#and every second of Pierre on stage

[curiousserpent]

somtimes i randomly remember that absynth number in moulin rouge...

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter five | formula one imagine

chapter five: enter stage left

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

one big car launch with every driver in attendance - what can go wrong?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

whatever bright spark decided that formula one needed one big, fancy car launch must want y/n dead. here she stood in one of the many green rooms in a black dress that’s a little too tight and an absolute pain to sit down in.

on one side of the room george sits in his dressing gown being doted on five different people while he talks down the phone in a tone too loud for the crowded room. kimi, on the other hand, sits on the couch on the other side, having waved off all of the people trying to smear yet another cream on his face.

“are you just going to be haunting me all season?” george said as he hung up the phone. glaring at y/n through the mirror.

“if i’m haunting you, does that mean you did something wrong?” y/n gasps, “am i the skeleton in your closet, georgie?”

the mercedes personnel in the green room were still, almost waiting for it to hit boiling point and all spill over. george and y/n stared each other down, waiting for someone to make the next move. george steadily looked y/n up and down, not being subtle at all. y/n raised her eyebrow at the brit.

“i could get used to you in my colours,” george said with a smirk.

“bore off russell, i don’t wear anything for you. these will be seen as kimi’s colours before you know it.”

a knock on the door signalled the start of the show. george stood up and took off his robe, revealing the new mercedes racesuit for the season. the brit made his way to the door but before he left, he turned to y/n and said, “don’t get too comfortable, i have my eye on you”

“oh georgie, you always have,” y/n flirted before schooling her face, “and how has that worked out for you?”

the brit pointed to his racesuit, “better than it has for you.”

that was a low blow, but y/n was prepared to play it that way if that was the game for the season. george looked at her again, as if to challenge her, but y/n stayed silent though her stare was unwavering. she had said a lot worse about herself to herself after the crash.

with that george turned and left, calling out to alex down the corridor.

“i really don’t understand him,” kimi said, “it was only like a week or two ago he was cussing you out in monaco, then today he checks you out but then threatens you like two seconds later?”

“first lesson of the year, kimi. do not trust a word that man says to you.”

the pair linked arms and made their way out of the green room. there was a gaggle of drivers at the end of the corridor, all decked out in their racesuits except the ferrari boys who were in normal suits. the group fell silent as they all turned to see the new arrivals.

“i didn’t know it was bring your mum to work day?” alex called out as they neared the group, smiling as he came to hug her.

a french-accented voice hollered a ‘milf’ from the back of the group, y/n suspected it was pierre, but paid no mind. an offended squeak followed as y/n looked up to see max delivering a slap to the back of his head.

“i’m just dropping him off, i gotta get to my seat before i’m roped into an interview. i had to sneak in this afternoon, i swear sky sports are like stalking me!”

the group watched along as y/n leaned in to whisper into kimi’s ear, “remember what i told you. smile, be likeable and tell jokes. these people are underestimating you, let them. we’ll do our real talking in the car. good luck and try and have some fun.”

the pair did their ‘handshake’, which really was just a pinky promise, and broke apart. y/n looks back at the group one more time, smiles at max and takes her leave. just a couple paces down the corridor, a voice called out her name.

“y/n, hey!” lewis called, catching up to her quickly, “i didn’t think i’d see you back here tonight.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, to be fair. kimi is technically an adult now, but i still didn’t want to leave him on his own here of all places.”

lewis laughed as the pair looked back at the group. kimi had nestled himself next to ollie, quietly talking to each other with esteban looking over both of them. y/n caught the gaze of esteban and the frenchman gave her a quick nod before inserting himself into the conversation. the height difference between kimi and esteban was comical, but y/n was happy knowing esteban would look out for him in places she couldn’t be.

“i didn’t think you would like the whole mentor role, being so young and everything, but you seem to be doing a good job.”

“thank you lewis, but honestly he makes it very easy,” y/n looked at the group again with a fond look on her face.

lewis brought his hand to her face and made her look at him, “i thought i’d never see that look on your face again.”

y/n looked down and blushed, shaking lewis’ hand off. “i am happy. a lot happier than i expected to be, anyway.”

“i’m happy that you’re happy. i’m happy you’re back, i won’t keep my distance this time, even if you’re in the home of the enemy now.”

y/n laughed, “well i thought it was bad going back to your ex, and look at me now. so maybe they’re not as much as an enemy as you think.”

an announcement from further down the corridor cute the conversation there, lewis tries not to look bothered, but y/n can still tell.

“looks like you’re needed elsewhere, superstar,” y/n said with a wink, “try not to let charles outshine you too much.”

“he wishes.”

y/n watched him walk away and was confused. lewis had never expressed interest in her before, platonic or romantic. even when she was a young rookie with stars in her eyes, she was never on his radar. was she now? the visit in london had been weird and the way his eyes had been fixed on her since she arrived today was even weirder.

y/n didn’t really have the time to be grappling with that struggle today, not with everything else going on. the audience seemed like enough distance between her and lando, but after monaco, there was no real knowing what could happen. george was just as confusing as his compatriot, with harsh words but also a glimmer of something else too.

she needed a glass of champagne pronto.

max watched the interaction between y/n and lewis like a hawk, so focused that he didn’t realise that he had formed quite an audience. nico hulkenberg, kimi, ollie and esteban watched him try and conceal his feelings, but his face showed every thought.

“you want to make it any more obvious that you’re jealous?” nico said, nudging max to break him out of his daze.

“i’m not jealous, i just wonder what they actually have to talk about…”

“you’re not jealous you say? you didn’t even glare at him this much during 2021.” esteban chimed in.

max furrowed his brows and forced himself to look away. he already felt guilty for harbouring these feelings for y/n and now he’s faced with a curious look from kimi, making him feel even worse. he did not want to make the same mistake as lando and george had in the past. he meant it when he said he just wanted to exist with her.

“kimi, how would you feel about having max as your dad?” ollie said, hiding slightly behind esteban.

“he’s very good with the cats?”

“thanks, that’s such a glowing recommendation, kimi, thanks!”

kimi held up his hands in surrender but max couldn’t be angry at the italian - plus he did take very good care of his cats and brando. in fact, he had nearly thrown his back out, much to red bull’s chagrin, building a new cat tower so brando could watch the birds from his preferred spot. the cat had settled in well in his place in monaco while y/n had been staying, the dutchman didn’t want to think too much about what it could mean, but it was on his mind.

“i just mean i caught you googling how to make sure your cat is getting enough vitamin d because you were worried about how cloudy it’s been in monaco?”

kimi tried to backpedal, but his anecdote was overheard by more drivers, bringing them into the conversation.

“are you being for real? vitamins are just pseudoscience dude,” pierre said but isack popped his head into the circle to say, “vitamins are real? and vitamin d deficiency is actually a really huge problem.”

“thank you isack!”

“as if i’m taking health advice from a rookie,” pierre laughed. yuki took his turn to pipe up next, “i saw you eat a whole jar of peanut butter in one sitting last winter break? what do you know about health?”

“why is it gang up on pierre hour? why aren’t we focusing on the real issue here? like how pathetic max is about y/n?”

max sputtered as even more drivers joined the conversation.

“i am not pathetic. brando is practically my son. kimi back me up, doesn’t he love me?”

“he does -” kimi started defending max before charles butted in with a: “calling for help from the other son? we see how it is verstappen.”

this was a losing battle. max just hoped it stayed this light hearted but he saw lando and george approaching the group.

“max is not my dad, but i wouldn’t mind. he drove all the way to nice to pick up my parcel because i didn’t understand monaco postal charges!”

poor kimi was trying to help, but he was just making it inadvertently worse.

“this is making your pseudoadoption last year look like child’s play, oscar,” alex said, earning him a whack from charles.

“kimi is not my son, but that doesn’t mean i won’t look out for him. this is a horrible place to come when you’re already disliked. some people, not naming names, have made it clear they have a problem with him and y/n, so it’s simply my moral duty to look out for him.”

the group quietened down, looking amongst each other.

“why am i so out of the loop, who is bullying this literal child?” nico said, pulling kimi into his chest, the italian letting out a squeak as the german petted him. “so? do tell.”

for two people who were very eager to call y/n and kimi every name under the sun just a week ago, they were very silent in that moment.

“oh! we’re talking about the lovely cocktail party i threw that was ruined by lando and george!” charles blurted out, he grabbed fernando’s hand, “it was so nice, i even brought olives, but they came in spouting all this shit about y/n and kimi and seduction and older women?”

both brits scratched the backs of their necks. the cocktail party drama was not a good move from them, especially so close to the start of the season.

“it wasn’t quite like that?” george hurried out.

“you accused y/n of trying to sleep with me?” oscar said.

“you said that i was going the max verstappen route of getting with an older ‘problematic’ woman?” kimi added from nico’s side.

“you also kinda implicated yourself in y/n’s crash?” alex heaped on for good measure.

“alex!?” george and lando shouted, “whose side are you meant to be on?”

“i’m not on a “side” because i’m not fucking five, but i will point out hypocrisy and stupidity and that’s both of you. come on, it’s 2025 and you guys are still stuck in like 2017.”

“right, i feel really stupid because what the fuck are you people talking about and why wasn’t i invited to this party?” fernando said, a confused look on his face.

“lando and george are still hung up on y/n years later even though she never actually expressed interest in them, max has the best odds on actually sealing the deal and i don’t know, kimi is getting shit because he brought her back and none of them can actually regulate their emotions!” charles said, exasperated, “keep up grandpa, you’ve been here the whole time!”

“i do not have the ‘best odds’ because y/n isn’t a horse, you don’t bet on women?” max bit back.

“actually i bet on women all the time,” yuki said but when he saw how the group were looking at him he added, “ufc, duh!”

even as they were herded towards the backstage, the group continued bickering like children.

“all i’m saying is that your crush is super obvious and you need to be careful! y/n will know and will use it against you, just look at what happened with me and george!” lando hissed at max.

the dutchman glared at the brit, this really had gone too far. “can you like actually give me an example of where she ‘led you on’ i am genuinely curious,” max snipped, “quickly.”

lando immediately looked at the floor and bit his lip. max began tapping his foot with an impatient look.

“well she would be super flirty with me in the videos the team would make us film?” lando didn’t sound convinced, and max didn’t buy a single second of it.

“if that’s what you think flirting is i feel sorry for all of your ex girlfriends, you must be a horrible boyfriend - ouch!” charles was cut off by a shove from george.

“stay out of this charles!”

“i won’t stay out of this, y/n is actually a friend of mine. yeah that’s right she doesn’t hate me because i don’t assume that any girl who is fractionally nice to me is in love with me.”

“lando you basically tortured that girl her entire formula one career, do you need to do it now as well?” max said, “i think this season will be a lot easier for you if you drop this now.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.”

all the bickering surrounding the pair ceased, tension rising in the air. the call for the mclaren boys drew lando out of his stare down with max. the brit joined oscar at the front of the queue and painted on his PR smile.

y/n had found her way to her seat, flanked by natalie pinkham on one side and jenson button on the other. there goes her plans for a quiet evening.

“so the rumours are true,” jenson said before jumping up to give her a hug, “i’ve missed you, rocky”

y/n flushed at the nickname. since her first ever race in formula one, jenson had crowned her his ‘pocket rocket’ which had eventually been worn down to just rocky. she hadn’t heard it in so long, jenson’s appearances being relegated to messages via sara or flowers that only gave away his identity with the use of rocky.

“did sky set up this seating arrangement? are you going to ambush me for an interview?”

“i can’t believe you’d think so low of me,” jenson clutched at his imaginary pearls, “and as if you can say no to me anyway.”

the pair took their seats as the show started. natalie handed her a glass of champagne and whispered in her ear, “you might need this.” well that doesn’t bode well.

the two mclaren drivers made their way out onto stage, joined by zak and andrea. y/n leaned into jenson, “i don’t understand why he insists on being everywhere, have we not suffered enough?”

jenson tried to stifle his laugh, “are you sure you don’t want to work in commentary?”

“i think it’s best i keep my opinion on these men to myself.”

the mclaren spiel followed the closely the same scripts they used when y/n still raced for them, though a healthy dose of constructors champions boasting had been added. a second questionable decision from formula one reared it’s head when nico rosberg asked his first unscripted question:

“so boys, how do you feel about the return of former mclaren driver y/n y/ln to the paddock? excited to see her?”

y/n swore she could see lando’s eye twitch from her front row seat. there was an awkward pause and y/n could feel the rest of the audience tense. even though the general public didn’t know the ins and outs of the fall out, there was definitely rising suspicion.

nico found y/n in the audience and gave her such a shit-eating grin that she almost didn’t care about the situation he just put her in.

“we’re of course over the moon to see her back in the paddock. i know i’ve harboured a lot of guilt as to how i ended up with my seat, so i’m happy that y/n can see me in action and hopefully i can continue to make her proud!” oscar said with a genuine smile, the only convincing one from the men clad in orange.

“continue to?” nico asked, “have you had confirmation of this?”

y/n’s eyes snapped to oscar who despite receiving glares from his boss, continued on.

“we spoke at charles’ cocktail party. i’ve always been a fan of hers and it was great to finally set the record straight. she was a lot more graceful than i would’ve been in her position. to be honest i was a bit of a weepy mess, but she was very supportive. i’m only slightly jealous of kimi…”

“very nice. did you get any insight on her opinion on hungary?” nico pushed, only to be cut off by zak.

“if you so desperately want her opinion on everything, you can wait until you’re on sky’s dime. this is a car launch, no? we’re confident in our car for this season and intend on winning both championships. and do you know how we’re going to do that? with the two drivers on stage right now, not one who was a flash in the pan four years ago.”

you could hear a pin drop in the venue. even lando had a shocked look on his face as he and oscar exchanged a look.

“that’s fighting talk from the man who ended her career, but what do i know?” nico said sharply but then turned to the audience, “ladies and gentlemen, mclaren!”

there was tentative applause from crowd and when y/n and oscar made eye contact she gave him a small smile. this was only the first team…

nico looked for y/n in the front row and gave her a thumbs up to which she shook her head violently. jenson burst out laughing, “well, i don’t think we’ll be having this as the car launch format again.”

“i don’t know about you but i’m throughly entertained,” natalie said, “if nico was like that with mclaren, i can’t wait for ferrari!”

the next few teams were decidedly less dramatic. y/n could see kimi and george lining up next to come on stage and she hoped the italian remembered her advice.

george walked on stage with confident strides, followed by toto and finally kimi. the italian looked out at the audience, squinting from the harsh lights but calming his features when he saw y/n. she gave him a thumbs up and got a smile in return.

“you’re loving this mum role aren’t you?” jenson said.

“you’re making me feel old, stop. but yes i would kill myself if anything happened to him, so i guess so.”

back on stage, nico had started his interview. first toto was being grilled about the hopes for the season and how life at mercedes would be without lewis hamilton. the german was clearly trying to bait his former boss into giving him a juicy soundbite.

“kimi, let’s come to you now. you’re first season in formula one and you’ve already brought in the big guns? y/n y/ln as your mentor, that’s a big statement.”

kimi looked startled and his eyes snapped to meet y/n’s. she nodded to him, urging him to answer.

“why wouldn’t i want a legend of the sport like her as my mentor? she still knows what she’s doing, and if it ruffles some feathers in the paddock at the same time, what’s the harm?”

she was so proud of her protégé. jenson choked on his champagne at kimi’s answer, “kids got balls.”

“well, well, well. you’re not beating around the bush are you? but do tell me, kimi, what’s so special about you that y/n would come out of retirement?”

“i’ll save that answer for australia, nico,” kimi said, surprised by the laughs from the audience, “but maybe i’ve just got a charm the rest of the grid doesn’t?”

“holy shit,” natalie said, “was this the strategy, y/n?”

“i told him to make them like him? are you not entertained?”

nico, for once, was speechless on stage. george huffed next to toto, waiting for his turn to talk. the german clocked onto this and a devilish smile broke out on his face.

“so george, you and y/n grew up together… do you not have charm? as far as we can tell, you haven’t spoken to y/n in years?”

y/n’s mouth dropped open. jenson was right, there’s no way this format, at least with nico hosting, was ever happening again.

“i have more than enough charm, thank you nico. are you going to ask us anymore questions about the season or is it all just tabloid questions from you tonight?”

“tabloid?! well, now that makes me think you’ve got something to hide… but as for your 2025 season, are you afraid that you might lose to an 18-year-old rookie?”

george sputtered in response, “i have no fear of losing, i just beat a seven time world champion, a rookie, no offence, has no bearing on my season.”

“that’s a big claim, george. you better hope you stick to it. it’ll be your sixth season in formula one, do you think you’ll finally be able to claim the number one driver role?”

george’s face was getting redder and redder as he tried to remain calm. he made eye contact with y/n briefly, giving her the subtlest glare he could.

“i think i made a very good case for myself for the last two seasons and toto has faith in me to lead this team back to where they should be.”

nico had a wolfish grin on his face, he was enjoying this psychological torture a little too much.

“you don’t think toto has more faith in kimi, a driver he allowed to skip an entire step on the junior ladder and is giving his formula one debut at just 18? and straight into a mercedes rather than say… a williams?”

george’s shiny mask was starting to slip. this was meant to be a fun event for fans but had descended into a nico rosberg masterclass of making everyone suffer - and for once y/n was enjoying it.

“classy as always, nico,” george said.

“it’s what i do best,” nico laughed to himself, “back to you kimi, are you intimidated at all by your senior teammate? do you think you can make a case for yourself as the number one driver?”

the italian paused for a moment, thinking to y/n’s advice - he needed people to like him.

“i’m more than happy to play a team game to bring mercedes back to the top,” he smiled to toto, “but make no mistake i’m here to win and i won’t just step aside without good reason.”

“well, this is a duo i’ll be watching closely this season. mercedes!”

the trio shuffled off of stage and y/n let out a sigh of relief, she could throw back as much champagne as she wanted now.

another couple of teams made their way past nico’s questioning, but as nico hulkenberg and gabriel bortoleto made their way off of the stage the audience held their breath. next was ferrari.

charles, lewis and fred vasseur made their way on stage, and as has become classic fashion, lewis situated himself as far from nico as possible.

“welcome, welcome. a different line up this year and much to think about, do you think you can finally bring the championship back to italy?”

fred started on what was likely a pre-written script and y/n tuned out for a second. the ferrari boys looked nothing short of glamorous in their tailored black suits with the yellow of the ferrari logo popping on the left breast. both men looked assured, no nerves, just pure confidence - the type of confidence that draws you to a person.

y/n caught lewis’ eye and he gave her a quick wink, something that did not go unnoticed by jenson beside her.

“what was that all about, rocky?” jenson whispered. y/n kept looking forward, ignoring jenson’s stare burning into the side of her head. the brit kept poking her, “i’m not going to stop until you answer me!”

y/n batted his hand away, “i don’t know what you’re talking about old man, leave me alone!”

“i saw that, hell, the whole place saw that! you are aware that is a man 14 years your senior!”

y/n downed her champagne and whispered to jenson, “listen, i don’t know what the fuck is happening! he came to my apartment and he’s being really nice? i don’t know?!”

jenson looked between the two and grabbed his own champagne. “i was teammates with that guy! you might be a grown up now but he’s really old!”

y/n slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughing out loud. jenson did have a point. was lewis actually flirting with her or was he just being nice? was she falling into the same headspace that lando and george were in with her?

“i am not going to get with lewis, jens. he’s just being nice, that’s all. now shut up i want to see if nico makes the brocedes breakup all of our problem.”

nico had finished his interrogation of charles and set his sights on his former teammate. y/n grabbed jenson’s hand in anticipation.

“so lewis, new team, new you? how do you feel coming into a team where charles has dominated for the last five years?”

lewis gives nico a forced smile, “i am excited for the challenge. there’s a lot of changes coming into this season, people leaving and new faces. it’s best to face a challenge head on rather than running.”

“you didn’t run from mercedes? you didn’t want to stick it out and retire with the team that gave you so much success?”

“you’d know all about running wouldn’t you nico?”

y/n dropped her glass of champagne and the rest of the audience gasped but nico did not look phased at all.

“i am happy with my decision, time will tell if you’ll be happy with yours. charles dealt with sebastian, don’t think he’ll roll over for you.”

charles looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but on stage and fred’s face would tell you he’s at the gallows rather than a car launch.

“was in your brief today to make the vibes in here as rancid as possible? as i said i am excited for the season ahead and nothing you can say today will change that.”

lewis took the lead and left the stage, leaving nico alone with a pleased look on his face. the german found y/n’s gaze again and wiggled his eyebrows. if there was ever a man you need to take the heat off of you, he was the one.

there was one final team to go and this entire nightmare of a night would be over. the final team was none other than red bull - nothing could possibly go wrong here could they?

christian, like the other team principals, started with a long-winded spiel that said a whole lot of nothing. y/n smiled widely when she caught max’s eye and he responded with an eye roll directed at christian’s rambling. the dutchman, for a second, had forgotten he was in fact on stage in front of thousands. the pair stare at each other and bite their lips to keep the laughs in.

jenson leaned in again, “not to keep questioning you, but what is happening here? and don’t lie, i know he’s the only one you kept in contact with and who you have been staying with in monaco.”

“it’s nothing! it’s something? i don’t know what it is? we’re just existing together. i think romance in the paddock is the worst thing for me right now. i need to be fully focused on kimi.”

“first of all - we’re exisiting together? that’s so fucking gross. and two - you’re still allowed to have fun?” jenson wiggled his eyebrows.

“not everyone can be the playboy of formula one, stud.”

“true. i’m not sure you have the devilishly good looks to be a playboy - hey”

y/n snatched his glass of champagne and turned back towards the stage just as max took to the microphone.

“so max, do you think there’s a chance of a fifth title in a row?”

max laughed in his signature way, “here i thought you’d gotten all of your aggression out with lewis. we’ll have to see how we line up against the other teams, but you always have to believe you can win every single race, so that’s what i’ll continue to do.”

a quick glance from nico told y/n that her peaceful night hadn’t started just yet.

“you’ll finally have your best friend back in the paddock, are you still excited even though she’ll be in mercedes uniform?”

“i think toto has another thing coming if he thinks she’ll be wearing that ugly uniform,” max said, “but it makes no difference to me what garage y/n is in, we’re like magnets, you can’t keep us a part for long.”

nico hummed, “is that why you were the only one she kept in contact with after the crash?”

“yes? it’s mostly because we’re best friends but also because i’m a decent human being.”

oh fuck.

“how do you mean, max?”

christian tried to butt in, “i don’t think we need to go into that here.”

“oh i’m more than happy to, and nico has been stirring all night, what’s just a little more to add to the pot?”

you could almost hear the audience shuffling to the edge of their seats and for the first time that evening, y/n felt some of the cameras on her. she gave them a small wave and hoped they would pan back to the actual action.

“all i’m saying is that there are a lot of victim complexes in the paddock, it’s full of people who would rather say ‘i don’t know why she doesn’t talk to me?’ rather than do some actual introspection. y/n will talk to you if you’re not an asshole, just as kimi.”

“so you’re saying there’s a truth to the rumours?”

“which rumours? you know, since your employers like to report on so many?”

nico chuckled, “well, the rumours that perhaps the brits in the paddock didn’t get on as well as we were led to believe?”

max smiled, “well, that’s not my story to tell, but i’ve found that if you ask them, they’re more than happy to give you the scoop.”

for a moment, y/n’s heart stopped, fearing that nico would take this as the chance to bring her into the fray. max seemed to sense this as well and added, “but as for me, i’m just happy she’s back in any capacity. i’ve missed my partner in crime.”

“have you spoken about formula one in her break at all? you won all four of your titles in that time?”

“i know she watched it, but we haven’t spoken about it. i respected her boundaries at the time, but i knew she was watching based on some suspiciously timed texts.”

nico laughed, “i’m not sure we can ever stay away from this sport for long.”

“i’m glad that is the case,” max said, more to himself than anyone else.

the red bull boys were ushered off of the stage as nico delivered his closing remarks and announced the musical guests.

“he’s glad that’s the case? oh he’s in deep,” jenson gasped, “you can’t tell me that’s nothing, i rebuke it right this second.”

y/n sighed, standing and heading to the backstage bar. “i really don’t want to think about it jenson.”

“but you’re staying at his house, he’s building shit for your cat and gushing about you on stage!”

“i am well aware, but i don’t really know what you want me to do about that?”

“i want you to get your man and let him treat you how you’re supposed to be!”

y/n picked up another glass of champagne, talking the biggest sip before replying to jenson.

“you’re just as bad as the girls on twitter sometimes.”

kimi bursts through the doors, back in his comfy clothes, and rushes over to y/n. she wraps the italian into a hug.

