close bond between you and Lewis became the talk of the internet. The media eagerly fueled the flames, dubbing you both the paddock’s “power couple”while some fans affectionately joked that you were Lewis’s housewife on the track, who helped him clean up opponents on the track. It was certainly preferable to the spiteful remarks from haters who accused you of being nothing more than Lewis’s doormat.

As you shared the amusing sarcastic comments from fans at Lewis’s home in Monaco, your “son” Roscoe circled your feet, while your “husband” was casually dressed with his hair down, making fresh juice, trying to persuade you to move to Monte-Carlo.

“My husband definitely wouldn't be your type.”

Lewis paused his work, ready to hear your grand declaration. “I need a trophy husband — beautiful, hot, who loves me wholeheartedly but isn’t too needy. The season is long, and I'm very busy. But when I need him, he has to show up at the paddock immediately, so he can’t have a job or be in school.”

A hearty laugh escaped Lewis’s lips, “When I retire, I might meet those standards.”

“No way, I’m not letting you retire. I’m a knight defending your WDC titles.”

He was nearly crying with laughter, “So, I’m Princess Lewis now?”

You thought Roscoe barked in agreement.

Obviously even the most seemingly perfect couples have their arguments.

As the red lights went out, Lewis Hamilton, fueled by his desire to win and yesterday’s pole position, launched into the lead, dominating the track.

Starting from 4th, you made a smooth start and stealthily slid into third, effectively sandwiching Max Verstappen between the two Mercedes.

The Australian Grand Prix was nothing short of spectacular. In the final three laps, Max relying on Red Bull’s brilliant strategy decisions, continued to close the gap to Lewis. No one could tell if he would overtake at the last moment.

“Hamilton is still leading, but the tire wear is too fast. If nothing changed, he might be caught in the last lap and a half.”

Mercedes’ strategy team was in overdrive, their headsets buzzing with a cacophony of contrasting tones.

On one side, Lewis was calmly asking, “How many seconds is Max behind me?” On the other, you were rambled concerns, “These tyres are dead at the rear, and please give me Max’s speed—”

Alternating between the two drivers, it was enough to make the engineers’ brains, which had been operating at high speed for over an hour, overheat and crash.

Bono was heavily reporting to Lewis about the worsen tire conditions, preparing him mentally to be overtaken, while on your end, you received information about the lap times of Charles Leclerc, who was closely chasing behind. You were also comforted with an assurance that you should hold on and most likely secure third place.

You didn’t understand: “Hey girl, I didn’t ask about Leclerc.”

Then, he must be fourth. With three laps to go, was the team giving up on the champion? You felt this wasn’t right.

“Please tell me Max and Lewis’ lap times,” you calmly inquired again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, you won’t overtake Verstappen, the tires—”

“Lap time.” you forcefully interrupted. Because with the tires heavily worn, it was unlikely for you to overtake Verstappen and take second place, but causing trouble for him and allowing Lewis to get to first place was a different story.

Let’s hope you wouldn’t fly off the track.

But the racetrack wasn’t exactly God’s territory, as most drivers’ prayers rarely got answered. So, the worst-case scenario happened.

In the second-to-last lap, you were side by side with Verstappen in Turn 4, and two seconds later of wheel-to-wheel competition, your left rear tire finally couldn’t hold on, causing the car to lose balance and fly off the track at over 300km/h, dragging the Red Bull alongside it.

Charles Leclerc, miraculously jumping from fourth to second, was startled, sliding on the track and looking in disbelief at the disappearing Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton, reporting in shock over the radio, “They’re both out! Are they okay?”

“Plan B, Plan B!” The engineer screamed frantically, signaling Leclerc to focus and cross the finish line. Suddenly aware of his miraculous rise to second place, Monegasque sweetheart quickly stepped on the pedal, preventing Magnussen from overtaking him from behind.

In the grandstands, team pits, and commentator boxes, screams of excitement erupted uncontrollably. But amidst the sand and stones where Max and your cars had sunk, you felt like even the air was quiet, as if the thundering engine sounds couldn’t penetrate the helmets and cockpits.

Your only thought was that you had indeed fulfilled the promise you made in the interview, to push Lewis’s competitor out.

Lewis celebrated for five minutes before realizing what had happened behind him. Then, the joy of victory disappeared completely.

He remained silent, his expression turning cold, after confirming that the podium ceremony wouldn’t start for some time, he returned to the garage.

You slouched on the couch, a soft pillow under your head, but you still couldn’t control the dizziness, nausea, and urge to vomit. Fortunately, you could still count fingers and remember everything, so it was probably just a mild concussion.

You felt a little sad. Maybe this was where you differed from male drivers. You couldn’t train the most aesthetically pleasing thick necks admired in the paddock, so your ability to resist g forces was weaker that you got a concussion with just a slight bump.

You raised your head and saw Lewis’ stormy expression. His anger was evident, with a cold face and tightly pursed lips.

