loving-this

[loving-this]

Ooohhh myyy gaaaaaaaaadddd. This is sooooooo hahsheidndbekna. Can’t wait for the nex paarrrrttttt. Love this so much!!! 🥵💓💓

The Other Woman

Baby Blues Series - Part 13

Ex!Verstappen x Reader

Masterlist - Baby Blues Masterlist & Playlist

Summary: Max finds out about the pregnancy sooner than he’s meant to (and so does Kelly).

Note: Thank you for your patience, lowkey got a little burnt out while writing this initially and then everything just felt sort of wrong so it felt like so much trial and error. Next part coming soon and it’s smau!

wc 1.8k + text smau

suggested listen: Love in the Dark by Adele

You’d been floating around most of the morning in some sick sort of limbo after messaging Max first thing, knowing he had some time before heading to Australia for the next race. Just a simple ‘we need to talk’ sort of message, there had been an awkward attempt at back and forth from him but it hadn’t been mutual as you simply sent him a date and time, not giving him much of an option or caring about his availability.

You’d seen him briefly in Bahrain as he passed by the McLaren garage, eyes locking on yours before walking away - and there was a moment in a coffee shop pre-season but nothing too full on, nothing proper. A handful of Instagram comments and unopened DM’s was as close as you both had been to each other since the last night.

Daniel had taken the news of the baby surprisingly well and Lando had been supportive despite having no idea what was going on for the most part - everything just seemed so up in the air - despite not wanting to tell Max, not wanting to have to face him, it had to be done.

[click the image to read fully]

It’s like muscle memory, the way you strip the bedsheets to remake the bed, making toast for lunch and then going down to the supermarket. The drive to the clinic isn’t long, it’s one of two options for expectant families in Monaco, choices being to go public or to go private.

Public would be a PR nightmare.

The waiting room smelt sterile, the lights bright and white, a headache threatening to bloom because of it - the lavender-scented disinfectant was too strong and they were trying to mask the clinical coolness with a vanilla wall diffuser that buzzed faintly by the floor.

You sat with your coat half-slid off your shoulders, fingertips nervously twisting against the wood armrest of the uncomfortable chair.

The thought of telling Max about the pregnancy was consuming you, scheduled for Sunday morning so not for a couple of days. You’d been floating around the apartment in quiet since messaging him this morning apart from a few chores, pacing between the sofa and kitchen counter with a glass of ginger tea clasped tightly to your chest that was never sipped even once.

“Mrs Verstappen?”

You flinched at the sound of your old name, still not legally changed because divorces take time enough to be frustrating - not bothering to correct the receptionist as you rose to your feet with a mumbled “yeah, but uhh, not quite. Just Y/N is best.”

The ultrasound room was dim as the scrub-clad brunette led you in, offering a gentle hand to help you up onto the bed as if your belly was a lot bigger and incapacitating than it is. A quiet thank you comes out but you’re too nervous to consider that it had come from you.

You lay back on the narrow bed, the soft crinkle of the tissue paper beneath you sounding unnaturally loud in the sterile quiet of the room. The overhead lights buzzed gently, casting a pale wash over the walls, but you kept your eyes locked on the ceiling - not because there was anything particularly interesting there, but because it was easier than looking at the screen right away. Easier than letting the moment hit you all at once.

Your shirt was folded up to just beneath your ribs, and your leggings pulled low enough to give the sonographer access. The air on your bare skin was cool but not unwelcome as you let out a shaky sigh, the girl offering a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay to be nervous. I understand there’s been complications in the past…”

A flicker of anger possessed you, a foreign discomfort at the thought of Ally as you laid here, gelled and ready - a premature death being the last thing you’d want to consider in this situation for fear of it happening again.

The screen came to life in a wash of grey and white before you could say anything, like a sign that it would all be okay, that history doesn’t have a plan to repeat itself, little movements and shadows until one small flicker caught your eye. The technician stilled her hand, adjusting the angle until the image sharpened. A rhythmic pulse, fast and steady, like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.

“There’s the heartbeat.” The nurse mused softly to herself, her tone shifting - more reverent now and less mechanical. She tilted the monitor so you could see better, giving a reassuring nod. “Nice and strong.”

You didn’t answer, your lips slightly parted, eyes locked on the flickering spot on the screen - a tiny flutter that made everything else around it fall away.

It didn’t feel real, not entirely. Like watching someone else’s life unfold on a screen.

But then the technician pressed a little deeper and the sound kicked in - like a watch ticking. Lub, lub lub, lub, lub lub. A tiny heartbeat, it’s no longer just mother and nurse in the room, but baby too. Max or Daniel not being here suddenly feels okay, a moment comes full circle as you consider Ally, consider the new baby, thoughts rushing through faster than any of the drivers could consider.

You felt your throat close around the emotion, a swell of it rising up so fast you couldn’t catch it in time.

“Everything looks normal,” the nurse offered, pulling you back to the room, back to now. “Would you like a picture?”

You didn’t trust your voice so just nodded, once, your jaw tightening as you blinked hard and looked up at from the screen, tears threatening to slip. It hadn’t registered the first time and you find yourself asking again if it’s healthy, if the baby is okay? She confirms that the baby seems healthy, that she’ll see you again soon, more regularly than other mothers to keep your mind at ease.

She printed the picture off, taking a moment to smile down at the smudgy looking blur of baby before carefully slipping it into a small envelope like it was the most sacred thing, handing it over to you.

You took it with both hands, careful, even though your fingers trembled slightly. For a second, you didn’t do anything with it - just stared at the envelope, heart still beating out of rhythm, vision slightly blurred from the sting behind your eyes that you hadn’t let fully form into tears. The photo tucked neatly away and your fingers gently run over the edge of the paper, protective. You and me little baby, we’ve got this.

The nurse offered a final nod and a gentle “take care” before she opened the door for you.

You stepped out into the narrow hallway, unsure whether to go left or right. The scent of the clinic was stronger out here, the bleach and fake vanilla now almost nauseating, it was early evening but the light streamed in through the large floor to ceiling windows, a dizzying combination that makes your head feel fuzzy and your chest squeeze with a discomfort. 

An unwelcome voice filtered down the hall from the main reception, nasally and frustrated. “Seriously? I need to have an appointment before I go to Australia because I won’t be back until after I’ve been to Japan - this service isn’t acceptable. Don’t you understand?”

The lady behind the desk doesn’t look uncomfortable but it’s clear she’s intimidated by Kelly, who slams her palm down onto the counter and throws the other arm out wildly in annoyance, rolling her eyes and turning away with a scoff, turning right towards you. 

There’s only one reason you’d be here, the same reason that she’s here. Her eyes widen in surprise, she blinks it away rapidly, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, mouth quickly turning into a half-sneer, half-smile, clearly keeping up appearances for any staff that may be in the vicinity like the poor receptionist. 

Her nose turns up and it’s all you can do not to launch yourself at her in a mix of fists and feet, she’s pregnant, you remind yourself, the baby doesn’t deserve that, it deserves far better than what she’ll ever have to offer it. 

She almost looks smug once she’s recovered from the shock. “Does Max know?” Every hair on the back of your neck and arms stands, suddenly charged as if electrified, mouth feeling dry and uncooperative at her words. 

Rather than a glance, with one hand rested beneath the bump she insisted on emphasizing lately, she pivoted towards you now, giving you her entire attention despite it being so unwanted. “Does he know?” She gritted out a second time, challenging you. 

Her gaze dipped downward immediately, and then back up, unflinching. One word, simple and heavy. “No.”

“Maybe you should keep it that way.” Her voice is lowered and her eyes are dark as she takes a small step towards you.

A laugh bubbles up in your throat, bitter and angry.  “Excuse me? And what in the fuck makes you think that you’ve got any say over that?” For a moment you don’t consider the fact that this might not even be Max’s baby, it doesn’t matter right now. “What the actual fuck have you taken that makes you so delusional as to think you’ve got any sort of input over this?”

The smile that followed on her lips didn’t reach her eyes. “You had your chance. He’s moved on. We’re a family now. Penelope, the baby, Max - me.”

There it was. The performance. Delivered with a straight spine and a perfectly practiced breath.

The anger pours from you in waves but you bite your tongue despite the way it kills everything inside of you. A chance? Is that what she thinks happened? That you had a chance with Max and blew it, rather than her stealing him away? 

“Then you shouldn’t feel so threatened when I tell him the news.”

Her face flickered but she gave no response. Nothing verbal. The telltale was the way her jaw set tightly as she looked away, chin jutting out slightly as she tried to maintain the illusion that she was better than you somehow for the staff that were now watching intently from behind the counter and down the hall. 

The hallway seemed smaller as the walk to the exit resumed. Fresh air outside hit hard - brisk, salty, almost enough to shake something loose in the chest. Monaco sparkled in the distance, but it might as well have been a grey blur. Every sense remained tuned to the echo of that hallway, the flicker on the monitor, the sound of a heartbeat that wasn’t just a heartbeat anymore. You were home before you could think of anything other than the echo of footsteps and the beep of pre-natal equipment. 

Baby Blues Taglist 💙

@freyathehuntress @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @onlydeadcells @strawb3heart @raynetargaryan2 @d3kstar @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @mimisweetz @piston-cup @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @gandalfthegoatsblog @a-library-ofmy-own @lando-505 @okdokeygryssel63 @esw1012 @loveitwhenhelies @chaoswithus @dontsupressthejess @ravyn94 @bowielovesyou @mayax2o07 @remussbitch @wolfbc97 @camillyb

[loving-this]

P1 in World History - OP81

Oscar Piastri x Historian!Reader

summary: no one understands how Oscar suddenly dropped facts after facts on the most random historical events

based on this request (by my favorite ever)

liked by mclaren, redbullracing and 1,300,000 others

f1 🎥 Grill the Grid: High School Edition is HERE

Watch our drivers struggle with math problems, historical dates, and chemical reactions 👀

Spoiler alert: we had some surprises.

view all comments:

lando who gave oscar a cheat sheet? be honest

charles_leclerc I would like a rematch with no ancient greek questions please

yukitsunoda0511 I said “napoleon” for everything. Not my fault it worked twice.

mclaren We are also surprised. Very surprised.

redbullracing Gonna have to bring this up to the stewards 🙂‍↔️

fernandoalo_oficial finally, someone knows I was there when Caesar was stabbed

alex_albon me watching oscar answer every history and geography question with his arms crossed like he’s on who wants to be a millionaire😭

user bro oscar even corrected the quizmaster once. is he ok?

user oscar casually dropping historical facts like it’s not suspicious at all…

user i'm so glad they are f1 drivers and not doctors or something

user why did oscar answer all of that without blinking? i’m scared 💀

user nah bc that man answered “Battle of Waterloo” like it was a pop quiz at dinner. WHO ARE YOU 😩

user oscar's not real. he’s a government experiment gone rogue

user the way he SMIRKED when he got the Cold War question right?? sir who are you trying to impress 😭😭😭

user idk if i want to kiss oscar or force him to write my next essay

user charles i expected more from you

user no but Lando getting the math question was so sweet

user when max said “well technically…” I felt that in my bones.

> user he maxplained that whole video and still lost

> maxverstappen1 I want a rematch

Oscar Piastri just added to his Instagram Story

"Great read 👍"

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, mclaren and 757,000 others

SkySportsF1 🎤 Oscar Piastri revealed or us the secret behind all his world history knowledge:

“It just sort of happens when you date a historian. Everything becomes a lesson. She once paused a movie to explain Dutch colonialism.”

View all comments:

user not me googling “how to become a historian”

user she paused a movie to explain Dutch colonialism and he STAYED??? yeah he’s in love your honor

user no bc i’d explain imperialism mid-makeout if he asked 😭

user that household must be insufferable

user I too wanna monologue to Oscar during breakfast

user imagine pausing a movie to rant about colonialism and he looks at you like it’s the hottest thing ever? god i’m weak

user and he LISTENED??? he RECALLS the info??

user she taught him centuries of world history and what did he give her back? driving lessons?

user “everything becomes a lesson” sir that is the dream 😭 i want to analyze the French Revolution over dinner too

user this is what happens when you date a girl who annotates books and knows who Franz Ferdinand is

user i want what they have. and by that i mean him. and also her brain. pls.

lando so you’re telling me i lost to oscar in Grill the Grid bc his gf is smarter than everyone at McLaren combined?

> oscarpiastri: you lost because you said Napoleon invented the calendar > yourusername: to be fair… he did change the calendar. you were just off by a few emperors > lando: OH MY GOD SHE’S HERE I’M SORRY PLEASE DON’T QUIZ ME

alex_albon oscarpiastri she paused a movie to explain colonialism and you didn’t RUN? bro you’re in deep

> oscarpiastri: i stayed. i took notes. there was a powerpoint. > yourusername: in my defense, it was really bad colonialism. like offensively inaccurate. > user: i am obsessed with the fact that she said “bad colonialism” like it’s a genre of film > user: alex is 100% pretending he gets this rn

georgerussell63 I want to add to the conversation that just 5 minutes ago during a chat this man casually cited the Meiji Restoration.

danielricciardo nah bc when she paused the movie he just sat there?? with his mouth shut?? couldn’t be me 💀

> yourusername he nodded. he asked questions. it was adorable. > danielricciardo stop you’re going to make the rest of us look bad

mclaren Confirmed: Oscar is now banned from date night and team trivia. Unfair advantage.

user WHY IS SHE SO CASUAL IN THE COMMENTS I’D DIE

> user she’s literally explaining history and being hot about it > user no bc she called it “bad colonialism” and suddenly I need a PhD >user someone make a TikTok of her best comments, we’re documenting greatness in real time

charles_leclerc If my girlfriend taught me history i’d listen too 🥺

> alexandrasaintmleux you can't even tell me who painted the Mona Lisa > charles_leclerc I said "history" 🙄

user do you think Ferrari can hire her to do something?

> user omg what would she even do there? > user anything is better than what they have ❤️ liked by charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, lando, mclaren and 2,400,000 others

oscarpiastri Turns out there are so many good museums in England Also I now know what mercantilism is now.

view all comments

lando i want her to quiz me

charles_leclerc I refuse to learn, but i’m proud of you

georgerussell63 do you think she tutors for fun?? asking for me

alex_albon you’re literally a walking historical source

danielricciardo please ask her to explain the entire French Revolution to me in meme format

maxverstappen1 you scare me but i respect it

user THEY ARE TOURING HISTORICAL LOCATIONS 🥹🥹🥹🥹

user i know he’s got a napoleon bobblehead

user dating a historian and surviving is proof he’s the chosen one

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff, mclaren and 8,150 others

yourusername He said “teach me everything” and now he can name every Cold War proxy war. Proud of my little historian-in-training. Also yes, he scored higher than some of my students on the practice quiz.📚💋

view all comments

oscarpiastri Cold War was a vibe

georgerussell63 okay but she’s intimidating in a hot way

> oscarpiastri don’t call my girlfriend hot. LEAVE. > georgerussell63 it was a compliment 😅😅😅

charles_leclerc imagine being forced to learn at dinner 😔

lando can she explain the space race to me using memes and finger puppets

> oscarpiastri are you 2??

user “cold war was a vibe” i’m IN TEARS

user she’s not just teaching him history. she’s giving him range

user whatever taylor swift said about you know how to ball i know aristotle

user i would risk it all for her to yell about the ottoman empire in my kitchen

hattiepiastri just watched him explain the industrial revolution like it was a bedtime story

kimiantonelli who even knows what happened in 1848????

> user aren’t you supposed to be learning that in school?

user is this a kink thing?

user dating a historian sounds like a trap. a sexy, educational trap.

maxverstappen1 can you prepare me for the next grill the grid?

> yourusername sure thing!! > oscarpiastri NO

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and 1,450,000 others

mclaren Study season. Quiz night prep. We no longer know if this is for history or Hungary GP. 🧠🏁📚

view all comments

oscarpiastri she just asked me to rank my favorite Enlightenment philosophers. it’s 10pm. i said Kant and she said “incorrect.”

> yourusername it was a trick question. you were supposed to say “you, darling” > oscarpiastri i’m logging off before I get in trouble > user I NEED THEM TO ADOPT ME

lando does this mean i can’t cheat???

> oscarpiastri she said next time you cheat off me she’s quizzing you on Byzantine trade routes > lando nevermind i’m studying. i’m SCARED.

yourusername Quiz night winner gets free coffee. Loser gets a 20-minute lecture on the French Revolution.

> mclaren we are printing flashcards as we speak

alex_albon imagine prepping for Hungary and getting hit with “define the Treaty of Utrecht” over breakfast

> oscarpiastri: she did that. literally. it was before coffee.

charles_leclerc what’s happening? Why is everyone smarter now.

> georgerussell63 she’s infecting the grid with knowledge. we’re not safe > fernandoalo_oficial finally.

user this is the power of a woman who annotates books and kisses you mid-lecture

user can’t wait until one of them starts mixing up tire degradation with the fall of the Ottoman Empire

[loving-this]

Vogue Beauty Secrets

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

Summary… Vogue invites Y/N Leclerc to film her beauty routine, but between breastfeeding, toddlers barging in, and a very attentive husband named Charles, it becomes the internet’s favorite accidental family vlog.

A/N: This was so much fun to write. Thank you for the support.

Comment to be added to the tag list 🫶 Reblog if Charles in lip gloss healed you 💋 Requests open!

Donate a matcha?!

Like, Comment, Reblog, Enjoy!! - 💋

⋆｡˚☁︎˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Sophie was not emotionally prepared for what awaited her in the new Vogue Beauty Secrets video.

She had expected skincare tips and light glam. Maybe a glimpse of the Leclerc home in Monaco. What she got instead? Full-blown domestic intimacy and the softest glimpse into Charles Leclerc’s family life that had her immediately texting her group chat in all caps.

The video starts with a soft click of a camera. Then, a yawn.

“Hi, Vogue,” Y/N greets, bleary-eyed but smiling, her voice raspy from sleep. “I’m Y/N Leclerc. It’s 6:42 a.m., I haven’t had coffee, and I have approximately six minutes before someone needs me, so let’s go.”

She’s in a silky ivory robe, hair loosely twisted up, bare-faced but still radiant. The Monaco morning light spills in through tall windows, and behind her, their bathroom is sleek and softly lit, complete with pampas grass, glowy wall sconces, and a tiny pink toothbrush on the counter.

“So, I start my routine with cold water to fake looking awake,” she says, splashing her face. “This cleanser is my holy grail. Saved me from pregnancy acne, postpartum dry skin, and whatever hormonal situation is happening now.”

Just as she starts patting her face dry, a high-pitched wail breaks through the audio.

Y/N sighs, already smiling. “Hold on.”

The camera stays rolling as she walks out of frame. A minute later, she returns with a sleepy, whimpering baby girl snuggled into her chest and latched under her robe, suckling quietly.

“This is Amélie,” Y/N explains with a gentle bounce. “She woke up from a nightmare. Or gas. Or because the moon shifted slightly. Who knows.”

She reaches for her toner with one hand. “We multitask in this house.”