“i’m so proud of you!”

kimi blushes, rocking back and forth on his feet, “thank you, y/n! i’m so glad we’ve got this out of the way i’m ready to race now!”

jenson laughed along side them, “an eager one, this one. i remember when i had that much energy.”

the rest of the drivers flooded into the room, grabbing drinks or just taking a seat. max, much like kimi, made his way straight to y/n, also pulling her into his chest. he whispered in her ear, “i’m sorry i got carried away talking about you, i just can’t help myself.”

y/n can’t help but feel the butterflies in her stomach at the confession. she was really trying to keep her feelings out of her return to formula one, but seeing max like this was putting a real spanner in the works. the dutchman’s protective nature along side his intense respect for her made her feel special for the first time since the crash.

“i take no offence, maxy. i’ll never say no to a compliment, especially from you.”

the group moves away from the bar and as they settle into their seats backstage, max’s arm wraps around her waist. y/n knew she shouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone but that’s what her heart wanted. the first few weeks into her return and all the drama was wearing on her and they hadn’t even made it to the paddock yet. she snuggled into max’s side, letting the dutchman brush her hair out of her face.

“y/n?” kimi said from the other side of her, “i’m really happy you’re here, and i hope you’ll let yourself have this,” kimi motioned to max, who was deep in conversation with jenson.

“don’t you worry about that, kimi.”

“you’ve punished yourself for years, please don’t keep telling yourself that you’re not allowed this. also don’t wait up for me, i’m going to crash at ollie’s”

kimi said as his departing gift as he went to catch up with ollie and watch some of the music. y/n let herself relax back into max’s hold and her eyes close, all of the pent up stress of the evening rushing out.

“are we really that boring?” jenson asked.

“do you want to get out of here, y/n?” max asked, when y/n flopped further onto him, he took that as his answer.

grabbing her bag, max took y/n’s hand in his and pulled her from the seat. the pair exchanged hugs with jenson and made a quiet exit from backstage. they tried to be as subtle as possible, but nothing is ever secret in formula one.

jenson slid in beside lewis at the bar.

“you want to tell me what your plan is with her?”

lewis looked at his former teammate in confusion.

“i saw that wink and i know you were flirting with her when you went to her apartment. what’s the plan, you’re 14 years older than her?”

“i don’t have a plan? i felt bad about how i was when she was in formula one, i’m just trying to make her feel welcome again.”

“and winking at her at a televised event is definitely going to help?”

lewis scoffed, “i don’t really like what you’re implying.”

“i’m implying that you need to watch your step, seriously. the vultures are just waiting for her to make one wrong step, don’t give them an excuse to call her a gold digger or anything along those lines.”

“and what if i said i did like her?”

“i’d ask you if you actually know her? you didn’t speak to her after the crash, you didn’t speak to her when she was in the sport so i’m confused to where this would have come from?”

“you can drop the dad act jenson, i’m just being friendly. it looks like max got in there first anyway.”

jenson hummed, “not everything is a competition.”

y/n and max climbed into max’s hire car for the weekend and finally let themselves breathe.

“that was a lot,” y/n said, slipping off her heels, “nico really was out for blood.”

“i found it entertaining, but that usually is a death wish for anything in formula one.”

the pair laughed, and as max turned the ignition, y/n’s taylor swift playlist crackled into life.

“are you heading back to your hotel or do you want to crash at mine?” y/n asked as she put her address into the gps, despite max knowing nearly every route across london to her apartment.

“a chance to avoid team duties for as long as possible? count me in!”

“so you don’t want to spend more time with me? just want to avoid your team?”

max placed his hand on her thigh, “you know i always want to spend more time with you.”

the streets were relatively clear at this time with the event still in swing. max weaved through traffic as they entered west london. the dutchman nestled his car in y/n’s spot for her pink cadillac that was still in monaco. y/n started to fiddle with her heels to put them back on, but max stopped her.

he walked round to her side of the car and picked up her up bridal style. y/n giggled and wrapped her arms around max’s neck. the pair made their way up to her apartment as fast as possible, but made sure to say hi to frank who not so subtlety gave y/n a thumbs up and a wink.

the apartment was quiet without the meows of brando who was also back in monaco with jimmy and sassy. max stopped in the kitchen to pour two glasses of water but y/n went ahead to the bathroom to wash off the grime of the event.

she slipped into bed dressed in her pjamas that consisted of some old gym shorts and one of max’s toro rosso shirts. the dutchman knocked on her door.

“come in, maxy.”

max made his way into the room, placing the glass of water on her beside table. he sat on the edge of the bed, “good night, try not to dream of me too much.” the dutchman leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before moving back towards the door.

“max?”

“yes?”

“will you stay with me?”

“always.”

max got under the covers and tentatively reached out to her. sensing the apprehension, y/n turned over and tucked herself under max’s chin. his arms snuck around her waist and for the first time in three years, y/n finally slept peacefully without the images of her crash.

fin.

note: sorry this took so long, i've been a bit of a writing rut but i'm back!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510@savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml 

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: this masterpiece being on repeat made me like this 😵‍💫

HOUSTON'S BEST. | Aaron Pierre

Terry Richmond x Black! Female Stripper Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex, (male receiving) penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), breath play, water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread.

Summary: in which Terry meets an exotic dancer during his deployment and recounts their heated sexual relationship.

you used to strip out of east Atlanta,

probably where you learned all your talents.

He never knew her real name, or anything that was actually concrete to her, but he did know how his hazel eyes stayed trained on the exotic dancer in front of him the first time he saw her, the strobe lights made it a bit impossible to focus in on her face—as well as her many tricks and whirls around the pole. But her silhouette was perfect, and with a body as perfect as hers he was sure her face had to be a perfect match.

That wasn't his usual scene though, he'd been nearly forced there with his homeboys. Due to his recent breakup at the time, and a dreary deployment, his friends swore he needed a night of fun. And obviously their idea of a night of fun, was six deep in an east Atlanta strip club. He didn't usually spend his pastimes in Atlanta strip clubs, blowing his last dollars on a half-dressed woman, but if every stripper was enchanting as this one, he understood.

They introduced her as Houston, something he only understood when he found himself at her apartment. Only a few blocks away, from the club she worked at four nights a week, the other three days were supposedly spent in trade school where she was training to be a dental hygienist.

Not to mention, her face definitely did match her body.

Terry was unsure of how he made it to her quaint apartment the first time. He remembered how she sauntered over to the bar sometime after her set, she sported an oversized jogging suit, her low, brown eyes seemed to stare right through him, her smile was sinful. Everything about her screamed, trouble.

Anyway, even with a couple of shots flowing through him he was sober enough to hear the country edge to her voice—soft, elongated vowels, with that slight drawl that captivated him with each word. For a man who'd been deployed in and out of the states, he knew a Houston accent from anywhere, he'd spent four years there after all. That's where her stage name came from.

She'd never volunteered her real name, and always seemed hesitant when he asked about it. Obviously there was things she was keeping secret from this arrangement, and even three months deep into this said arrangement, she was still just Houston.

Terry never knew how they advanced to sex so quickly, the first time. Maybe it was the amount of alcohol in his system that night, maybe it was how naturally bold Houston was. Maybe it was because she kept casually sitting on his lap, complimenting him. Looking at him with those low, seductive eyes.

But it wasn't the first time anymore. Or the second. Or the third, and that was because Houston kept him coming back. She was a needed stress reliever. She knew what she was doing.

Houston knew exactly what she was doing though. And she was best at the shit too. The art of seduction through her dance—had nothing on her art of seduction in the bedroom. She would stare at him through her long lashes and low eyes, when she had him halfway back in the back of her throat. Coughing, gagging, eyes watery and red, but she still managed to hold that mockingly innocent gaze with him. Her hands nuzzled in the thin material of the strip lingerie she wore for him, vigorously rubbing away at her hard clit. Pleasing him, pleased her—and all that shit pleased him.

"Fuuuuckkk," he'd grunt, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as she fucked her own throat on his dick, almost like she was eager to taste all of him, her tongue swiping the underside of his dick as she eagerly took all of him. Her almost violent gagging and choking seemed to not deter her in the slightest, and it definitely hadn't deterred him either. Both his hands cradling the back of her head as he fucked himself into her throat, his own brows furrowed, lips parted as his grunts and groans seemed to follow one after another, eyes boring into hers. The feeling of the tightness of her throat, around him was unmatched. The way she did this shit like she had no regard for him was unmatched. Breathing clearly didn't matter to Houston. The hardwood flooring underneath them had collected a puddle of the saliva that seemed to pool out of her mouth and off of him, in the process.

"Fuckkk, imma nut! Imma nut, bae—jus' like that!" He rushed out, breathless and slurred. His hips stilling, but she never stopped taking him in, fucking her own throat once again, she looked up at him. His own eyes, slowly falling closed as she kept up her volatile movements.

"Mhm," she hummed on his dick, her blurred vision taking him in earnestly, her own fingers slipping inside her hole once again as she watched his facial expressions hungrily, as she brung him over the edge. The loud, groans queuing her to his orgasm, she pulled back from him with a loud pop. A growing smile on her lips as she stroked him off over her face, the warm ropes of cum painting her face just as she liked. What a messy girl she was, indeed.

She was the best at that shit.

But then again, she was the best at everything. She was definitely the best at doggystyle. Her face pressed into the cushioning of her sofa, his fingers squeezing and kneading the meaty flesh of her hips as she sat on her knees, ass perfectly arched up for him. Tip pressing against the spongy spot that caused the slight trembling in her thighs, and those deep gasping breaths to leave her mouth. Her hands flying up to the arm of the couch to gain leverage to slam back against him, her ass ricocheting off his pelvis with loud plaps. He'd run his thumb over the small butterfly tattoo etched into the skin right on the top of her ass.

"Don't run," he'd coach firmly, his voice stern hands growing tighter around her waist, his knees following hers, a harsh slap to her ass following his words, "don't fuckin' run. I can't get in that shit?" He'd ask over her whimpers.

"Yesssss," she'd slut out loudly, his stern voice and harsh slaps always put her back into motion, taking it like he knew she could.

"Right there, right there, right there!" She'd urgently call out, voice shaky and strained. "Right there, baby! I'm bout to cum, daddy!" Her whimpered voice muffled by Terry pushing her face down into the cushions, his focus solely on hitting against the spot, she repeatedly referred to.

"Where it's at?" He'd mutter, the lingerie of her little strip tease outfit now bunched around her waist, in his grasp as he used it as more leverage to thrust into her. "Where it's at, baby?" He'd ask again when he received no proper response from her, just her inaudible babbling and squealing moans.

"It's right there, daddy!"

"Give it to me then," he coolly replied hand roughly slapping at against her reddening brown skin, "give that shit to daddy, paint my dick. Lemme see it," he'd coax her orgasm right out of her, with her erratic breathing and faltering limbs.

Houston was also the best at missionary. And she didn't even have to do anything in this position, she just always looked so pretty and dazed. Mouth agape, eyes soft and low, darting back and forth between Terry's gaze, and his dick slipping in and out of her slick pussy. Her loud guttural moans would follow behind Terry's soft groans, his hands placed steadily on the back on her thighs, his knees allowing him to steadily drop dick in her. Her walls squeezing around him tighter and breathing hindering, every time he went just a little too deep.

She always looked too good in this position. His hands clamped tightly around her neck, he'd watch the color in her face tint to red. "You wanna breathe don't you? Yeah? Squirt on my dick then, show me how bad you wanna breathe. Show me that shit." He'd taunt, his dick roughly plowing into her, he'd watch with complete adoration as her eyes rolled back, her chest heaving, no sound leaving her lips but he strained breathing as he neared her orgasm. No sound would alert him, just her juices spurting out of her wildly, drenching her lower tummy and thighs, as well as his.

Or maybe she was the best at riding. Balancing her weight on the tips of her toes, her hands fisting the top of the couch on either side of him, strings of sticky arousal from her pussy connected the two, as she milked him up and down with loud sticky plaps. His thumbs and pointer fingers tweaking with her pierced, sensitive mounds. Pulling and pinching at her nipples as he muttered, lewd phrases and exploitative words against the flesh of her neck.

"You gon nut?" He'd ask her at the same time. Watching her nod eagerly over a series of moans. He'd slap against her cheek firmly, not quite satisfied with her non-verbal response. "You gon nut?" He'd ask again.

"Yesss!" She'd cry out, nodding vigorously, big brown eyes brimming with tears, the tightness in her belly threatening to burst open.

"Nah you ain't," he'd reply, eyes staring into hers so casually as if he wasn't having her plow herself onto his dick for his pleasure, "you been cummin' all night. It's my turn."

"Look at you fuckin' yourself on my dick," he tsk'd, his hand coming up once again to firmly slap against her cheek, "you ain't gon tell nobody about this right? Bout how you bein' such a lil easy bitch on my dick, makin' a mess. You ain't gon tell nobody?"

"No, daddy!" She'd stammer out through hindered breaths and broken moans. Her eyes slowly falling open as she continue to fuck herself on his dick, he was making her edge herself, and the shit felt torturous.

"Jus' like that, baby," he'd praise, hands dropping to knead both her ass cheeks as she rode him, "make me nut. Make me nut in this pussy." Hand leaving a series of hard echoing snacks there, until he came deep inside her.

Houston knew exactly what she was doing.

Hope you enjoyed, Houston! <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn @motheroffae @kaylaahisthebestest- @hello-therree

[melosliving]

im not sure if you did this yet BUT HEAR ME OUTTT, what if reader played in a movie with both aaron and kelvin and they are doing a interview together and they both discreetly see reader fidgeting with her hands and dress and try to secretly stop her and then after the interview is over they talk to her about it because its been going on for a minute…

Let me cook girl 😎 thanks for your request baby ❤️❤️

aaron pierre n kelvin harrison jr x actress!reader

you’re a nervous little thing…

warnings : dissociation

Press days are nothing new. You’ve done this a hundred times before—same routine, different city. Bright lights, velvet chairs, a round of staged laughs and knowing glances. Kelvin cracking jokes, Aaron making effortless comebacks, you sitting between them, playing the perfect balance to their chaos. It’s familiar. Easy.

But today, something feels off.

You’re aware of the cameras, the energy of the room, the way your dress sits against your skin—but it all feels distant, like you’re watching from somewhere outside yourself. Your hands won’t stay still, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tapping against your knee, pressing against your rings. The voices around you sound far away, the world slightly out of sync.

Then you feel something. Aaron shifts beside you, the movement so small it’s barely noticeable, but suddenly his knee is pressed lightly against yours. But it his his hand that makes you aware of what you were doing. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t make a show of it, just lets the warmth of his hand seep into you like an anchor.

A beat later, Kelvin exhales through his nose, almost like a sigh, and leans back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests—but one of them, the one closest to you, brushes against your own. The weight is barely there, just the slightest pressure of skin against skin, but it’s intentional.

You breathe in slowly, focusing on that—on them. On the way their presence feels steady, how they’ve closed in around you just enough to remind you that you’re not drifting alone.

“You good?” Kelvin’s voice is low, casual enough that no one else would catch the concern tucked beneath it.

You nod, just once. He doesn’t push. Neither does Aaron. But they don’t move away either.

The interviewer shifts in her seat, oblivious. “So, let’s talk about the chemistry between you three, because it’s insane in this film,” she says, laughing. “Was that something you had to work on, or was it natural?”

Aaron tilts his head slightly, smirking. “I mean, that’s all her. I think she is what makes us look and feel so real.” He nods in your direction. “She makes it easy.”

Kelvin hums in agreement. “Yeah, don’t let her fool you. She’s got people thinking we were actually in love out here.”

You huff a small laugh, trying to shake the fog in your head. “You two were just as bad.”

Aaron turns toward Kelvin with a knowing look. “I did catch you staring a few times.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Excuse You, you were the one looking at my mouth every other scene.”

Aaron raises a brow. “Because you wouldn’t stop licking your lips.” Kelvin gestures toward you. “Well, she kept whispering in my ear, so how was I supposed to focus?”

You blink at him. “That was literally in the script.”

Aaron exhales dramatically. “Didn’t have to say it like that, though.” Kelvin hums. “Yeah, some of those lines felt… personal.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You two are ridiculous.”

Aaron grins, shifting slightly so his elbow just barely nudges against yours. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Kelvin leans in, voice dropping just enough that only you can hear. “You okay now?” You nod again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Kelvin holds your gaze for a second longer before leaning back. Aaron doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers lightly against your knee once—brief, barely noticeable—before returning his hand to his lap.

The conversation moves on, but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. The moment the cameras stop rolling, Kelvin turns to you.

“You been doing that a lot lately,” he says, voice quieter now, more serious. Aaron is watching you too, brow slightly furrowed. “Spacing out like that.”

You hesitate, fingers grazing over the rings on your hand again. “It’s nothing. Just happens sometimes.”

Kelvin tilts his head. “You telling us that, or yourself?” You sigh, pressing your lips together. “Both ? I’m fine.”

Aaron doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, smoothing the fabric of your sleeve, his touch light, absentminded. “You don’t have to go through it alone, you know.”

Kelvin exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah. Next time, just tap one of us or somethin’. Let us bring you back.”

You glance between them, their expressions soft, steady, patient. You nod. “Yeah.”

Aaron studies you for a second longer before giving a small, satisfied nod. Then, because he can’t not do it, he smirks. “Or, you know, you could just sit next to me all the time. Let me hold your hand before you start floating off somewhere.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Here he go.”

Aaron shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, I’m right here—”

Kelvin rolls his eyes. “And I’m right here. Not you trying to steal my shine,”

Aaron smirks, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, but she likes me better.” Kelvin huffs out a laugh, then turns to you, expression playful. “Is that true?”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “I’m literally leaving.”

Kelvin grins. “Nah, we’re takin’ you to get food first.” Aaron hums. “Yeah, you definitely need to eat.”

You sigh, but there’s no real protest. “Fine.”

By the time you check your phone, Twitter is already spiraling.

“Kelvin and Aaron subtly closing in around her when she started dissociating… I need a moment.”

“No one’s talking about how Aaron just naturally reached for her hand without even looking? Hello???”

“Kelvin whispering ‘you okay now?’ with that serious look??? SIR, PLEASE.”

“They’re so soft with her but still manage to be the most unserious men alive. It’s unfair.”

@ melosliving 2025

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 11/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

CHAPTER 11 : SMAU

Serie Masterlist

Lando stirred in his room, wrapped in a sheet, limbs heavy with sleep. The ceiling fan above spun lazily. Outside, the sound of the ocean whispered in through the open windows. 

He blinked once, twice, adjusting to the warmth, to the hum of tropical sun. 

He had slept in, really slept in, the first time in days since he arrived, he’d let himself fall, maybe because it was easier than thinking. Than missing her. 

The smell of fresh fruit and something sizzling wafted through the air. 

Then came the music : loud, sunny, Brazilian pop with too much rhythm for how early it was. And laughter. A burst of it, coming from the kitchen, echoing across the patio. Rebecca and Kika, probably. Maybe Alexandra. His friends were already up and living. 

Lando rolled out of bed, hair a mess, shirtless in old grey shorts. He scratched at the back of his neck and made his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. 

He smiled briefly when he saw the scene, Pierre flipping pancakes, Max already halfway through a smoothie, Carlos and Charles mock-dancing by the coffee machine, all of them sun-kissed and laughing like the world was brand new. 

But even standing in that sunlit room, the warm tile under his feet, the sound of joy all around him.

His heart was still in London. 

In a quiet flat where a ballerina wore his hoodie and kissed him slow. 

He walked past them with a quiet wave and grabbed a banana from the counter, mind still elsewhere. 

And then, his phone rang. 

Her name lit up the screen. 

'Ariana '

His heart stuttered. 

He answered before the second ring. “Ari?” 

“Lando,” she breathed. Her voice was raw. Shaky. Wrong. 

He straightened up fast, banana forgotten. “What’s wrong?” 

“I—” Her voice cracked. “Something happened.” 

His body went cold. “Ari, what is it? Are you hurt? Do I need to come back? Just tell me, I’ll—” 

“No,” she said quickly. “No, don’t come back. It’s not that. It’s not life-threatening.” 

The sound of her breath hitched, and he could tell she was crying. Really crying. 

His voice dropped. “Talk to me.” 

“I hurt my ankle, badly this time” she whispered. “ During rehearsal.” 

He closed his eyes. “Shit.” 

“It’s not broken,” she rushed to say. “But it’s badly bruised. The physio said it needs rest. Four weeks, at least.” 

His mouth went dry. 

“They’ve already transferred my roles to someone else,” she continued, her voice now trembling. “I can’t dance. I had to pull out of everything. They told me to stop immediately. They said if I push it, it could lead to a tear.” 

Lando leaned hard against the wall. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, sobbing now. “It's my fault, I push to much and now I pay the price, fuck what I was thinking...” 

He could hear how broken she felt. The helplessness behind every word. Like her whole identity had cracked with that one injury. 

“I feel like a failure,” she whispered. “Everyone else is working. They’re on stage. They’re doing something. I’m just… alone.” 

“Ari, no—” 

“I am. I’m alone. My friends are all busy. I can’t train. I can’t perform. My contract here is ending. I won’t have a salary until Paris in February. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be if I’m not dancing.” 

Her voice crumbled on that last sentence. 

Lando’s stomach twisted. 

And then, without hesitation, he said the one thing that came to him: 

“Come to Brazil.” 

Silence. 

Ariana sniffled. “What?” 

“Come here,” he repeated. “Come stay with us. With me. You wouldn’t be alone.” 

“Lando…” 

“I mean it.” 

She went quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was small. “I don’t want to intrude. It’s your friends. I barely know them. I’d feel out of place.” 

“You know Max. You know Pietra. They already adore you. And the others? They’re amazing. They’ll love you, Ari.” 

“I wouldn’t even have the budget,” she said, almost apologetically. “Not for a plane ticket. Or a share in the house. I have to wait until my contract kicks back in next month. I can’t just—” 

“Ariana.” 

He cut her off gently, but firmly. 

“I’ll pay for it. Everything.” 

“Lando—” 

“I’m serious,” he said. “Flight, room, food, whatever you need. If you don’t have a swimsuit, I’ll buy you one. If you want mangoes for breakfast and iced tea and a playlist made just for you, I’ll handle it.” 

“But—” 

“I want you here,” he said, his voice steady now. “Not just so you won’t be alone. Because I don’t want to be here without you. I feel off. You’ve been in my head since I left. And if this injury is giving you a rare break, maybe it’s a sign.” 

“A sign?” 

“That you’re supposed to rest,” he said. “Not just your ankle. You. You give so much to dancing. Maybe it’s time to receive something back. Let people care for you. Let me take care of you, please.” 

A pause. 

He could hear her breathing through the line. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It feels too big.” 

“It’s not,” he said. “You already matter to me. And this? This isn’t an obligation. It’s a chance. So just say yes.” 

A longer pause. 

“…okay.” 

His breath caught. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll come.” 

He let out a sound somewhere between a shout and a laugh, running his hand through his hair. “Oh my God, Ari.” 

She laughed too, broken, teary, but real. 

“You sure?” 

“I am,” she said. “I don’t know why. But I trust you.” 

“You won’t regret it,” he promised. “Send me your passport info. I’ll book it now. I’ll be waiting at the airport. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

She sniffled again. “You’re kind of wonderful, you know that?” 

He smiled. “Only because you are.” 

As soon as the call ended, Lando exploded into the kitchen. 

“She’s coming!” he shouted. 

Everyone looked up. 

Max blinked. “What?” 

“Ariana. She’s coming here.” 

Pietra dropped her fork. “Wait, what?!” 

“Tomorrow. I’m booking her flight now. She’s staying with us.” 

Kika clapped her hands. “Yes. Oh my god, I wanted to meet her properly!” 

Carlos grinned. “Is she okay?” 

“She hurt her ankle,” Lando said. “She’s out of rehearsals. She’s struggling, and she needs a break, and I need her here, so she’s coming.” 

Pietra was already grabbing her phone. “She can stay in the guest room next to ours. I’ll go into town for snacks and sunscreen. And dresses. She’ll need something summery!” 

Max raised a brow. “You’re glowing, man.” 

Lando grinned. “I feel like I’ve just won something.” 

He didn’t care about the trip anymore. Not the parties. Not the beach. 

He just cared that she was on her way. 

And suddenly, the house didn’t feel like someone else’s vacation anymore. 

It felt like something was finally beginning. 

The airport was buzzing with the heat of midday sun, the air thick with humidity and travel and the scent of unfamiliar spices drifting from the cafés. Lando stood at the arrivals gate, pacing in a tight little loop in his hoodie and shorts, sunglasses pushed into his curls. He checked the board again. And again. 

Landing: 11:42 — Paris to São Paulo. 

He felt like he was going to explode. 