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t need you to do this, I can—”

“Please give us a few minutes alone, please,”you looked at the staff in the room, and they tactfully left, leaving the room quiet again.

He continued to shout at you loudly, “I can win on my own, and if I can’t win, it’s my own damn fault. I don’t want to use these methods, and I don’t t care about how your f*cking second driver contract—”

You looked quietly at his excited face, patiently listening to his volcanic eruption. When he finally stopped, you extended a hand to signal that you also wanted to say something.

He crouched in front of you, you wanted to touch his shoulder, but your hand trembled and ended up on his neck. Well, damn. You were too weak to resist.

So you gently touched Lewis’ neck and jaw, softly saying like petting Roscoe, “I swear to you, Lewis, this was really an accident. I didn’t mean to crash, just wanted to buy some time... but the tire still blew. You know, these things happen all the time, it’s just this time... it’s a bit dramatic.”

You could see Lewis was uncomfortable with your hand. After a few seconds, he also apologized in your gentle touch, “Hey, you make me feel guilty. I probably couldn’t win anyway, which is annoying —but I can win next time. I don’t want you to get a concussion just because I want to win.”

“So are we good?” you tried to force a smile,

“Only you promise me you won’t do anything dangerous next time.”

You nodded, locking eyes with him.

“Pinky promise?”

You raised your trembling hand, a physiological reaction from your brain losing control. But soon Lewis’ hand came over, giving your hand something to lean on, so it stopped shaking.

Contracts written in black and white often protect the cost of betrayal, while Ineffective childish promises always encourage true feelings and trust. You stared quietly at each other for a moment, then Lewis held your hand and gently kissed it.

His voice was a little hoarse, “Just trust me a little more, okay?”

to be continued

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine

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valley-of-headcanons · 1 day

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hello!!! i just started following your blog recently and i love your headcanons :] !!

i wanted to request some headcanons about the farmer's first kiss with the bachelors and bachelorettes :3c (can be separate posts if needed! no rush <3)

maybe things like where and when it'll happen, if it's early on or later on in their relationship, if they even have a relationship yet when it does happen, etc. :0

thanks so much for reading this lol, and keep up the good work!!! <3

bachelors' first kiss with farmer || headcanons

sharing such a magical experience with your lover is better than you could've ever imagined! <3 part two here!

warning: alcoholism and self-hatred in shane's part (relapsing), a few kisses without explicit consent. guys, please learn some decency 🙄

requested by: anon! hi, so sorry for the late response! thank you for the request though, i deeply appreciate it! such a cute one too! :) i hope you enjoy, because i had a ton of fun writing it! part two will be out eventually :)

alex

• Alex wouldn't wait to kiss you, to be honest. It would essentially be right after a love confession, even before you two start officially dating. He's too overjoyed with the fact that you actually feel the same about him, and he really wants to show you. After dinner and the saloon, the night he confessed to you, he walked you home like the true gentleman he is. As he walked you to your dimly like doorstep, he held your hand for a moment. The look in his eyes showed that he didn't want to leave yet, or ever.

• He took a deep breath before softly taking both of your hands in his. “Can I give you a goodnight kiss? Even if it's on the cheek, I don't mind. I want to make sure you're comfortable ... but I also want to make you feel loved. Whatever you're comfortable with is perfectly fine,” he said with a nervous smile. The soft glow of your porch light illuminated you so perfectly, he didn't want to lose this picture of you. You're so perfect in his eyes.

• After you let him know that it was okay to kiss you, he slowly rested his hands on your waist in the most respectful manner he could. Once he noticed you were okay with it, he slowly leaned into your lips. The kiss felt like sparks flew across your yard. It was soft but the passion behind it wasn't concealed. The fast heartbeat in both of your chests sounded like a metronome on the verge of short-circuiting. It was so, so lovely.

elliot

• Elliott and patience doesn't seem to pair well. Did we really expect him to wait very long? In all seriousness, it would probably be before the actual confession. He wouldn't do it unless he saw reciprocating signs, of course. You two were relaxing on the beach one night, watching the dark waves under the moonlight. The conversation was deeply poetic and romantic, explaining life's mysteries with metaphors and similes like it was just common knowledge.

• “The moon and the sun are so distant from each other, but they're nothing without the other. The moon wouldn't have its light, the sun would have nothing to show its light to. But once in a lifetime, they eclipse each other for just a moment ... do you think that this moment is an eclipse? You, the sun, and I, the moon? ... I find the idea quite enchanting ...” he said, his eyes tracing your face.

• He locks eyes with you, analyzing your expression with everything he can. He slowly lifts his hand and rests it against your own, almost like a test. When you don't pull away and instead move closer, that's when he knows. He leans into you slowly, so that if you want to pull away, you can. You don't. Your lips connect like the waves crashing on the shore beside you; the moon's heart strings are certainly tied to the ocean. Strong but calming, pulling you deeper and deeper. What a way to end a beautiful night.

harvey

• Harvey wouldn't kiss you until you're in a relationship, and it might take a while. He wanted to make it special! He's so unsure about the romantic aspect of life since he's so stuck in his work. So, he decided to make it special! He invited you to the forest after dark, where he had set up a picnic blanket. Candles were all over the area, but you soon discovered that they were fake candles, because Harvey wouldn't be caught dead causing a forest fire. A nice meal was prepared, something Harvey cooked himself. This dinner was for your six month anniversary.