From the hallway, there’s the unmistakable sound of tiny feet running and then,

“MAMAN! Maxime threw the car in the toilet!”

Y/N freezes mid-serum. “Of course he did.”

Seconds later, Charles appears in the doorway in a plain white tee and black boxers, holding their son Maxime upside down like a sack of potatoes while their other son, Luca, trails behind looking scandalized.

“We’re resolving a Formula 1 incident in the bathroom,” Charles says, grinning at the camera. “Luca’s the steward. Maxime is currently being investigated for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

“Did you retrieve the car?” Y/N asks.

Charles shrugs. “No comment.”

He presses a kiss to her temple, checks on Amélie with soft eyes, then scoops up both boys with ease. “We’ll be back. Maybe.”

As he disappears, Y/N turns back to the camera with a laugh. “As you can tell, I live with four Leclercs. And none of them understand volume control.”

She continues her routine: moisturizer, under-eye cream, a little face oil, occasionally pausing to adjust Amélie’s head or sip coffee that mysteriously appears beside her.

Y/N narrows her eyes toward the door. “He always does this. Drops off coffee like a skincare fairy.”

There’s a beat.

Then Charles reappears with Leo, their dog, trailing behind him and immediately curling up at Y/N’s feet.

Charles grins, now shirtless and balancing Luca on one hip, Maxime hanging from his back like a little koala.

“Thought you needed a refill.”

Y/N lifts her brows. “You mean a refill of chaos?”

He kisses her cheek again. “Always.”

She rolls her eyes fondly. “I’m going to try to do mascara. Let’s see how this goes with a baby attached to me and a toddler kicking a soccer ball off the bidet.”

The camera captures her reflection in the mirror, her swiping mascara with practiced precision while Amélie dozes, Charles wrangling twins in the background, Leo curled up protectively beneath her. Somehow it feels… cinematic. Like watching a memory unfold.

She reaches for her blush and hears,

“Maman, I want the pink lips too!” Maxime shouts, bolting into the room again with one of her glosses in hand.

Charles walks in, sheepish. “He stole it. I tried.”

Y/N gestures to the camera. “Well. Raw and real, right Vogue?”

She lifts Maxime onto the counter, dabs a bit of gloss on his lips, and hands the wand to Charles with a teasing smirk. “Your turn.”

Charles blinks. “I thought this was your video.”

“Your lips are dry. Don’t embarrass the family.”

The camera catches Charles puckering obediently, Y/N laughing as she applies the gloss while holding Amélie in place.

Sophie can’t believe she’s witnessing this. Charles Leclerc in a lip gloss application tutorial. Shirtless. Surrounded by three kids and a dog. Whispering something soft in French to his daughter, whose little fist is tangled in his necklace.

“I swear by this nipple cream,” Y/N adds, completely unbothered. “For any of you breastfeeding, it’s a life saver. Charles applies it for me when I’m too tired.”

“I do?” he calls from the hallway.

“You do now,” she calls back.

She finishes her makeup with one hand, blush, a bit of highlighter, tinted lip oil.

“And that’s it,” she smiles. “That’s my five-minute face for school drop-offs, F1 events, or just chasing the dog through the garden while holding a crying baby.”

Charles reappears once more, now with Amélie peacefully burping over his shoulder, the twins playing with Lego on the rug behind him.

He leans into the frame. “She forgot the most important product.”

Y/N blinks. “I did?”

Charles kisses her cheek. “Confidence. And a little gloss.”

Sophie feels like her heart’s going to explode.

The screen fades just as Maxime announces, “Papa tooted,” and chaos erupts behind them.

Y/N blows a kiss to the camera.

“Thanks, Vogue. Come back when we’ve slept for more than three hours.”

Fade to black.

—

The end...

Taglist:

@devilacot @angelluv16 @angstynasty @hisashifrey @mynameisangeloflife @evalynkillgrave @lorena-mv33 @frenchtwistedd @baechugff

[loving-this]

Hiii!! I was wondering if you can write a joaquin torres x reader enemies to lovers? Thank uu

Under Your Skin | Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: an afternoon of training takes a turn for the infuriating when you are partnered with Joaquin… but maybe he’s not as bad as you think

Warnings: fighting, angst, nakedness (no smut), kissing

Word Count: don’t know, a couple thousand, I wrote this in app

A/N: this turned into something. Hope people enjoy.

“Kahn you’re with Bishop. Chavez, Williams. Y/L/N, Torres!”

“Uh no! Not happening!” you called out indignantly, refusing to even look at the man Sam had partnered you with for these drills.

“Why? What the problem Y/N worried I’ll beat you?” Joaquin jibed.

“No,” you turned your head to look at him disdainfully as the others left the three of you and began to spar with one another. “I’m worried I’ll kill you?” you gritted.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned playfully, “I won’t let you.” You rolled your eyes as his words worked to irritate you more.

Joaquin was always so peppy and he ALWAYS had something to say and you were so over it.

“Oh I’m gonna try,” you said stepping forward, your fingers curled up into fists ready to lunge just as Sam stepped between you two.

“Alright. ENOUGH!” he stressed and you reluctantly backed down. “Now you’re supposed to be a team. So act like one. You think me and Bucky used to get along?” he asked the two of you, but neither of you would look at him or each other, let alone answer. “NO!” he stressed again. “But did we try to work together because we were on the same team?” There was another painful pause as he waited for either of you to answer. “Yes!” he said, finally answering the question himself. “Now whether you like it or not, you’re teammates, so you better start finding a way to work together. Or else it could be everybody else’s ass that’s on the line,” he affirmed, before he walked away, encouraging you both to work this out between you like adults.

Joaquin folded his arms and swayed back and forth as he watched Sam leave you to it. “Soooo, are we doing this or?”

You let out a deep sigh as you rolled your eyes yet again at your situation, slowly resigning yourself to it, before you stepped forward, reaching for his arm. You seized the opportunity, using his brief moment of unpreparedness to flip him over your shoulder and onto his back.

He let out a grunt as he went down onto the mat with a loud thud, a quick look of confusion washing over his face as he reoriented himself. “Okay, if that’s how it’s gonna be.” he grunted before reaching out for your arm, his ankles tucking behind yours to pull you down to the floor with him before he rolled himself over you to pin you in place.

You sneered as you adjusted your other arm to reach for his wrist, forcing it out the way to alleviate the pressure on your chest and give you enough wiggle room to fight back. You brought your legs up crossing them over his chest, his arms tucked in tight to disarm him and rolled you both so you were back on top and sitting on his chest.

“Ready to submit pretty boy.” you asked him as you used your whole body weight to push him back down into the training mat.

“Nope,” he grunted, “but it’s nice to know you think I’m pretty.” he said, flashing you his signature pearly white grin.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t need to.” he grunted again before he bucked his whole body and you had to do a forward roll over his head so you didn’t smash your face into the floor as the two of you became disconnected.

You both quickly got back to your feet, your chests heaving with the exertion of the tussle. As you took him in, all golden muscles and shiny teeth, you really wanted to smack the smug look off of his face.

“Come on then, Firecracker, that all you got,” he taunted.

“Don’t call me that!” you gritted at him through your teeth before you charged at him. You took a run and jump in order to get some leverage, climbing up his body before swinging your whole weight around the back of his neck and down, forcing him into a roll again, his back slamming down onto the mat as he was laid out. You quickly rolled off of him, reaching for his arm before manipulating him onto his front and pulling his arm up behind him as you pinned his chest to the ground.

“Uhhhgg, seriously,” he grunted into the mat, “what did I do to make you hate me so much.” You didn’t have an answer for him.

Technically Joaquin had never really done anything it was just his energy that tended to rub you up the wrong way. If you were a black cat, he was a golden retriever. He was high energy and happy and in everybody else’s business. You would rather stay in your own energy and keep to yourself and absolutely left alone. He found a way to make a joke out of everything. It never felt like he took anything serious and you always felt like the butt of his jokes. The easy prey. Little nicknames or backwards references to the others about your moody demeanour. And that was all before you added his suck up mentality with Wilson. ‘Mr all oooh I’m the new Falcon. I’m best buds with Captain America.’ Barf.

“No? Not got answer for that?” he grumbled into the mat as you pushed his face further into it, willing him to actually stay quiet for once. But it was no use. “Fine.” he mumbled before he once again rolled his body to buck you off. You both rolled, once- twice- until he had you well and truly pinned to the floor. He was sat so high up on your chest you could neither move your arms or legs. You were completely at his mercy.

“See here’s the thing,” he continued while he had you trapped. His captive audience. “I don’t think you hate me at all. I think, you secretly like me and I’m so far away from everything you expect to like, so you do everything you can to put me down or push me away. It’s easier to pretend you hate me, than to admit to everyone else that I’m under your skin,” he taunted as your wriggled beneath him, trying desperately to get free, but failing miserably.

“You wish. No wonder they made you the Falcon with that bird brain of yours.” you taunted back.

“Go on, keep being mean to me. See what happens.”

“Uhhhgg get off me,” you groaned, his weight pushing into your chest. There were rules about not using your abilities in combat training to make it fair on the opponents who didn’t have abilities, but you were almost at the end of your tether and you weren’t above burning his arrogant ass.

You knew he could feel your skin beginning to heat up beneath his thighs as a warning, but still he didn’t relent.

“Oh come on now. Just admit it. I’m under your skin.” he retorted.

You groaned and struggled again to be free as his thighs began to squeeze the tops of your arms harder.

“Admit it!”

“FINE!” you finally shouted at him. “YOU’RE UNDER MY SKIN! Are you happy now! Now get the fuck off me!”

As you both got up off the floor, you finally noticed all eyes had been on your little scrap. It was the final straw. You felt like something under a fucking microscope. “You know what,” you huffed brushing yourself off. “Fuck this.” you muttered before walk out the training room, wanting to go on a run around the grounds on your own to clear your head.

Who the fuck did he think he was anyway? You had been working with the Avengers longer than all of them. You were friends with Captain America long before Sam took up the mantle. You trained with Natasha. They had never even met her.

Your lungs began to burn as you headed towards the trees, your legs and arms pumping harder, your focus determined as you followed the trail you always ran. The leaves and twigs crunched under your feet with every thundering step you took, but the further you went, the better you felt. You had always worked better alone. There was no one else to second guess you or undermine your decisions or get in your way. No one to talk your ears off and distract you from your mission. No one you felt you had to keep an eye on. You only needed to worry about yourself getting in and out.

You did three laps of the campus before you finally called it a day, figuring it would have been long enough for everyone to have finished their sessions and cleared out so you could hit the showers in peace.

As you made your way through the training gym and back to the locker room, all seemed quiet and you breathed a sigh of relief. Left all alone you wasted no time in stripping off. You grabbed yourself a fresh towel and headed towards the showers in the back. Completely empty, just how you liked it. No chatting. No team bonding. Just you and the calming sounds of the running water.

You always ran hot due to your powers and having a nice cool shower was the best way to regulate you and refresh. You knew that fire that ran through your veins often escalated things for you. Knew it made you a little more hot headed than most. Sure you knew you had made a bit of a scene back there, but that’s just who you were and Joaquin knew that. Which is why he found it so easy to push your buttons.

“Just admit it, you’re just jealous of me.” his voice came out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of you. You quickly pulled part of the shower curtain back to see him stood just outside your cubicle with his back to the wall.

“What the? Where the fuck did you come from?” You spat at him, then a realisation popped into your head. “Were you spying on me? Just waiting for me to walk in here so you could see me naked?!”

“Shit! No- that’s-“ he began to mumble, his eyes growing wide as he realised how this suddenly all looked. “I didn’t mean- but yes I did- but.”

You raised your eyebrows at him incredulously. “Oh my god! You have got to be kidding me.”

“I just. I wanted us to talk. To work this out.” he said.

“So you thought you’d wait until I was naked in the shower to do it!”

“I’m sorry, I just. Sam is right,” he tried to defend himself. “We are on the same team and we need to be able to work together.”

“Oh my god! You’re such a kiss ass Joaquin!”

“Yeah! And you’re a stubborn fucking princess who doesn’t know when to quit the bullshit!” he snapped.

You took a step back. You were stunned silent by his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I’m not taking it back.” he said doubling down.

“I didn’t ask you to.” you snapped back.

There was a pause before he said, “Well what do we do now.”

You thought a moment. This was all getting so out of hand again. Gods, you just wanted to have a moment and cool off, instead you felt hotter than ever. You were so infuriated by him. What made him think this was a clever idea?

“Strip off.” You finally said an idea of your own coming to mind.

“What?” he asked stunned.

“You heard me Torres, strip off. You’ve seen me naked, only fair I get a glance back.”

He paused as he thought a moment, trying to work out if you were serious or trying to psych him out and scare him off. And to be fair, you weren’t sure if you were either. You’d seen him in his gym wear. Felt his muscles when he was fighting. You had a fairly good idea what he was packing under his clothes- but did you really want to pull on this string and have the full package burnt into the recesses of your mind.

“Fine.” he eventually relented, his fingers immediately reaching for the hem of his shirt before either of you could back down. He figured, worst comes to worst, hopefully this would be a good trust/bonding exercise. “But-“ he continued as he began to reach for the waistband of his shorts, “I do this, you have to pull the curtain back so I can look properly too. Deal?” he said, reaching out for one of your hands still clutching desperately to the wet shower curtain.

You paused to rethink this through as you stared at his outstretched hand. It was clear from the look in his eyes he was deadly serious and up for this exchange and you could feel that stubbornness prickling at the back of your neck. You knew you would never be able to live with yourself if you let him psych you out and get the upper hand now. Before you knew it, you were reaching out to shake his hand.

“Alright then,” he relented. His right hand moved back to join his left around his waistband and he dropped his shorts just as you let go of the shower curtain.

Oh shit, you thought to yourself as you finally took him in in all his naked glory. He was gorgeous. Toned all the way from the tops of his shoulders, all the way down to the backs of his calves. As your eyes trailed back up his body and met his, you saw the same look of trepidation reflected back at you. What had you both done? You didn’t know what to do now. You were so in over your head with this guy. But one thing was for sure, you couldn’t deny anymore he was well and truly under your skin in more ways than you’d have originally liked to admit.

He tentatively took a step forward, kicking his feet out of his sliders and discarded shorts. “Woah, what are you doing?” You defensively asked, immediately taking a step further back into the shower.

“Sorry-“ he said quickly coming to a stop. “I just thought. The way you were looking at me. I just-“

“You just what?” you said hesitantly, but although you were still on your guard, your body relaxed to match his cool and calm demeanour.

“I just thought that you wanted… never mind,” he said taking a step back. But as he began to step away from you again, you found yourself stepping forward to chase him. Stop him.

“No,” you said softly, needing to hear what he had to say. “Tell me.”

“I just thought,” he said, rubbing his hand through his hair, “I thought for second you finally wanted me back.”

“What?!” you said stunned. Wanted him back?

“Everything I said earlier…” he said, struggling to meet your eyes and you self consciously began to move your arms of your body to try and cover your modesty a little more while you had this, now, seemingly more serious conversation. He sighed, “Look I was projecting my feelings onto you and I’m sorry, okay? Truth is, you’re the one under my skin. I look for you when I enter every room. I live to see those rare moments when you actually smile. I fucking love it when you toss me around like I’m fucking nothing. Do you know how impressive that is?” he confessed with a half toothy smile.

“I’m the one who’s fucking jealous. You’ve worked with so many of the greats, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton- Rogers, even. I just, I wanted you to at least think I was on your level. I’m sorry if that came off in the wrong way. I never meant to make you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you quickly corrected him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think you’ve got way too much energy and pep for a guy who’s been in the service and seen way too much shit. I think you crack way too many jokes at inappropriate times. And your fangirling…” you let your words trail off as you pulled a face to let him know how awkward you found that at times, but you quickly softened your features again. “But I don’t hate you Joaquin.” You reaffirmed.

“But you don’t like me like that.” he quickly surmised and your bristled. It was subconscious and caught you off guard, your body naturally reacting to the statement before your mind had even processed what it would mean. You had never even allowed yourself to ask the question before. He may have been projecting when he said what he had said before, but you realised he had also been right. And then it hit you. All this time you had been having a crush on him, you just hadn’t realised that that was what you were feeling.

He hesitated as he watched you silently process those thoughts. His eyes watching every move of your face and body with precision. Slowly he stepped forward again to test the waters and this time you didn’t step back.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want me to do this.” he said, but you didn’t tell him to stop.

His hand lifted to reach out to softly cup your cheek. Your eyes searched his, trying to work out if this was really happening. You took a single steadying step back into the shower but you still didn’t tell him to stop and before you knew it, you were both stood under the cooling spray, but neither one of you pulled away.

“Joaquin,” you quietly breathed into his ever nearing lips.

“I know,” is all he said, before his mouth was finally on yours.

It was everything you never knew you needed. His fingers moving from your cheek to behind your head to pull you in closer to him and your hands reached out and instantly melted against his chest. His kiss was both gentle and hungry. Sweet but desperate and everything you had ever wanted. You sighed into him as he deepened the kiss and before you knew it, neither one of you knew why you had been fighting in the first place anymore.

You broke the kiss to take a deep steadying breath and meet his gaze before you could allow yourself to get too lost in it.

“Was that okay?” he quickly asked for reassurance.

“Yes,” you softly replied as you nodded your head.

“Can I do it again?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied once more and as he connected his lips to yours once again, you realised Joaquin Torres was definitely, most well and truly, under your skin.

[loving-this]

💓

FaceTime | Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: long distance is hard sometimes

Warnings: long distance relationships, fluff, flirting

A/N: just a quick one before bed. I haven’t done one of these in a while. I’m not too happy with the ending, but I want to go to sleep and also keep this short. Enjoy!

You had only just gotten out of the shower when he called. He always tried to call when he got a moment in the evenings. Sometimes it was earlier when you were having your dinner. Other times it was really late and you were already in bed. But he always made the effort. Sometimes the calls were long and sometimes they were short, but you always cherished every second you got to see his face and hear his voice.

“Hey,” he said, the second you picked up.

“Hey,” you said a little breathless from the way you had raced back down the hall from the bathroom to reach your phone in time.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he took in your damp hair and bare shoulders in the frame of the camera.

“Yeah,” you said, sitting on the side of your bed and breathing deeply, still trying to regulate your breaths, “I just got out of the shower. Thought I was gonna miss your call.”

You watched as his eyebrows raised interestedly. “Really now?” he asked with that breathy enthusiasm he had when he was feeling flirty.

“Yes,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. He was so predictable.

“So you’re not wearing anything right now?” he pressed.

“Joaquin!” You whined, unimpressed.

“What!?” he exclaimed honestly and you rolled your eyes again.

“Where are you right now?” You asked him, trying to change the subject. It looked like he was in the back of a car.

“Travelling back to my hotel for the night,” he said, before his hand rubbed at his face. It was clear from the dark circles under his eyes he was tired. His job was pretty exhausting after all, but he always claimed it was because he didn’t sleep as well without you.

“What time is it where you are?” you asked him.

