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marvelouslizzie · 6 months

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Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard.

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order.

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features.

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right?

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him.

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved.

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down.

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious.

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.”

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that.

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?”

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck.

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

“That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you.

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess.

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too.

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

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navybrat817 · 3 months

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Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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nerdpoe · 7 months

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The Disappearance of Timothy Drake-Wayne, and how Watcher Mystery Files solved it in one episode.

Wrote it for a warm up, freaked out because I didn't know how to end it, copped out, wrote Omegaverse instead, finished another story, circled back to this one.

Anyways this was inspired by this post right here from @thebeeswantarson

it looks like this go reblog it

Alright here we go.

When the nosebleeds had started, Tim hadn’t really thought anything of it.

He’d waved away concerned friends and family, shoved tissues (and tampons, on one memorable occasion) up his nose, and gone about his day.

Then the migraines. Oh, the migraines.

After the increased migraines, increased stomach issues, and a few fainting spells that had even Bruce cornering him and demanding he see a doctor, Tim had acquiesced.

And the result after many CATscans and MRIs?

Nothing. No tumors, no signs of disease, normal bloodwork-nothing physical was wrong.

Nothing magical, either. He’d gone to some JLD members to ensure that.

After consulting with his small team of doctors, they finally managed to pinpoint what was driving his body to rebel against itself.

Stress.

Fucking stress.

Like some sort of swooning Victorian maiden, but with all the swooning and none of the cocaine.

So.

Tim had written email to his friends and family, sent them off, and proceeded to completely detach from the world around him in his most well-kept secret bunker.

Tim knew himself, and if he maintained contact with anyone then he’d inevitably go back to working on cases and undoing the de-stressing he was attempting.

He hadn’t been sure if it would work, or if the stress of not being able to connect to the others or work on cases would make things worse, but it had. Unorthodox, yes, but it worked! He’d relaxed and caught up on sleep!

But fully rested, and also more than a little bored, he knew it was time to get back into the swing of things.

Mournfully, Tim bid his state-of-the-art bunker goodbye and started going through the multiple airlocks to get outside.

The absolute second he stepped out, though, the air rippled and Kon was immediately there.

Kon looked…disheveled.

His hair was a wreck, he only had one sleeve of his jacket on, and…were those tear tracks?

Why was Kon crying?

Fuck, had the zombie apocalypse started while he’d been away?

Tim held out his hands in a calming motion, not breaking eye contact.

“It’ll be okay Kon; we can figure out what the cure is for the Zombie Plague.” Tim didn’t actually know if he could figure it out, but he didn’t want Kon to freak out anymore than he already was.

Tim’s hands were pushed aside in favor of being swept into an all-consuming hug, and-yup. Kon absolutely was crying into his shoulder.

Tim was officially concerned.

“Is Bart okay? Is Cassie okay? Kon, who’s hurt, what happened-“

“You, Rob. You’re okay. Shut up, I’m having a moment.”

Tim was even more confused, but that was alright; his brain started working without him.

Kon was crying, and emphasizing that Tim was okay. Kon had not realized that Tim was fine, ergo Kon had not received the email Tim had sent out.

Then Tim’s brain went Tim Big Brain.

Normally, a misconception like that would have been cleared up right away by someone else with correct information. But it hadn’t been cleared up at all, and Kon was never quiet about trying to save someone.

Thus, no one had known any different to what Kon had believed. No one had known to correct the misconception that he had found himself immersed in.

Therefore, the emails had not been sent out.

…

The…emails had not been sent out.

Oh fuck him the emails had not been sent out and he went on his merry way to an unlisted bunker with soundproofing for six fucking months.

“You were supposed to receive an email,” Tim muttered, horrified, as his arms wrapped around Kon as well.

Kon snorted wetly.

“Well I didn’t, and neither did anyone else.”

“Yeah, I kinda get that now. I’m in…so much trouble.”

Kon nodded into Tim’s shoulder, smearing snot and tears into his shirt. Tim didn’t even complain.

He was too busy realizing just how badly he was in for it.

~~~~~~

Bruce could feel the conversation he was trying to have begin to turn into another fight.

Dick was insisting that Ra’s Al Ghul had to be the one who had taken Tim, and had roped Damian in on it.

The problem was that there was no real concrete evidence that Ra’s had taken Tim, and Bruce refused to let them move in without intel on, at the very minimum, where Tim could have been taken.

Dick, naturally, was not happy with that answer.

Bruce, of course, refused to lose any more of his children. Especially if it was something he could have easily prevented.

“Father, if Grandfather has Drake it is only a matter of time before irreparable damage is done. We must move quickly.”

Bruce shook his head, standing more firmly in front of his oldest and youngest.

Dick looked ready to explode.

“Get out of the way, Bruce. I’m getting Tim.” Dick’s stance was tense, and his words moreso.

Bruce had no doubt this would devolve into a physical confrontation if he did not ed-escalate.

He opened his mouth to do just that when, with a shrill beeping sound, Oracle chimed in.

“Uh, guys? I think I just found Tim.”

Bruce felt something inside of himself relax, and didn’t bother to stop Dick and Damian as they charged past him to crowd the Batcomputer.

“Oracle, report; where is he?” Was he safe? Did he need help?

“About that…”

“Babs please!” Dick begged, knuckles white from where he gripped the console.

“He’s currently outrunning the paparazzi and a literal mob of Gothamites with phones.”

Bruce…had no idea how to respond to that.

Neither did Dick, apparently.

“They’re all livestreaming, so like; tracking him isn’t an issue,” Oracle supplied, like that made things make more sense.

The screen blinked, and four separate video feeds from random Gothamites showed Tim running from them at different angles.

“…Agent A, I believe it’d be best for you to pick him up.”

All eyes were on Tim; it would be weird if Batman swooped down to retrieve him.

~~~~~~

When Tim had Kon drop him off, he had been expecting maybe a second look or two when he stepped out of that alley.

What Kon may have neglected to mention, however, was that the disappearance of Timothy Drake-Wayne was all anyone had been talking about for four months. There were a lot of theories, but the most prevalent happened to be the most gruesome.

Popular theory one; Bruce Wayne murdered Timothy Drake-Wayne in cold blood after Timothy made a decision with Wayne Enterprises that infuriated the man.

Popular theory two; Timothy Drake-Wayne was being held for ransom, and Bruce Wayne was refusing to pay it. Effectively, it was the same as theory one but with more steps.

Popular theory three; Timothy Drake-Wayne had been captured by Gotham’s underbelly and sold into human trafficking.

And the fourth most popular theory; Timothy Drake-Wayne was abducted by aliens.

So when Tim stepped out of that alley, it wasn’t to an occasional second glance.

It was to excited whispers and impromptu livestreaming.

Naturally, Tim bolted.

He’d outrun one mob, only to run into another one. His face was all over the internet, he knew, and there was no way Barbara hadn’t caught on.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, really, and made the worst mistake he could have made at that particular point in time.

He ran in front of Wayne Enterprises.

There were two guys, presumably talking about his disappearance. One was average height, the other was tall, and both were clearly not from Gotham.

He heard tiny snatches of their conversation as he got closer, pinned the California accents, and shoved past them with a half shouted apology.

“Well would’ja lookit that, Ryan; looks like it just solved itself!”

“How?!”

Tim let them fall into the background and used his new bearings to beeline for Crime Alley.

After all, only idiots would follow someone into Crime Alley.

Unfortunately, after twenty minutes Tim was forced to admit that the general populace of Gotham probably wasn’t on the scale of normal he had been depending on.

They had indeed followed him all the way into Crime Alley.

So he tried to lose them even harder.

He shoved between muggers and their victims, blew through obvious drug deals, and jumped over the tables hosting poker games so intense that the players were fingering their weapons.

Still, the crowd followed him.

Tim took three quick turns, prepared to take a fourth, and was snatched out of the street and into an old building.

The hold was meant for restraint, and Tim couldn’t break out of it without making a lot of noise, which he really didn’t want to do.

Plus, he recognized the arms latched around him and keeping him in place.

“Thanks Hood,” Tim whisper-panted.

The arms got tighter.

“Kid, do you have any idea how many ops I blew searching for you?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Was absolutely convinced trafficker filth had gotten their hands on my kid brother,” Hood continued quietly, the mechanical rasp making his words deceptively collected, “So I went ahead and destroyed some of my only leads on the off chance that I’d find him.”

Tim felt himself start to break out in a cold sweat.

“So…you need help picking up your old trails?”

