#martin x reader
Text
Absolutely no one has requested this but I wanted to write some headcanons about Vampireworld!Martin because my god it’s so nice to see him be a good person for once.
TW: Very brief mention of death, self indulgent mess
Vampireworld! Martin Mertens x Reader Relationship Headcanons
• He’s just a silly goofy lil guy.
• Constantly cracking jokes and trying to lighten the mood, it’s almost impossible to feel bad when he’s around.
• Gives the biggest and warmest hugs ever, and would hold you forever if he could.
• Living in a post apocalyptic wasteland makes it hard to find time to relax, but somehow he’s able to find areas safe from vampires for you guys to hang out and take a breather from fighting
• His favorite thing to do with you is to go scavenging, he loves looking around and finding all sorts of cool stuff from before the war (Bonnie is not happy about all the “junk” you guys find piling up in the tank)
• Always ready to defend you if a vampire tries to attack, this is the only time when he isn’t smiling because he’s so concerned for your safety.
• Martin’s an old guy and so he likes to just lay and relax with you, joking that your warmth is the only thing that can soothe his old bones.
• There isn’t much around in terms of food, but whatever he cooks for you is always delicious (at least yall have garlic lol)
• He convinced Bonnie to let them hang up a dartboard on the wall so you, him and Huntress occasionally have dart throwing competitions (Huntress almost always wins).
• Has a habit of forgetting things after he sets them down, he once spent half a day looking for his jacket only for you to remind him he put it in the wash.
• Will slap your butt as you pass by just as a joke, and wouldn’t be offended if you did the same back.
• If he found out he was going to be a father, he’d be pretty scared. He had a wife and even a kid at one point, but they were both killed by vampires and he doesn’t want history to repeat itself. But in the end, he’d still be excited and do his best to take care of you both.
#adventure time x reader#adventure time imagines#fionna and cake x reader#fionna and cake fanfic#fionna and cake imagine#adventure time fanfic#adventure time#martin mertens x reader#martin x reader#martin mertens#vampireworld martin mertens x reader#sfw#sfw headcanons
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Martin x spiral avatar
“Well it’s like… it’s called Michael but that’s not what that is it’s who he might have used to been but it’s also a real name that is called and when it’s called they’ve’d answer
You know? Like
it’s not it’s name because it is it’s ‘what do they call you’ because it used to be what they’ve’d whold have bean if it was he and he is Michael … does that make sense?”
Martin stands at the counter pouring tea the cup has been long since filled boiling water spills over as he stairs in to nothing not noticing the heater scorching his hand
“Good lord Martin!” you stand and rush over taking the cup and kettle out of his hands “are you okay?!”
The skin on his hand is already starting to blister and bleed
“P-pardon? What- ow oh my god! What’s happened?!”
“That’s not the problem these look like serious burns martin, I’ll drive you to the hospital”
“I- yeah that- that’s a good idea…”
“We should tell Jon before we leave, he’ll freak if we leave without telling him,” you Gide him out of the staff room “you can take a seat and wait for me if you need?”
“I’ll- yeah”
…
Knock knock
“Heyyyyy Jon” you close the door behind you “me and Martin might need the day or so off”
He sighs loudly and you can hear the faint whirring of a tape recorder
“I told you you can’t just take days of to go on dates with martin this is the second time this week and I-“
“No it’s not that, I need to drive Martin to the hospital”
“Why what’s happened? Is it those damed worms again! I said to be careful!” He sighs and mumbles something about how incompetent everyone is
“No, um it’s not that he um- burnt himself making tea spilled hot water on his hand, I was explaining Michael to him and guess he-“
“What?” Jon turns and looks at you
“I need to take him to the emergency room it’s pritty bad and-“
“No no I herd that I don’t care. You were explaining Michael? H-how”
“Well it’s really simple actually if you remember what he looks like it’s not it but it’s them because he is it but it’s not he and vice versa he’s full of nothing and so he’s empty because it’s everything which means they’re are something and they’ve are Michael Because that’s what he’s always been so that’s what it’s not choosing to be, it’s like vanilla flavouring a drop is vanilla and a bottle is vanilla the difference is the concentration even though it’s technically the same concentration the difference is just the amount it’s exactly the same but also extremely different, you understand right?”
He looks just like Martin did a few minutes ago completely frozen in place look around with his eyes trying to calculate something in his head
“I can’t deal with explaining things to you I need to get Martin to the hospital” you walk across the room to the door “huh? I didn’t know where ales to paint our office doors? You made a good choice on the colour though Jon, the yellow really brightens up the room”
Jon perks up “Wait do-!”
You close the door in front of you and turn forward to move to his left you run walk move wander continue stumbling for days which takes seconds to get confudelling to be interested
“This isn’t sensefull” you go in the top of the stairs and turn to you forward and walk out of a painting and are met with a person With curling eyes and panicked hair “oh hello what might you be?”
She turns forward and cocks her head at you “are you the.. thing.. that.. lives? Here”
“Hmm? Do I live or am I just an existence, I think I’m a person I still have existing so I’d say no… so yes I do-not live but I might do it here” your voice comes out crisp and warm like burnt tinfoil you have spoken in a long time so it’s rattling to hear a video and listen to the clear crystallized frames of your voice producing those pictures of words
“Is this it? What door do I take to get out” she shoves a map into you
“Shit! My map! God damn it!” She starts to scratch at your senter trying to grab you out of the map you hold her away from it with your hand
“That’s not vary nice, if you wanted to leave you could have just ask”
“Bloody hell? Fine? How do I leave?” She pops out of nowhere and in to somewhere away
“See all you had to do was ask” you whisper in to her ear
You stand up to the side you head just barely touching the floor no it’s not quite the floor it’s the inside of what what’s you before you whet it
“Ah.. that’s it I’m not Michael.. what am I?.. we should go find out” you walk out of the in and in to the out of the door in the middle of the archives
“Um.. h-hello is someone there?” A voice calls out of a door to and office with the label ‘head archivist’
“If it’s you me.Lukas I-I already told you my answer..”
you close the door and walk out
The man inside stars at you slowly and calls a name
“Is that mine?” You ask
“I-is w-what yours?” He looks around nervously and alert
“My… ‘name’… is that it? Do I own a part of that name, is sounds like a very stupid name,” you repeat the name over and over once
“M-mayby” he seems to be breathing heavily tears stabbing his eyes
You move a finger to his eye he is frozen in fear and you slowly smooth the tear out of his eye with your thumb
“Martin… you should’ve not done that… your much to pretty to be leaking from your eyes…” you stand up straight “hmm strange… how do we might know your name” you laugh like a whiny kicked puppy with four sharp inhales and a soft sigh at the end “how fun..”
White Smokey tendrils form in the corners of the small office as ‘Martin’ stares blankly at you
He sits down in his chair and blows a tendril of smoke of his tea
“Gosh! That’s a nasty burn there! How’d you get it?” He bites his lip and shakes trying to hold back tears but fails miserably as he grips his mug in his hands tendrils of smoke reforming on his tea as more smoke fills the room “what’s wrong Martin? You look upset?”
He shakes in place “leave.”
“Pardon?-“
“LEAVE!” His cup shatters in his hand spilling hot tea onto his hand “fuck!” He runs his hand over his face and chokes back a sob
“Are you alright? That looks like it might’ve been painful if it was hot did you do that on purpose Because if you did it on purpose you shouldn’t have done it at all beca-“
“Stop… just leave… please..”
“Hmm.. alright i suppose,” you walk through the wall in to your door “Good bye, have fun without me I hope”
(I fucking live for writing spiral content!)
#martin blackwood#Martin x reader#tma podcast#Tma#tma spoilers#tma martin#Martin blackwood x reader#tma x reader#the magnus archives#the magnus institute#the spiral#spiral avatar#the lonley#lonely!martin#spiral!reader#x male reader#x reader#x gn reader#x gender neutral reader#tma fic#tma fanfiction#tma fanfic#tma fandom#tma fan content#tma fanwork#marten k blackwood#martin kartin blackwood
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Oh let me hold you." || Martin Kratt x GN! Reader ||
Summary: Lazy day with Martin, taking the break you desevre
Warnings: None
Notes: This isn't the Martin fic I was talking about, this is different. That one is coming but yall need to be fed so. I was listening to Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez and Em Beihold while writing this and its really short. (I was also pretty sad when I wrote this and in need of comfort so um, sorry)
Today was just one of those days where you just didn't want to move. The only issue with that was you were currently using your boyfriend, Martin, as a pillow and he would most definitely need to do at least something today. You sighed, taking in the peaceful moments you had before he woke up. You moved your arm toward the ceiling, something you found yourself doing sometimes whilst laying down.
"Oh, you're awake! Good!" You tilted your head back to meet eyes with him, seeing him wide awake. You were suddenly overcome with guilt, thinking you woke him up - even though you barely moved a muscle. "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you up, Im sorry Martin. Go back to sleep, please. I'll get out of the hammock-" He effectively cuts you off by tapping your nose.
"Oh let me hold you, please. I think we both need a break for at least a bit." He practically begs whilst holding you tighter, his body seeming more comfortable than before. You let out a content sigh before closing your eyes and nodding a bit. "That sounds great."
--
After a while of not seeing his brother or you, Chris decided he should at least look for you two, knowing all the mischief you two can cause. He walked into the main space in the Tortuga before looking around, seeing Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy Z but not you or Martin. "Where are the lovebirds?" All three of the Wild Kratts crew turned to shush him. Aviva pointed to the blue hammock the couple often shared. Chris looked at it and then smiled at what he saw.
Just you and Martin snuggling close, having the day off you both earned.
#x reader#reptisoil#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral insert#chris kratt#wild kratts#wk#wk aviva#wk jimmy z#wk crew#martin kratt#aviva corcovado#wk koki#martin kratt x reader#martin x reader#wk x reader#wild kratts x reader#wk crew x reader#lazy day#cuddles are the best#sorry its short#wild kratts fanfic#jimmy z
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
We're Just Glad You Could Visit - Martin Imagine (Another Round)
Title: We're Just Glad You Could Visit
Pairing: Martin X Reader
Based On: Orange Juice
Word Count: 959 words
Warning(s): none
Summary: Martin gets the chance to reconnect with an old friend. They're talk reveals just how much both of them changed and how much they've stayed the same. All that's left is to accept those things.
Author's Note: I watched this film twice a few months apart and I had dramatically different reactions both times I watched it, so that's fun.
STICK SEASON - NOAH KAHAN WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST
---------------------------
Sitting in front of Martin again was so strange.
It was this weird pocket of the universe. Time felt both frozen and like it had already flown by.
He looked much older than he did the last time I had seen him. All those years and I never stopped to imagine how he looked now that he aged.
He seemed so put together. A good job and family. So much was solid and stable. Safe. I knew in my heart that my life was also solid and stable, but it was just so different.
Our lives had gone down such different paths.
I looked at the table in front of us. Two cups. One of wine, one of water. It was the smallest, but best representation of us taking sharp turns in different directions.
"Why did you come back," Martin asked after a moment.
"It was just time," I replied. I paused for a moment. "I missed the people here. I missed home."
I missed him. I wanted to admit that, but it felt like that was a step too far. I hadn't been back long enough.
I had wondered about what would've happened if I had come back sooner. Just by a few years.
How different would our lives be?
I had entertained the idea before. I remembered the jokes about Martin and me back then. Jokes about us being inevitable. It was meant to just be a matter of time. I believed that for a little while.
I knew that if I had actually stayed for him, I would've been miserable. The person I was back then was not meant to stay in one place for so long. I would've gone crazy and made Martin's life hell.
In accepting that, I had let him go.
I had accepted that his life had moved past me. He had a family now. A good job. I was happy for him.
"Where'd you go?"
I grinned at his question. I had so many stories for him.
I told him every story I could think of. Good memories, bad memories, the times I was simply an idiot. It was nice to be able to finally talk to him about it all. I never really thought I would get that chance. I remember ranting to him about how much I wanted to travel. He would just chuckle and nod along. I promised to tell him the stories one day.
I finally had the chance.
I don't know how long I had been rambling when I decided to turn the conversation back to him, "Why am I the only one sharing my life story? How have you been?"
"You say that like I have a lot to share," he replied.
"Everyone has something."
His grin twitched a little bigger before he looked from me down to his glass.
"Martin..."
He sighed. "Fine, fine."
I smiled.
"I got married, I had my kids," he started. "I've got the house. The job is going well. Kids today are just so out of focus. They don't want anything that has to do with life outside of their phones."
"Martin," I scolded. "Why would you say that?"
"I've seen it."
"Maybe you need to change your approach."
"How would you know?"
"Because I was constantly bored and it led to more confusion than it was worth," I shrugged. "Would you have believed anyone that told you I was simply not paying attention growing up?"
His voice dropped to a grumble. "No."
"Exactly," I replied. "I'm not saying every kid is perfect, but they deserve a little more faith."
He just nodded.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I hijacked your whole story."
"There wasn't much there."
"Nonsense. Tell me about the wife. And the kids. I wanna know about them."
Martin kept talking for as long as I pushed him to talk. I was so content listening to him. It was so interesting to hear about his life. All the chances and achievements. I adored every detail.
We tend to long for the life we didn't accept.
"I know I'm not nearly as exciting as you."
"Martin, what are you talking about-"
"You saw things, you have funny stories from places I never imagined going, you are happy," he stopped me. "Look at me. I got stuck and I got old."
There was a pause. A beat before I reached over and placed my hand over his.