“Late,” he replied before he switched the hand he was holding his phone with to check his watch. “Ah shit,” he sighed, “I still haven’t changed this,” he muttered to himself.

“Why not just check the corner of your phone?” you asked him.

“Now I knew I wasn’t just dating you for your pretty face,” he joked as you saw his eyes glance up to the time on his phone.

“Oh I that’s good to know. I had thought it was solely because I look good on your arm when you get invited to the White House.”

“But you do,” he frowned, before he quickly realised you were joking and a smile broke out on his face.

“Damn fly boy, you really are tired,” you noted and as if on cue he began to yawn. “Don’t yawn, you’ll set me off,” you chastised him, but it was already too late, as you felt one creeping into the corners of your jaw. He let out a little laugh when you succumbed.

“How long til you get to your hotel?” you asked him.

Instead of looking forward towards the drivers satnav, you watched as his eyes moved to look out the window instead. “Not far now,” he said. “Maybe another couple of minutes.”

Your brow furrowed as you thought on that. Clearly he was somewhere he knew well if he could work out how far away he was just by his surroundings.

“Where did you say you were again?” you asked him, suddenly feeling suspicious.

“We just stopped off in Philly for a night,” he said, but the way his mouth twitched slightly like he was rolling his tongue awkwardly behind his teeth, made you feel like he was lying. “How was work today?” he quickly asked, changing the subject.

“It was fine, same old same old,” you said, still thinking over his demeanour as you attempted to talk normally. “The AC broke though so I was a sweaty mess for most of the day.”

“Mmmm tasty,” he said.

“Uhhh that so gross.”

“Says the woman who loves when I come home all sweaty from the gym.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?” he chuckled.

“It’s not like I lick your sweat or anything. I just like the way your skin glistens.” you tried to defend yourself.

“Yeah, yeah,” he joked before you saw his gaze shift back out the window again. When his gaze turned back to you, you could have sworn he was trying to hide a smile.

“What is up with you this evening?” you asked him.

“Nothing,” he tried to defend himself, but he couldn’t help but let out a breathy smug chuckle.

“You’re up to something. You can’t hide shit from me Torres. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he grinned. “I’m doing nothing,” he insisted. “I’m just really excited about climbing into bed after a long day.

“Bullshit,” you said as he let out a shit eating grin.

“I am!” he insisted, but when he saw the concerned look on your face he caved. “Fine,” he sighed. “Go to the window.”

“What?” your frowned.

“Go to the window,” he said again.

You rolled your eyes but did as you were told. When you pulled back the curtain you almost dropped your phone in shock. Outside was a black limousine and Joaquin was climbing out of the back of it.

“Shut up!” you exclaimed. You heard him chuckle through the phone. “SHUT UP!” you squealed louder, lifting your phone back up to your face, simultaneously looking from him on the call to him out the window.

“You still in that towel?” he joked as you watched him practically jog across the lawn to your front door, his duffel bag and a bouquet of flowers clenched in his hand.

“Yes,” you said, a shit eating grin on your face.

“Not for long you won’t be,” he said before he hung up the call.

A second later you heard his key in the door and you raced down the stairs and straight into his arms. That was the best FaceTime call ever.

[loving-this]

Title: "Catch Me"

Characters: Joaquin Torres x Reader

(Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes mentioned)

Warnings: Kidnapping, blood, guns… uhh yk the works..

Summary: She’s kidnapped in the middle of the night and used as bait to distract Sam, Bucky, and Joaquin, she’s beaten and pushed off a skyscraper. Joaquin dives after her without hesitation, catching her just in time. Bloodied and barely conscious, she finally lets her guard down in his arms, and for the first time, he sees just how much she’s been holding in — and how much she means to him.

She was gone.

No note. No trace.

No blood in the apartment, no signs of a fight — which made it worse. She wouldn’t have gone down without one.

Her comms were dead. She hadn’t checked in. Not once. And when Joaquin stepped into her empty living room at 2 a.m. — coffee in hand, ready to bug her about the latest encryption issue — the silence hit him like a bullet.

He didn’t even have to say it.

Sam’s jaw clenched. Bucky muttered, “Shit.” and grabbed his gear.

Then the message came through.

One of their safe lines. An old Hydra ping, encrypted to hell — but the point was clear.

"We have her."

They were using her to distract them. Lure them. Keep them busy while the real plan unfolded.

She was bait.

It was the rooftop of an unfinished skyscraper. Thirty-five stories above the city, lit by floodlights and wind and chaos.

Joaquin saw her first.

She was on her knees near the edge, arms bound behind her back. Blood on her face. Her lip split, one eye swollen shut. Her body shook like it was barely holding itself together. Her head was down — like she couldn’t even lift it anymore.

"There." Joaquin said, breaking into a sprint. "She’s right there—"

A sharp shout stopped him.

"Move and she falls!"

A man stood behind her. Another stood on a scaffolding beam, gun aimed at Joaquin. The rest — maybe four or five more — scattered around the rooftop, watching like it was a show… Like it was some kind of display.

"She didn’t want to talk." the man behind her sneered. "Not about Sam. Not about Barnes. Not even you, bird-boy. Tough little thing."

Her head lifted — just barely — and when Joaquin saw her eyes, he stopped breathing.

There was blood in her hair. Her cheek was split. But the look in her eyes…

It begged…

Not for help.

For him not to come closer…

He ignored it.

"Let her go." Joaquin said, voice low, shaking with fury. "You got what you wanted. We’re here."

"You don’t get it." the man said. "You’re not meant to save her. You’re meant to watch."

And just like that — he shoved her.

Joaquin dove before he could even think.. it was instinct..

His wings exploded out as he jumped over the edge, wind howling, eyes locked on her falling form.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t thrash. Maybe she was too weak. Maybe she thought this was it.

Joaquin’s arms closed around her with seconds to spare.

The impact of catching her sent pain screaming through his back, his wings fighting gravity as hard as they could. They smashed into a rooftop several stories below, tumbling hard — but alive.

Alive.

He landed first, taking the worst of the fall.

She landed in his arms — limp, bloodied, barely conscious.

"Hey, hey—" Joaquin pushed her hair back from her face, trying to keep his voice steady. "Stay with me, okay? I got you. I got you."

Her lashes fluttered. She blinked up at him, dazed.

"You’re… dumb.." she rasped. "Should’ve let me fall."

He let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "Yeah, well. That’s not really my style."

Her hand twitched against his chest. Not grabbing. Just touching. Grounding herself.

"I didn’t talk…" she whispered. "Not once. Not even when they—" She winced, breath hitching. "—not even when they cut me."

"I know." Joaquin whispered. "I know you didn’t. You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met."

"…still hurts." she mumbled, and for once — just once — her voice cracked.

"I know, cariño. I know." He pressed his forehead to hers, shielding her with his body as the rest of the team closed in. "But you’re safe now."

She didn’t reply.

Her fingers curled in his shirt, barely holding on.

And he held her like the world could fall again, and he’d still catch her…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this little fic! Also don’t worry guys! I’m still working on my other fic of Bucky! Part 4 is coming out later on today! I thought I should write a Joaquin fic since there’s barely any out there! And maybe give you guys something to read while I continue writing my Bucky fic! Anyways thank you for reading! 🤍☺️

[loving-this]

Edge of Everything

joaquin torres x fem!witch!reader

You don’t know who picked the movie, but it’s been playing for an hour and you haven’t processed a single frame of it. You’re sitting on one end of the couch, legs curled under you, a blanket thrown lazily across your lap.

Joaquin’s on the other side. Or, at least, he was.

At some point—somewhere between your third eye-roll and your fifth shared laugh—he’d ended up a lot closer.

Now his thigh is flush against yours. Warm. Steady. Comforting.

His arm is resting across the back of the couch. Not quite touching you. Just… there. The kind of closeness that feels accidental but you know damn well isn’t. His fingers graze your shoulder whenever he shifts. And he shifts a lot.

You pretend not to notice.

Your eyes flick to the TV. Some romantic subplot’s unfolding—two characters slow dancing in the rain. You feel Joaquin glance at you.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” he says under his breath.

“What?”

“The dramatic magic-wielding heroine. Only you’d bring someone back to life and scold them for making you do it.”

You snort.

“Please. You’d be the one making out with someone on a rooftop in a thunderstorm like it’s a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

He grins. Shrugs. Doesn’t deny it.

“Not denying it,” he says. “I’d make it look good.”

He reaches for the popcorn bowl in your lap. His fingers brush yours. Neither of you move.

You clear your throat. Look away.

The silence stretches—comfortable and unbearable all at once.

Then Sam walks in and stops in his tracks.

He stares for a long moment, arms crossed, head tilted like he’s tired.

“You two…”

“What?” you ask, too quickly.

“Nothing. Just—at this point, I’m assuming you share a toothbrush.”

Joaquin gives him a lazy smile.

“Only when she’s out of toothpaste.”

You elbow him hard. He huffs out a laugh, grabs his chest dramatically like you broke something.

“We’re not a thing,” you mutter, but even you hear how thin it sounds.

Sam just stares.

“Right,” he says flatly, and walks off.

Joaquin leans a little closer. His voice low, teasing.

“You sure we’re not a thing?”

Your heart stutters. Your magic simmers.

You don’t answer.

———

Your fists fly, your magic crackles, and the reinforced training dummy is begging for mercy.

You blast it with one last hit of red chaos energy and pant through a crooked grin as it sparks, smokes, and stumbles to the floor in defeat.

Joaquin’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching like he’s thoroughly enjoying the show. You’re sweating, breathing hard, hair clinging to your neck and forehead.

“Okay, well,” he drawls, “remind me never to piss you off in close quarters.”

You shoot him a sharp look, but your chest is still rising and falling fast. You’re flushed. Overheated. Magic humming hot in your skin.

He walks over, a towel in one hand and a water bottle in the other. You narrow your eyes.

“That for me or are you just flexing your hydration awareness?”

“Both.”

He presses the cold bottle into your hand, but instead of handing you the towel, he lifts it and gently pats the sweat from your forehead.

Your eyes flutter, caught off guard by the softness of it.

“You missed your calling,” you mutter. “Could’ve been a very aggressive spa technician.”

He grins, still toweling off the back of your neck.

“Nah. You just looked like you were seconds from combusting.”

“I am combusting. That’s kind of my whole thing.”

“Yeah, but this version looked a little less magical and a little more meltdown-on-the-mat.”

You roll your eyes and take another sip of water. He steps back—barely—and watches you like he’s memorizing something.

Then he says, quieter:

“I like when you let yourself get messy.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Messy?”

“Yeah. All powerful, untouchable chaos witch and still out here sweating like a mortal. It’s… grounding.”

You huff out a breath that’s almost a laugh. Toss the towel back at him. He catches it without looking, too busy watching your mouth.

You smirk.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna fight me?”

He steps closer.

“You want me to pin you down that bad?”

Your magic flickers behind your eyes. He notices.

“Careful,” you whisper.

“Always,” he murmurs.

And then you’re both just standing there, chests nearly brushing, heat rolling off your skin—and not a damn thing happens.

Because you step back first.

Because you always step back first.

———

Your room is quiet. Dim. The moonlight filters in across the edge of your bed, silver and cold.

You’re curled under a blanket, scrolling through missions and notes, pretending your chest doesn’t feel tight after today’s debrief.

The knock comes soft.

Once.

Then twice.

You don’t even have to ask who it is.

The door creaks open slowly. Joaquin peeks his head in like he’s expecting to get yelled at.

“You still up?”

You raise your phone.

“Aren’t you always?”

He grins and slips inside, closing the door behind him. His hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his forearms and his hair’s messy—like he’s been running a hand through it for hours.

He walks over and holds up his phone.

“I found three videos I know you’re gonna hate but laugh at anyway.”

“Only three?”

“I’m pacing myself.”

You scoot over. He climbs into bed like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal. Because it is.

This has become your thing. 3AM visits. Secret scrolling. Close proximity under the guise of shared memes and exhaustion. Neither of you talk about it. Neither of you have to.

You both know.

The side of his arm brushes yours as he tilts the screen toward you. Your legs stretch out beside each other, ankles nearly touching.

He plays a video.

You snort.

“I hate that you’re right.”

He glances over at you, and you’re too tired to hide the smile curling at your lips.

He shifts onto his side a little, propped on one elbow now. His face close. His breath warmer.

Your blanket is barely covering either of you. The silence stretches.

“You had a rough day,” he says softly.

You don’t respond. You don’t have to.

He watches you like you’re glass. Like he’s trying to read your mind. Like he wants to fix something.

“You can’t fix everything,” you whisper finally.

“I’m still gonna try.”

That does something dangerous to your heart. To your magic. To your restraint.

You swallow.

“Joaquin—”

“I know.” His voice is soft. Gentle. “I’m not asking for anything. Just… this.”

He shifts closer. Just enough to rest his hand lightly against yours on top of the blanket. His fingers don’t move. They just stay.

Connected. Unspoken. Real.

You both fall asleep like that. Barely touching. Dreaming the same thing.

———

Everything goes sideways in seconds.

You were supposed to move in from the north—take out the guards, secure the intel. Easy. Clean. You’ve done this a hundred times.

But someone tipped them off.

Gunfire rains from above. Chaos erupts. Sam goes aerial, shouting into the comms. Joaquin darts into cover behind a container, motioning for you to take the left flank.

You move—too fast.

That’s when the trip mine goes off.

A deafening boom explodes beside you. You don’t scream, but you do go flying.

Joaquin sees it happen.

He sprints through gunfire, bullets whizzing past his ears. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t think. He just runs.

You’re sprawled against a concrete barrier, coughing from the dust, your body buzzing with leftover magic that flared up to shield you on instinct.

“Y/N!” he shouts, dropping to his knees beside you, hands already on your arms, your face, your shoulders—checking for blood, for wounds, for broken bones.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly. Too quickly. Your voice is shaking. “I had it under control.”

You didn’t.

There’s a deep gash on your shoulder where a shard caught you. Your lip is split. Your hand is trembling.

“That mine was primed, you could’ve—”

“But I didn’t.”

Your magic pulses too hot around your fingers, unstable. You clench them into fists to make it stop. You won’t look at him.

“Y/N,” he says, lower now, more breath than sound, “you can’t keep doing this. You’re not invincible.”

You finally meet his eyes.

And the look on his face—pure terror, heartbreak, relief—it guts you.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers. “Not like that. Not like that.”

You’re both breathing too hard. The fight is still going, but right now, this moment feels louder.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmur.

“You didn’t scare me,” he says. “You destroyed me.”

And you feel it—that awful, terrifying truth sitting in your throat like glass.

You almost died. And all you can think about is how it would’ve broken him.

⸻

Now she’s on the roof hours later, alone, trying to get her shit together, trying to breathe again.

———

The city is quiet.

Up here, above it all, the air is cooler. Quieter. The chaos of your thoughts doesn’t echo as loud.

You sit on the edge of the rooftop, knees drawn up, arms resting across them. Red energy flickers at your fingertips—nervous, uncertain, soft. Just enough to keep you company.

Footsteps.

You don’t have to look. You already know it’s him.

Joaquin settles beside you, legs dangling over the edge. His hoodie sleeves are bunched up again, and he smells like something familiar—clean and safe and warm.

Neither of you speak at first.

The silence is comfortable. Almost.

“You always come up here when you’re avoiding something,” he says quietly.

You smirk.

“You always follow me when I do.”

“Because I don’t like the idea of you hurting alone.”

That makes you glance at him. His jaw’s tense. His eyes are tired.

You swallow.

“I’m not hurting.”

He raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t say it, but you both know that’s a lie.

He shifts, turning toward you more. You feel the heat of him, the closeness. Your arm brushes his. You don’t move.

“You scared me today,” he says.

That makes your heart stutter.

“You got reckless. You took a hit you didn’t need to. You’re better than that.”

You glance down at your hands. The red glow pulses faintly. He reaches out and stills them—his hand gentle as it closes around yours.

Your breath catches.

“You can’t keep carrying all of it,” he says, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Even chaos needs a break.”

You meet his gaze.

It’s a mistake.

Because he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. Like he’s been trying not to love you for months and just… lost the fight.

His eyes drop to your mouth.

Your pulse skids. You don’t breathe.

You both lean in at the same time—slow, tentative, like testing gravity.

Your noses brush. You feel his breath fan over your lips. His hand rises to your jaw, tentative, fingers grazing your cheek like you’ll vanish if he touches you too hard.

And god—you want it. You want it so bad it aches.

You tilt your head just a little, lips parted—

And then you stop. Frozen. Half a centimeter away.

Your heart is pounding. Your magic pulses between you.

You feel his breath catch.

“Don’t,” you whisper, barely audible. “Don’t care for me like this.”

He stills.

“Too late,” he breathes.

You pull back, slowly. Like it hurts. Because it does.

“I can’t give you what you want,” you say softly. “If I do… and something happens to you… I don’t know if I could survive that.”

He searches your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“So what, we pretend this doesn’t exist? Pretend we don’t?”

You look away.

“We keep each other alive. That’s what we do.”

He nods slowly. But you don’t miss the pain in his eyes.

“Then I’ll keep pretending. If that’s what you need.”

You don’t speak. You can’t.

Because if you do, you’ll kiss him anyway.

———

The fluorescent lights are too bright.

The chairs are too cold.

And Joaquin is sitting too damn close.

You’re trying to breathe evenly, trying not to look at him, but his leg keeps brushing yours under the table and your mind won’t stop replaying what almost happened on the rooftop five hours ago.

His hand on your cheek.

His lips almost on yours.

That look in his eyes.

“Too late,” he said.

You haven’t slept.

Across the table, Sam Wilson drops a file onto the surface with a sharp thwap.

“This one’s high priority. We’ve got intel that a black-market transport vessel is moving refined adamantium off the Atlantic coast—”

Your stomach tightens.

“They’re skimming ocean territory just outside international lines, which means we need to get in fast, quiet, and untraceable.”

You nod, silent. Joaquin shifts beside you.

“The three of us go in aerial,” Sam continues. “Y/N, you’ll hang back until we ID the exact hold. I want you on overwatch until we breach. No showing off.”

He looks pointedly at you.

You smirk faintly.

“Define showing off.”

Joaquin snorts beside you. Sam sighs.

“Just stay alive. Both of you. The council’s already breathing down our necks about Wakandan metal, and I don’t need a damn rescue op on top of it.”

He looks between the two of you—like he knows something’s up but doesn’t want to deal with it yet.

“Wings prepped for launch at 0800. No mistakes. Questions?”

Silence.

“Good. Dismissed.”

———

The wind roars in your ears.

From your perch high above the vessel, you float just outside radar range, a shimmering red shield cloaking your energy signature. Your fingers twitch, ready. Watching. Waiting.

“Red, you copy?” Joaquin’s voice cuts through your earpiece.

“Copy.”

“You sure you’re okay up there?”

“You’re the one flapping around in open air like a glowstick, Torres. Maybe Ishould be checking on you.”

You hear him laugh through the comms. It softens the anxiety in your chest—but only slightly.