• He nervously asks, “So ... I-I know that this is our sixth month anniversary, and I was wondering if you'd like to dance with me?” You're surprised, but you oblige. He puts on some soft, slow-dance music and offers his hand. He's not very good, but he can sway. You notice the nervous look on face and the slight sweat on his hands as you dance below the stars. You ask what's wrong.

• “... would it be okay if I- ... uh ... kissed you?” Harvey asked with a small, nervous smile. He was so embarrassed, but when you gave a nod, he was over the moon. He cupped your cheek with his hand, staring into your starstruck eyes before leaning in. The kiss was so incredibly soft, sweet, and caring. It felt like you were lifted into the star-studded sky, laying gently on a cloud. It was beautiful and definitely worth the wait.

sam

• It wouldn't take Sam too long to kiss you. Maybe a week or two at most. He likes the romantic aspect of a relationship, but kissing is kissing in his eyes! It's not the most serious part in his opinion, but it's pretty cool, right? It would happen the night of his first concert with you two officially a couple. You stood at the edge of the stage, staring up to watch him perform. The crowd was small, but they were heavily enjoying the music. Specifically, the song he wrote for you.

• At the end of the night after the crowd goes home, you ran to hug him. You tell him how amazing the concert and how you feel about the song he wrote you. “I'm so glad you loved it! I wrote it a little while ago, back when I started crushing on you. It's a sweet little tune. We didn't really start composing the instruments and shit until I realized I was in love with you- ... oh fuck, I didn't- but- ... I love you. I really do love you. More than anything, actually ...” Maybe this was a little more serious than just a kiss.

• Sam's face was bright red, both from the sweat after performing and his bashfulness. When you said it back, he practically jumped for joy. He held you tightly within his arms and pressed kisses all over your face. He hesitated, before kissing your lips. Fireworks, an array of colors exploded as your lips met. The world disappeared while you were in his arms, just every color you could ever think of.

sebastian

• Sebastian would probably kiss you before you two officially started dating. But, you'd immediately start dating after, he doesn't like loose strings like that. When he showed you his bike one night, he asked if you wanted to take a ride to the city. After he shoved a helmet on your head, you were both good to go. Holding onto the back of him for dear life was enough to make both of your faces flush with color. As you two made it to your destination, he really couldn't get that moment out of his mind.

• You two were on the outskirts of the city, a small park that Sebastian liked to visit. He couldn't shake the feeling of your arms around him ... maybe it was a sign. “Hey, do you wanna go bike riding again soon? I didn't expect to like it so much with company, but I guess you're an exception ... my face isn't red- how can you even see? There are no lights except the stars! ... fine, you win, but it's your fault. You ... there's a lot of things about you that make me blush, okay? ...”

• The two of you sat under the stars in the cold, wet grass as he stared into your eyes. “... you look so pretty in the light of the stars, is this how you look every night? ... can I kiss you?” he asked, his face bright red and his freckles illuminated. When you nodded, he softly pressed his lips against yours. He was gentle, but his hand slowly slid to your lower back to pull you in a little more. The kiss was the flickers of a fireplace, contained but oh so warm. It felt like warmth, peace, and home. Maybe this was where you belonged.

shane

• It would take Shane a while to warm up to the idea of being in a relationship, and an even longer time to kiss you. He's always worried about how serious this will be, and he doesn't want to kiss you if you're just going to end up wasting his time. However, he's convinced in enough time. You two were sitting at the pier at the lake below your farm, and he was a bit tipsy. He had relapsed again, but not by too much. He was only a bit tipsy, but definitely emotional. You two were a few weeks into dating, and he didn't entirely trust you yet, but ... he was working on it.

• He was ranting, severely upset. “I tried so hard this time, but it just got away from me. I don't get it! Everyone tries so hard to stop me but I always find a way to get back to the bottle. You try ... so fuckin' hard to stop me. I let you down ev'ry damn time- I always let you down! It pisses me off how hard you try and how passionate you are! I-I just- ...” he says, his voice beginning to break as he looks into your eyes.

• Your were about to speak before his lips attached to yours. It was as though lightning struck you, his hand resting on your waist as he kissed you with an unprecedented amount of passion. It shocked your body to the core, but you couldn't get enough of it. He was desperate for this, he needed this. Whether it be the liquor on his lips or his sober thoughts, this was the one thing he wanted.