"Life isn't about what has happened to you, it's how you choose to look at the things that have happened to you," I said. I took a breath. "Existential theorists in psychology are seen as being pessimistic because they describe life as having no predetermined meaning. But people don't consider that they don't believe there's no meaning; they believe that it is our job to construct that meaning."
Martin looked down for a moment.
"You and I simply have different meanings. Doesn't make either one of us wrong."
He looked back at me.
There was another pause.
Two parallel lines were suddenly crossing. Back in contact truly. I was suddenly aware of how long I had spent missing him. I tried to ignore that feeling but I could already feel it eating away at me.
"I wish I had come back sooner," I muttered.
"Why," he asked.
I paused. "I just do."
A grin pulled at his lips again. I grinned back at him.
I didn't want to admit how badly I wanted to see how differently things would've played out if I had just waited. If I hadn't run away. I'd like to think that craving is natural. Wondering about the what if's of life.
I think some part of him knew.
I just wondered if he was doing the same thing.
---------------------------
Navigation Guide
What I Write For
Some Original Characters
#another round imagine#another round fanfiction#another round x reader#martin imagine#martin fanfiction#martin x reader#martin another round imagine#martin another round fanfiction#martin another round x reader#imagine#x reader#fanfiction#mads mikkelsen imagine#mads mikkelsen x reader#mads mikkelsen fanfiction
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
sʟᴀsʜᴇʀs/ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ғᴏʀ💋
ᴊᴀsᴏɴ ᴠᴏᴏʀʜᴇᴇs♡︎
ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴍʏᴇʀs♡︎♡︎
Fʀᴇᴅᴅʏ ᴋʀᴜᴇɢᴇʀ
Bɪʟʟʏ ʟᴏᴏᴍɪs♡︎♡︎
Sᴛᴜ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴇʀ♡︎♡︎
billy lenz
martin (1976)
norman bates
Vincent Sinclair
Carrie white
#slashers#slashers x reader#horror x reader#slashers x you#slasher x y/n#norman bates x reader#billy lenz x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#martin x reader#martin (1976) x reader#stu matcher x reader#billy loomis x reader#freddy krueger x reader#michael myers x reader#jason voorhees x reader#carrie white x reader#martin mathias x reader
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Glad You’re Here - Martin (The Rain)
I fucking LOVED this show, and I was so disappointed to see that there wasn’t much of a fandom for it. I swear I will build a fandom for this show up from the ground if I have to.
My Masterlist.
angst, hurt/comfort, x gender neutral reader
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings: Injury, canon violence (if any). Not proofread.
Summary: Reader and Martin get into an argument, and Reader breaks off from the group on their own, hiding a nasty wound. It gets infected and they get terribly sick.
"You know what? Fine. Okay. I'm not going to die with the rest of you." I grit my teeth, glaring at the soldier in front of me. I took one last look at everyone, before turning away and tucking my knife back into its sheath on my thigh, limping off into the forest.
The previous fight against the people trying to take Rasmus had taken a toll on all of us, but they had regrouped quickly; and my own group was already more than ready to fight for him again. They were a bunch of idiots. A bunch of idiots that were willing to get themselves killed for that stupid boy. I told myself. I wasn't going to lose anymore people for him. Not again.
My foot suddenly caught on a tree root, sending me tumbling to the ground. I panted, clutching the now open wound on my side and rolling onto my back. I blinked hard as my vision spun, noticing the dark clouds begin to roll in. Cursing under my breath, I staggered to my feet and set off in a random direction at a clumsy pace. I had no idea where I was.
Maybe I was going to be the idiot to die.
I shook my head at that thought, stumbling forward and gripping onto trees for support. I had been severely injured during our last fight, being shot once, and winged another time, as well as breaking my ankle. I had lost a lot of blood, and I was still weak from it and struggling to recover. Being too stubborn to accept help, I hadn't even set my ankle, to avoid suspicion. Our medical supplies were limited, and everyone else had been injured worse.
I suddenly spotted what looked like a school in the distance, and I breathed out a sigh of relief, picking up my pace. And not a moment's too soon I opened the door forcefully, as a heavy downpour began. I wandered around aimlessly before heading straight for the nurse's office. There wasn't much left-it had been looted already, it looked like-but in a drawer, I found a half empty bottle of painkillers. I immediately shook some out into my palm, downing them with a gulp of water. I began to search for other things I would need; bandages, and antibiotics for the winged shot on my side that I was sure had been infected by now. I managed to find bandages and gauze, but only empty bottles of antibiotics. Not even any alcohol.
I grimaced as I opened my water bottle, which wasn't even half full. I tugged my shirt up, removing the bandage with a wince. The wound was an angry, swollen red all around it and it was hot to the touch. With a grimace, I poured about half of my remaining water over it, which did little to clean it. I did all that I could do, securing a gauze pad over it and beginning to work on the one in my abdomen. Afterwards, I wrapped my ankle tightly in gauze and tape, stabilizing it the best I could, and curled onto the cot tiredly.
I woke up shivering and burning. I turned onto my side with a small groan, pulling the thin blanket over me. The amount of energy it took just to do that should have been concerning to me, but a fog had settled over my brain, and I would have felt almost in a dream-like state had it not been for the terrible pain I felt all over. Each breath was difficult and painful. My mouth was terribly, painfully dry, but I was unable to reach for my water bottle. I stared at it longingly until I finally succumbed to fatigue once again.
A shuffling awoke me this time, and I jolted up in alarm, struggling onto my elbows with renewed strength. My eyes darted around, and my hand hesitantly went to the knife on my thigh before I realized it had an IV hooked to it. Footsteps rounded the corner, and I shrank back, hastily pulling the IV out and swinging my legs over the cot. I immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea hit me, hard. I hunched over, fighting the urge to throw up, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flinched back, my head snapping up to meet the threat.
"Martin?" I croaked out, my eyes slowly bringing his face into focus. Completely forgetting our argument, I slumped against him in relief. He wrapped his arms around me, tenderly rubbing my back, before he suddenly pulled away, resting the back of his hand against the side of my neck and frowning. He pressed a hand to my chest, gently urging me to lie back on the cot. For once, I complied, feeling weak and helpless. I relaxed into the cot with a small sigh, watching as he stood up.
"Don't leave me." I mumbled, managing to catch his fingers with mine. He looked at our intertwined hands for a moment, before taking his hand back and leaving the room without a word. The feeling of regret hung heavy over me, making it even harder to breathe. I drew in a labored breath, closing my eyes, and knowing that I was at least safe now. I trusted that, no matter what terms we were on, Martin wouldn't let any harm come to me.
Before I could drift off again, I heard his footsteps coming back down the hall. I forced my heavy eyelids open, eyeing him wearily as he approached me with something in his hands that I couldn't make out. He sat on my bedside, taking the IV I had tugged out into his hands carefully, and holding his hand out for my arm. I groaned, tucking my arm under the sheets.
"They're antibiotics." He insisted. He knew about my fear of needles.
"I'm fine." I protested, attempting to sit up again. He eyed me carefully as I did so, but made no move to stop me. My jaw clenched, and my face screwed up in pain, but I managed to prop myself against the corner, a pale, shaky hand settling over my injured abdomen. I tried to ignore the burning heat coming from the wound.
"Where's everyone else?" I asked tiredly.
"At the bunker." He replied shortly, looking away.
"I'm sorry." I started, my timid voice barely above a whisper. "It's just..We've lost so many people already and seeing that almost happen to you…" I hesitated. "..yesterday..? I can't…I don't want to lose you-" I broke off before my voice could crack, looking down at my feet.
"I know. I understand, but we're in this together. Nobody gets to go running off." He finally met my gaze, looking exhausted.
"I'm sorry." I repeated, breaking off with a cough and a wheeze. He gave me a concerned glance.
"That happened three days ago." He eventually informed me, eyeing me up and down for my reaction.
"Oh." I whispered. "How long have you been here?"
"Two days."
"Martin I-" I began. He immediately cut me off.
"Don't, not right now. I'm just glad you're still here. I thought you were gone."
He took me in his arms, holding me tightly to his chest, the gesture admitting how scared he had been at the thought of losing me. I held onto him as tight as I could, sucking in a shaky breath and then wincing. His hands began to gently run across my back in a comforting manner. I relaxed into him in exhaustion. He was careful as he gently pulled me down onto the cot with him, tucking an arm securely around my waist. I sighed contentedly, knowing we were both safe right now, in the current moment. That was all that mattered.
#the rain#the rain netflix#martin the rain#the rain martin#the rain martin x reader#martin x reader#simone and martin#i still respect them and i absolutely love their relationship#but the ending ugh#they deserved SO MUCH BETTER THAN THAT#the rain fanfiction#the rain netflix fanfiction#hurt/comfort#angst#the rain angst
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
I fricking love the blog...there isn't enough Martin content.
So, here's a thing..Martin tries to get blood from you ~the usual way~ and finds out you're actually a vampire, too...
First of all, thank you fam.. and I'm sincerely sorry for the lack of content lately. Mental health. Let's blame that.
But anyways, I can totally get behind this idea. Thats with me thinking that the reader is an honest to goodness Vampire. Im talking Anne Rice Lestat type shit.
I feel that they knew he was stalking them from day one. They found the entire idea rather endearing. They knew he was The Count on first "meeting" and dared him to follow all the closer. Leaving the blinds open whenever they'd change clothes, following the old familiar routes. They were beckoning Martin to follow them closer, until the bloodlust took over and he simply had to follow through.
He probably talked about them all the time on the radio, all the while the reader clutches the transistor radio close to their chest. He talked about all the things he wanted to do to them. How perfect their lives would be together. Martin really had no idea...
I might eventually do a thing with this, but you'll have to give me some time.
I have this idea in my head that the reader manages to sedate him with one of his own needles. Either in an alleyway, or the gangway of their own apartment. He regrets everything. The image of you in his mind starts to scramble. In this moment, he was one of his own victims. Pointed fangs poised directly at his jugular. The weakness slipping into his limbs. He had made a huge mistake.
They definity end up giving Martin a choice, whether they end him now or give him a new life.
He hated his life, everything about it. But was he ready to just up and become this preternatural being?
I'm seriously thinking about this anon.
I'm feeling a real LouisxLestat sort of vibe. We already know that his answer would be yes. Still so caught up in his own personal dilemma, The moment your teeth sink into his flesh..he's already wondering how to explain the marks to Cuda. The sharp incision. The feel of your teeth on his neck felt so good.
I have this image in my mind of the two of them waking up together. A small bandage resting over the puncture wound.. why does his mouth feel so incredibly dry? He tilts his head away from the from the image of the seamless river of blood pouring from your wrist the night before.
He watches as you flitter about in the kitchen. The door was unlocked. Why doesn't he just run?
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Baby Steps | MV1
Summary: You've always been Mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. All it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all.
Word Count: 8.1k
Warnings: Mild Smut, Childbirth, Angst, Mentions of Jos Verstappen.
26th November; the night of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix should have been the happiest of your life.
Not many people in the world can hold their head up high and say they have won a Formula 1 world championship, let alone three. Ever since your toothy grin and shy comments when first stepping into the paddock, you had been making waves in the motorsport world. Years later, under the attentive eye of Toto Wolff and Mercedes, you had become effortlessly cool and undeniably talented; the core makings of a three-time world champion.
The night of your first win was…you can’t even say a distant memory; the last thing you could vividly remember was linking arms with the golden boy of Mercedes, laughing merrily as you were guided down to the foyer of the extravagant hotel, the entire team with their warm comments and loving attitude ready for their new-found champion. The next day consisted of crouching over the porcelain throne, your insides rejecting any form of substance, the smell of tequila on your skin making you belch more. It was a cruel cycle, but one that every world champion had learnt.
It also hadn’t ceased you from repeating the identical routine the next year; the feeling was so nice, you had to do it twice. Ironically, you had also worn the identical bra and panty set of the first year; not that anybody had seen it. Boys were off limits during the height of your career. This was your choice, of course. PR would have given their overpriced marketing tools to see you on the arm of a successful man, thinking of the faux love story they could spin.
No, in order to be successful, respected; you’d sworn off any romantic relationship. You were not a figure to be held next to a man for beauty. Moreover, you were almost certain that if Toto saw a man within three feet of you, he’d frighten them off, in true fear that anybody would come near his youngest prodigy.
The third year had been set; the routine was laid out in front of you, ready to make mistakes you’d groan and then forget about by the fourth. Instead, you found yourself crouched in the cramped cubicle of the nightclub, a hand over your mouth and nose, attempting to muffle the gulps from your lips. Your eyes had glossed over, intensely focused on the piece of plastic fisted in your palm. Two blue lines, interlapped to create a cross. A plus sign. A positive sign.
You were pregnant.
19th October; a month prior to what should have been the happiest day of your life.
You’d been the personification of a peacock; feathers flexing as you walked through the paddock, your tenth pole position of the year resting comfortably on your shoulders. Heavy pats on your back, a cheeky wink towards the camera of Sky Sports and cheers from the crowds had guided your return to your motorhome, thanking your PR assistant as you slid into the only four walls on the track where there was a form of privacy.
Except there wasn’t. A figure was relaxed into your sofa with a photograph in his hands, eyes trained on your body when you’d entered the room, unknowing of their presence. A grin appeared on his smug face upon seeing you practically skyrocket out of your skin, noting the other person in your sanctuary. He eventually stands up, removing his branded Red Bull cap to place on your sofa.