Then Sam’s voice comes in, sharp:

“Vessel identified. We’re breaching from the port side.”

“On your mark,” you respond.

Joaquin zips lower, wings slicing through the sky, and just as he banks left to take position—

A flash of light.

A missile screams from the hull of the ship.

You feel it before you see it.

“Joaquin—”

But it’s too late.

The blast hits him midair. His body spirals out like a comet, wings ripped, suit malfunctioning. You scream his name into the comms as he plummets toward the ocean.

“SAM, HE’S HIT—!”

Your body surges forward on instinct, red magic roaring from your palms as you dive. You feel your heart pounding in your throat. You won’t make it in time. You won’t—

Then you do.

You catch him mid-fall, slowing his velocity with a shockwave of pure energy. His body slams into your arms hard, but not fatally.

His breathing is shallow. He’s bleeding.

“Stay with me, Joaquin. Come on—look at me, look at me—”

You don’t know if he hears you.

Sam is shouting orders. Enemies are still firing. But you’re already rising with Joaquin in your arms, flying him toward the evac route. Every pulse of magic you burn hurts now, but you don’t care.

You’re not losing him.

Not today.

———

The med bay is quiet.

Too quiet.

Machines beep in steady rhythms. IV bags hang in still air. The scent of antiseptic clings to your skin like smoke.

Joaquin’s lying motionless in the hospital bed, chest bandaged, one arm splinted, a shallow gash across his cheek. The doctors said he’d live.

But they didn’t say when he’d wake up.

You haven’t moved in hours. Just sat there, unmoving, staring at him like if you blinked, he might disappear.

Your hand is wrapped around his.

Your magic hums under your skin, wild and aching, searching for something to do—something to fix. But it can’t fix this. Not really.

And that’s what breaks you.

You finally speak, voice raw, barely above a whisper:

“When I was sixteen, my brother died.”

The words come like glass in your throat.

“I thought it was the end of my world. And it was—for a while. He was the only one who really knew me. I trusted him with everything. And then one day… he just didn’t come back.”

Your hand tightens around Joaquin’s.

“After that, I stopped letting people in. I thought… maybe if I didn’t love anyone else, it wouldn’t hurt like that again.”

You breathe out shakily. Blink away tears that sting and blur.

“And then you showed up. Loud. Relentless. So damn bright. Always sending memes at 3am. Always making me laugh when I didn’t want to. Always showing up.”

Your voice cracks.

“You made me feel again. You made me want. And it scared the hell out of me.”

You swallow hard.

“I’ve been keeping you at arm’s length because I didn’t want to lose you. Because I thought if I never let myself have you, I wouldn’t have to feel this again. But when I saw you falling out of the sky today—when I felt you slipping through my hands—”

You stop, breath hitching. The tears spill now. You don’t stop them.

“It made me realize… I don’t just want to be close to you.”

You lean forward in the chair, clutching his hand to your chest like a lifeline.

“I long to be close to you. I need it. I want everything with you, Joaquin. The stupid 3am TikToks. The rooftop mornings. The flirting. The falling asleep in each other’s beds. All of it. I want you.”

You press a trembling kiss to his knuckles.

Your forehead drops gently against his forearm. You stay there, eyes squeezed shut, letting the weight of it all sink in.

And then—

A low, hoarse voice breaks the silence:

“I knew you loved me.”

Your head snaps up.

His eyes are barely open—just enough to flash that smug little grin he always gets when he’s won something.

“You’re the worst,” you whisper through a half-sob, half-laugh.

“Nah,” he croaks, thumb brushing weakly across your hand. “You love me.”

“You were unconscious. That doesn’t count.”

“Didn’t stop you from confessing,” he murmurs, eyes falling shut again. “Gonna hold that over you forever.”

“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift carefully onto the edge of the bed, your fingers still laced with his, your free hand brushing his hair from his forehead. Your voice softens.

“Just… rest. Okay? I’ll be right here.”

And for the first time in a long, long time, you mean it.

———

The lights are dimmed now.

The machines are quieter.

And for the first time since the mission, he’s awake.

Really awake.

You walk in with a tray—nothing fancy, just soup, toast, and a drink. But it’s real food, and the way his face lights up when he sees it makes something in your chest ache.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, trying to sit up.

“No,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “You are injured. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.”

But he winces anyway, clutching his ribs, and you give him a pointed look. Still, he smiles as you help settle the tray over his lap and lower the bed slightly so he can eat.

You sit in the chair beside him, watching quietly as he takes the first few bites.

“Tastes like cardboard,” he says through a mouthful.

“You’re welcome.”

For a while, the silence is companionable. He eats slowly. You sip from a bottle of water. You think maybe this is enough.

But then he pauses.

Spoon halfway to his mouth, he looks at you—soft, serious, his voice quiet.

“I didn’t know about your brother.”

You blink.

“Yeah,” you say, looking down. “Most people don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

You just nod, a small motion. Your eyes sting again, but you won’t cry this time.

Then he does it.

With a quiet grunt, Joaquin shifts over in the bed, wincing but determined. He pats the space beside him—his palm gently tapping the blanket just once.

“Come here,” he says softly. “Please.”

You hesitate only a second before you move. Gently, carefully, you slide onto the bed beside him, sitting up straight but close enough to feel his warmth.

Your shoulder brushes his.

He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for days.

“I’ve always known I’m a hopeless romantic,” he says after a moment, staring at the ceiling like the words are carved up there.

“Ever since I was a kid. I wanted all the cheesy stuff. Dancing in the rain. Fighting over who makes the coffee. Falling asleep on someone’s shoulder. All of it.”

He turns his head to look at you.

“But with you? It’s more. It’s so much more. I want everything, Y/N.”

His voice breaks just slightly.

“I want to hold your hand when you can’t sleep. I want to hear you rant about your day. I want to spar with you even though you’ll win. I want to protect you—even if I know you could obliterate the multiverse with a blink. I want to show up. Be there. All of it.”

His fingers brush yours.

“And I want it all with you.”

You stare at him—barely breathing, barely moving.

Then, quietly, like the world is finally giving you permission to want this too, you lean in.

And so does he.

Your lips meet like a whisper.

No fire, no chaos—just warmth. Softness. The promise of something real.

He exhales into the kiss like he’s waited his whole life for it.

When you pull back, he’s still smiling.

“You’re gonna be hell on my ribs, huh?”

You laugh, forehead pressed to his.

“You’re the one who scooted over.”

“Worth it.”

You rest your hand on his chest—right over his heart—and whisper:

“You’re worth it.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe it.

[loving-this]

🫶🏻🥰🥰

means i care

joaquín torres x reader

"You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn't beating when I pulled you from that water."

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, idiots in love, pining, enhanced!reader with energy manipulation powers, canon level injuries, some angst, fluff, no use of y/n, reader has she/her pronouns, pov switches

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“You know, if we don't succeed here, we'll be looking at World War III. I could use a little extra good luck. If you know what I'm sayin’.”

You shift your gaze from the Indian Ocean outside of the jet's window to the man sitting beside you. At first, you question whether or not you heard him correctly. Then, you see the sly smirk on his lips and the glimmer of mischief in his brown eyes and you realize that you had, in fact, heard him correctly.

If you had any doubt about what he meant by a little extra good luck, the look on his face makes it abundantly clear.

Your eyes flicker to his lips for a split-second before you look back out to the endless expanse of blue water surrounding you. God knows that if you stare at him for a moment too long, you might just be weak enough to give in.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come dangerously close.

“Good luck, huh? I hope you’ve got a four-leaf clover or a rabbit’s foot stashed somewhere in that suit of yours, then.”

He laughs. The sound fills the jet and for a second, you forget where you are and what all is on the line.

“A thousand four-leaf clovers wouldn’t give me a fraction of the good luck that I’d get from a kis—”

“Landing in five!” Sam calls, effectively breaking the tension in the air. You doubt that it was intentional, but you’re thankful for the interruption nonetheless. As if the list of things on your mind isn’t already a mile long – the last thing you need to add to it right now is kissing Joaquín.

You should be used to it – the flirting and teasing. He hasn’t held back since the moment you met. First, you had assumed it’s just how he is – that he says the same things to any halfway decent looking girl in his age bracket.

Sam had insisted that’s not the case.

Still, past relationship trauma had left you unable to believe that he was being genuine –and unable to believe that any good could come from returning his flirtatious sentiments. Best case scenario, you hook up and relieve the tension that’s been brewing between you for months, things fizzle, and you have to continue to work together while attempting to ignore any awkwardness. Worst case scenario, you let yourself completely fall for him and someone inevitably gets hurt.

This line of work, this lifestyle – it doesn’t mesh well with romantic relationships. You’ve learned that lesson the hard way, a few times over.

So, despite the fact that you think he’s annoyingly attractive, you brush off the compliments and cheesy one-liners. You look for every excuse when he tries to spend time with you outside of work and missions, never letting yourself give in even when every fiber of your being is dying to do so.

Like right now. He sits beside you, his arm and thigh brushing against yours. Even through his thick, heavy gear, it sends a shiver up your spine. You resist the urge to grab his hand in yours and tell him that you and Sam have this handled if he wants to help from the sidelines.

You can hear his response as clear as day in your mind. “Keep to the sidelines? And let you and Sam have all the fun? Pshhh. You wish.”

You bite your tongue, afraid to let him know just how much you care. You might not let it show, but you’re more worried for his safety than you are your own.

There’s no chance of him staying on the base while you and Sam potentially risk your lives. But maybe you can at least give him an incentive to keep himself alive.

Joaquín starts to stand when you place a hand on his arm. He freezes, an almost hopeful expression on his face as he looks at you expectantly.

“Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Are you listening to a word I say?”

Sam’s voice snaps you out of your trance. You blink rapidly, lubricating your eyes that had been locked on a beeping monitor for an embarrassing amount of time.

“No,” you answer honestly. You glance at him for a brief moment before your eyes are back on the sleeping body a few feet away from you. “Not really. Sorry. What did you say?”

He sighs. He’s trying his hardest to not let it show, but you know that he’s getting a little annoyed with you.

You can’t really find the energy to care. You’re a little annoyed with him, too. He won’t stop tapping his fucking foot against the linoleum floor and the whole room still smells like the Chinese take-out he’d eaten hours ago.

Your stomach growls. Maybe you’re just hangry.

“I said you need to go home,” Sam says in an even tone. “Get a few hours of sleep, take a shower. Eat something that didn’t come out of a vending machine.”

Over the last four days, you’ve spent more time in this hospital room than your own apartment. You’ve only left to go home long enough to shower every other day, and to get gas stations snacks and coffee on occasion. The longest you’d been away from Joaquín’s bedside was yesterday morning, when you went to the Target down the road to put together a get well soon basket for when he wakes up.

Most guests would be asked to leave after standard visiting hours, but you suppose working with Captain America does come with some perks. You suppose it also helps that you were the one who pulled Joaquín from the ocean, flew him to safety, and restarted his heart with your powers while you waited on the emergency medical team to get to you on Celestial Island.

Maybe the hospital staff pities or – or maybe they’re a little scared of you. Either is fine, as long as you aren’t asked to leave for an extended period of time.

You’re hungry, and you need to shower, and a few hours of sleep in an actual bed certainly wouldn’t hurt. But the thought of not being here when he wakes up…

“I’ll call you,” Sam says, as if reading your mind. “I swear. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll let you know.”

You don’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you just nod. You’ve somehow managed to refrain from crying up until this point, but you’re running on a few hours of sleep and it’s starting to get to you.

Despite the various wounds and bruising across his body, he looks peaceful in his sleep. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, and you feel yourself relax at the visual reminder that he’s okay. He’s resting, and healing, and he’ll wake when his body is ready.

“Okay,” you whisper as you stand up from the scratchy, old recliner that you have been glued to for the majority of the last few days. “You call me as soon as he opens his eyes.”

Before leaving, you walk to the side of his bed. On the table next to him sits a vase of wildflowers that have already started to wilt, and the basket that you had brought, full of some of his favorite things – beef jerky, Takis, gummy bears – as well as a few personal care items that may be of use for the duration of his hospital stay after waking up – deodorant, a toothbrush and travel sized toothpaste, and the biggest stainless steel tumbler that you could find.

In the middle of the basket sits a small, plush falcon. You hadn’t even been looking for it when it caught your eye in the store, but you immediately knew you had to get it for him. Seeing it had felt like a sign that everything is going to be okay.

You remove the stuffed bird from the basket and tuck it between his side and his arm before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to the center of his forehead. It’s the first time you’ve touched him since the accident, and you’re reluctant to pull away.

Your eyes sting with all of the emotions that you’ve been holding inside for days. You don’t look back at Sam or say another word as you walk out of the room, hoping with everything in you that the next time you walk into this room, he greets you with one of his obnoxiously perfect smiles and a corny pick-up line.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first thing Joaquín hears is the low, repetitive beeping of a monitor. When he opens his eyes, he’s momentarily blinded by violent, early morning sunlight creeping through the blind slats.

“Well, well, well. How nice of you to decide to join the living today, Sleeping Beauty.”

He recognizes Sam’s voice a second before he sees him. Slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, he looks like he could use some sleep, himself.

All at once, images of the moments leading up to him plummeting into the ocean come flooding back. He remembers Sam yelling at him to back off from the last missile, the missile firing right at him, and then nose-diving into the ocean as you shriek his name.

You.

His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking for any sign of you. His heartrate spikes on the monitor. Sam jumps up, rushing over to his side.

“What – where is she – is she okay?”

God, his throat is painfully dry. How long has he been unconscious?

“Easy, easy,” Sam soothes as he takes a seat at the foot of the hospital bed. “She is fine. She was unharmed and has hardly left your side in five days. It was like pulling teeth just to convince her to go home for the night. Made me promise to call her the second you woke up.”

At first, he assumes Sam is just messing with him. You have hardly left his side? You, the same person who has rejected every one of his advances for nearly a year?

“You’re being serious? She’s been here?” He asks in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam exhales. “She’s been a mess, man. I don’t know how much you remember, but…” He trails off, avoiding Joaquín’s gaze.

“She’s the one who pulled you from that water. By the time she flew you somewhere safe, you weren’t breathing. She had to restart your heart with her powers until the medical team got to you.”

He can tell by Sam’s demeanor that he isn’t joking around, but he still struggles to wrap his head around it all. He had fucking died? His heart stopped, and you’re the reason that he’s alive? And you stayed with him while he’s been recovering?

Then, he remembers the last words you said to him before arriving on Celestial Island.

Don’t die out there and we’ll see about that kiss. Okay?

He isn’t sure if you really spoke those words, or if it’s some false memory that his subconscious conjured to keep him holding on while on the brink of death.

If it’s the latter, it worked. If it’s the former, and you really did say that, he supposes that offer is probably off the table since he technically did die.

Damn it.

Joaquín attempts to sit up and becomes aware of two things at once – he feels like he has been repeatedly ran over by a bus, and there's something fuzzy tickling his arm.

“What the hell…”

He picks up the small, stuffed falcon and can’t help but smile at it. “You shouldn’t have,” he chuckles, tossing the bird at Sam.

He catches it, smirking. “Oh, I didn’t.”

Sam gestures towards the table beside Joaquín. He follows his gaze, noticing the dying flowers and basket stuffed full of various snacks and self-care items. Whoever chose the contents of the basket, knows him well. He could live off of beef jerky if he had to, and gummy bears are his favorite.

“Who..?” Joaquín asks, trying not to get his hopes up that it could be from the person he most wants it to be from – the person who apparently saved his life.

“Take a guess,” Sam jabs as he tosses the stuffed animal back to Joaquín.

For a second, he thinks his heart just might stop again. He pictures you picking out the items and he has to shake his head to keep himself from grinning too big.

“Man, if I knew that all I had to do was die to get her attention, I would’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner.”

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Just don’t go making a habit of it, okay? I don’t know if she would forgive you if you did it again.”

Sam then pulls out his cell phone, excusing himself from the room to give you a call and to get Joaquin’s nurse. Once he’s alone, Joaquín fights against all of the stiffness in his body to reach for the basket sitting on the bedside table. In addition to all of the other goodies, there’s a card tucked between a stick of Old Spice deodorant and a bag of Takis.

It isn’t in an envelope. He instantly snorts at the image on the front of the card – it’s a cartoon dog wearing a cone collar with a dejected expression. In bold print, it reads: At least you don’t have to wear a cone.

He opens the card, and immediately recognizes your handwriting.

I specifically remember asking you to not die. Guess you were right about that good luck kiss, after all. I'll remember that next time.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The simultaneous dread and relief that you feel when you see Sam’s name pop up on your phone can’t be described in words. Dread at the mere possibility of bad news. Relief that it could be what you’ve been hoping to hear for days.

As soon as you hear him say that Joaquín is awake, you’re jumping out of bed at the ass crack of dawn. You don’t think about taking the time to eat any breakfast or even make yourself a cup of coffee – you just throw on some clean clothes, brush your teeth, and you’re out the door.

The short drive to the hospital is spent talking to yourself about what you're even going to say to him. How are things supposed to just go back to normal between the two of after something like this? After it felt like your heart stopped when his did? Do you even want things to go back to normal?

You knew you’d feel relieved to see him awake, but you don’t expect the overwhelming rush of emotions that comes over you as soon as you hear his voice murmur your name.

He's sitting up in his bed, holding the stuffed falcon that you’d given him and smiling at you like you hung the moon and stars as soon as you walk through the door.

That’s when you know the answer to your question – no, you don’t want things to go back to normal between you. With the way that you feel your heart in your throat, you don't think that’s a possibility, anyway.

“This little guy was a nice surprise to wake up to, you know. Kind of wish it had been you, but he’s cute, too.”

You no longer attempt to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill over for the last five days. You sit on the edge of his bed, directly beside his thigh and meagerly wipe the teardrops that leak down both of your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” His demeanor completely shifts when he realizes that you’re crying. He leans in closer and pulls you to him. You sob against his chest, and he runs a large hand up and down your back. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here. It's gonna take more than a missile or two to take me out.”

You nod against his chest, but don’t pull away. He continues to massage your back as you attempt to calm down, focusing on the feeling of him against you. When you finally lean back, he wipes a lingering tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You were dead, Joaquín. Your heart wasn’t beating when I pulled you from that water.”

He grins, taking your hand in his. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Well, it’s beating now. Because of you. But what’s new? My heart always beats for you.”

You exhale, finally letting yourself return his cheeky grin. The teasing remark makes you feel the happiest you have in days.

“Leave it to you to find a way to flirt when we are having a conversation about your death.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, his expression suddenly turning more serious. “I do have a question, though.”

You tilt your head in curiosity.

“When you brought me back to life, was it like a mouth to mouth type thing? Or..?”

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him back against his pillows. He cackles, his cheeks turning pink. He pulls you back to him, this time even closer than before. You can smell mint on his breath from the toothpaste you’d put in his get well soon basket.

“No. Thought I’d save that for when you’re awake.”