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thisonehere · 16 hours

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OMG I HAVE SUCH ANGST IDEA

HOW ABOUT WRITING OF RUIN JOHNNY&SONYA MARRIAGE, AND HOW JOHNNY FOUND CONSOLATION WITH KENSHI AND HOW JOHNNY HAVE PROBLEMS WITH ACCEPTING HIS FEELINGS FOR A MAN

IF HE AFRAID JUDGMENT AND REACTION OF HIS EX WIFE, FRIENDS, DAUGHTER

OMG ITS SO BADLY AND PAINFUL 😰

Omg, I love it 😭

Blindsided

A/n: Aw yes, Johnshi, the superior Cage ship (sorry CageBlade shippers out there, please don't rip my head off). Anyway, I kept it vague on which timeline this takes place in. Now, let the agnst -filled torturing of these characters commence!

Tags: Request, Mk, MK AU, Ship: Johnshi, angst

C/w: Bed rotting, mlm, internalized homophobia, angst (when I say angst I really mean it), alluding to possible self harm, self loathing, grief, poor hygiene

Johnny and Sonya had the picture perfect marriage. They were crazy for each other, travelled the world togethe, and lovingky raised their daughter to a total baddasss. Truly, everything is perfect...or at least that's what Johnny wants people to believe. The false reality he created on social media, the illusion of the life he wanted but could never have.

The truth? Their marriage was dying, or had already been dead the moment they said "I do." Johnny loved Sonya with all his heart, but he could feel their marriage crumbling apart just by looking at her eyes. Her eyes were neither scorn nor adoration, there was just...indifference. it was worse than anything else she could give. He could deal with disdain, he could deal with bad reviews and hate online, but not apathy. That means it's over, that there's no more fighting.

They did get into a lot of arguments, though even were stiff and lifeless. A lot of times over nothing, Sonya because she found annoyance in the slightest thing he does, Johnny because, well, because he just wanted to feel something. He didn't care that it was hatred, he just wanted to feel some form of passion from her. Often he lies awake next to, though she's present Johnny might as have been alone. He was so cold and alone that he swore that if he looked at her side of the bed she'd be gone.

When they first met Johnny, things seemed amazing between the two, there was so much passion between them Sure Sonya didn't like him...a-and he did harass her a lot until she finally agreed to date him...but surely they had love at some point...right?

"Baby, wait, please!" Johnny cried as he chased after Sonya down the stairs. "What did I say about calling me that?" Sonya rolled her eyes as she march down the stairs to the door, where her bags were. Johnny's eyes widen in horror at the sight of it. This can't be happening, it just can't. She can't be leaving, not now, not after everything they've built together. They made a home, raised a daughter to become a badass, and protected earthrealm countless times.

"You can't seriously be leaving me!" He says as he finds the speed to jump in front of her in hopes of blocking her path. He tried to flash his ever charming and charismatic. Maybe acting the way he used to would bring something back. But Sonya just rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "Look, Johnny, I can't...I can't just do this anymore." She tried to articulate, she wasn't the best at romance. She was actually terrible at it. Possibly another reason for this reason this relationship couldn't work.

"Bab-Sonya...please, just talk to me." He voice is more desperate now. Sonya can't leave, she just can't, she means so much to him. He has had many wives over the, many of them only lasting only, for what, like a month? Johnny wasn't too bothered by most of them, he had already checked by the time they ended. But with Sonya, he wasn't ready, he still wanted this work. But as he stared into her eyes, he saw the same look that he had when he was done. "What about Cassie? She-"

"Cassie's old enough now that she can handle it."

Dammit, she's right. At this point Johnny was pulling at straws to get her stay. But nothing was working. "Look Johnny, I'm sorry. But I can't do this anymore...I don't...uh..." Love you, Johnny finishes in his head. Sonya didn't mean to hurt, but that didn't mean she wasn't. "Sonya..." Johnny tried to reach out to her, but she backed away. "I'm sorry." And with that, she turned, grabbed her bags and walked out the doors. Johnny watched in horror as she gave one him last look as she closed the door behind her.

The next few weeks were hell for Johnny. Many grew worried for him when less and less was seen of him. Many of his fans were going into a frenzy as they speculated about what happened to him, maybe he was planning a major surprise, a new secret project perhaps. But the reality was that he couldn't even build up the strength to get out of bed.

Many of his up and coming projects were delayed or even cancelled. Cassie filled his phone with hundreds of missed calls. If she was even able to reach him, he'd give the same "Everything's fine, I'm just feeling a little sick" bullshit excuse. She knew that the divorce would have a negative effect on it, but she didn't know it would be that bad. She herself was hurting because of her parents splitting, but it made her even worse to see how badly he'd been effected.

If she could only see her father right now, oh the ways she'd be devastated. He shifts unfortunately in his bed, trying to find some form of comfort, but rest evades him at every turn. He hasn't showered, he hasn't even changed out of the clothes he wore that horrible day. He hasn't eaten much, his breath stank of alcohol, his eyes died red with tears.