When her flight finally touched down and the passengers began spilling out in waves of tired faces and dragging luggage, his heart jumped into his throat with every brunette who passed, every girl with ballet posture or a delicate tote bag. 

And then, there she was. 

Wearing a delicate, rosy pink camisole top that flowed around her like soft cotton candy, paired with a white skirt that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. Her sandals tapped softly against the tile, one hand pulling her small suitcase. 

Lando forgot how to breathe. 

She saw him, and smiled. 

It wasn’t the polite kind. It was relief and warmth and maybe a little disbelief that they were actually in the same place again. 

“Ari,” he breathed. 

She walked straight into his arms and he hugged her like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it. She smelled just like he remember and he get lost in the scent of her perfume.

“You’re really here,” he murmured into her hair. 

“I’m really here.” 

He pulled back slightly, hands on her waist. “How’s the ankle?” 

“Still attached,” she said with a soft laugh. “Bruised, but okay.” 

“And you? You need water? Food? Flowers for your hair?” 

“I just need you,” she said, so simply it nearly shattered him. 

The drive from the airport to the house was filled with low music and endless questions. 

Lando had his hand resting gently on her knee, his other on the wheel. “Okay, so seriously. What do you need? Food? Sunscreen? Ice cream? I can buy you every flavor.” 

She smiled. “Lando…” 

“Or, do you want to nap first? Or maybe you want to shower? Or—” 

“I just want to get there,” she said softly, lacing her fingers through his. “Be with you. That’s it.” 

She turned to look at him, her hair catching the sun. “You sure you’re okay with me coming here like this?”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”  

When they arrived, the house burst with sunlight and laughter. 

The open terrace was alive with movement, flip-flops, music, girls in bathing suits and boys tossing balls into the pool. It looked like the setting of a summer dream. 

Pietra was the first to spot them. 

She dropped her drink and ran. 

“Ari !” she yelled, arms flinging around her in a blur of perfume and colorful nails. “You’re here! Oh my god, I was praying you’d come!” 

Ariana giggled, hugging her back. “You did?” 

“Of course! I already picked out a beach dress for you! You will look like a fairy.” 

Then Max showed up beside them, offering a big grin and a warm handshake. “Welcome to paradise, ballerina.” 

Ariana grinned back. “Thank you. And… thanks for letting me crash your trip.” 

“Crash? Please. You’re an upgrade.” 

Lando slipped beside her again, hand lightly at her lower back as he led her inside. “Alright, time to meet the others.” 

One by one, the rest of the group came forward, Rebecca, Charles and Alexandra, Carlos, Pierre and sweet Kika, all smiles, all warm. There were compliments, hugs, drinks passed into her hands, plates made for her with fruit and little snacks. Someone took her suitcase. Someone else offered her sunscreen even though she hadn’t been outside for more than a minute. 

“You look like you belong here,” Rebecca said, admiring Ariana’s outfit. “Seriously, adorable.” 

“That top is so romantic,” Kika added.  

Ariana laughed, blushing. “I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I just… packed summer.” 

“You look like a spring goddess,” Alexandra said, already pouring her a coconut mocktail. 

Lando just stood beside her, glowing with pride, watching everyone fall in love with her the way he already had. 

Dinner that night was laid out under the stars. 

They’d arranged long tables on the patio with glowing fairy lights, tropical flowers, candles. Everyone helped. Lando grilled meat. Max cut up fruit while Ariana was nestled beside Pietra, giggling as the group tossed jokes and playful jabs across the table. 

“So, Ari,” Charles asked, “you’re the one who crashed the go-kart?” 

Ariana covered her face. “No one was supposed to know about that.” 

“Oh, we know everything,” Rebecca said. “Lando talks in his sleep.” 

“I do not—” 

“He said your name last night,” Max chimed in. “Swear on my life.” 

Ariana glanced at Lando with wide eyes. “You did?” 

Lando flushed red. “Fake news.” 

“He said ‘Ari, don’t spin out!’” Carlos teased, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink. 

Everyone roared with laughter. 

Ariana leaned into Lando’s shoulder. “You’re never going to live this down.” 

He looked down at her, eyes soft. “I don’t mind. If it means you’re here.” 

After dinner came the talk of sleeping arrangements. 

Pietra turned to Ariana. “So, we have the guest room, next to ours. It’s cute, has AC, and I put out fresh towels.” 

Lando cleared his throat, standing behind Ariana. “Actually, I was wondering if she wanted to… stay with me.” 

The group quieted just a beat, eyebrows raised. 

“I mean, only if you want,” he added quickly. “I’ve got the biggest bed. No pressure. Just… I sleep better with you there.” 

Ariana looked up at him. Her heart squeezed. 

“I’d like that,” she said softly. 

Lando led her upstairs, making sure she didn't hurt her ankle more and carrying her smaller bag while another friend brought the suitcase up. His hand never left hers. 

His room was airy and clean, a big king bed dressed in linen sheets, a fan humming in the celling, and a sliding glass door that opened to a balcony looking out at the ocean. 

As soon as they were alone, he dropped the bag and rushed to her, arms wrapping around her waist, lips pressing against her mouth in a kiss that was all relief and longing. 

She laughed into it. “Missed me?” 

“Missed you like air.” 

She looked up at him, barefoot in his room, looking at him. 

And smiled. 

“I’m happy I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m happy with you.” 

@landonorris sunset swims, cold drinks, best company 🌊🍻 📍Brazil

@maxfewtrell did you finally smile because i beat you at paddle or bc of the caipirinhas 🤔

@pietrapilao this energy >>> 🫶🏼

@charles_leclerc you forgot to tag your personal photographer

@alexsaintmleux you're literally glowing now 🌞

@pierregasly vibes immaculate tbh 😎

@carlossainz55 this beach trip aged you backwards mate

@landoeditz he looks like he’s breathing again omg 😭😭

@lantern.boy not to be that person but... this is love era vibes 🥹

@sunsetgrid the glow, the smile, the energy... someone is happy now

@f1shenanigans went from "lost boy" to "beach boy" real quick 🏖️✨

@brasilgpqueen this is NOT the same man from two days ago i fear 😭💛

@fastlanefever i’m not saying he’s in love but like... he’s in LOVE.

@drsopenpls the way you can tell he’s healed just by the sunset pics 😭🫶

@pietrapilao

girls summer trip (plus 5 annoying other guys we can’t get rid of) 💖

@maxfewtrell we’re literally the reason you’re having fun stop lying 😭

@charles_leclerc you wouldn’t survive without us be honest 😌

@alexandra_saintmleux girls trip supremacy though 💅🏻

@kikagomes literally forced to bring the boys 😭

@rebeccadonaldson pietra carried the vibes all week tbh ✨

@pierregasly i demand a recount i swear i’m more fun than you give me credit for

@landonorris i’m offended. i’m charming. and helpful. and i bring snacks.

@carlossainz55 5 girls against 5 guys… who's winning? 😎 (comment deleted)

@grandprixgossip HELLOOOOO WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT CARLOS COMMENT 😭

@sunsetpitlane WHO IS THE FIFTH GIRL I’M NOT OK

@paddocktea carlos SAID 5 girls before deleting it 😭 lando you got something to tell us???

@lantern.boy SOFT LAUNCH SOFT LAUNCH SOFT LAUNCH 🚨

@beachvibesf1 bro carlos accidentally exposed lando’s secret gf LMAO

@fasttracklovers not the ballerina girl rumors being alive and thriving again 🩰

@f1wildchild the fandom is in SHAMBLES over a deleted comment 😭

@drsmodeon lando if you’re happy just SAY THAT no need for mystery 💀

@gridgossipers and here we thought we were over sadboi lando… turns out he’s just secretly whipped 🫶

@arianawaves Off dancing for a while, got an injury but nothing serious. I miss my cat but it's good to take some alone time for me as well 🤍🌊

@worrywartsclub is the injury really nothing serious? 😭 sending love anyway!!!

@oceanbby this energy is so peaceful i’m obsessed 😭🩵

@goldenhourspells we love a girl healing and thriving ✨✨

@sunsetfairy the vibes are IMMACULATE 🌺🌊💫

@beachblossom wait is she in Brazil too or am i crazy ???

@balletbabes someone said she’s with “friends” but why it looks like she's in the same place as Lando ??? 🤔

@catmomari okay but who’s taking these pics if she’s “alone” 👀👀👀

@fairytalemess pls let it be lando i’m begging 😭

Comments have been restricted on this post

@f1teaspill 🚨 Spotted! #LandoNorris seen getting cozy with a mystery brunette on a beach in Brazil 🌊 The pair were photographed hugging, laughing, and looking very very close. Fans are speculating this could be the mystery girl hinted at during the past weeks... 👀 No confirmation yet, but judging by these pics, Lando might not be as single as we thought!

@pitlaneprincess NO BECAUSE WHO IS SHE ??? I NEED NAMES 😭😭

@lantern.boy lando was never sad he was just missing her LMAO

@sunsetgrid her looking at him like he hung the stars bye 😭🖤

@f1shenanigans the way he’s clutching her like she’s gonna disappear 😭 real romantic movie behavior

@sadboylando guess we really were clowning ourselves with the single lando agenda huh 🤡

@softforlando she’s so pretty even from the back this isn’t fair 💔

@carlossainzstan i knew it. i KNEW he didn’t go on a couple trip to thirdwheel he was hiding her 😭

@pietrasheart lowkey living for him being this whipped. happy for u king 🫶🏼

@lando4everr if this is who’s been making him smile lately, then i approve 👏🏼

@weneedbetter idk was not Lando more into blonde 👀 not feeling this one tbh

@saltypitstop watch it be another "model" who disappears by the next season 🙄

@haterzcorner why does he always downgrade like i’m sorry but you can do better lando 😭😭

@speedyheartbreak hope she’s not using him for fame

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[hemmingsleclerc]

Charles x reader where we’re going on our Renaissance world tour and our daughter comes out on stage with us (like blue Ivy). Charles + Leclerc family’s reactions and the grids reactions maybe??

World Tour┃charles leclerc

pairing(s): charles leclerc x singer!fem!reader

a/n: I LOVED THIS IDEA OMG!!! Hope u like it 💕💕

𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ ›

‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖

The lights in the sold-out stadium went out and the crowd noise grew louder as the opening chords of the song echoed through the arena. Charles sat in the VIP section, a proud smile on his face as he watched his wife take the stage. Next to him were his mother and brothers, as well as his closest friends, including Lando, Max, Daniel, Oscar with his girlfriend Lily, George with Carmen, Pierre with Kika, and Lewis.

Y/n's voice filled the stadium, moving everyone present. Halfway through the concert, a spotlight suddenly illuminated a small figure walking towards the stage. It was Jules, their daughter, dressed in a mini version of her mother's outfit that night.

Lando gasped and clutched his chest dramatically. "I think I'm going to faint," he whispered loudly, making the others laugh.

Daniel jumped from his seat, raising his arms in the air. "Jules! No way!" he yelled as he began to jump with joy.

Max had tears in his eyes. He dried them quickly, not wanting anyone to see them, but he couldn't help the wide smile that spread across his face. "She's amazing," he said softly, his voice filled with awe as he clutched his head. As the music intensified, Max began to sing and dance, performing the choreography to perfection. "I've never practiced this," he muttered under his breath, although everyone knew he had been doing it for the past two weeks.

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes wide with amazement. "She's amazing," he commented, clearly impressed as he smiled big.

Lily nodded, her eyes shining. "She is a star in the making" she said enjoying the concert too much, as she was a big fan of Y/n.

George was standing, clapping to the beat. "This is amazing! Watch her dance!" Carmen, next to him, was just as cheerful, loudly cheering for Jules.

Pierre put his arm around Kika and they both began to dance together. "Jules is naturally talented," Kika said, her voice full of admiration and emotion. The two began shouting at the top of their lungs in support of Jules, his voices almost drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.

Lewis recorded the moment on his phone, capturing every second. "This is going to be iconic," he said, already planning to send the video to Jules later.

When Jules began to dance alongside her mother, the audience erupted in cheers. The energy in the stadium was incredible. Charles couldn't contain his emotions. He stood up and joined the rest of the drivers as they sang. His heart filled with pride as he watched her daughter share the stage with the same grace and confidence as his beautiful wife.

Lando, now fully recovered from his initial shock, began to dance to the music, his movements exaggerated. "This is the best concert ever!" He declared, spinning around and nearly knocking Max over to the floor.

Max, despite his earlier tears, was now dancing out of pure joy. "I'm having the best time of my life!" he shouted over the music, following the choreography perfectly.

Daniel continued cheering loudly, his voice hoarse but his emotion intact. "Jules, you're amazing, I'm your fan!"

The concert continued with Jules and Y/n performing a duet. As the final notes of the song faded, the crowd erupted in applause. Jules and Y/n bowed as they said goodbye as confetti exploded from the sky and the rest of the dancers joined in to say goodbye.

Charles, almost on the verge of losing his voice, shouted proudly of his wife and daughter.

As the concert came to an end, Charles and his friends headed backstage to congratulate Y/n and Jules. The reunion was filled with laughter, hugs, and a few more tears as everyone celebrated the night.

Charles hugged Jules tightly and lifted her off the ground. "You were amazing, my little star."

Jules laughed and her eyes shone with happiness. "Did you like it, dad?"

''I adored it'' he said while with her other arm he hugged Y/n around her waist to give her a kiss.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Headcanons – Harley Sawyer Being Jealous of Leith Pierre Getting Too Close to You

✩ Request by @yey56 ✩

(Or: How to Witness a Man Experience Every Stage of Rage Without Saying a Word)

🧪 The Setup

Leith Pierre is a flirt.

It doesn’t even matter if he means it or not—he’s just like that.

You? You don’t think much of it.

Harley?

Oh, he thinks about it. A lot.

Too much, actually.

🔥 The Signs That Harley Is Jealous

🧪 1. The Stare of Death™

It starts small.

You and Leith are talking. Laughing.

Harley is Watching.

Unblinking. Expressionless. Just. Watching.

If looks could kill, Leith would be in several different locations at once.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” – Leith, confused.

“Like what?” – Harley, lying.

🧪 2. The Sudden, Unprompted Interruptions

Every time Leith is around you for more than thirty seconds, Harley magically has something urgent to discuss with you.

“We have work to do.”

“You’re needed in the lab.”

“Pierre is a waste of your time.”

“I require your presence. Immediately.”

You: “I was literally just talking to him—”

Harley: “And now you’re not.”

🧪 3. The Aggressive Science™

Suddenly, everything is about work.

You have so much work to do.

You cannot possibly waste time talking to Pierre.

Science is extremely important, and you are needed immediately.

"Since when do you need my help with this?"

"Since now."

🧪 4. The Passive-Aggressive Insults

He starts making comments.

“Pierre is not known for his intelligence.”

“I was under the impression you had better taste in conversation.”

“You do realize he is functionally useless, yes?”

Leith, getting annoyed: “You could just say you’re jealous, you know.”

Harley, instantly pissed: “I would rather perish.”

🧪 5. The Accidental Honesty™

One day, you just call him out.

“Harley. Are you jealous?”

He scoffs. Rolls his eyes. Looks anywhere but at you.

“Jealousy is an irrational emotion.”

“I do not concern myself with such things.”

“That would imply I care.”

…He does not elaborate. He just leaves.

(Spoiler: He absolutely cares.)

🎭 The Aftermath

Eventually, he just gets too annoyed and pulls you aside.

“Pierre does not deserve your attention.”

“…I do.”

Oh.

Oh.

Congratulations. You broke him.

[nubiawrites]

chapter four

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. mentions of kissing, thigh riding, and dry humping. mentions of weed and alcohol. 18+

Summary: Aaron and Iriye toe the line of their connection at a celebration for Paradise Lost.

Notes: Y'all still strapped in. Cause I think y'all gonna hate me with this chapter. The ideas I have for the next chapter will be well worth it. Please reblog, like, or reply, as I love talking about stories and characters. Thank you for all the love so far.

MASTERLIST

It happened so fast, as Aaron would say, when the paparazzi and the press asked about his attachment to the project. Within three days of the first time he tasted whiskey on Iriye’s lips, the studio had sent to the trades that Lanoire Productions Paradise Lost was greenlit, Aaron smiling at the headshots of Tamara and Iriye, focusing on the latter more so. 

Seven days after feeling the weight of her straddling his lap as Iriye got herself off on his clothed length, the announcement that Aaron had been cast went out. He received many texts and calls from family and friends congratulating him on the role. But the one text he had been waiting on was from the woman who sounded so sexy grinding on his lap, nails digging into her neck and lips that were so soft. He was trying to be cool, but he was waiting for it. Two hours after the announcement, he saw her name pop up under his notifications, and he quickly read it, seeing she sent a screenshot of the article and the word congratulations.  

“Congratulations,” He muttered to himself. He didn't want to be rude, so he sent her the prayer hands emoji and a thank you. But the congratulations? It was going to haunt him for a bit.

Fourteen days after tasting the skin of Iriye’s neck, he finally saw Iriye in person. 

Aaron was focused, rerunning the scene with the actress with whom he was doing a chemistry test. Though he was filming on Lanterns, in the moments he had free time, pre-production for Paradise Lost was well on its way. 

Many execs were standing at Video Village, watching Aaron run through the lines with one of three actresses up for consideration for his romantic interest. They finished the scene, and Tamara came over, taking her headphones off her head. She began asking them to try it differently, but he zoned out as he saw Iriye chatting with Davis, the exec on the project. He probably wore rose-colored glasses, but he could tell she was happy. Anytime she was on the lot, she was. From the first time he saw her on the sound stage, taking it all in, he had to know why she was passionate.

Aaron watched as she shifted on her feet, heeled boots underneath a long denim skirt that hugged her curves nicely. The slit in her skirt peeked and showed her legs a little. She wore a graphic design shirt, and though it was simple, she looked all put together. Even if he could only think of how two weeks ago, she was falling apart in his lap from them grinding against each other through their clothes.

“So let's see how that feels?” Tamara stated. The actress, Samantha Ailey, with whom he was running his scene, nodded in agreement. “Aaron, that works?” Aaron nodded, taking in what she said and returning to the scene. He glanced over in Iriye’s direction again and saw her sit by Tamara, her peeking over at him for a second and their eyes meeting. A quick nod from her was all she gave as she returned to the video console.

Aaron turned back to Sam, noticing she was entering the space she had created for Nora, the romantic lead opposite Aaron’s Isaiah. Seeing another actor in their element, pushing and pulling in a scene, was why he was in the career. He loved the collaboration and the exploration you could do with a character. He was right at home when the scene began.

Every time Aaron read one of the words Iriye had crafted, sentences that ran together seamlessly, he was in awe. Since that night they kissed, he had reread the script, making notes and digging deeper into this character. And having fun doing so. Isaiah was quickly becoming one of his favorite characters to dive into.

“Cut!” Tamara said gently, one of the production assistants bringing over a water bottle for him and his scene partner. He thanked them, taking a sip before handing it back.

His scene partner tried to make small talk, and he indulged her, trying to stay present as he peeped over to Tamara and Iriye talking. Tamara nodded before Iriye began walking over to them.

“Hey Sam, how are you feeling?” Iriye checked in. 

“I’m doing good, Iriye. In great hands with Aaron here,” Sam said as she pointed toward him.

“Perfect,” Iriye said, turning her attention to Aaron finally. It felt like she hung the sun as her attention was on him. “So we want to try something different this time around,” 

Iriye explained the scene's underlying vibe to the two. Aaron listened, finding her perspective interesting, as he had a different idea of the scene. Iriye was just about to walk away when he stopped her.

“Yes, Aaron,” Iriye stated as she felt his hand on her arm stopping her.

“I get your reasoning behind the note, but I was wondering if we could discuss it more quickly,” Aaron asked. Iriye weighed her options momentarily before nodding, throwing her hand to Tamara. Their hand signals became apparent, and Tamara spoke to an executive.

“So, in the scene, Isaiah and Nora are weighing their options, their entanglement becoming more apparent and the attraction weighing on them. They know the repercussions, but they're drawn to each other,” Iriye explained.

“Hm. Kind of like us,” Aaron said, keeping his face neutral. Iriye narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Not like us,” Iriye shook her head.

“I said kind of like us,” Aaron replied. Iriye glared at him, and Aaron gave her a small smile.

“Focus,” Iriye breathed. “You guys are giving too much away in the scene. Pull it back. It should be a longing. A marathon. Not a sprint,” 

“I wanna see you again,” Aaron stated.

“You see me, Aaron,” 

“Not like this,” Aaron feigned concentration, but the look in his eyes was something more profound. Iriye tried to keep her cool for professionalism’s sake.

“Prove it. Get through this scene,” Iriye said before returning to video village. If Aaron could grin, he would be showing all his teeth, but Sam came back over, and they were asked if they were ready.

By the end of the scene, Aaron knew he did something right because Tamara clapped, rushing over as the camera test ended.

“We got it, folks. That’s a wrap,” Tamara said. The crew on the soundstage clapped. Aaron stepped aside so Sam could have the room and applause. 

Aaron was already searching for Iriye, seeing her clapping. He was about to walk her way, but an executive pulled her away, and he figured he would have to wait. As a production assistant handed him his water, Nelly came up, clapping her hands for him. 

“Hey big guy!” Nelly said, her loose waves framing her face. “Good job out there,”

“Thank you,” Aaron said, grateful for the woman. “But I owe it all to you, Tamara and Iriye,”

“If you say so,” Nelly said, brushing her shoulder off. “Okay, I have a request of you. And by request, more like a demand,”

Aaron let out a chuckle. As he looked down at the woman, who stood at five foot three, he could tell she was tall in personality.

“What do you need? Another birthday message,” Aaron joked. 

“No, but Auntie Devon thanks you, and you’re invited for dinner anytime you want,” Nelly pointed out. “I’m throwing a bit of a surprise celebration on Tamara’s rooftop for her and Iriye,” Aaron raised his eyebrow at the sentence. “Aaron, I may seem rich in heart and spirit, but I share a two-bedroom apartment with my roommate and her boyfriend,”

“I’m not hating, I swear,” Aaron raised his hands in defense. 

“Good. So you’ll come? It’ll be lowkey. Close friends and people we like only. I can even say cameras and no paparazzi for you,” Nelly joked. 

“No, we don’t have to do that,” Aaron shrugged. “I’ll be there,” Nelly clapped happily.

“Great. Bring something strong. And not just yourself,” Nelly stated before walking away.

Aaron shook his head before returning to his trailer so he could leave for the day.

Aaron stared at himself in his apartment mirror, brushing his waves before leaving the bathroom. He looked around his apartment, ensuring he had everything before grabbing the bottle of Whiskey that the liquor store clerk had suggested. He figured it would taste good on his lips and maybe Iriye’s if he got to kiss her again.

Aaron arrived at the apartment building in Culver City and parked his car in the garage, as Nelly had mentioned in her text message. He made his way up to the floor, knocking on the door. It quickly opened, and Nelly smiled, ushering him in. 

“Thanks for coming,” Nelly moved to take the bottle of whiskey from him. “Let me get you a drink,” She said, ushering him to the kitchen, where there was a counter littered with food and drinks.

A dark skin black woman with a curly bob set out plates, smiling as she saw Aaron.

“Tam and Iri should be here in thirty minutes top,” The woman said before leaning over to shake Aaron’s hand. “I’m Cece,”

“Tamara’s girlfriend, right?” Aaron asked, a big smile taking over the infamous Cece’s face.

“Yes. Nice to finally meet you,” Cece stated. “Your picture currently hangs in my home office, which has become Tam’s office. She says she doesn’t believe in bringing work home, and yet it happens,”

“My bad,” Aaron chuckled. Nelly offered to take his jacket, and he handed it to her before making himself a drink. “Anything I can help with?”

“Nothing really, but I appreciate it, and besides, this is your celebration too, as much as theirs,” Cece said. Aaron nodded as Nelly came back into the kitchen.

“Aaron, let me show you off to everyone,” Nelly said, pulling him along. Aaron followed her outside to the rooftop, where at least thirteen other people, different shades of black and brown, were hanging out. Aaron mingled, enjoying the conversations around him and chipping in when he could. It felt good to exist for a moment.

He was chatting with a cinematographer friend of Tamara’s, sharing the last film they watched with good lighting when Cece rushed outside. 

“They’re coming up. Look alive,” Cece said. Aaron moved to crouch somewhere, trying his best not to spill his half-sipped drink, but with his height, he sat on his ass to hide properly.

He listened for the footsteps after a few minutes.

“I better get girlfriend of the year. I drove across town for Cece’s favorite prerolls,” Tamara lamented. Aaron quickly heard Iriye’s laugh, and he smiled to himself.

“Surprise!” Cece called out, everyone joining in. Aaron stood up, a little of his drinking sloshing in the cup. 