He places his hands on your sides, the light touches sending a thrill through you. The normally chilly hospital room suddenly feels a whole lot warmer.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. “I don’t want you to think that you.. owe me anything, or have to kiss me just because of what happened—”

You’re shaking your head before he finishes speaking.

“Joaquín,” you interrupt him softly. “I’ve been stupid. So, so stupid and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that it took something like this for me to open my eyes to what’s been right in front of me this whole time. I knew that if I let myself want more, if I let myself give in, that’d be it for me. And that terrified me. But I don’t care anymore. I’m more terrified of never getting the chance to—”

Suddenly, his hands move from your hips to either side of your face. He pulls you the remainder of the short distance to him, and then his lips are against yours; effectively ending your rambling.

One of your hands cups the nape of his neck, your fingers intertwined in his soft curls. His tongue ghosts along your bottom lip and you eagerly part them for him. The sounds from various machines and the voices out in the hallway all fade to white noise as he moves his lips with yours.

He's gentle. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s still relatively bedridden, but he touches you like he’s touching fine, breakable China. There’s an underlying urgency, like he’s scared he’s dreaming and wants to savor this as much as possible before he opens his eyes.

You pull away with a gentle tug of his bottom lip between your teeth. He doesn’t drop his hands from caressing your face, and your rest your forehead against his, basking in the afterglow of a kiss long overdue.

“Damn,” he breathes. “Please tell me we can do that again, minus all of the months of rejection and the close call with death.”

You laugh. “I can promise you no more rejection, but you have to promise me no more close calls with death.”

A gentle stroke of his thumb across your cheekbone sends goosebumps down your spine. “I promise, mi vida. I’ve been waiting too long for this. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

mi vida: spanish for "my life"

thank you so much for reading!!! as always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

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soft tissue therapy ── OP81 .✦

cw: suggestive but not explicit, just oscar piastri squeezing a boob for emotional stability

Oscar is quiet.

Which isn’t exactly unusual — he’s always quiet, even when he’s in a good mood. But right now he’s suspiciously silent. Face buried in your neck. One arm slung across your chest. And his hand… planted very intentionally on your boob.

Not resting. Not passive.

One finger twitches.

You don’t even look at him, just blink at the ceiling.

“Oscar.”

He doesn’t move. Just lets out a long breath against your skin. The hand stays exactly where it is.

“Mm.”

“Are you using my boob as a stress ball?”

His thumb flexes gently — squeeze.

Oh. So that’s what we’re doing.

Oscar finally lifts his head a little, looks at you with those calm, annoyingly unreadable brown eyes. “You’re soft. And I’m stressed.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you decided to just grab a titty about it?”

He blinks, unbothered. “I decided to regulate my nervous system using a natural tool provided by my environment.”

You stare at him. He stares back, completely serious.

You blink again.

“I hate you.”

He presses a slow, smug kiss to your collarbone. “No you don’t.”

You sigh. His hand doesn’t move. He’s cradling your boob like it’s a warm mug of tea after a race debrief.

“I can stop,” he says softly, “if it bothers you.”

You squint at him.

“But I might die.”

You snort — an involuntary little laugh. Of course that makes him smile, all satisfied and smug and cozy. He squeezes again.

“This is medical,” he adds.

“MEDICAL?”

Oscar nods solemnly. “Better than a foam roller. And less expensive than therapy.”

You shove his shoulder but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he curls in closer.

“I’m serious,” he says. “It’s comforting. My left hand is emotionally bonded to your left boob now. That’s just how things are.”

“You’re so annoying.”

He kisses your cheek. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Silence. His hand stays. Another soft squeeze.

You glance down at him suspiciously. “Did you do this during the race weekend?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“Oscar.”

“…Once.”

“During a race weekend? Like in public?”

“Technically I was inside the driver’s room.”

“Oh my god.”

He grins into your shoulder. “I imagined it, okay?”

You bury your face in your pillow and laugh. He kisses your neck in retaliation.

“I hate that I find this cute,” you mutter.

Oscar hums. “You’re gonna let me keep doing it though.”

You roll your eyes. “Only if you say thank you to the boob.”

He turns his face, gently nuzzles your chest, and whispers with mock sincerity: “Thank you for your service.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

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An Old Friend

Baby Blues Series - Part 12

Ex!Verstappen x Reader [Max’s POV]

Masterlist - Baby Blues Masterlist & Playlist

Summary: Max sees Daniel with his ex when he’s in the car with Penelope and Kelly and can’t help but wonder what could be going on.

Note: This is another piece of the old series that’s been reworked because I’m trying to upcycle what I can where applicable. Hopefully I’ll be cranking pieces out a little faster now it’s the weekend ❤️ fill my inbox beautiful sweethearts

wc 1.2k

The entire sequence was only really a few moments long, but to Max, it felt like an eternity longer. His hand had been draped casually on the inside of Kelly’s thigh, cradled there by her belly, just over halfway pregnant now. 

Most of his cars were sleek and sporty but the Aston Martin was more casual, more apt for a family to be, he thought. The traffic in Monaco was crawling, through the tunnel and down towards the marina, coming home from a dinner that they’d had just over the border in France in a small town with far less hustle and bustle - where he enjoyed not being recognised despite not being far from home. 

Penelope was in the back, quieter than she normally was but Max didn’t mention it, it didn’t feel like his responsibility to parent the little girl, not yet. In the moment, he couldn’t help but think of the baby he would’ve had with you, the baby you technically had, yet somehow never did. He didn’t celebrate her birthday when it passed last month, Kelly didn’t acknowledge it and nobody had reached out to see how he was. 

He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head, he reached for the touch screen console, tapping buttons until music erupts from the speakers on a low volume. 

Kelly looked over at him, clearly interested in why he had been sighing, but neither of them asked or answered any of the questions hanging in the air between them. The soft thrum of music from the speakers did nothing to soothe him like it normally did. His jaw ticked as he glanced toward the sidewalk, barely registering Kelly’s quiet hum along to the music as she scrolled Instagram. 

And then he saw you both.

Sat at a corner table outside of one of the restaurants you used to love for birthdays and anniversaries, a place you’d only go to celebrate and never ‘just because’. 

Despite sitting opposite each other at the table, the two seemed to huddle closer under the glow of a dim lamp, sharing a dessert with two spoons and a bottle of wine on the table between them.

He watched as you laughed at something Daniel said, rubbing your face and shaking your head in a way Max hadn’t seen in a long time… not since before everything had started to fall apart. 

Daniel leaned in just slightly, one hand resting on top of yours, he moved around the table to kneel your knees, wrapping his arms around you tightly. So fucking domestic, Max thought, silently stalking the sight of you with his lip turning in disgust. What the fuck is Daniel even doing with you? The last time he checked, Danny is his friend, not yours. 

And you didn’t flinch at Daniel’s intrusion. You didn’t move away. His stomach turns at the thought of Daniel being anything other than a friend, a possibility he hadn’t considered. 

Max’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles whitening. The pain hadn’t been the sudden kind - it had been creeping in, slow and bitter like frostbite, turning his fingers and toes before working through the rest of him. This, though, was the sting. The fucking killer. 

He had heard the whispers, seen the photos that surfaced now and then of you with Daniel or with Yuki or with Lando, spending time with the people he thought were his. 

But he had convinced himself it was coincidence, maybe comfort, maybe nothing. He’d told himself that really if anything, maybe a fleeting moment as Daniel comforted you, but it didn’t seem that way now as you held the Aussie like you used to cling to him, he froze as he considered that you might be upset, had Daniel upset you? 

Were you thinking of him? A sick part of him hoped that yes, you were thinking of him. 

A marriage coming to end and you moving on, being in public with his friend after ten weeks? The thought made him ill but he knew what he had done was worse and here he is, only speculating on you and Dan while he has his instant family in the car, watching you from afar. 

The moment stretched as the car idled at the light. His friend reached for his ex’s hand, intertwining fingers, Max stared as he kissed your knuckles. The kind of simple touch that cut deeper than any grand gesture. Max’s throat burned with bile and a sudden queasiness overtook him. He was white-knuckling the wheel almost impossibly, his breath caught in his throat, eyes on you both. 

You smiled at Daniel, blinking soft and slow, like he made you feel safe, giving a slow nod. Like you trusted him. And God, how could you? After everything? After what Max had done, you had so easily given yourself to someone new?

But the truth he couldn’t outrun - not even behind the tinted windows of a car he bought to look like a family man - was that you had every reason to move on. More right than he’d ever had. He’d forfeited that the moment he fell into bed with a woman with a poisonous mind and the touch of a Jezebel. 

Part of him had always wondered, when he laid in bed late at night with Kelly snoring quietly next to him, if the two of you would work this out later, come together again, only to now see that there was no later. Just this.

Penelope shifted in her seat behind him, whining about the traffic and rustling against the fabric of her booster as she fidgeted. He was suddenly back in the car, back to the reality of where he was, who he was with, what he’d chosen.

Kelly was still humming, still scrolling, still unaware of the storm splitting him open from deep inside. Her hand moved from her phone to rest gently on top of his, just a little squeeze. Her hand burned against his and he shook it off slightly, pulling his hand away. 

He swallowed the storm down, the ache and the suffocating guilt, not for Kelly, but for himself. For you, so beautiful and undeserving of the circus he’d created out of your marriage. 

His eyes flicked back up again without permission, caught on the way you leaned across the table, brushing a stray curl from Daniel’s forehead like you didn’t even realise you were doing it. Intimate in the way you used to be with him, in the private corners of restaurants, under the covers of sleepy mornings and in almost every little moment he used to think only the two of you knew how to share.

His jaw flexed. He nodded, like he was agreeing with some internal voice, pretending he wasn’t watching you slip further out of reach - he couldn’t cry, he couldn’t curse. He couldn’t scream at the wheel or slam his hand against the dash like he wanted to. Because Kelly was right there. Because Penelope was watching.

They’re your family now Max, he tells himself. She doesn’t belong to you anymore.

Baby Blues Taglist

@freyathehuntress @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @onlydeadcells @strawb3heart @raynetargaryan2 @d3kstar @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @mimisweetz @piston-cup @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @gandalfthegoatsblog @a-library-ofmy-own @lando-505 @okdokeygryssel63 @esw1012 @loveitwhenhelies @chaoswithus @dontsupressthejess @ravyn94 @bowielovesyou @mayax2o07 @remussbitch @wolfbc97 @camillyb

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➤ PROUD | MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x wife! reader, kimi antonelli + max + reader (platonic)

summary: kimi gets his first podium, max finds you crying in a bathroom, and you both realize you want to start a family together

wc: 2.6 k

warnings: none! a few innuendos on max's part

➤ MASTERLIST

You had been married to Max long enough to recognize when his focus shifted. When he stopped paying attention to useless questions, when a car caught his eye, when he heard someone saying something wrong about anything, really. It was the subtlest of changes, the softest of looks, but you saw the way he turned, just slightly, when the TV in the motorhome played a clip of the rookies, talking about pressure and the reality of F1. 

He watched from the corner of his eye, his notes still in hand, so that anyone who might walk by would think he was deeply focused, and not distracted by a simple broadcast. You, however, know better.

You push off the counter of the small coffee bar, coming to take the hat from his head, and rake your hand through his hair instead. 

He smiles slightly at the action, letting his attention break to look up at you. "Do you think they miss their mums?" You ask, eyes finding the broadcast. Max would've been about their age when he started, so young, so full of dreams. You weren't that much older than them really, but it was still enough to be daunting. 

Being 18, like Kimi, was the time of little independent steps, going away to university, starting something new. Becoming a world-famous F1 driver when you're not even old enough to drink in some countries had to be quite the trip. "What?" Max responds, now turning to give the TV his full attention. "The rookies?" 

"They just look so young." Doing all this, on their own. They might have teams and managers and fellow drivers, but it had to be terrifying. "It's got to be hard, away from family like that. And on Father's Day, too." 

"I didn't miss my parents," Max says, returning to the notes in his lap as he lies. He can never look at you when he does. You never pressed about his childhood, though all you can imagine is that poor boy, charting across Europe alone to do all of these races, with all the stress. It can't be good for children, even if they are racing prodigies. "I turned out fine." 

There's a beat of silence where you don't answer, and he lets out a soft breath. 

"Fine, relatively speaking." He corrects. "Besides, with all the karting and F2 or F3, they're used to travel." 

"Even when they're still in school, poor things." Max glances back at the TV as the clip of Isack hugging Lewis's dad plays, and your heart dislodges in your chest. That's a lot of pressure, something that never goes away with F1, or at least you've never seen it leave Max. He was becoming a beacon for the rookies, maybe because of it. He probably knew better than anyone how to handle that sort of pressure, the lifestyle change. 

Someone walks by, cutting through the moment, and you and Max just look at each other as you wait for them to leave. There was so much more to be said on this kind of topic, specifically behind closed doors, but there was more than just Max being a good mentor that played into it. Finally, the person leaves, and Max returns to his notes. "If you're worried about their education, you could help them with their homework." 

"Maybe I can cook them a nice meal. You can have them over." Max laughs, then, getting up from his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him. The move startles you, so quick and so in public, but you lived for these stolen moments. Max was always like this when he knew no one could see. Little bursts of energy, the hidden romance that was best protected when others weren't around. You didn't mind by now, really. You'd rather your kisses be private than spread across Instagram. "What?" 

"You are something else," He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Worry about me for a change, hm? Where's my home cooked meals?" 

"They're a treat for when you win," You say as you press a quick kiss to his lips before finally pushing away. The last thing you needed was some photographer walking in on you two. "So go lose, yeah? Saves me from having to do the dishes." 

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he prepares to go, and you're struck by a feeling you can't quite describe. It's a strange sort of love that twists in your gut, almost complete but not quite. Loving Max was always just a full-bodied feeling, that some small part of it missing was obvious. It wasn't nerves, though the butterflies still came out as he raced, as he battled for second place. 

It wasn't anger, or concern, or sadness, no strange emotion you couldn't place. Instead, it just felt like you were waiting for the last piece to click into place, even if you didn't realize what it was. Max gets second, and the win doesn't really fix it either, though you're happy he placed well. He probably wasn't the most enthused at George's first, but then, as the racers settle, you realize who came in third: 

Kimi. 

Little Kimi, with his homework and the pressure and now, you realize as you watch the nearby Mercedes garage, without his parents. 

That must be awful, you find yourself thinking as your heart sinks further into your stomach. What a race to miss, to have no one there to celebrate. The big screens catch your eye as you see Max approach Kimi, and for a moment, the world pauses as Max pulls him into a quick hug that feels like it might last forever. 

That's the missing piece, you think. 

Max had always been so good with kids. Whether his little nieces or nephews, or teenagers like Kimi, he had a way with them. He was patient, and funny, and kind, and welcoming. He was saying something to Kimi as your visions swims before you, a mix of emotions that truly catch you by surprise. 

It's pride, and heartbreak, and knowing. 

That could be your son someday. Maybe he had just done well on a test, or won a competition, you didn't care, and Max was hugging him like a father would. You turn back toward the Red Bull garage's bathroom, quick to try to calm yourself, but it's no use. 

Max would make a fantastic father one day, and for the very first time, you realize that's something you can pursue. 

-

There was something going on with you lately. Max hadn't really had too much time to notice it, with the triple headers and your work schedule, but you were just...softer. Not in a bad way, and not in a way he'd ever vocalize, but you were just so utterly irresistible and sweet. He didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave your side, didn't even mind hearing you talk about ridiculous things like rookies being lonely and the best parks near his apartment. 

But there was something brewing under the surface, and he didn't really know what. 

Then again, he also just got 2nd place, and you're not at the barrier to greet him, so he doesn't really have time to focus on that either. He chalks it up to the crowds crushing in to get to George and Kimi, both for George's first win of the season and Kimi's first podium, both of whom refuse to stop smiling, especially once they get to the podium platform. Even from up above, however, Max can't seem to spot you. He can always find you in a crowd, a skill he prides himself on. 

You were wearing one of his hats, and a cute little white dress, so it should be easy, but you're not with his team, not with the crowd. 

Nowhere. 

Finally, when he gets back to his driver's room, and it's empty, does he start to worry. "Have you seen-" He barely gets the word out before one of his attendants is gesturing towards the restroom with a strange expression, and Max panics at the thought of you being sick, of something being wrong, and he quickly knocks on the door. "Love? You okay?" 

"Shit, Max-" Your voice sounds hoarse and Max's heart breaks at the thought of you being sick while he was out celebrating, but when you open the door just a crack, he realizes it's something else entirely. "Sorry, sorry, I'm a mess." 

You let him into the restroom, a small space considering it's just a little side room, but that sort of invasion of each other's space had never bothered either of you. What does bother him is the tear-tracks on your cheeks, the way you laugh sadly as you try to wipe away the evidence. "What's wrong?" 

You crying is not the most uncommon sight in the world, but the last time you cried at one of his races was because he won his fourth championship title. Maybe you were crying over how poorly he was doing? Maybe something terrible happened? "The video-" 

"What video?" Max rushes out, coming to cup your face in his hands. "I swear, if anyone said anything-" 

"You hugged," You say with another soft laugh, now truly confusing him. Max tries to wrack his brain for the last time he hugged a woman that might be taken as him cheating, and then what it might take for you to have a mental break. "And his dad wasn't there." 

"What?" Then, the pieces click into place. "Kimi?" You nod, sniffing softly as you wipe at your nose with a tissue. "You're crying...because I hugged Kimi?" 

"Our little baby got his first podium." 

Our. 

Little. 

Baby. 

Oh shit. "Are you pregnant?" 

"What?" That seems to snap you from your tears, looking up at him before reaching out to smack his arm. "No! I can be emotional without being hormonal!" 

"I wasn't saying that," He soothes, though he finds himself somewhat saddened by the answer in a way he never thought he would be. "You just called him our baby." 

"He's your baby," You joke, covering your face with your hands. "He won and you hugged him, and his parents are here, and he's probably so happy I just...I can't. How could you not cry? He worked so hard!" 

Max slowly wraps his arms around you and gently rocks you, unable to stop the growing smile on his face. Only you could get emotional about another man getting on the podium. You'd probably be like this for all the rookies, he thinks. He'll need to start packing more tissues. "But you didn't come to watch." I missed you, he wants to say, but right now is not about him. 

"I didn't want anyone to see me like this and take it wrong." You say, muffled by his shoulder. "If I saw him in person I'd probably start bawling." 

"Well, you should go congratulate him if it moved you to tears." He says, somewhat teasing, somewhat not. It was a very big thing for Kimi to finally get on the podium, and you were right. He worked hard to get here, taking third place in a way many other drivers couldn't currently. 

Maybe crying over it was a bit much, but being proud? That was understandable. "Give me your sunglasses." 

"Anything for you," He says, reluctantly pulling the sunglasses he'd hung on his shirt collar and handing them out to you. You walk, then, hand in hand through the garages before reaching Mercedes, which Max realizes is somewhat enemy territory, but for you, he doesn't mind. Kimi is off to the side to take pictures with some of the mechanics, all beaming ear to ear, and he hears you sniff beside him. "Hey, Kimi." 