“’Help’ feels wrong. I’m owed it, Timmers.”

~~~~~~

‘Timothy Drake-Wayne Returns from the Dead!’

Tim thought that the newspapers were, quite possibly exaggerating just a little.

Just like his family was overreacting.

He was to wear at least four trackers at all times, he had to check in four times a day, he had to help Red Hood with picking back up the case load he’d all but set on fire in search of Tim, and he had to take Damian wherever their youngest wanted to go.

Apparently, the Little Demon had been so concerned that Ra’s Al Ghul had Tim that he’d started having nightmares.

And Tim wasn’t gonna lie, he felt beyond shitty for that. Well, that and everything else.

He’d also been forced to tell Bruce the location of every single one of his bunkers.

He’d sulk but…Tim also kind of felt like the worlds biggest asshole.

So.

He’d just…remember to actually hit send, not save, next time.

#batman #red robin #superboy #nightwing #red hood #watchers #ryan bergera #shane madej #brief cameo but it's there #fanfic #tim drake #kon-el #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne

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fanficsat12am · 8 months

Text

when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Lucifer & Mammon

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

Lucifer

He was Lucifer Morningstar, the picture of perfection. He had everything planned, everything taken care of, everything written down. He had to protect that perfect image and anything that dared to disturb it was met with a toothy snarl, a sharp glare, glowing ruby-red eyes, and a towering figure with the power to kill anything in just a second. No one had managed to see what was behind the curtains, nor had anyone really tried. No one except you.

He had been slaving away at his office for what felt like the nth night in a row. His usually kept demeanor was disheveled, posture stiff, shoulders tense, movements quick and emotionless, like that of a machine. You knew he couldn’t do anything about it. As Diavolo’s right-hand man, he had a plethora of work that needed to be finished—with even more to come the next day. That didn’t mean you could idly watch by the side though, unable to bear the thought of your significant other rotting away with each passing night.

You slowly moved closer toward the hunched man, each step more determined than the last. Even as you stood in front of him, he still had yet to acknowledge you. The distance made by the desk between you felt vast like it was a great wall barricading him from you. The only coherent thought in Lucifer's mind was the documents that were sprawled along the mahogany surface. “Lucifer…” you call out, the name falling on deaf ears. The scribbling of the pen continues to taunt you as you wait for a response. “My Love, you’ve been at it for days. Please rest” you plead, the previous attempts of getting him to rest slowly starting to weigh on you. You move closer, positioning yourself beside him. You take a gentle yet firm hold of the hand furiously writing on the parchment, halting it in its tracks. He briskly flicks your hand off with a grunt—as if your touch alone had burned him. The simple action took you aback. It was as if the demon infront of you was foreign. You knew to yourself this wasn’t your Lucifer.

You were unsure of what to do. Your once-firm determination had by this point waned, leaving you with little more than a desperate desire to pry him out of that chair. Whenever you were in need of comfort, his warm embrace would be there to hold your pieces together. Now, you were met with the crisp cold feeling of nothingness. It had been so long since you felt his touch, you didn’t realize how starved you were of it. Slowly, you envelop him in your hold. You needed him, you needed to know he was still there. He was just about to shove you away again when he heard your faint, trembling voice. “Please…stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting me,” you whispered, letting him go and instead cupping his face to make him finally look at you. “Just for tonight…don��t be Lucifer Morningstar” you beg, a stray tear finding its way out and falling down your cheek. You silently cursed yourself, knowing that crying will just add to the stressful plate he already had. But you couldn't help it. The dam you had tried to conceal had finally broken, pouring out every unshed tear you kept hidden from him.

As he sat and watched each crystalline tear roll down your face, he could feel his heart sink further and further down his stomach. Gazing into your eyes, he sees all the worry you’d been garnering all this time. All the hurt you had wasn’t for you, but for him—because of him. How could he have done this to you? You didn’t deserve this. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t perfect. Nothing was, not until your beautiful smile had returned. He wasn't aware of when he had begun to cry, only noticing once were wiping it away with the pads of your thumb. What did he ever do to deserve you? Even in your time of despair, all you cared about was him. He gently brought his hand to your face, wiping away as much of your tears as he could while kissing away those that followed. “For you, I’d do it every waking hour” he replied.

As he carried you to the comfort of his bed, his mind had yet to cease its punishment on him. He felt disgusted with himself. The mere thought of you having to see him in such a state, to have you think you needed to beg for him to come back to you when in reality it was he who should be pleading for you to stay. He couldn’t stand it. Pressing a tender kiss to your temple, he makes a silent promise to be better for you. You didn’t need a perfect boyfriend, because he knew that in your eyes he was already enough.

Mammon

“Psh. How stupid can ya be?”

Push. That’s all he knew to do. But how much could he push until you fall off the edge? How long would you hold on until you’d finally had enough? As he stared at your sleeping figure, he was afraid he’d found the answer.

“I don’t need ya. Not now not ever”

He wanted to take it all back, to slap some sense to his past self, to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. But the damage had been done. The seed of doubt had already been planted. To make matters worse, he had yet to apologize, letting the seed take root and grow into something sick and twisted. All he could think to do was to silently lay down next to you for what might be the last time. It was greedy of him, but he had to at least savor each remaining moment he could cling to. As he places himself inches away from you, the repercussions of his actions were now on full display. He quickly noticed the dried tear marks across your cheeks, your usually bright eyes now puffy and swollen, and how a deep breath would interrupt the steady rise and fall of your chest. He could feel as his heart clenched in guilt, the words he’d carelessly thrown at you now seemingly forming a huge lump in his throat. He wanted to pull you close, to hold and shield you from the other dangers of the world. But he knew he couldn't, not when he himself was what he needed to protect you from.

“Know your place, Human”

With a shaking hand, he places his palm on your cheek and attempts to wipe away the tears he was meant to wipe a long time ago. You’re gently woken up by the feeling of his touch, still a bit tired after your crying session. Although your mind was hazy, you could easily see the absolute regret Mammon had as he gingerly wiped away at your face. He refused to meet your eyes, afraid to see the hatred awaiting in those orbs that once held so much love for him. But he couldn’t resist. He needed you to know that the next words he was about to say were his, that it came from the deepest part of his heart. Shifting his gaze to finally look at you, the apology he had prepared quickly died down on his tongue. Even at your state, you still cease to leave him breathless. But he knew he had to say something. Anything. Please, just do something.

“I’m sorry” he whispered. It was pathetic, he knew. There was so much he wanted to say, but…this was the most important one. He watched as you placed your hand over his and softly kissed his palm with the most love he had ever felt, nuzzling closer into his touch. Tears brimmed his eyes, blurring his vision with each second that passed by. The hand that used to be by your cheek was now entangled in your hair, while the other had wrapped around your waist—both drawing you closer to his embrace. That night he held you tighter as if you were sand about to slip through his fingers. He doesn't know what to do to make it up to you, but for now, he focuses on holding you, relishing the warmth that his stupid mouth had almost cost him. He would let anyone from the three realms take everything he had if it meant he could keep you. Anything but you. You were his MC, and your place was here in his arms.

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deanstead · 9 months

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Home

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Jay notices something is wrong with Y/N's mood over the phone

Word Count: 1.5K+

Tags/Warnings: mentions of (workplace) harassment

A/N: I know I haven't written in months so starting off slow/small to see if maybe I haven't lost my touch... also @halsteadlover may have threatened me to post this.

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

You glanced at the last message Jay had sent you a few hours earlier and smiled.

You got this.

Three simple words that somehow warmed your heart even though you were miles away in another city.

You rarely had to travel for work even though you’d worked as a translator at this company for some time. You mostly dealt with inbound foreign clients who came to Chicago but this time, they’d needed a translator for a conference outside Chicago and you were the only available one. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far so you didn’t even have to take a flight and the company had arranged for a car for you to get there.

Which was all too well, since Jay had also had his hands full and had to go undercover for a few days.

So it was even more heartwarming to see the message from Jay when you hadn’t really been expecting a reply.

Even though you had only seen the message after the conference, it still felt comforting to feel the last dredges of work nerves and anxiety leave your system.

“Y/N, come on.” One of your colleagues from another team called out to you and you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, before following her toward the private room of the restaurant where you were all supposed to be having dinner with a huge client.

You didn’t even like having social dinners with people you weren’t close with, not to mention dinners like this.

Dinner had barely started when you were proven right.

“Thanks to your team, the conference went very well.” The client smiled, looking around. “Of course, we have to thank Y/N for ensuring all communication went smoothly.”

You’d just smiled when you felt his hand slide onto yours from under the table and the smile froze on your face.

Instinctively, you pulled your hand away, bringing your hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and grabbing your jacket from behind you and draping it around you, smiling.

“Just doing my job, Mr. Saunders.”

You saw the look on his face and knew he’d taken offense, ridiculous as it was.

You chose to ignore it, pretending like nothing had happened. After all, he’d probably have gotten the hint.

He hadn’t.

The client made a few more passes at you - a hand on your knee, trying to take your hand again, and the most outrageous one was holding up food to feed you in front of everyone.

The action wasn’t lost on everyone who was there but no one spoke up.

You swallowed. “I’ll help myself.”

It was like something snapped in him and he glanced at you coldly and said, “Guess if you’re not hungry, you should go out and wait for everyone to finish.”

You glanced helplessly at your team manager who gave you a look to ask you not to make things worse than they already were.

You gritted your teeth but bit back any sort of response, getting up and leaving the room, a mix of anxiety, humiliation, self-doubt, and every other negative emotion swirling in the pit of your stomach.

Jay sighed, stretching as he sat up from the couch.

The apartment was uncharacteristically quiet since you were away for work.

Jay looked up at the clock. It was slightly past 10 which was weird because he hadn’t heard back from you.

Getting up to get himself a glass of water, Jay glanced at his messages before he decided he’d try and call. Even if you were still with your colleagues, you could probably still answer the phone since the conference was over.

There were two rings before you answered.

“Hey, still having fun with your colleagues?”

There was a slight pause before you answered.

“Jay.”

Jay frowned, immediately picking up on the fact that something was wrong.

“Y/N? What’s going on? You okay?”

Jay’s voice was gentle and so comforting, you felt the prick of tears again.

You cleared your throat. Honestly, crying on the street in the middle of the night was the last thing you wanted to do. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?” Jay’s worried voice sounded through the phone.

You smiled to yourself even as a tear escaped and slid down your cheek.

“Yeah, told you there was good food waiting for me after the conference.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jay pressed.

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m fine. I just… miss you.” You managed to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll come and get you,” Jay answered.

“Jay, it’s late and you probably haven’t had enough sleep for the past few days. I’ll take the earliest bus out to Chicago tomorrow.”

You heard the reluctance in his voice even though he agreed and after reassuring him not to worry, you hung up.

The wind felt even colder now as you sat by the side of the road, your carrier bag sitting next to you.

Technically you had another night at the hotel but you hadn’t felt like staying there for even a second longer. Other than the fact that the client knew exactly which room you were in, your team manager had left a message for you berating you for how you’d handled the situation which made you even more disgusted than you already were.

You didn’t know how long you sat there but as you felt it turn colder you thought you should get up and maybe find somewhere else to sit for the night. You didn’t care if you had to sit up all night at a 24-hour cafe but you weren’t going back to the hotel.

You’d barely gotten to your feet, reaching for your carrier when a familiar truck pulled up right before you.

You froze, as Jay appeared right before you like magic.

“Jay… you…”

Jay’s green eyes appeared even brighter than usual as he looked at you with a mix of exasperation and worry. “I came to take you home.”

You’d clearly been sitting out here for longer than you thought, but it didn't matter because when Jay finished speaking you felt the tears well up in your eyes as the security that Jay always made you feel flooded through your entire body and finally gave you enough courage to cry.

Jay stepped forward, wordlessly enveloping you into his arms.

You dissolved into sobs as you felt his arms around you and he pressed you gently into his embrace, his hand over the back of your head protectively. Jay didn’t say anything, just standing there quietly with you in his arms until your sobs gently died down.

"I…”

Jay pressed his lips against your temple and whispered, “Let’s go home.”

Jay didn’t ask you anything on the way home, and you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew Jay was pulling into the parking lot in front of your building and your stomach gave a tiny rumble as Jay killed the engine.

You glanced at him and Jay just let out a chuckle.

“Come on, I’ll order us a pizza and you can get comfortable.”

By the time you got out of the shower, the pizza was here and you got comfortable on the sofa as Jay handed you a slice and curled in next to you.

You didn’t say anything and Jay didn’t push you as you finished your first slice before you glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice.

Jay raised an eyebrow.

“You must be exhausted.” You added.

There was a silence which made you look up and you felt the rare surge of insecurity from not being able to read the look on Jay’s face.

“Did you think I’d be able to go to sleep when I could hear how upset you were?” Jay said quietly. “Y/N, listen. You don’t have to worry about asking me to go out of my way for you. In fact, if it was possible, I hope you’d always do it. I’d go to the moon and back for you if you needed me to.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes again, this time from an overwhelming feeling of being loved by someone.

Jay just quietly pressed his lips against your temple.

You leaned into him, the rest of the pizza slices forgotten on the table.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

You bit your lip, sitting up a little before you recounted what had happened that night as vaguely as possible, with bare details.

Even so, you could literally hear Jay grinding his teeth beside you.

You glanced at him. “Jay.”

“I’ll kill him. I will literally break his hands.”

You snuggled back into his side. “No, you won’t.” You mumbled. “But I needed to hear that.”

Jay sighed and pulled you tighter against him. “You did the right thing, you know that right? No matter what anyone says.”

You nodded without looking up and Jay patted the back of your head gently, ruffling your hair gently in the process.

You leaned deeper into Jay’s embrace before turning your head up gently to glance at him.

Jay smiled and leaned down to press his lips gently against yours. The negative feelings of the entire night were long gone because you were right where you belonged - home with Jay.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

#resa.fics #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Text

Chapter 21 - Collision of Worlds

feels like forever since I've updated and I am so sorry for that. I had so many projects but thankfully I passed them all! So little celebration chapter!

I added a bunch of past ideas from you readers as you wanted to see a few more things before the work wraps up (like media day and one of the incorrect quotes from that chapter).

Happy news is that Chapter 22 is already done and written as well so that will be out soon as well!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, messages to my inbox, reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

Please enjoy!

Wednesday Afternoon:

You were hunched over laughing as you saw Max walk into the Paddock on Wednesday afternoon. The blond wig was definitely not on correctly, but no one seemed to care as cameras flashed on his figure. A shy grin was displayed on his face as he walked closer.

“Happy media day?” he questioned as he met up with you.

You took one more look and started to wheeze, which in return made him laugh as well – almost making the wig fall off.

“Trying to look like the better Red Bull driver?” you asked, pulling at the blond strands. Max quickly took it off.

He let out a dry laugh, before speaking in a sarcastic tone. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“What are we even doing today?” you managed to ask through your giggles.

Max looked around with a questioning look. “Christian told me that we’re have a driving competition.”

Speaking of, Christian suddenly appeared with a team of videographers and other employees. Two of them behind him were pulling contraptions that made you start to laugh even harder.

Somehow, they had gotten their hands on two children’s cars and had painted them in the RB colors. You walked over, slapped the plastic, and started to laugh harder once again. Max could only giggle watching you lose it over something so simple. But, then he guesses that you might not have had a smaller toy car as a kid.

Max stood next to his. He was lucky that his car was opened roofed or he would have never fit inside.

The media worker spoke up once the two of you stood next to the respective cars.

“The game is simple. Just a lap around to that tree.”

He pointed at a tree in the distance. Thankfully the entire way there was paved. Well, you were racing in the paddock.

“The bottom of the cars are cut out so you’ll have to use your feet to get going.”

You gave Max a smirk before sticking one foot in and then the other. It was a tight squeeze, but you weren’t one of the shortest drivers for nothing. You were thankful the floor was cut out or your head would be in between your knees. You looked over at Max and lost it once again.

You couldn’t even see his body, just his head sticking out the open top. You leaned your head against the mini wheel.

Max lifted his hand and called out, “Can I have a head start since she can’t stop laughing?”

You looked over at him. “Be quiet. Not my fault you look like a giraffe.”

Christian was the one to tell you two to go, and it was on. Since you were smaller, your feet had more room to move back and forth. But, you sadly wore sandals for media day, and they didn’t have much traction.

Whereas Max had little room to move his feet, but his tennis shoes were much more grabby on the concrete.

You were able to take the inside of the tree while Max had to go far around the outside. Coming out of the turn, you went a bit wide to cut him off and bumped his car. Max bumped you back and you retaliated with a bigger bump as the finish line was approaching. Well, you never looked back and missed that his car tilted over, with him still in it.

Once you crossed the finish line, you got out and finally turned to see him still knocked over. You crouched as you began to wheeze once again. Christian had to go over to him and set the Dutchman upright.

The video people swarmed around Max once he got out.

One of the men smirked as he pointed a microphone at Max.

“Max, what happened with the race?”

Max looked over at you still hunched over and smirked.

“Ah it’s so unfair. I’m leading, she pushed me, I push her back, and after she pushed me off the track. It’s unfair?”

Everyone around him was giggling into their hands at his statement. Even before you had bumped him, Charles had somehow gotten close to watch it. He was also hunched over with hands on his knees, laughing his ass off.

You had stood upright and were wiping off tears from your eyes. The man who “interviewed” Max had come over to you as you stepped closer.

“Y/n what happened with Max?”

You quickly pulled your hair over your eyes a bit before speaking.

“Nothing. It was just an inchident…on the race.”

That did it and everyone started to laugh out loud.

Now it was time for Charles to walk over to the duo. He had somehow gotten a hold of the blond wig as well, and it was sitting on his head.

You looked over and tried to compose yourself. “Why is everyone trying to be me today?”

Charles had a sassy look on his face. “Well, if you can be me – I can be you.”

Your eyebrows raised before you yanked the wig off.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing just an inchident...

tagged: maxverstappen1, y/n.89, and charles_leclerc

liked by redbullusa, landonorris, box_box_express, and 205,204 others

y/n.nation the entire video had me rolling

lestappenlove not y/n pulling out "the inchident" - had me in stitches

y/n.89 I wanna know why everyone was trying to be me today, obviously I'm the best blond here

maxverstappen1 do you not see the pictures? I'm pretty sure I look best charles_leclerc back away peasants, we all know who looks best here landonorris I hope you're not meaning you and your ramen noodle hair

formula1fan where did Red Bull even get the cars (are they available for purchase?)

redbullcan no fr I want one

best_rookie89 Silverstone always brings out the best in everyone

Thankfully after that you were done with any games. Yet, to yours and Max’s chagrin, you had lots of interviews to go to.

Max gave you a thankful look when you took the podcast while he took the live interview. You knew that he really did have a distain for podcasts. You made him promise though that he’d bring you a can of Red Bull after you were done. It was easy enough.

You were led to a small room with the host already sat down. He stood when you entered and shook your hand.

“I’m so glad that we’re able to do this today. My name is Sam and I’ll be asking you a few questions today,” his British accent rang out. It was a nice comfort as it was the Silverstone Grand Prix this weekend.

You sat down and put the headphones on.

Sam pulled out a few note cards and then did the intro.

“Hey everyone, it’s Sam back with the ‘Stay In The Box-Box Podcast’ and I am graciously joined by who everyone is dubbing the greatest rookie to every enter Formula 1, Y/n L/n.”

He gave you a cue to speak into the mic.

“Hello everyone! I’m glad to be here today!”

The questions were simple enough. How has Red Bull been treating you? What are your aspirations for the team? What is it like having Max Verstappen as a teammate? And so on.

A question though, caught you by surprise.

“I know that you, along with anyone who watches F1, have been waiting for your first win. What track would you love to win at and why?’

You thought for a moment before you gave an answer.

“Well, to be honest, I’d be happy with anything. But, if I had to pick anything, I’d go with Monza or Las Vegas.”

Sam leaned into his mic. “Wow, the home of the Tifosi. You really have your ambitions.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t everyone? Winning at Monza, especially winning in my godfather’s country, would be a privilege. I know that Ferrari fans would love to see Charles or Carlos win there, but that track seems to be an open door for a lot of racers. Take Pierre for example. Monza was his first race win. Daniel won there in his first year at McLaren and gave Zac Brown his first win as a Team Principle.”

You took a sip of the water that they had given you.

“And then you go back to Charles who won his second ever race there, earning him the nickname of Il Predestinato. It seems to be a track that likes the underdogs. It’s fast and relatively shorter. They don’t call it the Temple of Speed for nothing. It’s a track that you have to earn respect for.”

Sam looked genuinely happy with your answer, and moved on to the second track you mentioned.

“Ah Vegas. I don’t know. There I drove the RB19 for the first time and was introduced as part of the Red Bull family there. It would be like a homecoming for me if I was able to win there. And it’s Vegas, who wouldn’t want to win. I know that Danny would be sad to lose.”

Sam nodded, taking your answers in. There were a few more questions before he announced a game – guess that tune.

The first tune came and you immediately pressed the button.

You leaned into the mic. “August by Taylor Swift.”

A ding sounded, letting you know you got it right.

The next was also almost immediate.

“Monaco by Bad Bunny.”

A few of the songs you didn’t know, but most of them were immediate.

You shrugged when Sam asked how you knew so many. The answer was simple.

“I listen to a lot of genres and I’m chronically on TikTok. Other than like hard rock or heavy metal, I’ll listen to it.”

A few more sounded.

“As it Was by Harry Styles.”

“In the Kitchen by Rene Rap.”

“Feather by Sabrina Carpenter.”

“Beautiful Things by Benson Boone.”

The last song, you knew it but didn’t know the artist.

Your eyebrow raised. “I know it’s the credit song from Cars 2. Uhhhhh, Collision of Worlds?”

Sam smirked at your hesitation. “Do you know who it is by?”

You shook your head.

“It’s by Brad Paisley and Robbie Williams.”

You threw your hands up before pointing at Sam. “I’ve been trying to tell Logan that it is legit the song that perfectly sums up his and Oscar’s friendship.”

Sam leaned back for one more question.

“Who do you think will win this weekend?”

Your head tilted.

“Lando Norris. The McLaren’s have been super-fast the past couple of races. I have a feeling about this one. Place your bets now, Lando is going to get pole.”

“Thank you so much for your time today.” Sam stood up to shake your hand. He also gave you some sheet of papers. You thought they were just pre-scripted questions for captions.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing ah, nothing like finishing media day with a can from our stocked fridge

liked by stayinthe_boxboxpod, redbullcan, y/n.nation, and 248,029 others

y/n_updates the middle is a live picture from inside y/n's house. girl was drinking it like water before she even signed

verSTOPpen max looked so uncomfortable, glad he didn't get signed to the podcast lol

maxmaxmax_super he always looks miserable on media day

y/n.89 how did a picture of my apartment get in here?

arthur_leclerc and where is your water? y/n.89 no comment.

stayinthe_boxboxpod it was lovely having you on the show! hope that our notes are sufficient :)

y/nxarthur did the host know that she's a TAKEN woman yn/&co I know right? she honestly looked uncomfy when the dude wouldn't take a hint

silverstonecircuit see you all on sunday!

You shook his hand and left to meet up with Max, who was waiting for you in the garage with two cans of Red Bull. You graciously took one and snapped the can open. Max took the papers from you and looked through them.

“What are these?” he questioned.

You shrugged, not fully involved in the conversation as you had your phone out, texting Arthur who couldn’t make it this race.

Max suddenly started laughing, making you look at him.

“What is it?”

He turned the papers around. There, on the top of the second page was a phone number with a note and badly drawn winky face. The note said, “Call me if you need a break from your ‘boyfriend’.”

Your mouth was wide open as Max kept laughing. You grumbled to yourself as you plucked that note from the stack and walked into Christian’s office, not knowing that Toto was in there for a meeting.

You didn’t even look at the two bewildered men as you looked around the floor.

“Where’s your paper shredder?” you questioned, walking around to the back of his desk.

Christian gulped before answering, “To the left.”

A soft ‘ah’ left your lips as you finally found it. It left out a weird noise as you booted it up, still completely oblivious to the other team principal in the room.

You had a fire in your eyes as you watched the number be ripped to shreds by the machine. You would have let out an evil laugh, but you didn’t want to bother Christian more than you already were (even though you completely missed that he was in a meeting).

Once you were done, you stood up and left. As you walked out the door you simply said, “Thanks dad,” and shut the door.

Only when the door shut completely, you realized what you had said. Your cheeks heated as you quickly walked back to Max.

Behind the door, Toto was staring straight at the Briton. Christian had a shocked face as Toto smirked at him.

Christian breathed out. “Wouldn’t be the first time a driver to do that.”

“Tell me about it. George just started.”

“I need to tell Geri.”

Your face was buried in Max’s chest as you poured out your sorrows to him. He smirked as he rubbed your back, knowing that he’s done the same multiple times before.

“And I called him dad.”

Toto had left and Christian was talking to Geri.

“And she called me dad!”

y/n.jpg has posted

y/n.jpg his

liked by kellypiquet, francisca.gomez, arthur_leclerc, and 403,295 others

ynsfav UHHHHHHHHH HELLO??? NOT A GOOD MORNING??

y/n&co baby girl has to show that she's taken

rookies_secretbf I bet he makes her feel so good

olliebearman mom, there are children on this app btw

y/n.jpg sorry son, but boys need to know that mom has a man

maxverstappen1 I would say take it down

y/n.jpg but? maxverstappen1 GAGGED HIM (did I do it right?) y/n.jpg perfect

francisca.gomez hot

y/n.jpg learned it all from you

y/n.nation that middle picture tho

Sunday Afternoon:

You basically tried to ignore Christian for the rest of the weekend, but he eventually pulled you to the side to talk to you.

“Kid, I couldn’t count the amount of times that Max has called me dad on my two hands and feet. I’m more than fine with it.”

“Promise?” you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. He gave you a kiss on your forehead (in place of Arthur because he knew you missed him).

“I promise. Not get in your car. It’s race time.”

Starting Grid:

Lando Norris

Max Verstappen

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Carlos Sainz

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Pierre Gasly

George Russell

Daniel Ricciardo

Fernando Alonso

Yuki Tsunoda

Alex Albon

Esteban Ocon

Logan Sargeant

Valtteri Bottas

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

Zhou Guanyu

Lance Stroll

Turns out Lando did get pole and you and Max were basically a McLaren sandwich. You knew that every move had to be strategically done. The McLarens were on another level. And with Oscar’s defensive moves and Lando’s overtaking skills, you and Max were in a pickle.

Throughout the race, it was like a dance. You’d be overtaken, or Max would overtake – and then you’d switch. Along the way, someone spun out, scrunching everyone up during a safety car.

You were on fresh tyres while Max went in to pit.

Mitch came over your radio. “So they’re cleaning up the mess that is Daniel Ricciardo and Logan Sargeant. You’re on new tyres and ahead of Max. Keep position.”

“There’s only like 10 laps left right? Do you think I could get around Lando?”

“Negative. We’re just going for a 2-3. This is plan 2-1.”

Your heart raced at the thought of having a pit of priority over Max.

David Croft voiced his opinions.

“Looks like Red Bull has given their drivers the 2-1 plan with rookie Y/n L/n having priority for a P2 position. In just under 10 laps left, Max Verstappen needs to gain 2 positions to be on the podium. And there goes the safety car with just 10 laps to go.”

You kept your head straight as you defended against Oscar. Max had Charles to go around and then the Australian.

Lando was slowly pulling away from you, so you needed to keep pressing. It wasn’t the photo finish like in Austria, but it was close.

“AFTER 5 SEASONS, 2 POLE POSITIONS, 6 FASTEST LAPS, 13 PODIUMS, 633 CARRIER POINTS, LANDO NORRIS IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 BRITISH GRAND PRIX. WITH FASTEST LAP AND POLE POSITION, HE MAKES IT A GRAND SLAM AT HIS HOME RACE. HE’S SHOWING MCLAREN THAT THEY DID THE RIGHT THING BY KEEPING HIM AND PUTTING TIME INTO HIS CARRIER.

Y/n L/n comes in with her 8th podium finish of the season. Max Verstappen follows her in to make it a Red Bull 2-3 and completes the podium for Silverstone 2024.”

Race Results

Lando Norris – 26 points (+fastest lap)

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Max Verstappen - 15 points

Oscar Piastri – 12 points

Charles Leclerc – 10 points

Lewis Hamilton – 8 points

Carlos Sainz – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

George Russell – 2 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Yuki Tsunoda

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Pierre Gasly

Nico Hulkenberg

Fernando Alonso

Lance Stoll

Esteban Ocon

Daniel Ricciardo – DNF

Logan Sargeant – DNF

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 259 points

Charles Leclerc – 212

Lando Norris – 181 points

Y/n L/n – 142 points

Carlos Sainz – 97 points

Oscar Piastri – 80 points

Lewis Hamilton – 79 points

Alex Albon – 43 points

George Russell – 38 points

Fernando Alonso – 35 points

Logan Sargeant – 29 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 401 points

Ferrari – 309 points

McLaren – 261 points

Mercedes – 117 points

Williams – 66 points

Aston Martin – 50 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo – 1 point

HAAS – 0 points

You watched as Lando climbed out of his car and just stood on the nose, hands outstretched and pointing at the crowds. Your eye caught the Union Jack and you raced over to grab it. You lifted it high as you tapped Lando’s leg before handing it to him. You could see his blue-green eyes lighten up at the prospect of waving his country’s flag.

You took a couple of steps back and went to congratulate your own teammate.

Your hands met in a clasp.

“Glad to see you made it to the party.” You grinned as you slid your helmet off. Max followed in suit.

The Dutch driver’s hands started to wave around. “Yeah. Didn’t think I had it but then Oscar left just the right amount of space,” his fingers nearly pinched together. Your head leaded back as you laughed.

Max watched as Lando jumped into the arms of the McLaren team but then watched you watched them as well. He nudged your shoulder.

“It’ll be you soon enough.” He heard a huff, but he knew you were listening.

You took one last look at Lando before heading to the cool down room. Your water bottle was immediately in your hand and brought to your mouth. Lando and Max walked in a few moments later. You gave Lando a side hug as he stood next to you.

Whispering, you told him, “You drove so well today. Knew you could do it.”

“Thanks bug.”

When the three of you were called to go to the podium, Max told the Briton, “I’ll try not to break your trophy.”

Lando’s head leaded back as he let out a groan.

“It was one time! One time Max!”

landonorris has posted