Each day since Sonya left him has been more painful than the last, this day was no exception. Johnny got out of bed, with a painful moan, he stretched and then went into the kitchen. Not to find food, but to drench his throat with more expensive liquor. He rummaged through the collection of wine he had grabbed from the wine cellar a few days prior, already almost everything was gone, save for a few expensive wines. The one he pucked was just an ordinary seeming red wine, but it was the same wine he and Sonya picked up during their honeymoon away in some country maybe an entire realm. It was something he wanted to share with Sonya on their wedding anniversary. But now he needs it to console him for they're divorce.

He downed it straight from the bottle with a hopeful gulp. Maybe this would numb he pain, make the hole inside of him full. Or at least make him forget the state his heart was reduced to. It wasn't shattered, it just felt gone, it left With Sonya the day she walked out the door.

He was alone now, the house echoed at each gulp he made, its walls vibrated with the echoes of him throwing the bottle in a moment of blind fury. "FUCK" He finally exerts, he throws almost every last thing he sees in any direction he can. It all shatters as Johnny fell to his knees and began to sob.

Oh God...he's alone. No one is here for him. Cassie, Jax, and all his other friends are miles away, (or at least that's what it feels like.)

Why, Johnny wonders, why is (the) God(s) so cruel? Why would they leave me like this? Why would they make him be alone, unloved and un

*knock*

Johnny's ears piped up at this, his head jerked and his eyes darted to the direction of the door. Who could that possibly be?

----

Why am I doing this? Kenshi wandered to himself as he banged on Johnny's front door. He and Johnny were friends, they worked together to protect Earthrealm, and went on countless adventures with each other , yes, but they haven't spoken in so long. Something had happened between the two, a rift formed that pushed Kenshi away from him. Sonya, the left was Sonya, or Johnny's interest in her to be precise

Kenshi didn't take this pairing seriously at first, after all, Sonya hated Johnny and Johnny couldn't take a hint. The likelihood of the two being together was so unlikely, the mere concept of it filled Kenshi with a strange bitter and angry feeling. Kenshi hated when Johnny flirted with Sonya, he hated the way Johnny looked at her, he hated the way she began to return his gaze, he just hated it all. He didn't know why but he just did. Perhaps it was because of this hatred that caused him and Johnny to fall apart. They hadn't spoken much since the wedding, but when he heard about the divorce and how badly it hit him, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The image of him languishing in agony in his bed, his face soaked with tears. For some reason the image of him being in pain hurt him for some reason.

So now he's here, at Johnny's door with a box of chocolate. Why the chocolate? He didn't know, it felt wrong to come by empty handed, and bringing chocolate felt right. This is a breakup he's dealing with, so why not?

As he waited for Johnny to open the door, he felt his hands getting sweaty. He felt...nervous for a reason. Why? He's coming here to check on Johnny, it's not like he's coming to ask him on a date.

His ears immediately picked when he heard hurriedly footsteps come to the door, no doubt Johnny was hoping it might have Sonya at the door. The door swings open and Johnny's head pops out. Kenshi didn't need to see to know that Johnny had a giant and hopeful smile on his face. He truly thought he'd see Sonya at his door.

"Kenshi..." The disappointment sinks in. His voice was low and hoarse, no joy or at could be heard. Only a returning sadness. No quips, no puns, or any other usual Cage annoying charm. Johnny sounded drained, lifeless. No doubt he looked that way as well. Kenshi's heart sank at this, actually witnessing Johnny in this state hurt him a greater deal then he expected. "I-uh-I brought you chocolate." Kenshi spouts abruptly as he hands Johnny the box.

"Uh... Thanks." He awkwardly accepts the box with a nod. "I-It's caramel. Well, milk chocolate and some other flavors, b-but mainly caramel." This is weird, Kenshi thought, why am I so nervous?

"Listen, I heard what happened between you and Sonya." At that second, Kenshi felt Johnny's shoulders slump down and his already fragile spirit collapsed even further. "And I heard how hard it's been on you. I just came to check on you and see how things were going, if you were alright."

"Yeah..."

"Cassie's worried about you."

"I know."

"We're all worried about you actually."

"Oh...o-okay."

God, this was so awkward between the two. Kenshi never was good at handling situations like this, but he has to. He has to help Johnny. "Do you want to talk about? I'm here for you if you want...you know...talk. N-Not just about the divorce, j-just anything in particular." At this moment, Kenshi's face blushes with embarrassment. He was fumbling his words. Hw just wanted to put his head into a hole and hide there forever.

It's not going to work, I messed up so badly.

"I'd like that. C-could we do it right now, actually?"

Well, what do you know? It worked.

---

"It hasn't been easy lately, it's actually been hell." Kenshi shifts unfortunately in the love seat he and Johnny sat on. The other couches were too messy to be sat so the two sat on this tiny couch, it was meant for him and Sonya but now Kenshi was taking up the other space.