Kimi looks up with a grin, and you offer a small wave. "I just wanted to come congratulate you," You say, and Kimi immediately goes in for a hug, which somehow makes Max more emotional as he watches it. 

That's the missing piece, he thinks, what he wasn't getting about the tears.

You were always so good with kids. Whether Max's own nieces or nephews, or teenagers like Kimi, you were always so good with them. Even now, Kimi sinks into your arms like you're his mother, like it was the kind of hug he needed. You already were so patient with Max, you had to be with children, so warm and honest and welcoming. Kimi could be your kid someday, maybe after having a hard day, or maybe after a good one, just needing comfort. 

You would be an incredible mom someday, and as Max had said earlier, he'd do anything for you. A little baby, clad in Red Bull gear, with his hair colour and your eyes, it would be perfect. 

Anything you make would be perfect. "I'm so proud." You say as you pull back. "Your parents must be so proud! Third! You're first podium!" 

"You're going to make me cry," Kimi sniffs, and Max watches your bottom lip tremble. "No, no, don't cry too!" 

"Alright, alright." Max wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. "Both of you." 

"Emotions are meant to be felt!" You say stubbornly, a reminder Max has had to hear plenty of times. You had never made him feel guilty when he got angry, never made him feel like he couldn't be sad. It was the sort of thing a parent should have said to him as a kid, the sort of thing that would make you a fantastic parent now. 

"You know what they call you?" Kimi says, more to Max than you. "Mother Hen. Now you are Mother and Father Hen." 

You tense in Max's arm, and he softly laughs. "We're adopting him." You state bluntly, looking up to Max. "Can we adopt all of them?" 

"Bit late to adopt, I think." He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "We'll just have to make our own." 

"Hey!" Kimi says, hands flying to his ears like an actual kid as he laughs.

"You can be our babysitter," Max continues, reaching out to shake hands with the boy, who happily shakes it back. You, on the other hand, are shooting Max a rather strange look. "What? It'll be good for him to have a normal job for once." 

"We can all take turns," Kimi agrees eagerly. "Ollie and I-" 

You finally laugh, shaking your head as you take a step back, and Max doesn't blame you. Those boys probably got into more strange situations than Max did at that age, which is saying something. "There is no way both you and Ollie are looking after them. That is a recipe for disaster waiting to happen." 

"What's a disaster waiting to happen?" George asks, and now it's Max's turn to tense. He was very good at being civil, good at hiding it too, but that didn't cut the tension in the air.

"Ollie and Kimi babysitting for us." You answer for him, head coming to lean back against Max's shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. It's the sort of admissions that would make headlines if it got out, but considering what Max was planning on tonight?

Probably wasn't too early to announce the baby.

"Babysitting?" George echoes, shocked. "Are you expecting?" 

"Not currently," Max says before he can help it. "Give it about nine months." 

"Max!" Your face flushes red, smacking at his arm, and he takes it as his cue to leave. "You are unbelievable!" 

"Congratulations, Kimi." Max says as he leads you away, trying hard not to laugh as both Kimi and George exchange looks. "George." 

You wave goodbye, turning around to look at them, and Max keeps his arm around your waist to drag you backwards. "You both did so well! You better celebrate tonight."

"I think you are celebrating enough for the both of us." Kimi answers, and George turns on him like a scandalized mother.

You laugh as you turn back around, and Max finds that he missed the sound. You crying was easily one of the things he hated most in this world, meaning your laugh is one of the things he loved the most.

Your hand slips into his, offering a squeeze. Only when you're finally out of earshot, the rest of the crews and the microphones and the eavesdroppers hidden away, do you tug harder on Max's hand, drawing his attention. "Do you mean that? About starting a family?" 

"Like I said, anything for you." Then, after a beat, "We're not naming our kid Kimi." 

"I know," You answer, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "I was thinking George." 

a/n: KIMI PODIUM! didn't realize i was a kimi fan until i genuinely got emotional at seeing him come third.

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🥰

Flirting ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Just moments of Joaquín and you flirting with each other

tw: fem!reader, suggestive, reader gets her wisdom teeth removed and is high on pain killers, Joaquín gets a sunburn and reader peels off his peeling skin, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

I said I would write so much that you would be sick of me, I'm out of requests though so I'm just writing whatever comes to my head. I keep getting distracted from writing by the movies I have playing in the background.

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín❤️: Can I try rizzing you up? you: Omg, WHO taught you that 💀 But sure, go ahead Joaquín❤️: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ... read more

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"You got a boyfriend?" You turned around in disgust before breaking into a laugh, there stood Joaquín with a goofy smile on his face and making his voice deeper.

"I was about to scream at you," you laughed, slapping his chest.

"I mean, we can leave and I can make you scream in a more enjoyable way," he gave you his little smirk, his sharp canines showing making your brain fuzzy.

"Let's hang out with your friends for a little first," you reasoned and he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you with him.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Joaquín had been with friends all day and the fun energy slowly started to dissolve. You sighed a little as you stared at the TV, Joaquín looked over with a questioning look.

"Are you ok?" Joaquín moved closer, grabbing your hand to get your attention.

"Yeah, it's just after a full day with so much to do, I just feel empty," you confided in him. He hummed and scooted even closer to you, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"I could fill you up, make you not empty," he mumbled in your ear, his hand go to slowly slide up your thigh.

"Joaquín!" You laughed breathlessly but parted your legs for him.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"You're really pretty," Joaquín said, you looked up from your phone at his words.

"Thank you, you're very handsome," you replied, thinking nothing of his random flirting.

"Too pretty to be with me," he mused and you put your phone down.

"Stop it," you leveled him with a look.

"What? It's the truth!" He shot back and you shook your head.

"No, it's not," you raised an eyebrow.

"It is! It's like those videos that go 'and for my next trick, I'll pull a girl so far out of my league it looks like she's doing charity work'!"

"If anything, you're the one who looks like they're doing charity work!" You countered, standing up and moving to sit on his lap from where he was in the overstuffed chair. You saw Joaquín go to argue with you again so you pressed your lips to his and slipped your tongue into his mouth. "Are we in agreement?" You mumbled as you pulled back, Joaquín chasing your lips with his eyes still closed. He nodded dumbly and pulled you back to him, desperate to feel your lips on his again.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"You're very pretty," you mumbled, you were high on pain killers after getting your wisdom teeth taken out. Joaquín was standing next to your bed, your dentist just finished telling him about how it went and left the room. Sam was standing on the other side, silent laughter shaking his shoulders. "Is he single?" You tried to whisper to Sam, your eyes darting to Joaquín.

"He isn't, he's got a girlfriend" Sam told you and you pouted. "You're his girlfriend, you know?" Sam decided to stop messing with you the second you started pouting.

"He's my pretty boy?" You gasped, looking over at Joaquín with love sick eyes.

"Yeah, baby, I am," Joaquín affirmed and you smiled wide, or as wide as you could with gauze in your mouth.

"My pretty boy, so pretty," you mumbled and your hand down his face and neck. Joaquín laughed and let you continue petting him as you mumbled about how pretty you found him.

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Joaquín was complaining about his sunburn, you had gone down to Miami to see his family and he kept forgetting to reapply his sunscreen. You were home and now you heard about his sunburn every few minutes.

"It itches," Joaquín tried to scratch his shoulders and upper back up to gently tossed a pillow at him.

"Stop it," you mumbled, Joaquín grumbled about how it was itchy and you sighed. "Come here," you moved a pillow to his lap and he happily bounded over to where you were on the couch from the loveseat. You grabbed the tweezers from the side table and gently started peeling away his flaking skin. "Is it starting to feel better?"

"Much," he sighed and you could feel him clench his hand against your leg.

"Sorry, I know it kinda hurts," you apologized as you started pulling off more skin.

"Will you kiss it better?"

"Mhm, when I'm done I'll kiss all your booboos better," you joked gently.

"Suddenly my lips are in agonizing pain," Joaquín turned his head to see your amused smile.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[loving-this]

| THE BEST DAY | — joaquin torres

MASTERLIST

| synopsis: | a dating couple, a bouquet toss, and a wedding. what could go wrong?

| includes: | joaquintorres x fem!reader, fluff, cliche, no use of, no use of y/n, teasing, wedding stuff, reader wears blue dress, really nosy relatives, manspreading

| word count: | 2.1k

| a/n: | inspired by the song the best day by taylor swift and like half a dozen bouquet toss reels on instagram. also i have limited knowledge on southern american wedding culture/traditions so if there is anything wrong please correct me!

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

IF YOU HAD known that an after party for a wedding could contain enough energy to fuel two Cirque Du Soleils, you would’ve worn sneakers instead of heels, jeans instead of a dress, and harnessed enough mental capacity to be tackled by Joaquin’s entire extended family before you even reached the reception tent.

You adjusted the soft blue satin of your dress, smoothing the fabric where it hugged your hips, feeling suddenly aware of the way it caught in the light. It was simple but stunning—a cowl neckline that shimmered with every step, and something you had spent eons debating on whether or not you should’ve gotten it.

But it was worth it, because you had barely stepped out of the car, before several aunties rushed over, each one of them in brightly patterened skirts and tops, all surrounding you and Joaquin in a flurry of hands and flower scented perfume wafted.

One by one, they pulled you into a hug, spewing question after question; and by the time one of Joaquin’s uncles managed to wrangle them away you had answered “are you going to get married?” one too many times.

Joaquin on the other hand, was no help whatsoever. He just stood there, all smug in his navy suit and open-collared shirt, cheeks flushed with pride. He looked devastating in the sun, and he knew it, too—but instead he just watched you get circled by half a dozen women who shared his nose, his smile, and his never ending enthusiasm for you.

But it wasn’t just the aunties that took an interest in you. Several of Joaquin’s little nephews and nieces had begun trailing after the two of you, half of them already covered in grass stains and mud, giggling and whispering behind your back with large, dutiful eyes.

One of the braver girls—probably no older than six, swallowed by a white dress full of pristine lace and an aggressively large bow—marched right up to you as you were nursing your champagne under the reception tent. Her shiny black shoes were scuffed to hell, and curls frizzed from the humidity as she stared at you with curious eyes.

“Are you his girlfriend?” she asked, pointing directly at Joaquin, who stood a few feet away, talking to his uncle.

You blinked in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, I am.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you repeated, smiling a little. “Is that okay?”

She crossed her arms, cocking her hip to the side in pure judgment. “But you’re way too pretty to be his girlfriend.”

Your jaw dropped with half a laugh caught in your throat. “Oh my god.”

“And he’s like… medium-handsome,” she continued with a shrug. “But you’re, like, really, really pretty.”

Joaquin turned just in time to catch that. “Did you just call me ‘medium-handsome’, Alejandra Luciana Torres?”

The girl ignored him, still studying you like you were an exhibit. “Are you also smart?”

“I—uh—”

“She is,” Joaquin interrupted, marching behind you before resting a hand on your waist. “Very smart and way out of my league. So let’s all be cool about it, okay?”

The little girl tilted her head up at him with still narrowed eyes. “Then how did you get her?”

“Great question,” you said under your breath, sipping your drink to hide your grin.

“I have charm,” Joaquin told her, pressing a hand to his chest. “And skills.”

“No,” she said flatly. “You have bad haircut.”

A loud “OHH!” rang out from the other kids, and one little boy collapsed onto the grass dramatically, while Joaquin’s mouth dropped open like he’d just been slapped in the face.

“What? My hair is fine,” he cried patting his loose curls resting across his forehead. “Your just mad that I look this good without trying.”

“Okay, Mr. Medium-Handsome,” you teased, “Let’s go before you end up throwing a tantrum.”

He sputtered, “I— you— you’re lucky I love you.”

You snorted and cupped his cheek, giving him a quick sloppy kiss to shut him up. The kids however, weren't as impressed. Behind you, a chorus of 'EWWW!''s rang out as you pulled away, and Alejandra— Joaquin's little cousin recoiled with enough force to make a rubber hand snapped. A few other kids screamed, one boy slapped a hand over his eyes while another started shrieking: "She's got Uncle J's cooties!"

Joaquin on the other hand looked completely smug. "See told I could get her."

The kids scurried away, as you rolled your eyes and patted his chest. "God, you're such a dork."

The sun had just begun to dip when the music started pounding over the speakers, and the soft afterglow casted a gold shine over the venue. You were halfway to the drink table, reaching out for a glass of wine when Joaquin slowed beside you, eyeing the growing crowd with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

You raised your eyebrow at him with a suspicious look. "Joaquin, absolutely not."

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What?"

"You're trying to convince me to dance, aren't you?"

"No..." he trailed off. "Well, okay, maybe I do. But y'know if you want to break a poor man’s heart—”

The words hadn't even left his mouth before you were already dragging him towards the sea of bodies, swishing their hips as Reggaeton blasted from the speakers, and cheers going up from the crowd. Music pulsed through your body, and Joaquin was already smiling. His moves were suave and easy, twirling you around like he’d done it a hundred times before. There was no resisting the way he moved with it, smooth and confident, one hand finding your waist, the other catching your wrist mid-spin.

Laughter bubbled out of you before you could stop it. It was impossible not to smile with him looking at you like that, especially with the scent of citrus and champagne drift in the air. Joaquin pulled you closer, cheek brushing yours for a beat, his voice low against your ear.

"Te estás divirtiendo?”

You blinked at him, caught between the rhythm of the song and the heat of his breath. “I have no idea what you just said,” you yelled over the music, laughing. “But I love you too!”

His grin was as wide as yours, shaking his head as he leaned in again. “That works.”

It didn’t take long before the layers started coming off. His suit jacket was the first to go slung somewhere over a chair between Suavemente and Chantaje. His tie was loosened, then vanished entirely, stuffed into his pocket after you pulled at it with a teasing smirk. And by the time he spun you into his arms again, the top few buttons of his shirt had popped open, sleeves rolled high up to his biceps, skin glowing under the lights and that ever-present grin stretched across his face like he hadn’t smiled in years.

His forearms flexed, and his face was flushed with a sheen coat of sweat. His hair was messy and fell over his forehead in a sweep, loose curls stuck to the back of his neck. You had barely noticed how long you’d been out there until he leaned down, your hips still swaying to the music as his lips brushed against your temple.

“Water?” he asked, voice warm against your skin.

“Please,” you breathed.

The two of you peeled off from the crowd, his hand slipping into yours as you made your way toward the drinks. You grabbed a glass of something cold and fizzy, pressing it to your cheek with a sigh, fanning your red cheeks.

When you glanced over at Joaquin, he was sprawled over his chair, legs wide open and hands tucked neatly behind his head. He looked far too pleased with himself, eyes half-lidded as he watched you with a lazy grin, shirt clinging to his chest from the heat, curls damp at the edges. It was infuriating, and you had to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight beside you to keep your sanity.

Instead, you focused on the group gathering just several feet away from you, a swirling knot of women in heels and sundresses already jostling for position behind the bride. Laughter spilled from their circle, some crouching low with hands on their knees, others bouncing on the balls of their feet, all caught up in the buzz of anticipation.

“What are they doing over there?” you murmured softly underneath your breath.

Joaquin glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in with a lopsided grin. “Bouquet toss, you should go join them.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he said, nudging you playfully. “Don’t you want to fight a bunch of strangers for symbolic flowers?”

“Hard pass,” you said, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “Besides, I’m not that close to your family, I’d feel weird.”

But he was still watching you with a grin on his face like he knew something you didn’t. You narrowed your eyes at him, ready to fire back when suddenly a small thud sounded in your lap.

Your conversation halted, as your eyes widened at the soft bundle of roses and baby’s breaths now nestled against your chest. Your breath caught in your throat and your mouth turned into sandpaper, gritty and scratchy as you stared in shock.

It took you two tries before you could find your voice again, and by then the crowd had erupted like thunder. Applauds and wolf whistles sounded and several aunties squealed as they all rushed towards you.

You shot of from your chair and turned to Joaquin, eyes wide with horror, bouquet still clutched in your hands. “I— I didn’t—”

Joaquin looked stunned, before his mouth curled into a delighted, wicked grin. “Holy fuck.”

All eyes seemed to turn on you, digging into your back before then turning to Joaquin.

“Oh my God!” a voice shrieked as footsteps pounded towards you. “Mija! Oh my dear, I’m finally going to have a grandchild!”

Your jaw dropped as Joaquin’s mother stretched her arms out, eyes wide with joy as she swept you into a hug.

“I— no— no,” you tried, “It wasn’t—”

“You caught the bouquet!” his mother squealed, “This is a sign from the universe!” She turned towards her son. “You! I want two grandchildren with her pretty face and your eyes. Fate has already decided.”

“Mamá!” Joaquin nearly choked, eyes wide as he half-laughed, half-pleaded. “No one’s having any babies yet.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, mijo,” she said waving her hands around. “Your father and I made you after a wedding—”

“Nope!” Joaquin clapped his hands over his ears. “We’re done. No. Shut it down.”

You stood frozen, bouquet still in your hands, heart pounding from the sudden storm of attention. Around you, a chorus of aunts and cousins began chiming in.

“I give it six months.”

“Ya gotta put the ring on it soon, J.”

“I’m willing to put 20 dollars that their wedding will be at the end of this year.”

“But she’s too pretty to marry Uncle Joaquin!”

Joaquin’s dad—thankfully, mercifully—stepped in saving the two of you from anymore unsolicited advice. “Okay, okay,” he said loudly, grinning as he herded everyone back toward the dance floor. “Let’s give them some air.”

He winked at you on the way past. “Congrats, kiddo, you’ve just got 100 more people added to your wedding guest list.”

You exhaled like you’d just escaped a house fire, dropping into the nearest chair, bouquet still clutched like in your lap. “God,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “I just wanted a drink.”

Joaquin dropped into the seat beside you, his collar crooked, and hair messier than ever. He looked far too pleased with himself for someone whose mother just tried to spiritually marry him off.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging your knee with his.

“I’m alive,” you muttered. “Barely.”

He chuckled, leaning back with a lazy sprawl. “They love you.”

“They terrify me.”

A beat passed as laughter, music, and the buzz of energy still lingered around the tent like fog. You were about to close your eyes when he leaned in, his voice low, warm, a grin in it even before he spoke.

“You know…” he murmured near your ear, “I wouldn’t mind if we had kids someday.”

Your head whipped toward him. “Joaquin.”

“I’m just saying,” he said innocently, holding up his hands. “I wouldn’t mind seeing mini versions of us running around the house like maniacs.”

You swatted his arm—hard—and he winced with a laugh.

“Marry me first,” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest, “before you even think about that.”

Joaquin grinned, rubbing where you hit him. “So that’s not a no?”

You groaned and sank lower in your chair, pulling a napkin over your face. “I need three years and a gallon of wine before we talk about that again, so my answer is maybe.”

He laughed, soft and slow, then leaned over and kissed your cheek anyway—careful, sweet, and just enough to make your stomach flip again.

“Three years,” he whispered. “That’s a deal.”

[loving-this]

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Just the Way Life Goes

Baby Blues Series - Part 11

Ex!Verstappen x Reader x Ricciardo

Masterlist - Baby Blues Masterlist & Playlist

Summary: Telling Daniel the news turns into a heart to heart about what was lost.