Iriye covered her face momentarily, seeing a mix of her and Tamara’s close-knit friends when she put her hands down. Tamara playfully pushed her, looking across the little crowd and seeing Aaron standing amongst people. Her face warmed as she caught him holding his cup up before sipping.

“Babe,” Tamara said, going over to Cece and kissing her. Everyone hooted and hollering at the pair. 

“We just wanted to celebrate you two, the brains behind Lanoire,” Cece said, pulling Iriye in for a side hug and squeezing her side. “Nelly, get up here,”

Nelly headed for Aaron, pulling him through the crowd. “Don’t forget Aaron,” Nelly pulled Aaron beside Iriye before taking Tamara’s side. Iriye masked how aware she was of Aaron’s body close to hers.

Aaron stepped away a little to give the four of them the space, clapping along with everyone for them. Once things died down, Aaron stood off to the side and let them bask in their moment. Aaron was proud to be there, seeing Iriye’s smile as she enjoyed the spotlight.

Throughout the night, he tried to converse politely with others, but his eyes kept returning to Iriye. She had forgone her skirt and shirt for a denim dress, side peeking out from the sides having cutouts. But she still wore the boots from earlier, making her at least two more inches taller than she was. Whenever he tried getting closer to her, someone came up, or a song she loved popped on, watching her dance and sing the lyrics to the music blasting from the rooftop.

Aaron was about to get another drink when another song came on, the beat he enjoyed. 

Iriye rushed to the makeshift dance floor, hips swinging as she felt loose. All week had been something as she and Tamara prepared for the chemistry test. But from what the execs heard afterward, they all loved it. She felt she could breathe, her mind focusing on the man who had been a part of it all: Aaron.

Iriye saw him holding the wall, bouncing his head to it. If it hadn’t been for the shot Nelly gave her and the drink she mixed up, she wouldn’t have kept her eye on him as she danced. And Aaron was meeting her gaze; the two engaged in a stare-off as Iriye rolled her hips in a circle.

“Fuck it,” Aaron said to himself. He downed the rest of his drink before going over to her, two-stepping to the music. The group dancing around her whooped and hollered as Aaron joined. 

Iriye felt too good, watching Aaron enter her space as they moved together. The music was good, and so were the vibes. She caught his eyes, bright and full of energy. Iriye got closer, dancing with him, feeling like they were just the two on the dance floor. 

I need you so much, it scares me 

Hooked on you clearly 

No matter what I do boy, I'm fucked

Kelly Rowland sang from the speakers, and Iriye saw how Aaron matched her energy. She chuckled as she spun in a circle, playfully throwing it back. She saw the light stutter in Aaron’s dance moves and rolled her eyes.

“Can’t keep up,” Iriye taunted with a smirk. Aaron raised an eyebrow at her.

“You play too much,” Aaron threw back.

Aaron reached out for her hand, and he spun her in a circle, her dancing to the beat of the music before moving closer to him, them both moving in sync.

The song ended, and Iriye took a moment to catch her breath as the crowd dispersed around them, smiling at Aaron as she pulled away from him. “I’m getting a drink,” Iriye said, a mischievous sparkle in her eye as she looked at him. 

“I think I need one, too,” Aaron said. Iriye headed back into the apartment, Aaron following right behind her. Luckily, the guise of being thirsty didn’t bring too much attention to them as they were alone in the kitchen. 

Iriye grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, handing one to Aaron.

“Here you go,” Iriye opened hers, watching him as he uncapped his. She took a sip of hers and swallowed it down, her eyes catching the sight of the tattoo peeking out the left sleeve of his shirt. “Nice tattoo,”

Aaron grinned when she peeped at it, seeing the ape on his bicep. “It’s Sonny,” He moved closer, lifting his sleeve to show her. Iriye looked at the tattoo, letting her fingers trace over the skin. He smiled as her fingers were soft against the skin.

“I always wanted a tattoo,” Iriye admitted. “But I don't think I’m patient enough to sit that long and let them stick me with a needle over and over again. But I can appreciate it on others,” She trailed her nails against it, and he groaned a little.

“I get it, but good things come to those who wait,” Aaron replied, taking another sip of his water. “I mean, look at you.”

“Are you talking about the other night?” Iriye said softly. 

“Yes, I am,” Aaron stated. “I can’t stop thinking about it,”

“What part?” She looked at him through her eyelashes.

“When you were on top of me. Quite the image burned into my brain,”

“Me too…” Iriye looked towards the balcony, wondering if anyone could see them.

“Look at me,” Aaron stated. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful of your space. I know I left last time afterward because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. But I want to take whatever this is at your pace. Whatever this is,” He moved his hand to trace up her arm.

“What if I don’t know what is going on between us? Because whenever we’re alone, and there’s alcohol involved, we are too busy kissing each other,” Iriye pointed out. 

“Not right now, though,” Aaron raised an eyebrow at her.

“But I want to kiss you. Since today. Since the last time I kissed you,” Iriye admitted. “Maybe even before that,”

Aaron was about to say something when they heard the door to the balcony open, and he moved beside her. They both watched as one of Iriye’s friends rushed to the bathroom. She chuckled before turning to him, her brown eyes peering up at his.

“Did you drive here?” Iriye asked. Aaron nodded. “Do you think you can drive us to your place?” Aaron straightened up more.

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” Aaron grinned.

“Okay. Just give me an hour. I’ll leave, and then five minutes later, you call it a night,” Iriye planned. “I’ll wait for you downstairs,”

“You are full of surprises,” Aaron smirked. 

“We’re two adults consenting to whatever this is,” Iriye stated. She took another sip of her water before heading back to the balcony.

Aaron tried his best not to check his watch too much while mingling with the others, but his eyes sought out Iriye. He found that she was acting wholly unfazed or maybe just good at hiding it. 

As the time ticked away, it was getting harder to focus, especially as he watched her legs in the boots she wore, how he would love to trail his hands up from her boots to her thighs to see how they felt. He wondered how they would look on his shoulders as he did the things he had daydreamed about with her.

He was broken out of his thoughts as he realized Iriye was doing her rounds. He was supposed to listen and wait a few minutes, but based on how she looked, he knew he should have been patient. He was growing impatient. He walked over to Cece and Tamara, who were hugging Iriye. 

“Cece, thank you for the hospitality. I had fun,” Aaron said. Cece moved to hug him, and he saw Iriye’s eyes looking at him. 

“Anytime,” Cece said. Tamara moved to hug him as well. 

“I get it. You’re like a big teddy bear,” Tamara stated as she hugged him.

“Someone smoked a little too much,” Iriye shook her head at her friend.

“I earned it. We earned it,” Tamara stated. 

“You’re not gonna walk out alone, are you?” Cece asked. “Aaron, do you mind walking her out on your way,”

“Not at all,” Aaron nodded, looking at Iriye. Iriye smiled politely before moving to hug them again. 

“Have a good night,” Cece said. Iriye and Aaron walked out of the apartment, Aaron watching her from behind as she went to the elevator.

“I thought we had a plan,” Iriye pressed the button on the elevator. 

“I thought I would hasten the plan,” Aaron shrugged. Iriye shook her head, and then the elevator opened. Aaron let her go in first before following. She pressed the garage button and moved close to Aaron to kiss him…

The door stopped closing due to a hand, and Iriye and Aaron moved apart as quickly as possible. But Nelly was quicker. 

“Your jacket,” Nelly said, her eyes looking between the two. Iriye just stayed on her side of the elevator. Aaron smiled charmingly at Nelly before pushing the elevator door back to grab his jacket. 

“Thanks, Nelly,” Aaron said, hugging her. Iriye moved to hug her next, Nelly chuckling.

“Night, Nelly,” Iriye said as Aaron held the elevator door for them. Nelly stepped back out of the way. Aaron let the elevator doors move as she heard.

“Don’t hurt him, Iriye,” Nelly teased. And the charming smile left Aaron’s face and turned into shock as Iriye chuckled. 

“How did she?” Aaron was shocked. 

“The mirrors,” Iriye tapped the mirror behind them in the elevator. Iriye laid her head back against the mirror. She chuckled as Aaron leaned close to her ear. 

“In any other situation with you, I would be thankful for a mirror,” Aaron said lowly, Iriye's laughter seizing. Oh, she was in for it. AN: Hey... so how we doing after this? @bluewatersfairy @coquitobby @honeysilkandcinnamon @insaneevanity @meleekabenjamin @theogbadbitch @slowlysteadycoffee @ashanti-notthesinger @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @mysticalbiscuitalien3 @irishmanwhore @alonahh @grooveoftiro @gabriellalover @ovohanna24 @ticalsstallion @strawberrymoon45 @hi888888sworld @msuncensered @yurfavdealer @honeys-archives @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @niggaronnn @aritannahrocks1300 @htnqueen305 @333symone @appelle-moi-si-tu-te-perds-numb6 @bombshellbre95 @wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

@bae1305 @fakxmbj @n3utral98 @truilyglori @whore-for-loki @wrecklessabandonment @secretlifeoofmarpessa @purpletigerpanda @invertedempress @disc0fairy @barbiezolanski @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @jaszys-fantasy @poshprincess88 @bigestyoutoo @sugarcookie-23 @hxneyclouds @notapradagurl7 @honeys-archives @goldenjasssy @oscarisaaclovebot

[daniiwrites]

Fire We Make - Chapter 1

Hello lovelies... Those of you who have been following my works for a while have read this one before. It's being reworked a tiny bit, replacing Chadwick with Aaron Pierre. I really wanted to finish this story, but obviously, after Chadwick's death, I never did.

So I'm trying again. :) Reworking this to fit a different timeline and a different love. So bear with me. I hope you enjoy this.

Pairing: Aaron Pierre and OC, Nailah Monroe (face claim is Justine Skye)

Warnings: Minors DNI.

Summary: Nailah Monroe is a young production assistant who gets the chance of a lifetime. She was just trying to live the dream and meets the love of her life in the last place she was looking: work.

Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter 1

April 13, 2022

It had been a long time since she’d been to her mom’s hometown of New Orleans, Louisiana. Too long in fact. She took a deep breath, catching the familiar smell of fresh baked goods and brewed coffee. Nailah Monroe had arrived just a few hours earlier, excited to be working on her next project, a film called Rebel Ridge. Her homeboy Joe, the second assistant director, had gotten her the job running first team and she was super excited. She’d been asking the universe for bigger and better and it felt like it was finally happening. Here she was, working on a multimillion dollar movie and working her way up the ladder. 

Soon come. Her dreams were manifesting right in front of her.

Although she loved Los Angeles, it was nice to get a break from the city. Nicer to have a steady paycheck for a few months. Camera tests were tomorrow and after that, they were scheduled to start filming on the eighteenth. Her mom had been excited when she’d told her that Don Johnson was on the cast but Nailah was more intrigued by the male lead, a young actor named Aaron Pierre. She hadn’t had the opportunity to meet him yet, but just based on the photos she’d see of him…. Good Lord. What a beautiful specimen. Even in a photograph, his stare was something else. Those eyes were crazy beautiful. She’d done a bit of googling on the flight here and she’d found some snippets of his theater work. Nailah had never once crossed that line at work and dated an actor, but Mr. Aaron Pierre was sorely tempting her toss those values to the side and ride his thigh to kingdom come. 

Girl.. control yourself. Its just a man.

Like always, Nailah prepped her clothes for tomorrow and gathered everything she’d need for work. Although she’d worked with Joe before, the rest of the crew was new to her and she wanted to make a good impression. In this business, people liking you and wanting to work with you again was the key to booking jobs. You could be excellent at what you did, but if folks couldn’t stand to be around you, good luck finding your next gig. This film’s AD department was pretty stacked. There were four additional production assistants, including her, and three ADs. She’d heard of their key PA but hadn’t worked with him before. After all the good things she’d heard, she was really looking forward to meeting him tomorrow. As with every job, she could feel the nerves building in her belly. She wasn’t actually nervous…. It was more just the anxiety of meeting a bunch of new people and hoping all the actors she’d be working with her cool. No pre-madonnas please. Nailah had been lucky so far and wanted to keep that streak going.

Day 1: Camera Test

Second Line Stages

8 AM

Soft echos and murmurs filled the large sound stage as the camera team and lighting department worked together to get everything set just right for this morning’s work. One of the first things Nailah had done when she’d arrived was introduced herself to all the department heads who were there, letting them know that she was running first team and wanted to be of assistance whenever possible. Nailah often stood out on set. She was usually the only woman on her team and nine times out of ten, the only Black woman in the department. She’d also come to develop a signature look thanks to her lash artist and friend. Her lash extensions were a vibrant mix of purples, pink tipped turquoise and dark blues and paired with her usual curly hair, people often described her as the pretty PA with the purple lashes. A glance at the call sheet let her know that her number one, Aaron, should be arriving anytime now. After a quick walkie check, she headed out to meet him in front of the stage. The harsh New Orleans sun was already blazing and Nailah slid her dark shades over her eyes. 

A sleek black SUV pulled up, parking in one of the designated parking spots. The back door opened and Nailah sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she watched the movie’s star unfold his big body from the luxury SUV. 

“Goddamn…” she murmured softly before schooling her face and radioing her bosses. “Number one has landed.”

Nailah pushed herself off the wall, a friendly smile on her face as she walked towards the SUV.

“Good morning!”

The moment those deep green eyes of his landed on her, she was lost. His gaze was so piercing that it felt like in that brief moment, he saw all of her. She swallowed hard before relaxing, letting her eyes drop briefly to his lips.

“Good morning,” he said, his deep baritone sending all kinds of inappropriate tingles through her body. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aaron.”

He flashed a friendly smile and stuck his free hand out to her, his other hand gripping an iced coffee. His massive paw swallowed her hand.

“It's nice to meet you too. I’m Nailah. I’ll be running first team. I can show you inside to your dressing room.”

“Nailah... that's really pretty name.”

“Thank you! It’s Arabic for ‘successful’. My parents had high hopes,” she said with a little laugh.

“Looks like you’re well on your way,” he said, flashing a devastating smile at her.

As she turned and headed back towards the sound stage door, she was grateful for the brief respite of that gaze. When he shook her hand, her nipples had immediately gone rock hard and all she could do was hope her bra hid her reaction from him. Goddamn that man was fine as hell… Before she could grab the handle, his big hand shot out and pulled it open, motioning for her to step inside first. She murmured a soft thank you before guiding him over to his dressing room on stage. 

“Ah.. costumes set up your clothes for you over there,” she said, pointing at a clothing rack. “I can take you to hair and makeup first and then you can get dressed after. They’re still setting up lights and cameras, so I’ll try to get you an update as to when camera will be ready. Can I get you anything to eat?”

Aaron sat his bag down on the sofa before turning to look at her. She was a stunning little thing. He couldn’t help but to noticed those big doe eyes. Eyes were his favorite thing on a woman, followed very closely by a nice ass. Aaron bit back a smile as he sneakily let his eyes drift over the pretty production assistant. She had both.

“Any chance I could get an egg scramble?”

“Sure can.” She pulled her cell phone out and glanced up at him. “What do you want in it?”

“Mushrooms, onions, extra turkey and cheese. Ask him for like four or five eggs please.”

“You got it.” 

Aaron followed her over to the hair and makeup room and she left the ladies to get to work and made her way over to the small catering they had set up for the shoot today.

“What can I get you, baby?”

Nailah couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth when she heard that infamous New Orleans accent. She loved it so damn much.

“Good morning… I’ll take a scramble with five eggs, mushrooms, onions, extra turkey and cheese? And can I also have a bacon, egg and cheese on a croissant please?”

“Coming right up.”

While breakfast was being cooked up, she doctored up a cup of coffee for herself, sighing softly when she took her first sip of the hot drink. Her sleep schedule had been a little off thanks to a different time zone plus the anxiety of starting a new job. Thankfully, today would likely be a short day, less than the typical twelve or more. Nailah was already plotting on a nap when she got back to her place.

“How’s it looking, Nailah?”

Joe’s familiar voice crackled through her ear piece and she pulled her phone out, quickly checking one of the many group chats she was already in before responding.

“Aaron is done in makeup. He stepped to hair about two minutes ago. Q is gonna give him a quick line up and then he’ll dress. How’s camera looking?”

She mouthed a thanks as the chef handed over the plates of food.

“Looks like they’re swinging a lens. Shouldn’t be too much longer. Let me know when he’s one hundred, yeah?”

“Will do.”

After tucking utensils and napkins in their to-go boxes, she made her way back into the stage. She walked over to his dressing room, knocking softly before popping her head inside. After dropping his breakfast off, she headed over to Q’s barber station to see how much longer he had. Before she could even fix her mouth to ask, Aaron’s eyes met hers in the mirror, a tiny smirk on those full lips of his. Nailah smiled back out of habit, clearing her throat before checking in.

“How much longer do you think?”

“I’ll be done with him in five. You need him in less?”

“No, no. No rush. Just wanted to give boss man a number. Aaron, your food is in your room.”

There he went with those eyes again.

“Thank you so much, Nailah. I appreciate it.”

That voice and those eyes together was a lethal combination. Should literally be illegal. Q shot her a look and she had to turn away before he caught her blush. The two of them had worked together for almost two years on a show back in LA. He had quickly become one of her favorite faces to see on set. Unfortunately for her, Q also knew her VERY well. That little look he gave her… he could tell she was crushing on the bright eyed actor and she just knew she’d hear an earful later. 

By the time, she’d finished her breakfast sandwich, Aaron was stepping out of his room, dressed in costume and looking impeccable. She took a sip of her coffee, letting her eyes drift over him as she listened to the radio chatter on channel one.

“Ready to invite Aaron.”

Joe’s voice in her ear came at the perfect time, preventing her from getting lost in her imagination once again. She pushed off the wall, making her way over to Aaron.

“Camera is ready for you,” she said with a little smile.

Those eyes, which oscillated from blue to hazel to green, flickered to her face and he smiled back at her. Aaron fell in step behind her as she walked him over to the backdrop. He glanced around at the people milling about, all working to make his dreams a possibility. As much as he loved being an actor, he knew none of it was possible without the crews behind the scenes. Nailah introduced him to the first assistant director and the director of photography. As the DP chattered on, he watched the way Nailah seemed to melt into the background, leaning against a camera cart, those pretty eyes of hers seeming like they were watching everything on set. Watching him watching her.

Her large expressive eyes drew him in right away and when she'd caught him staring the first time, he swore he felt a shiver go down his spine. There was just something about those eyes of hers. It felt like they saw a little too much of him. It had been a long while since he’d wanted to get close to a woman, any woman. It was hard to find something real. So many of them were having fun playing the game and seemed to want nothing more than to attach themselves to the next big deal and ride his coattails to whatever fame they could get out of it. Finding a loyal woman who was smarter than him, could go toe to toe with his family AND had an ass like a Georgia peach was like finding a needle in a Kardashian haystack. 

As much as he wanted to be professional, he couldn't deny the way she'd caught and held his attention. Maybe it was because she wasn’t begging for it. She seemed to quietly demand it, from the confident way she walked around set to the calm way she relayed information to him. As he posed for a few quick stills, he let his mind drift a bit. This wasn’t his first time filming in the states but it was his first time in Louisiana and he found himself really looking forward to exploring. They’d be filming until the end of July, so he was sure he’d have plenty of time for himself. 

Throughout the day, he changed costumes a few times and the DP experimented with a few different set ups. Time went by quickly and Aaron found himself enjoying the small stolen moments with Nailah. He’d discovered that her mother was from New Orleans and that she was based in Los Angeles. They’d chatted about their favorite movies, specifically 80s and 90s action movies. The disagreed on Kickboxer being Jean Claude Van Damme’s best movie but he knew he could eventually convince her that he was right. Despite her trying to maintain a level of professionalism, he appreciated how easy it was to talk to her. She was very sweet and was whip smart. As much as he appreciated a pretty face and a fat ass, he more than appreciated a woman of substance. Aaron shifted his attention back to her. 

Those eyes of his focused on her once again and Nailah was glad her brown skin hid the heat she suddenly felt in her cheeks. She wasn’t the type of woman who was easily flustered by handsome men, especially not working in the entertainment industry. Good looking men were a dime a dozen in LA and unfortunately, a lot of them knew it. Besides, a man like Aaron probably had a girlfriend. Or multiple girlfriends. Men like him didn’t stay single for long, not with all the access being an actor gave you. Hell, she wasn’t even sure he dated black women. It seemed to be the popular thing to get a bit of success and all of a sudden, the black women who made you weren’t good enough to marry. 

“Alright, that’s a wrap everyone.”

Joe’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and she was glad to be that much closer to going home. Today hadn’t been a crazy day, but work was always tiring. Having to be “on” all the time got old real quick. Nailah tossed her empty water bottle, watching as Aaron headed back towards his dressing room to change. After grabbing the Exhibit G for him to sign, she waited just outside his room, tapping her fingers on her thigh as she thought about what she was gonna order for dinner. Now that she was back in the Big Easy, she fully planned on eating her body weight in delicious Southern food. In no time at all, Aaron emerged from the room, his bag on his shoulder. He flashed a smile at her as he approached and she craned her neck to look up at him. Nailah wasn’t exactly a short woman at 5’8” but this man made her feel positively tiny.

“Today went pretty well…”

“It did. I’m glad I got a chance to meet you before the actual first day of filming. It’s always so hectic.”

“Same. I try to remember all the names and faces and… it’s a lot.”

He scribbled his signature and handed it back over to her.

“Joe will send you the call sheet… probably later tonight. He’s pretty good about getting it out before it gets too late.”

“Sounds great,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you next week, Nailah…”

As always, please let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list.

Tag Squad: | @womderland-fandom | | @macfizzle | @blondekel77 | @dreamer0517 | @oljol | @aintnopartymd | @nerdysuccess | @wwedeanambrose | @kenziehere88 | @caramara3 | @ayeemya | @kangolcap | @jadabayda | @theayushijain | @fourtris-is-4ever | @justrae9903 | @fivefootxo | @deajm2116 | @cjricks98 | @emmaisnotcrazy | @wweimaginesandoneshotsthings | @wwe-smutfics | @blumisty | @lip-sync | @wwe-smutfics | @theayushijain | @crookedmoonsaultpunk | @sausagefest1996 | @ang-78 | | @msbigredmachine |  @andyelson | @vivalavonvon | @cool-snowball-22-blog |@arrowtothecrown | @night-of-the-living-shred | @fentybabyy | @princess-siba | @thenamesaj | @reigningxo | @pikapuff316 | @kayah16 | @rcarmelle | @bamakakechick | @texasbama | @melinatedmuse | @vivalavonvon | @ladyshadowdawn | @imawriterdamnit | @turn-thy-paige | @amethyst09 | @kmhappybunny | @mondaynightrollin | @vibranium-soul | @lizziebritish | @thenamesaj | @firered82 | @daytimeheroicsonly | @kumkaniudaku | @blackandfair | @brianabreeze | @shamidreamer | @onelovesr | @lady-love-and-glitter-roses | @black-is-beautiful18 | @theunsweetenedtruth | @90sinspiredgirl | @dramaqueenamby | @royallyprincesslilly | @ashleychristina73 | @sugarhooyo | @brittyevans | @nina-sj | @myaw731 | @shouldbeythequeeen90s | @mbakusmbitch | @n-o-v-a-caine | @delreyfenty | @thatssonanii| @annoyedkayah2395

[vax-merstappen]

secret keeper (op81)

summary: trying to keep your and oscar's relationship hidden from the public was not easy, especially when the one person you trusted not to say anything may have told the whole grid what was going on.

this definitely got more funny than cute lol but this was probably my favorite fic to write! hope you enjoy!

You were walking through the paddock to meet up with the man who everyone knew as your best friend, Oscar Piastri. You had known each other for years, meeting when your brother had raced against him in a karting series. Though your brother had quit after only a few years of karting, you had grown close to Oscar and continued to hang out with him. When he got to Formula 1, you came to the races that you were able to in order to support your friend.

At least that's what the world thought. You and Oscar had been dating for 2 years before he started racing with McLaren. As a couple you mutually decided to keep your relationship as private as possible. Fans could get nasty and with Oscar's dream of making it to the pinnacle of motorsport, you knew that every single thing you did together would be analyzed if you were to go public. You liked your privacy and Oscar did too, so naturally it made sense to just be friends publicly.

Of course your families and close friends knew that you were dating. You had also informed the members of the team that needed to know, just so they could understand why you were always in the paddock. Outside of that, there were very few people that knew the situation.

So it was shocking to say the least when you passed by Pierre on the way to the McLaren hospitality one morning and he gave you a nod of recognition. "Ah, you're Oscar's friend!" he exclaimed, making air quotes as he said the word friend. He shook your hand and smiled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked, wondering if he somehow knew you were dating Oscar.

Pierre looked embarrassed for a second. "Oh, um, I just meant that you guys seem too close to be just friends? You must be best friends to show up at all these races, he must see you like a sister?"