“You shouldn’t be here, Max.” You scoff, snatching the polaroid out of his fingers, returning the photo to its rightful place; atop of the plush chilli Carlos Sainz had bought you for your birthday. (He’d also bought you a bullet vibrator, trying to remind you of your stubbornness, urging you to relax a little.)
“Nice photograph.” He comments, his blue eyes flickering over to where it now stood, propped up in pride. You sat centre of the track in Abu Dhabi; two younger figures sat between your legs. They both rested a chubby hand on your World Driving Championship trophy, huge grins at the shining object. “Friends of yours?”
“Sisters.” You mumble in return, removing the snapback from your head, balancing it on top of your shelf. The cool air finds the roots of your hair instantly, a wave of relief rolling through your entire body when your hand comes up to soothe your scalp. “Congratulations on…was it P16?” You gloat, hoping your rival would catch the message that you didn’t want him to be there.
Max feels his lips drop and eyebrows meet at the cold reminder of his own qualification result. He knew the season was drawing to a close, quickly at that, and the constant reminder that he would be losing another championship to Mercedes golden girl was the last thing he needed. The smug grin on your lips remains, turning around to slide your arms out of your race suit, letting the top half rest on your hips, sleeves hanging loosely at your legs.
“That’s why I came to see you.” He responds, standing up straighter, arms folded as his eyes train on your own movement. “It makes my losses look miniscule compared to your own.” His own grin has returned now, satisfied with his own response to the situation.
You had been playing this game for months. The first year of your relationship on the grid had been friendly, the second had been hostile. The third had been downright dangerous. It began to get to a point where the grid, the press, everyone had picked up on the relationship between yourself and the Red Bull driver.
“Hey, I’ll do anything to help you forget this will be my third World Championship.” You snap back, turning around to meet his figure, your own arms mimicking, folding against your chest. This time, you take a step closer. “Maybe next year Christian Horner will remember his ‘Precious Little Maxie.’
Max scoffs at the nickname you had given him, eyes noting the step you had taken. He responds, taking his own step. “Trust me. There’s nothing little about me.” His eyes meet yours when he finishes his sentence, and for the first time, Max Verstappen has left you completely and utterly speechless. Mind goes into overdrive, years of hatred are forgotten has his hands fly out, grasping each side of your face, meshing his lips to your own.
Your first thought is to push the swine away, slap him across the face and scream for Toto Wolff to grab him by the collar. Clouded, spaced out; your mind begins to crack, your only thought is how good his lips feel against your own, how soft they feel against your cheek, how sinful they trace against your neck.
Max’s palms had originally rested on your cheek, they had begun their trail, slithering down your sides, grip tightening as they reached your hips, forcefully pulling you towards his body, grinding his crotch against your own, the desperation of his member clearly noticeable.
A gasp emitted from your lips, feeling his teeth begin to nip across the soft skin of your neck, desperately searching for that one spot that would make you crumble. Max’s hands make quick work, one wrapping around your waist in order to keep you secure, the other grasping you fireproofs, race suit and panties in a fluid motion, exposing the sweet centre he had been craving. Nimble fingers trail around your entrance, swiping a finger against your most sensitive bundle of nerves, rewarding him with the most sinful sound he had ever received.
“Max-“ You gasped, mind clouded by lust, how your desire of this man had built from your core the moment you had seen him in person, years ago. “Max, please-“
“Shut the fuck up.” He mumbled, his own hand pulling down his trousers and underwear, rubbing his shaft for preparation. “Do not ruin this fucking moment.”
In a swift motion, Max has you pinned against the wall of your driver room, the cool wall sending a shiver against your skin. You barely have time to register the coolness dancing across you before your mind is overwhelmed by the feeling of his length slipping into your wet folds, and there is truly nothing little about him in that moment, mind sent into overdrive when he brings his lips back to yours.
19th December, twenty-three days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
You had finally thrown yourself entirely into a distraction; Christmas. You’d flew back to Brackley alongside your teammate, both of you returning to the Mercedes base before retiring for the holidays. There had been no string short of invites flooding into your inbox, asking if you wanted to join them in any festivities. Anything at this point was a wanted distraction from the impending coil growing in your stomach, both figuratively and literally.
And so, you attended a Christmas Market alongside George and Carmen, passing on the mulled wine the two had insisted on trying. You’d gone to see Jack’s Christmas performance alongside Toto and Suzie but declined going to the fish restaurant they had mentioned; (you’d read somewhere in your first week of sheer panic that you could no longer go near fish whilst pregnant.) You’d gone to Lando’s new apartment in London but had seen the scowl on his face when you’d complained about your ‘bad stomach,’ and couldn’t do any heavy lifting of decorations.
It wasn’t until Christmas Eve; Lewis had come to your family’s home, presents for your younger siblings, parents and yourself, of course. He’d sat politely, sipped on your mother’s tea, laughed politely at the antics building up towards the big day itself.
Spending time with somebody for three quarters of the year will teach you a lot about them; Lewis knew you like he knew each twist and turn of every track he’d raced along during the years. He knew you laughed with your whole stomach to the point where you had to grab something for support; that before every single race you would have your ‘top secret handshake’ with your race engineer, (you insisted your race would always go more smoothly if you did so, the last time you didn’t had resulted in a DNF.)
What Lewis knew most, was you were a complete and utter sucker for anything with chocolate. He had seen you practically sob when your trainer had found protein brownies that would work in your diet. So why did you decline your mothers’ sweet desserts when offered around the lounge? Why did you seem to hold your breath when the scent of treats was wafted under your nose, almost as if you’d vomit if you came into contact with them?
Carefully, your teammate placed his mug down on the low table, wiggling out of the space between your younger sisters; both were entranced by him. In any other situation, he would have sat there for hours, listening to their oh-so-sweet stories. Instead, he whistled for Roscoe, watching as the dog stooped up from his position by the fire, tottering over towards his owner.
“I’m going to take Roscoe out for a wee.” He nods towards your figure, slouched on the opposite sofa. “You coming?” The way he phrases his question; you can tell it’s not a question, it’s a command. You nod, placing down your own mug, stretching as you pulled yourself away from the leather recliner.
Your sisters were now engrossed by one of the presents Lewis has insisted they had to open early. Your mother and father were running through their guest list for tomorrow; nobody seemed to notice as the two of you slipped on your outerwear, whistling for Roscoe as you stepped through the dining room and onto the porch of the family home you had gifted your parents almost 1 year ago now.
Lewis’ eyes meet yours the moment you had closed the ornate doors. You struggle to meet his gaze; you know he has begun to put the pieces of this metaphorical puzzle together. He barely waits for the sound of the door closing before he starts to speak, the mannerisms he reserves for his teammate in instant appeal.
“Alright. What’s happening then?” He asks almost instantly, motioning for you to walk alongside him, taking the scenic route of the large garden. “You’d never turn down sweet things. You do everything to make your mother smile, why would you turn down her cooking?”
“I’ve just gone off that kind of stuff.” You mumble, not really thinking about what you were saying. You’d later remember to be more careful with your responses. You were not expecting him to piece it together so quickly through his own train of thought.
“Oh, my sister was like that when she was pregnant with-“ He cuts himself off, ceasing his steps when he realises what has escaped his lips. His head snaps back to look at you, and his heart melts. You, his self-assured, sweet teammate, now with tears in your eyes, a visible shake running across your body. He’s not stupid, he’s far from it.
“You’re pregnant.” He almost whispers, seeing how the words are visibly affecting you. Lewis says nothing, instead pulling you straight into his chest, arms engulfing you as he feels your body loosen, silently shaking with held back tears of being reminded of your current situation. “But…how?” He murmurs, loud enough for you to hear. He knew of your dating rule. Even outside of the press, no man ever seemed to be enough to knock you down, let alone knock you up.
You can’t tell him, not now. You couldn’t tell him. You had to tell him.
“Max.” You whisper, barely able to have the name on your lips. Lewis’ brows furrow. He knows in his heart he is right, but he doesn’t want to be.
“Fewtrell?” He responds, referencing to Lando’s oldest friend. You had been to see them recently, after all.
“Verstappen.”
Lewis’ isn’t sure what to say in that moment. Instead, he simply keeps you in his arms, in this moment at least, he can keep you warm, safe. Away from questioning eyes and the stories which will surely follow you until the end of time, until the end of your career. Instead, he asks the one question which you had been blocking out for oh-so-long, that you had been putting off since you threw yourself into these festivities.
“What are you going to do?”
6th January, 41 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
You knew what you were going to do.
You knew from the moment you had been called into your first ultrasound scan; by this point, only a few select people knew of the situation. Lewis. Your parents. The delivery driver at Dominoes Pizza whom had given you a strange look when handing over a pizza with no cheese, but three lots of spicy peppers.
Going to your first ultrasound alone had been terrifying; bringing somebody along would have drawn too much attention. You had played a mighty risk by going alone, hoping you wouldn’t be recognised. You didn’t want Mercedes to catch wind of the happenings, instead hoping nobody would openly tweet about your live location.
Your nurse doesn’t recognise you; if she does, she doesn’t show it. She’s polite and kind, makes sure that you haven’t used the bathroom in four hours, something to do with amniotic fluid. The cold jelly on your stomach sends an odd feeling through your body, as if cold cream was balancing on your tummy. There’s a sharp prod, a poke, and then you see the nurse smile.
“Ah, there they are!” She glows.
And there they are. Sat there, in your stomach. A small curve, to anybody else, a completely unidentifiable shape. But to you? The most precious shape that was completely and utterly undeniably yours. How you could have thought that you could go through life without knowing them is beyond you.
That was the moment you knew what you were going to do.
All you had to do now, was tell Toto. No big deal.
23rd February, 89 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
“Horner!”
Toto was known to be larger than life, and his voice only proved that theory as he stormed out of his Paddock Office, completely abandoning any information being presented about Pre-Testing in Bahrain. Instead, he’s seeing red, he’s seeing that Horner’s complete and utter dickhead of a driver has knocked up his winner. His current champion. (With no disrespect to Lewis, of course.)
Your teammate had been there, holding your hand when you had broken the news to Toto, your race engineer and your trainer. Your PR assistant was aware of the situation, currently attempting to make a game plan of how to handle the situation. She was adamant you needed to remain in the paddock; you still needed to be a part of the sporting world, even if you weren’t driving.
At first, Toto thought it was Lewis’ baby, ready to bang both of their heads together and reprimand them for not being careful. When it had slipped whose child it was, (Toto was well aware of your rule too, he was just as confused as Lewis had been when he’d first found out.) Toto didn’t care about anything. More importantly, he didn’t care that your pregnancy wasn’t public knowledge.
Toto had stormed into Red Bull’s garage, much to the widened eyes of Christian Horner. Despite being shorter, he instantly holds himself against the Austrian, arms folded, a smirk on his face at the entrance of the unwanted guests.
“How can I help you, Toto?” He smirks, ready for some remark. Instead, Toto leans to Christian’s ear, murmuring something unhearing to the rest of the garage. You can take a guess to what is said however, judging by how pale the Red Bull’s Team Principle had gone. In one swift move, he motions for Toto and yourself to follow him, calling out to his own team.
“Send Max to my office. Now.” His voice is unrevealing, but his skin is growing paler by the minute.
You had never been into a Red Bull garage, and yet now you sat in Horner’s own office, amazed by the fact their colour schemes and trophies could be carried around the world. Mercedes kept theirs at home, sometimes plain and simple was the way to go. You began to wonder if you should bring your trophies to your next races, maybe it would give the team a reminder of what can be achieved.
“Sit.” Horner motions to the couch in the office. You take a seat almost instantly, overwhelmed by the entire situation. Lewis places himself next to you, an arm around your back protectively. Toto refuses to take a command, instead remaining standing, arms folded, a glare of hatred towards Christian.
“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” The Red Bull team principal scoffs. “I didn’t tell Max to sleep with your little prodigy.” He may not be showing it, but Christian himself was downright livid with his driver. Max needed to focus; the team needed to focus on gaining back a world championship. Max was scarily focused, but when it came to the women in his life; his mother, his sister, his new little girlfriend Christian had seen in the paddock earlier that day, he would change, they became his focus.
“You need to keep that boy away from my team!” Toto retaliates. He could have gone deeper, he was all but ready to drag Max into the middle of the track and hold him there, letting Lewis drive into him at full force. Before any more threats could be thrown across the office, a door opens, the present grin on Max Verstappen’s face wiped instantly upon seeing Toto, Lewis and yourself.
“Max.” Christian starts, arms folded, the voice he used to reprimand his children now present. He can’t continue his phrasing however, before Toto scoffs, pointing an accusing finger towards the driver.
“You!” He roars, instantly forgetting the plead you had given him half an hour before, longing to keep this news as quiet as you could for as long as possible. “You couldn’t keep away; you have ruined my team! How dare you knock her up!” Toto is only stopped when you jump up from your seat, grabbing both of his arms in an attempt to stop his frantic ranting.
It takes Max a moment to process what has been said, he’s always struggled with quick responding when it’s not on a racetrack. It hits him all at once. Your pregnant. You’d slept together a month ago. Without protection, purely in the heat of the moment. Max Verstappen was going to be a father alongside his arch-rival.
“You’re pregnant?” Max can’t help his questioning, catching your eyes for the first time since entering the room. You can only offer him a nod, unable to form words in that current moment. “And…it’s mine? Are you sure?”
Your blood ran cold, you finally understood the rage that your Team Principle. You turn around, eyes darkened, shaking your head in pure anger. “Who else have I slept with, Max? You want to tell me that?” The audacity of this man. How dare he question you.