Note: My heart feels so heavy when I write about Allie but it feels like a necessary evil, in my head it’s like Max just forgot about that hurt so we’re working twice as hard on this end to remember ❤️

wc 2.3k

suggested listen: Over The Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole

You sit across from Daniel in a small Italian restaurant tucked into a quiet corner of the Monaco waterfront, hands wrapped around a glass of sparkling water that you’ve barely been sipping since arriving twenty minutes before him, a bundle of electricity thrumming within. 

The air is warm, thick with garlic and something sweet, probably the tomatoes roasting in the kitchen, it’s heavenly.

Outside, a few fans gather, shy at first, nudging one another and looking at him, eventually they become bold enough to come in and ask for a photo when they notice you’re both sitting in a lingering silence. Daniel smiles through it, charming and easy as always, putting his pinkie and thumb out and shaking it with a smile directed at the phone lens. You try to smile when the girl asks for a selfie with you too, a lesser occurence but regularly enough. 

“You’re so pretty in person! I couldn’t believe that Ferrari campaign, I couldn’t imagine you supporting anything other than Red Bull.” The girl breathes out and you have to laugh modestly, shaking your head gently, shushing her playfully and repaying the compliment, mentioning that you love her cool sense of fashion and the platform shoes she’s wearing. She hangs around for a beat longer, seeming like she’ll say something, glancing between you and Daniel before she grabs her boyfriend’s arm, both of them hurrying away with broad grins, shoving and jostling each other slightly. 

“They were sweet.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agrees, his eyes following them for a second before settling back on you, about to reach for your hand before he realises it seems occupied and that’s maybe too much for the ‘just drinks’ you’d invited him for. “Nice energy.”

You nod, but your fingers keep brushing against the condensation on your glass, tracing shapes you won’t remember. You should say it. You’ve been waiting to, but now that you’re here, words feel like a mouthful of marbles, impossible to form without the threat of breaking something.

Daniel clears his throat softly. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quiet. For you, I mean, what you thinking about?”

You glance out the window, buying time. The marina glows in the golden light, and for a second it almost looks like the past doesn’t exist. Then you see it - Max’s car, sleek and familiar, rolling down the street like a ghost you never fully exorcised. Kelly’s in the passenger seat, her long brown hair tucked into a white scarf, looking more than ever like a Vogue cover. Penelope’s head pops up in the back, small hands against the window as she laughs at something.

Daniel follows your gaze. His face softens, then hardens again, all in the space of a breath.

The silence returns, stretching over the table, taut and uneasy. You look down at your glass again. Your thumb rubs the rim, like there’s something waiting to be polished into clarity.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” You start, your voice barely makes it over the noise of the restaurant though, the low jazz music suddenly feeling more invasive than friendly. “When I was away with Lando-“

He scoffs quietly, unable to help the slight curl of his lap. “Your lap dog.” He corrects, thinking that he’s just joking although it never seems to come across that way. 

You huff out a tired, humorless laugh, not really offended but too tightly wound to find it funny.

“He’s just a friend, Dan.” You murmur, not bothering to defend it more than that, you don’t owe him any more than that and it isn’t his place to make those comments right now. “He was there. And I needed somewhere to be that wasn’t… here.”

Daniel nods, still smirking faintly like he wants to be easy about it, but his eyes are sharper now and he feels far more aware of where the conversation seems to be going. His palm flattens on the table and he listens to you expectantly, a discomfort brewing in his chest but nothing could prepare him for what comes next. 

“I’m pregnant.”

There’s a pause that stretches, you may as well have built a brick wall between the two of you on the tabletop because it’s like he isn’t there anymore. Daniel doesn’t move, but you see his jaw work - once, then again - like he’s trying to swallow something thick, it’s maybe the first time you’ve ever really seen anything other than happiness or an easy understanding on his face. 

“And what does he think about it?” He managed to grind out, elbows settling on the table, cracking his fingers and knuckles out of nervous habit before dragging a hand down his paling face. 

“No, I told you first.” You point out carefully, not wanting to think about Max right now and what he might think, that’s a whole other can of worms that doesn’t need to be opened yet. 

He’s confused, he doesn’t look any less frustrated but it’s as if he’s suddenly lost patience. “Why wouldn’t you tell him? You’re scared he’s gonna fuck off cause he’s a big kid?”

It’s your turn to be confused, faltering with raised eyebrows. “What the fuck are you on about? It’s hardly like it’s anything new for him? We’ve been here before, remember? He’s literally currently there with someone else?”

“What, Lando?” He asks. You’re as confused as each other until the penny finally fucking drops, your eyes widening and your head shaking ferociously. He thinks you’re telling him it’s Lando’s baby. “Danny, it’s yours or it’s Max’s.”

The confusion drains from his face so quickly it leaves something raw in its place, he looks as if the ground’s been pulled out from under him mid-step. His mouth opens slightly, then shuts again as he processes what you’ve just said.

“Oh.”

It lands like that, just the one syllable, stunned and flat, not nearly enough to hold the weight of the conversation. You watch the gears turn in his head, watch him rewind every assumption he made in the last minute, every wrong conclusion, every misplaced jab at Lando. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Shit.”

You don’t say anything. You just sit there, waiting.

The waiter approaches with a fresh carafe of water, asking how the starter is going, the arancini left untouched in the middle of the table. You smile sweetly despite the tension at the table, telling him that it’s lovely, that you’d just need a bit more time before going for the mains. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about Lando.” Daniel offers once the waiter is out of earshot, still not reacting to the baby news. “It wasn’t fair of me. He’s a nice kid, he’s good to you.” He reaches over the table and takes your hand, sighing a deep noise that seems to take all of the breath from his lungs. He leans down, his forehead on your knuckles as he holds your hand close. 

You don’t offer to absolve him and he doesn’t push for it either, knowing he’s been a bit of a twat. 

His head remains bowed to your hand, its gentle and reverent rather than flirtatious like he usually is. The silence fills the space around you despite the chatter of people nearby and the clinking of glasses and cutlery and tableware, for a moment, you wonder if he’s praying with it, in the silence. 

His eyes are glassy and uncertain when they lift to meet yours, full of tears. “So it could be me.” He says again, voice a little hoarse as he wipes the tears that have slipped down his cheeks. 

“I mean, yeah. There’s a 50% chance, the odds are pretty equal.”

Daniel’s fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours when he hears that, realising that he’s had sex with you the same number of times that Max had within the window. He doesn’t demand answers or receipts, he doesn’t hurl any accusations which you suppose he easily could. Just sits there, as if holding your hand might ground him in the version of reality where this is really happening to both of you.

For a while, neither of you speak. The restaurant hums on around you, oblivious. Over here in the corner, the world is suspended between the two of you.

When Daniel speaks again, his voice is low, almost childlike. “Do you want it to be mine?”

The question stuns you and you splutter slightly. “I mean Jesus fucking Christ, Daniel? That’s a seriously loaded fucking question.” You scold quietly, reeling to come up with the answer to that question that won’t make this seem like something it isn’t for now. “I don’t want it to be Max’s.” It’s not the same as wanting it to be his and it’s clear that he understands that. 

He nods, biting the inside of his cheek. There’s a moment where he looks like he might laugh, just to cut the heaviness of it all, but it never comes. Instead, he leans back slightly, letting go of your hand but keeping his eyes on you like he doesn’t want you to slip away altogether.

“I can’t pretend like this doesn’t scare the shit out of me,” he says, honest in a way that cuts. “But… if there’s even a chance that it’s mine… I want to know. I want to be there. I didn’t expect this but that doesn’t mean that I’m upset about it. How do you feel?”

It means everything that he’s asked that, always so attentive to how you feel and what’s going on, even when it’s so much for him as well. 

“It scares the fucking shit out of me.” You wipe at your under eyes, not giving the tears a moment to even properly form, already schooling your expression and willing yourself not to do this, not to break down now. 

“It makes me miss my little girl, Dan. Her birthdays just gone, you know. Her first. Kika made a cake a-and… she can’t bake for shit. But it was nice.” Tears begin to fall and you shake your head, pushing the thoughts away, battering them as hard as you can but it’s too much, they flood to the forefront and you’re crying now, properly crying. 

“And I can’t handle the thought that it might happen again, I don’t want to let another one down. I had Max when I lost Allie but if it happens again, god, I’d fucking die. I would.” And it’s true, you mean it with every fibre in your body. 

“She was so real.” You cry quietly, face pressing to your hands, it’s the first time he’s seen your grief like this, he was there when Allie never came home from the hospital but he was Max’s support system then, not yours. “Even if I only held her for a minute. God, Danny, she was so beautiful. Even if her whole life was just beginning, it was enough to love her forever. And now I’m sitting here and I’m scared that if I go through this again - if I get attached, if I hope...”

Daniel reaches across the table again. This time he doesn’t hesitate. His hands are firm as he lifts yours away from your face, delicate but strong before he leans in to kiss your salty tears, realising after a moment that it isn’t enough. Instead, he comes around the table and kneels to your height, pulling you in. 

You fold into him without resistance, shoulders trembling beneath the weight of everything you’ve been carrying. 

“I remember,” Daniel says softly against your hair. “When it happened with Allie. I remember you disappearing. Max wouldn’t even let anyone say her name.”

You nod slowly, throat too tight to answer. You’d felt that absence like a hole in your chest every moment since the second it happened. After a while, Max had turned stoic and you had turned inward, folding until you were nothing but a lump in the bedsheets. Somehow, because of that, it felt like no one had mourned her properly at all.

His palm strokes up and down your back, grounding you in the moment. And when your breathing finally begins to slow, he just rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your skin - and speaks again, a low timbre that shows that he’s been as upset as you, just without the crying. 

“What happened to Allie was… the worst thing that could’ve ever happened. It was a high risk pregnancy from the beginning and that wasn’t your fault or Max’s fault. We don’t know that this one will be the same.” He hoped his words were reassuring but in he was so scared that maybe he’d gotten something wrong. He pulled you close and kissed your shoulder again, opting just to hold you tight as you shuddered in his arms. 

“I’m not going anywhere, better get used to me.”

@remussbitch @mayax2o07 @bowielovesyou @ravyn94 @dontsupressthejess @chaoswithus @loveitwhenhelies @esw1012 @okdokeygryssel63 @lando-505 @a-library-ofmy-own @gandalfthegoatsblog @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @piston-cup @mimisweetz @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @d3kstar @raynetargaryan2 @strawb3heart @onlydeadcells @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @freyathehuntress

[loving-this]

Say it with Your Hands

Baby Blues Series - Part 10

Ex!Verstappen x Reader x Ricciardo

Masterlist - Baby Blues Masterlist

Summary: The full story of what happened with Daniel at the Friendsmas party comes to light after the confession to Lando.

Note: This part was planned since episode 1 of the rewrite and it feels exciting to finally be executing it, hopefully it’s okay! Pure smut with big dicc ricc (enjoy!)

wc 2.2k

You don’t remember reaching for his hand or why it felt so easy to lean into him, his arm slung lazily around your shoulder like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Where’s your shadow?” He asked, grin crooked, eyes crinkled with just enough alcohol behind them to show that he’s being more serious than he is not. 

“You mean Peanut? Or Lando?” You’re joking more than he is, a smile tugging at your lips as you slump into his side, getting comfy there on the sofa. The kiss had left you both feeling loose and free, too relaxed to care what anyone else would think about the scene unfolding. 

He snorted quietly beside you in amusement, glancing down at you. “Lando.”

“Don’t be a dickhead Dan, he looks up to you. You know that. He’s only being like that because he’s looking after me. I appreciate it. Makes me feel less like an idiot standing in the full beam of a car crash that’s currently my life just waiting to happen.”

He lets out a soft humming noise, smiling and raising a hand at Kika and Pierre as they go out the front door, calling their goodbyes, Kika slumped over her boyfriend’s shoulder drunkenly, blowing sloppy kisses towards you as you sit having a deep moment on the couch. 

“Have you spoken to someone about feeling like that?”

“I’ve done nothing but speak to people about it D. It feels like all anyone wants to fuckin talk about.” You tilt your head, meeting his eyes for a second too long, the apartment far quieter now as everyone seems to be gone, their goodbye’s lost in your moment of stress over the kiss and then the clarity while sitting here, overthinking. 

“I don’t know.” You said honestly, voice barely above a whisper as you let your eyes squeeze shut temporarily, focussing on the plush of the couch and the tinny jingle of Christmas songs in the background to keep you present in the moment. “I’ve just been floating about since I found out, you know? Can’t tell if I’m about to crash or if this is just what being awake feels like now. I don’t know if it’ll ever feel the way it used to or if this is just going to become normal.”

Daniel didn’t say anything right away, his finger absentmindedly stroking your thigh, just listening.

“You know what’s exponentially fucked? I asked him for years to write me letters. Postcards. Anything. From the races I wasn’t able to get to, little keepsakes that we could’ve given to Allie, so she’d know who mummy and daddy were before she came alone. You know?” You press, although he doesn’t know, he has no way of knowing how you and Max prepared for your little girl to be born and the hopes you’d had for traditions that your husband had never shared. 

“I begged for him to do that sort of thing and he didn’t ever. Then once it was all over, this letter falls out of the cupboard, he’s finally written to me. For a second I just completely forget everything and I was so grateful to finally have the one scrap of him that I’d always begged for-“

You choke back a sob and Daniel pulls you closer, lips pressing tight to your forehead, your temple, anywhere he can reach as he pulls you to straddle his lap, just holding you in his arms, cocooning you in his big arms and comfortable warmth. 

“So don’t ask me if I’ve spoken to someone because I can’t. I won’t.”

But his arms tighten around you like they’re trying to hold together all the cracked pieces of your world. His hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady, grounding. You sit there, straddling him, chests almost touching, his forehead leaning into yours like he’s silently begging you to let go - just enough to fall into him.

Your eyes open to find his, already on your tear-streaked face, his are wide and unguarded, kind. Gentle. 

You kiss him again - there’s absolutely no trace of overthinking this time. There’s no pressure of who might be watching or lurking nearby with the camera, ready to snap an unplanned candid and capture the intimate moment, there’s no what-ifs. Theres just the raw and unmistakably ache to feel something that doesn’t burn.

This kiss is deeper, more certain. He groans softly into it, hands sliding up beneath your shirt, finding bare skin like he’s memorising the way you feel.

His fingers dip into the hem of the white jumper you’re wearing, drafting over the exposed skin as he shifts, not breaking the kiss, pressing you down onto the sofa beneath his body, pinning you there with a comfortable weight. 

The jumper rides higher with the movement of his fingers, his touch growing more sure and focussed as he trails your hip, up your stomach and to the underlining of your bra, when his fingers graze underside of your tit you arch into him instinctively, a sharp breath escaping you both as the kiss breaks for a second - long enough for your eyes to meet, for his forehead to press to yours again.

“You good?” He breathes, voice husky and careful, already undoing you with just that.

You nod mutely, pulling him down to kiss you again - harder this time. Needing nothing but him in the moment as your legs come up to hook casually around his lips, his cock already straining against his jeans and pressing down against you despite the minimal effort. 

The next moments blur with motion and heat. Clothes are tugged up, down, discarded, half in laughter, half in a thick silence.

He mouths at your collarbone, your chest, pulling down the cup of your bra just enough to take a nipple between his lips, sucking gently until you gasp, your fingers tangling in his curls and god, it’s beautiful when he moans. Properly fucking moans, in a way that Max was always too embarrassed to. 

Daniel doesn’t fuck. He’s slow and steady, all mouth and hands and knee, pushing your thighs apart, he’s vocal and needy and unashamed. Nobody’s ever felt their way through sex with you quite like Daniel is starting to. 

His jeans are undone, shoved low on his hips around the curve of his ass, too desperate to bother pulling them all the way off, your hand slips inside, palm closing around him with the kind of slow, aching pressure that has his breath catching in your ear and his eyes fluttering shut, a look of satisfaction slowly washing over him as finally being touched. 

“Jesus fucking-“ He hisses, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips buck into your grip, his control burning at the edges and making his vision blur slightly in anticipation. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me n you’ve barely even started yet.”

You smile, lips brushing his neck, letting your teeth scrape lightly along the vein against his neck, still thick from racing this season. “Not tonight, honey. Ain’t your time yet.”

He laughs under his breath, low and shaky and then he’s pulling your panties to the side with practiced ease, fingers dipping into your heat.

“So wet for me already. Did I do this to you? Huh?” He murmurs, ego inflating as you make a sticky mess of wetness on his fingers the moment he touches you, he drags one finger slowly through your folds before slipping it inside, slowly, until he’s knuckle deep. “Fuck, you feel so good, so tight…”

Another finger joins the first, his thumb circling your clit as he watches your face, your mouth falling open, the moan that escapes you cracking at the edges like everything else in your life lately.

But it’s the first crack that doesn’t seem to hurt. 

Pleasure without guilt, a cardinal want without consequence. It’s just you and him and the ache of something more simmering beneath the skin.

The lewd squelch of his fingers in your cunt is enough to make him whine, pulling back and discarding his jeans properly now, kicking them aside as he uses both thumbs to slowly spread you open, sighing out at the glistening mess. 

“So pretty for me, such a pretty girl…” He presses a kiss to your forehead, taking his dick in his hand and fisting over the head a few times before lifting your thigh higher on his hip. 

“If it’s too much you’re gonna tell me, yeah?” His thumb drags over your bottom lip and you nod slowly, taking the hand he used, fingers tightening in his, eyes falling closed as he lines himself up and pushes forward with a sense of restraint that’s hanging by a thread. 

The press of him is slow, thick and unrelenting as he starts to sink in, and your breath hitches sharp in your throat.

“Fuck, Danny, God…” You whisper, clinging to his shoulders, manicured nails digging into the tattoos on his biceps as you pant out slightly, eyes screwing shut momentarily with the pressure of him. “You’re, shit, you’re so fuckin big.”

He groans like the words alone could undo him, cocky smirk rising to his mouth and he rock his hips slower but slightly deeper. “Yeah? Can you take it?”

“I feel so fucking full.” 

His jaw clenches, eyes squeezing shut for a second as he tries to hold onto any shred of composure as you praise the size of him, his hands dragging down your body, cupping your tits and following the shape of your stomach and hips slowly. “So fuckin beautiful.”

Your lips press against his for a sloppy kiss, making you murmur softly as his tongue meets yours. “Make me forget.” You beg, barely pulling back from his mouth, bringing him deeper with your legs around his hips so loosely, gasping as the stretch intensifies, his resolve snapping like tension on a rubber band, hurtling back with a vengeance. 

His hips force forward, burying himself fully in one smooth thrust that knocks a strangled cry out of your chest.

“Jesus Christ.” He growls, spreading your thighs beneath him as he half pins you down once more. “You feel, God - fuck, like heaven. Like you were made for me.”

Your head tips back against the sofa cushions as he starts to move, slow and deep at first, grinding his hips just right so your clit catches each time. You cling to him, every nerve set alight.