"Out of all my marriages, I don't know, I thought this one would've worked. I loved her so much, the moment I laid my eyes on her, I thought about our whole future already." Johnny picked at the chocolate's in the box, hoping that maybe something in there might make him feel less bitter inside. He avoided Kenshi's face, he didn't know why, but something about him made Johnny shy. It's been like that since he first met him, he couldn't place this feeling for Kenshi, all that he knew is that he made him feel shy and Johnny didn't like that feeling.

Kenshi just sat there, listening attentively as if every word of his heartbroken rambling was the most important things in the world. This alighted the warmth inside of him, it made Johnny feel a little bit better, like he mattered or something. "I-I wanted it to work, god, I wanted it to work so bad. I thought everything was going amazingly, we had an awesome wedding, a literal god attended, we had a badass daughter who kicked another god's ass. We've had rough patches in the relationship, true, but I thought we'd work it out." Johnny felt cold inside again, he set aside the chocolate box, nothing in there would make him feel any better.

How....how did everything go to hell? He wondered. When he was with Sonya, the sky felt like it was the limit, things weren't perfect, but this wasn't that bad...right?

"Maybe it was always hell, your head was just too much in the clouds to notice." Kenshi said abruptly.

How did he...

'Telepath'

Right.

"A long time ago, I was in line with some bad people...but I thought everything was okay. I didn't care to notice the red flags, the warning sign, they all missed. Or I refused to notice them at least." Johnny shifted his seat this time. "And what's the point of this story?"

"I know how much you cared about Sonya, I wished you two had worked it out to" the words stung like poison in his mouth, "B-but maybe it just wasn't meant to be...maybe things weren't as perfect for Sonya as it was for you..." Johnny didn't say a single thing for a few moments, maybe he was still processing these words or maybe he heard them. but was in denial. Kenshi once again shifted in his seat. Finally Johnny gives a response, single tear.

"I just...I just wanted it to work. I wanted her to...to love me..." The tears grew heavier, his breath began to get shorter and shorter. "Why...why didn't she love me?" And at that moment, Johnny completely broke down. Tears rushed out of his eyes like a water faucet after it been turned on. He basically shrunk, reduced to a whimpering mess of snot and tears.

*Crack*

There it was, Kenshi's heart breaking. "Johnny..." He started, but he couldn't find the right words that would help him. Only his actions could help now. Without thinking, Kenshi lurched forward and gently wrapped his arms around Johnny, pulling him close in an embrace. "Hey..." Kenshi uttered softly under his breath, he hasn't done anything like since Suchin. He would hold her if she ever cried, which an often thing, so it made it all the more special when he did. It's strange to do so with Johnny, but it feels right. "I know...trust me, I know..."

Kenshi is taken by surprise as Johnny quickly wraps his arms around him, returning his embrace. Johnny's sobbing began to calm down as well as his whimpering and sniffles. Kenshi feels Johnny basically melt in his arms and he in Johnny's. And at that second, everything just felt right, like this is where they belonged...Kenshi lost himself in Johnny, and maybe Johnny did too.

In that second it felt like something clicked inside of both of them. Kenshi pulled back just little, just enough so that Johnny's faces could meet. They stared at each other for what felt like eternity. Before they stop to think, Kenshi's lips gently touch Johnny's. The whole world felt like new at that second, yet familiar at the same time. It felt like paradise as they sat there as they kissed, enjoying the warmth of the other...

But paradise ended as quickly as it started. Without warning Johnny rips away, a horrified look spreads across his, he stares at Kenshi with a disturbed as he realizes what just happened.

"Get out..."

"Johnny, I-"

"KENSHI, GET OUT!"

---

Okay, what the hell was that!? Johnny thought as he paced across the floor. His heart was racing a thousand miles, his head was spinning, this was all so hard to process. He-he and Kenshi…impossible. It can’t be, Kenshi’s a man! But he kissed him…and he-he liked it. No! Kenshi’s a man! Johnny, the renown ladies, can’t like men. He can’t be gay….c-can he?

No! He can’t! What would Sonya say? How would Cassie react? Jax, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Raiden, what do they think? His fans, hell, Hollywood, what they all do if they find out that Johnny Cage kissed a guy? Ah yes, that's right, they'd think less of him, no longer will they have any respect or love for their once golden boy, they'll throw him to the side, a place where he is out of sight and out of mind.

He could just see it, his daughter and Sonya looking down at him in disgust. They turn their backs on him and he'll never see them again. All his friends distancing themselves farther and farther away, spewing venomous words behind his back.

Those great fears swirl around his head so great that everything starts to swirl, his feet feel weak and his head light. He collapsed onto his bed and tries to catch his breath and get his heart to slow down. He tries to think about everything through, surely he didn't even like the kiss. He was just in the heat of the moment and kissed Kenshi, he was so caught up in the moment and just did...and he liked it. Damn it.