landonorris words cannot express the feelings that I have right now. I've been waiting for this moment to arrive and I never thought that it would be at my home race of all places. thank you to the team and to Oscar who held off two of the strongest drivers I have ever raced against. and thank you max for not breaking my trophy

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 703,204 others

lnfour THAT'S OUR BOY

mclarenfan silverstone 2024 winners merch when??

lanno_norris I knew this day would come!!

lando.norizz lando win before gta 6 and before the next ferrari champion ferrari&mclaren_fan that was harsh bro

carlossainz55 congrats cabron, sorry I couldn't be up there with you

carlando MY CARLANDO HEART CANT TAKE THIS STOP

y/n.89 great job lanno! so so proud of you :D

landonorris thanks bug

lewishamilton congrats mate!

lanoscar I needed this today

redbullracing has posted *guys pretend that the third picture is reader ok???*

redbullracing from past to present, lando has been there. congrats landonorris - we'll get you next time

liked by y/n.89, mclaren, papaya_fan, bothshades_oforange, and 503,204 others

redbullcan stop stop stop not a post making me sob

y/n.nation no way that is y/n - look how much younger she is

y/n_on_top what the heck? she knew lando??

redbull+mclaren what in the? my favs on the podium and they all were connected some how??

y/nand_taylor some might say...invisible string? y/nxarthur yeah he is not the boyfriend, but keep dreaming tho :D

y/n.89 ohhhh so you're the one that spooked my horse

landonorris so you're the one that hit me coming off the elevator y/n.89 I plead the fifth maxverstappen1 he just needs to admit that he's our biggest fan

bestrookie89 this weekend was a whirlwind - what even

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

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saltandburnheathens · 1 month

Text

Good morning Miss Winnie.

Part II

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

You've just given birth to Dean's baby and are a enjoying a quiet family moment in the days afterwards.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

The bunker was quiet first thing in the morning except for the usual hum of the circulation fans. You’d been there so long that they barely registered anymore, and you were extremely thankful that the consistent noise wasn’t a problem for the baby. That would have been a horror show. Trying to navigate parenthood with a baby awoken by the simplest of sounds.

You shuddered at the thought.

Life was always loud when you lived with Dean Winchester and his posse of colour characters. Between unexpected visitors and the brothers coming and going at odd hours, there was something new every day and often that new wasn’t good.

But in that moment things were perfect. The monsters outside didn’t exist and you were a regular mom with a new baby and a husband who loved you. His bother Sam and best friend Castiel were an added bonus, the former serving as an unexpected asset when both you and Dean needed some rest.

You crept carefully out of bed, your body still feeling weak, and quietly crossed to the crib by the wall. A set of hazel eyes stared up at you and your heart melted.

“Good morning Miss Winnie.” You cooed, “Let’s get you up and at ‘em before you wake daddy.”

You heard a small scoff followed by the shuffling of blankets.

“Winnie?” Dean asked with a sleep-laden voice, “We ain’t calling her Winnie, sweetheart. I’ll accept those new-agey-hippy-names like Kendell and Kloe with a K before I’ll take Winnie.”

“I’m just calling her that until we choose a name.” You laughed, lifting the little girl up into your arms, her head coming to rest on your chest, “And Winnie is short for Winchester in case you hadn’t pieced that together.”

“I don’t care if it’s short for ‘daddy’s-little-angel’, it ain’t happening.”

“I’ll cross that off my list then shall I?” You sat back on the bed, Dean coming up to nest beside you and his eyes immediately going to the baby in your arms.

He smiled, creases forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re not a Winnie, are ya’ princess?” In that voice he seemed to only have adapted five days ago after the birth of your daughter; that voice reserved for her.

“Maybe not. What about Meghan?” You suggest.

“Oh nope. No can do. Knew a Meg once. Demon.”

You nodded knowingly. No one wanted to name their child after a monster.

“Stevie?” Dean carried on, his eyes still fixed on the baby.

“Like Stevie Nicks?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not seeing it. Samatha?”

“Already got one Sam in this bunker and that’s more than enough. Alice?”

“Can’t do it. All I’ll keep hearing is ‘who the fuck is Alice’, and I don’t want my kid to be subjected to that for the rest of their life.”

You both laughed, interrupted only by the whine building in the little one’s chest. You quickly jumped to action and proceeded to the morning routine you’d been adjusting to since getting back home. Dean followed you, rubbing at his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve had hangovers that made me feel quite as bad as waking up five times at night.” He yawned.

You handed him a dirty diaper and smiled as he grimaced.

“You can go back to bed if you want. I can manage by myself.”

“Sweetheart, you just damn near broke your pelvis giving birth to my kid a few days ago. I’m in this from start to finish, and if that means running on caffeine and a prayer, then I’m game. Even for the diapers.”

Dean rummaged through the first drawer of their dresser and pulled out a small onesie covered in colourful dinosaurs. He held it up in front of him and smiled.

“It’s hard to believe how small she is, huh?”

“She didn’t feel so small coming out of me.” You quipped, taking the clothing from him to finally cover the squirming child on the changer, “I’m pretty sure my vagina will never be the same.”

“That’s blasphemy.” Dean gasped playfully, “But seriously, baby, the doctor said that it’ll take a few weeks before you start to feel normal.”

“Normal is subjective when you’re postpartum.”

Holding his baby tight to his chest, Dean lent down and kissed you softly on the lips. His green eyes fluttered up to meet yours.

“Let’s face it, ain’t nothing normal about either of us in the first place.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dad!dean winchester #dad!dean

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milla-frenchy · 8 days

Text

The hounds of hell 2

Written with @aurorawritestoescape

4k2 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy | ao3 Summary: when you get reminded of the night you spent with Steve and Javi, you can’t help but come for more Warnings: 18+ mdni. semi public sex, masturbation (f/m), oral (f/m), threesome, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, degradation, piv, cum eating, creampies. No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to the boyd-a-thon event for PCRF @toxicanonymity 🖤🐨

Kate's masterlist | My masterlist Part 1 | series masterlist

***********

For several days, you wondered what exactly had happened that night. You had fragments of memories, you knew they had fucked you, but without remembering all the details.

Part of you resented them for manipulating you, making you feel like you could trust them. Another part thought that you had been way too naive. And the last part made you touch yourself every single night, thinking of them.

A few weeks later, you finally went back to that bar, even if you didn’t know how you would react if you saw them. But they weren't there that night, nor the other ones. So you danced, drank, met people, other men. You had sex with some of them, but never got the thrill you’d felt that night, never had the thought that had struck you the next day -“it was the best fucking of my life.”

It was Saturday night and you were dancing, twirling, enjoying yourself in a crowd of people. Two hands rested on your hips, and you froze when you heard “hey, baby”, soft lips against your ear. You turned around, and faced Steve’s blue eyes, his self-confident smile, his blonde hair. It was slightly longer than the last time, messier.

“Don’t call me that, and fuck off.” The lack of memories of that night instantly made you act in a bitter and defensive way.

He pulled back and raised his hands, as if to say “ok, whatever you want.”

You contemplated leaving, but you convinced yourself that you didn’t have to. He could go if he wanted, but you’d stay. You bottomed a shot at the bar and then danced again. He seemed to have left. Later, you went into the bathroom, and as the door was closing, Steve slipped in and locked it.

“What the fuck?”

You barely had time to finish your sentence when he approached you, smiling. Not a mean or provocative smile. A smile that meant “I know you want it.” Fuck, did you want it? He already managed to make you doubt yourself.

His hands were on your hips and he tried to kiss you. You turned your head to the side, swerving him, and said “No, stop.” He looked at you and gave you that smile again. He had so much self confidence that it was indecent. He kissed your cheek, then moved down to your neck that he covered with soft, hot kisses, making your eyes roll back.

“Come on, baby, let me kiss you.”

He moved back up to your lips and just before kissing you, he looked deep in your eyes for a few seconds. You got lost in his gaze. When he pressed his lips to yours, you felt almost all your doubts disappear and you stopped pushing him away. His tongue was already brushing against your lips, as if he was asking for permission to slide it in. You didn't keep him waiting long. In a moment, your tongue was swirling against his. He moaned into your mouth, and you felt yourself gush. His hands shifted from your cheeks, to your breasts, then your hips. They brushed against your body, your dress, and you couldn't help but roll your hips towards him.

“Yeah…You want this cock, beautiful? Just like that night?”, he said, his forehead pressed against yours, so close that you could smell his minty breath.

“No…no, I don’t. Can’t even remember what you two had done to me.”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, staring at you with narrowed eyes. You shook your head.

“Lemme help you”, he smirked and slipped his hand between your thighs, pulled up your dress and caressed your folds through your panties.

“Damn…seems like your cunt ain’t forgot, baby…she’s already soaked.”

He kneeled and pulled down your panties, looking at your pussy for a few seconds before glancing up at you. You bit your lower lip, waiting for him to place his lips on you, there, in this dark bathroom. But he smiled and stood up, covered his thumb with your slick, and brought it to your clit. He rubbed it gently, while your eyes were locked, your breathing speeding up with every second. Keeping his thumb on your clit, he pushed two fingers in your pussy, making you moan. You rolled your hips towards his fingers, fucking yourself on them. You grabbed his shirt to hide your face, nuzzling his neck, being ashamed of breaking so easily for him.

“Fuck…I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, baby, I know. Come on my fingers, clench ‘em again. Even faster than in the car, fuck.”

He pressed his crotch against your hip, and you could feel his bulge. You knew he loved to show how hard he could be, how big his dick was. “Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, just before you came. He let you ride out your orgasm, his thumb resting on your clit, his fingers still buried inside you. Then he slowly removed them from your dripping cunt and licked them one by one, not taking his eyes off you and added “I remember everythin’, baby.”

Flashbacks started to come back to you. You saw yourself coming on their fingers, their tongues, their cocks.

Steve started backing up until he leaned against the opposite wall, less than four feet from you, and you watched him unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. He spat in his hand and started slowly jerking off in front of you.

“Show me your pussy, baby. Lemme see her.”

His words were a melody you didn't want to stop. You did like he asked, pulling up your dress for him. Your panties were still around your ankles. You bunched up the fabric in your fists, and held it around your hips. With your pussy offered to his view, his wrist began speeding up.

“Touch yourself a little. Yeah, just like that, shit…” Your clit was still throbbing under your fingers but you didn't want to stop. You wanted to see him cum. "Still sensitive baby? Yeah, bet ya are, came hard for me." You nodded, pushed a finger into your core and then brought it to your lips, tasting your wetness. He was jacking off his shaft fast now. “Shit. You’re so fuckin' hot. Ya like that little pussy juice? Yeah, I like it too…fuck…fuck…oh shiiiiit.”

His cum spurted out, some of it landing on the ground, and some of it onto his clenched fist. “Damn, you’re a naughty thing. And you ain't even drunk, baby…” he laughed, groaning, milking his cock to the very last drop. And he smirked, as his eyes sparkled.

He wiped his hand, moved closer to you, tucking his cock back in his pants, gave you a piece of paper and whispered in your ear, “Be at this address, tomorrow at 6pm. Javi and I will give it to ya good, if you’re ready for part 2.”

He wrapped his big hands around your neck in the most gentle way, and gave you a languid kiss which made your head spin. When he walked out of the bathroom, your pussy was clenching desperately, so you locked the door behind him, and got off a second time.

You had some doubts about coming to meet Steve and Javi but they were overshadowed by the need to be used by the men again.

Flashbacks of the night spent with them began driving you insane with lust. Especially after Steve’s skillful fingers coaxed a hardest climax out of you in the bar bathroom.

So the next day you went to Javi’s place. When Steve opened the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you and gently kissed your cheek.

“Here’s my baby,” he whispered in your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. He led you to the living room where you found Javi sitting in an armchair. He nodded and gave you a little smile. Your clit twitched when his dark eyes glided up and down your body.

“Want a drink?” Steve asked, when you sat down on the couch. You agreed to have a beer and after getting it, he joined you. His hand was immediately on your naked thigh, lips tracing paths along your neck. Your core was buzzing with the anticipation of the night and you moaned when Steve’s hand slithered up to your heated center.

“Damn, Javi, our girl ain’t wearing any panties,” Steve said, not tearing his blown eyes from yours.

“Putita, (little slut),” you heard Javi mumble.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Your breath hitched when Steve’s thumb slipped between your folds and gently rubbed your hardening clit.

You moaned his name and his lips brushed yours as he began caressing your bud with feather light strokes. He was playing with you, winding up your arousal more and more until you were nothing but a trembling needy mess under his touch.

“Please…,” you whined and Javi chuckled.

“What do you need, baby?” Steve asked, his eyes finding yours while he was torturing you with his soft caress.

Javi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and said, “Our little slut needs what she came for, Steve. To get fucked. Right, Hermosa?” You looked into his eyes and nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Say it, beautiful,” Steve whispered, pulling his hand away from your pussy and making you whine with need.

You didn’t care that it felt humiliating. On the contrary the fact that they had such power over you was turning you on even more. You’d do anything to be used by them at that moment. So you cleared your throat and mumbled, “Please, fuck me.”

Javi smirked, adjusting his bulge, and Steve kissed your cheek before getting up, pulling you up on your feet and then lying down on the floor along the couch.

“C’mere, baby. Sit on my face,” he said, motioning for you to straddle him with his hands. You looked at Javi and he got up and stood behind you, his hands on your waist, “Don’t be shy, cariño, Steve’s gonna make you feel real good.” You felt his hands pulling up your dress until he slipped it off your body completely. Now you were absolutely naked in a room with two fully clothed men.

Steve moaned at the sight of you, “Fuck, c’mon, beautiful. Be a good girl and let me taste this sweet pussy.”

You bit your lip and kneeled down over Steve’s face. Javi sat on the couch and you saw him unzipping his jeans. You got mesmerized when he took his gorgeous cock out but suddenly Steve’s hands grabbed your hips and he pulled you down on his face. You felt his soft lips latch onto your throbbing pussy and whimpered when his tongue slid between your folds. He slowly licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and began sucking on the bud making you arch your back and flutter your eyes shut.

“Look at this little whore, Steve. There was no need to get her drunk that night. ‘m sure she’d have jumped at the chance to be fucked by us.”

Steve hummed against your heat and the vibrations sent a new wave of pleasure through your body.

“More, Steve, please,” you pleaded, clenching his blond hair with your fist and rolling your hips getting desperate for a release.

You looked down and saw his eyes glint with mischief. Steve gave you a wink, pushed your folds apart with his fingers and flattened his tongue against your blooming pussy. He rubbed your clit and then slid down to lap at your crying hole.

“She’s sweet, yeah?” Javi asked Steve, watching him devour your cunt while his big hand was slowly sliding up and down his weeping cock. You licked your lips throwing a glance at it and Javi noticed.

“I think putita wants to suck on something big and juicy. Don’t you, cariño?” He asked as he got up and stood next to Steve and you. His cock bobbed in front of your face. Javi took it in his hand at the base and you looked up at him. He was towering over you, your eyes hazy with the pleasure Steve was giving you. Javi cupped your cheek and you purred into his touch.

“Open up, putita,” he said gently as his fingers pinched your chin and pulled it down, opening your mouth.

His cock was soft and hot on your tongue and you began slowly pleasuring him. You gently sucked on the tip first and then took him deeper, until it reached the back of your throat.

“Oh, I love this mouth,” Javi breathed out, tilting his head back. But soon his eyes were cast down again and he watched you work his cock and Steve devour your glistening pussy.

The man between your legs was relentlessly licking at your cunt, slurping and groaning against your center. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on the cock in your mouth and you kept pausing and just drooling around Javi’s stiff length.

“Fuck, Steve, what are you doing to her down there? She can’t suck my cock right, got too pleasure-dumb.”

Steve chuckled against your clit and you moaned loudly around Javi’s member.

“Am I eating you well, baby?” Steve asked parting from your pussy for a second and slightly biting your inner thigh. You glanced up at Javi, eyes glossy and blown.

“Oh, putita’s gone, Steve,” Javi laughed at your state and added, “I’ll have to do everything myself then.”

With that he took your head between his hands and started thrusting his hot cock into your mouth. He was gentle at first but the deeper he pushed his length into you, the rougher he was getting. Soon he was fucking your mouth in earnest, making you drool and gasp for air every chance he granted you, while Steve was bringing you close to the climax.

Javi dipped his cock into your throat as Steve swirled your clit with his tongue and you came undone, drowning Steve’s mouth with your slick and moaning loudly around Javi’s member.

“Oh, cariño, your mouth is heaven but I need to last,” Javi groaned, pulling you off his cock, “let’s get her to bed, Steve.”

“Lie down, and spread your legs for me,” you heard Steve command as soon as you stepped into the bedroom.

You got on the bed and spread them slightly, feeling shy.

“Spread them more. Show me that wet pussy.”

You spread your thighs further.

“I said more, baby.”

This time you used your fingers and parted your folds. You felt both uncomfortable with their predatory attitude and horny at the idea of what they were going to do to you next. They made no secret of their desire and hunger for you. You felt like you were leaking onto the sheets. Steve looked at you like at a piece of meat, his swollen cock in his hand, precum leaking.

“You see that, Javi?”

“Hard to miss it, she's dripping,” the man answered, stroking his cock lazily. “I love when they ruin my sheets. Come on, give her what she wants. Your cock. Right, Hermosa?”

You noded.

“Say it.”

“I…want your cock”, you said, looking at Steve only, that time.

He lay down between your legs, spread them with his knees, and slid his tip between your folds, one hand resting on your cheek.

“You’re gonna take this cock like a good girl?”

“Yeah…”

He thrust in slightly making you whimper, and your hands squeezed his biceps.

“Tell me how much you wanna get fucked.”

“I…I want you two to fuck me. Please”, you begged. “I can't stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah? Did you touch yourself, thinking about our cocks?”

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Putita”, Javi hissed through his teeth.

Steve kept thrusting in slowly, his hand holding your chin so you wouldn’t take your eyes off him while his thick cock was spreading your folds almost painfully, his other hand on your hip as leverage.

“Oh fuck…”

“Yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl.”

“I’m so fuckin’ hard. Blow me again, let’s use more of your holes.”

Javi slipped his tip in your mouth and you eagerly welcomed it. You didn't recognize yourself. You felt like only your senses were directing you, as you let Javi fuck your mouth, and Steve your cunt.

“Mierda, look at that slut. Can’t believe she came back for more.”

“Yeah, well…we fucked her good. And we’re doing it again. Look at you taking these cocks, baby…” Steve groaned, bottoming out. Your fingers dug into his flesh. Javi’s cock pushed into your throat just as Steve’s member was thrust in deep inside your core. You moaned softly, as much as Javi's cock would allow you to. Then he pulled back, leaving only the tip in your mouth.

“Lick the tip, Hermosa. I want you to taste me in your mouth, before I fill up your pussy.”

You kept sucking him, his precum flowing down your throat. “Damn, you’re a natural…one day, I’ll fill that throat too. But not today. Today we’re gonna fill your cunt and make you scream on our cocks.”

He was fucking your mouth again, slowly. You realized he was doing it at the same pace as Steve was fucking your pussy.

“Damn, I can see your dick in her throat, Javi.”

And Steve kissed your neck, there. Fuck, that was hot. They complemented it other well, like they had been fucking girls together for a long time. You wondered how many they had fucked before you. If they had fucked anyone else since that night.

“Fuck the side of her mouth Javi. Wanna see more.”

You looked up and saw Javi’s smirk as he did what Steve asked. Steve brushed his nose against your cheek, then placed his lips on it. Javi's cock created a bump that Steve was bound to feel under his lips.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” you though and moaned.

Steve continued to slowly thrust in your pussy. He was brushing against your g spot with every stroke and you felt your orgasm building.

Javi pulled out his cock that was glistening with your saliva and sat in the chair next to the bed. “Two cocks slut”, he mumbled, thighs spread wide, his cock hard and weeping. He was watching Steve fuck you and a smirk didn't leave his face. He took his balls in his hand and squeezed them.

“She’s taking it good, damn,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” you whimpered.

“Oh…I ain’t talking about you, baby…I’m talking about her”, he replied, pulling away from you to point his chin at your pussy.

You cheeks started burning when you heard him.

“You’re gonna take our cum, Hermosa? You’re gonna let us fill you up?”

“Yeah, I want it.”

Steve turned your face towards him after gently grasping your chin between his fingers.

“You’re gonna look at me, baby, when you’re coming on my cock. Want to see your eyes roll back. Ok?"

You nodded. Your moans filled the room, barely drowned out by the sound of the bodies slapping against each other and your wetness around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel her pussy squeezing me…she’s gonna come. Come on, beautiful, yeah, just like that.”

Javi stood up and moved closer to the bed. “Can’t wait to stuff you too.”

Their words made you explode on Steve’s cock who grunted louder “oh fuck, fuck! She’s choking me so hard, man…I can’t…fuck” as he came deep inside your pussy, his eyes staring into yours.

You were feeling Steve’s cum fill you to the brim and spill out of your hole. You looked deep into his eyes and then glanced down at his mouth. In a second he kissed you, slowly and gently, his cock still twitching inside your overflowing pussy and you made out until you heard Javi’s velvety voice,

“My turn, lovebirds.”

Steve’s lips left yours and he gave you a warm smile before pulling out and getting off you. He sat in the chair and took the cigarette that Javi had left still burning in the ashtray.

Javi soon took his place between your thighs which made you feel like a fuck doll again. Not that you minded, you had come to be used by them and that’s what they were doing.

So you welcomed Javi’s stiff cock as soon as it nudged your stretched hole and almost pierced yourself on it. Javi moaned when his length slid inside your sloppy core easily, like a hot knife through butter.

“Damn, Steve, she’s full of you. So wet and warm.”

As soon as he made one thrust, you heard your pussy squelch with all the cum inside and you averted your eyes from Javi to Steve.

“Oh, are you embarrassed, nuestra putita? (Our little slut). No shame in being a cum dumpster for a good man. Or two good men,” he chuckled and Steve laughed.

Your cheeks were burning but his words made you clench hard on his cock which didn’t go unnoticed by Javi and he continued, “So you’re gonna take it-”, he thrust in hard and slowly retraced his cock,”-like a good girl,” he groaned with another rough stroke to your pussy.

Then with one hand on the back of your neck and the other gripping your hip he started pounding into you. His piercing eyes on you, he watched your face twist with pleasure.

“You’re gonna come again, hermosa,” he said without a shade of question in his tone.

He got up on his knees, not pulling out, and continued fucking you.

You glanced at Steve who was still smoking in the chair, his big cock in his veiny hand.

Javi’s tip hit your cervix and you whimpered.

“You know, baby,” Steve said after taking another drag, “fucking you is the best, but watching you getting railed is a very close second.”

Then he put out the cigarette and walked up to the bed. He smiled at you and then his gaze slid down your sweaty, heated body to the spot where Javi’s cock was plunging in and out of your crying pussy.

“Look at your creamy soaked cock, Javi,” Steve murmured and gave himself a few strokes. He was already hard again.

Javi just growled in response, probably concentrated on not blowing his load just yet.

Your gaze was darting between Javi’s pleasured face and Steve’s big hand wrapped around his member and you licked your lips when a drop of precum beaded on the tip.

“Already thirsty, beautiful?” Steve murmured, coming up to your head. “Lucky for you, I’m hard again.”

He put one knee on the bed bringing his cock closer to your face and you lifted yourself on your elbows to reach it with your mouth. You didn’t understand why you were so hungry for them both but the desire was leading you relentlessly. You wanted your every hole to be plugged by them, ruined by them and were ready to give them all of you.

So you took Steve in your mouth and looking up into his blue eyes let him fuck your throat. He was careful, more gentle than Javi and you reveled in ecstasy watching his stomach heave, eyes get darker because of you.

Soon Javi’s cock made your pussy contract around him and you started coming. Steve, almost sent over the edge by your whimpers, pulled you off and moved lower on the bed pointing his cock at your lower belly.

“Aahh,” he moaned and his cock began spurting his pearly cum over your body. The load landed on your belly, mound and puffy folds and Steve stroked his cock till the last drop was on you.

You brought your fingers there and they danced over his warm seed, spreading it over your skin, gently caressing your clit using it as lube.

The sight of you playing with Steve’s cum made Javi groan and he started erupting inside you adding his cum to Steve’s.

Steve plopped on the bed next to you looking satiated while Javi’s cock was still pulsating in your pussy.

“Our good girl,” Steve whispered in your ear and tilted your head to kiss you. You were still making out when Javi pulled out his cock.

“Clean me up, Hermosa.”

You nodded and he walked on his knees up the bed, until your head was between his thighs. You lifted up your torso and licked all the salty cum off his softening cock.

“Balls too, sweetheart,” Steve whispered and you followed the command, feeling your pussy tingle again.

When Javi’s cock and sack were clean you slumped down on the bed and Javi joined you two with a cigarette between his lips.

“Thank you, beautiful,” Steve said before kissing you.

“Eres inceíble,”(you’re amazing) Javi praised you before taking a drag. You smiled at him, spent and satisfied, and then turned to Steve.

“C’mere, baby,” he told you and pulled you into his big arms. You two soon fell asleep, your head on his shoulder, and when Javi finished his cigarette he cuddled up to you from behind. That was the first night you slept with them until the morning.

*******************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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magics-neptunes-things · 4 months

Text

Collide (2)

Hello everyone!

Here is the rest of Collide, you can find the first part here, I obviously advise you to read it if you come across this part first… Otherwise you will surely not understand much!

A big thank you for your support, this story is longer and more thoughtful than the ones I have written so far, so it takes me much more time.

I really hope that all of you are having or will have a wonderfull Christmas. Take care of yourself and your loved ones ❤️

I hope you'll enjoy this part :)

TW : Alcohol, Angst and I think it’s ok like that!

World : 5.4K

PART 1 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6 | PART 7

______________________________________________________________

Time has gone by nicely since you arrived in London and your integration into the Arsenal team is no longer in doubt. You get along well with everyone, you participate willingly in the parties organized by your teammates and you even managed to make yourself appreciated quickly by the fans. Which is not a difficult thing as long as you play well. And without wanting to throw yourself flowers or play the presumptuous, you are more than satisfied with your performance on the field right now.

Alessia has become a very close friend and the fact that she’s your neighbor probably helps a lot too. You often go to the training ground together and it happens regularly that one finishes at the other apartment in the evening. You have become a bit of an essential element of each other’s apartment decor. You are also close to Manuela, your goalkeeper, and Viv makes you die laughing. You also enjoy spending time with Lia, even if she is very close to Leah who continues to torment your thoughts. Katie and Caitlin are great mates too.

After some time of tension between Leah and you following your defection during your kiss, you managed to find a cordial relationship. You can’t help but look at her when she doesn’t see you, you still feel very attracted to her. And it’s not just about physics, you find her funny, interesting and you have the impression that your souls are made to get along. But you’ve never been alone with her since the party. And you feel like it suits Leah like that.

You were getting ready for practice when your phone rings, somewhere in your apartment. After a few long seconds of research, you end up finding it under a cushion of your sofa and answers without taking the time to look who may try to contact you.

"Y/N, hi!" makes a joyful voice.

"Wally, what’s going on?" you ask, sitting on your couch.

You hear from the noise around her that she’s definitely driving somewhere noisy.

"I had to pick up Leah to take her to practice but I’m stuck in traffic and I don’t think I’ll be on time myself. Could you go get her, please?"

No? Out of question to find myself with my crush in the same space clot for twenty minutes without interruption miss Wälti, I am not sure to survive. Have you see this girl? The way her face light up when she smile make me want to...

"Oh, yes, of course" you answer, pinching your nose. "You’re telling her I’m coming?"

"Yeah, yeah, no worries. Thank you very much Y/N, see you later."

"Drive carefully. See you"

Your voice is just a mumble at the end of your sentence and you hang up before Lia has time to say something else. You always go early when you drive alone like today, Alessia having an appointment before training. You have plenty of time to get Leah, but you’re still very worried.

So you nervously take the wheel, driving to the blonde's house where you’ve already been to for one of your evenings. Before the kiss. When you park in front of her house, you take a few seconds to take a big breath before getting out of the car.

You press the doorbell a first time before sliding your hands in the pockets of your sweatshirt and you press a second time after a few minutes, when you realize that no one comes to open. You know Leah lives alone so maybe she just didn’t hear the doorbell the first time.

But your ear is drawn to a piano melody that makes you frown. Since when has Leah been playing the piano? You don’t have time to question yourself any longer, though, since your captain’s voice ends up in your ears.

"Come on in Wally, it’s open!" Leah screams

Ouch. So either she didn’t get Lia’s messages, or Lia just forgot to warn her. Whatever it is, you’re hoping Leah won’t take your presence at her place badly. You end up slowly entering inside, carefully closing the door behind you. Leah’s home is different in the daylight and you mechanically follow the melody of the piano that resounds in the house.

You end up finding Leah in a room that probably serves as her office, actually installed behind a piano. This woman is full of surprises. You don’t dare interrupt her, so you cross your arms and lean on the door frame until she’s done. You recognize a song by Shania Twain, but you can't remember the title of it.

When she’s done, Leah turns in your direction with a satisfied little smile. That quickly turns into a surprised frown when she sees you there. "Hi" you say before clearing your throat. "Lia is stuck somewhere in London with her car and asked if I could pick you up. She was supposed to warn you. Sorry, I guess she forgot to" "Oh, okay" Leah replies, getting up "It’s been a while since I looked at my phone, I may not have seen her message" You nod thoughtfully, tightening your arms around yourself mechanically while waiting for Leah to check her phone. You see a new smile lightening her face and you imagine that it is by seeing the message of the Swiss woman. You’re kind of jealous about the ease of their relationship, to have a friendship as strong as they both have... No, actually, it’s not a friendship you’d like to have with Leah. But you have to stay wise. Anyway, you doubt it’s what the blonde wants on her side. She’s not one to be in a long relationship. "Shall we go?" Leah’s voice cuts you off in your thoughts and you simply nod, taking off against the wood you were always leaning on. You pick up Leah’s bag mechanically as you pass the front door, which seems to both surprise and amuse her. "I can carry my bag, you know?" "Oh... I just thought with your leg... sorry" Leah does not answer, content to laugh gently closing the door of her home with a key. You mask your red cheeks by storing her bag in the trunk of your car and you hope to have found a casual face when you sit next to her. "I didn’t know you played the piano" you say after a few minutes of silence. Leah looks at you briefly and you feel like she’s holding back from saying "There’s a lot you don’t know about me," which is probably true. "I started it during the lockdown. I’m not really good, but I like it."

"What I heard was very good" you countered, looking at it in the corner of your eyes.

"Well thanks" Leah laughs and you feel your belly make a somersault "But I’ve been repeating this song for a long time. I have no right to tell you why for the moment"

"It’s a piece by Shania Twain, isn’t it?"

"Yes. You’re still the one"

This time, you see her turning in your direction to be able to better observe you. Is it done voluntarily or not, you do not know. What you do know is that you’re happy to have started a conversation that allows you to exchange without having disturbing silence in the car.

"Do you like country music?" asks the blonde

"Not really. All I know about country is that Miley Cyrus has a father who does. Does it count?" you ask with a laugh.

"I could hit you right now"