“You’re not keeping it, right?” Christian is the first to question. Max’s eyes gloss over, coughing lightly before overtaking the conversation from his own Team Principle. “I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.” His own skin mimics that of Christian; he turns as pale as the white lines of a hard tyre.
“You’re not-“ You cut yourself off, instead opting to keep silent. You had nothing else to say. Max had made his stance on the situation clear. “I don’t need you, Max. I can do this myself.” The entire room watches as you pull away from Lewis and Toto, never once looking at the father of your child.
10st March, 105 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
The Monaco Grand Prix was usually the highlight of your year; champagne podiums, speed boats and the comfort of sleeping in your own bed. However, this time you were not watching it from the screen of your car, nor the comfort of the paddock. You’d opted to remain at your apartment. For a start, the headlines which had been spiralling across the media were growing overwhelming. ‘Mercedes driver pulled out of racing until further notice.’ ‘Max Verstappen breaks up with new girlfriend after only weeks together.’ ‘Valtteri Bottas to pose for nude charity calendar.’
Maybe that last one wasn’t to do with your situation; you were all too aware of how your grid buddy could act in his down time.
Your second worry was the fact that your bump was beginning to grow adamant. It had only been around three months, yet the bump seemed almost ballooning. Every piece of clothing you tried on made you feel like it was more and more obvious. You didn’t want anybody seeing what was happening to your body. Besides, it wasn’t like the pregnancy was an entire secret anymore.
You hadn’t heard from Max since that day in the office. Toto had found you crying an hour later, coaxing you to stop for your own health and the sake of the baby. For the first part of the racing season, your unfilled seat had been passed to George Russell. You’d smiled at each interviewer, telling the world you had an injury which made driving next to impossible at the present time. For each Grand Prix, you’d stayed sat next to Toto, cheering on the silver arrows. Maybe you hadn’t seen Max because you barely set foot outside of the garage.
The news had slowly begun to spread from driver to driver, though each remained loyal and hadn’t told the press of your true reasoning for stepping away. Charles had been around in an instant, helping you to talk through what had been happening. He was your neighbour, after all, he liked to check in when he could. You’d had a visit from Daniel, telling you his best friend was a…well, how he put it, ‘a grade-a cunt,’ for how he had reacted.
There was only one person, however, whom you had wanted to speak to. Sebastian had been a close friend, almost a mentor, during your first batch of Formula 1 seasons. He was also a father himself, maybe he would be able to explain to you Max’s stance on the whole thing.
You knew he was visiting Monaco that weekend for the Grand Prix. When your phone buzzed from your living room, you’d assumed it was him asking for you to come and let you into the complex. What you were not expecting, was the text on your phone from none other than the father of your child.
14:05: Max Verstappen
I don’t know if you have me blocked, I’m hoping you do not. I want to apologise for my reaction. It was a lot. I want to be there, for you and our child.
14:09: You
I appreciate the message. Thank you. My next scan is on Tuesday, after Monaco.
14:11: Max Verstappen
I’d like to be there. Could you send me the details, please?
14th March, 109 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
Max Verstappen was not a practical man.
Despite telling him you would meet him at the address you had sent him, he’d shown up to your apartment just before you were set to leave. Standing in the lobby of your apartment complex, a large bouquet of flowers resting in his arms. You could have sworn you’d never seen Max outside of jeans and a Red Bull polo shirt; it was refreshing to see him in crisp shirt and cargo trousers.
“You didn’t have to dress up.” You mumble, looking down to your own outfit; a soft summer dress seemed positively ordinary; hair loose around your shoulders. It was just a scan, after all. It wasn’t as if the two of you would be going on a date; you hated the man stood in front of you. However, a smile is soon nestled on your face when the man offers you the bundle of flowers, offering a warm grin alongside them.
“You look nice.” Max nods, motioning towards the exit of the complex. His car was parked directly outside, as in order to avoid the press whom would undoubtedly be looking for the drivers in Monaco. The flowers decorated your arms, carefully resting them on your lap before adjusting your seatbelt. “Do you need anything?” He looks back to the complex, concerned if you had forgotten something.
“I just need the bathroom.” You mention half-heartedly. Max’s eyes widen, ready to step out of the car and lead you back into the apartment. “Oh-“ You cut yourself off, having to explain the situation. “No, I need a full bladder for the scan, so they can see the baby.” The man nods in understanding, sitting himself in the driver’s seat, looking both ways before beginning to start the route towards clinic.
The car ride between the two of you was unusually peaceful; Max made light conversation, filling you in on the antics of the paddock from that weekend. You can’t hold back the laugh from your lips when he mentions Christian Horner slipping off his high seat when excitedly jumping to his feet. You missed the paddock; you missed the feeling of racing; you especially missed the banter between your friends. You’d have to return, sooner rather than later.
When the two of you pulled into the car park, Max was quick to step out of his seat, opening the car door for you. You offer him a quiet thanks before making your way into the building, side by side. The nurse you had previously seen gives you a smile, delighted to finally see the father of the baby alongside you.
Max had silently followed you into the room; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, quite the opposite. The man was taking in every piece of information that was being given, silent notes in his mind on each aspect. He’d keep the baby safe; he’d keep you safe, too. Ever now the gentlemen, he helps you to lie down on the seat, your bumped stomach revealed through lifting the skirt of your summer dress.
He can’t help but notice the soft underwear decorating your lower half. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked, after all. That’s how you had got here in the first place. His thoughts are soon side-tracked when seeing you wince from the coldness of the jelly and the cramp of the scanning machine. Max’s hand trails, feeling your own resting aside your body. He can’t help but hold onto it, trying to offer you some sort of comfort. Maybe it’s the sudden nerves, but your hand grabs back just as tightly, feeling his thumb rub carefully against your knuckles.
“You okay?” He mumbles, trying to keep a low profile from the nurse. You can only nod, comforted in the way your…rival…was now holding your hand so preciously.
“Now…” The nurse begins. “I wanted to check with you both, you mentioned wanting to find out the gender of your child.” Her question is directed towards you, Max’s eyes darting between the two women in the room. “Of course, if dad doesn’t want to know, he can leave-“
“Oh, no.” Max interrupts, mind racing at a thousand thoughts per minute. “I’d…I want to know too.” He agrees, nodding in synch with you.
“Well, congratulations. You’re having a beautiful baby girl.” The nurse confirms, turning around the screen to you both. The undefinable shape you had seen mere weeks ago had developed, becoming a more shaped being. You could see the baby forming, eyes widening in shock. Your eyes glanced over to Max, his grip tightening on your palm.
You didn’t miss the glossed tears in his eyes. He knew in that very moment that this baby, this moment was…everything to him.
2nd May, 158 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
Overnight, Max Verstappen had truly wiggled his way into your inner circle. The two of you had barely said ten civilised words to one another since meeting all those years ago. Now? There was a string of texts almost every morning, asking how you were feeling, to let him know if you needed anything. You had truly begun to push the limits of his patience. The man had showed up your doorstep one morning with a bag of cinnamon pretzels after hearing your cries down the telephone line.
Right now, the two of you were basking in the bliss of your little bundle of joy; there were still a lot of heavy conversations to come, but the first wave of nerves had passed, you were now simply excited to meet the little being growing in your stomach.
The two of you had developed a successful co-parenting system to work your way through the pregnancy; Max had engrossed himself in endless copies of baby books. Daniel had found him one afternoon in his driving room, highlighting a textbook on what the main causes of a baby crying could be. He’d started to keep a calendar of every appointment that he’d attend alongside you, notes on the dates that you’re feeling a particular sickness or swelling. If you won’t bring it up with a doctor, he would.
Max tries to convince himself it’s to keep his baby safe; of course, you need to remain healthy too, but he doesn’t care about you, not in that sense.
It isn’t until he receives a phone call from you one afternoon, pleading for him to come and collect you from a friend’s house; your car had broken down and your Uber application wouldn’t seem to find you a driver that wasn’t half an hour away. Max had shown up at the doorstep ten minutes later, knocking on the door to signal your arrival. When there was no answer, he took his own incitive to investigate the back garden, hearing the light sound of music, chattering adults and giggling children.
The garden is in full swing; you hadn’t mentioned it was a party; an extravagant one at that. He’s taken aback by the decorations, a giant bounce house and the most enormous birthday cake he had ever seen.
His heart almost stops when he sees you.
You, hair framing your face beautifully, a pale pink dress hugging you in the most delicious way. Your attention is focused to the toddler on your hip, your godson. How on earth could you think you were not ready for this? You pulled faces at the young being his giggles screaming through the air. Max had always thought you were pretty, but now he could only see you as a goddess.
He’s convinced himself, after all. He doesn’t care for you. He worships you.
9th June, 196 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
“I think we should move in together.”
Max’s attention is drawn up from his phone. Christian and himself had been texting backwards and forwards for the past few days; the driver was trying to rework his schedule so he could at least be with you for a week after the birth. It was getting closer; the world now knew of your pregnancy, the media torn between harsh critics and positive glows.
What they didn’t know was the father of the child was your sworn enemy.
Maybe, enemy was a word you didn’t wish to use anymore. A friend didn’t seem right, either. A mix of late-night conversations, spooning ice cream to one another whilst binging a new Netflix series and picking out a bundle of pink pyjamas had drawn the two of you into an undefinable relationship.
“You know…” You continue. “I want…her to have both her parents about. I don’t want her to grow up in a broken household.” It was true; you’d seen how it could affect people, especially the man who was sat by your side. He understood, completely and utterly. After what he had been through, he wouldn’t wish that on anybody, least of all his own flesh and blood. His own baby.
“I missed my mother…a lot when I was younger.” He referenced his parents’ separation, how he had barely seen his mother and sister whilst growing up. “I wouldn’t want that for her.” Max rests a hand on your stomach, a soft smile on his face when he looks at you. Even with no makeup, a hoodie which was way too big for you, you were still positively glowing. “Why don’t we have a look tomorrow? Find somewhere around here with enough space for us all.”
You nod in agreement. “That’s fine, but you’re painting the nursery.” You mumble in response. A small laugh emits from both of your lips. However, yours is soon replaced with a sharp wince, a rumble in your stomach. Max, whom still had a hand resting on the bump immediately stops laughing, both of your eye’s meeting in shock.
“Was that-” He cuts himself off when he feels the movement again. It’s a kick. The baby is kicking.
“She’s awake!” You laugh, placing your hand carefully across Max’s. You gently guide it across your stomach, tracing the sharp movement in your stomach. “We must have woken her up. Sorry sweet pea.” You direct the last part of your sentence to the baby in your stomach.
Max gently removes his hand from your stomach, his head tiling closer to your bump. The baby can hear him. She’s in there, nestled and warm, awaiting her welcome into the world.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He mumbles, voice thick from holding back heavy tears. “It’s your Papa.”
He doesn’t miss the small laugh from you, entirely entertained by this whole situation.
“I know I can’t see you yet, but you’re the most beautiful girl I could ever ask for. Just like your mother.” He finishes, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. Softly, he lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your temple, heads resting gently against one another as the next episode of your series began to play.
29th June, 216 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.
Spa-Francorchamps was the last race on the calendar before the summer break. It was also the last time you would be able to be in the paddock without a baby strapped to your side.
It had been magical, when walking into the Mercedes garage. Cheers had erupted upon seeing their golden girl return to the paddock. Lewis had barely been able to contain himself, pulling you into the tightest hug which could be imagined. Toto had almost started crying, kissing the top of your head and resting a hand on your stomach, declaring the baby as his unborn prodigy.
There had been no end of drivers coming to meet you, too. Charles and Carlos had declared how much they had missed having you around, presenting you with a baby blanket and beanie. Your heart had melted when they explained their mothers had taught them how to knit, both wanting to make a present for you, stitched with love. You’d almost started crying, hormones were in full swing in the third trimester, kissing both on the cheek and thanking them endlessly.
Yuki had walked up to you that afternoon too, presenting a small Tupperware box. He had noticed you’d completely rejected fish, and most of all sushi, so instead had made you a batch which was pregnancy safe. The two of you had tried a piece there and then, declaring it as quite possibly the best thing your tastebuds had found since pregnancy had altered your tastebuds.
Daniel had come to find you, telling you to meet him in his garage, that he had a surprise for you both. Both, meaning you’d probably have to find Max, too.
His garage was only a short walk from where you’d been set up in the Mercedes camp. You’d began to make your way over there, hoping you’d bump into the father of your child on the way. You’d last seen Max that morning, having driven you to the paddock himself. He’d become…fiercely caring since the evening of feeling the baby kick. He’d slept in your bed that night, you are resting against his chest, a form of comfort in the third trimester.
What you hadn’t expected to see, as you turned the corner, was a beautiful girl, hands resting on Max’s waist, her eyes sparkling, lips moving. You couldn’t see Max’s face, his cap hiding any expression, but your heart knew that he’d be smirking, basking in the attention.
Loving the attention of a beautiful girl, one that wasn’t pregnant with his child.
You couldn’t…understand why you had suddenly cared so much about who he was interacting with. When you’d first started this whole…adventure, he’d still been seen in clubs, leaving with different women on his arm every weekend. You’d hit the second trimester; his party and escapades had stopped, his sole attention of women being on you.
Maybe that was it. You’d grown to like the attention of Max. Whether it was as the father of your child or…something else.