You cringed inwardly at being seen as Oscar's sister, but were ultimately relieved that Pierre did not know about your relationship. You wished Pierre luck on the race and continued towards the McLaren hospitality. Right before you could step inside, you saw Logan walking towards you.

He smiled before gesturing at you to follow him into the alley between the hospitality buildings. "You better treat him right," Logan said.

"Treat who right?" you asked, again scared that Logan knew about you dating Oscar.

"Oscar," he said and your heart skipped a beat. "If you're going to date him, you better do it right. If you break his heart, Alex and I will break you."

Your stomach dropped. "I, I how did you know?" you stammered.

"Oh, uh, lucky guess?" Logan shrugged awkwardly. "But, uh, don't mess with my boy." He walked away.

First Pierre acting weird and now Logan. Something was up and you needed to find Oscar to figure it out. You beelined into the hospitality to find where he could possibly be hiding. Checking all the rooms, you found that he was nowhere in sight. After asking around, you discovered that Oscar was scheduled to speak with the media at the press conference. You needed to find him before he got on that stage.

You walked as fast as you could without running towards where he was supposed to be. However, you looked to your right and saw yet another driver approaching you. Fernando Alonso himself rushed to your side.

"Hey congrats on the new boyfriend!" he said jokingly, before noticing the panicked expression on your face. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"I need to find Oscar," you said. "Somehow all of you know about us and I don't know why and I'm scared."

Fernando looked you in the eyes. "Hey, it's alright, let's go find him together. He should be at the media stage right?"

You nodded and were relieved as Fernando began to lead you towards your boyfriend. "But seriously, how did you know?" you asked.

"Well I heard it from Carlos, but I don't know how he found out," he revealed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine, Nando, just help me find Oscar."

You finally got to the stage and saw your boyfriend already being interviewed. Fernando gave you one last reassurance that everything would be okay before leaving you to go do his own press duties. You looked to the seat next to you and saw yet another driver.

"I think you make a great couple," George said, smiling at you. The his face dropped. "Oh, I wasn't supposed to talk about it. Shit."

"It's okay," you sighed. "I know that you know now. I just want to know how this happened."

"Well," George said, looking around before dropping into a whisper. "A certain driver may have slipped and said something about it to Alex who texted Logan, Charles, and I who may have said something to Lewis who actually kept his mouth shut but apparently Charles told Carlos, who told Checo and Nando, and Pierre, who told Esteban and Yuki. That same driver also told Daniel who let Max, Lance, and Nico in and then Nico told Kevin and Valtteri and then Valtteri told Zhou."

"How do you know all that?" you asked, amazed that George kept track of all of the gossip.

"The skill of gossiping comes with the job," he said. "But you didn't hear all this from me."

You nodded. There was nothing left to do now besides wait for your boyfriend to finish the conference. While he talked, you recalled a conversation you and Oscar had during the past week.

---

"I can't believe you bring your friend to so many races," Lando had remarked. "I almost thought you guys were dating at first."

You and Oscar had shared a look. You nodded to him to confirm it was okay to tell the truth.

"Well we are dating," Oscar said and Lando looked up from his phone, shocked.

"Oh my god! I was right!" he shouted.

You and Oscar immediately shushed him. "We're keeping it a secret for now," you explained. "Don't want the press digging into our relationship."

Lando nodded. "My lips are sealed."

Little did you know, he had immediately gone to talk to Alex and let it slip that you and Oscar were actually dating. And a few hours after that, he had mentioned it in conversation with Daniel.

---

You had a realization. The only person who you had mutually agreed to tell on the grid was Oscar's own teammate, Lando Norris. And while you had trusted him, he was sort of famous for being a PR problem.

You looked up to see Oscar leaving the press conference. Your boyfriend smiled and walked over to you when he saw you in the crowd.

"Oscar, the whole grid knows we are dating."

Oscar looked panicked. "I'm so sorry, babe. I don't know how this could have happened, let me go figure it out..."

"I know what happened," you interrupted.

"What?"

"We're going to need to have a conversation with a certain teammate of yours."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Of course it was him."

You two made your way to the McLaren garage and Oscar's face got angry when he saw Lando nonchalantly talking with one of the mechanics. Oscar was generally a quiet guy, but could be intimidating when necessary. You smiled as you prepared to watch the confrontation.

"LANDO MOTHERFUCKING NORRIS!" Oscar shouted. "Get your ass over here right now!"

Lando looked panicked and you could almost audibly hear him say "oh shit" before scurrying out of the garage. Your boyfriend looked back at you with an amused smile.

"Last time we trust him to keep our secrets."

You laughed before pulling Oscar into a hug. Even though Lando had leaked your relationship to the grid, you knew things wouldn't be so bad as long as you still had Oscar by your side.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {3}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: The rift you have caused comes to a destructive head when summer breaks is over. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, crash, injuries, angst WC: 2.9k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

Summer Break “I really fucked up.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound hoarse from all the crying. You were curled up on your side on the couch in Pierre’s apartment in Milan, your head on his lap as his hand ran up and down your arm in comfort. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

“He’s your brother, he’ll forgive you,” he assured you once again. “I’ve said way worse things to my brothers. Maybe this break is exactly what you need, get away from Max for a few weeks, have some space.”

“And Lando, and Charles.” You groaned as you rolled onto your back and stared up at your closest friend. “You have a bear in the cave.”

“Gross, don’t look up my nose,” he said as he pushed you off his lap.

“I can’t help it, it’s the angle,” you laughed as you sat up before sobering. “Have you spoken to them?”

“Lando was heading back to Monaco to spend the holidays with Luisa, and Charles was on his way to the Alps to meet up with Charlotte.” 

You sighed at the mention of their girlfriends and Pierre gave you a look of pity that you resented. Pulling your phone out, with the determination to move on from the silly crushes that had developed over the years, you opened the Raya app and shifted closer to him. “Can you help me?”

“Sure,” he said, taking the phone and locking it. “I’m taking you on a road trip.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah, but I think it’s what you need.”

Round Fourteen - Netherlands You reunited with the team for Max’s home race and a sea of orange filled the stands, all cheering for their Lion. You had tried to talk to him when you arrived at the track but you didn’t know what to say to repair the rift you had made. Every time you opened your mouth, nothing came out.

“That one’s for you,” Lance said as he tapped your elbow.

“Huh? What? Yeah, totally,” you rambled trying to recover from zoning out thinking about the three weeks of silence, not only with Max but Lando and Charles too. You had sat beside the Canadian on the sofa, the furthest point from the others and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“You look like you enjoyed your vacation with Pierre. It was quite different to how you usually spend your down time.”

“Because I was sober?” you teased. “My liver needed a break, as did my PR team, and it was really quite fun. Exactly what I needed actually and it was great to reconnect with Pierre since he upgraded to Yuki.”

You could feel three sets of eyes on you from the other end but then the conversation was diverted their way and you sagged back into the couch. That was until you heard the news that the holiday had been dubbed ‘break-up season’. Both Spaniards had become single in the first week, Logan and Lando in the second and Charles in the third. It had been quite the shock to their fans.

If Pierre hadn't removed your social media for the break you would have known all of this but instead you had to find out on stage with dozens of cameras capturing the surprise on your face. 

The second the interview was over you chased after Lando and finally caught up to him at the McLaren motorhome.

“Hey, can we talk?” You were aware that there were still plenty of cameras around, and it looked like the Netflix crew were scheduled to his team too. “Somewhere private.”

He didn’t exactly look happy at the request but his eyes softened as you quietly begged, “please, Lan?”

“In here,” he sighed, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair as he opened the door to his room. The door clicked shut behind you and you looked around the small space, the air still humid and smelling like his body wash from the shower he took before the media conference.

“How was your break?” you asked as he sat down on a padded bench, leaving the more comfortable chair for you.

“Could have been better.”

There was a pregnant pause where you both waited for each other to speak. It wasn’t like him to be so short and you thought more would follow but he just stared back at you. 

Clearing your throat, you looked down at your hands on your lap. “I, uh, wanted to apologise for what I said to you. You were just being a good friend and I was a complete bitch.”

“You were a bitch,” he stated bluntly before he bit his lip and mouthed a silent, ‘sorry’ and tucked his knee up so he could rest his cheek on it.

You huffed a laugh of agreement. “I’ve heard that once or twice. I’m a work in progress, but I’m trying to change. Can you forgive me?”

His head lifted with a frown, his soft curls falling over his forehead to meet them. “What? No.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected everything to go back to how it was but you had thought he would at least accept your apology. Rising from the chair, you started to make your way to the door until you heard the vinyl bench squeak as he followed.

“Wait,” he said as he caught your hand reaching for the handle. “You were right. So there’s nothing to forgive.” He tugged your hand so you turned to face him before he let it slip through his fingers. “I was unhappy, and I probably should have broken up with Luisa a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I guess I just didn’t want to be alone again. Which, after you left, I realised is a poor reason to be in a relationship. So I really wasn’t up for offering advice. ” He smiled sheepishly and opened his arms. “Forgive me?”

You stepped into his embrace and buried your head in his neck with a nod. “You were right too.”

“About what?”

“Everything.” You were reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms but there was still one other person to apologise to. “I owe you and Charles for saving my ass. How about dinner at my place on Tuesday?”

“I mean, it was mostly me,” he joked as he puffed his chest up and pushed his shoulders back. “But we can invite him too, I guess.”

“Of course, my hero,” you swooned sarcastically before leaning in and kissed his cheek. “See you next Tuesday. See what I did there?”

“There’s my Spitfire,” he laughed and shook his head. “For a moment I thought you were gone.”

Max’s motorhome was empty when you reached it and so was the garage but his engineer, Calum, was there and said Max had gone to visit family. It hurt more than you expected to hear that you hadn’t been invited, especially since it was Jos’ side of the family that lived in the Netherlands. The side of the family you shared with Max. 

That pain followed you as you wandered around the paddock a little lost, signing autographs and stopping for photos with fans on autopilot. You didn’t know where to go, or how to fill the hours until Max returned. Then when he returned you weren’t even sure he would want to see you after what you said.

“Hey, I’ve called out like three times,” Charles said as he suddenly appeared in front of you and frowned at your startled reaction. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, sorry, I’m in a world of my own,” you said as you looked around to see you were outside Ferrari hospitality. “How, uh, how have you been? I meant to call you over the break and thank you for what you and Lando did for me.”

“It’s no problem, but it was mostly me.”

“Funny, he said the exact same thing,” you smirked. “Anyway, as a thank you, you two are coming to my place for dinner on Tuesday. I promise I won’t give you food poisoning, this time.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” he said sarcastically. “But Tuesday works for me. Where were you heading anyway? I thought you would be with Max.”

You couldn’t hide the wince on your face at the mention of your brother and Charles reached out and rubbed your shoulder with a look of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. I actually need to go do a thing,” you lied as you started to feel the increasingly familiar burn of tears in your eyes.

“Chérie, wait.” Charles made to follow as you backed away but he stopped when you shook your head.

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath as you turned your back and wiped your eyes. It was race week and your emotions were all over the place, it was a recipe for disaster. 

Race Day

You threw your phone across the room and watched it bounce off the couch before hitting the floor with a crack. You could worry about the broken screen later, with the race only an hour away and Max still ignoring you there were more pressing things to think about.

You worked through your warm up routine under the watchful eye of your physiotherapist before making your way to the reflex machine. The lights danced across the buttons and you slapped each one with precision until it suddenly clicked off. 

“You’re not focused,” Kristian tutted.

“I hit them all,” you argued as you caught the bottle he threw to you and took a drink.

“Reacting out of habit is not the same as responding by reflex. You need to think, then do, not just do.”

You grumbled under your breath about what a load of crap it was but made a show of the next round before he gave up with a sigh. “I’m going to head down to the grid,” you said as you grabbed your helmet and balaclava. “Pierre can help me finish up.”

It was easy to spot Pierre with his PT, his concentration solely on the tennis balls he was focused on catching before they hit the ground. 

“Mind if I butt in?” you asked as you took the tennis balls and replaced Ben. “He still won’t talk to me.” You dropped the balls at the same time and he easily swiped them from the air before tossing it back into your palm.

“You can take my spot for the anthem, I think I saw my name next to his on the seating chart.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” you admitted as you dropped the balls one after another trying to trick him. “I called him a dick, twice.”

One ball bounced along the asphalt when he laughed, missing the easy catch. “That’s the opposite of apologising.”

“I know, he just pissed me off.” You caught sight of the race suit that matched yours and watched him walk on the far side of the grip with Charles. “I don’t like being ignored.”

Pierre grabbed the wayward tennis ball and returned to hold them up over your hands. “You did start that by ignoring him first.”

“I thought we were friends.” You caught the ball he dropped and tossed it at his face. “You’re meant to take my side.”

He caught it before it could connect with his nose and crossed his arms with an amused smirk on his face. “I am your friend, so I will tell it like it is. Go talk to him.”

 You narrowed your eyes at him as you stepped away and he nodded encouragingly as you made your way across the home straight. 

“Not now,” Max said as soon as you stepped into his field of vision, making Charles look over his shoulder. 

“Then when?” you asked. “After the race? Next week? Next year? Should I put my name up for a transfer? Is that what you want?”

“Woah, what's going on?” Charles asked as watched you grow increasingly more upset with each question.

“Nothing, just an inchident,” Max said coldly. “Oma sends her regards and she’s sorry she didn’t get to see you.”

“You didn’t fucking invite me,” you growled as you stepped closer jabbed a finger into his chest.

Max rolled his eyes and schooled his face to one of boredom. “You told me to leave you alone.”

Your hands balled into fists at your side. “You are such a fucking asshole.”

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Charles interrupted, pushing himself between you and your brother before you could get disqualified. “Walk with me.”

Charles stepped closer and his hands grabbed your shoulders, turning you around before one hand pressed against the small of your back, urging you to keep moving. 

“What’s going on?” he asked as he took a seat against the pitwall and pulled you down beside him. “And don’t say it’s nothing. You haven’t been yourself all week.”

“We had an argument and now he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Charles draped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “He’s your older brother, he could never hate you. Trust me, there’s nothing Arthur could say that would make me hate him.”

“Arthur’s too nice to say anything mean, but me? I’m a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch, you’re just passionate.” He let his head fall back against the wall with a chuckle. “I like that about you.”

“You must be the only one.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he murmured quietly and you followed his line of sight to Lando who was making his way over while everyone else started to move to the front of the grid. “Time to go.”

Charles stood up as Lando offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet.

“Try not to get too excited hearing the Dutch anthem,” you grumbled, earning a laugh from both of them as they fell into step either side of you, “again.”

You were driving recklessly, determined to beat Max, but it had meant receiving a black and white flag warning for exceeding the track limits three times. One more violation and you would get a five second penalty, practically handing the win over on a silver platter.

“You need to manage your tires,” Nicholas warned over the radio. “You are pushing them too hard, the degradation rate is exponential. They won’t last to the end of the race unless you slow down and stay between the white lines.”

“I can’t slow down when I have Max with DRS behind me.”

“That’s not the plan. We want a 1-2 finish, it doesn’t matter who leads across the line.”

“It does to me.”

You passed the next DRS detection line and took the corner at speed before hitting the straight and trying to defend your position. Max was right at your bumper, riding the slipstream as he increased speed in preparation to slingshot out and past you. 

Only something went wrong.

Instead of going around you, Max’s front wing crashed into the back of your car, lifting your rear wheels off the track and sending you scraping the length of the pit wall while he spun out. Debris hit your helmet as Max’s car slammed into the concrete barriers and carbon fibre splintered apart, raining over you and the track. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you growled into the comms as you pulled your steering console out and unbuckled the harness. You jumped over the side of your car and ran towards Max’s, hurling abuse at him the entire way. “Who’s the spoiled brat now? You just couldn’t let me have the win could you? Dick!”

A pained groan was all you heard from the cockpit and the anger evaporated in an instant as dreaded fear replaced it. You leapt onto the top of the car and reached over the halo, pulling the visor up on Max’s helmet to see a dazed look in his icy blue eyes before they fluttered shut. 

“Max, I need you to open your eyes. Look at me, dammit!” you growled as you started to pull his harness open and looked around wildly, wondering when help was coming. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I don’t hate you, okay? I don’t hate you. You’re my big brother and I love you, so you have to stick around and be overprotective and piss me off for a very long time. So open your fucking eyes!”

“Zusje?” he asked after a moment of blinking dumbly. “What happened?”

“You forgave me and said I could borrow your yacht.”

“Bullshit,” he groaned as he pushed his harness off his shoulders and accepted your hand to help him climb out. “I would never let you borrow my yacht.”

A groan wheezed out as his boots hit the ground and you wrapped an arm around his waist to take his weight, holding him steady. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Only if I can get a recording of your radio, you actually sounded worried for me,” he said with a laugh before he clutched his ribs. “Ow, fuck.”

“Of course I was worried, asshole. I thought you were hurt.”

“I am hurt,” he pointed out before rapping his knuckles on your helmet. “I love you too, little sis. Even when you say you hate me.”

Click here for Not A Verstappen: Gridlock {1}.

Tagging: @destourtereaux @severerebelearthquake @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dancing With Fire Part 7: Show ‘Em How It’s Done, My Beautiful Swan✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Ballerina Fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been trying to finish this story for months now. All it took was for me to going to a showing of Swan Lake ballet!

Chapter Summary: It’s finally opening night of Swan Lake, and Joel talks you through taking the stage like the star you are.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags: A little angst, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, theater drama, age gap (reader mid 20’s, Joel in his early 40’s) No use Y/N, reader’s nickname is Sunshine

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

   Your heart thundered in your chest with every tap your dainty toes made against the polished floors. Sweat beaded your forehead as shades of crimson filled your peripheral vision. It’s almost like a ghost walked these dim halls now instead of you, all hushed and meek as the icy hair hit your bare arms.

   This place felt like a prison the longer you stood here, fear trembling through your bones. This was it, the moment you’ve waited for since Pierre stepped foot onto this hollow stage. 

   This is it.

   As you waited for Carlotta to step into the auditorium with her overflowing coffee cup and lipstick smeared against the white lid, you felt anxiety like you’d never felt before. And as if Joel could sense your gut-wrenching fright, you could feel his large presence looming over you, making sure you felt safe.

   “Easy there. S’alright, I’m right here. Pierre ain’t gonna last a second when he gets here,” he assured you with his large palm caressing the small of your back, making that fear creep away as his warm breath blew down your neck.

   “You really think he’ll get kicked out?” you asked with a shaky breath.

   He stepped closer and laced his fingers with yours, giving you that gentle squeeze of reassurance you so desperately needed. “If my plan worked and she watched that video, there’s no fuckin’ way she’d let him stay.”

   As if right on cue, Carlotta came storming into the auditorium, waving an arm frantically in the air with coffee nearly spilling over the sides. “Pierre! Where is Pierre?!” Her voice was hot and angry, and her face looked as red as the morning sunrise.

   Pierre’s murky eyes appeared as he took the stage, and the deep snarl he gave you was enough to make you topple over in fear, but Joel stood firm behind you and became the rock that made you stand tall.

   “Little swan,” Pierre growled under his breath as his eyes penetrated your frigid stare. Those cold, dark eyes alone were enough to shake you to the core. 

   “Pierre, come here!” Carlotta’s scream rang around the expansive auditorium, and you were holding your breath while you watched him turn slowly and parade down the wooden steps, down to where she was holding out her cell phone.

   Your eyes went wide as you watched the visual of the recording. The one where Pierre snapped and slapped your face, pushing you down into the hardwood floor as fear smothered your insides. 

   You couldn’t bear to watch that video again, so you turned and nuzzled your face in Joel’s warm flannel, where it was safe and secure and so very gentle. He slung a protective arm around your back and cradled your skull, letting his thick fingers run gently through your hair.

   It’s like his gentle touch and warm presence send a wave of calm waters over your body every time he’s around you, holding you to him like he’s the anchor to your heart. But that’s what he was, what he’d always be. He was yours, and you feared you’d never be able to let him pull from your reach ever again.

   “This is not how we treat our dancers, Pierre! Care to explain?” Her voice was icy, just like the chill that ran straight down your back. 

   Your eyes peeled over to where Pierre stood frozen to the spot, his jaw clenching with fire as if he was the victim and not the assaulter. “I didn’t mean it, I swear! She was driving me nuts and wouldn’t listen to a thing I was saying, Carlotta I…”

   Carlotta held a sharp palm up and silenced him. “I watched the entire thing, and it looked like you were the one to drive her nuts. What was your plan, Pierre? What was the point of slapping your partner?” Her eyes pierced daggers into his clammy skin, and your breath caught with how forceful Carlotta was being. She never defended you before, so why now? 

   “I… I…” He was completely speechless, and he had nothing to say as his murky eyes flashed the color of a damp swamp. He was terrified. Good. 

   She zipped her lips and pointed a menacing finger his way. “We don’t hit our partners, Pierre.”

   “But I…”

   “Period!” She glared on and shoved her phone into the pocket of her burgundy Coach pants. “You’re finished here.”

   Pierre’s mouth dropped open, and he almost lost his balance standing on solid ground. “You can’t do this! I’m the star of the show!” he shouted with desperation lurking in his frenzied eyes. 

   “You’re not anymore. So grab your bag and leave. You’re not welcome in this theater anymore. Josh will take your place.” She shooed him off and frantically ran to the back of the auditorium, screaming for Josh to hurry up and get in place; practice would commence in ten minutes.

   You stood there stunned, your mouth hanging wide open as you nearly collapsed with relief. He was gone; you wouldn’t have to ever dance with his terrifying face again. Relief started to drip off your heated skin, and your body relaxed like you were floating in a hot tub, Joel still your rock behind you as his large palm sat against your lower back. He was exactly where you needed him most.

   Just before you could completely ease up, an unwelcome feeling slipped through your bones as Pierre appeared across the wooden stage and stalked toward you, prowling as his sharp green eyes narrowed into thin slits, sending fire through your lungs.

   His footsteps were heavy and blaring across the open auditorium, and his large figure seemed to envelop you in full on terror that consumed you whole, swallowing you into the depths of the shadows that held you in place. You wouldn’t make it out of here alive, not with the way he glared at you with pure hate dripping off his venomous tongue. 

   Once Carlotta stepped out, Pierre lunged, and you felt as if he’d claw you to shreds, leaving nothing behind but your crimson blood all over the cold theater floor. “Hey, little swan! What the fuck did I tell you? You’re in for a world of hurt now, little bitch,” he sneered violently as he pursued you like a hungry wolf about to devour his shaking prey.

   You couldn’t move, and all form of coherent thoughts left your head in a daze. You were glued to this very spot, and there was nothing that could tear your paralyzed form from the hardwood floor.

   Just when you thought he was going to attack, Joel stepped in front of you and shielded your body like a big, thick wall. He looked so furious, the way his nostrils flared and dark eyes narrowed toward Pierre. He wouldn’t take Pierre’s shit. No, this would be the last straw.

   “Out of my way,” Pierre barked as his brooding form covered the expanse of the stage, but Joel was much bigger, much broader than Pierre could ever be. And if there’s one thing Joel didn’t take, it was people messing with his girl. 

   “Not a chance. Back off.” Joel growled as he clenched his massive fists at his side, his knuckles solid white as his fingers curled into his palms. 

   Your breath hitched as you latched onto his flannel and clung tightly to him as you watched your knight in shining honor defend you.  

   “Get out of the way, fucker. Let me show your girl just what it means if she wants to play with fire. It spits right back,” Pierre snarled with a low rumble in his chest.

   Pierre threw a hand up angrily and lunged for Joel. Joel placed a hand out and snatched his wrist quicker than a blink of an eye, and his eyes flared with violence the longer he stared at Pierre. “Call her bitch one more time and see what happens,” Joel dared Pierre with a heated glare.

   Leaning forward and scowling, Pierre smirked devilishly, licking his lips as if he was playing with Joel and his tethered patience. “Bitch.”

   The next second, Joel’s arm flexed, and his clenched fist hit Pierre so hard in the nose that blood spewed as an earth-shattering scream came from his covered mouth. 

   “Shit! What was that for!” Pierre garbled as blood continued to pour from his broken nose.

   “That was for messin’ with my girl, asshole. Now get. Out. Of. Here.” He punctuated every word with the cut of his sharp tongue. “Now,” he growled, shoving him so hard in the chest that he toppled to the ground like the coward he was, and then he crawled off the back of the stage and made a run for it.

   Before he made it out the back door, you heard him muttering raspy words under his breath. “Mark my words, I’ll be back, little swan. One day, you’ll pay.” His promise ran dry as he fled out of the theater in a hurry.

   He was gone.