Leah has a smile when she says that, and it makes you laugh again. A new silence comes between you, but this one is nice. You are finally relaxed with each other since your party and you feel you can breathe more easily.

"We’re going to a Luke Combs concert next weekend. You could come with us, it would open you up to the country world?"

You bite your lip thoughtfully. You know many of them are going. Leah, Lia, Alessia, and so on.

"Less offered it to me a few days ago but I refused saying that I didn’t like to go to concerts if I could not sing the lyrics" you admit thoughtfully.

Your gaze clinging to the dense traffic in London doesn’t allow you to see the disappointment read for a few seconds on Leah’s face.

"I guess I’ll have to revise quickly"

To be honest, what also made you turn down that offer was not to make Leah’s evening unpleasant. You quickly understood how she can’t stand being away from others on the field and how these shared moments with your teammates are important to her. But that she still wants you to come also makes you exceedingly happy.

During the rest of the trip, Leah asks you about your own musical preferences and you tell her that you got stuck with the old rock and pop-rock bands you used to listen to when you were a teenager. A little Norwegian variety also thanks to your parents, whom she has never heard of but that doesn’t surprise you particularly.

********

"Looks good, your integration into Arsenal" Leila’s voice says from your phone as you cook yourself something for dinner.

"Frankly, I have nothing to complain about. They are all adorable" you answer sincerely.

"Adorable is not a term I would use for Katie McCabe"

You laugh softly and shake your head. You know perfectly well the reputation that Katie has outside the field, you have heard about it since your arrival in the English champion.

"She’s like a bulldozer on the ground, but outside she’s really nice. A hell of a character maybe, but I’ve never seen someone as loyal as her"

"Look at her, completely on the enemy’s side"

Leila laughs and you smile, rolling your eyes. Sometimes keeping friendships isn’t easy when you’re away or playing on opposing teams, but you’re glad to see that you seem to be keeping your bond with Leila for now. You obviously hope it lasts.

Two shots are taking at your front door before Alessia comes inside to drop on your couch. It’s become such a habit between you that you don’t even react to her presence.

"How was the concert?" asks Leila.

"It was good, sincerely. It’s not the music I used to listen to, but I liked it."

That’s the truth. You honestly didn’t expect to have such a great time. The good relationship between Arsenal players also exists outside the field and this spirit makes you feel like part of a family. From someone so far from yours like you, it’s more than pleasant. And that night you spent gave you an opportunity to spend some time with Leah too. Like a child who tests his own limits, you try to determine where the line is that you must not exceed. As if she were reading your thoughts, Leila resumes speaking as you mix what you cook in your pan. "What about Williamson?" "What about Leah?" You ask, taking a quick look at Alessia to see if she’s listening to what you’re saying. "Huh? Since you kissed, is..." You don’t hear the end of the sentence, jumping on your phone to cut the microphone. But it’s too late and you see Alessia’s face turning into a surprise. The amazement, rather. "I call you back Lei" you mumble to your friend before hanging up. "You kissed Leah?" Wide-eyed, Alessia has made her way to you. A big smile appeared on his face, but you startled when you heard him scream half. "Shh!" you tell her, as if you were afraid someone else would listen to you. "Why didn’t you tell me? When was that?" Alessia put her two hands on your shoulders and she shakes you gently, apparently more than willing to have answers to her questions. "At my moving-in party" you end up sighing. "And she kissed me." Well, you didn’t reject it to be honest. Well, at the beginning anyway. The rest, no need to remind. "Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your place?" laughs Alessia. "Why does it look like you killed someone when you talk about it?" "Because nothing has happened since then, we are probably not looking for the same thing. Not many people know, Lessi, you have to keep it to yourself please"

"Of course I will. But maybe Lia knows too, Leah say her everything."

"Maybe" you shrug.

"But still. You kissed Leah Williamson"

********

The break for international competitions arrive at à great time. You were able to see your family again, especially your parents and seeing your friends from the national team also make you happy. Your reunion with Ingrid was filmed and posted on social media, your embrace being visible to everyone. You don’t know what makes people not think there’s something going on between you, but you’re grateful that it’s going on like this. You like Ingrid as a friend and you don’t want to have to think about how to behave with her so you don’t hurt her girlfriend.

The results of your national team didn’t live up to your expectations however, despite the goals you were able to score. The disappointment must have been visible in the message that you tried to shoot positively on Instagram. You got some messages of encouragement from your friends, from Arsenal or not. You also received a message from Leah, the first one she addresses you directly on a Whatsapp band.

If you were sad to have to say goodbye to your best friend again, finding your Arsenal teammates is a pleasure. This feeling of being at home warms your heart.

"Hi Frozen" tease Katie at you when you see her for the first time, making you roll your eyes with fun.

This time again, the hug that you exchange with Leah lasts a little longer than the others and you smile at her when she pinches you affectionately the cheek. Maybe you missed her too much.

In the next game, against Aston Villa, you feel like Leah’s mind is somewhere else, but yours too. This is the first time in a long time that you will find yourself facing your ex and you know that Leah will also have to live with the fact that Jordan will be around.

Even though the blonde is still not playing, Leah participates in the briefings and is always around when you play at home.

No wonder, her love for the team and the club is now known to everyone. You haven’t been thinking particularly about Alina lately, Leah taking a lot of time in your thoughts. But you have to admit that to see her again, even from the back, training with her teammates, it does you something. You no longer have the slightest feeling of love for her, of course. Everything magically disappeared the day you learned about her infidelities. But you still have trouble swallowing betrayal.

"Are you okay here?"

You recognize Leah’s voice easily, but the hand on your shoulder makes you jump. Crossing her eyes, you quickly understand that she understood and you just shrug your shoulders.

"Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go."

Leah’s hand slips on your back as she takes you to the small group forming by Alessia, Katie and Kyra. You find yourself regretting the feeling of her hand in your back when Alessia puts her arm around your shoulders in a comforting embrace. You nevertheless let yourself go against her, looking over Leah’s shoulder. From a distance, you have the impression that Jordan Nobbs was looking in your direction.

The game was hard, Aston Villa scored first and your team have trouble to find the back of the net. It last almost until the end of the game, until you caught Leah’s eye in the bleachers. From there to say that it’s her who gave you the impulse to go and score the goal, there is a world. But still, it’s only a few seconds later that you score. And a few minutes later, Alessia scored the winning goal, allowing Arsenal to win the match.

It’s probably cruel for the other team, but honestly you don’t care. You don’t get asked to show your joy, celebrating with Wally, Kyra and Alessia. You watch while a smiling Leah jumping into Alessia’s arms just before Katie comes to offer you a hug in her own way, passing an arm around your neck while strocking your hair with the other hand.

"Manu’s organising a party for tonight, are you coming?" says you a happy Katie.

When she gets your positive answer she releases you, literally pounding up to Caitlin. It’s by following her with your eyes that your eyes cling to a silhouette that you know very well despite yourself. Alina, standing in the middle of the field with her hands on her hips, looking disgusted. As you said, seen from the other side, the defeat must be bitter.

When she looks at you too, you hurry to turn your heels, only to rush straight into Jordan Nobbs.

"Oh… sorry mate" you mumble by rushing to run away.

You are relieved to see that the person who pulls you by the arm right after is Alessia, carrying you away from this situation. An amused smile is visible on her face, and you feel that she restrains herself from saying something.

"Don’t"

Alessia laughs and can only smile when hearing it, gently shaking your head. The fans in front of which Alessia trains you claiming photos and autographs, that make you forget easily what has just happened.

********

A few hours later, you’re in a nightclub with almost the entire team. Although we have to admit that everyone was a little scattered throughout the nightclub. Maybe you drank too much, too. Leah is here, of course. When she came to sit next to you with her big smile and her sexy outfit, you almost fainted. You feel like she’s doing it on purpose. But it’s nothing compared to the wave of chills that runs through you when she looks at you to say "Pretty goal, superstar". The ambient music forces her to have this behavior, but still.

It’s not the ambient music that will make her invite you to dance with her. If you refused at first, claiming not to know how to dance, you couldn’t resist her any longer. And you also noticed that others girls don’t seem against keeping Leah company. Of course, you have absolutely no right to be jealous, but that definitely tilts the scales.

You’ve been dancing with Leah for a long time now, to be honest, you’ve completely lost track of time. Your teammates are far too drunk around you to pay attention to you and none seem to have realized how your body seems unable to detach from Leah’s. Your body is attracted with the strength of a magnet by hers and as long as you had your back against her, you managed to fight against yourself and keep an almost clear mind. But when the last song changed, you stupidly turned around and you were hypnotized by the captain’s gaze. Your heart rate is faster, your breathing is more complicated and you have to fight with all your strength not to lean in her direction a few centimeters more to be able to kiss her. Her hands on your hip and in the hollow of your back hold you all against her and the arms you tied around her neck may not help either. It’s as if your mind and your body wanted two things and you were pulled from two sides at the same time. You’ve obviously noticed Leah’s eyes slipping regularly on your lips, seemingly wishing nothing but to kiss you. The message is very clear, it would be for anyone. But when Leah tries an approach and touches your lips with hers, you step back. You obviously realized that Leah didn’t even look at a girl other than you tonight, but the fear of getting screwed again is stronger than the rest. You only stepped back a few inches so you could look into Leah’s. If you haven't saw Alina today, maybe you would have kiss her. You certainly read a part of disappointment, perhaps even a little rejection, but also uncertainty. Does she think that she misinterpreted the signals you send her? That is not the case, of course. You are undeniably attracted to her, you don't want to lie to her either. Or worse, let her start thinking that you’re the one playing with her feelings.

"I’m sorry. I don’t want to be an extra number on your hunting board, Leah."

By your position, you feel Leah’s breath against your lips and it makes you half crazy. When you gently detach you from her, she lets you. You can see her jaw is tight, but you don’t feel like it’s anger. You can’t take the time to figure out what it is, before you decide to get out of there. You pick up your jacket and bag and go out, even unintentionally bumping into someone who hasn’t asked for anything on your way.

"Are you alright?"

A voice next to you makes you jump and you raise your eyes on a couple that was probably out smoking. The girl looks at you with special attention and you realize at this moment that your hands are shaking.

"Yes, yes, it’s okay" you mumble taking a deep breath.

"Sure?"

You nod again, both surprised and touched by so much soliscitude. Maybe there is still some hope in the human being?

"Do you know where I can get a cab?"

The one you imagine being her boyfriend points at you the end of the street. You thank and greet them, walking quickly going in the right direction. It only take you twenty minutes to return home, your mind haunted by the image of Leah, the sensations felt when your face was only a few inches from you. Regrets mix with relief and you still don’t know if you made the right decision.

You don’t even take the time to remove your makeup before hiding under your duvet. You want to call Leah, but this is the second time you’ve pushed her away in a short time. You will never dare to return to the training ground without having a terrible fear of running into her. You were wondering if you are going to contact your agent to ask him to propose you for a loan with another team when you hear someone knocking on the door of your apartment. "Y/N?" It’s Alessia’s voice and you realize no one saw you leave, except maybe Leah. You hiss when you feel the cold ground under your bare feet when you answer, finding yourself facing an Alessia who seems both relieved and annoyed. Her phone in hand, she seems to finish reading a message when she reports her attention to you. "Why didn’t you say you were going home?" Her tone is accusing and you pout, feeling like you’re being scolded by your older sister. But you can understand the worry. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." Alessia still looks at you for a few seconds while squinting before sighing and slipping into your apartment. She hugs you before she lets you go. "You and Leah were missing, we were worried" she explains before going for a glass of water. "Leah too?" In spite of yourself, you feel the anxiety rise suddenly. If something happened to her because of your behavior, you will never forgive yourself. Worry is easily detectable in your voice, as Less hurries to comfort you. "Yes, but she’s home. Lia found her there. What happened?" "What do you mean?" You mumble looking at your feet. "Well you both disappear, you’re closer than you’ve ever been... But you don’t have the face of someone who had a nice evening"

"I screwed up" you sigh softly as you cross your arms on your chest.

Your gaze is always fixed on your feet and you frown, trying to remember the meaning of your memories and thoughts. Alessia knows what happened with Alina, the deception and everything, it’s not for nothing that she remained close to you physically speaking today. In the field, at least.

Alessia doesn’t answer anything, waiting patiently to see if you want to continue to explain yourself or not.

'I panicked. There’s this kind of attraction I’ve had for her from the beginning and the more I try to fight it, the bigger it gets. It’s like every thing she did or said is what I expect her to do, without me even knowing it."

You looked up at the blonde this time and she watches you talking, holding her half-empty glass of water in her hand. Her eyebrows are ruffled, but she looks more pensive than upset this time.

"We managed to catch up with the bond we had after I pushed her back. But tonight… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about what happened with Alina all day and… I panicked. I don’t want to be heartbroken again."

This time it’s a compassionate smile that appears on Alessia’s face, which is content to extend your arms as the very first answer. You accepted and snuggled up against her, sighing softly. She didn’t steal her nickname of Lessi Bear.

"I think you should talk to Leah" Alessia says after a few seconds.

"I doubt she’ll want to talk to me again"

********

You were right. You don’t know if it’s voluntary or not on Leah’s part, but you haven’t seen her since the nightclub. She seems to have changed her physiotherapy and training schedules so she won’t run into you again. And you have to admit that it hurt your heart. But again this reaction is probably very selfish, if you are both there it is only your fault.

Your mood has deteriorated throught the days when you feel someone sitting next to you in the locker room. You look up expecting to find yourself in front of Caitlin who has her locker next to yours, but instead it’s Lia who addresses you one of her famous smiles.

"Are you okay?" she asks and you ask yourself in the first place if she’s not making fun of you.

But it would mean not knowing Lia at all.

"Good. What about you?"

Lia nods, still armed with her smile, while you finish putting on your sneakers. The training session has just ended, you are showered and changed and ready to go home.

"I was wondering if we could talk together?"

"Of course."

You get up and follow her, wondering what it is. Lia trains you with her in the cafeteria of the team, currently completely deserted. After having caught yourself drinking and sitting at a table, you look at her with an undisguised curiosity. If you really like the Swiss woman, you’ve never really exchanged one-on-one.

"Is everything okay?" You can’t help but ask her, afraid she’s in trouble.

"Oh, yes. It’s not me I wanted to talk to you about, it’s Leah."

You make a slight grimace but nods gently, your look staying on the cup of coffee you ordered yourself.

"I’m sorry if I intervene in a way that is not my business and you will have the right to scold me later, but I think it’s time someone did"

You look at her again a little surprised. Faithful to her country of origin, Lia is far from wanting to conflict with anyone. However, the fact that she wants to take the risk of doing so is a testament to the importance of what she will say.

"Leah told me what happened between you two"

Lia gives you an apology smile, but you told Alessia and Ingrid about it so you just nod. It would be rather inappropriate for you to resent Leah for needing to confide to someone.

"I don’t know who told you things about her, but what I do know is that Leah has been my friend since I came to Arsenal. She was always loyal and honest with me. When my ex and I broke up and I was lower than earth, she came home every night to try to cheer me up. She is sincere, kind and much sweeter and more tender than what people want her to be."

You know, you’re uncomfortable. You are one of those people who preferred to listen to what people was saying about Leah at the worst time, when she showed you during all these weeks that she is the girl that Lia has just described to you.

"I don’t know your past Y/N and I’m not judging you. But I really believe that Leah is genuinely interested in you. If it were just for one night, she would have moved on for a long time especially after you told her you don’t want a one time thing"

You remain silent for a few seconds, during which you assimilate what Lia has just told you. Passing a hand through your hair, you end up looking up at her.

"Anyway, it’s too late now. She must hate me, right?"

"I think you should talk to her about all this"

You bite your lip, realizing this is the second time you’ve been advised to do this in a few days. Unfortunately, this could be complicated.

"How? She doesn’t even want to see me here anymore"

Your desperate look seems to amuse Lia, or at least she smiles while rolling her eyes.

"By extraordinary luck we’re in the 21st century. You can either contact her via your phone or go to her house to talk to her"

Lia’s amused tone makes you smile slightly. She’s right, but it’s not so much your style to impose your presence somewhere. Your interlocutor must understand your reticence, since she puts her hand on your arm, making you look at her again.

"I will not speak for her, but she also suffered in her past. The only thing holding you both back is a lack of communication. I’m sure it can be fixed."

********

Right in front of Leah’s house, you don’t remember being so nervous for a long time. After thinking long and hard about the conversation you had with Lia, you then had to think about how to approach Leah. The blond continues to flee you like the plague and even if contacting her by message would probably be easier, you are not sure if she answers you. If the blonde has many qualities that have made you fall under her spell, she is still atrociously stubborn and resentful.

You turned in your head several scenarios, again and again until you became half crazy. Then you had enough. Sitting on Alessia’s couch in front of a particularly lame reality TV, you suddenly got up. Alessia gave you a worried look but you just threw at her while leaving her apartment

“I’m going to see Leah”

Your voice was clear and determined, making her understand that your decision was made. After shrugging her shoulders, Alessia lay down again in front of the television.

“Okay. But maybe change your pajamas first.”

Interrupted in your way, your hand freezes on the doorknob of the stricker’s apartment. Your eyes slide on your polar pajama bottoms with avocados drawn on them.

A grommet escapes from your lips as you open the door, triggering Alessia’s laughter behind you.

_____________________________________________________________

Merry Christmas you all 🎄❤️

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso #woso imagines

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kazudesuu · 5 months

Text

satosugu x gn!reader

cw : fluff, bit of angst

haven’t written for so long so please accept this crumb of writing 😸

— together

: riko’s death and toji’s words took a toll on geto. how do you comfort him?

geto suguru knew he was fucked.

he knew he was fucked when he witnessed riko die in front of him. he knew he was fucked when he conversed with fushiguro toji. he knew he was fucked when he returned that night, images of the day’s events still flashing through his mind.

he was spiralling.

geto stood in the shower, letting the cool water run down his body. white noise filled his ears.

it’s too loud. it’s too loud. it’s too loud. it’s too loud. it’s too—

“suguru?” geto snapped out of whatever trance he was in. he turned, facing you. he took note of your uniform, how it was bloodied and crinkled. he hoped the blood wasn’t yours.

you stood there, staring at him. his eyes looked exhausted. dark circles were prominent underneath.

you had just returned from a mission against a grade one curse. it was a tough fight but you managed. you’d heard from principal yaga of what had happened and as the lover of the two strongest sorcerers, you were worried. you were aware gojo had been busy with more missions, now that he’d unlocked a greater power. he didn’t have time to be there for geto.

but you did.

and that was what you were doing right now.

silently, you stripped as geto turned away to face the wall. when you were bare, you approached geto and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your right cheek against his back.

the two of you were still. you felt geto relax against you. he closed his eyes, trying to find comfort in this moment of tranquility.

after a while, he turned his whole body to embrace you from the front. he buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“suguru…” your voice was soft, gentle. “everything will be fine. i’m here.” geto gripped you tighter, body shaking slightly.

he’s crying you realise.

“you can cry. don’t worry, i won’t let go of you.” you weren’t really a good comforter but you knew geto needed you now. needed someone he could rely on, someone he trusted. he cried a lot, sobs escaping him one after another. the sight of him so vulnerable made your heart clenched. this was what he was going through.

the shower had already stopped running now but you felt water dripped down your back. your hand reached up to geto’s hair, stroking it.

“y/n, i don’t know what to do,” geto muttered.

“we’ll figure it out. all three of us.” you pulled away from geto, cupping his face in your hands. “you’re not alone sugu. satoru and i will always be here.” you smile at him, using your thumb to wipe away his tears. geto stared into your eyes, seeing the immense amount of love in them. he couldn’t help but smile too.

after a few moments of the two you just staring at each other, you clapped your hands together. “okay, let’s finish showering. satoru should be coming back soon so let’s all just cuddle together and watch a movie!”

geto’s eyes softened as he slowly nodded. “sure.”

when gojo opened the door to the shared dorm, he found you and geto snuggled comfortably in bed. geto’s arms were snaked around your torso. your face was covered by his long hair.

gojo breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of you two. he walked towards the bed, glancing down at his lovers. you suddenly shifted, aware of another presence in the room.

when your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. “toru…” you muttered hazily. gojo lowered down and kissed your forehead.

“hey.” the male then leaned over to place a kiss on geto’s forehead. “is he okay?”

you looked up at gojo then back down at geto. you smile solemnly. “not right now but he will be, hopefully.”

gojo nodded. “i should’ve been there,” he mumbled, guilt and worry laced in his tone.

“what has happened has already happened. it was no one’s fault satoru. i hope you know that.” you reached to grab gojo’s hand. “now come on, clean yourself up and join us.”

gojo chuckled and jokingly saluted. “whatever you say.”

#© mine #❧ jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #x gn!reader

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moonit3 · 2 months

Text

୨⎯ "MISS POPULAR AND MISS NOBODY" ⎯୧

➽ context warnings: yandere female, wlw!, afab! reader, nsfw, reader encourages the yandere behavior, mentioned murder, masturbation (f!), fingering, mentioned stalking, breaking in, yandere stealing personal items from reader,

➽ word count: more than 2.5k

➽ synopsis: a lost sketchbook brings the two most unexpected people into a unexpected relationship.

➽ yandere! loser girl x popular! reader

➽ a/n: sorry for the long wanting, guys. there were a few problems with my college’s website and I almost lost my spot (but luckily i managed to fix it) and also, got a little depressed with penacony (T-T). but here is another collab with @taeee0902 that I really happy to have written it! however, I changed a few things close to the ending since i felt if I wrote more, things would’ve taken a wrong lead (leaving an open ending(?)) and also, i got lazy (sorry for that). but i hope u guys enjoy it! also tell me if there is any mistake as i wrote this in middle of the night.

➽ inside the library, at the one of the darkest corners of the old building, there is a young woman studying on her art. mumbling to herself about putting extra details on it as she struggles to find more ideas to finish her work before the deadline next week. her eyes couldn’t help but start getting tired after she spend an amount of her money on buying energy drinks to keep herself awake for the rest of the day.

➽ a place like the library was supposed to be quiet, somewhere safe to the rest of the loud and rude students go the campus, but not today. it’s seems those popular kids decided to come over and ruin her peace in less thanks five minutes. however her attention towards the art project got better after buying a large cup of coffee, so daisy pay no mind towards those idiots.

➽ the group of popular kids whisper to each other about the weird girl sitting by herself, saying nasty things about her looks and dark circles under her eyes, already imagining how her dormitory might look like full of dirty and smelly. all of them laughing and smiling about daisy, but not you, instead of making fun of her like anyone else wouldn’t do, you just watch the girl working on something behind the piles of books at the table. she looks kinda cute when focusing, with her tongue out of her mouth and the headphones covering her ears to prevent hearing from hearing anyone talking about her looks.

➽ it’s clear there is something on daisy that calls you, she makes you feel weird feelings that you never felt before with anyone else. the voices of your so called friends become muffled inside your head, now you could only hear the faint song coming out of her headphones, making you wonder about the taste in music she has. maybe she enjoy classic music? probably electronic or perhaps a genre that you don’t know the existence of?

➽ your eyes couldn’t move away from her, not when her body keeps moving in rhythm with the songs playing in her headphones as she works at her personal works. your mind keeps telling to step up and talk with her about anything, however you couldn’t, not when your own body isn’t obeying your orders. after hours and hours on her own little world, she packed her things to leave the library and return to her dormitory.

➽ however, she forget a small notebook at the table and when your friends leave to go to a party, you didn’t hesitate to take and put it inside your backpack before finally returning back to the sorority house and preparing yourself to go to bed after a long day of studying. however that didn’t happened.

➽ your fingers traced on the lineart on the cover. it’s feel wrong to see a piece of art without the artist’s permission, but you needed to find a way to contact the owner and luckily, you find something. a phone number and quickly, you called the mysterious girl to ask if tomorrow would be a perfect timing to give her sketchbook back…and as expected, she agreed to meet you up at the library, at the same spot she forget the sketchbook.

➽ when tomorrow arrived, daisy couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed about this whole encounter. sitting an empty bench, her mind is playing tricks on her about the person might never appear and keep her precious sketchbook to themselves—then a more rational part of the mind forces her to calm down, taking deep breaths before opening her eyes to see a figure standing in front of her.

➽ the smell of sweet perfume and the aura of an angel makes daisy realize the person who has her book is no other than mrs. popular girl, the girl who everyone wants to be and the person who everyone wants to kiss. oh no, she can already imagine the ill words you are going to say at her art and so, daisy prepares herself to be massacred by you….but you don’t.

➽ instead, words of kindness came out from your lips. you explained that you’ve taken a look inside her art—feeling guilty of such act, but at the same time, proud that you have found a great artist like her. “i never thought that ive found someone who uses acrylic markers so well as you! and the way you used post-it to cover up some mistakes is your signature? ahhh…is that how people call it?”

➽ every word coming out of your lips makes daisy feel special, for the first time since she remembers, someone has not only treat her art normally (without making fun of it) and for the first time ever, a person haven’t downgraded her as a lower level. she won’t admit, but it’s really cute seeing your cheeks blush when trying to find unique words to describe some of the art inside the sketchbook.

➽ clap! she closes the notebook to look up at your face, lips fully closed and staring down at her pale skin now red of embarrassment. “t-thank you, [name].” damn it! she wasn’t supposed to stutter in front of you. “and there is no problem that you’ve look into my sketchbook. but i need to go, bye!” without hesitating, daisy made her escape and left you standing you at the park. thinking about the unusual nature of daisy.

it’s been days since daisy has met you and still, she wasn’t able to forget about your lovely smile. her mind couldn’t forget the faint feeling of obsession passion growing inside her heart, making her cheeks red of only thinking about your presence.

the pages of the sketchbook are full of art of your face, smiling directly at the artist. post-it covers some more explicit drawing of your body, all filled of bites, scratches and of course, positions of your body in situations she would never speak out loud. it’s wrong to draw someone like this, she knows. however, as much daisy keeps telling herself to stop, she can only continues to draw more of your body like this, imagining what you looks underneath those fancy outfits.

“i’m sorry,” she said to herself, pulling her panty to the side, already touching her clit while thinking about you. “i-i’m sorry, [name]…” the newly feeling of wetness around her genitalia made easy to slick a finger inside, sensing the warmth of her inner walls.

she can’t put more than one finger without tearing the hymen, but it’s already enough to pleasure herself by it. “hmm-“ the juice leaking allows daisy part her clit apart to take a better look of her pussy when staring at the mirror, admiring the juice leaking from it. “[n-name]!”

daisy can already imagine it. having you above her body and giving orders for what to do to make you happy. her mind playing tricks on her whatever her finger reach a new spot to touch, making the whole body curves with moan and whines escaping from the lips.

it’s didn’t took much time for her orgasm to come, leaving fluids on her finger and wetting the white sheets of the bed. her breath is completely gone when laying down at the bed, not wanting to get up and look at herself at the mirror, but something more strong makes her gain enough stronger to walk towards the mirror.

a disheveled hair covering one of her eyes, cheeks completely red and of course, thighs dirty of her cum that haven’t stop dripping from her clit. never in millions years, daisy believed that she would touch herself in an intimate manner like this, specially towards another girl…but now, daisy knows she is capable of doing anything towards [name].

things aren’t going easy to you, not when the most comfortable hoodie of your has gone missing! how are you supposed to rest after a long day of study without wearing your most precious piece of clothing? you even placed it above behind the door to not forget.

“have you searched everywhere?” one of your friends would asked, worried about the smile missing from your face.

“of course i did! i looked everywhere, even under my bed!” you cried, sad that you’ve now to wear some of the guy’s hoodie in a failed attempt to comfort you. “how am i going to sleep in peace? I can’t buy another hoodie, not when that one have so memories of good times.”

your friends stayed quiet, feeling bad when they have no solutions to your problem. all of them thought for a while, wondering if there is a way to solve the mystery.

“wait! what if you are sleeping walking?” one of the girl suggested, bringing everyone’s attention towards her. “your sleeping form probably hide your hoodie someway you can’t find while awake. so why not set your webcam on to caught you?”

the idea was great, but not their suggestion to your sleepwalking. after classes, you set up the webcam camera to let you catch whoever is behind the missing hoodies (and panties, but you omitted this part from them) and now, you’ve just to wait for the mystery person to show up when you went to attend classes.

with you attending classes for the rest of the day, daisy waste no time to raid inside your apartment by the window. her eyes grown bigger when seeing another hoodie with your scent just laying on the bed.

jumping into the mattress, daisy couldn’t resist the smell of your perfume all over the sheets and so, she began sniffing it and moaning your name while hugging one of your pillows, clearing imaging that is you instead of the fluffy pillow.

“[name]…” your scent never leaves her nostrils, not with her body almost melting into your sheets to become one within it. “you change your perfume, didn’t you? now, you smell even more perfect. just like flower in the middle of the springs.”

she wishes to stay inside your apartment forever, watch your life while hiding inside the wardrobe to protect you from the dangerous people who dare to touch you inappropriately. but, she can’t do that. daisy has the goal of graduating, becoming a famous artist to be the breadwinner when she marries you in a soon future.

feeling her body gain extra energy, daisy leaves your bedroom by the window, but not before grabbing a few personal items to her shrine. completely unaware that her actions were recorded by her own object of obsession.

when you return home after a long day of studying, you become surprised to see daisy roaming all over your room. seeing her stealing the dirty underwear from the laundry basket and even laying down at your bed! oh, is that weird?

yes, but your heart speaks otherwise. watching the recording of the loner girl invading your privacy to her own likes and doing all of her perverts acts makes you feel good, something that you never felt to someone else.

she is so pretty when sniffing your belongings! anyone else would find it weird to see someone doing that, but not you—you find daisy quite cute doing it when thing no one is watching… perhaps, will she go even further if you let her steal more of your stuff? you hope so.