Your hormones were truly beginning to overtake you, feeling tears trickling out of your water line. You had to look away at that moment, you couldn’t keep looking at the events unfolding in front of you. Your mind traces back to that morning in Christian Horner’s office, how Max had turned pale, not wanting to be burdened with the birth of his child.
‘I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.’
Maybe he wasn’t. But you were ready to be a mother.
8th August, 255 days since what should have been the-
You couldn’t handle this.
The pain was beginning to seethe through your stomach. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was all wrong, it was happening too quickly.
Since the incident at the paddock, you’d been radio silent towards Max. He wasn’t too sure of how it had come to be. All he had known was you’d taken yourself home from Spa, telling him that you’d needed to fly home to be with your parents before the birth.
One day without a phone call was okay, he suspected it would be due to the time zones. Two was…a little odd. After three, he was frantically packing a suitcase, trying to get hold of anybody who would possibly know your parents’ address. He’d resulted to finding your teammates phone number. After he was met with a string of questions, asking how on earth he had gotten hold of his phone number. When Max had explained you had gone off the grid, Lewis had simply scoffed.
Of course, Lewis had known what had happened. He’d seen you return to grab your bag, eyes glassy as you offered the team a quick goodbye, promising to bring the baby to meet them all as soon as possible.
The driver had been the one to guide you back through the paddock. Despite not racing together for almost six months, he still had your mannerisms sketched into his mind. Eventually, you’d confided in your closest friend, letting the tears fall freely as he guided you back to your Uber, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a silent promise that he would be there if you needed anything, if there were any more thoughts or issues.
He had no issue telling Max his thoughts over the telephone. Despite Max’s answers, there was no excuse. ‘You were hormonal. How did he think you felt when seeing Max with another woman, even if it was innocent, she didn’t seem to be in that stance.’
That was the case. It was an ex-girlfriend, she’d been in the paddock that afternoon, seeking out the world champion in an advancement to get them back together. Max had no intention of going there, not when he was during finding something, some gesture to show you of his advancing feelings over the past few months. That was why he had asked Daniel to get you to his garage. He would be able to surprise you, tell you how he was really feeling, how he loved you, and not just for being the mother of his child.
After copious amounts of pleading, Lewis had eventually sent over the address, giving Max a dire warning as to if he upset you again.
The flight to your home had been fast. He couldn’t thank his assistant enough, getting a hire car set for the moment he stepped out of the airport. However, turning up at your home to find your father, arms folded, and eyebrows raised at Max’s sudden appearance. Your father barely said two words, just told Max you had gone into labour.
Max’s blood had run cold upon that realisation. He wasn’t there; he wasn’t there to hold your hand when the pain started, to hold your hair up and get some coolness to your overheating skin. He wasn’t there. Not for his little girl, and not for her mother. Being a Formula One driver in that evening was the most helpful thing in his opinion, arriving at the hospital in record time.
Car thrown carelessly into a parking spot, he’d sprinted into the reception, a nurse resting a hand on his arm when seeing the pure shock registered on his face. He couldn’t get any words out properly, simply repeating your name, that he was the father of your child. He wanted to see you, he wanted to see his baby.
The nurse nodded, motioning for Max to follow him down a corridor. He didn’t like the coldness of the building. You probably felt so alone. Every time he had come with you to a clinic appointment, he’d notice the change in your demeanour, how you felt uncomfortable. You should have opted for a home birth; you would have been calmer. Safer.
Max eventually reached your hospital room, heart breaking at the sounds from the other side of the door. You were in pain. That much was obvious as he opened the door. Your mother wasn’t present. He knew your stubbornness, knowing that you would have wanted to do this without her. Maybe, you’d want to do this without him, too.
His train of thought was interrupted, hearing a voice he had missed oh-so-much for the past three days.
“Max.” You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. The gas wasn’t working, the epidural hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to feel ever piece of this.
The man sprang into action; in an instant, his jacket was removed, revealing his soft t-shirt and trackpants. A seat was pulled up to the head of your bed, Max sitting himself down, one hand running across the top of your head, the other arm resting by your hands, letting you grip into him as deeply as you needed to.
“Shh. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He mumbles. Soft words of Dutch come from his lips; you’re too far gone to understand his words in English, let alone his native language.
“You- why did you come?” You sob, feeling another contraction wash over your stomach. You can’t help but sob out, overwhelmed by the physical pain of the baby, the emotional pain of Max after seeing him in the paddock with that girl.
“I couldn’t leave the love of my life to meet our baby girl alone, could I?” He responds, leaning upwards to press a soft kiss to your cheek. He can taste the salt from your tears. He swore there and then, you’d never cry again. Not if he was around. You’d stay with him in the paddock, you and his baby girl. He’d make you laugh at every available opportunity. He’d shower you both in gifts; he’d give his girls everything they’d desire. If one day you decided to return to racing, he’d retire there and then to let you peruse his dream.
“Okay, okay. We need to push.” The midwife insists, seeing the pain flush over your cheeks. Max is there, clasping your hands, running a palm across your cheek, promising that oh-so-soon, your baby girl would be here, she would be in your arms, you would be complete.
There’s a sharp scream from you, and then the tiniest cries from the end of the bed.
She was here. Bloody, high pitch screams fill the room as the baby is placed onto your chest.
A wave of relief flushes over you, lying back into the cushions, sobbing in hysteria; your baby girl had been welcomed into the world. Max this time, can’t hold back his own tears, aiding the midwife in cutting the chord, eyes in awe as he watched the midwife gently rub a cloth against her soft skin.
“She’s here.” You whisper, the midwife aiding you in wrapping your daughter in a pink blanket, her wails cooling down, eyes blinking up to her mother. The blue eyes, identical to those of her father.
Her father in question had sat back in his chair, eyes transfixed on the bundle in your arms. What he isn’t expecting is for you to motion your own arms towards him, letting the man cradle his daughter. It’s so…natural. Your heart fills with adoration; how you could ever believe you hated this man was beyond you.
Eventually, the baby is placed into the cradle, deep in slumber. Max hasn’t moved from your side, one arm around your back, both of you transfixed onto the peacefully sleeping child.
“She’s here.” Max repeats for the hundredth time, eyes still focused on the sweet girl. His head turns to you, there’s no better time to say it. “I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner. For not telling you how much I care about you.” He murmurs, hand finding yours, clasping them together.
“Yeah?” You tease, running your free hand through his soft hair, feeling his head press into your touch. His touch subsides, leaning in ever so gently, pressing his lips to your own. It’s soft, it’s unexpected, but it feels so, so right. It’s only interrupted with the soft cries from your baby once again.
“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?” Max laughs, his moment being disrupted by the baby. You can only laugh as he stands up, scooping up the baby into his gentle grasp.
9th August, 1:06am. This was the happiest day of your life.
#F1#Formula 1#F1 x Reader#Max Verstappen#MV1#MV33#Max Verstappen x Reader#Max Verstappen Imagine#Max Verstappen One Shot#Reader Insert#Reader x Max#Formula 1 Imagine#F1 Imagine#Red Bull#Ferrari#Mercedes#Aston Martin#Fantiction#Max Verstappen x You#F1 x Y/N#F1 Fandom#Max Verstappen Fluff#Max Verstappen Smut#Charles Leclerc#Daniel Ricciardo#Lewis Hamilton#Toto Wolff
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Million Dollar Man [LS18 smau]
Lance Stroll x reader [social media au]
Masterlist
Summary: Lance's girlfriend isn't afraid to show how much her boyfriend loves and spoils her. Unfortunately, "fans" seem to think she's a gold digger. But who would Lance and Y/N bee if they just let it slide?
Warnings: A lot of hate towards the reader by online trolls and just toxic fans, at the end she and Lance shuts them up but if you're not in the right head-space to read this, then please don't.
yourusername posted on instagram
liked by lance_stroll, fernandoalo_oficial, astonmartin and 192,344 others
tagged: astonmartin and lance_stroll
yourusername life lately... how about you? 🍰💐
view all 3209 comments
user1 more like: life lately 💸💸💸
user2 LOL
lance_stroll life lately has been great ❤️
liked by the author
user3 Lance don't worry we're going to save you!!
user4 our guy is lyinggggg i can feel it
user5 Oh my god let them live a happy life you trolls🤦♀️
user6 how can you know it's happy when she clearly uses him for money?🤨
user5 And how can you know it's not? Besides I don't think she uses him for anything🤷♀️
user4 then your just as naive as him user5 lol
user7 she's so classy a love it!😻
user8 Can she even drive or she just wanted to take a photo in his car?
fernandoalo_oficial You are slaying Queen!😉
fernandoalo_oficial Did I do it correctly yourusername?
yourusername it's great nando, just please never use that emoji again and you'll be ready do graduate from my gen-z university!
fernandoalo_oficial Damn it I knew all you use these days is this one: 💀
yourusername 💀
user9 OKAY I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ANYONE SAYS ABOUT HER AND LANCE CAUSE I LOVE Y/N AND NANDO INTERACTIONS MORE THAN MY OWN LIFE!!
user10 i'm convinced she holds both aston drivers hostage in her basement and is forcing them to comment on her posts
user11 It's probably not even her own basement but Lance's😭
user12 nah she ain't even that pretty
user13 omg no way this post is the way I found out lance mf stroll has a girlfriend?🤠
user14 GIRL you have so much lore to catch up on
user15 Yeah welcome to the worst wag ever fandom xd
user13 wait I'm so confused... why do we hate her???
user14 bc she's basically a gold digger, like from the moment her and lance started dating she's been posting only about shopping and showing off herself and her bf's money
user12 plus she ugly af
user15 Yeah and there are rumors on twitter about her being really mean to everyone and that the whole paddock hates her and stuff...
user13 okay I get that but tbh we can't believe everything that's on f1 twitter
user14 idc she's a bitch even without the rumors
user15 I can tell Y/N is trying so hard to have the rich girly aesthetic... it's actually embarrassing😂
astonmartin Wow you have a great car right there😍
user16 more like her sugar daddy lance has it lol XD
user17 guys be fr if you had a rich boy you'd be spending his money too!!!
twitter
yourusername and lance_stroll posted on instagram stories
yourusername posted on instagram
liked by estabanocon, lance_stroll, astonmartinf1 and 206,948 others
tagged: astonmartinf1 and lance_stroll
yourusername thank you spa for having me! what a race, congrats to my favourite driver lance_stroll on p9 & his teammate fernandoalo_oficial on p5! great team work, hope to see you on another grand prix in the future astonmartinf1 💚🏆
view all 4022 comments
astonmartinf1 we hope to see you on another grand prix as well Y/N!🤩
liked by the author
user1 you don't have to lie admin, it's waste of money on her... better give the paddock pass to someone else
astonmartinf1 well, we definitely won't give it to you user1, so no need to worry about it 😙
user2 daaaamn, the admin is coming for y'all haters
user3 Of course she had to wear the racing suit... c'mon that's so embarrassing🙄
user4 actually it's pretty normal, I'm pretty sure Max's gf also wore his racing suit at some point
user3 Yeah but I at least like and respect Kelly... Y/N is a horrible gold digger
user4 well then I'm pretty sure it's your problem, not hers🤷♀️
user5 girl stop pretending you care about racing we all know you do it just for pr and cash xdd
user6 Honestly I'm not a Lance Stroll fan, but he deserves someone better than her...
lance_stroll Thank you to my favourite wag! 🥳❤️
yourusername love you baby!!!💞
user7 favourite wag😂 good joke😂😂
user8 am I the only one who finds their interaction cute??
user9 yeah you are user8... like just look at it, it's so forced... wouldn't be surprising if their whole relationship was fake
user10 You can hate on her all you want, but she's actually gorgeous in the third pic😻
user11 YUUUCCKK🤮🤮🤮
user12 you see I would be fine with this post if she didn't have to show off the aston martin car again!!!
user13 Hey did you notice she tagged Nando in the caption and he didn't reply to her? I call it ✨karma✨ lol
user14 maybe he escaped from her basement😭
user15 💚💚
user16 sorry but I can't help it. There's just something fishy about Y/N and I can't bring myself to like her at all
user17 Guys who is this girl and why does she get more hate in her comments than hailey bieber??💀
user18 I hate how she makes the whole Grand Prix about herself
user19 no but fr... like honey, idc about you and your favourite driveeer
user20 Tf?? She literally called LANCE her favourite driver how is that about her... you haters are so dumb🤦♀️
user21 I bet she read the comments on twitter about how she's bad gf for not going to any races and decided to fix her image by this XD
user19 lmfao didn't probably work the way she hoped
messages between Y/N and Lance
lance_stroll posted on instagram
liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel, f1 and 330,219 others
tagged: yourusername
lance_stroll As some of you now, I am not very active on social media. Today I'm making an exception for Y/N, my lovely girlfriend I've been dating for almost a year now. She is one of the greatest, most kind, caring and selfless people I know. I don't know where the idea of our relationship being unhappy, one-sided or even insincere came from, but I would like to make it very clear once and for all that these assumptions are as far from the truth as they can be.
In my life, I experienced a lot of hateful comments and reactions myself. It is not something I wish anyone should have to go through and it's disgusting. I love Y/N with all my heart and I hope that one day, she'll make me the happiest man alive and allows me to marry her, build a family together. No one will ever again speak about her in an inappropriate way, or they'll be blocked and possibly face legal actions taken agains them. I am very serious about this.