   You stood there shocked like lightning just struck your core, electrified by how fearless your protector was. He broke Pierre’s nose, made him pay for what he did to you so many days ago. He got the security footage for you, made sure Carlotta received it, made damn sure he’d never lay another finger on you. He was much more than your protector. He was everything to you, and now? Now you truly saw how much he cared about you, loved you. And God, you loved this man with every fiber of your being. 

   He was everything. 

   He stood there staring at the disappearing blood trail, fists still clenched, jaw locked tight with a scowl a mile wide as his eyes darted with vengeance that dared Pierre to come back and mess with you. 

   Not being able to help yourself, a small smile crept over the corners of your pink lips, and your eyes crinkled with a lot of admiration while you looked at the man who once again saved your life. Joel slowly turned, and when he met your eyes, his softened embers of deep chocolate irises melted, and then his fingers relaxed when he saw your gentle smile.

   “Joel,” you whispered quietly, reaching out to curl your fingers tightly around his tanned wrist while his bruised knuckles brushed against your cheek like a feather floating down your soft skin. 

   “You okay, sunshine?” he questioned, grazing his calloused fingers down the nape of your neck, drawing you in with the scent of coffee and mahogany that wrapped completely around your mind until all you could smell was him.

   “I’m—”

   “Hey!” The shrieking scream of Cecilia took you out of your hypnotic daze, and then the stomping of feet broke your hold on Joel’s wrist. You whirled around and came face to face with her glaring icy eyes and her perfect blonde hair tucked up in a secure bun. Even her too-tight leotard made you cringe the way she swayed her hips with confidence. “Think you’re so slick getting Pierre kicked out of the ballet? Think your big, strong maintenance man can always protect you? Well, I don’t think so,” she spit out like the bitch she was.

   “Watch your mouth,” Joel warned, ticking his jaw up in anger. 

   You looked from Joel to Cecilia, eyes wide as your heart skipped wildly in your chest. You wouldn’t let Joel fight all your battles for you; this one was yours to conquer. 

   Taking a deep breath and stepping hesitantly forward, you pushed your way in front of Joel, letting his wall of a body sink behind yours. He wrapped a big hand around your wrist, giving you concerned brown eyes that asked if you were positive about this. You nodded and unhooked his fingers from your heated skin, and then you faced Cecilia and her burning red face that scorched with fury.

   Taking a deep breath, you growled lowly. “Give it a rest, Cecilia. He’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

   “Jesus, you’re such a bitch, you know that! You think you own this stage, don’t you? Think you’re hot shit in that feathered swan dress, well guess what? Just wait until I get my hands on—”

   You seethed and bit your tongue, tasting metallic blood drain down the back of your throat as rage burned inside you. Nu-uh. Not today, not ever again would you take her shit.

   Stomping your heel into the ground, you shot her an icy stare that made her jump back an inch in surprise. This time, she’d be the one scared, not you. “I’m the bitch? Are you kidding me?” You threw back your head and cackled, letting the uproarious laughter shake your core at the pretentious bully that stood sneering at you with her unwelcome blue eyes. 

   “That’s right, you.” She challenged you with slit eyes that looked like a feral cat taunting a little mouse. But you were no little mouse, you were a lioness, and you’d sharpen your claws until they were cut like glass across her shiny skin.

   Joel grabbed the back of your black leotard, holding you tightly in place so you wouldn’t lunge, like he knew you were thinking of it. You wanted to. God, you really wanted to claw her perfect face and show her you were no meek mouse who sat around and waited to be played with by a dumb cat. No, you were better than that, and you’d show her.

   “You’re the one who’s been bullying me since the very first day I stepped into this ballet company, so cut the pretense. Just because I got the role of Odette and you didn’t doesn’t mean you can bully your way into my role. I won, Cecilia, not you.”

   Her cold eyes crowded your body, arms crossing against her over-spilling breasts in her ridiculously tight leotard that should be two sizes bigger. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes were almost the color of ocean flames. She’d attack if she could, but she knew the moment she struck she’d be kicked out just like Pierre.

   Huffing and stomping her ballet shoe into the hard floor, she bites. “Fine, you won fair and square! Happy? But make no mistake, I will wear that feathered dress one of these days, and I’ll snatch that glittery crown right out of your dainty hands you freak,” she sneered.

   Joel’s breath blew hot down the back of your neck, and you felt the fury that succumbed to his towering body, just waiting to let it out of his cage. You backed into his broad chest, one hand hanging on his veiny forearm as a way to tell him you were alright. You had this like you had the title of a deed in your hand. And in that moment, you made your choice.

   You were staying. This was your chance to shine and light up the stage, and you weren’t giving that up for a mean girl who tried to push your buttons every day. Pierre was gone, and that was one burden off your heavy chest. 

   You held your chin higher and gave her a sly smile, showing her you weren’t messing around, and then you snapped. Hard. “A freak, huh? Well, if I’m a freak, then you’re just a mean bitch who always got her way. But you know what? This is my stage, my ballet, mine. And I’ll wear that jeweled crown every single night until my contract is up because you know why? I worked my ass off for this role, and I’m not having it taken away by some girl who always got everything she ever wanted. No. This is my time to shine. And maybe one day you’ll get this role, but not this time. So I suggest you take your snotty attitude and go bully someone your own size. I’m done taking your shit, Cecilia. Either you leave me alone and be nice, or I’ll have words with Carlotta,” you promised with the bite of your shiny teeth. 

   Cecilia’s blue eyes went as wide as the full moon, and her jaw dropped straight to the floor at the threat. She didn’t expect you to snap like that because you never did, but now? Now you were just giving it right back to her. She took a hesitant step back and gulped, flicking her eyes between you and Joel’s glaring eyes. You could tell she was nervous. Good. She should be because that’s how she made you feel the entire time you’d been here.

   “That’s my girl,” Joel said proudly, clutching an arm possessively around your hip.

   Cecilia gulped and nervously tugged at her tiny leotard, clearly trying to get more air into her filled lungs.

   Joel slid his tongue slowly against his bottom teeth and ticked his jaw as he watched Cecilia with a careful stare, letting her know he wasn’t messing around either. “If you ever give me or her any more hell, then you’re next. Remember the cameras, blondie. I’m watching,” he warned, narrowing his eyes into thin slits while she nodded and quickly fled the stage, practically leaving behind a snail trail of fear that crept into her body from the intense reminder to never mess with you again.

   “Whoa,” you breathed out in shock. Joel spun you around and cupped your chin, bringing your eyes up to his.

   “Look at you, sunshine. My sweet swan’s got a sharp beak on her, don’t she?” he smirked, his chocolate eyes flicking to yours with pride and admiration in those warm irises you so desperately loved.

   “You taught me well, Joel,” you teased.

   “Guess I did,” he chuckled, wrapping his strong arms around you as he pulled you flush to his strong chest, fanning his warm breath over your lips. “So proud of you,” he cooed, and then his lips were on yours in an instant.

   Warm. He’s so warm and tastes like a sip of your favorite kind of coffee. Joel’s coffee. 

   “Alright, where are my dancers? I need my swan! Josh, get out here.” Carlotta’s booming voice filled the room, and you jolted back from Joel with a sigh, not wanting to leave the warmth of Joel’s arms.

   “I have to go,” you mewled as you pulled out of Joel’s warm arms, not wanting to let go. Before you pulled completely away, he leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

   “Go get ‘em, sunshine. I’ll jus’ be fixin’ up some flooring at the front. You know where to find me.” Joel gave you a gentle smile and nodded your way before he disappeared around the corner. 

   You stood there another few seconds behind the crimson curtain, out of the bright spotlight from the main stage. You just wanted to soak up this victory, fill your lungs with new oxygen that wasn’t polluted or tainted. You wanted to smell the roses, and that’s exactly what you smelled now. 

   Peace. 

   “Swan, let’s go! We’ve got less than a week to get ready. Josh, take it from the top!” Carlotta’s screeching dragged you out from the curtain and on to center stage, exactly where you’d be just a few nights from now. 

   “Josh, congratulations! I know you’ve wanted this spot for a while now,” you smiled, giving him a congratulatory hug before you got in first position. 

   He slicked back his auburn hair and flashed you a friendly smile. “Thank you. This is everything I’ve wanted. But honestly, I’m also kind of glad Pierre is gone. He was really mean to you. I just can’t believe it took Carlotta so long to see.”

   You nodded and swallowed back the lump in your throat, pushing back down all the terrible memories of Pierre and his little posse. He couldn’t touch you anymore, couldn’t make Cecelia do his bidding anymore, couldn’t ruin your happiness anymore. But the real reason was because Joel stepped in. He stepped in and physically showed Carlotta what Pierre had done. 

   Joel was your hero, and you loved that man. 

   Rehearsal flew by quickly the next few days. Josh made it so easy. He was nice, a gentleman, made your routines lighter than Pierre ever did. You finally felt like you belonged on stage, in the spotlight, as the lead of the show. You finally felt like the white swan. 

   After days of dancing your heart out and finally feeling like this could work, Friday came around. And suddenly, you felt nervous and completely sick to your stomach. Tomorrow night was opening night, and you didn’t know if you could do it. 

   You were quiet at dinner, only about to take a few bites before you pushed back your full plate of baked chicken and pasta salad. You suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. Joel encouraged you to eat, asked if you were okay, but you just brushed him off and went to take a long, hot shower, trying to scrub away the pit in your stomach that was eating you alive. 

   After you dried off, you grabbed one of Joel’s flannels and slipped it on, hugging it around your trembling body as you soaked up his warmth and scent. It smelled just like him. Like a cool autumn day, mixed with the scent of the woods and pine cones. It was your favorite smell because it smelled like the man you loved. 

   Taking a deep breath, you sat on the edge of the bed and twisted your fingers in the cool sheets, trying to get a hold of your growing anxiety. Tomorrow was the big night—the debut of your dancing career. It made your stomach twist into tight knots because right now at this very moment, you didn’t think you could do it. You couldn’t go out there like this. Maybe you didn’t belong. Maybe…

   In the next moment, you heard the door crack open while Joel slipped in the bedroom, his footsteps pacing over to you. You felt right on the verge of tears until he placed a warm hand on your knee and gently caressed your soft skin with the pad of his calloused thumb. And that in itself instantly soothed you. 

   “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?” he asked with concern dripping off the edge of his tongue. 

   “I’m—yeah. I’m okay,” you whispered out, feeling the lie drag against your teeth. 

   “You barely touched your dinner tonight and have been real quiet. That’s not like you.”

   “Just wasn’t very hungry I guess.”

   He clenched his jaw and looked over at you with warm eyes. “You nervous ‘bout tomorrow?”

   “Mhm,” you nodded, barely able to face the man with big brown eyes.

   “You don’t gotta be nervous, sunshine. You’ve been practicin’ so long for this. You’re gonna do great.”

   “What if I choke?” you bit out, afraid of making a fool of yourself in front of thousands.

   “You won’t.” There’s no waver in his words.

   “How do you know?” You glanced up and then melted into a big puddle by the way he was looking at you. Love and affection written in his starry eyes.

   “I jus’ know, okay?”

   “Joel, I’m scared. What if I… what if I fail?”

   “Oh, sunshine. Look at me, baby.” He dropped to his knees in front of you, taking both your hands in his, his eyes never leaving yours. “Ever since I saw you up on that stage, I jus’ knew that’s what you were made to do. The way you dance, I’ve never seen anything like that. You’ve got passion and a spark I’ve never seen anyone else have except you. You were made to be the swan, babygirl. This is exactly where you should be.”

   He swiped a falling tear away from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, easing you into a calm state. “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”

   He shrugged. “Guess I jus’ know my girl really well.”

   A quiet giggle fell from your lips as incandescent happiness bloomed around you. “I never get tired of hearing you say that.”

   “Well, I’ll say it every day then. My perfect darlin’ girl.” He shoved himself up from the floor and curled around your body until you were a blanket around his big, strong arms, melting into his weight. Until you were flush to his chest, snug in the bed.

   “I love you, Joel,” you whispered into the crook of his neck as he stroked your hair gently.

   “I love you too, beautiful. Now, c’mere.” He pulled you in closer, until there was no air left between the two of you. There was only you and him left. That’s all you needed, all you wanted.

   “I just want to stay right here. Right in this room with you. Right in your arms where it’s warm and cozy. This is my favorite place. Right here with you,” you breathed, allowing him to smother you with kisses all up and down your neck.

    He brushed a sweet kiss across your forehead and then placed his thumb and index finger around your chin, tilting your head till you were eye to eye with him. “Every time you start doubtin’ yourself or get nervous, jus’ think of me, sunshine. Think of how proud you make me, beautiful. Pretend we’re in this room, jus’ the two of us. And think of how good I make you feel. Always jus’ wanna make you feel so good. My best girl.”

   Once you nodded in response, he kissed you like no one else has. No one but him. Sweet, saccharine, gentle kisses that could bring you to your knees. “What did I ever do to deserve you…” you whispered out between kisses.

   Joel stopped a second, giving you a once over slowly, until a big smile took over his face. “I ask myself that same question every day, sunshine. What did I do to get the most beautiful ballerina?”

   You shrugged, clueless for a second, but then you remembered he saw you at your lowest. He brought you back into the sunshine. “You were there for me when no one else was. You cared, Joel. And you still care. I’m so lucky.”

   “I’ll always be there for you, sunshine. As long as you need me.”

   “I’ll always need you.” You pulled him close until all you could feel was the warmth from his body pressing into yours. You prayed you’d never have to let him go.

   As if he could read your mind, he sighed, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sunshine.” And it was a promise. You’re holding him to that. 

   Opening night. This was it. This is what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. A spot as the swan queen, your first starring role in a professional ballet. Although things have been patchy and downhill since you’ve arrived in New York, tonight was your night.

   Staring at the lit-up stage, seeing props and tapestries being strewn around the theater seemed surreal. But that fear was creeping in again—the one that nearly sent you running for the door. 

   “Hey,” Joel’s deep voice floated through your ears until your body didn’t feel like an icy lake anymore. And then his big hands were gently massaging your shoulders. “Remember what I said. You’re gonna do great, sunshine. I can’t wait to see you light up that stage as the beautiful swan you are.” His lips brushed your cheek, sending warmth radiating through every joint in your body. 

   “Thanks for always believing in me,” you breathed out, turning to throw your arms around him. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

   “Oh, sweet girl. You could never let me down.” When he untangled your arms from around him, he slowly placed a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles. “I’m gonna be here a quarter till seven. Right in the third row where my seat is. And if you get nervous or scared, just look out to the crowd and find me. I’ll be right there.” And with that, he’s blowing you one more kiss and then disappearing behind the big red curtain, leaving you alone to get ready for the big show. 

   Blowing your nerves out, you made your way back to the dressing room, letting your hands roam over the white silk of the swan dress. This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for forever. It’s here. Taking your time, you unhurriedly peeled on your tights, laced up your dress with the help from some of the girls, and slipped on your pointe shoes, tying the silk of the laces into neat bows. Next came the makeup and then the feathery crown, the last piece to the costume that would turn you into the swan queen. 

   When everything was finished, you looked up into the mirror and gasped. Everything about you screamed you were the swan queen. Winged eyeliner, shimmery red lipstick, sparkles dusted in your neat bun, the silky white fabric hugging your curves, the feathered crown glistening under the dressing room lights. You finally felt like the star you were. 

   “I’m…”

   “Beautiful,” Carlotta called from the open doorway, gazing at you like you were a goddess under the moonlight. When you turned her way, she took your hand and smiled, really smiled. The first genuine one you’ve ever seen her give to you. “You ready to go dance, my perfect swan?”

   “I—uhh. Yes,” you nodded with a small smile, thanking the girls before she whisked you out of the room to give you and Josh a pep talk and some last minute tips for your dances together. 

   “You ready to knock ‘em dead, teammate?” Josh asked when Carlotta was finished babbling. 

   You smiled and nodded. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

   In just another hour, the theater room was packed—bodies lined the red velvet seats, voices traveled all the way backstage, the spotlights dimmed and fell on the orchestra that was just starting their first act songs. And when the first dancers took their places on stage, your heart started racing. Sweat built along the back of your neck, your brain felt all fuzzy, and imposter syndrome took root in your gut. 

   Just when it was almost your time to step onto the polished stage, when you looked out, fear flooded your insides. That is until you saw him sitting in the third row, four seats away from the aisle. Your heart stopped and everything seemed to slow down. There he was—slicked back hair, an encouraging smile on his lips, nodding for you to take your place. But with one wink your way, he told you everything you needed to know. He was here for you, and you could do anything you set your mind to. 

   So with one push, you took your place in the spotlight, all nerves seeming to dissipate from your limbs. You finally felt like you belonged in this room, all because Joel gave you the courage to continue. You wouldn’t even still be here if it wasn’t for that sappy, desirable man. You wouldn’t be the swan queen for the season. And that’s exactly who you were. The swan queen. 

   With your head held high and all emotions laid out on the stage, you did what you did best, and that’s dance. You lost yourself in every move, every beat, every position. You got lost in the lull of the music, let Josh lift you over his head, gliding you through spins and jumps. You’ve never felt so weightless, especially with Joel’s eyes on you. You looked over every few minutes, hiding a blush when you locked eyes with him. Even though the crowd was dark, you could still make out those soft brown eyes. Ones that belonged to a man you were head over heels with. 

   The next couple of hours came to a sudden halt when the crowd was standing to their feet, applauding the performance of the night. Josh presented you to the crowd, and you bowed gracefully, curtsying as cheers rang loud around the dome of the theater. They ricocheted off you, swelling your chest into a big balloon before Joel’s big smile nearly sucked all the air out of you. With one more group bow, the red curtain dropped, signaling the end of your very first show. 

   Carlotta came and presented you with a bouquet of vibrant flowers, calling you the most beautiful swan in history. And with one more hug to Josh and the rest of the dancers, you made your way back to your dressing room and collapsed into the white chair in front of the lit vanity, catching your breath as you set the bouquet down next to your dance bag. 

   Just when you were about to take off your shoes, a slight knock came from the doorway. “Come in!” you shouted, still a little out of breath. You expected it to be Carlotta, but a deep, Southern drawl sounded from the doorway. 

   “There you are. There’s my little star.” You whipped your head around, and your jaw dropped to the floor. There, standing in the open doorway, was Joel Miller in a tuxedo. Dark, silky black tie, pressed black jacket, sleek black pants, a button-up white shirt tucked in that clung to his broad chest. And his hair—dark locks slicked back with grey strands threaded together. And then there was the bouquet of a dozen roses held against his chest. 

   Oh my god, he is stunning. 

   “Joel…” You were speechless, breathless even. You’ve never seen the man look so good. “You look so—good.”

   He chuckled, shook his head at the compliment. “No, darlin’. That’s all you. You leave me breathless,” he confessed with a big smile. Holding his hand out with the beautiful bouquet of roses, he nudged closer to you. “These are for you, darlin’.”

   You quietly tiptoed over to him, taking the bouquet from his hand while you sniffed the carnations, carefully setting them down on top of the vanity. “They’re so beautiful, Joel. Thank you.” 

   “Anything for my beautiful swan. Think you deserve flowers every day.”

   “Oh, yeah?” you asked as he tugged you into his strong arms, his hands cupping your face, tilting your mouth up to his. 

   “Yeah, think I might jus’ start from now on.” And then his lips were on yours, pulling you in as you got lost in the taste, the smell, the feel of him. 

   “Well,” you smiled once you broke away from the kiss. “How about a ballet studio too?” You bit your bottom lip, afraid you jumped too far, but he only smiled brighter. 

   “Yeah? That what you want?” he asked as he skimmed the pad of his thumb under your bottom lip. 

   “Mhm. In Florida. When I’m done with my contract here. I want my own studio. I want to teach.”

   He toyed with that thought a moment, flipped it through his mind before he hummed. “So, you’re telling me you wanna go back to Florida after you’re finished here? And you want your own studio to teach?”

   “Mhm, that’s what I’m saying,” you nodded with a giggle.

   “Would this include a house with me?” he asked with an arched brow, pulling you in just a little closer so his big brown eyes could rake over you. 

   “Mmmm, yes,” you breathed out, letting him wrap his strong arms around your waist until you were flush with his chest again. 

   “Alright,” he smiled, “guess you’re stuck with me then, sunshine.”

   “Promise?” you giggled as he lifted you in his arms, setting you down on the edge of the lit vanity, his hands skimming each side of you. 

   “Promise,” he whispered. “I’m gonna build you your dream studio, sunshine.”

   “I know you will, handsome,” you sighed as he pulled you into a lasting kiss, letting his lips take you to the edge of bliss once again. 

   “It’s jus’ you and me, sunshine,” he whispered between breaths. “Forever…”

   “And ever…” you finished for him as he sucked you into another breathless kiss. 

   You may have a few more months with the dance company, but you’ll have Joel for a lifetime. And that’s all you could ask for. After your contract was up, it looks like you’d be headed back to Florida. But this time, you’d get to have both ballet and the guy. It’s all you could’ve asked for. 

[grlsbstshot]

Love Language Chapter One: Daddy Lessons

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapter Synopsis:

Genie and EJ arrive in Paris at the start of their wedding week celebrations. Jameson and Imani are not far behind. As our lead couples reckon with the current status of their family situations -- secrets and drama are gearing up to take center stage at the end of the week.

Warnings: mentions of paternal test, childbirth description, tense parental/child relationships, mentions of parental abandonment, & SMUT (fingering, p in v, dirty talk, rough sex) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

!!! IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, YOU SHOULD NOT BE READING THIS !!!

Word Count: 6.6k

Paris had always been Genie’s favorite city. The winding streets, the light against historic stone buildings, the effortless elegance of it all – it made her feel like she was stepping into a dream every time she arrived. But this time, it was different. This time, she wasn’t just visiting; she was getting married.

She stood at the window of their hotel suite, gazing down at the city below. From here, she could see the Eiffel Tower glistening beneath the afternoon sun, the rooftops of Paris stretching out like an oil painting. Behind her, the faint rustling of EJ unpacking their things filled the space, grounding her in the moment. This was really happening. A smile blossomed on her face as she leaned against the railing.

“Alright, so,” EJ began. “You’ve got your final fitting tomorrow, the venue walk-through on Wednesday, the welcome luncheon on Thursday, then rehearsal dinner on Friday.” He glanced up at her with an impressed whistle. “My baby is gonna be busy. At some point, I’d like to convince my fiancée to take a breath before she passes out on our wedding day.”

Genie turned to face him, a laugh leaving her lips. “You might be right. I am feeling a little lightheaded.” She lifted her hand to press to her forehead dramatically.

“Well, we can’t have that.” He tossed the last of his things onto the floor and swept his suitcase from the bed, the sound of her laughter echoing to the street below, “It’s my duty to soothe that booty —”

“You’re insane.” “I’m in love. Get in here and get on this bed, girl.” “I can’t. I have too much to do.” “What was the point of us hiring our very expensive wedding planner if you’re gonna do it all?” “To help me do all the stuff.” “Kendrick said you’d be bossy about the wedding.”

She stiffened at the mention of her father. Her expression remained calm, but Genie turned back toward the view, her fingers curling around the balcony's iron. For a moment, she let herself feel it. The ache of knowing her father wouldn’t be here. That he hadn’t been here for any of it. Not the planning, not the moment she found her dress and wished, just for a second, that he’d be there to see it. 

It had been nine months since she saw her father. No word was exchanged between them. He called and left messages but Genie never listened. Never responded. She was devastated each and every time. The little girl inside her, the one who used to believe he was honorable, wanted things to be different. The woman she had become knew better.

Genie swallowed, fingertips grasping the balcony banister before loosening and turning to give EJ a smile. “I should make sure the menu is good. We finalized two weeks ago but you know how these things are.” she said, her voice smooth, deliberate.

EJ exhaled slowly. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what she was doing. The moment Kendrick’s name had left his mouth, she had shut down, redirecting the conversation like a well-practiced magician.

He could press the issue – he wanted to press the issue – but he also knew her well enough to know when not to push. Instead, he leaned back, studying her for a moment. She looked perfect, as always – her makeup subtle yet flawless, her hair beautifully dark coils, her jewelry understated but expensive. But she was unsettled. His gaze strayed to her hands. She was wearing the engagement ring he had given her and her fingers toyed with it absently, the only visible tell of the turmoil she was going through.

That was all he needed to know.

EJ moved across the room, slipping his arms around her waist as they stood on their balcony together. “You’re right,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to her neck. “The menu is the most important thing.”

Genie sighed, tilting her head slightly as he trailed kisses along her skin. “Glad you agree.”

“We should also probably test some of the desserts again too,” he mused, lips brushing against her jaw as he allowed the subject to change. “Just to be sure.”

She let out a soft laugh, her body relaxing against him. “We’ve already tasted them twice.”