since that day, you began leaving the bedroom messier than before. clothes scented by your usual smell are long gone from the wardrobe, the newly used toys that you’ve brought to tease yourself after classes go missing too. you can only imagine what daisy is doing with those presents you have left behind.

➽ with the exams and classes over, a beach party is thrown to celebrate the end of the semester and of course, you were invited and daisy waste no time to followed you around the party, hiding in the shadows to protect you from anyone who dares to hurt you. the black haired girl doesn’t know that you are aware of her presence, making things even more interesting.

➽ daisy admirers your body dancing in the middle of the room, but at the same time, feeling guilty to be looking at you with lust just like the others. deep down, she knows that she is no different from those who dares to look at you like you are some prey to be tasted, however, daisy isn’t the type to let it go of you so easily.

➽ after dancing for a long time, you decided to rest at one of the rooms upstairs and daisy waste no time by following you. inside of the suite, daisy enters the room in silence and scan the interior, simultaneously looking for a place to hide and your whereabouts. despite her eyes looking at each corner, the black haired girl doesn’t can’t find you anywhere. did she imagined you walking here?

➽ before any reaction could take place, daisy found herself ensnared in surprise, arms wrapping around her small body, putting her into an embrace. cheeks fully red when she realize that it’s you who is holding her, feeling your breath behind her neck. is this really happening? this can’t be a dream, daisy is praying for this to be real.

➽ “daisy, daisy, daisy…” she let her guard down, letting you freely take advantage of the situation to hug her body. “i never expected to see you around here. but, i can’t deny that i am really happy to see you here.”

➽ she doesn’t move. her body stay in place when feeling your hands getting down at her black shorts, untying it to let your hand roam free around inside her panty. it’s makes her body squeal when a finger touch the tip of her clitoris, making her almost melt with it.

➽ “hmm—“ before any of her moans could take over the room, your lips meet hers, dragging her into daisy’s first kiss. it’s feel weird, she thinks, but at the same time…it’s better than she ever imagined! she lets you take control over her body, knowing that you have more knowledge than her.

➽ daisy could feel her body get redder and hotter by the instant you push her to the bed, wasting no time to unbutton the plaid shirt to display the cute black bikini and then to remove her bikini bottoms to take a closer look at her cunt. the night haven’t start and she is already dripping.

➽ a smile slowly make to your lips. to think that daisy was probably so overwhelmed by this situation makes you wonder about how aroused she is. “don’t worry, sweetie.” your finger touches her clit, rubbing it against her walls, but not taking too deep to hurt her. “i’m going to be gentle, okay?”

➽ she nodded. “j-just touch me, please—” there is tears coming out of her eyes when a finger of yours manage to touch a soft spot of her inner walls, words are replaced by whimpers. as you continue to pump your two fingers inside her, daisy couldn’t hold her voice back. it didn’t took much to her moans to echoed all over the room and would probably reach downstairs too if the songs aren’t that loud.

➽ a high pitched scream warned about her incoming orgasm. her cum all over your palm when she finally stops squirting, attempting to regain her breath, cheeks full of redness as she musters enough courage to lift her face and meet yours.

➽ her trembling hands move to hold your hips closer to hers, not leaving a space between your bodies when daisy managed to speak. “can w-we continue it? please, i really need you.” the shyness and embarrassment of her face is gone, replaced by obsession and desire. and you are loving it.

➽ you couldn’t be happier seeing daisy right below your body, ready to take anything you have been planning for the past couple of weeks, even if those things could lead to dangerous acts. she is right inside your palm, ready to be played and loved by you only.

➽ “really?” your hips began to move, dirtying your bottoms with daisy’s fluids and making her whine a bit. “if that’s what you want~” playing with her perky chest, a smile make it way to your lips when going down to her lips, leaving a fainted mark of lipstick on her. “then i will make it an unforgettable night for you, daisy.”

@moonit3 writing

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere female #yandere girl #yandere x female reader #yandere female x female reader #yandere wlw #yandere headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere x female y/n #x female y/n #x female reader #female reader #my oc daisy #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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tmpestuous · 2 years

Text

Six Days

Summary: You make the effort to avoid Bucky during a mission after he upsets you in an argument, but things quickly take a turn for the worse.

Pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight mentions of torture/hydra experimentation, blood, canon level violence, hurt!reader, sad!bucky

a/n: welcome to my first (real) post! i haven’t written in a long time so my apologies if this is a bit rusty. this was inspired by an excerpt on a post i saw and decided to turn it into a prompt:

“He held her face in his hands.

‘Do you think I care about anything but you?’”

You were on edge.

This was the first mission in a long time where you hadn’t spent the night before with Bucky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms, and waking up with another before heading off. Your regular routine almost happened. It would have happened if it hadn’t been for the argument that happened just about five minutes before you were ready for bed, an argument you deemed unnecessary and frustrating the second you stormed out of Bucky’s room and back into the one you barely spent any time in anymore.

Not having that routine definitely threw you off your game. After dealing with a restless night and a series of tosses and turns, you decided to just stay up until you had to leave.

Biggest mistake you could have ever made, you thought.

You packed everything you needed and, first thing in the morning, walked straight into the kitchen to fill up a thermos with a lot more coffee than you’d ever drink on a normal day before heading off to the quinjet launchpad without a word. Everyone else eyed you as you walked out; your usual, greeting nature was replaced by a silent one, a sight no one had seen since you first joined the Avengers. Once you exited, everyone’s eyes quickly turned to Bucky who had walked in just as silent. Though it was less rare for Bucky to avoid conversation, the two of you being separate was the clear elephant in the room.

Bucky looked up to meet everyone’s gazes on him, his brows furrowing immediately in annoyance.

“What’s the problem?”

“Something going on between you and Y/n?” Sam asked without hesitation. He beared witness to the entirety of your relationship with Bucky, especially since he was often assigned to missions with the both of you. If anyone could tell something was off, it’d be him.

“She’ll get over it,” Bucky replied monotonously before also heading out to the launchpad, everyone else straggling out shortly after.

You were already sitting in your normal seat inside of the quinjet, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone to distract yourself from the eyes that would eventually fall on you as you heard everyone else approaching.

Though you were still angry, Bucky was not. In fact, he was more angry with himself than he was with you. He didn’t even think he was upset with you at all, but he was convinced you thought otherwise.

Finishing a shower after an intense sparring session had never felt better to you.

You had been with the Avengers for about two years now, picking up on more useful ways to use your fighting abilities rather than always being so destructive. Old members of Hydra, who decided they wanted to somehow reinstate and resolidify the organization, had taken you–along with more people than you could count on both of your hands–to be experimented on with a serum similar to the ones used on Bucky and Steve. After managing to escape, you had definitely lost a piece of yourself. It took a while to warm up to the thought of fighting alongside such honorable people, but after two years, you had found your home.

The first year and a half was strictly training and shadowing anyone who had gone on a mission. You were eager to prove yourself as being part of the team, and in the last six months, Steve and Tony had agreed to allow you to not just shadow missions, but be part of them. You had just finished mission 26 as being “part of the team” two days ago, and Steve had stopped you before your workout with Natasha to let you know that he thinks you might be able to do your first solo mission.

That news definitely kicked your motivation into overdrive during sparring. Natasha’s never been one to go easy on you, per your own request, and was riding on a 10-0 streak against you.

That streak got broken fairly quicker than she had expected.

Upon finishing your workout, you were most excited to tell Bucky the news. He had been there the whole ride to see just how hard you’ve worked to get to where you are today, especially sharing the experience of being under Hydra and struggling to use your abilities for the right reasons.

But for some reason, things just didn’t go as you expected.

And it hurt. Really hurt.

Bucky stepped on the jet and gave you a quick glance. Everyone else had taken their usual seat, meaning the only one available was the one he always took right next to yours. He sighed deeply to himself before sitting down, seeing you immediately cross your arms across your chest from his peripheral vision.

This was definitely going to be a long trip.

You didn’t say a word to him the entire ride. Not even so much as a shoulder or thigh touch. You kept your stoic nature for all of the ten hours you were sat next to him.

Bucky was losing his patience, and the only person he blamed was himself. This might have been the first day in the year and some months that you’ve been together that you hadn’t said a single word to him, and it was eating him alive.

It was most definitely eating you alive too, but you couldn’t get the argument you two had out of your head.

Bucky was starting to pack his things when you had walked into his room, his attention quickly diverting to the door and onto you, shooting you a soft smile.

“You’re back already?” He asked, knowing you always took a hefty moment to yourself to relax after sparring with Natasha.

“You are now looking at the woman with a singular victory against Agent Natasha Romanoff,” you said confidently with a playful victory bow, making Bucky chuckle as he stood up and made his way over to you.

Standing up straight to look up at him, Bucky cupped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. “I’m so very proud of you, baby,” he said with his lips grazing yours that had just pulled into a small smile.

“I also might have really good news,” you said in an eager tone, which Bucky noticed and loved immediately.

“What’s the good news?” He asked right away as he wrapped his arms around your waist, wanting to hear your excitement. After seeing you have so many losses, with yourself and others, he knew you took every win very seriously. You reminded him of himself when he first joined the Avengers as well, and knew just how difficult it was to adjust and get even just a glimpse of triumph.

“Steve pulled me aside today and said he thinks I might be ready for solo missions,” you responded as you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck. “He saw how well I did during the last mission and wants to see how I do alone. He just wants Tony to agree first.”

Bucky’s face dropped slightly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked rather than answering his question, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

Of course you thought you were ready. You had prepared long enough for this and knew you could take on the challenge. You also thought that Bucky of all people would be able to recognize that and agree.

“You’ve only been on 26 missions, honey,” he contested. “It took me a lot longer than that before I was even able to handle a mission with just Sam.”

“So you think that I can’t go on a mission by myself because it took you longer to adjust than it took for me?” you asked incredulously as you pulled out of Bucky’s grasp and took a few steps back.

Bucky ran his hands over his face in frustration. He knew just how stubborn you were; he had seen it mission after mission and debrief after debrief. You were never one to stand down from defending yourself and your decisions. However, you had never been so persistent with him over anything beyond a playful dispute between the both of you.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Y/n, so can we table this conversation and go to bed?” he bargained with you softly.

You scoffed. “You just patronized me by implying that I’m incapable of handling a mission on my own and you want me to ‘table the conversation’?”

Given your tenacious anger, you knew it’d be best to not say anything at all until you felt a lot calmer about the situation. You had surely pondered if you were just overreacting, but Bucky’s words still hurt you.

He was never one to patronize you or make you feel like you couldn’t do something. In fact, it had always been the opposite. To hear that he felt you were incapable of taking on something you felt you were ready for had stung you harder than any other accusation ever thrown at you. He was the man you loved, the one person on the team who you trusted the most, and he thought you were unprepared.

So you avoided him. The jet landed and you gathered your things and walked right past him. You got lucky that Clint couldn’t come on the mission anymore and you could take his room so you wouldn’t be stuck with Bucky for the entire week.

Bucky had felt like he was stabbing himself in the chest. He couldn’t sleep the entire night. This seemed to be a mission of firsts for the both of you, including the first time you were both on a mission and slept in different rooms since you’ve been together.

The next morning, Bucky felt he made it worse. He wandered over to your room before it was time to meet everyone else, knocking on the door loud enough for you to hear it but not make himself obvious in the hallway.

You opened the door, looking right at him though Bucky felt like you were looking through him.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded softly. “I know this isn’t the best timing—”

“Then maybe we should wait until we get back, don’t you think?” you interrupted, your voice a bit raspy from the lack of communication with anyone.

“I can’t think straight on a mission knowing that you’re upset with me, baby,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. You knew he didn’t want to upset you, but you also didn’t want to direct your anger towards him. It was the one thing you had both promised to each other. “Please?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Bucky,” you replied sternly, your use of his name feeling like a knife through his back. “Can we just do this after?”

He nodded, not wanting to prod you any further than your limit. He whispered a soft “okay” before walking back to his room.

That was the last you spoke to each other before everything happened.

Your mission started off smoothly. You were paired up with Steve, who wanted to monitor you a bit closer while on a mission to further confirm his confidence in you. He also didn’t want to pair you with Bucky when you had tension with each other, wanting the mission to go successfully and without distractions.

You and Steve would take the fifth and sixth floor of the building to locate the files you needed to extract. Natasha would take the third and fourth floor, Bucky and Sam the first and second. Tony would be eyeing the outside perimeter for extra threats and also spotting Natasha a helpful eye, though everyone knew she could handle herself well.

After fighting off a few straggling guards, you found the file you needed. The only problem was the faint beep, beep, beep you heard somewhere in your vicinity. Steve was keeping watch outside, fighting off the backup that was eventually called when they realized you were here. You couldn’t locate where the sound was coming from, but you knew it wasn’t a good one.

“Hey, Steve, you busy?” you said, the hint of fear in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, hearing your tone. You could hear his shield bouncing off the walls as he responded.

“I’m hearing a beeping noise from in here and I can’t find it at all,” you said as you kept tearing the room apart carefully, not trying to accidentally trigger anything.

“What do you think it is, Agent?” he asked, and you knew he was trying to turn this into some sort of test like your life wasn’t probably at risk.

“The only possibility is an explosive of some sort,” you responded, trying to hide the irritation in your voice from still being monitored on a mission like a child. “I can’t really make out where it’s coming from and it’s nowhere that I’ve searched in the entire room, so it’s probably hidden somewhere.” The beeping then started at a quicker pace, only making your nerves go into overdrive.

“I’ll finish up out here and then help y—”

Boom.

“Rogers? Y/l/n?” Tony spoke anxiously into comms.

“What the hell was that, Tony?” Bucky asked immediately, not liking the tone in his voice while he said both yours and Steve’s names.

“Explosion on floor five. Rogers and Y/l/n aren’t responding.”

“Y/n? Steve?” Sam tried to reach out. Nothing.

“All I’m getting is static, guys,” Natasha chimed in. “I’m headed up.”

Bucky jolted into the staircase, running faster than he could even process. He eventually caught up with Natasha, Tony and Sam both flying in from either side of the building to the fifth floor. The entire floor was filled with smoke, though the hallway was a bit clearer than the room you had been in alone.

Natasha caught a glimpse of Steve, who was thankfully conscious, as he tried to lift himself up with a a cough to expel the smoke from his lungs. Tony helped him up and Steve immediately caught Bucky’s eyes, filled with anxiety he hadn’t seen in him in a while. He then looked at the door and Bucky understood that you were in there.

He knocked the door in with no hesitation, though something was blocking his entry. Steve and Tony made their way over to help him push the door, moving the cabinet that had been flung across the room with the impact of the explosion. Bucky slipped through the door, blue eyes scattering across the room until he saw your hand sticking out from behind some debris. Using his metal arm to lift up the equipment that had fallen on top of you, he moved it over to the side before kneeling in front of you. He noticed the large piece of shrapnel sticking into your abdomen, a fairly large blood stain tainting your suit and your breaths extremely shallow.

Your eyes were half open as they landed on him, though your body desperately wanted to fall out of consciousness.

“Hey, honey, I’m here,” he said as your eyes glossed over.

You felt too weak to talk, it hurt just to breathe with the impeding metal in your stomach. The one moment you wanted to say something to him and you couldn’t.

“I’m here, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here,” he said as his eyes stayed firmly on you, his ears tuning out Steve directing Sam, Tony, and Natasha to prepare for an emergency evac back home. “You’re gonna be okay, everything’s gonna be okay.”

Bucky cupped your face lightly, running his thumbs across your cheeks carefully over a few cuts. His face and tears streaming down his cheeks was the last thing you remembered seeing before the darkness reeled you in.

It had been six days.

Six days since you all successfully evacuated the mission. Six days since they removed the metal from your stomach safely. Six days since they found out the extent of your other injuries from the blow. Six days since you had been unconscious. Six days that Bucky hadn’t left your side for a second.

He had already regretted everything he said to you the night before your mission, but now he felt like he had made the biggest mistake of his life by even upsetting you. Bucky knew you probably wanted to cool down, memorizing all of your coping mechanisms and the way you communicated your feelings. But something in his head told him to talk to you sooner, and he only wished you had let him before everything else fell apart.

He hadn’t slept in the six days you’d been unconscious. You had suffered such a serious head trauma that the doctors in the medical wing of the compound were surprised your scans came back clean. On top of the fractured ribs, the wound in your stomach, and the broken leg, everyone had already known you were a trooper.

By the sixth day, Bucky’s eyes were finally starting to get tired.

He fought sleep off as hard as he could, not wanting to take his eyes off of you for a second. Sam had come in several times throughout the week to bring him food to eat, though he could barely finish any of it. Steve had urged him to go shower every day, promising to watch you and alert him if any changes had happened, pleading with him until he finally agreed. Bucky would rush to shower and immediately ran back as he had finished and gotten dressed. Steve would just give him a pat on the shoulder and a longing look, knowing he couldn’t push any more out of his best friend who was watching intently over the love of his life.

Bucky laid his head on the small space on the side of the bed next to you, his thumb running soothing motions back and forth on your hand as his solemn, blue eyes watched you take small breaths in and out with your eyes sealed shut. His eyes then pulled him into a slumber, one he didn’t even remember falling into.

After a few hours, he felt you shuffle a bit on the bed, shooting his eyes open and seeing you rub your eyes with your free hand, his hand still intertwined in your other one.

“Y/n?” he spoke softly, your eyes redirecting to his face and a small smile creeping on yours.

“Hi,” you said groggily. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

Bucky sat up and shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby. I’m just glad you’re awake,” he reassured as he let go of your hand and moved his to rest on your cheek. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you joked in a tired voice. “How long have I been out?”

Bucky sighed, though he was glad you were feeling well enough to be playful. “Six days,” he answered. “You had a lot of injuries.”

You nodded slightly. “What about the mission?”

“Natasha and Tony took care of it,” he informed you. “They stayed behind while we evacuated to finish and found a copy of the file. Mission successful.”

You nodded once again, biting down on your bottom lip as you knew there was still unresolved tension between you and Bucky. He noticed it too, but he didn’t think it was the right time to talk about it. Not right after you woke up.

A few days later, you had been discharged from the medical wing and had gone back to your room. You had told Bucky you wanted to go back to his, but he had insisted it’d be better for you to rest in yours.

He stayed with you the first few days you were in recovery, though he didn’t sleep next to you. It hurt a bit, but you had at least felt comfort in knowing he was in the room with you.

One morning, you had woken up and saw Bucky sleeping peacefully on the couch chair in the corner of your room, knowing he had finally gotten rest after a few days. You stayed watching him and he met your eyes immediately when you woke up.

“Hey,” he said in the raspy morning voice you knew all too well. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you said as you sat up a bit in bed, to which Bucky moved to your side to help you do.

“Don’t exert yourself too much, Y/n,” he warned in a light tone. “You’re still recovering and I don’t want you to prolong y—”

“Buck, I’m okay, I promise,” you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes. His normal, cerulean eyes were a bit more clouded. They looked more gray in the dim lighting of your room, but you could also make out the sting of sadness in them.

The longer he looked in your eyes, the more tears formed in his. “I could have lost you,” he said with a crack in his voice. “I almost lost you without making things right with you. I’m never gonna forgive myself for that.”

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, Bucky—”

“No,” he cut you off this time. “I can’t wait any longer, Y/n. It’s eating me alive and I want to make things right with you. I need to make things right with you. Everything that went wrong on that mission only made everything worse. You could have died while being on bad terms with me and I’m never, never, going to let that happen again. Do you understand me?”

You nodded slightly, tears quickly glossing your eyes as well while a tear slid past Bucky’s. He cupped your face in his hands, wiping the tears that fell down your cheeks with his thumbs as you started to play with your fingers in your lap.

“Do you think that I care about anything in this world but you?” he said, a noticeable shake in his voice while he didn’t break eye contact with you. “There is nothing that compares to you in my world. Nothing. When I heard that explosion and Tony say your name, it felt like my heart dropped. I don’t want to experience that again. Especially if I’m not with you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “So you mean—”

“I said what I said because I’m too scared not to be with you, Y/n. It’s wrong and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I felt you weren’t ready to be on your own. You’re more than ready and I was clouded by my own fears and patronized you when you didn’t need that. I can’t lose you, I can’t picture what the rest of my life would even look like without you in it. But my fears should never come in the way of your accomplishments that you deserve and earned, honey. Never. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m sorry that it took everything that happened for me to say it to you.”

If the tears weren’t falling from your face before, they most definitely were now. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s torso and sobbed into his chest. He was crying too, but he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed small circles in your back to soothe you the way he always did.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs. “I didn’t want to fight with you, I just—”

“Shh,” Bucky comforted you. “It’s okay, baby, I know. I didn’t want to fight with you either, it’s on me.”

You pulled away slightly to look up at him once your sobs died down, sniffling a bit as he looked down at you with all the love and adoration he’s always had for you.

“Promise me we’ll never fight before a mission again,” you urged softly, and even though your tone was slightly playful, Bucky knew you were also half serious.

“I promise, baby,” he said, kissing your forehead twice. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

You nodded as he made his way around the bed and slid next to you, carefully wrapping his arms around you as you both laid down and enjoyed each other’s warmth again.

__________________________________

thank you so much for reading! i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading my first piece!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #sad!bucky #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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acciopietro · 2 years

Note

Ok so I just read your “Bad Idea” smut and it was amazing! Can you do one where the roles are reversed? Like y/n has the sex pollen infect her?

combining with request #2: Hey 🧍🏻‍♀️ this is my first time ever requesting smut so- I feel super awkward 😅, I was wondering if you could write Pietro maximoff eating (fem?) reader out on a couch (or gn reader, anything you want :)

a week’s isolation - p.m.

pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! reader

summary: the strange plant thor brought to earth from asgard is housed in the lab on the upmost floor of the compound, it’s pollen safely contained; your room, however, is right below it. too bad they forgot to seal the vents.

word count: 3,878

tw: smut smut smut. oral (f receiving). apologizing in advance. both parties are 18+ and consenting adults!!!!

a/n: takes place in between the age of ultron/civil war era. pietro and wanda are adults but still young! i haven’t written smut in such a long time so forgive me for the long time it took to get this posted. i get embarrassed when writing shit like this so it takes me twice as long since after every word i have to close my computer and take a lap around my room. hope u enjoy :)

“DOES EVERYONE UNDERSTAND?” FINISHED BANNER as he stood before the team, his face flushed and his eyes wide. Pietro had been half-listening for the first portion of the man’s speech, but at the sound of the words “highly dangerous” and “do not go near it”, his interest had been inevitably piqued.

Pietro fiddled with the string bracelet on his wrist, eyes drifting across the long, meeting table. You were sat next to the head of the table, hair daintily curved along the edges of your face, hands folded on the edge of the table, lips pressed together in thought. He blinked before he could get too lost in you; it had happened before and he didn’t feel like getting caught staring again.

A chorus of yes’s and head nods washed over the team, followed by a short moment of awkward silence as they individually considered the strangeness of the situation that was now in their midst. Pietro sent a tired glance to Wanda, who rolled her eyes and mouthed Pay attention!

“I need you all to seriously recognize the dangers this plant might cause,” Banner went on after the group gave their half-assed acknowledgements of their understanding. “Thor brought this here on accident, and it is only he and other Asgardians that are immune to it. We’re only trying to find a proper, safe way of disposing it, maybe even using a way to harness it’s pollen without... well, killing ourselves.”

“Why can’t Thor just bring it back up to Asgard?” Barton asked, scratching his chin. Shifting in his chair, he said, “I feel like that should be discussed.”

“The issue with that, Barton, is that it’s pollen has already begun to cling onto other things. Our plants, here on Earth, need some kind of vector to move their pollen from place to place, like insects or wind. On Asgard, or at least with this plant, it’s very different,” Banner explained. “The pollen acts almost like a virus, one that clings onto surfaces and grows. We don’t know how to kill this virus, so it’s harder to manage than normal pollen.”

Pietro watched you raise your hand; always so quiet, so polite, you were. It was endearing, he thought, watching you always behave so accordingly. The only time he ever saw you lose yourself was in the heat of a fight, when fists would fly and guns were drawn. It was a treat to see you in such a state, a rarity.

“Y/N? You have a question?”

“The pollen isn’t spreading into the compound, is it?” you asked carefully, something in your voice telling Pietro you were nervous. “Should I be worried?”

“No, we’ve done our very best to contain it,” Banner reassured you; Pietro watched your shoulders deflate. “As long as you all stay away from the lab, you’ll be just fine. And anyone who enters the lab will need to wear facial coverings. I’d even go as far as to say we should invest in more hazmat suits.”

“It’s not that extreme, is it?” Steve Rogers asked in disbelief. “I mean, hazmat suits? C’mon, Banner, what’s the big fuss?”

“The big fuss?” Banner gave a dry scoff. “The big fuss, Cap, is that if you’re exposed to the pollen, it’ll make your mind go into such a sex-driven frenzy that you’ll lose touch with goddamn reality! Do you want that? Because I seriously doubt you want that!”

A wave of silence washed over the room. Steve pressed his lips in a thin line, his nose dusted pink, and said nothing in response, only slowly shaking his head.

“We get it,” Natasha Romanoff spoke up after everyone spent a moment of clearing their throats and adjusting their chairs. “Stay away from big, scary plant.”

Bruce opened his mouth to keep going, but Tony Stark placed a hand on his shoulder.

“They get it,” Stark said. “We’ll change the password to the lab, anyways. J.A.R.V.I.S. will make sure no one goes in.”

All the members fizzled off, going their separate ways. Banner, Stark, and Thor ventured up towards the lab, the latter the only one not donned in a white hazmat suit. Wanda scooted her chair closer to yours, nudging your shoulder.

“Interesting, huh?” she commented. “Wonder what they do with them in Asgard.”

“S’probably like a drug,” Pietro chimed in, dragging his chair towards the two girls’ and sitting backwards on it, legs spread, hands dangling on the back of the chair. You crossed your legs, one folded gingerly over the other, the glossy black toe of your Mary Janes brushing his knee. “No doubt they get a shit ton of that pollen stuff and sell it.”

“I thought Asgardians were immune to it?” you said. Pietro paused.

“Well, maybe if they take a lot of it, it’s like that weird stuff you Americans have. Viagra. Helps it stay up, you know,” Pietro joked, to which Wanda whacked him on the shoulder. “What? Just a hypothesis.”

“Don’t be so crude,” Wanda chastised him. You giggled, the apples of your cheeks rose dusted. Pietro’s lips curled up at your reaction; you glanced over at him, matching his smile, before glancing back down at your lap. “Let’s just stay away from the lab for next few weeks or so. Play it safe.”

“I wanna see it,” Pietro ran a hand through the icy blonde tips of his hair. Your eyes widened a bit. “I’m curious now, y’know? I mean, what’s a sex plant supposed to even look like?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Pietro,” you told him carefully, the sound of his name rolling so easily off your tongue that he almost felt goosebumps trail up his forearms. He smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” he finished the quote for you, raising an eyebrow. Your lips twitched, shaking your head a bit and looking away from him. Wanda rolled her eyes, patting you twice on the knee before standing up, strawberry-blonde hair tucked behind her ears.

“I’m going to find Vis,” she announced, the leather of her red jacket swishing against her waist. “I’m tired of this plant talk.”

“Your loss,” Pietro called after her as she walked off. She turned around and stuck her tongue out childishly before lifting a single hand; with a swirl of red light, the door slammed shut behind her. Glancing back at you, Pietro grinned. “You can’t tell me you’re not just the tiniest bit curious.”

“Of course I’m curious,” you told him, leaning forward a bit in excitement as you shifted around; the scoop neck of your black tee sat low on your chest as you moved, and he fought to keep his sights on your eyes. “But, it’s not worth the risk. Not in my opinion, at least.”

“Yeah, well,” Pietro shrugged. “Maybe I’ll grab ahold of one of those hazmat suits and head in there myself. Just to take a look.”

You sent him a look and sighed, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Pietro gave a toothy grin. “Oh, Y/N. When have I ever been stupid?”

---

THE NEXT MORNING, PIETRO WAS bewildered to see you absent from the kitchen. Typically, you’d wake up way before he did, and he’d find you sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea or coffee and a book, silently reading. Vision sometimes would join you, or on certain days when Peter Parker would come round, Pietro would find you chatting away with him at the table. This specific morning, however, you were not there. Vision was sitting on his own, a copy of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden in front of him; a cold cup of coffee was sat in front of the empty chair.

“Buna dimineata,” Vision greeted in Sokovian, not looking up from his book. Pietro rubbed the sleep from his pale eyes and glanced at Y/N’s empty chair. “I presume you are curious as to where Y/N is.”

“Where is she?” Pietro asked, retying the white strings of his plaid blue and silver pajama pants. Vision glanced up at the cold cup of coffee, staring at it until it lifted into the air and carried itself towards the sink, dumping itself out and sitting on the chrome interior of the sink.

“I poured that for her, but she had yet to arrive,” Vision explained. Pietro furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest where the white tank top he wore to sleep was wrinkled up. “I sought for Captain Rogers and he revealed to me that she’s been quarantined to her room.”

“Quarantined?” Pietro repeated, the word sounding uncomfortable on his tongue. He cursed under his breath before tentatively asking, “What for?”

Vision closed Walden and set it down on the table, letting out a simple breath and shifting his eyes to meet Pietro’s.