Y/N, I'm not afraid to call you the love of my life. I never want to see you cry because of some meaningless hater. Love you to the moon and back, sweetheart ❤️
view all 4823 comments
user1 It's just so heartbreaking how Lance himself had to go through so many waves of hate because of his dad and now he had to watch Y/N go through it too...😓
yourusername love you to the moon and back too lance!!!💖
lance_stroll Wouldn't have it any other way honey!😌
user2 you know it's serious when sebastianvettel shows up
astonmartinf1 once the it couple, always the it couple!💚 proud to say we were never a hater😘
user3 i still think it's fake
fernandoalo_oficial and I think you are fake🤪
user4 LMAO nando come and get the haters lets goooo
user5 That's how you shut them up xd
fernandoalo_oficial how do you children say it? I AM LANCEY/N DEFENDER
user4 yeah yeah nando exactly that or you can say your a lancey/n truther
liked by fernandoalo_oficial
user5 omg I can't believe I just had online conversation with THE Fernando Alonso😭
user4 GIRL ME TOO AND HE EVEN LIKED MY COMMENT😭😭
f1 What a beautiful couple you are!🙌 Hope to see you in the paddock after summer break!😏
user6 "they'll be blocked and possibly face legal actions taken agains them" daaammmnn man is standing on business here
user7 Tbh I never understood why y'all hated on her sm she's literally so beautiful and seems kind as well🤷♀️
lilymhe pretty giiiirl
lance_stroll I couldn't agree more!❤️
yourusername oh stop you two I'm blushing
user8 Can we take a moment to appreciate how beautifully the caption is written?🥹 Lance really has some poetic talent!
liked by yourusername
user9 aaah she's still a gold digger and he's too blind to see it😂
user10 Yeah she probably charmed him in bed or sm
user11 Ohh user9 and user10... I wonder how it feels to know Lance and probably some other drivers hate you🫢
chloestroll My brother and my future sister-in-law!🥰
liked by the author and yourusername
yourusername 🥰🥰
user12 im actually so happy to see y/n replying to some of the comments and just being active without so much hate on her now!!!
yourusername posted on instagram
liked by lance_stroll, kellypiquet, fernandoalo_oficial and 299,102 others
tagged: lance_stroll and dior
yourusername they say if he wanted to he would... I say he wants to so he does 🌹❤️
comments have been limited
lilymhe she ate you jealous people up with that caption
liked by lance_stroll and fernandoalo_oficial
lilymhe also alex_albon me when??
dior Wow!❤️🔥
lance_stroll That's what real men do instead of trolling others on the internet.
yourusername daaammn baby
lance_stroll What? I'm just stating facts 😌
kellypiquet shopping trip to Paris when?😍
yourusername anytime you want!!!💕
astonmartinf1 So lucky to (basically) have you on our team💚
fernandoalo_oficial I call that a slay admin
astonmartinf1 ...should I tell him slay is kinda out dated??
yourusername aaah let him have his moment
fernandoalo_oficial WHAT?! YOU TRAITORS I THOUGH I WAS GEN-Z APPROVED
yourusername 🫢
THE END
Author's note: I hope you liked my first ever social media au story! I'll be glad for every feedback, comment, like, reblog and everything! You can definitely send me asks and requests for another smau's and even 'normal' fanfictions. Have a great day!
#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll#fanfiction#formula 1#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#fernando alonso#x reader#social media au#social media fic#formula one#fanfic#couple#rich couple#aesthetic#kelly piquet#lily muni he#aston martin#aston martin f1#social media#instagram#twitter#text messages#sebastian vettel#chloe stroll#strollonso#f1 fic#dior
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18
am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me
he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him
summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way
warnings: none
pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll
The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.
Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.
"Here, you can have mine."
The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.
"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."
"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."
The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.
"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."
"Really?"
While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.
"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"
"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."
The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.
"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."
She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.
"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"
Y/N scoffed and shook her head.
"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."
"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."
She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.
"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"
"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."
Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.
"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."
She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.
"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."
"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."
She sighed and shook her head.
"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."
"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"
He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.
"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"
"I'll try to meet that condition."
Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.
At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.
Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.
However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.
"There she is."
Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.
"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.
"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."
"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"
She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.
"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."
Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."
Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.
"Lance..."
Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.
"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."
He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Open the gift."
He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.
She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.
"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"
Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."
He chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."
Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.
"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."
Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.
"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."
Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.
The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.
Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.
"Here you are."
The girl jumped, hearing his voice.
"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."
"I needed some fresh air."
Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.
"I can't believe we got tipsy."
Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.
"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."
Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.
"I'm glad you came."
"I'm glad you invited me."
"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."
Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.
"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."
Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."
The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
"You could be my girlfriend."
Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.
"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"
"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."
The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.
"I love you, Lance."
With love.
#f1 imagines#f1#f1 one shot#formula 1#f1 oneshots#f1 imagine#ls18#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll#aston martin#aston martin f1
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I get Carrie White, Candyman, Martin, and RZ Michael comforting an s/o about being “too sensitive” thank you as always Theo
-📽️
Slashers Comforting a Sensitive S/o
Featuring: Carrie White, Daniel Robitaille (Candyman), Martin Mathias, and RZ! Michael Myers
WOOHOO !! HAVEN'T HAD AN EMOJI ANON IN SO LONG !! Anyways thank you sm for the request!! <33
Tagging: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @devil-doll13, @bugginbeetlew
Carrie White
- She empathizes a lot with you, she's used to people poking fun at her for being sensitive too
- I think Carrie would have you lean your head on her shoulder and tries her best to comfort you with her words
- She loves you just the way you are, that people are cruel and if you don't mind her asking, who was it that told you you were too much?
- As calm as she's trying to be, there is a bubbling anger inside of her for your situation
- Carrie wouldn't tolerate her partner being insulted like that, it's okay to drop the names of the person that was being mean to you
Daniel Robitaille
- Candyman isn't always a constant figure in your life despite the relationship you built with him. There's always someone out there summoning him, keeping his legend alive
- However he seems to always appear when you need him the most, and this time was no different
- Thinking about a cold hook gently grazing the side of your face, momentarily distracting you from dwelling on an interaction you had earlier today
- Daniel is taken aback when you explain what's upsetting you, what do you mean "too sensitive?"
- He adores how emotional and sensitive you are, it's just something very human.
-You feel everything more intensely than he does, it can make you more open to other's feelings and he swears he can feel his heart beat again when you shine under his praise
Martin Mathias
- In general, I think Martin isn't the best at comfort. He sometimes panics and ends up making the situation worse
- So seeing you downtrodden and sad puts him off, might make him think he did something wrong
- He'll ask you what's bothering you, but he'll go quiet for a bit, unsure of how to comfort you at first
- Martin is very physical, he'd gently hold your hand and let you rest your head on him
- "They don't know what they're talking about. Maybe they should learn from you and be more considerate of others."
Michael Myers
- Is it too mean to say that while Michael can agree that you're too sensitive, but he still gets angry at who upset you?
- Michael doesn't pay a lot of attention to you when you're distressed, but if he gets the hint that someone else made you feel that way, he's instantly protective
- it gives very much "you're a sensitive crybaby, but you're my sensitive crybaby," y'know?
- Like?? Start talking or he will find out who made you upset
- The comfort only really comes in after he's gone out and taken care of the person
- He pulls you into his lap, still covered in blood, and just holds you there. He doesn't care if you talk or you two spend the moment in silence, it's his best attempt at calming you down
#carrie 1976 x reader#carrie 1976#carrie white#carrie white x reader#daniel robitaille x reader#daniel robitaille#candyman 1992 x reader#candyman 1992#Martin Mathias#martin x reader#martin 1977#martin mathias x reader#rob zombie's halloween#rz michael myers x reader#rz!michael myers#halloween x reader#horror x reader#slashers x reader
335 notes
·
View notes
Note
heyy i love how well written your works are, and i was wondering if there could be another tara carpenter x gp reader?? an enemies to lovers kinda thing, smut/fluff but it is totally up to you!! thankss❤️
All Mine
Tara Carpenter x gp!reader
Words: 2.8k
A/n: thank you!! also kind of a combination of this request and a prompt in this request
Warnings: reader has a penis, hate fuck? i think?, bottom!T, top!R, explicit sex, implication of breeding kink, teasing (lots of it), unprotected sex (your pullout game is weak), implication of alcohol consumption, no ghostface au
MINORS DNI!!
Tara hates three things in her life. You, hairless cats, and soggy bread. In that order too
She could handle hating hairless cats and soggy bread, but you? You were in Tara’s friend group. Tara hated you and to make matters worse, she was the only one that did
You were nerdy like Wes and Ethan, quick-witted and funny like Mindy and Amber, athletic like Chad, charismatic like Quinn, protective like Sam, and (allegedly) nice like Anika. You had nearly every one of her friends best traits, but Tara knew why she didn’t like you. You were really fucking annoying
Along with all of your positive traits, you were loud and obnoxiously social. Not that Tara was antisocial or anything, but god you were on a whole other level. It was mildly infuriating how you could go to a party you knew nobody at and somehow come out with more friends than you started with
All those people and you decided Tara was the one you’d annoy. A nudge to her shoulder made Tara look up from where she was putting her head down
“You look like shit” The brunette doesn’t respond and puts her head back down on the table
“Sam tase someone without your permission again?” Tara could practically hear the smirk in your voice
“Please for the love of god shut the fuck up. Your voice is the last thing I need to hear today”
“Woah, someone’s mad” You stick out your tongue in response at the glare Tara sends your way
“Suck my dick, (Y/n).”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Carpenter”
Tara abruptly leaves the lecture room. You think you really fucked up this time, but let out a breath of relief when you see that Tara didn’t grab her things. She was probably going to the bathroom to escape you. Which, who would ever want to escape you?
Apparently not Tara because she’s back in her seat just a few minutes before the lecture starts
“Aspirin?” You grab the bottle from a pocket in your bag, shaking it next to her
“You have Aspirin laying around?”
“Anika told me you were at a party, I figured it’s the least I could do”
“You’re trying to drug me, aren’t you?”
“If I was trying to drug you, I would’ve offered it to you at the end of class”
“Why weren’t you at the party?” Tara asks, taking the bottle from you hands and shaking out two tablets before downing them with some water
“Missed me?”
“Nope, just surprised you weren’t blackout drunk”
“Good to know you think highly of me. I was studying, thank you”
“You? Study?” Tara scoffs
“Don’t act like the idea is so out of this world”
“Right, because last time I remember you passing up a party was because your betta fish died and you forced all of us to have a funeral for him at the park”
“Trout’s death is not one to be made fun of!”
Before Tara can respond, the professor starts talking and the lesson begins. Unfortunately her head is still kind of throbbing with only mildly wanting to throw up. She had to accept she wasn’t going to get anything done until that Aspirin kicked in. Especially when she can feel you staring at her
The class goes as smoothly as it can and you notice Tara hasn’t made an effort to even try to take notes. The lesson eventually ends and when everyone gets up, the brunette begrudgingly does too
You bump your shoulders together and Tara glares at you with enough power you actually manage to feel fear for a split second until you realize it’s Tara. The girl was like two apples tall. Two and a half on a good day
The brunette doesn’t realize you were handing her a paper so you physically have to place it in her hand. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion
“What is this?”
“Notes, you need them”
“I’m not buying you Raising Canes if that’s what you want”
“Since I’m such a good friend, I’ll give it to you free of charge. Just make sure to bring it back with minimal damage”
“You’re not gonna make me Paypal you fifty bucks?” Tara doesn’t have any classes for the next few hours so you two made a point to walk to your next class. She didn’t know how it started, but you were okay to talk to when you weren’t being annoying
“In my defense, Trout recently died”
“We buried him in the fucking park, I don’t think that costs money”
“It was condolence money. I made everyone pay and I think it was pretty genius”
“I really do wonder how you still have friends”
//-//
Someone knocks on the door of you and Anika’s apartment. When you realize your roommate is probably listening to music that was too loud to be healthy, you get up from your very comfortable bed
You don’t remember ordering food and you’re pretty sure Anika didn’t invite Mindy over, so the person behind the door was probably just the nice old lady across the hall that made cookies for everyone
For better or for worse, you’re met with a Tara Carpenter that’s caught off guard when you open the door. Tara usually sees you in well put together outfits so you can only imagine her surprise when she sees you wearing boxers that outlined your cock and a hoodie that barely covered it up
“Eyes are up here- What brings you to the Mojo Dojo Casa House?”
“Can’t you just let me in?” Tara’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. Thank god you just glossed over… it
“It’s protocol you identify yourself and state why you’re here” You lean on the doorframe, actively blocking the entrance to your apartment. Tara knew this was a losing battle and hated how you looked hot while winning
“Anika and I have a project we need to work on”
“You didn’t identify yourself” you’re wearing that same dumbass smirk you have after telling a horrible joke
“Tara. Tara fucking Carpenter.”
“Unfortunately I don’t think we know any Tara Fucking Carpenters. Guess you can’t come in” you shrug
“God give me patience.” Tara rubs at her temples like you’re giving her a headache
“Isn’t it god give me strength?”
“If god gave me strength, you would be dead.”
“Point taken, but you still need a password”
“You didn’t say anything about a password!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re the real Tara or not. Say a fact about me only the real Tara would know”
The brunette pretends to think for a moment, even putting her hand on her chin and looking off into the distance for effect. When she notices you’re starting to get suspicious of her antics Tara pushes you though the door, successfully getting in without a password or confirmation
You stumble back almost like a cartoon character and you can hear Tara let out a small laugh. You can see the dimples on her cheeks whe she tries to cover it up with her hand
“Nika, your friend’s here!” You lead Tara to Anika’s room, making sure to knock loudly while Tara’s busy either checking you out or trying to blow you up with her mind. It’s unclear, but you have to lean towards the latter
“Isn’t Tara your friend too?” Your roommate opens the door, headphones around her neck
“No.”