---

"What did you do?" Cassie had finally managed to find a corner Kenshi. The poor man could barely get a word in. Cassie was in a frantic state, whatever happened between them mustn't have been good. It has been an entire month since the..."incident". Johnny kept himself locked, but it seemed to be much worse this time. "You said you'd help him but now he not only blocked me, but also deleted all his social media accounts. HE deleted them! So tell me, what did you do?" He stood corrected. They all knew how much Johnny liked social media, the man was almost chronically online with how time he spent on those apps. Him deleting them was not a good sign. "Cassie, I....I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

Kenshi could feel his cheeks flush as he feels too flustered and embarrassed to explain. What was he supposed to say, 'Sorry Cass, me and your dad made out on his couch but then he freaked out and kicked me out. Sidenote, I'm in love with your dad.' Like that wouldn't be awkward.

"I...m-me and your father...something happened between...I-I can't tell you. But I-"

"* sigh* You know what, I'll just go see him myself."

"Cassie, wait-"

But Cassie bolts out the room slamming the door behind her, leaving Kenshi alone with his thoughts. And he hated it. His mind was reduced to a frazzled mess still after the whole month. He couldn't stop thinking about Johnny, about the Kiss, how he felt his heart broke when he told him to get out. But there was also relief inside of him. After all these years, everything finally made sense. He was in love with Johnny, god it felt so good to finally make sense of it. It was like a weight was lifted off of him. But it also hurts, he remembers when Johnny revealed that he and Sonya were getting married. Johnny excitedly described everything to Kenshi, the decorations, the seating arrangements, and most importantly the seat he saved for Kenshi. His heart sank at the news, it felt like he lost something and he'd never get it back. He didn't attend the wedding, he could just imagine it, Johnny staring at the empty seat in the front that was supposed to house his best friend.

He can't believe it, he's in love with Johnny. He feels like he's betrayed someone for feeling this way, like her hurt and used someone. He feels so disgusting inside because of this. He then thinks back to how Johnny basically rejected him, his heart is now broken. God, he's in so much pain right now. Not a wound or any kind of physical ailment, but in a place that no sword or gun could ever do.

"I'm sorry." Kenshi said under his breath, his breath getting heavy. "Johnny, Cassie, Sonya, Takeda...Suchin...Forgive me."

---

Today was another day where Johnny felt like crap. This day felt worse, he felt like he could barely move, it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. His skin felt dirty, his hair greasy and matted. He bet that if he got up and looked in the mirror he'd probably be horrified, his skin would pale and sickly looking, his body thin and frail looking, god just thinking about made him want to leave the bed less.

Kenshi.

The thought of him immediately rushes through mind without warning. It was an entire month and he still couldn't stop thinking about it. His lips were so soft, his arms were soft and warm and it felt amazing to be held by them, his smile was so cute, and he just good inside thinkimg of it. But this feeling always quickly fades as everything sinks back in.

He's gay-er-bi, he's excepted it, and he's never leaving the house again. He might as well, his family and friends will no doubt abandon him completely and refuse to ever see again. Kenshi probably already told them all and they probably hate him or they will if they ever find out. So decided to cut to the middle man just block them all and delete his socials, then waste away. Why not, who would possibly care about him?

*knock*

Kenshi.

The thought comes to his mind as soon as he hear the door being knocked on. He finds the energy to jump into a sitting position. He hasn't spoken or seen since he screamed at him to get out. Is he back? Johnny buries his face in the pillow, he doesn't want to see Kenshi right now. Before him all he had to worry about his divorce, now he realizes he gay and everyone he loves will probably judge him for being this way. He's too scared of what might happen if he opens that door...but he can't deny that he wants to see him again. When they kissed it felt like the world lit up for him, a magical moment that he can't forget. He felt things for Kenshi that he thought he could never feel for a man.

He keeps his face buried in the pillow. Nope, he thinks, after the way I treated him, I can't ever face him again.

*Knock*

Just stay here, Kenshi will away eventually.

*Knock*

Stay.

*Knock*

Stay here.

*Knock*

St-Oh what the hell?

And with that Johnny rips away the covers and jumps out of bed, races down down the stares to the door. He reaches for the door handle but then, he hesitates. He's sweating, was he always sweating? A nauseous feeling erupted in his stomach causing to back away from the door. Is this really the best idea? He can't seem to think of a single reason to open that door, this damn door that seemed to hold bad things every turn of the way. So he turns, beginning to walk.

"Dad!?"

Johnny hears behind the door. He stops in his tracks. No it can't be. "Dad, please, open up." It can. As Johnny hears his daughter calling to him, his heart sinks to another level. No, he can't face his daughter, out of all the people he fears losing because of all this, he fears losing Cassie the most. The image of Cassie looking at him in disgust plays over and over in his mind. He can't bare the thought of her hating him, that is something he fears hell never recover from. Something scarred might lead to him hurting himself.

"Dad, please, just talk to me." This time sounded more desperate, almost like she was about to break down into tears. Johnny's heart feels like it's about to rip out of his chest and shatter on the ground. The way she sounds so distraught, he can't stand the idea of just leaving like this, like the way Sonya left him. With that he balls up his fist, takes a deep breath and turn back to the door. As much as he doesn't want to do it, he has to fave her, he has to resolve this for Cassie's sake. If she hates him afterwards then he'll just have to deal with it.