“Mm. But we need to be certain.” His fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw before cupping her face. His brown eyes were steady on hers, full of warmth, full of knowing. “You’ve been handling everything, making sure this wedding is perfect. But I want you to realize – it already is. Because it’s us. You’re working so hard and I just…I need you to know saying yes was the day you made my life. Everything else is just icing on a very delicious cake, baby.”

Genie stared at him, her throat tightening. He always did this – found a way to cut through her armor without ever forcing his way in. She nodded, inhaling deeply before leaning in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Thank you.,” she whispered. “I love you.”

EJ grinned against her mouth, his fingers skimming over her hip as he pulled her closer. “I love you more.”

Genie’s picture flashed across the screen and Camille saw it – Kendrick froze, stopped in his tracks as he crossed the living room towards the kitchen. His baby’s wedding was the talk of the town…and he had no idea when it would be. Genie hadn’t been receptive towards her father. Every text, every call, had all gone unanswered.

It was etched across his face every single time he looked at her. 

The baby stirred in her arms and Kendrick pulled himself out of his daze. In an instant, it was like nothing had bothered him at all.

She watched him, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “Has she called?” Kendrick didn’t answer right away but slowly he shook his head. He didn’t even have to say it. Camille already knew.

“And Jameson?”

He took even longer to respond but eventually, there was a slow shake of his head again. The last time they’d seen Jameson had been in that very room – and Kendrick didn’t look any less devastated than he did now.

The house was quiet. Not just because the baby was asleep upstairs, but because the three of them sat in silence, each carrying the weight of unspoken words. She had asked Jameson to come by Kendrick’s home and he agreed. No argument, no refusal. He simply said “Okay.” She had given birth a mere week ago so she knew he understood why. 

Camille could feel the tension pressing in from all sides. There was so much between the three of them but no one said anything.

She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her posture straight, composed but she felt frantic with a pounding heartbeat in her chest. Across from her, Jameson leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at nothing in particular. He hadn’t touched the whiskey on the table. He hadn’t leaned back, hadn’t let himself settle.

Kendrick stood near the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest, but Camille knew it wasn’t defensiveness – it was caution. Restraint. He was watching Jameson carefully, waiting, though for what, she wasn’t sure.

And then Jameson finally spoke.

“So it’s his.” His voice was quiet, even toned, but Camille caught the way his shoulders eased ever so slightly before she could even answer. 

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate, not wanting the suspense to linger.

She had tested the baby as soon as he was born. Doing it before carried minimal risk but she refused to hurt her child even a tiny percent. The results had come back the day before. It was a relief if she were being honest – having an answer and knowing she wouldn’t be connected to her ex-boyfriend for life. The media were speculating about her child, a frenzy over her former relationship with Jameson had been replaced with rumors. Half the country thought her baby was his and the other half thought it was Kendrick’s. Everyone thought she was a family-wrecking slut.

All she wanted to do was protect her child.

“Okay.” Jameson exhaled, slow and measured, and in that moment, she saw it – relief. Faint, but real. She had no doubt he would have been an active father but he was glad that he didn’t have to be. At least not to her child. There was also something else beneath it. A sadness, deep and weary, lingering in the way he didn’t quite meet Kendrick’s gaze.

“That’s all you have to say?” she asked, watching him carefully.

“On the subject of your child? Yes.” He let out a small breath. For the first time in a long time, when his eyes met hers, they were soft. “As for everything else? I’m sorry for it.” His voice was steady. “For how everything happened. For hurting you. I owed you better than that. I shouldn’t have been unfaithful to you.”

The sincerity in his voice tightened something in her chest. She had immediately put Jameson in the past once she truly accepted the end of their relationship but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when it ended. His apology soothed some of that ache.

“I’m sorry, too,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have lied. I didn’t expect to like you. But I did and I wanted to stay close to you. I went about it the wrong way. I owed you better than that.”

It wasn’t an absolution. It wasn’t a fixing of things. But it was the closest they would get to peace between them. And she knew it was important. If Kendrick was going to get his family back, there had to be peace.

Just then he shifted, drawing her attention. “Jameson—”

Jameson didn’t turn to meet Kendrick’s gaze but he tensed. His whole body was just waiting for what was going to come next.

“I—” Kendrick faltered, just for a second, something uncertain in his expression. Camille recognized it instantly – hesitation, regret, the ache of something lost. “I didn’t mean for things to happen like they did. I didn’t mean the things I said.”

Jameson’s mouth twitched like he was amused but too tired to show it. He shook his head. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Jamie…” “You’re a good man, Kendrick. You raised me for so many years with no complaints. I know you’re good. Your job is over though. That burden you carried –” “You were never a burden, Jamie.” “Either way. I’m off your back. Thank you for giving me the time you did.”

And just like that, whatever Kendrick had wanted to say died in his throat. Camille knew him well enough to know he had been building up to something more but Jameson wasn’t interested in hearing it. And Kendrick – for all his pride – wasn’t going to force it.

The moment was interrupted by soft footsteps.

The nanny appeared at the edge of the room, the baby resting against her chest. She spoke gently. “He was stirring. Thought he might want his father.”

Camille turned in time to see Kendrick reach for their son without hesitation. The moment he had him in his arms, everything about him softened. The careful way he cradled the baby’s head, the way his fingers skimmed over the fine curls in his hair.

Jameson watched. She saw the shift in his expression – the flicker of something quiet and painful. He wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t even angry. He was just…sad. 

He pushed himself to his feet. “I should go.”

Camille stood instinctively. “Jameson—”

He glanced at her and shook his head. He wasn’t leaving in anger, but he was leaving all the same. But before he did, he stopped. Camille felt her chest tighten as Jameson’s gaze dropped once more to the baby. He lifted a hand to brush against the child’s little hand but didn’t make a move to hold him. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet Kendrick’s.

“Congratulations,” Jameson said, his voice even but heavy. “On finally having a son.”

The words landed like a blow. Even if he didn’t mean them cruelly, they hurt all the same. Camille saw it in the way Kendrick went still – his grip on their baby tightened slightly but Jameson didn’t wait for a response.

He turned and walked out, and this time, Camille knew that he wasn’t coming back.

It was a memory that haunted her. Her son brought her so much joy but when she thought about everything Kendrick had lost for these little moments…guilt hit her hard. “Give them some time.”

“How much time?” He asked her abruptly, frustration burning in his gaze. “I want my children to meet. I want to walk my daughter down the aisle. I want…I want so much and it’s all out of my grasp.” 

“I know, baby. I understand this is hard. KJ is a baby but I can’t imagine what I’d feel if he stopped talking to me. Just…this has been a lot for them. I hate this. But you have to give them time.” Camille consoled him.

He exhaled sharply, padding across the room and taking a seat on the couch next to her. He was hurt. So many emotions filtered through his face that Camille couldn’t name them all. Instead, she cuddled closer to him, offering him the one child that he did have left.

The café was tucked away on a quiet street, away from the more crowded corners of Paris. A warm breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread and strong coffee, but the tension between Jameson and EJ dulled everything else.

This was the first time they had seen each other after the dinner from hell in Los Angeles. Jameson had holed up with Imani, ignoring the outside world, and EJ had tried to do damage control with his own life. There was no time for the friends to even begin the process of moving forward…until now.

It hadn’t been planned exactly, but EJ reached out and Jameson hadn’t said no. It was a start.

Now, they sat across from each other, silence stretching between them.

Jameson stirred his espresso, though he hadn’t taken a sip yet. His long legs crossed at the ankle. EJ, for his part, watched him and waited for a snag in the tension. Finally, Jameson exhaled and spoke. “So,” he said, tone measured. “You ready?”

EJ raised a brow. “For the wedding? Of course. I told you before I proposed. I’m ready. That’s my baby.”

Jameson nodded, seemingly approving once again of the fact that there was no hesitation when it came to Genie. She deserved the kind of person who would make her a priority. Jameson knew that EJ was that kind of man. He should’ve felt happier for him but the weight between them still sat heavy.

EJ saw it. Could feel it in the air so he leaned back in his chair and asked. “We gone talk about it?”

“We don’t have to,” Jameson said with a shrug. “Lying ass. We do. You wanted to take my head off that night.” “If I insulted your future wife, wouldn’t you want to do the same to me?” “Yes. But let’s not pretend future wifey ain’t give as good as she got.” “Here you go.” “Nah, I’m not on that for real. I’m getting married. I promised my wife that I would let it go. It’s not my place to interfere. Never was.” “On that, we can agree.” “Mhm.”

The two lapsed into silence. The ceasefire of sorts did more to break the tension between them and it gave Jameson the courage to say more. “I understand why you were doing it,” Jameson said softly. “I’m grateful you care. But…Imani is my life, EJ. No matter how close we are, when it comes to her, you’ll always on the outside looking in. You don’t know how I feel when I’m with her. You don’t know that nothing else compares. No drug, no liquor. None of it feels as good as standing next to her. So, please. If you really care about me, don’t ever disrespect her again. Because then I’ll have to choose. She’ll always win. Over everybody.”

EJ nodded, realizing from the argument with Genie that he truly was being overprotective. He didn’t trust Imani but the truth was very clear. He didn’t know her the way Genie did. The way Jameson did. The way his friend’s eyes brightened as he spoke about her right then was just another sign that he’d done wrong. He meant well but he was causing even more distress to Jamie and Genie. It had to end. “I understand, man. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

He knew he wouldn’t hesitate to choose Genie first. So how could he be upset at Jameson wanting to do the same? It was a plea and a warning all in one…and EJ heeded it. Genie couldn’t lose anyone else. And he didn’t want to either.

There was an understanding in place.

Jameson finally took a sip of coffee, letting the taste settle before responding. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I should have fought harder to keep you two from going head to head.”

EJ tilted his head. “You know me. I got a big mouth and ain’t nobody stopping me from saying what I want to say. I see your future wife is the same way.”

Jameson laughed softly, rubbing a hand against the stubble on his jawline. “You don’t even know the half of it. She threatened to beat my father up.”

The shift in EJ was immediate. His expression didn’t change much, but something settled in his posture, his focus sharpening entirely on Jameson. “Your father? Kendrick?”

Jameson shook his head. He looked down at his cup as if he could find the right words in the white porcelain, before exhaling sharply and looking back at EJ. “Julian. He was at my mama’s house, man. I showed up and he was sitting on her damn couch.”

EJ didn’t rush him. Didn’t prod. But he leaned forward, on the edge of his seat. From what Jameson had said about his father, he disappeared. Not a word from him since he was nine. And now? He was in his life?

Jameson let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “It was...crazy. Seeing him, hearing his voice –” He hesitated, then admitted, “It felt like looking at a ghost. I didn’t even recognize him when he turned around. For a second…I didn’t recognize my father.”

EJ’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak. He let Jameson keep going.

“He wanted to explain. I could see him gearing up for it but I ain’t want to hear that shit,” Jameson continued, “He left, he hurt my mother, he should’ve been around.” He exhaled. “But he wasn’t.”

EJ set his glass down with a quiet clink. “So how did it end?”

Jameson glanced away for a second before looking back. “Told him I wanted nothing to do with him. Didn’t care about ‘talking’ about any of it.” A beat. “Then he left.”

EJ studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Good.”

Jameson huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “He keeps insisting we need to talk. Been calling my mama to ask her to help. She thinks it’d be good to get it all out but I think about that nigga and I swear I get mad.”

“Don’t do it if you don’t want to. You don’t owe him shit, Jay.” EJ said without hesitation. “You don’t owe him no time to talk.”

Jameson hadn’t realized he needed to hear that, but something in his chest loosened at the words.

Suddenly, the air between them felt lighter. It felt like they had each gotten their best friend back. Silence settled again, but this time, it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t loaded. It was comfortable and true.

Jameson looked out at the street, at the people passing by, at the world moving as if nothing had changed. But something had. When he turned back to EJ, he felt it – the shift, the quiet understanding that, whatever had been between them before, it wasn’t as heavy now.

EJ smirked over at him. “You gonna give a speech at my wedding?” “Hell yeah. And you better cry at the end of it or I’m gonna propose to Mani at your reception and steal all y'all thunder.” “Nigga, fuck you!” EJ laughed out loud, shaking his head.

“My baby,” Imani sang out in a melodious voice, her words stretching out like a lullaby. She approached Genie with a joyful bounce in her step, enveloping her in a warm embrace. They swayed gently, back and forth, wrapped in each other’s arms. “I missed you so much,” she whispered.

It had been months since she last saw her best friend. The whirlwind of her promo tour for her album, “Love Me 4 Me” had kept her constantly on the move. Photoshoots, interviews, rehearsals, performances, and then doing it all over again had left her with little time to herself. Paris offered her not only a chance to celebrate Genie’s upcoming wedding but also a brief respite from her hectic schedule.

“I missed you too. Even though you’ve been all over the tv looking good. I wonder who helped style you.” Genie said with a small giggle, celebrating her small part in Imani’s success.

“A future designer of the year did. She’s pretty good, I’m sure you know her.” She laughed and stepped back slightly to take in her friend’s attire. “Bitch, you look good!” She exclaimed, watching as Genie spun around gracefully. “You’re glowing.”

“Thank you, thank you. EJ won’t get off me.” Genie laughed, “You look amazing too. Come sit. I already ordered mimosas for us.” Her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she gently pulled away and returned to her seat across the elegantly set table. Imani took her place opposite her friend, the light catching the delicate glassware around them.

“Ooh, girl. That’s all you,” Imani replied with a playful wave of her hand, acknowledging Genie’s thoughtful gesture. She lifted the cool glass of water, sipping it as she settled into the moment. “So when is everyone getting here?”

“EJ’s family is coming tomorrow. They have to do last-minute fittings for gowns. Also, please don’t forget your appointment is with me tomorrow.” “I won’t, I won’t. It’ll be good to see them. I get to see my girl, Ella.” “Mhm. Oh, and Anaïs is coming with Toni. They’ll be here Wednesday. The rest of the guests will be in by Friday morning.”

Imani’s eyes involuntarily rolled upwards, their movement as automatic and precise as a smartphone adjusting itself for daylight savings time. She was unaware of this reflex until she caught sight of Genie’s perplexed expression. “And what was that about?” Genie inquired, her eyes narrowing

“Oh…nothing!” Imani responded hastily, attempting to dismiss the incident as if Genie didn’t know her better than anyone else, even Jameson. Imani hadn’t said a word to anyone about Lucian being a product of her aunt’s affair with Julian—not even to Jameson. He was the one who deserved to hear it first, given that Lucian was his brother. Telling Genie was out of the question.

“Is something going on between you and Toni? Or Ana?” Genie probed further. Imani shook her head adamantly. “Please, Mani, I need to know now. I don’t want this to be an issue at my wedding. Do I need to adjust the seating chart?”

“No, no, everything is all good. I promise. Nothing is going to ruin your wedding. I’m the maid of honor and I won’t allow it.” “You sure? It’s not a problem. I want you to be comfortable. It’s nothing to disinvite someone.” “Everything’s good, baby.”

“I don’t believe you but fine. I’ll let it drop. I’m feeling stressed eneough,” Genie sighed, causing Imani’s expression to relax. Fortunately, the waiter arrived to take their orders. He made quick work of things and once he was gone, Imani leaned in to speak quietly.

“Is it about your dad?” “No. My father is a non-factor in my life.” “Ahh, so we still off him? Bet. Why are you stressed then?” “I’m planning a wedding in a foreign country while the media speculates about my family.”

Imani exhaled, grasping the weight on her best friend’s shoulders instantly. The media were having a field with with Jameson/Camille/Kendrick's messy entanglement, her pregnancy, and Genie's notable distance from her father. It was a miracle it hadn't totally overtaken Imani's press tour. “I’m sorry, Genie baby. But fuck those people. Fuck the media. Fuck everything,” she said, her voice full of determination. “If you need help with the wedding, I got you. That’s what I’m here for.” 

“Thank you.” Genie sighed softly, reaching over to grasp Imani’s hand. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re here with me. I need all the family I can get.”

The baby’s gentle, sweet cries gradually subsided as he rocked slowly in the chair, humming Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Kendrick Joseph Adesanya Jr. slowly surrendered to sleep and the elder was relieved. He had forgotten just how hard it was to care for an infant. 

KJ was nothing short of perfection – a beautiful baby with warm brown skin and his mother’s charming dimples, who only cried when his needs were unmet and slept well into the night. Kendrick’s heart swelled with adoration for the tiny life before him, even as he mourned.

He wished KJ hadn’t been born into turmoil. Kendrick wished for a world where his arrival hadn’t signaled the end of his once-cherished relationship with Genie and Jameson. He had lost two children in the process of gaining one, and the weight of that loss pressed heavily on him.

Genie had shut the door on him completely. There was nothing he could do short of crashing her wedding and he knew he loved her too much to ruin her special day. Kendrick let out a resigned sigh. His mind drifted back to the day his son was born – the day he thought maybe Genie would soften. That she’d be there. But there was only sharp confirmation that he wasn’t welcome in his daughter’s life.

It had been a day consumed by panic. Unlike the tranquil arrival of Genie, this day didn’t have any comforting loved ones. Back then, familiar faces stood by his side, soothing his nerves while Elizabeth gave birth but in the present – he and Camille only had each other.

In the dim light of the delivery room, Camille’s trembling hand clutched his own as she cried out. Kendrick offered her whispering words of reassurance as she pushed through the pain. It felt as if forever had passed but he finally caught a glimpse of the child. Officially, he didn’t know if the baby was his or not but when the doctors pulled him free and began to clean his little body – Kendrick knew. He just knew. This was his son. He looked so much like Genie that it was shocking.

He didn’t have anyone to celebrate this momentous occasion, only Camille by his side. There was no one to excitedly share photographs with, no familiar voice to ring in celebration, no one to call over FaceTime. He was alone. As the doctors checked KJ’s vitals, he quietly stepped out of the sterile room and dialed her number, his mind spinning.

As the third ring echoed in the empty corridor, Kendrick’s smile began to falter. He knew all too well that she wasn’t going to answer. Once more, his call would go to voicemail. Instead of ending the call immediately, he gathered his resolve and left a message:

“Uh, hey, Genie, this is Daddy. I know you probably hate me right now, but I just wanted to let you know the baby is here. He looks like you did when you were born. Also, I saw that you and EJ set a date. No matter what's happened, I'm so happy for you. I'm so proud, baby girl. You’re smart, beautiful, creative, and talented. I’m blessed to have a daughter like you…and I can only hope that I can raise your brother to be just like you.”

He paused for a moment, his hand subconsciously massaging the back of his head as if trying to alleviate the heaviness of the words. “Um, please call me when you get the chance. I love you. I'm so sorry.”

Imani carefully hung her final outfit in the suite’s spacious closet. She turned on her heels, and made her way to the hotel’s lush bed, sinking into its softness with a contented sigh. After a long exhausting flight, following it up with lunch with Genie, and unpacking, all Imani wanted was to spend the night in plush Parisian sheets.

“My baby tired, huh?” Jameson asked, his head propped against a pillow as he scrolled through his phone, watching her as she climbed onto the bed. He and Imani hadn’t spent much time apart. Jameson clung to her – his need to reacclimate to the new status quo meant he was damn near clingy. She hadn’t minded it at all. She let him be needy, reassured and restored him when he needed it. There was love in his eyes when he looked at her, a faint smile on his face as Imani slipped beneath the silky covers.

She shifted closer to him, her head on his pillow. “Yeah, it was a long ass day,” she confessed. She entwined her leg over his, resting her head more firmly on his chest, reveling in the comfort of his gentle embrace. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as her fingers traced circles on his bare skin. “And tomorrow I have a fitting with Genie. I hope I can still fit into this dress.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” Jameson asked, setting his phone on the nightstand before turning back to her. He wrapped his arm around her, his fingers tenderly caressing her side as they watched one another.

“I’m getting a lil’ thick, baby. They call that happy weight,” she replied, casting a playful smirk in his direction. Imani had noticed a slight change in her figure, a subtle weight gain that was hardly noticeable to others but apparent to her. She hoped it was slight enough to keep her in her current dress size.

“Do they? Whatever it is, I’m thankful for it. It looks good on you, girl,” he said with a teasing tap on her ass. Imani laughed out loud, her hand smacking against his arm just as teasingly. 

“How’s Genie? She doing okay?” He asked her softly, pressing a kiss to her head. “She’s…doing the best she can. Stressed about the wedding going well but…she aight.” 

Imani weighed what to tell Jameson. She loved him but Genie was her best friend. She had to keep things between them. And Kendrick was just going to have to be one of those things. 

“I’m glad she has you. I talked to Ma earlier today. She’ll be here this week.” “Yeah, Genie told me.” “What about Toni? I didn’t think to ask Ma. Is she coming?”

Just like before with Genie, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes slightly, her annoyance clear. “I don’t know…” she muttered. “I think Genie said Wednesday.”

Jameson lifted his head, leaning back to get a good look at his girlfriend. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on between you and your aunty?” Once closer than close, he knew something was wrong when Imani actively went out of her way to avoid Toni on more than one occasion.

“I did tell you, baby. We’re not seeing eye-to-eye on business shit.” “Yeah, that’s the fake answer you gave me. What’s the real one?”

A heavy silence fell between them. Imani wanted to be truthful, but the timing felt wrong. After a day filled with memories and laughter with their friends, it didn’t seem right to reveal a family secret about a sibling he didn’t know he had. He had worked so hard to pull himself together after Camille and Kendrick’s situation. Then his father came back. Things were hard for Jameson and she didn’t want to add more. “That is the real answer, baby,” she insisted gently.

“You can’t bullshit me, woman. I know you too well.” “I’m not.”

She wasn’t budging on it and he could see frustration edging in on her face the more he pushed. He had a choice: Start an argument or wait until she was ready to talk. They were in Paris, he could see the lights of the Eiffel Tower peeking into their window. The last thing he wanted to do was fight.

“Okay, baby. I believe you,” he said, though the humorous edge in his tone suggested otherwise. Imani could sense the disbelief lingering in the air, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep this truth from him. 

“I’m serious, Jamie!” She huffed, glaring at him and Jameson felt himself soften even more. 

“I said I believe you, baby.” He muttered lowly, leaning in to give her another kiss. “I do. C’mere.”

Imani jerked away from him, sending a bubble of laughter from Jameson’s throat. His hand rested against her thigh, pulling her close as she rolled onto her back to get away from him. 

“You lying!” “Well, you lying too so that makes us even!” “Shut up!”

Jameson laughed even harder as she smacked his hand hard, rolling away from him. He caught her wrist with gentle fingers, "Un-uh. Come back here." he whispered against her neck.

Imani rolled her eyes but a smile fought to break through the stern expression. She tsked softly, peering over him. "What you want with me?”

“Everything.” He said softly. Jameson’s hand rested against Imani’s thigh, drawing small circles on her skin. She opened her mouth to say something but Jameson lifted his head from her neck to kiss her. He drew it out – the whimper that left the back of her throat brought a groan from his. 

He moved his fingertips along her skin with ease. Imani shivered as they danced across her body, every stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout her body. The closer they got to between her legs, the more she parted her thighs. Within seconds, he was pulling her panties aside and running his fingers across her clit.

Imani inhaled sharply, biting down on her lower lip as he made his moves. Jameson toyed with her, knowing exactly how to leave her trembling. His warm breath against her cheek sent tingles down her spine, his hushed whispers of filthy promises and praise only serving to heighten the anticipation coursing through her veins.

“Jamie –” “Hm?” “More. Please.” “Is that what you want? Ion know. You ain’t been so nice to me.”

Imani squeezed her thighs closed over his hand, stilling his fingers as she turned to meet his gaze. There was amusement in his eyes but she saw the lust there too. It was ever present as always.

“Open.”

It was one word. All he gave her but she could tell he meant it. She hesitated before slowly…too slowly…opening her legs. 

“That’s better.” He still kept the same tortuous pace, digits circling her clit as she melted against the bed. “Let me take care of you. You want me to, right?” Imani nodded, her eyes flickering closed as she rode his fingers. They shifted lower, his thumb still pressed against the most sensitive part of her.

As his fingers expertly teased her entrance, she arched her back in ecstasy – moaning softly into the air. The feel of his rough fingertips against her smooth skin was almost too much to bear; she couldn't help but wriggle and squirm next to him, desperate for more. “Please, baby.” she gasped, every syllable dripping with need as he pressed into her. “Oh my god…”

Jameson lay next to her, leaning over her body as he watched her. His mouth moved deliciously – from her cheek to her neck. From her neck to her mouth. From her mouth down to her nipples. He licked, kissed, bit, and caressed her everywhere until she was gushing over his fingers. 

His hands meticulously explored every inch of her dripping wet pussy – bringing gasps and moans of delight with every touch. His tongue flicked out to trace the shape of her nipple before nipping down – an act that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. She couldn't help but grind her hips up towards his touch, desperate for relief from the building ache between her legs. "Daddy, fuck me." she pleaded breathlessly, a mixture of hunger and frustration in her voice. 