“Yes.” Both of you say in unison. The look you give each other is almost comical with how Tara’s glaring while you’re smiling. Anika stares blankly between you two and it eventually starts to make more sense
“Stop eye fucking each other, we have work to do” Anika pulls Tara into her room. You shrug, heading off to probably yell at ten year olds on Fortnite or something
“We were not eye fucking” the shorter girl huffs, sitting on Anika’s bed
“I literally opened my door and thought you two were about to make out”
“I didn’t expect to get interrogated when I came here!” Tara flops onto her back, covering her eyes and trying (and failing) to stop the red that dusted her cheeks
“Whatever, I’ll get you to crack later”
“Kill yourself.”
//-//
Tara doesn’t understand what she’s feeling when she sees some random girl grind against you
It’s like that one scene in Euphoria when Maddy and Nate stare each other down at the school dance, except you were looking far more more bored. That is, until you see Tara glaring at both of you
Like a switch turned on, you’re suddenly more interested in the girl. You encourage her grinding with a hand kneading her hip, using your other hand to take a sip of your drink. And just like Maddy, she’s tempted to find Chad to do the same to you. She doesn’t.
Tara fucking hated you. But she also needed you now.
Making you jealous would take too long. In theory she had the time, but her hunger to taste you was making her do things she would’ve never thought of before. One of those things being grabbing your hand and leading you away from any girl that tried to even look at you.
The girl who was grinding on you calls her a bitch among other things, but Tara knows it’s worth it when she sees you smile at her like she’s your entire world. Because she was your entire world
She leads you into an empty guest bedroom of the house, locking the door before getting close enough to you she can smell the alcohol in your breath
“What’s all this about, Tar?” You grin. Tara doesn’t know if she wants to kiss or slap that smirk right off of your annoying face
“You know what this is fucking about.”
“Do I? I think you should spell it out for me.”
“You know, I’ve had it with your attitude.” Tara jabs a finger at your chest, the back of your knees hitting the end of the bed. In one motion you sit down and bring Tara down with you. You make her sit on your cock
“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking hot when you’re mad?” You smile, finding the blush on Tara’s cheeks absolutely adorable
“Only you.”
“Good. How about we keep it that way, baby?”
“You’re so annoying.” The brunette cups your face with both of her hands, your lips fitting together like they were always meant to
“I know I am” You say in between kisses, your hands finding their way up Tara’s shirt, kneading the spot right under her boob. She forces your hand to stimulate her nipple, eliciting a moan from her mouth
“You’re so pretty, Tar. I can’t believe only I get to see you get all hot and bothered” You smile breathlessly
“Fuck. S-Stop talking like that or you’ll make me like you” Biting a hickey on Tara’s neck, you take of her shirt and her bra in a flurry of heat
“I bet you’ll like me even more when you’re bouncing on my cock” You force Tara to grind on the bulge in your pants, earning you a small whimper that makes you smile
“C’mon, all you have to do is admit you like me and I’ll fuck you better than anyone has” It should be considered torture how much you were teasing Tara. You were biting hickeys on her neck, playing with her nipples, all while a few layers of fabric were the only barriers between your dick and her pussy. Fuck you knew how to overstimulate a girl
Laying Tara on on the bed, you could really tease the brunette better in this position. You can feel the Tara’s wetness through her soaked panties, and you’re sure she can feel the pre-cum leak out of your cock. Your hands are on her hips as if you were thrusting, yet you deny her and your pleasure for the sake of being an ass
“Don’t you want me to ruin you for anyone else? I promise I’ll stretch you out so good no other guys’ cock can fill you up like me.”
“Fuck you. I hate you, you’re s-such a fucking asshole, you know that?” Tara reaches for anything she can hold onto, your arms being the nearest thing
“I can think ways you could ‘hate’ me even more” You smile when Tara reaches to take off her panties but you find her hands first. You intertwine your hands together and the action is so soft Tara almost forgets about the situation she’s in. Almost
“Whenever I masturbate I think of you, did you know that? God, sometimes I have these hookups and all I can think about is you cumming around my cock”
Tara thinks it’s embarrassing how she’s about to cum just by your sickeningly sweet voice and the constant friction between you two. Tara also thinks she’d rather die than miss an opportunity of a lifetime.
Sure you were a cocky pain in the ass, but you were her cocky pain in the ass.
“Fuck- I admit it! I think you’re the hottest fucking person in the world. I like you.” Tara looks straight into your eyes, and the smile reserved only for her makes another appearance
“That wasn’t so hard, was it Tar?”
“I still hate you.” You unbuckle your belt and unbutton and unzip your jeans with watchful eyes. You pull down your boxers just enough so that your cock springs out, making Tara’s mouth water. Fuck you were big
Pulling Tara’s panties to the side, she’s dripping wet when you swipe your finger across her slit
“Fuck- (Y-Y/n)” Tara sings when you lick up her juices with your tongue. She buries her hands in your hair, bringing you closer to her dripping cunt. You moan at her taste and the vibrations are almost enough to get Tara to cum. Almost
You rise to your knees, lining up your dripping cock with the shorter girls dripping pussy. You decide to be evil and rub your dick against her slit before easing your tip into her hole. It was infuriating how slow you were going and Tara remembers why she hated you in the first place
Tara’s whining and whimpering under you and you can’t remember a time where you’ve been happier than in this moment
Tara on the other hand, has never hated you more in her life than in this moment
The younger Carpenter decides to be bold when she grabs your shirt and forces you forward. You’re caught off guard and over half of your cock finds itself nestled tightly in her pussy as you catch yourself with your arms
“Y-You’re sneaky, aren’t ‘cha” With your face so close to hers, Tara realizes you’re as much of a victim to your teasing as she is. She can tell it’s taking everything inside of you not to fuck her raw until your dick is limp and Tara’s legs are sore
“You can go fast. I can handle it, baby” Tara cups your face with her hand, stroking your cheek with such softness like you aren’t literally lodged into her cunt like a dog in heat
With that confirmation, you give Tara a peck on the lips and buck your hips in such a way you hit that spongey spot inside of her
The sound of skin slapping is louder than the blasting music downstairs, but your grunting and Tara’s moaning combined are louder than both. Thank god the owner of the house was your friend because you don’t know if you could come out of that room if this is what Tara sounded like
“Fuck- I’m close” You say a little too breathlessly for your liking
“Don’t p-pull out.” The shorter girl uses your shirt as leverage to keep you inside of her. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion
“T-Too messy, don’t feel like cleaning up.” Tara answers between moans like she can read your mind
The familiar heat you’re so used to finally snaps. Wrapping her legs around yours, you cum with almost a guttural whine. Your orgasm is enough for Tara to have hers and you fuck her through it, making sure none of your cum drips out of her hole
You pull out and a few dribbles of your semen flow out of her cunt. You plug her pussy with your fingers and Tara is far too sensitive to handle it
“D-Don’t tell me you’re tired already?” Tara jokes, but all air in her lungs leave when you let out a laugh of your own
“I’ve got all night, love.”
Tara has to remember to make you buy her a morning after pill.
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#tara carpenter x reader#scream#tara carpenter#scream 6#tara carpenter scream#mindy meeks martin#chad meeks martin#anika kayoko#samantha carpenter#quinn bailey#ethan bailey#wes hicks#amber freeman
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleepy -> pure Ethan fluff here
Ethan’s best friend likes him more than she’ll admit, and he has a habit of sleeping on her.
Tara caught you the first time it happened.
You were at Ethan and Chad’s dorm, studying for your Econ exam with Tara, when you’d found yourself curled up against Ethan, head in his lap, dozing away from boredom.
“Look how cute.” Tara whispered to Chad, pointing her pen at the two of you. Ethan’s head had fallen back to rest against the wall, his eyes closed as the two of you slept.
The next time was at the Halloween party. This time it was Ethan, exhausted from the alcohol and the noise, that had sat next to you on the couch beside Anika and Mindy. And when his head had moved to lay against your shoulder, his breaths slowing as he found comfort in your presence, you’d had to shush Mindy so she wouldn’t wake him up with her loud gossiping.
Most recently, you’d been found by Chad, curled up together under the covers in Ethan’s bed, his arm slung over your waist as your head burrowed in the space between his neck and shoulder.
No one in your friend group understood why the two of you weren’t together. It made no sense—you were always attached at the hip and, whenever you hung out, you always inevitably seemed to be napping with one another. For Ethan, it was because he was constantly stressed, and with you he could relax, breathing in the scent of your perfume and running tentative hands over your soft skin. For you, it was…
Well, you weren’t entirely sure.
So when you began receiving messages from your friend’s shared group-chat you gave a wary glance to Ethan where he laid curled up in a ball beside you, his head in your lap.
Core Four
Chad: Alright Y/N, spill the tea. What’s going on w you and E?
Chad: That rhymed
Chad: lol
Y/N: nothings going on why?
Tara: surrrre
Tara: *image*
Tara: looks like a whole lot of ‘nothing’
Y/N: stopppp when did you take that??
Chad: what the HELLL 🔥🔥🔥
Y/N: Tara delete that pls
Tara: no I’m making it my lock screen 😏
Chad: I thought I was your lock screen
Mindy: As long as his Ghostface ass stays away from me I don’t care who he naps with. Next subject.
Chad: don’t be boring
Y/N: *left groupchat*
Tara: noooo
You sighed, turning off your phone and chucking it to the end of the bed before running your nails absentmindedly through Ethan’s curls. Truth was, you did like your friend. You just didn’t know how to tell him.
“Y/N.” Ethan grumbled, lifting his head a fraction as he blinked sleepily. “What’s going…on?”
“Hey, Sleepy.” You smiled down at him, then squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you under the covers next to him, his head moving to rest on your stomach. “E, what the—”
“Just go to sleep, please.” He grumbled, voice drowsy. “Need your…” he trailed off and your face flushed, but you made yourself comfortable, resting a hand against his head as you relaxed, your eyes slowly closing.
-
“Come on.” Tara was urging, watching as you did your makeup and ignored her. “Just get together all ready I’m sick of this.”
“He’s my friend, Tare.” You argued, raising a brow at her in the vanity mirror. “It’s not like that.”
“Really?” She asked, flouncing over. “Because I heard that Chad says he likes you.”
“Chad likes me?” You asked, confused, and Tara rolled her eyes.
“No dumbass. Ethan likes you.”
You blinked at her for a moment before shaking your head.
“I call bullshit.”
“What kind of friends nap together all the time?” She pushed, approaching to crouch on the floor beside you, crossing her arms and resting them on your legs. “I mean—come on. Come on. The boy can’t keep his hands off you.”
“That’s bull—” your phone rang and you both jumped. You reached out but Tara grabbed it first and you yelped, diving for the brunette as she giggled and ran, answering the call.
“Hey Sleepy.” She cooed, reading off Ethan’s contact name. She shot you a wink as your face burned. “What’s—” she paused. Then she looked at you, a curious expression on her face. “Yeah, yeah. She’s here, hold on.” Tara passed you the phone and you snatched it away, heartbeat quickening as you answered.
“Hello?”
“Y/N.” Ethan’s voice met your ear and you tensed. He sounded…sad? Distressed? “Can you come over? Please?”
“Why what happened?” You asked, already standing up. Screw it, you’d take your makeup wipes with you and remove your half-finished look. Tara was watching you, looking a bit worried, as she handed you your purse.
“I don’t know I just…can you just come?”
“Yeah. Yeah, E.” You said, listening to the phone click as you looked to Tara. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing he—he kind of sounded like…like he was crying or something. All he said was ‘Tara, give me Y/N please.’” She paused. “Is he okay, or—?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry for leaving. Dunkin in the morning?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
So you left, going to Ethan’s dorm as fast as you could. You knew Chad was out with Mindy and Anika, and assumed that that’s why Ethan had called. But why did he sound so…upset?
You used your spare key that Ethan had made you to enter, knocking first, then pushed inside. When you got to Ethan’s room you saw him sitting with his head in his hands, but he soon looked up at you. His expression was pained and you felt a stab of anxiety run through you.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, setting your stuff down as you moved to him, sitting down beside your friend.
“I um..” he trailed off, looking at you then away. “this is embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” You said, reaching out to rub his back. “Tell me what happened.” Baby. You’d almost called him baby at the end of that sentence. You were insanely glad that you hadn’t.
“I have night terrors.” He said after a weighted pause, his eyes shifting to yours. “I cant sleep sometimes. When I’m alone I—I just…I just toss and turn. Everything freaks me out I don’t like to be alone.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him.
“Night terrors? About what?”
“Well,” his face turned a shade of pink and he looked away. “well I was trying to go to bed and then I saw you and—” he paused, breath hitching, and you felt your chest tighten. “It’s fine. You’re here now, right? You’re fine.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself, his eyes darting across your face like he wasn’t sure this was real, and something in you cracked.
“Is that why you’re always so tired with me?” You asked, frowning. “Because you cant sleep alone?”
“No.” He said, and you stared at him in confusion, but he cut you off before you could speak. “I sleep with you because I feel…safe with you.” He seemed embarrassed again and glanced down at his hands. “I don’t feel comfortable with anyone else. Not like—not like you..” he sighed and blinked up at the ceiling, seeming to fight back a wince. “Im totally weirding you out right now, aren’t I.”