"Dad!" Cassie's sigh in relief as Johnny finally opens the door. Her eyes widen at the star her dad has been reduced to. "Hey kid." Johnny forced a smile onto his face despite this, if his relationship with his daughter is going to go down in flames he might as well go with the classic Cage charm. "Long no see, finally come to see your old man?" Cassie stared at her father, "What the hell, dad?" She snaps. Though more out of worry than anger. "You go missing for almost two whole months, block me and everyone else, delete your entire presence online, locked yourself in your house and leave everyone worried. Again I ask, what the hell? Do you have any idea how scared I was? I-I thought something might've happened to you, that you...that y-you did something to yourself. That I'd never see you again..." Cassie's angry voice dissolves one within the brink of sobbing. She has tried to keep herself together for the longest, to stay strong for him, for her mom, all her friends and fellow soldiers. But she can't take it anymore and breaks down. "I was so scared. E-every time you hung up I-I was scared that it would be the last time I'd ever speak to you. I know that you and mom splitting would be hard on you, but that doesn't mean you can just lock me out. Lock us all out. I just want to be there for you!" Her eyes darted from this way to that all over his face, hoping to get some reaction from him. Just something, anything. Anything that would make losing her cool and crying like a baby and not the soldier she is worth it.

"Cassie..." Johnny eventually lets it, his smile fades as the tears find their way out of his eyes. "Cassie, I'm so sorry." He says, an apology with a double meaning. He opens his arms and with hesitation, Cassie rushes into them, squeezing the life out of him. It has been so long since he held his daughter, the last time remembered doing such a thing was when she was a little girl. Back to simpler times, when he thought everything was perfect, that there wasn't a single this wrong. How he wishes he knew the truth about himself back then, then it would've been easier to let her go after she learns the truth about him.

"What happened between you and Kenshi? D-Did he do something to you?" She asks defensively with a sniffle. Johnny takes another deep in and out. "Cass, I think you need to sit down for what I'm about to tell you..."

Johnny sat his daughter down, he cleaned off her favorite part of the couch just for this moment. He couldn't sit her in the love seat cause that was just wrong after everything that transpired on it. Cassie sat down quickly, not wasting time to continue her questioning on what happened with him and Kenshi. Johnny gulped hard and balled his fist tighter. So tighter he swore his nails might've stuck into his skin and caused him to start bleeding. With one last deep breath, he tells her everything. The meeting, the chocolate, the tears, the hugging, the kissing, how much he like it, everything.

Cassie just stared at him as he talked, she gave a visible reaction as he spoke which frightened him. Her being silent could not be a good sign. Well, this is it. He thought, any moment now she'll react, he'll scream at him and storm out of the door and out of his life.He closes his eyes and folds his hands together, tiny drops of blood drops from one of his hands, but he couldn't feel bothered enough to notice.

Cassie finally reacts, but she doesn't flip out, she just starts laughing. As you can guess, this is much to Johnny's surprise. Where's the look of disgust? The insults? The judgment? All he gets is laughter. "Whats do funny?"

"I'm sorry, it's just..." She tried to explain, but she changed from a sobbing mess to a laughing mad woman. "I was so scared he did something to you. I thought you were seriously hurt. Well you were hurt to some instant. Th-thank god!" She forced through her delighted chuckles, taking Johnny by surprise.

"You don't hate me?" He said, making sure he understood what was happening. He was really confused right now. "Hate you for what? For not being straight? This isn't the 90s anymore." She said, her laughing fit finally calming down as she looked at her father with a loving gaze he thought he'd lose. He smiles, but cries still. "I-I thought you'd hate me." He said, the tears getting greater. Cassie stops laughing looks at her father, her expression serious again. "Dad...I don't hate you. I could never hate you... you're father and I'll always love you no matter your sexuality, o-or your gender or whatever the hell you identify as." She smiles at her father, she looks him the eyes to let him know how much she means it, how much she loves. Without hesitation, he pulls her into a hug.

Overwhelmed, Johnny's tears grow heavier. "How-" he was stopped by a sniffle as he tried to keep contr and not crumble into mess of tears. "How the hell did I manage to raise someone like you?' He gleamed through tears. "If it's any consolation, I have done pretty awesome parents. An accepting dad and an open-minded mom...now wash up and call him."

"What?"

Cassie picked up his phone and handed it to him, Kenshi's number pulled up so Johnny could call him. "Call him. Mom already moved on and is happy, it's time you be happy too."

---

"Hello?" Kenshi picked up the phone confused. Who would be calling him this time of night? "Hey, Ken" a voice boomed happily across the other end. "Johnny? What do you-"

"I want you to come over." Johny said in his usual cocky manner, his confidence seemingly returned and was stronger than ever. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No jokes. Just you, me, and some sexual tension finally being relieved."

Johnny couldn't see it, but he could tell that Kenshi was smiling on the other end. "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

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