“No.”

The single word he gave her startled her. Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him. “No?!”

Jameson laughed, shaking his head as he fucked her faster with his fingers. “Nah. Your legs ain’t started shaking yet.” He spoke casually as if he wasn’t damn near wrist deep with three fingers inside her. Imani licked her lips, confusion clear on her pretty face but he didn’t relent. She could feel him hard against her legs but he didn’t try to take it further. He just kept rubbing at her clit, bringing wetness from between her legs, and licking anywhere he could.

His digits curled and twisted inside her and Imani's entire body tensed. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her hips bucking wildly against his hand. "Oh shit…" she panted, her voice trembling. "Please, Jameson."

“There it go.” He muttered, the telltale sign that he was looking for making itself obvious. Imani’s leg had started trembling. “That’s what Daddy was looking for. You feel it, baby?”

Imani nodded so fast that her head bobbed against the pillow.

“This what I like to see. Legs open. You gone for me, huh?” She muttered something – it sounded like a yes but he didn’t slow down to catch it. Jameson pressed a kiss to her lips, pleased when she was so out of it that she could hardly return it. “Look at that pussy. Wet just like I like it. I’ma tear you up. Go ahead and give me that nut.”

It was a promise, she could tell. And it made her legs close tightly over his fingers. He didn’t command her to open her legs that time. Jameson simply rose from the bed and moved with an ease that surprised – he pried her legs open. He pushed his face between her legs, sucking at her clit as his fingers strummed her to release.

Imani threw back her head and let out a long, euphoric moan as she came, her nails dug into his shoulder as her leg shot into the air. She pressed her foot to his shoulder, grinding against his mouth and fingers. "Daddy!," she breathed out between gasps for air. "Fuck! Oh my god!"

Jameson growled, the exquisite squirts of release covering his fingers and face – dripping down his wrist and onto the sheets. Imani rolled her head from side to side, hips rising the further he took her. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he rose from between her legs and flipped her over. In a single breath, she was on her stomach.

No words passed between them – they both understood what came next. Imani pressed her body down to the bed and offered her hands to Jameson. He gathered them, pressing them to the small of her back before easing into her smoothly. They both moaned.

"Ooh, goddamn it." "Shit, Mani. Soak this dick, baby. Wet that shit up real good for Daddy."

He moved against her, pelvis grinding into her. He delivered an open-palmed smack to her skin, and Imani reacted immediately, climaxing around him. It all happened so quickly that neither fully processed it. He placed a foot on the bed, adjusting her into the perfect position, and just as he was about to continue, there came a knock at the door.

[itgirlgasly]

if the f1 grid was actually a Kpop group

source I was a kpop stan 2015-2018 and a f1 fan 2018-2023

the group is called FORMATION 1 (F1) and it means that they form 1 bcs they are a inseparable unit. their debut song is DRS and someone yells D R S in the chorus.

verstappen has the most dating scandals also he is seen smoking once and his fans have a meltdown.

charles is lead singer n releases OST for kdramas and all his stans insist that thats REAL music and nothing like the shallow pop the group releases (he has the most solo Stans)

esteban is always in the back during dance formations bcs he cant move

lance is there and does some backup vocals idk he has 2 lines a song on average his stans think he gets robbed every release but he also cant hit a note to safe his life so ://

george is good at aegyo

norris is the guy who always says his favorite musicians are Chris brown and Justin Bieber

guanyu has the best photocards

Alonsos stage name is samurai and he has a scandal before the group even debuts also he gets called a hag every day also he wins every challenge in the variety shows

Sainz hates every cute concept he has to do but it sells so

Pierre is the main rapper but he cant rap but his Stans truly believe hes the second coming of Tupac (they dont know any other rappers) also he has at least 2 scandals bcs of his hair styles. in this au he has hair

[formulafanfics13]

All Eyes on Me - Chapter 20

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The jet glided smoothly and silently above the clouds, sunlight spilling through tinted windows onto polished marble tables and pale pink velvet seats. The cabin was calm, perfectly managed luxury, as the girls slipped back into their off-duty routines.

Lila was curled up on one of the oversized lounge chairs, fluffy blanket pulled over her legs, scrolling through TikTok with the sound low but the video moving fast. Occasionally, she'd cackle at something unhinged and flip her screen to show Taylor, who sat cross-legged beside her, deep into her second coffee. Barbara had slipped into a silk eye mask, noise-canceling headphones over her ears, quietly napping under a cashmere throw.

Julia sat toward the front, typing softly on her tablet. Karen reviewed upcoming schedules on her own device, both women keeping one ear open but never interfering. For now, everything was stable.

Martha sat beside Gigi toward the back of the jet, both girls in oversized sweats, faces still glowing from the skincare IV drips administered just after takeoff. Their legs were tangled loosely across the plush seating, each of them scrolling on their phones.

Every so often, one of the girls would casually drop a photo into their Instagram drafts, photo dumps from Shanghai, staged candids, mirror selfies, private jet flexes. The likes piled up instantly. Susie liked Martha's post within two minutes. So did Lando. So did Pierre. So did Christian's burner account no one publicly acknowledged.

And then, one by one, the girls began following the drivers on Instagram. The drivers followed back within seconds.

Martha scrolled idly, the screen lighting her face softly as she flipped through comments flooding her latest post. But after a few silent minutes, her voice cut quietly into the hum of the jet, soft, barely above the engines. "Hey G," she murmured without looking up.

Gigi glanced over. "Yeah?"

Martha hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, her tone even but slightly too light. "Jacob's out of town until Thursday," she said softly. "Would it be okay if I crashed at yours for a couple nights?"

Gigi blinked. That familiar protective instinct kicked in instantly, no questions, no second thought. "Of course," Gigi said gently. "Stay as long as you need."

Martha finally glanced up, a faint relieved smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks."

Gigi reached out, lightly squeezing Martha's hand, her voice dropping just for her. "You know you don't have to ask."

Martha didn't reply, but her fingers curled slightly around Gigi's. A tiny lifeline, offered and silently grabbed.

At the front of the cabin, Julia glanced up briefly from her tablet, noting the interaction, logging it quietly in her head, but not interfering. They were still functioning. Still contained. Still marketable. As long as the machine ran, Julia wouldn't care where Martha slept.

Martha stays at Gigi's apartment. They keep things calm: movies, content posts, controlled meals, IV drips every morning to prep for the next stretch of travel. Julia and Karen check in daily, monitoring intake, maintaining appearance.

Jacob? Quietly approving from a distance, because Martha's under watch, controlled, with someone "trusted." He doesn't fight it. Not yet.

The moment she stepped through the door, she knew. The air was heavier.

Jacob sat on the living room sofa, still, tense, elbows on his knees, phone in hand. His jaw locked. His eyes didn't meet hers right away. The big floor-to-ceiling windows behind him framed the skyline, but inside the apartment, it felt like a sealed box.

Her overnight bag slipped quietly from her shoulder onto the marble floor. "Hey," Martha said softly, cautious. "I'm home."

Silence. She glanced at the phone still clutched tightly in his hand. And then she saw it. The Instagram photo. It was one of the carousel images, both F1 and Victoria's Secret had posted earlier that afternoon, Shanghai race highlights, driver grid shots, behind-the-scenes campaign content.

And in the middle of one image: Martha. Sitting beside Toto Wolff in the Mercedes garage. Her head slightly tilted toward him as he pointed at the screen. Her eyes locked on his hand. Focused. Attentive. Perfectly, innocently framed, but not to Jacob.

His voice came low first. Controlled. Ice cold. "What the fuck is this."

Martha didn't move, keeping her tone measured. "It's from Friday. During FP1."

"I know when it's from." His voice sharpened. "I'm asking what it is."

She swallowed lightly, carefully. "I was in the Mercedes garage. Toto explained some of the data to me while I was sitting there."

His jaw twitched. "Explained some of the data," he repeated mockingly.

"Yes," she said gently, "that's all."

Jacob's breathing shifted. "You expect me to believe that's all it was?" His voice rose, sharp like a blade. "You're sitting that close to him. Staring at him like that. His hand right there. You're telling me you weren't flirting? You weren't playing it for attention?"

Martha exhaled, trying to keep her pulse steady. "Jacob, that wasn't what was happening."

He stood suddenly, fast enough to make her flinch half a step. His eyes were burning now, the calm slipping into something more feral, more dangerous. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You've been gone for weeks. You're spending every fucking race weekend with men surrounding you, drivers, team bosses, posing, smiling, laughing. You think I don't see the way you look at them?"

Her voice cracked for just a moment. "Jacob-"

"You think I'm stupid?" His voice exploded, the volume rising uncontrollably. "You think I can't see it?! You're embarrassing me!"

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She kept her hands low, controlled. "I'm not embarrassing you. I'm doing my job."

Jacob's eyes snapped toward the phone again, waving it once like evidence in court. "This?" His voice was nearly shaking now. "This isn't your job. This is you trying to get attention. From him. From fucking Toto Wolff. From other men."

Martha's breath caught. "That's not true."

But Jacob wasn't listening anymore. Because Jacob never needed proof. He needed control. And tonight? He was losing it. 

The air in the room had thickened, heavy and sharp like it was vibrating under invisible pressure. Jacob paced, jaw tight, hand gripping his phone like he was moments from launching it across the marble floor. The photo glared up at him from the screen like gasoline poured on an open flame. Martha stood perfectly still. Her hands by her sides. Her breathing controlled. Her face neutral. Because she knew. She'd felt it building from the moment she stepped through the door. Tonight would be one of those nights.

Jacob finally stopped pacing. His voice dropped into a quieter register, a tone far more dangerous than the shouting that preceded it. "When's your next flight?"

Martha's throat was tight, but her words were even. "Tuesday morning."

He stared at her. "Tuesday morning," he repeated slowly.

"We're flying to Miami. For the Grand Prix."

The corner of Jacob's mouth curled into a sick little smirk, his rage momentarily folding into bitter mockery. "Of course you are." His laugh was hollow. "More grid walks. More fucking photographers. More men staring at you. More photos with him."

Martha stayed silent. She knew there was no calming him now.

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "And I'm just supposed to sit here again while you parade around like a fucking whore for all of them."

The word cracked through the room like a whip. Martha flinched internally, but not outwardly. Her voice barely above a whisper. "You know that's not true."

That was it. That was the spark. Jacob's control snapped fully, and his voice exploded into a full scream, rage boiling out of him as his fist slammed into the nearest wall with a violent crack. "DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME."

Martha didn't move. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Because movement made it worse.

"You want them, don't you? You want to fuck them. All of them. The drivers. The fucking team principals. You think I don't see it?" His voice shook now, eyes wild. "You think you can make me look like a fucking idiot in front of the entire world?" His breath was heavy, erratic, chest rising and falling like a man on the verge of snapping completely.

Martha swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice almost too soft to hear. "Jacob-"

He stepped toward her fast. And then, the first hit. His open hand cracked across her cheekbone with a sharp, wet snap, sending her head violently to the side. Her body rocked slightly on her feet, but she didn't fall. She never fell. She stayed upright.

His breathing was a growl now. "You love humiliating me, don't you?"

Martha's head stayed bowed slightly, eyes focused on a tiny speck on the marble floor. "I don't," she whispered.

He hit her again. Harder. The sound of skin-on-skin snapped through the room like the echo of gunfire. Her lip split under the force, but still, she stood there. Her face throbbed. Her vision blurred. But she stayed still. Because she was trained for this. Because this was routine now.

Jacob's hands grabbed her upper arms, fingers digging into her skin hard enough to bruise instantly. "You're not going to make a fucking fool out of me," he hissed inches from her face. "I won't let you."

Tears stung behind her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She never let them fall. "I'm sorry," she whispered automatically.

He shoved her back sharply, her body hitting the edge of the dining table, the corner biting into her hipbone. "You should be," he spat.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The entire apartment vibrated with his heaving breath.

Finally, Jacob stepped back, pacing again, hand raking through his hair like he needed something to anchor him.

Martha stood where she landed, breath shaking now, chest tight, blood already drying on her split lip.

Jacob's voice came again, quieter but still venomous. "You're going to Miami," he said like a command. "You'll keep playing your little role. But if I see one more photo like that-" He paused, looking at her like she was nothing but glass in his way. "-I swear to God, Martha, I will fucking destroy you."

The silence after Jacob's last shove hung thick in the air. The broken, heavy breathing between them filled the entire penthouse. He wasn't finished.

Martha still stood near the dining table, her body rigid, face burning from where his open hand had cracked across her skin.

Jacob's eyes locked on her again, wild, untethered, and she saw it happen before it even did. The moment snapped. His fist came without warning. Straight into her face. Her head whipped sideways as the blow landed square on her cheekbone. The sickening crunch echoed through the room. Her vision flashed white as she stumbled back, but this time she couldn't stay upright.

She crumpled down onto the marble floor, her hip slamming against the sharp corner of a chair leg on the way down. Her head spun. The room tilted. But still, she made no sound. No screaming. No crying. No begging. Just compliance.

Jacob loomed over her now, breathing like an animal, voice shaking with rage. "You think you're untouchable," he spat. "You think you're smarter than me."

Martha kept her eyes cast downward. Blood slid from the corner of her mouth, one eye already beginning to swell, blurring at the edges of her vision.

"You humiliate me. In front of millions." His voice trembled with fury. "You act like you're some fucking angel."

And then his leg came back, and his foot crashed into her side. The blunt force of his kick drove directly into her ribs with a heavy, wet thud. Her entire body convulsed on impact, pain detonating through her chest like fire. One rib cracked. Maybe two. Breathing instantly sharper, harder. Still, no screaming.

She curled slightly, instinctively clutching her side, face pressed against the cold marble as her head spun violently. She'd felt worse. But this was bad. And he wasn't finished.

Jacob stood over her, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched white, voice venomous and shaking now. "You keep pushing me. But next time?" He bent slightly toward her ear. "Next time, I won't stop here."

Martha's vision swam. She whispered the only thing she could, the only thing that had always kept him from fully snapping into something unfixable. "I'm sorry." The words barely left her throat, breath caught on the sharp pain in her ribs.

Jacob straightened again, pacing a few short steps away from her crumpled body. "I'm coming to Miami."

Her stomach twisted at the words.

He turned to face her again, voice slightly calmer but still full of acid. "You hear me? I want to see what the fuck is going on for myself."

Martha swallowed past the tight pain in her chest, blinking through the blood sliding toward her jaw. "I'll... I'll sort it," she whispered.

Jacob exhaled sharply. "You better." He left her there, on the floor, retreating to the kitchen to grab a glass of water like nothing had happened.

Martha stayed still. Her side screamed. Her face pulsed with hot, blinding waves of pressure. The eye would bruise fast. The ribs would swell by morning. But her mind? Still calculating. Still surviving. Because tomorrow, the show would go on.

The morning after, the phone rang twice before David picked up. He already knew it would be her. "M," he answered softly, voice smooth and professional like always.

Martha's voice came quiet, breathy, sharp edges carefully hidden under her usual calm tone, but he heard it immediately. "David... can Jacob come to Miami?"

The question was plain on the surface, but the weight behind it was thick enough to suffocate them both. David exhaled through his nose. The code was simple: If Jacob was insisting on traveling? It meant he'd laid his hands on her again.

He didn't ask for details. He never did. "Yes," David said softly, voice as calm as always. "We'll add him to the roster. Private flight manifest only."

There was a long pause. David could hear the faint crackle in her breath, like she was trying to keep herself steady. "Thank you," Martha whispered.

David's tone didn't shift. "Martha... I need you to come to the office before we leave."

She closed her eyes briefly. "Of course."

"I need to assess how bad it is."

Another pause.

"It's not too bad this time," she offered, her voice automatic, rehearsed.

David didn't respond to that. They both knew better. "Come in at eleven. Karen and Julia will meet you."

"Okay."

And just like that, the call ended.

David sat back in his chair for a moment, exhaling slowly. There was no panic. No rage. Just the quiet, calculated acceptance of something they'd handled before. Martha was functioning. And that's what mattered.

Behind him, Julia walked into the office carrying her tablet, already glancing up as she saw David's face. "Jacob?" she asked softly.

David nodded once. Julia didn't blink. Instead, she simply swiped to open Martha's file and whispered: "I'll have Karen prep the team."

The private entrance was already cleared before Martha arrived. No paps. No press. No witnesses. She stepped inside slowly, oversized hoodie zipped up, hood pulled forward, sunglasses masking most of her swollen face. Her breathing was shallow, each step sending a sharp ripple of pain across her ribs, but her posture stayed upright, perfectly trained.

Karen was waiting at the front reception, clipboard in hand. Julia stood just behind her, tablet already open, the girls' travel manifest for Miami blinking softly on the screen.

David remained inside the conference suite, intentionally staying out of sight for now. This part wasn't his role. This was Karen and Julia's job.

"Come on, M," Karen said softly, her tone unusually gentle. "Let's get you inside."

Martha followed them through the pristine white corridors, familiar with the routine. They all were.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The room was bright, sterile. White walls. Soft pink detailing. A tray of makeup palettes and medical supplies lined the counter like two worlds colliding. Martha lowered her hood and slipped off her sunglasses without needing to be asked.

Karen and Julia both inhaled softly, but neither of them flinched. The swelling on her left cheekbone was bad. The cut across her lip was still tender. But the bruising around her right eye was worse, already deepening into shades of violet and angry purple.

Karen gently reached for Martha's chin, tilting her face slightly as she examined the damage. "This one's bad," Karen whispered.

"Top five?" Julia asked quietly, more to confirm than to question.

Karen nodded, keeping her tone even. "Definitely top five."

Martha's voice came quiet. "It's okay."

Julia's eyes flicked toward her. It wasn't okay. But this wasn't the moment for that fight. Karen stepped back, her clinical mask slipping slightly into something more maternal, but still professional. "We're bringing the medic in to check your ribs," she said softly. "Okay?"

Martha nodded once.

Dr. Levinson entered quickly, already briefed. He'd been called for this before. "Morning, Martha," his voice was calm, warm, but edged with familiarity and quiet dread.

"Morning, doc."

He kept his gloves loose, his tone conversational as he gently touched along her rib cage, watching her breathing carefully. "Sharp pain on inhale?"

Martha nodded. He pressed a little lower; her breath hitched sharply. "There." Her voice strained.

He exhaled. "One, possibly two broken. Likely microfractures along the lower right side."

Julia calmly updated the chart on her tablet. "Documented."

Karen glanced up. "Stabiliser?"

"Yes." Dr. Levinson nodded. "We'll bind the ribs, keep her on anti-inflammatories. Pain management will be light to avoid facial bloating. IV cocktail can mask most of it."

"Documented," Julia repeated softly.

This was routine. The three of them worked like clockwork while Martha sat silently, letting them examine her like inventory.

Karen stepped back, folding her arms, her voice soft but sharp. "We'll keep your hair down for Miami."

Julia continued, fingers tapping rapidly across her screen. "Full contour on the orbital swelling. We'll shift focus to your left profile in most of the media shots."

Karen nodded. "Sunglasses anytime you're not actively filming."

Julia sighed softly, "IV drips twice daily. Anti-swelling protocols before fittings. Hydration control through the flight."

Martha exhaled slowly but said nothing.

Karen finally stepped forward again, lowering her voice as she gently touched Martha's shoulder. "This one's bad, sweetheart."

Martha's throat tightened. "It's not the worst."

Julia's jaw clenched slightly. They all knew what that meant. They'd seen worse.

Karen's voice dipped lower, barely above a whisper. "I don't care how bad it is or isn't. He's escalating again."

Martha closed her eyes briefly, whispering automatically. "I'll handle it."

Julia sighed, her voice barely audible. "You always do."

The medic finished binding her ribs carefully beneath her hoodie. "Keep your breathing shallow for now. No heavy lifting. No bending forward if you can avoid it," he instructed gently.

Karen handed Martha a protein shake as Julia finalised the updated Miami schedule. David finally stepped into the doorway, calm, perfectly professional as always. "Everything good?" he asked softly.

Karen answered for all of them. "Fine."

David nodded once, voice steady. "Good. The jet leaves Tuesday morning. We'll handle the rest."

Martha simply whispered, "Thank you."

David finally moved forward, lowering himself into the chair directly across from Martha. Karen remained standing to his left. Julia to his right. The silent perimeter. The machine.

Martha sat with her arms lightly folded across her midsection, protecting the bound ribs beneath her hoodie, breathing carefully, shallow and steady.

David's tone was soft, calm, as always. No judgment. No emotion. Just management. "Alright, M," he began, locking eyes with her, voice low but steady. "Here's what we're going to do."

She didn't respond. She just listened. Because she already knew how this worked.

The plan was already built. 

"The jet will leave Tuesday morning," David said. "Direct to Miami. You'll land Tuesday evening."

Martha nodded faintly.

"You'll have all of Tuesday night to rest. Gigi's suite is prepped if you want to stay with her again."

Karen added softly, "We'll have IVs and drips ready the moment you land."

David continued, voice smooth. "Wednesday will be media prep. The rest of the girls will run their full training cycle as scheduled. You won't be training this weekend."

Martha's relief flickered behind her calm expression. Training would have been impossible.

Julia tapped quietly on her tablet, already inputting the adjustments.

David's voice remained perfectly steady. "Your fittings will be one-on-one. Minimal physical strain. Controlled shoots only."

He paused for half a second, carefully watching her face. "Thursday morning... we'll fly Jacob in."

Her stomach twisted at the words, but her face didn't move.

"He'll be staying through Sunday," David confirmed. "Private hotel access. Separate transport."

Martha swallowed, her voice still soft. "Understood."

David's eyes stayed calm but sharp. "Paul will stay with him inside the paddock," David added. "The entire weekend."

Julia's head lifted briefly to meet Martha's eyes. "He won't be alone with you at the track. Not unless it's cleared first."

Karen finally spoke again, voice still clinical but more protective under the surface. "Paul has full discretion to intervene if necessary."

This was the system's version of protection. Surveillance, not safety.

David leaned forward just slightly, voice lowering. "We can manage him, Martha. But we need you stable."

Martha nodded once. She would stay stable. Like always. The weight of the conversation hung between them all. They weren't talking about bruises. Or broken ribs. Or the risk that grew larger every time Jacob's name entered a flight manifest. They were managing liability.

Karen finally added gently, soft but surgical. "We'll cover everything else."

Martha whispered, "Thank you."

And with that, the plan was locked.

[leclercc16]

F1 x Eurovision

It’s Eurovision week AND race week so naturally this got me thinking about what an F1 Eurovision au would look like (current grid and some honorary mentions):

Alex, George, Lando, Ollie: all victims of the UK sending songs that don’t do well at all. In Alex’s year, he gets the dreaded nil points.

Carlos: public favourite, but not a jury one. Performance definitely includes him topless at some point which goes down very well with the crowd.

Charles: the only Monegasque artist to ever represent Monaco. Plays piano and does a ballad that scores high with the jury but not as well with the public. Loses to Max the year Max wins it. In another year, competes for Italy and comes second again.

Esteban and Pierre: sing a duet that everyone forgets about because they’re more interested in whatever drama they’ve got going on backstage.

Fernando: wins for Spain in the 2000s and is now one of those Eurovision faces that seems to crop up every year.

Franco, Gabriel, Lance, Liam, Yuki: either interval acts or they’re representing a country that they don’t live in to the confusion of the public who don't realise you don't have to be from the country to sing for it.

Isack: some say if France wasn’t part of the big five he wouldn’t have made it to the final, but he’s a hit with the juries and does well overall.

Kimi A: the commentators make jokes that he’s got lost on the way to Junior Eurovision, but he puts in a solid performance and finishes in the top 10.

Lewis: most successful UK entry this century, winning by a landslide. Comes back a few years later but gets beaten by that year’s German entry (Nico R) who he once used to be in a duet with.

Max: wins, absolutely dominating with a high intensity dance hit that’s an instant Eurovision classic. Goes on to have a massive career outside of the competition.

Nico H: has competed at least twice and does terribly each time. Commentators (read: Graham Norton) definitely say something vaguely scathing about it over his postcard.

Oscar: bookie’s favourite. Jack was meant to be Australia’s entry but he got dropped. Oscar’s song is quite understated but the staging is intense and it’s one of those ones that the public latches onto and really loves.

Honorary mentions to Daniel, one of the first Australian entries and a firm fan favourite; Michael, who wins in the 90s and again in the 2000s (his son tries a couple of decades later and pales in comparison); Jenson, the only other UK entry to win this century; Kimi R, whose winning performance is a classic referenced for many years to come; and Sebastian, a well-loved winner who is another artist that seems to haunt the competition even when he's not competing.