You watched him for a moment, contemplative, before you kicked off your shoes. He could only stare as you moved to the opposite side of his bed and shoved your shorts off, left in a huge t-shirt curtesy of Ethan himself.
“It’s not weird.” You said, slipping under the covers, and smacked the mattress next to you. He still stared, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, E. Get in the bed.”
A hesitant laugh left him as he did so, climbing in beside you. It was muscle memory, at this point: your head on his chest, his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You felt his soft breaths on your hair as you settled, adjusting into the familiarity of his body as you rested.
“You know I care about you, right?” Ethan asked into the darkness, his thumb brushing soft strokes against your waist. “Like..more than anyone.”
You smiled against him.
“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Sleepy?” You teased, and he startled you by instantly saying, “Yeah”.
You sat up a bit, looking at him, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks had gone red. You brushed his hair away from his forehead and ran your fingers across his cheek, your head tilting.
“Then do something about it.” You whispered, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, before he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to yours.
-
Core Four
Chad: Y/N?
Chad: Y/N I know you’re getting these messages. I added you back to the groupchat a week ago.
Y/N: what do you want
Chad: my BOY over here says he’s going to his GIRLFRIENDS HOUSE TO WATCH A MOVIE
Chad: WHICH?? GIRLFRIEND???
Tara: WHAT
Mindy: Ew.
Y/N: he has a girlfriend?
Chad: …
Chad: it’s not you??? he just left the house like an hour ago
Y/N: why would you think it’s me??
Chad: BECAUSE
Tara: nooo my fave ship
Mindy: Thank God.
Y/N: *image*
Y/N: idk what movie he was planning on watching because this man is out like a fuckin light
Tara: AHHHHHHHHHHHJOANASKNKSN
Chad: WHAT THE HEEEEEELLLLLL🔥🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅
Mindy: I hate you all.
#ethan landry#ethan landry fanfiction#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry x reader#scream six#tara carpenter#Chad meeks Martin#mindy meeks martin#scream 6
7K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Can I request Lance Stroll x Reader where people think she's with Lance for just his money and was very rude or bullying her until they found out she's from one of the very rich families like that Rothschild family. That's all thank you.
money money money
summary: above^^
pairing: lance stroll x fem! reader
warnings: haters | suggestive tones |
genre: fluff | smau
notes: fyi I don’t follow rich famous families or anything so this might be a bit off 😭
words: 1k
LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO
Instagram
lance_stroll posted to their page
Liked by youruser and others
lance_stroll Summa dump☀️
View all 737 comments
user8382 UHMM A GF???
user018 she’s prob just a gold digger
user632 or she’s just a private person and they wanted to keep their relationship private?
user018 no babe 🫶😘
“So Lance..we saw that you got up to some fun during the summer break, more importantly you launched your relationship!” An interviewer says, like many wanting to pry into the private lives of drivers.
Lance lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, she wanted to keep it more private for reasons so I didn’t argue..” He replies with a smile.
“And do you think she has ulterior motives?”
“Uhm no, that’s a stupid question..” Lance says, giving the interviewer a weird look.
The interviewer lets out an awkward chuckle, “It’s just some people can��t help but assume that she’s using you for your money, hence why she would want to keep it private.”
Lance gives the interviewer another weird look, then laughs. “Oh yeah! She’s definitely using me for my money!” 
Instagram
youruser just posted to their page
Liked by s/n.l/n and others
youruser yeah I only want him for his money 🙄
View all 1982 comments
lance_stroll 🤍🤍
lance_stroll where’s my wallet??
youruser oops?
user8392 wait who is Y/n dating???
user09811 Lance Stroll
used8392 who??
user09811 he’s a formula one driver for Aston Martin
user2991 she’s so real for that 💀
your-bestie actually obsessed with you wtf
youruser 🤭🤍
user0361 omfg they are so hot together 🤭
s/n.l/n when’s the wedding???
youruser stfu s/n
user6841 say it with me! GOLD DIGGER
user7421 k you’re funny
user7421 she literally has like double the money lance does 😭
user3548 someone at Aston Martin is getting fired 😭😭
chloestroll love youuu ❤️
youruser 😘🤍
lailahasanovic love you queen 🫶🫶
youruser 🤍🤍
user62018 how long have they been together??
user00831 in one of her videos from March she talked abt having to go on a date with a guy so a few months
s/n_l/n2 love you sisterr 💋
youruser love you too 💋🤍
“I can’t believe people actually think I’m a gold digger..” You say with a laugh, setting your phone down as you glance at Lance.
"Oh, you mean you're not?" He asks, his voice teasing, eyes glancing up from his phone to look at you.
You let out an offended gasp, “I can’t believe you would say that!” You say with a grin.
"Oh, but I would, and I did sweetie." He says teasingly, eyes not breaking contact with yours.
“You’re a dick Lance..” You say with a chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully as you get up from your seat.
It was a nice day out, you and Lance were at your house, sitting by your pool.
“Hey maybe you’re the gold digger, I do have more money than you..” You add on with a smirk.
"Yeah, right, because I totally need your money." He answers, voice a playful tone, he stands up and walks up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.
“I have a feeling that if I gave you money you wouldn’t be against taking it..” You reply, leaning back into him.
"Maybe I'd take it to shut you up Y/n." Lance says, leaning his face down to kiss the side of your neck.
“Wow, aren't you a charmer?” You say sarcastically with a giggle, pulling away from his grasp.
"You know I am. And you know you love it when I'm like this." Lance responds, grabbing your hips and pulling back against him as he continues to kiss your neck.
“No comment..” You say with a smile, turning in his arms so you’re facing him.
More comments regarding yours and Lances relationship had flooded in.
Your comment sections were filled with them, his too. At first obviously when you guys went public they were easy to ignore, you guys had mostly made jokes about all of it.
But now they started to get at you. Now you weren’t a gold digger, and you knew you should ignore them, but you are human.
“Lance..?” You ask out quietly, shifting in bed to face him. It was late at night, and you couldn’t sleep. Your thoughts overwhelming you.
Lance noticed the way you shifted in bed, a small movement you made, but a noticeable one. He was still wide awake, his mind not shutting up either, as he had been laying awake for hours already.
"Yeah, sweetie?" He asks softly, rolling on his side to face you, draping his one arm across you as he looks at you.
“It’s kind of embarrassing..” You say with a small chuckle, “But you don’t think I’m a gold digger, right?”
Lance's eyes widen a bit, taken aback by the directness of the question.
"Babe.." He pauses, gathering his thoughts, "Why are you worried about what people say?" He asks softly, giving you a light squeeze and a light kiss on your cheek, "It's bullshit. You're not a gold digger."
“I know, but sometimes I can’t help but let those comments in..” You say softly, moving closer into him. “I mean it’s difficult to constantly be judged and looked at..” You add on. You and Lance both knew what that was like.
Lance sighs, he knew exactly what you were going through right now, he had been through the same thing before, he was being criticized by so many people in F1.
"I know, but you really shouldn't care what they think." Lance says, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you in against him, "You know? If we know it's not true, who cares what they say?"
You smile softly at his words, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips, “Yeah you’re right..” You say with a smile.
With time the comments had stopped, you weren’t called a gold digger any more, and on the contrary, Lance was starting to be called the gold digger.
You constantly made fun of him for that.
You let out a gasp, looking at the beautiful pasta dinner Lance made, with candles and soft romantic music playing in the background.
“Lance..” You whisper out with a smile, spotting him sitting in one of the chairs at your dining table. “This is beautiful baby..”
Lance raises a single eyebrow with a smirk at your words, "I’m glad you think so..” He says with a chuckle, moving towards you.
He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you in close, "Now I better not hear any talk about me being the gold digger tonight, understand me?" He asks with a teasing tone, voice laced with affection.
You let out a giggle at his words, “Right of course..” You say with a smile, wrapping your own arms around the back of his neck. You lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips.
Lance smiles against your lips, pulling you closer into his chest. “Want to dance?” He asks with a smile.
“Of course”
Instagram
youruser posted to their story
︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚
radio 🪩: does this make up for my lando fic? 😭 send in any requests!!🤍
permanent taglist: @cixrosie @amajixi @i-wish-this-was-me @nelly187 @hannahwsworld @sltwins @itsprashimusic
#formula one#formula 1#f1#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#f1 imagine#gently weeps fics#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x y/n#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll#ls18#ls18 x reader#aston martin f1#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#formula one blurbs#formula 1 blurb#formula one imagine#formula one fic#formula one fanfiction#f1 wags#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#gently weeps blurbs#f1 x you#formula 1 x female reader#f1 smau#lance stroll smau
845 notes
·
View notes
Text
kiss it better | lance stroll
pairing: lance stroll x reader
genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)
warning: oral sex (m! receiving)
wc: 1.3k
summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.
author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL
- - -
The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.
You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.
Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.
“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”
It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.
“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “
“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.
“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.
“Oh?”
“Oh.”
“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.
Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.
“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.
“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”
You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.
“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.
Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.
“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”
It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.
“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.
You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.
You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.
“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.
“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.
There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.
“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.
“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.
“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.
“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.
“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.
— – – – —
author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷
#lance stroll#aston martin#formula 1 fic#formula 1#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#drive to survive#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x y/n#lance stroll imagine#lance stroll smut#f1 smut#formula 1 smut#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fluff#aston martin f1
976 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spirits in The Rain - Martin - Chapter 1
Series Masterlist
My Everything Masterlist
Word count: 768
Chapter warnings: injury, violence.
Soulmate AU, hurt/comfort, angst, x gender neutral reader
I fired off the last shot I had in my pistol, throwing it to the ground as the man in front of me hit the ground with a dull thud, lifeless. I gasped, staggering backwards before taking off running. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew that I had to get as far away as I could from this place.
I didn’t make it very far, having been weakened from lack of food and water, and especially sleep. My jailers hadn’t exactly taken care of me. I cursed myself for falling for their trap, their offer to help me. The bunker had food, and it was safe, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay there, not after what I had experienced there. Even if they were dead now. I just couldn’t.
I collapsed against a tree, my chest heaving painfully. My ankle throbbed, and my ribs were bruised. It hurt to take a deep breath. It wasn’t long before I struggled to my feet, feeling the need to keep moving. As long as I was in the vicinity of that place, I couldn’t feel at ease. I limped through the woods as far as I could, and I soon came across an abandoned cabin. It wasn’t nearly dark yet, but as badly as I wanted to keep moving, I decided to stop here for the night. The dark clouds hovered in the sky menacingly.
The cabin was sorely abandoned on the inside as well as the out, everything covered in a layer of dust. As I flopped onto the couch, a cloud of dust erupted from it, sending me into a coughing fit that made my ribs pulsate. I groaned, pulling some packaged foods out of my bag that I had managed to snag from them before making a run for it. I ate only part of it, knowing I'd have to ration my supplies.
As I settled down on the couch-after checking the entire place and blocking off any entryways with furniture-I heard the pattern patter of rain on the roof. Before, it would have been a calming, welcomed sound. Now, it only served to further agitate me. My eyes cracked open, suddenly aware that the place was broken down enough to have leaks in the roof. I watched, and sure enough, plump drops fell to the floor from the ceiling across the room from me. I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head and passing out in exhaustion.
The next day, and the day after, and the day after, I wandered through the woods with no destination in particular. I had no idea where I was. Already having been starved and mistreated in the facility, it didn't take long for my condition to worsen, and soon I was barely staggering through the brush, zombie-like. I was barely aware of my surroundings, barely aware of the gnawing pain in my gut, and barely aware of the progressive cold that plagued me until I was shivering constantly.
I broke down against a tree as a violent coughing fit overtook me, causing me to fall to my knees, hunched over defensively. As I straightened up, I heard voices, and feet crunching through the dry leaves. I stiffened, stumbling to my feet as quietly as I could. I gripped the knife at my hip.
Two men in hazmat suits appeared at the edge of my vision. I ripped myself away from the one that had grabbed my arm, shoving the other away from me and stabbing him in the arm before I took off running again, as fast as I could. I heard heavy footsteps chase after me; they were fast and unwavering, even after my own pace faltered not long into the chase as I weakened quickly. My feet began to drag as my pace slowed dramatically, and my foot caught on a root. I pitched forward, unable to stop my head from slamming into something solid. I blacked out instantly.
The men stood above me, peering at me through their hazmat shields. I shrank back, scrambling away from them until my back hit a tree. My head pounded and my vision was splotchy. I shook uncontrollably.
Their heads jerked up simultaneously when more people came running through the brush towards us. I attempted to struggle to my feet while they were distracted, but one of them immediately turned around and knocked me back with a sharp kick to the ribs. I choked out a cry, falling onto my side with a pathetic wheeze. The ground dug into my frail shoulder blades painfully.
"Let them up." A female voice called out.
#The rain#the rain netflix#the rain series#the rain 2019#the rain fanfiction#the rain martin#the rain martin x reader#martin x reader#the rain simone#simone anderson#rasmus anderson#the rain simone anderson#the rain rasmus#rasmus x reader#rasmus anderson x reader#the rain x reader#the rain x gender neutral reader#x gender netural reader#hurt/comfort#angst#fluff#the rain martin x gender neutral reader#martin x gender neutral reader#martin angst#the rain whump#whump#x reader whump#fanfic#fanfiction#netflix series fanfic
16 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
grullasd3papel
Grullas de papel
lordhurk
Lord Hurk
marcrim
❝ longing.
queerym87
It isn't what you think
foxtunes765
foxtunes