“It seems that the laboratory and Y/N’s room share an air vent,” he said. Pietro said nothing, not following. Vision stood up, tucking the chair back under the table and holding Walden with one hand. “They sealed off that mysterious plant, however they seem to have forgotten the air vent underneath the desk it’s planted on. That air vent just so happened to empty into Y/N’s room.”

“The pollen,” Pietro pinched the bridge of his nose. “O, la naiba...”

“So it’s just wise, according to Banner, that she is confined to her room,” Vision gave Pietro look, bowing his head forward as though he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. “Which means you must leave her alone until she has recovered.”

Pietro let out a sigh before moving his eyes away from version, clenching his jaw and thinking; maybe there was a way he could get into your room without getting infected by the pollen himself, even if it was just to talk with you. The idea of you being all cooped up there by yourself made his heart clench, but he also couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the effects the pollen was having on you.

“Pietro,” Vision said, and Pietro met his eyes. “Do not try and see her. We don’t know how much pollen is still in that room.”

Pietro rolled his eyes and left the room, not letting Vision interrupt his brainstorming. Banner had been extreme in his warnings about the effects, but how sexually-frustrated could the damn thing make a person? Besides, you were tough. He was sure it wasn’t too bad.

And it wasn’t. But after a week, he started getting anxious. Your room was entirely off limits, the only people going in out being Banner, to asses the situation, and Steve Rogers, to talk to you. You had always been close with Rogers, however, Pietro wished Banner could lend him one of those masks so he could see you.

One evening, Pietro couldn’t sleep. The more he laid in bed, pale eyes staring blankly at the white ceiling, the more he thought about you, cooped up in your room and probably in an unimaginable amount of pain. It had been a week and change already, and this isolation was sure to be driving you mad. He swung his legs around so he was now sitting on the edge of his bed, and he paused.

Maybe this is a bad idea, he thought to himself as his legs carried him towards his door, Like, a really bad idea. He hand was still clasping over the doorknob and twisting, despite that little voice in the back of his head asking if this idea of his could potentially end badly.... or, he could end up helping you out. He couldn’t imagine being isolated for so long.

By the time he reached the outside of your bedroom, he paused, his knuckles hovering over the wood, hesitating to knock. He could hear you from outside, moaning and groaning in pain. His heart ached and he knocked.

The moaning stopped and Pietro gulped. “Hey, dragă...”

“Pietro?” you asked from inside. “You shouldn’t...” you paused, and he heard the sound of your bedsheets rustling. “You shouldn’t be near here...”

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to see you.”

“Banner says it might be contagious,” you replied sadly. He could hear you frown. “I don’t want you to catch it.”

“It’s been over a week,” Pietro rolled his eyes. “I doubt it’s still airborne. Most viruses don’t last in the air for that long.”

“I guess,” you fell silent. More rustling. Pietro sighed and put his hand over the door knob. Taking a deep breath, he twisting and opened it.

You were a sight to see, that’s for sure. Half your body was covered by the white comforter, and the parts of you that weren’t were clad in a small tank top and small pajama shorts. The ceiling fan was on top speed, and there were two other fans propped up in the room, each pointing towards the bed.

Your face was a bright red, same with your chest, and your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of your face. But your eyes, that had previously been half-lidded, widened considerably when you saw Pietro open the door before you threw the entire blanket over yourself.

“You can’t be in here!” you shrilled. “You’ll catch it!”

You felt a hand grasp onto the blanket, slowly pulling it down and off of you. Pietro, his hair tousled by his hand and his lips curved into a gentle smile, let out a small laugh.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m, like, superhuman. I think I’ll be okay. Let’s go get some water.”

You hesitated, letting him slide the blanket off you. You clenched your jaw, cheeks flushing scarlet as your eyes raked him up and down; he was clad in a thin white tank top that was maybe a size too small, and white-and-blue pajama pants that hung low on his waist. Taking a deep breath, you swung your legs over the bed and got to your feet.

You walked behind him, scared to get too close. Pietro could see your hesitation to the leave the room, as well as your hesitation to touch anything.

“C’mon, dragă,” Pietro laughed at you. “It’s okay. I feel fine. You’re not going to get me sick.”

“We don’t know that,” you took another heavy breath, keeping your eyes off of him. The flushing of your face made it hard to breathe and the twisting in your lower abdomen was making your head whirl. The muscles of his back flexing every five seconds as he reached up in the cabinets for a cup was not helping. You gulped. “I need to sit down...”

“All right,” Pietro glanced back at you, holding the two cups of ice water. “You okay?”

“None of the medicines work,” you mumbled, hesitantly taking the from him. He sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, staring at you. You felt your neck get hotter and glancing down at your lap. “I just gets worse.”

“What does?” Pietro asked curiously. “What’s the issue? Nauseous? Headache?”

“Erm,” you took a shaky breath and squeezed your legs together. “Hard to explain. The plant, the one from Asgard that did this... it’s... it’s kind of odd...”

Pietro raised a brow. You had a death grip on both your cup and the couch cushion. Face beet red, you took a sip from your trembling hand, avoiding his inquisitive stare.

“How so?” Pietro asked.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled. “Banner said it’s got these, like... coitus pheromones? I don’t really know what that word means, but he refuses to elaborate.”

It was Pietro’s turn to feel his cheeks grow hot. The word was the same in Sokovian, and he knew it was a fancy term for sex, but he was shocked that you didn’t know. You were supposed to be the smart one.

“Y/N... you don’t remember what it means?” he asked carefully. You shook your head.

“Do you?” you asked, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. Pietro bit the inside of his cheek. No wonder you were gripping the couch like a lifeline. This whole time, he had assumed you were moaning and groaning because of pain. His chest felt hot. “What’s it mean?”

“It means sex, Y/N,” he told you slowly. “If Banner says it’s got “coitus pheromones”, that means it’s like... it really is like alien viagra. Like I had joked about before…”

He saw your eyes grow wide, your chest beginning to rise and fall with greater speed. You averted your eyes away from him in almost an instant, pressing your lips together in a thin line and shrinking back as though to pretend he were not there.

“Great,” you mumbled. Pietro shrugged.

“S’not like you didn’t know what it did,” he said honestly. “You’ve been feeling like this for more than a week, you’ve had to have some idea. Probably driving you up a wall, huh?”

You gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah.”

Pietro stared at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. “I could help you. If you wanted me to.”

You gave him a very odd look, brows furrowing just a bit. The air felt warmer, as though someone had turned off the A/C. “What?”

“You heard me,” Pietro muttered, and now it was his turn to shrink back, his back hunching. “Only if you want...”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you mumbled. Pietro pursed his lips.

“You’re not,” Pietro said simply. “I’m asking you if you want me to help you.”

“I...” you bit the inside of your cheek, and he watched you take a deep, steady breath. “Of course I want you to.”

“Well...” Pietro trailed off, staring at you, awaiting your word. His knees were practically touching yours, the head radiating off of him making you grip the couch tighter.

“Well, what?” you asked. His hand left where it had previously rested on his lap and latched onto your knee, sliding upwards at a snail’s pace.

“Can I?” he asked softly. “Help you?”

You glanced down at where his hand rested on your thigh. Back up at his eyes. Jesus christ.

“Yes.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his lips twitch upwards, a half-smirk half-smile fighting to curl onto his face. You didn’t bother dwelling on it, though, considering you were too focused on the fact that his other hand was on your other thigh, his hands sliding up and down your leg leisurely before coming back down onto your knees.

He pushed your knees apart, his calloused fingers digging into your bare skin, pale blue eyes never leaving yours. You took another shaky breath, swallowing anxiously. He lowered himself off of the coffee table he had been sitting on, kneeling in between your knees. His fingers crawled up to the fabric of your pajama shorts, tugging on the hem.

“Y’know these gotta go, right?” he asked rhetorically.

“Mmhm,” you gulped and did nothing for a second, but as he continued to tug on them, you took the top elastic and pulled it down until it reached his hands. He did the rest of the work, discarding them beside where he knelt.

Your underwear was a light blue, which just so happened to be Pietro’s favorite color (this was a coincidence, you swear). He hummed in approval and spread your knees apart wider. His eyes darted down, spotting the darkened patch of fabric right over her sex. He gave a smirk and snapped his eyes back up to yours again.

Saying nothing, he brought his hand closer to you, running his index finger up and down the darkened fabric. You shuddered. He was barely putting pressure on you, but it seemed the pollen was making even the slightest touch feel a million times more intense than it was.

“These also have to go. As much as I like ‘em,” he said, tugging on the azure fabric of your panties. You felt yourself smile a bit.

“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, but grabbed the hem and pulled down down. Pietro grabbed them off of your ankles, and lifted them up in front of his eyes.

“Can I keep these?” he asked. You kicked him with your foot.

“Creep,” you said. He chuckled and put them on top fo your discarded pajama shorts. “Can you please just...”

“Just do what?”

You huffed and mumbled something unintelligible. He pressed his thumb to your clit rather harshly, moving in small, quick circles.

“What was that?” He asked as you gasped, hands grappling at the edge of the sofa. “What do you want?”

“Everything,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering. Pietro hummed.

“Well, I don’t have time to give you everything, but I can give you a... what do you call it? A taste?"

And then, before she could say anything more, he dove forward and pressed a kiss to your clit, eliciting another gasp from you. He skillfully traced his tongue up and down the length of your slit before returning to your clit, where he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You slithered a hand down to tangle in his hair, grasping at the white-blonde locks.

“Christ, Piet,” you breathed. You felt him smile before he lifted his mouth up for a second, licking his lips. Locking eyes with you, he brought himself back down to trace circles around your entrance with his tongue. Without a second to waste, he brought his hand up and plunged his index finger inside, pulling it out to only shove it back in over and over again.

Your head fell back onto the cushion of the couch, back arching, one hand grappling at the back of its foundations while the other grasped onto Pietro’s hair. Pietro’s eyes flickered back and forth between your half-lidded eyes and the finger that was moving in and out of you, and with a rush of adrenaline, he shoved his middle finger inside, too.

Curling his fingers, he brought his mouth to your clit. “Close, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” was all you could find words for, the combination between his fingers and his mouth making your vision go blurry and your mind go blank. “Uh-huh.”

“C’mon, dragă,” he coaxed, his words slightly muffled by his lips being pressed to your clit. “Give it to me.”

Back arching, the coil inside of your lower abdomen finally began to unravel at high speed, body spasming over his long fingers as pretty moans slipped from between your lips. Pietro was grinning as he sucked at your cunt, feeling your velvet walls tighten around his fingers as you orgasmed.

When the noises from you ceased, and your breathing began to slow, he pulled his fingers out and sat upright. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and just as they locked, he put his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. You shivered.

“Feel better?” he asked casually. You paused.

“Yeah,” you said in shock. “I actually do.”

“Told you,” he smirked. You smiled at him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” he replied, getting off his knees and sitting beside you, handing you your underwear and shorts. “Would’ve done it even without the pollen, y’know.”

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow. He gave a firm nod. “I’ll have to take you up on that, then.”

translation:

“Buna dimineata.” - Good morning

“O, la naiba.” - Oh, damn it.

“Dragă.” - Darling, Sweetheart, Love

taglist:

@childishnewt @mcximffs @minbeatriz16 @slvtforfictionalcharacters @kaqua @thorrealgf @pagesbetweensheets @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @niallhoransupremacy @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777

a/n: this is painfully unedited im sorry.

4K notes · View notes

somejazzinthemorning · 8 months

Text

tightrope. 11

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warning: Mature content Word Count: ~18K

It takes a lot to understand the truth when it is covered under years of hearing the same words. The word exploded around me, in screams and chants, confetti and champagne, but it all felt dull because when the phone rang the following morning, it was not “Papà” that was written on the screen.

It was not the day before, either. Or the days that followed.

Monday morning. 10 hours past the race, and Dad had not called.

Rio called right after the podium. The words tumbled from my lips, breathless and infused with the rush of adrenaline when I picked up the phone from Rocco’s hands and accepted the call. Racing down the pitlane, phone pressed to my face, I could feel the dampness of champagne against my skin and Rio’s voice erupting from the other end of the line, from the other side of the world.

“Eva! What the hell?!”

I was shaking—every cell in my body reverberating with the thrill of what we’d just accomplished. Time seemed slowed down, every detail around me sharper, more vibrant. My skin was covered in goosebumps, a mix of elation and disbelief coursing through me. My lips tasted of champagne, the sweet fizz lingering on my tongue. As my eyes flickered around the pitlane, taking in the sight of the small crowd of mechanics waiting for us at the end of the pitlane, the flags waving on the stands and the vibrant colours of team gear in the pitlane, a loud chuckle left my trembling lips, my fingers grip stronger on the trophy.

Reality seemed distorted, stretched over whatever material dreams were made of.

“A podium finish, Rio! A fucking podium finish!” My words blended in the cacophony of the team’s cheers, a symphony that echoed through the pitlane, now replacing the sound of the engines that had filled the air for the past six hours.

Ahead, Alexei, Alessandro Bianchi for more official affairs, set the pace. His legs were so long and quick it seemed like he was almost running. He was the one driving the car during the final laps. As for Henrik and me, we spent those last laps in the garage, our attention fixated on the car and the unfolding Corvette narrative. Shifting from that nail-biting tension to becoming drenched in a cascade of champagne, it was the blink of an eye.

Henrik's arm found its way around my neck, playfully pulling me into him. His tall frame towered above mine. “Time to drop the phone, DiMaggio. Let’s join the fiesta!”

“It’s my brother. Give me a minute.” I looked up, meeting his frowning face. “Promise you. Just a minute.”

Henrik was Finnish, had hair as fair as sunlight and eyes as blue as the ocean. He just nodded, and then I freed myself from his pull, walking to the side, finding support in the pit wall.

“I knew you could do it, ‘Vita. Sooner or later!” I pressed the phone against my ear, attempting to amplify my brother’s voice. “Get your head right, and everything else will fall into place. Look at what you just did.”

“I drove for less than 2 hours—”

“And you put the car exactly where it needed to be.” There was a genuine awe in my brother’s voice, something that I wasn’t quite used to listening to. Dad wouldn’t react this way. As a matter of fact, he didn’t react at all. “Those overtakes! That place must be going wild for you right now.”

I laughed, looking ahead. Alexei was climbing a mechanic’s back, his 36 years of age eclipsing as his face went full of joy and he looked like a child.

“Yeah. It’s… pretty insane.”

“The race ended less than half an hour ago and we’re already hearing your name all over the hotel. And we’re just having breakfast. You have no idea.” I’ve never heard Rio speak so fast in my life. A clatter resonated from Rio's end as if he was dragging a chair, and then his voice returned. “By the way, your timing is impeccable.”

“Why? What happened?”

My brother chuckled. “You managed to steal Carlos’ thunder on race day.”

“Shit, he’s starting on pole, right? Wish him luck for me.”

"No need to.” Oh. I was not ready to hear him. "I'm right here." A blend of excitement and wistfulness churned in my chest, a familiar pang of longing to be in two places at once. He wasn’t right there. Not anywhere close. “Man—Eva…” His voice rang again, I pictured the smile on his lips, as my name resonated. “You’re absolutely incredible.”

I leaned against the pitlane wall. Champagne dripped from my hair onto my face, the lingering taste a testament to the euphoria of the moment. I glanced upward, the raucous celebration of the team unfolding before me, champagne bottles raised high, exuberant cheers filling the air. Then, I looked down, at my wet fingers wrapped around the trophy,

“I wish you were here,” I murmured, my voice a soft whisper carried away by the wind. “Both of you.”

“DiMaggio!! Leave the phone!” Alexei called for me. In large, determined strides, he made his way toward me, holding a champagne bottle in his hand.

"I'll make sure to save some of this energy for when we reunite," I mused, my voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and longing.

“Hang up!” Alexei screamed, a playful edge to his tone as he quickened his pace. Henrik was behind him, holding another bottle. Their trophies had been left in the garage, on top of the car.

“Hope it won’t take long.” Carlos's voice, filled with warmth and affection, was the last thing I heard before the joyful chaos consumed me again, drenched in champagne and carried on my two teammates’ shoulders, back to the small crowd.

But then Monday came. With a throbbing headache and a dehydrated body, after a too-over-the-top evening packed with celebrations. My phone rang on the nightstand, and after picking it up, Nicola and Lin's faces filled the screen.

“You’ve got toothpaste on your cheek,” Lin pointed out, her surroundings showing the sturdy brick of her New York flat. She was back home, I didn’t know that. Somehow, I still thought she would be in Europe. “And congratulations on the race, by the way!”

Nicola sat in a dimly lit room, a soft white glow illuminating her face—by background noise that filled the air, I associated that the white glow was probably the glow of her TV. “I hate this time zone thing. Can’t stay long, sorry, hubby’s waiting for me in bed. What are you up to today?”

I glanced at the corner of the phone, noting the time. It was a bit before 7 a.m. It was probably around midnight for Nicola. As for Lin, it was a little past 7 p.m. I wiped away the toothpaste from my cheek and sat back on the bed, too tired to move.

“I have an interview today. At the track. In like, two hours. They’re doing tire testing, and James Anderson thought it would be a nice background for the interview.”

“James Anderson? The James Anderson?” Lin's enthusiasm was palpable as she turned in her chair, getting up from it seconds later and walking to another point in the room. The unsteady movement of the camera made my stomach churn. “Girl!”

Nicola laughed softly. “Eva, on a scale of 1 to 10, how freaked out are you?”

“A big ass 11.”

“You've got this in the bag,” Lin's voice chirped through the phone, her enthusiasm cutting through the fog of fatigue that lingered in my mind. “Unless you’re still a bit drunk from last night.”

“Just a tiny bit,” I admitted, flopping back onto the bed. The sudden motion made me feel queasy. “Yeah. Fuck. Not exactly drunk, but way too hungover for this. I don’t even know why I said yes to the interview. There’s literally nothing to talk about.”

“He did an amazing piece on the race. Well, an amazing piece on you,” Nicola chimed in. “I’ll post it tomorrow on the team’s socials.”

“That’s why Rocco convinced me to say yes.” I rolled over in bed, seeking a hint of comfort from the pillow and the soft comforter. “Why? I don’t know.”

“Get out of bed, or you'll fall asleep,” Nicola urged. “Also, get out of bed so I can go to bed.”

“You can go. I'll keep her company and help with what she should say.”

“She knows it better than you do,” Nicola was right. I was usually the one media training my clients, providing them with a bullet point list of acceptable topics and answers. So, technically, I should be able to do it for myself. But exhaustion from the weekend's efforts, compounded by a hangover, left me feeling drained. “Don’t you?”

“I do. But I’m just tired. I really, really don’t want to do this right now. I have a belly ache.”

“Eva, come on.” Lin moved again, her energy almost overwhelming enough to make me feel nauseated. “If you get nervous, just imagine the man in his underwear. They say it helps.”

I burst into laughter, the absurd mental image of James Anderson in his underwear momentarily banishing the exhaustion that had weighed on me. “Who says?”

Nicola threw her head back, laughing in response.

Lin grunted. “Them. People.”

"Thanks for that mental image, babe. I'll keep it in my back pocket."

As the laughter subsided, my eyes caught the corner of the screen. Time was passing. The interview was getting closer, and the reality of facing the camera was beginning to set in. Lin's expression turned earnest. "Seriously, Eva, you've got this. Stop overthinking. Just be yourself and ride this wave of success. You're on top of the world."

“That’s what scares me.”

And just like that, a frown appeared on both of their faces. Nicola's frown was more pronounced due to the glow of the TV in the background. Then, she clicked her tongue. “Ah, that’s why you wanted us to call.”

“Exactly.”

“And here I thought you were just missing us,” Lin teased. “Seriously, babe. You’ve got this.”

“Tell us what’s wrong.”

"It's just that sometimes…. I don’t feel like I deserve this? Like it should be harder than it is. Yeah, I can race. And yeah, I'm good at it. Pretty good. But the pressure? The questions? The idea that people are looking at me and expecting me to fail… I've been sick to my stomach just wondering what's happening next because that's what all those goddamn reporters kept asking me yesterday. And—I don’t know. I feel like my Dad is right. I'm not fit for this. ”

“What did that jerk say to you, again?”

“Lin, he’s her dad.”

“Yeah, and he was, is, whatever, my boss. Screw him, honestly. Eva, listen.” She paused and slid one of her lock braids to be back of her ear. “I hope you know he’s a loser, and everything he does and says is just a reflection of how much of a loser he is. He needs to control your life in a way he never got to control his—”

“Lin—”

“No, I don’t care. Listen.” She paused. Nicola took a deep breath, and I followed suit. “He’s your dad, I know. But I’ve been there and I’ve heard the stuff he says. I know him. I worked with Rio when we were both fresh out of college, and I've seen the way he treats both of you.” Again, I attempted to stop her, but she raised one finger. “And I've had enough. The fact that he’s your father isn’t a reason for him to be as mean as he is when things don’t go according to his plans. I've seen him blame Rio, in front of the whole team, for a storm on a test day because he should have known—”

“A test day. Yes, well, those are usually…”

“I don’t care. He’s your dad. He parades you around the way he thinks is best. What did he say this time?” Lin had a way of cutting through the noise and getting straight to the heart of the matter.

“A lot of stuff about how this sport isn’t for me and how he can’t understand my change of mentality in the last few weeks… How I fit better in an office. Just—a lot.”

“Of course he can’t. He never understood you at all. He’s not a good man, love.” She paused. “And I’m sorry.”

“But he’s my dad.”

“He is,” Nicola hummed. “But that doesn’t mean you owe him anything. You’re your own person.”

“Actually, I owe him my entire career.”

“Just because he has the money. And—Think: he never did one single thing for you that would risk his money. For heaven's sake, he made you race in The Challenge after you spent a year at home, struggling with anxiety and depression and he didn’t care if you were ready or not. The only thing he knew was that he was going to lose money if he didn’t get a driver in that seat. Rio was completely done with racing and there was no one available to take the remaining spot.”

“But I wanted to race.”

“I know you did.” Lin’s voice softened. “But like that, hun? From FRECA to The Challenge? We hoped you'd advance to at least any other regional series. Or that he would push for F3, he did it for Rio and, let’s face it, he’s not half as good as you.” I took a moment to absorb her words. They were raw, unfiltered truths that I had been avoiding. “It felt like you were back to square one. Doesn’t surprise me that you kept yourself busy with that college friend. Amanda, right?”

“Yes. And I still am. Keeps me busy. I can't have too much downtime, or else I go crazy.”

“Exactly. So…” Nicola interjected. “That’s not how it should be. You need breaks. You need downtime. You need to rest. You just had a break, and you had the time and the peace of mind to find your groove again.”

“I was in good company. In a nice place. And was busy with that said company.”

“See? So the issue is your Dad. It’s been what? Two weeks since you came back from Mallorca, and you just got a freaking podium, and now you’re struggling again because your Dad said things that made you overthink everything. You were so happy during the weekend, what happened?”

“He didn’t call. I thought I had proved him wrong and he didn’t even bother to call. And he’s my dad, you know? And now James Anderson is going to ask me stuff about the future my dad is holding in his hands. And I don’t want to answer.”

“Okay, let’s…” Nicola took a deep breath, her hand reaching for her hair and pulling it back. I sat up in bed, realizing it was time to gather myself. “You are holding that said future. Get the fuck out of bed, put on some makeup, and head to the track. Do the interview. It will go well. Don’t overthink the answers. It’s PR and you’re great at that. So just—think you’re one of your clients. And if your mind starts spiralling, Rocco is right there; I know he can keep you occupied if needed.”

Lin burst into laughter. “Oh, he can definitely keep her occupied.”

“Gross. He’s technically an employee.” I retorted. “And I bet he’s taken.”

“I’m sure Pulcini will be around, too,” Lin added, and I finally got out of bed, leaving my phone on the credenza, capturing me as I moved around the room and picked up my sneakers. “Or have we moved on from him?”

“We’re not focused on that because I’m working!”

“Can I finally go to bed? I want to get occupied, too.”

“No one here is getting ‘occupied,’” I remarked, slipping on my sneakers. “But yes, go to bed. I’ll do my makeup and head out.”

“It will go well, baby,” Lin said. “And if it gets weird, well, remember the underwear thing.”

The pit lane buzzed with activity, a hubbub of conversations and the clatter of rattle guns. Standing amidst it all, I found myself at the center of attention. The warmth of the sun kissed my skin, while in the distance, I could hear the sounds of the paddock being packed into trucks.

Before me stood James Anderson, his lanyard hanging casually over his chest, almost masking the fact that he wasn’t just another journalist, but the renowned James Anderson himself. Two chairs were positioned at the heart of the pit lane, a camera strategically placed near the pit wall, and a bustling garage composed the backdrop. Alexei and Henrik occupied the seats on the pit wall, their legs dangling, dressed in relaxed t-shirts and jeans. Matteo was in his race suit, totally recovered from the food poisoning episode, and ready to take on the test day.

The car would leave the garage in 20 minutes, so we had exactly that time. Not one minute more.

Despite the camera, Anderson held a notepad in his hand. His salt-and-pepper hair danced with the wind, uncovering his eyes, and sparking with curiosity. I noticed the subtle lines around them, testimony to the countless years spent witnessing greatness on track.

“Happy we can do this, Eva. I've been trying since your victory at Imola. Exceptional performance at the Challenge, too, by the way.”

I wasn’t aware of this desire to interview me earlier. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t aware he was even aware of my existence until he met me in the garage, after the podium ceremony.

"Well… now, we have more to talk about," I remarked, my smile flowing naturally. Anderson nodded, directing his gaze toward the cameraman, a signal to commence recording. "Be gentle with me," I quipped, playfully brushing aside my anxiety.

His laughter rang out. "No need to worry."

Casting a final glance at Alexei and Henrik, the latter waving at me just before Anderson shifted in his seat, reclaiming my attention, I took a final deep breath. This wasn't within my training regimen. I was nervous. My belly aching.

“Eva, let me start by congratulating you on your remarkable performance this weekend. You stepped in for your teammate Matteo Serra during the practice session. Could you walk us through how you adapted to the situation so quickly and what mindset you had going into the race?”

I nodded. My hands were on my thighs, fingers almost melting with the fabric of my jeans. Jesus. This was hard. On top of that, I could feel Alexei’s coal eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze travelling above Anderson’s shoulder, boring into me.

“Yeah, well. First of all, thank you,” I began, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The sunlight played across my face, warming my skin as I spoke. The journalist's expression seemed to relax, his posture slowly becoming more open. “Ahm—right, honestly, it was a whirlwind. Stepping into Matteo’s shoes so unexpectedly meant a quick mental switch. But that's what we’re trained for and what the team expects from me. I had to quickly familiarize myself with the track and the car's nuances… So, the team support was crucial, really. Alexei and Henrik were amazing the whole weekend,” I glanced towards my teammates, looking at each other, smiling. “We worked together to ensure a seamless transition, and I'm truly grateful for their trust.”

The slight tremor in my fingers betrayed the composed façade I was trying to showcase. I could feel the weight of the race weekend on my shoulders.

“Your performance during the race, particularly your amazing overtakes, drew the attention of many in the paddock.” The reporter went again. “Can you share the strategy and approach you took to navigate through the field and secure that impressive fourth-place finish?”

“Well, thank you again.” I chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mixture of humility and genuine pleasure. “I’m not used to this, I’ll admit.”

“Just being honest.”

“Okay—well… the strategy was a mix of precision and calculated risk. The adrenaline was pumping, and I was fully immersed in the race… And when the command to push came, and I realised the team trusted me, I just went for it. My general approach was to find those windows of opportunity without compromising the overall strategy… I mean, we had more pace than we expected and we had to make something out of it. We didn’t qualify great, what was a boomer, because we had faith we could qualify in the top 10. So, that not being the case, we had to be at 110%. The team did amazing with the pitstops, and the guys did amazing stints as well… And.. Since I was feeling comfortable with the car—thankfully I drive a similar car in another series, so it became a bit easier… I had to go for it. So, yeah—It's quite surreal to think about it now, but… I'm still in awe of how everything came together.”

My gaze drifted to the marks of tire rubber still visible on the asphalt. I could almost feel the energy of the cars rushing through the main straight, my feet vibrating with the phantom energy still running around us.

“You mentioned the team’s trust… DAR Racing's decision to extend your stint turned out to be a wise move since we could clearly see that you were getting gradually more confident in the car and risking more. At your level, with so little experience, how did you manage to maintain your focus and energy during that crucial period of the race? Did doubt quick in or…?”

This time, I couldn’t find comfort in the details on the pitlane. Anderson’s eyes didn’t leave mine. Curiosity glistened through his dark eyes, his passion and interest so clear. Probably he had noticed my state on the radio. The thousand questions I asked, how I pressed from lap times and places of improvement. I was freaking out inside the car. Properly. I wanted to go fast. Faster. I wanted to come out of every corner perfectly.

“Interesting point… Yeah—So…” I took a moment, my hands subtly trembling from a mix of lingering adrenaline and fatigue. My eyes flickered toward the reporter, his expression a mix of interest and empathy. “Maintaining focus and energy during the stint was undoubtedly challenging.” Pause. A small breath. “As the laps went by, I did feel a surge of confidence building within me but the team's strategy and encouragement played a huge role in keeping me on track, both mentally and physically.” I chuckled softly, a glint of self-awareness in my eyes, realizing the play of words. “But yeah—doubt is a natural human response in such a demanding situation. I’d never done anything similar. Or even raced for this much time. What was it? A bit more than an hour and a half?” Pause. He nodded. “Yeah. So. There’s a lot involved and a big part is the mental game. I'm grateful I had the right support system to keep me motivated through the race.”

Alexei's presence stretched through the pitlane, his supportive gaze feeling like a reassuring anchor. Henrik, with his elbow perched on Alexei’s shoulder, sent me a nod of approval. They were witnesses to the doubt, to the lack of sleep on Thursday night when I was notified that Matteo was on his way to the hospital, after throwing up for almost one hour straight and my body and mind couldn’t seem to handle the fact I would be driving that weekend.

They were patient. They made it possible.

I couldn’t help but smile.

Anderson, probably noticing the silent exchange, looked over his shoulder. Turning to me, another question hung on his lips. “You seem really in sync with the team. And all throughout the weekend, I've noticed that many drivers and personnel from rival teams came over to congratulate you, especially yesterday, during the celebrations. Could you speak about the role of… camaraderie and sportsmanship in your approach to motorsports?”

“Absolutely,” I affirmed with a genuine smile. “Those values are essential aspects of motorsports for me. Racing is not just about individual performance—it's being part of a larger community. Every driver—rather, every person on the paddock shares a common passion, and that creates a unique bond. I believe that mutual respect and support make the racing experience richer and more fulfilling. When rivals come over to offer their congratulations, it shows that we're all part of a shared journey. And that helps put things in perspective.” I paused, my gaze returning to the journalist's attentive expression. “I grew up with a lot of good examples of great sportsmen, from different ages and backgrounds. They inspire me to be the athlete I am. And I learn from them. I know and I’ve seen that being in sync with my team and everyone around me is paramount. And about the team… we're like a well-oiled machine, working together to achieve a common goal. The team’s trust in me and my trust in them is the key to achieving an environment where we can perform at our best.”

“What happens now?” Anderson leaned back on his chair, crossing his right leg over the other. “What are the plans for the future? Do you think this race opened a couple more doors your way?”

It’s PR, I remembered myself.

“Right now, I'm still taking in the incredible experience of this race and savouring the team's success,” I began, my voice carrying a blend of satisfaction and excitement. “Looking ahead, the future holds exciting possibilities, that’s for sure. But we still have a few races this year, so we'll continue to analyze our performance, identify areas for improvement, and build on the momentum we've gained. And as for my personal journey… I believe this race has indeed opened a couple more doors for me. It's a validation of the hard work and dedication I've poured into my career. It’s not been easy, and the road has been long and hard, so it’s positive to see how it’s unfolding. I'm truly ready to embrace whatever challenges and opportunities come my way. Whether it's stepping up to compete more regularly, collaborating with other teams, or pursuing new ventures—I can say I'm determined to make the most of the doors that may or may not open and strive for even greater achievements in the future. Whatever they are.”

“I remember seeing you in FRECA, and it was a shame you didn't have a chance to end your amazing 2019 campaign.” My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. I was not expecting to go so deep into the past. “Did the unexpected end to the season, with you not taking part in the last races of the season, have anything to do with the break you took in 2020 and the new route you took last year?”

“Yes, well—” I moved in my chair. “The end of the 2019 season didn't go as planned, and it did play a role in the decisions I made afterwards. However, the break I took in 2020 was primarily a result of some personal issues and the need to focus on my overall well-being. With the pandemic, that forced me to slow down, I realized that I needed to take a step back, regroup, and come back stronger.”

As I spoke, the memories of that challenging period flickered in my mind—the uncertainties, the doubts, and the eventual realization that prioritizing my mental and emotional health was essential. 2019 was supposed to be my big year, the breakout. Yet, it was an utter nightmare. Losing a seat over team politics and small-minded men, especially when I was a championship contender, felt worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.

“Can you elaborate a bit more on those personal issues?” Anderson tilted his head.

“I understand the curiosity, but I'd prefer to keep the specifics to myself.” Once again, the reported nodded.

"It's known you took a different route and you've not been driving full-time since then. Do you see racing as a hobby? It’s a very expensive one to have.” He chuckled. I moved in my seat.

Well, you would never say that to a man, I thought to myself.

“It’s certainly far more than a hobby for me. While it's true that my journey has taken a unique path in recent years, it's important to note that every step I've taken has been with a specific purpose.” I paused, not sure if I was truly conveying the message I aimed for.

2020 had been tough. Mom and Dad quarantining in Verona, with my grandparents. Rio focused on his heavily pregnant wife and, later, their newborn twins. Carlos was… doing his thing. And I was at home, being consumed by a monster that fed on my own sadness and self-doubt. I didn’t want to project that image. The world couldn’t know that person.

“As you know, the commitment, dedication, and effort required in motorsports are immense and it's not a pursuit I take lightly.” I continued. “As with any other driver, there are challenges outside racing. Some can handle them better than others. I felt the need to stop for a while and take it easy on myself. That doesn’t make me less of a driver.”

“Is this hybrid mode, if I can call it that, helping with those issues?”

“It helped, until now. A lot of other drivers have a business on the side, that’s just a small percentage of what I do. Did.” I corrected myself. “I intend to be 100% focused on racing next year.”

“What made you take that decision?”

“The timing feels right, both personally and professionally.”

“You’re on a high, that’s for sure,” Anderson said, his hand meddling with his pen. “Considering those challenges you've mentioned, how do you feel your experiences outside the track have influenced your approach to racing now?”

"A lot has been happening these last two years. To be honest, I’m still in the process of looking back, reflecting on my journey and reevaluating my goals. Especially these last weeks… I’ve reencountered some people from the past and it helped me to look behind… It helped me gain a deeper understanding of myself, my strengths, and the areas I wanted to work on. As a result, I'm feeling more like myself. Every good or bad thing that happens is a part of us. And it’s not a setback, it’s just a… detour. A part of the comeback, too.” Anderson smiled at my worlds, I smiled too. “This weekend showed me exactly that—that I’m still the girl I was a few years ago. All the setbacks I’ve found… All my experiences, really, have taught me the importance of balance, resilience, and essentially mental well-being, which I believe are essential not only for success on the track but also for overall fulfilment.”

“And as for the future? Could you tell us a bit more about the specific goals you're aiming to achieve with DAR Racing and in your motorsport career moving forward?”

“And as to the future…” I paused. “My focus is on continuous improvement and pushing my limits. And working on myself. I'm fortunate to be part of a team that believes in my potential and supports my growth. Right now, my goal is to contribute to the team's success, while also aiming to achieve personal milestones, of course. It’s all very in the open, to be honest. As I said, I'm dedicated to making the most of every opportunity and showcasing my abilities. Ultimately? I aspire to compete at the highest level, as any other athlete."

"Highest level?” His eyebrow pointed up. “What do you exactly mean?”

"Competing against the best. Motorsport offers various tiers of competition, and my ultimate goal is to eventually reach the pinnacle of motorsport, whether it's in Formula 1, endurance racing, or any other top-tier championship.” Anderson seemed surprised. I cracked a laugh and he followed. “Doesn’t hurt to dream, does it? I’m aware this journey requires consistent dedication, hard work, and especially the right opportunities. I’m just leaving it in the open." I shrugged.

"So, the single-seaters aren’t out of the question?"

"Absolutely not! Formula 1 remains a dream—more than that, a goal. While my current focus is on endurance racing, I wouldn't rule out the possibility of pursuing a career in single-seaters if the right opportunity arises.”

“That’s bold.”

“Can’t settle for less.”

Anderson laughed and extended his hand in my direction. “That’s the spirit.”

Amanda rented a small Airbnb in Berlin, paid for the company, of course, and located less than 5 minutes away from her client’s new store. The floor of the entrance hall was all boxes and shopping bags, greeting me as I arrived. On the corner, there was a small space for my shoes, the only free space, actually, which meant that I had to grab my suitcase and hover it over the boxes, to make my way to my room.

She had texted me just as I landed, telling me she would be at the store all morning and that I could use some time to sleep and rest and join her at the store in the afternoon. And despite being massively jet-lagged, I couldn’t phantom the idea of going to bed at noon. My body was completely disoriented after a twenty-hour flight that had departed from Japan on Monday night and landed in Berlin on Tuesday morning.

The concept of time didn’t make sense at all.

During the flight, I immersed myself in a sea of and stories about myself. The spotlight was glaring down on me, the expectations and anticipation weighing down my shoulders. “WHAT COMES NEXT?” plastered across every other tweet or headline. And, of course, I asked myself the same question.

Little did I realize that my little pastime was nurturing the little monster hidden in a corner of my mind, that I so desperately tried to ignore by eating cookies and Doritos and drinking whatever beverage they had available on the flight.

I’d said more than I should in the interview with Anderson, I realized.

In every other tweet, my name was linked to Carlos, to his dad and to a potential seat in F3 that I knew nothing about. On every social media post, a lot more comments than usual, especially after Marjorie’s Mallorca dump, where I was pictured with Carlos behind me, on the boat, his hand over my shoulder—what quickly became “proof” to our connection.

Too much happening in such little time.

And time didn’t make sense.

And my body ached.

And Even Amanda, whom I thought would be focused at work, was swept up in the buzz of the moment. There was a bottle of Ferrari champagne on the dinning table. “We will open it at dinner”, a small note said.

I couldn’t make tea because I couldn’t find the teapot, and heating up water in the microwave was just too low. I was tired. I needed coffee or tea, or just anything with a strong flavour and enough caffeine, and then I remembered there was a small coffee shop downstairs.

But I was just so tired, and so in need of a break, that my feet took me to the empty room at the end of the hallway and I collapsed in bed. Not to sleep. But just to take a break. To exist and listen to the silence, and to life happening outside, in some random street of Berlin.

The grip of jet lag tightened as Berlin’s heat added to my discomfort.

I rolled in bed.

And then I remembered that for the first time in more than a week, Carlos and I were in the same time zone. And life seemed a bit better. I stretched my hand to the phone. There was a message from him hanging in my inbox. “Call me when you land.”

“Oh, you were quick to pick up,” I said, my voice laced with traces of tiredness.

He chuckled on the other side of the line. “Yeah, it seems I can’t go too long without hearing from you. Is the flat nice?”

“It's cozy. Going to be an interesting experience sharing the place with Amanda for a few days. I had to perform some serious parkour moves just to get through the entrance because the hallway is packed with boxes. She’s not exactly the tidiest person.”

Carlos laughed softly. “As if you could talk.”

I playfully sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Virgo, if I don’t live up to your standards.”

He chuckled again, the sound soothing and familiar. "Well, just make sure you don't trip over any of those boxes. I need you whole when you get back."

"I'll do my best," I replied, a grin sneaking onto my face despite the fatigue that still clung to me. "How's your day been so far?"

We fell into an easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. His words were like a balm, easing away the remnants of jet lag and anxiety and replacing them with a sense of connection that stretched across the miles. He was still in Italy, getting ready to fly for Zandvoort. It would be a packed week, apparently. Starting on Wednesday, all the way to Sunday. And then repeat all of that for Monza, the next week. At a certain point, he started complaining about Rio and his insistence on taking Team 55 to dinner to celebrate Carlos’ birthday, and then spending midnight together, have a drink and toast to another year.

I would be at said dinner, but that surprise was something Carlos didn't need to know just yet.

Between stories of Amsterdam and Zandvoort and how Spa had gone for him, we finally reached the topic. Japan. The podium.

“About that,” Carlos's voice echoed warmly through the phone's speaker. I settled deeper into the comfy pillows, his words soothing away the fatigue that had clung to me since landing. "You won't believe it, but he couldn’t shut up about you. I've never seen Rio so damn proud as he was on Sunday," he confessed.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "That's a first," I replied, my voice laced with amusement. "I think he'd sooner admit to believing in unicorns than admit to praising me.”

Carlos chuckled softly, and I could almost picture the affectionate smile on his face. “I barely saw him at the garage. He was around… networking, as he put it. Even took some notes from Caco.”

“He better take lessons from the master. Guess I'll have to rely on him since I don't have Dad to do it for me anymore.” Carlos cleared his throat, and it sounded like a gentle reprimand. “What was that for?”

“You would do it even if you were alone.”

“I don’t have the people skills for that.”

“You do,” he quickly interjected. His words hung in the air, and I scrunched my nose, the silence between us perhaps conveying more than words ever could. “Are you having doubts?”

I pondered for a moment, my body shifting in bed as if searching for a more comfortable posture to handle the subject. “Hm. It’s too late for that,” I began. “I mean, it's all done now, you know? I've adjudicated all my clients to other colleagues. My agenda is clean. I've sent my resignation letter. I’m just tying up some loose ends now.”

“That’s good,” Carlos said, and then a heavy silence enveloped us once more. It felt like a looming shadow, draping itself over me, heavy and dark. “Isn’t it?”

“It is. It just…” I hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Yes?”

“I’m… apprehensive.”

“Okay…” I heard him take a deep breath, and I closed my eyes, yearning for his comforting presence. “Why? What’s going on inside?”

A warmth spread through me, knowing that he cared enough to ask these questions. “Do we really need to have this talk?”

“Yes.” His response was firm, yet there was an undeniable gentleness in his voice. I felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of vulnerability and relief. God. How much I needed him right there at that moment. “I don’t want you to carry the weight of this change alone.”

Something shifted inside me, a sense of support that I hadn’t fully acknowledged before. I let out a sigh, feeling a strange weight lifting off my shoulders. The liberty to be human, and act like myself. To have fears, and doubts and to have the liberty to be vulnerable and share them.

“It’s been a lot, you know?” My voice cracked as my throat seemed to become small. I paused for a second, just to hear him hum on the other side, encouraging me to continue. “I can’t visualize it. I can’t see myself there, because I don’t feel like there is. I feel lost. And tired. People expect me to know what I want. To know the way. To be fierce and decisive, but I'm not that person. At least not now. I'm seeing her again, but I'm still... lost. I have this… thing. An anxiety that lives here, that I can’t put on hold.”

“Eva—”

“No, let me finish. I have more than enough reasons to know I’m kind of good, to know I’m good. But there’s something screaming that I’m not great. That I’m not enough. That I should have never stopped, that I should have started racing sooner… I mean, take my interview with Andeson.” I paused. “I said too much, people are talking and going deeper into my life, and stalking my socials and making theories about everything. I have people liking photos from 2015, for heaven's sake. And I’m refusing to go on Twitter because I don’t want to read what they’re saying.”

Carlos chuckled, his voice soothing. “That's how it goes, love. It shouldn't be that way, but it's unfortunately part of the package. Remember that’s not what matters.”

“What happens on the track is what matters,” I asserted.

“Exactly,” Carlos took a deep breath before continuing. "I know you like being in your bubble, Eva. I do too. But unfortunately, I'll have to share you with the world if we want a chance to keep your name in their mouths. And we need that chance because you deserve a great seat for next year."

I sighed, understanding the weight of his words. "Share me, huh?"

He let out a playful sigh. "Let me be a bit selfish here. I just got you back, and now I'll have to share you with the world? Unfair."

"Is it really that hard to bear?"

Carlos replied in a teasing tone, "You have no idea. Sharing you with the world? Torture."

I chuckled, his playful tone bringing a sense of lightness to our conversation. "Well, I'll try to make it as painless as possible for you. Besides, you'll always have a special VIP pass to my bubble."

He chuckled, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'll hold you to that. Now…” he hesitated. "I have to leave in… 20-ish minutes. Nap time for you?"

I sighed dramatically. "Yeah, I guess I can squeeze in a bit of sleep."

"Good,” He paused. “You need rest"

"And you're not mad about me missing the GP?"

There was a short pause before he answered, his voice sincere. "I won't lie and say I'm thrilled, but I understand. Work's work, love. And I’ll have you in Monza. We'll have our celebration whenever is possible."

I smiled, warmth flooding through me. "Thank you for understanding, even when I'm disappointing your birthday plans."

He chuckled. "It’s okay, bebé. I'll survive the birthday blues. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. And get enough rest."

"I promise," I said softly, gratitude filling my voice.

“I’ll call you tonight.”

“Counting on it.”

I nestled back into the pillows, my mind finally quieting down as I let sleep claim me once more. Our conversation replayed in my thoughts, a reminder that no matter the miles between us or the challenges we faced, our bond remained.

“Carlos’ birthday is tomorrow,” I said. On the other side of the line, Marjorie's affirming hum tickled my ear. “What do you give a man that has everything?”

Marjorie's voice crackled through, a touch raspy and warm. “Really good head.”

I haltered, trying to muffle a chuckle and glanced discreetly at the man on the opposite side of the counter. I couldn't help but wonder if he overheard her audacious suggestion; it was practically impossible, but his stern expression made me second-guess.

“Let’s keep it a little more PG, shall we?” I whispered, my words barely escaping my lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of a watch. You know, like a normal person.”

She giggled, unapologetic. “Yeah, your denial game is strong.”

“You wouldn’t buy it even if I tried.” I think I sounded more annoyed than I expected, and Marjorie’s quick reply and tone did indeed confirm it.

“True. So, why deny it anyway?”

I shifted my gaze to the abstract painting on the wall, and then to the display filled with bracelets and watches. The light refracted on the screens, glistening and tempting me to pick one of them up. I approached one of the displays. One of the Rolex watches seemed to smile at me.

“It’s complicated,” I murmured.

“That’s your favourite word.” She paused, the silence a bit dull, but I wasn’t sure of what to say. “But you don’t need to say a thing, you know? It’s pretty darn obvious what’s going on between you two. Seriously, even standing five meters away, it’s nauseating.”

“Marge, don’t—”

“Eva, I get it. You want to take things slow, bla bla bla, I know your speech, already. It’s the same for every boy. Nut come on! It’s Carlos! I know you always liked him. And even if he was a stranger… I mean he’s still Carlos Sainz.” She sighed.

“You won’t shut up, will you?”

“Never.” She paused for a second, and when I thought I could speak, she started again. "We all were in Mallorca, and I've seen enough walks of shame to spot one. And it was almost suffocating near you during Blanca’s dinner. The tension was absurd.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. At least stop being weird about it.”

“I’m not weird about anything. I called you just want your help to choose a gift for his birthday and you didn’t even let me talk yet. Are you and Rio giving him something?”

“Yes. Your brother is giving him something, not sure what, honestly.”

“You’re really trusting him with that?”

“It’s his best friend. If he fucks up, it's his responsibility.” She quipped and then cracked a laugh. I chuckled silently, my eyes drifting through the small collection.

“Going back to my gift…” I brought the conversation back on track.

“Yes…”

“I left the store to go pick up some food for lunch and I found a cute little shop on the way,” I started. It was much more than "cute"—it was truly a hidden gem in the heart of Berlin. “I was thinking of something vintage, you know? A watch… with a leather bracelet, maybe. And I don’t have much time to waste because I’m leaving today to Zandvoort and I can’t get there with anything.”

“He has a collection of watches, Eva.”

“He has literally a collection of everything,” I sighed. “Hence the challenge. I want to stand out.”

“Well, I told you one way to stand out.”

"I'm trying to be a little more sophisticated here," I retorted.

"Oh, do you need suggestions for a no-smudge red lipstick?" Marjorie countered, her suggestion dripping with mischievous wit. “I can help with that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Babe, you showing up there will be nicer than any watch.”

I hummed, my feet tracing the store floors, walking the steps I’d already walked twice or thrice that evening. before calling Marjorie, I’d spent ten minutes in there, staring at the watches, and despite loving the atmosphere and the feeling of all my senses being captivated by the allure of history, I was in need of going back outside and getting some food.

Every piece was a good pick.

Each one with a story of its own, sparkling under the soft glow of the display lights, their gears whispering secrets of forgotten eras, waiting to be unveiled by its new owner.

I picked up a beautiful antique Rolex with a leather strap, the rich aroma of aged leather mingling with the fragrance of nostalgia that permeated the air. It exuded an air of sophistication, and I could already picture him wearing it under the brim of his race suit.

“I’m sending you a pic on WhatsApp.”

And after I did, Marjorie's voice came through the phone, breaking my reverie. "That one is lovely.”

“But it’s so… normal.” I sighed, feeling torn between the classic elegance of the leather bracelet and the desire to find something truly unique for Carlos.

"It’s a Rolex.” She deadpanned. “I swear to God, it’s been years since I married into this family and I still can’t relate to you all. But yeah, somehow I get what you mean. But it's Carlos. He doesn't care about extravagant."

“But I do.”

“Miss,” the shop owner's voice interrupted our conversation, and I turned to face him with a polite smile. "I'm really sorry to disturb you, but we’re about to close.”

I nodded apologetically at the shop owner, realizing that I had been so engrossed in my conversation with Marjorie that I hadn't noticed the time. "Of course, I'm sorry. I got carried away… Marge,” I talked into the phone. “I’ll call you later, ok?"

"No need to apologize," he said kindly, gesturing towards the watch in my hand. "You seem to have a good eye for these kind of pieces. Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

"Well," I hesitated, glancing back at the watch and the man before it put it down in its place. "I'm trying to find a birthday gift.?"

The old man smiled understandingly, his eyes glistening under his round glasses. "Well,” he looked at his watch. “I can spare a few more minutes to help you, miss. Is it for a friend? A family member?"

"A friend. He travels a lot, he’s a racing driver… So I was thinking of something like a watch or a bracelet, something practical that he can carry around or just… something to have at home…? I mean…” I paused, my eyes wandering through the counter, my iris meeting the shiny screens of the watch under the store lights. “He has tons of watches, and now that I’m thinking about it, he’s not a guy to wear bracelets. It’s… a challenge.”

The old man's face lit up, a raspy smoker's chuckle leaving his wrinkly lips. "Ja, I know how difficult it can be. What does that friend value? What does he like?" The man leaned against the counter, his wrinkly hand holding onto the sturdy wood, while the other one traveled to the pocket of his cardigan.

"Meaning, I think," I replied, my fingers tracing the edge of the polished wooden counter. "He has basically everything already, so it's difficult to find something. Not that he's hard to please. Not at all. I'm just very picky, even when it comes to gifts for other people."

"Meaning," the old man mused, his eyes scanning the shop's interior. "You mentioned he's a driver, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "How about something that combines his love for racing with a touch of nostalgia?"

I furrowed my brows, intrigued by his suggestion. "What do you suggest?"

The old man's eyes gleamed with excitement as he led me toward a large leather album, slightly bigger than A3 paper, resting on a wooden display stand. "I was a big motorsport fan back in the day," he began, his voice carrying the weight of cherished memories. "I even traveled to America to watch some good old NASCAR races. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to meet many drivers and collected a few things people find valuable now."

With his permission, I opened the album to reveal a treasure trove of race posters, each one meticulously preserved and adorned with signatures from drivers and team owners. The pages were filled with a rich tapestry of racing history from various series.

"Oh, are these race posters?" I asked in awe.

The old man nodded proudly. "They are all signed, by drivers and team owners, from a variety of racing series. Perhaps a poster from Le Mans from his birth year? Or... what does he drive? What does he enjoy?"

"Formula 1," I replied. And then I looked up to him. "Maybe a poster from the Spanish Grand Prix of '94, if it's available?"

The old man's eyes sparkled with recognition. "Ah, the Spanish Grand Prix of '94. That was a memorable one. I think it’s in there somewhere."

As I stepped out of the shop, the poster and a frame we picked after were inside a carton box, with a lot of tape around it. It would survive the flight, I hoped. I couldn't help but notice how picturesque Berlin looked that afternoon. The sun cast a warm golden hue on the architecture, turning even the most ordinary scenes into works of art. I adjusted my sunglasses, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city. Cobblestone streets wound through neighbourhoods that seemed to have their own stories to tell.

With each step, I felt a little more grounded, the rhythm of my strides syncing with the beat of the city. People passed by, their conversations forming a melodic backdrop. Laughter spilt out from sidewalk cafes, and the aroma of various cuisines filled the air.

Eva: “weird to think that i once thought germans were the prettiest europeans”

Marjorie: “a loooot of layers to debunk there��

Eva: “they were mostly football players and sebastian vettel. not that many layers.”

Marjorie: “vettel? wow, that’s soooo surprising” Marjorie: ”no one would EVER guess your taste in men”

Eva: “yeah? what’s my taste in men then?”

Marjorie: “former red bull athletes that raced/race for ferrari?” Marjorie: ”duh”

Eva: “you’re so annoying”

Marjorie: “did you get the gift?”

Eva: “yes”

Marjorie: “what did you get?”

Eva: “ill show you later”

Marjorie: “ok, now you can stop overthinking and focus on the handsome spaniard waiting for you and the amazing birthday sex he's in for”

Eva: "omg” Eva: "can’t believe you’re a MOM”

Helping Amanda at the store helped me more than I wanted to admit. I liked being busy. I needed to be busy. Spreadsheets and checklists were the perfect escape from the stress accumulating in my mind. I needed that, the sense of being in control. And if I felt like I was not totally controlling my career, still being discussed online, at least I could be in control of numbers and store openings.

"Last project as a team?" Amanda's voice reached me, her back turned as she meticulously arranged fake flowers in a jar. "I finally saw your interview last night. Full dedication to racing, starting next year."

I leaned against an unopened box, half my size, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the cardboard's surface. "Yeah, I've mentioned this to you before.” I took a break, using the seconds to take a breath. “I mean, I gave you like 70% of my clients."

She finally turned around, a plastic sunflower hanging from her fingers. "Yeah. I know. But I gotta admit, I half-expected you to stick around. Keep a client or two... Just in case."

A bead of sweat trickled down my back, my palms slightly sweaty as I wiped them against the cool fabric of my shorts.

"To be honest," I began, my gaze meeting hers. "No, I'm not entirely sure. But I don't think I ever will be. It just feels like something I need to do, you know? Stop doubting and take the leap."

She continued to observe me, her expression thoughtful. "And if it goes wrong?"

"Then I start over, just like I did a few years ago.” I settled onto an ottoman chair, taking a deep breath and picking my bottle of water from the side table. “Difference is: I have my own resources now. I have money. My money. I can travel, I can afford to try. I won't be relying on anyone else, this time."

"At all?" Her question carried a weight that made me frown. "I've seen the news. I've seen Twitter."

I rolled my eyes. "Ah, Twitter."

Her gaze remained steady on mine, unwavering. "So, are you two together or not?"

I sighed, a mixture of frustration and exasperation bubbling up. "Amanda, for once, I want to be my own person. To pursue my own dreams on my own terms." Stepping forward, I brushed my hands on my shorts, attempting to get rid of the sweat. "He's my friend, a really good one. But we’re talking work, not personal life."

She persisted, her tone unwavering. "Let's delve into the personal, then."

Turning away, I picked up a couple of the already empty cardboard boxes. "Honestly, I'd prefer if we didn't," I mumbled, carrying them towards the trash.

After ensuring Amanda wouldn't spontaneously combust from store-opening nerves, and after hearing her apologies for the intrusion, I bid farewell to Berlin. Every checklist and spreadsheet was printed and laminated, ready to be used for the inauguration. The gift boxes for the guests were carefully arranged on the counter and all the frames and backdrops for photos were set.

The airport buzzed with its customary end-of-August throng, yet, the line at security wasn’t so long.

As I dumped my belongings into the tray, the soft clinking of metal snagged my focus. My gaze drifted down, catching the glint of a tiny golden steering wheel illuminated by the airport's harsh lights.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips, swallowed by the surrounding crowd.

I’d been carrying it around since I’d left the track, half-drunk and drenched in champagne. I recalled being wearied by the day's events, too tipsy to recall the basics of Japanese and to walk in a straight line. I also remembered stumbling upon a souvenir stand near the track, my eyes fixating on those sparkling keychains. They had looked so delicate and golden, so artfully crafted that one might mistake them for actual gold if not for the 3000 yen price tag dangling from them—just shy of 20€.

Purchasing it had stirred up memories of our old tradition, those times when we'd strive to find the quirkiest gifts for each other. Snowglobes, magnets, postcards—each trinket carrying memories of the places we'd visited without each other.

"have fun at your dinner, soon to be birthday boy," I sent him a text as I settled into one of the seats by my gate.

Upon landing, a mirror selfie greeted me. There he was—a playful rogue, fresh out of the shower and sporting nothing but a strategically draped towel around his waist. A pout adorned his lips.

And as the caption: “i’ll try, but i’m feeling pretty lonely out here”

A one-shoulder black top draped over my frame, the asymmetrical neckline cutting the line of my chest. The wide linen pants I wore flowed gracefully with each of my steps, their relaxed fit exuding a laid-back vibe. My pants were cinched at the waist with a black leather belt, adding a subtle touch of edginess to the outfit. I reapplied my make-up in the Uber, after dropping my suitcases and the frame at the hotel lobby. Rio had arranged everything—a schedule so meticulously programmed that I couldn’t believe it was programmed by him.

I soon found myself standing outside the restaurant, my phone in hand as I dialled his number. Amsterdam was bursting with fans and tourists, nothing out of the ordinary for a night at the end of August, nearing the Grand Prix. Lost while observing the small crowds tracing the streets, I only noticed my brother’s familiar grin when he was close enough to trap me in a hug.

"Eva!" he held all the pride of the world in that hug.

"Hi," I laughed lightly. "Hey! I kinda need to breathe, you know?"

He released me with a sheepish grin, eyes sparkling with affection. He kissed my cheek before taking a step back. "Sorry, I’ve been saving this hug for a while now. And wow… The lipstick. Suits you.”

I put my hand on his chest, over the buttons of his dark green polo. “You're not looking too shabby yourself.”

His laughter echoed, genuine and carefree, as he linked his arm with mine. “Well, I do try to keep up appearances once or twice a year.”

“For birthdays and Christmas?”

“Yeah. Something like it.”

We strolled into the restaurant together. The anticipation of the evening hung in the air, tugging in my belly. God, what’s this feeling?

“What did you tell them?”

“Oh, you know—” Rio scratched the back of his neck. “Something about needing to take a call?”

I burst into laughter. "You literally managed to secretly arrange a flight and extra hotel room but couldn't come up with a more believable excuse for this?"

Rio joined in my laughter. "Hey, it worked! No one asked too many questions."

"Fair enough. Where’s the table?”

“At the back,” he pointed at an arch in the brick wall of the restaurant. “Have you spoken to Dad?”

“Not tonight, Rio,” I replied, pausing for a moment and turning slightly to face him. “Can we talk about all that tomorrow? It’s been a lot. I just want to eat something decent, rather, drink something decent and have a good time.”

He kissed my cheek. “Sure. I’m proud of you. Just remember that.”

Carlos was seated facing the archway, and my gaze was drawn to him the instant Rio and I stepped through it. It took Carlos a brief moment longer to register our presence. He was engrossed in conversation, his brows knit together as he spoke animatedly, his hands dancing with fervour as he talked. The room seemed to grow silent as my eyes focused on him. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, his gaze met mine.

And the world went completely silent.

His lips curved into a smile that transformed his features, smoothing away any tension. He seemed to be filled with light and I felt so weightless, I felt I could have floated through the air like a feather—it wasn't the sensation of falling for him; or falling for each other, but rather the exhilarating feeling of ascending together, drawn irresistibly toward each other's orbit.

And I felt at ease.

Rio playfully tugged at my arm, drawing me further into the restaurant. "He's so ridiculously in love," he teased with a knowing grin, watching his best friend, already getting up from his chair.

A wistful smile touched my lips, my heart echoing with silent questions. The words hung unspoken in the air, a gentle whisper carried by the currents of emotion that flowed between us.

It was warm and cold at the same time. Too much happening and nothing at all.

“Fuck off,” I whispered. My brother just laughed.

My steps quickened with each heartbeat, a subtle urgency pushing me forward, almost outpacing my brother’s pace. I had to consciously force myself to walk slowly and not betray my haste to reach the table. All the way, my eyes didn’t leave Carlos, already on his feet, his hand resting casually on the back of his char. Effortless attire—whitewashed jeans and a simple T-shirt. His hair was a charming mess, tempting me to run my fingers through the tousled strands.

Around the table, faces were beginning to light up with recognition and surprise, the gathering of friends and acquaintances slowly rising to greet us. I waved at them, “Hi! Good night,” and a soft giggle bubbled from my lips as I caught the shared amusement on Carlos' friends' faces.

“Hey,” Carlos said.

As he leaned in to press a warm kiss to my cheek, the familiarity of his touch ignited a sense of comfort. He smelled nice. His hands found their way around me, wrapping me in a hug that felt both familiar and intoxicatingly new. I reciprocated the embrace, savouring the closeness while maintaining an air of casualness as if this were an ordinary occurrence.

“You’re here.” He whispered, the small sound cutting through the noise echoing in the room.

“I am,” I murmured softly, my voice carrying a warmth that was reserved for him alone. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Carlos chuckled, his breath tickling my ear as he pulled away. "What are you doing here? You must be exhausted."

"Just a little jet-lagged," I admitted with a sheepish smile, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten in his presence. “Nothing a good night of sleep and some Red Bull tomorrow won’t solve.”

"Red Bull, huh? Giving the opponents some business, are we?" Caco playfully remarked, dragging his chair to the side, to create space to add another seat to the table.

I chuckled, playing along. "Well, a little cross-team support never hurt anyone, right?"

"Alright, everyone," Rio's voice cut through our moment; by his side, two waitresses, one of them carrying a chair and the other one a set of plates and a glass. "We need another seat here, please." He motioned to the place between his and Carlos’ seats. “And bring back the menu, please, so she can pick something to eat.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, short moments after, taking my seat. “And I’ll just have some carbonara. No need for the menu.”

“Welcome back, Eva,” Caco said, before picking up the bottle of wine and filling my glass. “We missed you around here.”

The night was alive with energy, laughter, and the warmth of connection.

It felt nice to be back in the midst of a Team 55 dinner, just like it used to happen years ago when Carlos still wore yellow or orange and we were too blind to actually read through the lines. The familiarity of faces, the shared jokes and the easy camaraderie were a comforting reminder of the bonds that had formed over time, and that he was in good hands those last years.

It had been three years since the last Grand Prix I attended by Carlos' side. He was a man, now. A Grand Prix race winner. A Ferrari driver. He wore red, burning red. The Italian anthem had played for him. Not many had that honour.

The low hum of conversation blended seamlessly with the clinking of glasses and the occasional bursts of laughter. I let myself observe the group, the connection between them all, the aura around the table. It was like stepping into the past and finding home, once again.

As the clock neared midnight, Rio leaned in with a sly smile. "I think it's time for some champagne, don't you think?"

“Oh, no, I—We have work tomorrow,” Carlos’ voice was interrupted by a chorus of boos that echoed around the table. From the archway, a waitress appeared with a tray of mini burgers adorned with candles in her hands. “Oh, you didn’t!”

His laughter blended perfectly with the melody of “Happy Birthday” being echoed from everyone in the room, not only from our table but from the other ones, too. I focused my eyes on him, only to find out he was already looking at me, grin wide and eyes glistening.

“Mate, you’re getting old!” Rupert exclaimed before hugging him. “Speech!!" He called out, his strong British accent ringing through the cheers and applause, raising his glass and prompting others to follow suit.

“No, no!” Carlos shook his head, a playful protest on his lips, as the chant grew in volume. "Oh, come on, guys."

“Stop being a chicken, mate. Come on,” my brother whispered.

With a good-natured sigh, Carlos finally stood up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He surveyed the faces around the table, and then around the room, his gaze lingering on each person before settling on me, his eyes warm and sincere.

"Alright, alright," he began, moving his hands in an attempt to hush the commotion around him. "Well, uh… Another one, right? 28!” The room grew quiet, the attention of every person fixed on Carlos as he spoke from the heart. One of the waiters passed him a flute filled with champagne. He took it in his hands and nodded, before whispering a thank you. "Birthdays have always been a time of reflection for me. A time to look back on the journey, the ups and downs and whatnot, and, of course, the people who have been by my side through it all. These guys right here.” He pointed to the table with the flute. “And I can honestly say that I am so incredibly lucky to have each and every one of you with me." He raised his glass and everyone mirrored his gesture, a sense of camaraderie filling the air. "To the team, to friendship, and to the memories we've created and the ones we're yet to make."

As the glasses clinked together in a toast, the atmosphere was charged with emotion and shared celebration. Carlos took a moment to catch my gaze, a twinkle in his eyes as he added, "And to Eva, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration. Here's to you, to your podium at WEC, and to many more victories."

I felt my cheeks burning and I tried to conceal my smile by having a sip of the champagne.

“To Eva!” My brother exclaimed, his glass raised in the air, prompting the others to follow.

“To Eva!” The room chanted, as Carlos approached me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered.

“I hate you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

The combination of jetlag, wine, champagne and the events of the night had left me feeling simultaneously exhilarated and tired. As we walked back, the city lights casting a soft glow around us, I leaned into Carlos, my head resting against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me.

“Tired?” he inquired, his voice a gentle caress against the night breeze.

I nodded against his shoulder, my gaze trailing to the figures of our friends walking ahead of us. “And a bit tipsy, I think. The day just went by so quickly.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, his fingers brushing against my arm in a soothing gesture. With a warmth that seeped into my skin, he said, “We’re almost there. 10 minutes and you'll be in bed.”

“No rush, really. I still need to give you your gift and get ready for bed. Lot more than 10 minutes.”

“Okay, then…” He pondered. I looked up, noticing the way his brow furrowed playfully. A small chuckle left my lips. “Let’s say… 40, then.”

“Ugh,” I unfed, wrapping my arm around his waist, under his leather jacket. “That’s a lot of time for someone who slept like… 5 hours today.”

“You needed to rest,” his voice had that tone of concern I was not yet quite used to hearing. “Rest. Not add another fight to the list.”

“And I will rest this weekend. Just hope your driver’s room has a good couch.”

His laughter resonated in the air, the sound a welcome companion in the quiet of the night. “The best in the Ferrari hospitality.”

“I’m in good hands, then.”

We walked in silence for a little while, casually observing the surroundings. Everyone was just too busy living their lives to notice or to care he was there. It was a 5-minute walk from the restaurant to the hotel, our friends had already disappeared from view when we entered through a side door, free from the small crowd that could potentially be waiting at the main entrance.

“How was Japan?” He asked when we were racing the elevators.

I smiled, my head turning from the closed doors to his face. “Wild.” The memories of the race weekend flooded my thoughts. A chuckle escaped me as I recalled some of them. “Insane, really… I mean... The Challenge was great, and everything. But this was serious, you know? Like… WEC is serious. People saw me there. Saw what I did, you know?” He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “And this might sound super cocky, but… it was amazing.”

“Oh, you bet the world saw you. Your name rang in the paddock the whole day. And that interview you did with Anderson?”

“What about it?”

“I’m just jealous. I never looked that good on camera,” he teased, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. I laughed and followed the ping of the elevator, that now opened its doors to us. With his back turned to me, while he pressed one of the buttons, he questioned, “Am I one of those people?” Then, he turned back to me, a smug smile in his mouth. “The ones you mentioned. Do I inspire you?”

The corner of my lips lifted in a playful grin. “Do you really need to ask?" I watched as he shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. I rolled my eyes, “Well, you know… every time I see your face on TV, I think, ‘Wow, I have to learn something from that guy’.”

His laughter rang out, a sound that was as comforting as it was infectious. “That’s it? My handsome face is just a reminder to work harder?”

I matched his playful tone. “Well, either that or the fear of becoming the least interesting person on TV.” As he leaned against the wall, his body language inviting me closer, I complied without hesitation. I stepped into his space, still at a distance. ”I’ll let you pick whichever makes you feel better.”

He rolled his eyes before his gaze locked onto mine, a whole different haze around those orbs. The quiet hum of the elevator seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of us in our own world. His index finger hooked on the belt hoop of my pants, a subtle gesture that pulled me toward him. His voice, soft yet filled with longing, wrapped around me like a velvet ribbon.

“I miss you,” he confessed. “I was dying for a moment alone with you.”

“I’m all yours, now.”

His lopsided grin transformed into a mischievous smirk as he closed the distance between us. A pair of tender, delicate lips met mine, and I could feel the hint of his smile as I melted into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping my lips.

I lost myself in him, in the touch of his hands touching me everywhere, reclaiming my body and pressing me against him. The urgency grew. My fingers instinctively curled around the leather of his jacket, pulling him closer with a determined grip. His hands ventured to my lower back, drawing me nearer. We could have transcended into another dimension.

As the elevator doors finally opened on his floor, we reluctantly pulled away from each other, our lips lingering for a moment before breaking apart. The hunger in his gaze mirrored my own. With a silent understanding, we rushed through the hallway—stupid teenagers in a rom-com.

I felt the weight of the door click shut behind us as he pushed me against it, his lips already on my neck. Our perfumes mixed together, a scent already familiar, yet to which I had no resistance. I felt drunk on it. His hands left my waist to pull my top down and reveal my bare skin beneath. There was urgency in his touch, in his eyes, in the way he exhaled when he took a step back and took me in.

Under his eyes, goosebumps ran across my chest. Thingles shot up from my nipples.

Carlos ran his thumb over one of them, eyes studying the rose buds, his tongue peering between his lips. “No bra?” He teased, his eyes glinting.

“Though I might save us some time,” I whispered back.

“I like the way you think,” he replied with a low growl. The warmth of his breath touched my skin, making me shiver uncontrollably before his lips reached my breast.

To that, I would never get used. The velvet touch of his tongue, the particular way his lips seem to perfectly fit each crevice of my body. My hands came up to his hair, tangling myself in the silky locks as he suckled on my nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak. I gasped, my head falling backwards.

Electricity shot through my body, pooling between my legs.

“I want to do something for you, today," I said.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, his eyes darkening with desire. "What?" The husky timbre of his voice sent a chill down my spine, as he undid the belt of my pants. From then, to the moment they fell on the floor, was a couple of seconds.

I descended from my heels and guided him to bed, where he sat at the edge. Then sat down, gently, on his lap, my legs spreading naturally. Slightly hesitating, he reached out, and glided his palm over my back and my ass, before tracing a path down the back of my thighs. With a more urgent touch, his fingertips burning in curiosity and anticipation, he continued until his hand reached the back of my knees and with a strong motion, pulled me nearer to him. Fuck. I quivered in his lap, a broken moan escaping my lips.

He smiled. "You like that?"

I nodded, biting my lip as I felt the heat in his eyes. Tentatively, I placed my hands on his shoulders and moved again, shamelessly grinding against his jeans. Again, a low, husky moan left my mouth and his fingers dug into my ass. He was completely dressed and I was soaking through my panties.

Cupping my face in his hands, he brought his mouth back to mine. Fierce and wet. Possessive and savage. I moaned against his mouth as his hands came up to my breasts, kneading them as I rode him harder. His touch was overwhelming, and I could feel myself getting close to the edge.

"No. Wait. I—” My hand rested on his chest. “You’re making me lose focus."

My chin was locked between his fingers, as he held my face close.

"Hm?" He groaned against my mouth. "On what, baby?"

"On you," I said, between breaths, my voice almost breaking. I forced myself to stop moving, even when I felt every inch of my body under a spell. My clit was throbbing, crying for attention. "Your shirt," I commanded, and in seconds, it was flying to the floor.

The cool floor stimulated my heated skin, as I knelt in front of him. My eyes couldn't leave his face—the strands falling over his forehead, his slightly flushed cheeks, his swollen lips. I reached out, my fingers deftly working on his belt buckle, my every movement deliberate and tantalizing. Dark orbs stared at me from behind sleep-tousled eyes, desire taking them whole. Unzipping him, I let the jeans fall to his feet before touching him over his white Calvin Kleins. I could feel my mouth watering at the imprint of his erection on the fabric.

Looking up again, there was a grin on his lips.

His thumb gently traced the contour of my bottom lip, urging it to part. Without hesitation, I complied, welcoming his finger into my mouth. My lips closed around it, gently sucking as my hands explored him through the fabric of his boxers. His response was immediate; he bit his lower lip, a guttural groan escaping as I slid the elastic waistband down, releasing him into the open.

Carlos pulled himself up in bed, pulling off his boxers on his way. His eyes wandered briefly to a spot just beyond me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Panties off, baby," he commanded. With ease, he positioned himself at the centre of the bed, his legs parted invitingly.

Glancing swiftly behind me, my eyes landed on a mirror. Without hesitation, I followed his command, sliding my panties down, ensuring my reflection in the mirror granted him the view he deserved. Then, I gracefully crawled towards him, positioning myself between his legs with my knees slightly apart, my ass elevated in the air.

His cock rested against my lips. I moved in, sucking gently, as I looked up. He didn’t know where to look: his eyes flickered from the mirror down to my face to the mirror again. I moved my tongue up and down his shaft and then he finally looked away from the mirror and at me.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and throaty. I blinked up at him, confused by his words. "So beautiful," he repeated. "The way you're looking at me, the way you're sucking me off. It's fucking beautiful."

I blushed, feeling shy and exposed under his gaze. I loved the way he looked at me, with such certainty and admiration. I loved that he saw me as something beautiful. Something worth saving. I parted my lips and slid my mouth around his shaft then pulled back, taking him as slowly as I could. He tilted his head and cried out, the vibration of his voice sending a shock of heat into my core.

I smiled up at him as I shifted, angling him so he was hitting the back of my throat.

"You like this?" He asked, a grin spreading across his face. I nodded, my head moving faster. "You're going to make me come in your mouth, aren't you?" I nodded again, my eyes locked onto his. His voice was low and commanding, his grip tight in my hair. I moaned around him, pleasure radiating through me as I felt him pulsating in my mouth.

My tights moved in the air, my pussy pulsating, crying for attention.

"Baby," he called. I looked up. "Touch yourself. But don't stop. You're doing so well."

I couldn't focus on anything else but what he was telling me to do. I reached down, feeling my wetness seep through my fingers. A moan slipped past my lips as I started stroking myself, faster and faster. My clit was throbbing, begging for attention. I glanced at Carlos, watching him struggle to keep control. He looked so strained, his body tense, his torso glistening with tiny droplets of sweat. He looked so fucking good.

"You're going to make me come, baby." He groaned, thrusting deeper into my mouth. I increased the speed of my movements, my head bobbing up and down on his shaft. I could feel him getting closer, the pulse in his cock growing faster and faster.

He came quickly, his cum filling my mouth and down my throat. I swallowed, my stomach muscles contracting as I drank down every last drop. He released my hair and lay in bed, his breathing erratic. "Come here."

"He—Where?"

"Here," he said like it was obvious. "Sit on my face."

For a second, I hesitated. But then he looked at me, his eyebrow pointing up, his tongue wandering between his lips and God, how, better, why would I say no? I complied, sinking down on top of him. His hands came up to my ass, spreading me open as he took my aching pussy into his mouth. And that was another thing I could never get used to. I gasped, my hands coming down to grip his hair, now tousled and sweaty. His tongue was wet and velvety as it flicked over my clit. I ground against him, my breathing becoming ragged.

"Come for me, baby," he murmured. He was a starved man. I was his precious meal. And how good it felt to me worshipped like that. "Come on my fucking tongue."

My body shook as I came hard, my pussy clenching tightly around his tongue. He kept going, licking and sucking until I was crying out in sheer ecstasy, my hands gripping the headrest, my knuckles turning white as the sensations overwhelmed me.

I lay sprawled on the bed, my legs still jerking, tingling with aftershocks of delight, my naked form glistening with a light sheen of sweat, utterly spent and exhilarated.

Carlos approached me, his nose touching mine, making me smile. “You were so good,” he whispered just before he pressed a slow, tender kiss against my lips. My mouth parted in anticipation of his, like always. My eyes drifted closed as I kissed him back.

“Happy birthday,” I said with drunken delight.

A small humm from him was the only response I got until I felt his hands pulling me to him, holding me close to his chest. A kiss on the forehead followed that, then another, this time on the top of my head.

His hands were warm where they trailed down my back.

And then I drifted to sleep.

There was a strange weight over my belly.

A warm stream of air against my skin, rhythmically kissing my ribs. The room was dark and warm, and my head hurt. A few morning sun rays seeped through the binds, wrapping the room in a warm yet slow yellow tint. I tried to move my leg, but it was wrapped in another body. And a smile emerged on my lips.

Slowly, I stretched my hand, the touch of his hair sending shivers down my spine. Heat flushed through me when my sleepy gaze fell on him. His back rose up in perfect curves, taut muscles rolling along his spine with every breath, like waves coming ashore. My tan glowed under his brown hair, which fell in soft strands against my chest. The curve of his torso disappeared at his waist, revealing a small hollow where he had curled up against me as if he belonged there—as if that moment was what life was all about.

Hearts beating so slowly.

A silence so full of a promise of peace and security in the uncertainty.

The previous days had been so full, so messy, so… scary.

And I was never a fan of sleeping like this, especially in the summer, but if it meant to wake up to that view, my mind could change.

I blinked awake, feeling disoriented and confused. Memories from last night swirled around in my head, jumbled and hazy, until my mind slowly pieced together what happened. A long dinner, a lot of wine. Messy kisses on the elevator, even messier in bed. Slowly, the memories coalesced into a coherent whole, and I realized that I was in Carlos' hotel room, our bodies naked and intertwined. I could feel the sheets beneath me, the weight of his body against me, the scent of sex and him, in an intoxicating mixture, pulling me back to sleep.

Silence stretched around.

The sound of his breath evened out, deep asleep.

It was hot, and the logical part of my mind urged me to get up, take a shower and remind Carlos of his commitments, but against reason, I resisted the urge. Instead, I lay there, gently tracing the short waves of his hair and basking in the sight of him peacefully sleeping on my chest.

And perhaps that is what life is all about, after all.

Our intimacy reverberated in the depths of that silence that didn’t need to be fulfilled. Felt right. The weight of his body shifted, relieving mine from the warmth and when my eyes met his, he was looking up at me, a soft lazy curve on his lips.

“You’re awake,” he murmured at some point, his voice barely audible.

“I am.”

Carlos leaned in, and our lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Each brush of our lips, a moment of pure vulnerability and adoration. The brush of his fingers on my cheeks, our legs intertwined, our bodies finding comfort against each other. Wafting through the atmosphere, the deep understanding that there was no better place we could be.

“You have to go get ready.”

Carlos hummed against my jawline, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my bare skin. "I set an alarm," he murmured, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Why you’re up so early? It’s like…” He stretched his arm to check the time on the nightstand. “6.30.”

“Time doesn’t make sense,” I hummed, a tired smile on my face. He chuckled softy. My fingers danced across his skin, the warmth and softness of it inviting my touch. They came to a rest at the nape of his neck, where delicate strands of hair brushed against my fingertips, silently urging me to thread them between my fingers. “And someone was crushing me.”

Carlos nuzzled closer, a playful smile gracing his lips. "I plead innocent. It's not my fault if you turned out to be irresistibly cuddly."

Feigning mock indignation, I swatted his arm gently. “Excuse me? Turned out? ”

His laughter bubbled forth, warm and rich, filling the room with its infectious energy. He then rolled to his side, and as my eyes fell on his barely disturbed pillow, I pondered whether we had drifted off like that or if he had moved during the night. Adjusting my position, I turned to face him.

“It’s quite nice to wake up like this, you know?” I admitted with a soft smile, my gaze locked onto his. Carlos’ chuckle danced in the air, playful and affectionate.

“Now… Excuse me! Actually nice? Were you doubting it?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes that mirrored the lightness of our banter. “Have you seen me?”

“Oh, yes. I have.”

“So, why is it actually nice?”

“Because I thought it would be different. That I wouldn’t be so comfortable to be naked in bed with you. I mean, I saw you eat worms as a child—” A giggle left my lips. “And now I let those same lips kiss me.”

“Oh, baby, you let them do so much more. I can still taste you,” he said with a smirk, his hand travelling down to my ass and pushing me to him.

A soft laughter escaped my lips, a mixture of surprise and amusement. Carlos' playful response was exactly what I had come to expect from him. "Oh, now we're getting cheeky, are we?"

His smirk deepened, his fingers tracing a teasing pattern along the back of my thigh. My leg was now wrapped around his. "Well, you know me."

I shifted closer to him, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "You're incorrigible."

The air between us was light, infused with a sense of ease that came so naturally when we were together. It was moments like these that I cherished the most—the unfiltered exchanges, the unspoken understanding, the unbreakable connection. His fingers traced patterns in my skin, mine stood still in his chest, the beating of his heart under my digits—a language of touch and glances that we had grown accustomed to without even noticing. The warmth of his body against mine, the intimacy of our shared space—it all felt so right, so beautifully intimate.

Carlos propped himself up on his elbow, his gaze tender yet searching. "You know, for what it's worth,” he began.

“Yes?”

“Waking up next to you feels... right," he admitted, his tone softening, his gaze holding mine. And then, as a contemplative expression crossed his features, he shifted his gaze to the window. "You know, I never expected this,” his voice tinged with a mixture of wonder and vulnerability. "I never thought we would ever fall on the same page. Either because I thought I didn’t deserve to be seen this way by you or because… I don’t know. I was so afraid of fucking up and losing you…"

His words settled like a gentle wave, each syllable a touch on my soul. The rawness in his voice stirred something within me, a connection that seemed to reach beyond words. His touch was warm on my skin, his words so low and his voice so rough, the timbre a caress that sorted through the depths of my emotions. I laid back in bed, my hands resting over my belly, in the spot where he had been asleep moments before. It was still warm.

"I couldn’t stop thinking about losing you. Until I did. And then I couldn’t stop dreaming about having you back. And then I saw you in the garage, at Mugello, and… it all came back, you know?” His eyes dropped to my chest, and then to my eyes. “The fear of letting you go," he confessed softly, his gaze unwavering.

The vulnerability in his words was a mirror to my own heart, an echo of the fears and doubts that had once haunted both of us. It almost felt too much.

"But then… The second you allowed me to get close enough, to look at you and truly see you…” He stretched his fingers and let his hand find the skin of my chest. Over my stern, he let his index wander, from my neck to my hands. “To feel you… This is not about losing. Is it?”

“It is not,” I replied, a small smile curving my lips.

His hand wandered to my side, his thumb tracing a gentle path over my breast. I looked down, admiring the way my body reacted to him—eager shivers, a symphony of sensations awakening in its trail. With every touch, it felt like being discovered anew. Each time he touched me, it felt like being touched for the very first time all over again.

“You have no idea how much I understand that,” I murmured, lifting my head from the pillow, my lips seeking his. He met me halfway, his head tilting to close the distance between us.

So mellow and slow. Warm and comforting. And lazy. Our kisses unfolded in unhurried movements, a languid exploration of each other's emotions. Time seemed to stretch and bend, because in that space, within the circle of his arms, we could afford to be lazy. Outside, the world was put on hold.

Carlos moved to hover over me, his frame settling in between my legs, shielding me from the sunlight rays seeping through the curtains. It was all him. And the lines of his stupidly handsome body and face, enhanced by the light hitting his back.

“I have a question,” I said, looking up at him.

The corner of his lips tugged up in a smirk, as he lowered himself to kiss my chin. “Not now, baby.”

“Yes, now, baby.”

He looked up. The lines of his face were disguised in the dark room. “I really would like to start this day inside you.” He ran his hand on my side, stopping at the back of my leg and guiding it around his waist. “Can we do that?”

“But that won’t answer my question.”

“That will make me very very very happy.” He kissed my chin, again. And then my cheek, my jaw, just below my ear. I exhaled, a stupid smile on my lips. Yeah, I had no chance against his tactics. My fingers moved on his biceps, tautening under my touch as he pressed his waist against me. “Can you feel how happy you make me?” he asked, his voice low and velvet smooth.

"Hmhm," I acknowledged. And he did it again, eyes locked on mine. A small moan escaped between my pressed lips and he chuckled, amused.

I shut my eyes as he moved his hips again, this time sliding against my slick folds. So close, yet so agonizing far. I could feel my own desire and the knowledge of it made my blood boil in my veins. I wanted him more than anything, and my body needed him just the same.

"Carlos," I begged, arching my back as he teased me mercilessly. "Please."

He chuckled softly, pushing himself up a little so that his lips could find mine. "Please what?" he asked, his voice a soft tease.

Make love to me. The words erupted from a very hidden corner of my mind, still lost in sleep and trapped in the fabric of dreams.

"Please," I repeated, this time a little louder. "I need you."

"I can see that," he replied, his voice low and serious. I opened my eyes to find him looking down, guiding his cock with one hand and using the other to move some strands of hair away from his face. "How are you so wet already, baby?"

How couldn’t I be?

I couldn't answer. All I could do was whimper as he teased me again, his tip sliding all the way through my slit, poking the entrance.

"You like being teased, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and sinful. "You like it so much that it’s a shame I can’t spend the whole day making you go crazy with it."

"Yes," I gasped, arching my back to get closer to him. He circled the entrance and I pressed my feet to the mattress, my head going back to the pillow as my body ached for him. "Please, Carlos."

"Okay, baby. I'm here," he said lowly, his voice a throaty whisper. He kissed me again, slowly but deeply. His tongue brushed against mine, my lips trapped between his teeth. "I'll make love to you."

The words were like a balm to my achy heart, a balm that soothed and healed. Carlos eased himself in slowly, a slow, torturous movement that made my entire body cry for him. And then out. Even more slowly. My hands moved to his shoulders, and then to his hair, urging him back. And when he was finally inside me again, I let out a long, trembling breath.

The slick, wet heat of us was heaven. His movements were slow and deliberate, a delicious torture that made me writhe uncontrollably beneath him.

"Austria," he breathed, his head hovering above mine as he moved his hips against me, burying himself deeper inside. I opened my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. "That's what made me go to Mugello."

A moan escaped my lips as he pushed even further, my back arching in response to the pleasure coursing through me. His eyes, filled with a burning desire, remained locked onto mine. "How? Why?" I managed to ask, my voice trembling with need.

"The fire," he confessed, his movements deliberate and sensual. His fingers slid through mine, our hands intertwining as he raised them above my head and thrust into me once more, the sensation more intense than before. "I didn't think about dying or getting hurt. All I could think about was you.” He moaned lowly, a fucking melody in my ears. “Your voice in my head."

I furrowed my brow, his words slowly registering in my desire-clouded mind. Sensations of pleasure and love pulsed through me as he continued to move, his gaze never leaving mine. He was taking his time, savouring every moment of our connection.

“Me?”

His grip on my fingers got stronger. “You.”

And then, in my cloudy mind, in the midst of all things I was feeling and desiring, the endless goodbyes we exchanged. His cologne mixed with rubber and oil, the sound of engines and rattle guns. The hugs at the airport, at home, before leaving and after arriving.

"Go race but don't die in there," I whispered, the words escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. He cracked a small, affectionate smile.

"Exactly that," he murmured against my lips. "And then, for a fraction of a second, I thought of dying. And how I wouldn't see you ever again."

I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest intensifying. My feelings seemed bigger than myself.

"I want to be with you."

Carlos's face softened at my words. "I want that, too, baby," he whispered, his voice full of love and tenderness, his chest pressing against mine as he caught my lips in a slow kiss, burying himself inside me once more.

And then he was moving faster, harder, and I was lost, lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over me and the idea of how I had found home. I was falling. No safety net, yet the wind in my face was greater than any safety I had ever known.

Minutes after climax, both of us still lost in post-sex bliss and in each other, Carlos’ alarm rang on the nightstand. The room was now more brightly lit, but our bodies were still languid and sated, lost in the cocoon of our intimate connection. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the strident symphony of the alarm.

"Think I've got time for a quick nap?" I inquired with a playful raise of my eyebrow.

Carlos let out a soft chuckle as he silenced the alarm. "You can sleep while I hit the shower," he suggested, his voice still husky. "And then you'll need to get up and start getting ready, or else we’ll be late."

Feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in, I sighed deeply while sitting up in bed. I looked around. Last night was still a confusing puzzle in my mind. And then, it all came to clarity. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing, "Rio has my key card."

"Why—How did that happen?"

"What do you mean, 'how'? He did the check-in, and I just dropped my bags here at the hotel and ran to the restaurant. I—Fuck. This is on you," I threw him a pillow.

Despite my efforts, he caught it quite easily. “How is this my fault?”

“You… seduced me in the elevator,” he laughed at my words, taking a hand to his belly.

Getting up, he threw me the pillow and walked to the closet, taking a robe out of there. To be honest, half my worries disappeared while he walked naked through the room, the view being distraction enough.

"Well,” he passed me the robe. “Rio's room is just across the hall. You can pop over there, grab the key card, and sort your stuff out. I can even go for you, if you want."

My anxiety spiked at the thought of such a direct confrontation. "You want me to just knock on my brother's door and say, 'Hi, I just spent the night with your best friend. Nice night overall, but now I need my stuff to get ready.’?"

Carlos pondered the situation for a moment before responding. “Yes.”

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, I accepted the robe. I wrapped it around me, the rush of nerves tugging around at the same time. Talking to my brother about last night wasn't something I was eager to do. If there was something good about having him moving soon out of the house, was the fact that never, in my whole life, had he encountered a guy leaving my room. But there was no avoiding it now, was it?

"Alright," I muttered, summoning my resolve. "I'll go get the key card and then I’ll get ready. We meet at breakfast. But if this turns into an awkward family moment, I'm blaming you."

Carlos chuckled, his voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. "I'll take full responsibility.” He picked up the second robe and dressed it. “It's not the end of the world, Eva. He’s done worse."

I gave him a wry smile, appreciating his attempt to ease my tension. "Easy for you to say," I quipped, heading towards the door.

I mustered up the courage to walk across the hall and knock on Rio's door. Barefoot and with my hair tied in a terrible bun. It didn't take long before my brother answered, and the smirk on his face was undeniable.

"Eva, my dear sister," he said, his tone teasing. "Can’t say I wasn’t waiting for you."

"Cut it out, Fabrizio,” I moved in my feet. “Can I just get my key card?”

He feigned innocence. "Key card?”

“Come on, I need to go get ready.”

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "Oh, I'm sure you do.”

“Rio, I swear to God—” he interrupted me with a laugh while taking a step back and opening the door. My bags rested against his closet. I frowned. “How? Why?”

Rio's laughter rang through the room as I walked in to retrieve my bags. He leaned against the door frame, still chuckling. "Well, sis," he began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I figured, why waste the money on a separate room for you when I knew you'd end up there anyway? Plus, it's been ages since I had a chance to tease you properly."

I shook my head in disbelief, simultaneously amused and annoyed by his antics. "I should've known you'd pull something like this."

He gave me an unapologetic grin. "What can I say? It's in my big brother's job description to embarrass you whenever possible.”

I rolled my eyes, but a fond smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Alright, alright," I relented, grabbing my suitcase, purse and Carlos’ gift. "I'll see you at breakfast. And for the record, Carlos is a way better roommate than you."

Rio laughed heartily, waving me off as I headed back to Carlos' room. As I closed the door behind me, I couldn't help but shake my head at my brother's antics. On the other side of the hall, the door was closed. I knocked, hoping Carlos hadn’t yet stepped into the shower.

When he opened the door, his face broke into a grin, which quickly escalated into hearty laughter. “Guess it’s a sleepover, now,” I said.

He shrugged. “Good thing we get along well.”

I'll review the chapter again in a day or two, so I'm sorry if there are a few typos, but I just finished it. Happy birthday, Carlito. Hope Monza is good for him, this weekend. post weekend edit: MONZA WAS GOOD FOR HIM, IM CRYING HAPPY TEARS taglist: @alesainz @juliantheupsidedown @dreamsarebig (i forgot to tag people when i posted the chapter because i was just so nervous about posting this (we love anxiety) so sorry, but ill try to not forget next time) thank you all for the messages and the replies and especially the reblogs! i love you all SO much. thank you so much for the support. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. See you around. All the love, Bru 🤍

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