“Don’t stop…” You beg, breathless. “Daniel, don’t you fucking dare stop.”

“Not planning on stopping, this cunt feels like heaven around me, not gonna stop.” He kisses you hard, all tongue and teeth, hips driving into you with a growing sense of desperation. “Been thinking about this since he first started making you cry. It’s fuckin sick, no?”

You moan into his mouth, arching up to meet every thrust, not caring that he got off on the fact that Max had been upsetting you, fantasising about being a better boyfriend but never protecting you like you probably needed. “Knew you wanted me.”

Every press of his hips sends you closer to the edge. You grind against him, chasing the release like it’s something holy worth journeying forever for. It’s sweaty and sticky and the room echoes with the wet plap, plap, plap of his balls slapping against you but it’s the sexiest, albeit the filthiest thing. 

The orgasm is almost cosmic, your vision feeling shaky and your whole body flattened against the sofa, lips parted in soft sighs as he continues, throwing you over the edge and into the abyss of pleasure and overstimulation as he continues, panting soft to himself and pulling your legs closer as he keeps rutting into you, needy and without any kind of rhythm now as he chases his own release. 

He shudders violently, thrusting deep one last time before he spills inside you with a low, broken sound.

There’s silence after. Just your breathing. His heart racing against your chest. Your fingers in his damp curls, his lips brushing your cheekbone.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to. He presses a kiss to your sweaty temple and pulls out, hissing softly as he goes to the bathroom. 

@freyathehuntress @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @onlydeadcells @strawb3heart @raynetargaryan2 @d3kstar @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @mimisweetz @piston-cup @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @gandalfthegoatsblog @a-library-ofmy-own @lando-505 @okdokeygryssel63 @esw1012 @loveitwhenhelies @chaoswithus @dontsupressthejess @ravyn94 @bowielovesyou @mayax2o07 @remussbitch

[loving-this]

Drawing a Line in the Sand

Baby Blues Series - Part 9

Ex!Verstappen x Reader x Norris

Masterlist - Baby Blues Masterlist

Summary: An unexpected discussion comes about while holidaying with Lando and some other friends.

Note: Hopefully I didn’t royally arsefuck this series by throwing this curveball in there (: enjoy a little bit of Lando - also 2 posts in 12 hours? We’re so fucking back bro. Next part ready to be posted when I hit 620 followers (currently on 604 so reblog and like!)

wc 2.4k

complaints can be directed constructively to my inbox hehehe :)

“You kissed him, didn’t you? At that Christmas party in the new apartment?” He asks like he doesn’t really want to know the answer and you can’t help but peer over your shoulder to meet his eyes, watercolour blue and bright against his tanned skin. 

“Yeah, I did.” You nod a little, admitting the kiss with Daniel under the mistletoe to Lando as he asks, your back pressed to his chest as you sit there together in the sun, both sweaty and overheating but comfortable in each others presence and arms. 

His fingers plait your hair mindlessly before brushing it away, doing and undoing so easily. “Oh right.” He hums, not quite giving away much other than a simple half-acknowledgement. 

“Any good?” Lando asks, you pause, eyes lifting from the sand in front of you to the horizon far beyond the line of the ocean. The question is unexpected and it’s clear from the way he says it that he doesn’t actually want the answer, he doesn’t really want to know. You don’t owe him an explanation and to be fair to him, he’s not asking for one. 

“Don’t know to be fair. Didn’t really kiss him to find out whether he was any good. Just happened I suppose.” You give a slight shrug, suddenly aware of his heavy hand on your shoulder, his warm skin sticking to your back and his mouth that’s so close to your ear. 

You feel him shift slightly behind you, his arm moving to rest more firmly across your stomach as if anchoring himself there, anchoring you. “Just happened.” You say again, convincing yourself as much as him. 

The waves lap the shore with lazy rhythm, but you’re too aware of the heat of him, the weight of the conversation now lingering between you. It’s the first time that the kiss has been spoken about aloud, that you’ve let yourself admit what had happened between yourself and Daniel five or six weeks ago. 

His hand stills on your shoulder, just for a second - maybe two. It’s subtle, but enough to notice. You feel the breath he lets out through his nose, soft against the shell of your ear, and your skin prickles even though the sun’s still beating down on both of you.

“You didn’t kiss him because you wanted to?” Lando asks, quiet but not tentative. There’s no judgment in his voice - just curiosity, maybe a little confusion. He shifts slightly behind you, knees bent, arms draping over yours like he’s trying not to crowd you although he already is and has been the entire time. 

“I don’t know.” You draw your knees up to your chest, arms looping around them loosely. “I think I just wanted to forget. For one night. And Daniel… he’s good at distractions.”

You feel Lando nod against your shoulder, his forehead brushing your sun-warmed skin. His fingers start up again in your hair, plaiting strands and then undoing them, weaving and unwinding without thought. “Yeah. He is.”

Lando’s voice is soft, almost knowing, and it makes your chest ache in a way you weren’t quite prepared for. You don’t know if it’s the way he says it - flat, unbothered on the surface but with something else hiding underneath - or if it’s the fact that he doesn’t ask any more questions.

He just sits with it.

You blink slowly, your gaze fixed on the place where the water meets the sky, blue bleeding into deeper blue. You let the silence linger this time. Not awkward - just weighted. Your head tips back to lean against his shoulder, sighing quietly. 

“I didn’t mean for it to mean anything. And it didn’t. Not really.” You manage to say, picking the words apart, undecided about whether they’re even the right ones, not sure if they even do a half-justice to what you’re trying to tell the boy that you want more than anything not to judge you. 

Lando hums again - that same noncommittal sound that could mean anything, his thumb brushing lazy circles just beneath your bare waist. He’s grounding you whether he realises it or not.

“But it meant something to you,” he murmurs, not accusing, just observant. “Even if it wasn’t about Danny.”

“It meant that I wasn’t Max’s anymore. That I could make my own decisions. Even stupid drunken ones.”

You tilt your head a little until your cheek meets his bicep, warm and solid beneath your skin. You stay like that for a while - letting the tension unravel and the sun seep into your pores, letting yourself be close to him in a way that’s always been toeing the line of something more, something dangerous. 

Eventually, his fingers pause in your hair again, then drift down to trace along the inside of your neck, down to your collarbone, light and deliberate.

“You ever kiss someone just to feel okay again?” You’re careful as you ask, not planning to pry or judge, just wanting to feel like maybe what you’ve done isn’t so crazy, what you keep wanting to do isn’t too obscene. 

Lando goes still behind you. Then, after a breath - “Yeah, once.”

You lift your head, turning just enough to see him, the sun catching in the strands of his hair and painting his face in gold. His eyes flick down to your mouth for the briefest second before returning to yours.

“Thinking about giving it another go though, it didn’t seem to work the first time.” He adds, soft but certain. 

You stare at him, momentarily frozen in the space between now and whatever this is about to become. His voice is light, teasing almost - but the look in his eyes makes it clear that this isn’t a joke. 

Your breath catches, your lips part like you’re going to say something - maybe to laugh it off, maybe to tell him not to - but nothing comes out. Instead, you just blink at him. 

“I can’t make a mess of you too Lando.” The words finally come and when they do, they’re bitter and heavy when they sit between the two of you. You turn carefully to face him entirely, legs draped over one of his thighs, sitting between his legs still but sideways. “It can’t go to shit with you as well, so don’t do this. I’ve fucked up Lan…”

He immediately shakes his head and starts to comfort you but it’s no use. The damage is there and it can’t be undone anymore. 

“I’m pregnant.”

To say that he can’t ducks bf believe it would be a disgusting understatement. He’s shell-shocked, wide eyed and open-mouthed, not in a judgemental way but in the way that asks “where the fuck did that come from?”

He takes a breath and swallows the lump in his throat, pushing from shock to sympathy, full of love for you despite what you’re confessing to.

He lets himself stare without guilt for a moment. You can see the thoughts storming across his face; every flicker of disbelief, of sudden and unwanted clarity. He drags a hand through his curls, mouth parted like he might say something, but nothing comes for another long moment. 

“I mean… Fuck.” Lando mutters under his breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “I-I… I don’t even know what to say.”

You stay still, watching him spiral in real-time, unsure if giving him space will make it worse or better. He stands up suddenly, pacing just a few steps away from where you’re sitting in the sand before turning back around, eyes locked on you now, almost accusing.

“Was it Max?”

Shame burns at the back of your throat and tears stab at the insides of your eyes as you give a tiny shoulder lift, just enough. 

“Danny?” His voice cracks around the name, his whole chest pulling in like he’s bracing for a punch.

You hesitate and that’s enough of an answer to tell him that you have no fucking clue. 

He swears again, this time louder, hands clenched at his sides like he wants to hit something but doesn’t have the heart. He doesn’t want to be like Max, not when you’re sitting there looking so hurt. “Jesus fuckingChrist.”

You swallow. “I didn’t plan any of this, Lando. I didn’t even realise until a couple of days ago. I was just… I don’t know. I hadn’t been feeling right.” It suddenly seems so exposed and raw, you feel so small sitting on your knees in the sand while he paces angrily around you, like a shark waiting for blood. You fold your arms around your knees, trying to soothe yourself, waiting for him to speak.

Finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate. “You’re sure?”

“Three tests. All the same result.”

He presses his hands to his hips, breathing hard, his expression twisted into something between disbelief and heartbreak. “I asked you if it meant anything. If that kiss meant anything. And you said no, nevermind the fact that it was more than just a fucking kiss, wasn’t it? Clearly.”

“It didn’t!” You snap, not defensive, just desperate, hands flailing slightly as you stand to his level, moving closer and half shoving his shoulder in a desperate cry for him to just listen because you’re as angry and hurt and scared as he seems to be right now. “It wasn’t like that. It was stupid and I was hurting and I didn’t-“

“You didn’t fucking think. Because you never think!” He interrupts, quiet but sharp, his words are like glass in his throat as soon as he says them, the guilt overwhelming but he can’t stop himself now that the floodgates have opened. “You didn’t think, and now you’re pregnant, and I’m the one who’s supposed to keep my shit together again.”

Your eyes sting, shame flushing through you. “I didn’t tell you to fucki-“

“You didn’t have to!” He cries out angrily, kicking at the sand, his voice breaking. “I always do. Because it’s you. You never seem to see that though because you’re always too busy with anyone else! You always have been!”

He turns away from you again, dragging his hands through his hair like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Lando…” You try, your voice barely a whisper, but he just laughs bitterly, at himself more than anything, still not looking at you. “Lando, please.” You’re close to sobbing now, reaching for his hand but he half swats it away, shaking his head. 

He finally faces you again, eyes red-rimmed now. There’s no anger there anymore, just hurt. Real, quiet hurt.

“And I was so fucking stupid, wasn’t I?” He adds, sniffing deeply to try and chase the tears that were falling a moment ago, the sea air cold and salty in his lungs despite the tropical climate. “Sitting there, braiding your hair, thinking maybe this was the moment we finally got it right. I was thinking about kissing you.”

“I’m scared too, you know. I feel like a fucking idiot because I’ve got a baby in my belly and we all know what the fuck happened the first time. And it might belong to a man that made me feel only this big, or it might belong to a man that I slept with once when I was half drunk.” 

You hold your fingers up to show a small size, how big Max had made you feel. “I’m so fucking scared Lando so can you just… get over this? I need you. I’m so sorry, but I need you.”

His face softens instantly, like that’s the only thing he needed to hear to remind him he’s still himself and not just some casualty of your chaos these past few weeks. He walks back to you, kneels in the sand in front of where you’ve slumped to begin crying, hands on his thighs, chest still rising fast with each uneven breath as he presses a rough kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m not mad you’re pregnant.” He says quietly. “I’m not even mad that it’s maybe Daniel’s, out of everyone. I’m just…” He reaches for your hand, trembling slightly as he takes it. “I’m selfish and I don’t want to lose you to this. Not again and especially not to either of them.”

Your eyes fill, but you can’t look away. Instead, you nod, relief and fear mingling in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, not even really sure why it comes out for him or why it always seems to - because he’s always there, always picking up the pieces and dealing with the shit you’ve got going on, loyal and uncomplaining. 

He thinks you haven’t noticed but you always had. 

He doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes over your skin gently, trying his best to be reassuring in the only way he’s ever really known how. 

@freyathehuntress @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @onlydeadcells @strawb3heart @raynetargaryan2 @d3kstar @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @mimisweetz @piston-cup @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @gandalfthegoatsblog @a-library-ofmy-own @lando-505 @okdokeygryssel63 @esw1012 @loveitwhenhelies @chaoswithus @dontsupressthejess @ravyn94 @bowielovesyou @mayax2o07 @remussbitch

[loving-this]

A Glimpse of Us 📸

Baby Blues Series - Part 8

Ex!Verstappen x Reader

Masterlist - Baby Blues Masterlist

Summary: The beginning of recovery after Max’s betrayal, documented in photos and glimpses.

Note: This was a labour of love, I feel like deep down I’m so insecure about smau writing but I’ve mapped out the next couple parts in the series and should be better at uploading especially this series now that I’m feeling better - requests for the series are open and I’ll do what I can! :)

Faceclaim: Talia Mar

[December 11th - the day after finding out]

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 793,639 others

yn_verstappen at a time that's so difficult and confusing, I'm so grateful to have some of the most special friends. Thank you to anyone supporting me through this and I'm sorry for any hurt caused to anyone else by the recent news about my relationship coming to an end, we'll get there together guys 🩷

tagged: francisca.cgomes, landonorris and 10 others

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user1 it's the fact that she's apologising for her breakup with the most toxic asshole ever

↳ user2 she's the kindest person ever, how could max even do this ):

↳ user3 it says so much about him and not her

alexandrasaintmleaux call it a funeral, Cherie ;)

↳ charlesleclerc who died???

↳ alexandrasaintmleaux her relationship Cha, c'mon read the room

user4 Yuki, Lando and Danny being tagged!!!!!

landonorris revenge dress is killer

↳ yukitsunoda who’s crashing into him in Australia

↳ yn_verstappen omfg no let me do the honours once I've stopped crying 🏎️

danielricciardo his loss beautiful

↳ f1wagupdates SORRY WHAT?? DANNY?! WHAT?

redbullracing have a vodka RB for us but please drink responsibly ❤️

↳ user5 ohhh you know it’s bad bad when even his team supports your borderline public pre-break up crash out nightclub appearance ✋

↳ user6 literally. Respect for Red Bull for not turning a blind eye like they did when Horner was a 💩

maxfanpage the way she hasn’t changed the username yet… do we think they’re getting back together?

↳ f1gossip in what delusional world do you live girlie

user7 Pierre and Kika looking sickeningly good

↳ pierregasly nothing new 🤍

yn_verstappen guys I’ve just realised it’s such a serious post from me but the pics are so unserious im sorry I love you all!! ❤️😭

↳ landonorris you could get away with it if you hadn’t posted the rock fingers where you stole my glasses lmfao muppet

↳ f1wagupdates QUEEN SHIT 👑

↳ ynfanpage mother is an icon fr

[December 21st]

liked by danielricciardo, yn_verstappen and 269,749 others

lando.jpg invited to a Monaco lot friendsmas hosted by yn_verstappen before we all head different directions for Xmas, good friends and good drinks (why isn’t there a mistletoe emoji) 🎅🏼

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danielricciardo Martha Stewart wishes her table looked this good

→ yn_verstappen you're a sweetheart

→ user1 sigh. They'd be perfect

→ user2 hahahaha l'm cackling imagine after Max's idiocy she runs off with Daniel?!

maxfewtrell no pics of food because you ate nothing but roast potatoes and pigs in blankets like a 2 year old… I loved the food

↳ yn_verstappen as long as someone did!! ❤️

↳ maxfewtrell leftover bag didn’t last long

yn_verstappen surrounded by all of my most amazing friends, having the best time (:

user3 yn making so many amazing friends because of max and them being on her team afterwards is so special for my soul

↳ lando.jpg ❤️

pietra.pilao she did so good! Pinterest girls are shaking at that second pic tho 😭

user4 seeing Y/N smiling in her Japan pics and here means so much, hopefully it’s not just for the camera?

f1gossip no mistletoe emoji? Sir? Why do you need a mistletoe emoji?

↳ f1gossip WHY IS THE MISTLETOE WORTH MENTIONING IN YOUR POST

↳ user5 omg don’t be weird it was probably just P and Max F 👀

ynfanpage wait who’s gonna post her cooking now that Max is gone 😭 Carry the torch Lando PLS

francisca.cgomes my pretty girl smashed it ❤️

↳ yn_verstappen new tradition?

Twitter replies:

user1 max verstappen when I catch you…

user2 honestly fuck him, she’s the most amazing person and he’s just ruined it all by cheating and making someone else pregnant it’s so fucked up. Nobody deserves to be treated like that, let alone her

maxfanpage to be fair she let herself go in the last year or two 🤐

↳ user3 she’s literally followed him around the world for the past 3 years practically full time helping with his socials and they’ve been married 2 and STILL he does this? She gave him her whole heart and whole life it’s crazyyyy

↳ user4 he really seemed like one of the good ones -_-

f1gossip hopefully she heals from this ❤️

ynfanpage men will really have the whole world and throw it away for nothing

user5 what goes around comes around

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 829,735 others

yn_verstappen Hiya :) just a little serious one right now - wanted to make a statement after a moment of me crying on a livestream has gone viral on multiple platforms. I promise that I’m not the scorned woman that media is painting me to be, just a girl who was cheated on and recovering from that slowly with the support of incredible family and friends and the fans who sympathise with my situation.

I feel betrayed immeasurably by my ex-partner but equally by the woman who he had an affair with and the manner in which she exposed the truth. It hurt me massively to know that the public found out before I had and I’m still reeling from it a few weeks later, it’ll take a while to recover from. It’s been a big change, living alone, cooking for one, no longer feeding the cats as part of my wake-up routine - nothing a dramatic hair change won’t fix, clearly. Hopefully you enjoy the black and white! It’s a tough one but we’ll be alright won’t we, my loves? Thanks for listening and understanding 🩷

Please don’t send any hate to the other parties involved or the child that’s involved. I hope they have a safe pregnancy journey and an easy birth - I won’t be speaking out about this again.

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liked by redbullracing, sergioperez and 2M others

maxverstappen1 Merry Christmas everyone 🎄

tagged: kellypiquet

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f1wagupdates You really said “family who?” and posted this like it’s not the messiest thing to happen at house of RB in 2024 and that’s saying a lot 😵‍💫

kellypiquetfan where’s P? :)

redbullracing congratulations again and merry Christmas world champion!

victoriaverstappen Max pls don’t post things like this right now, please call me

kellypiquet so beautiful together, I love you ❤️

↳ maxverstappen1 👼🏻

↳ yn_verstappen I’m sorry but who the fuck even are you

↳ user1 that’s so disgusting honestly they don’t even care about how public they’re being after what he’s done

ynfanpage Two weeks after walking out on your wife and you’re cradling this? You must be exhausted from the speedrun 🤡

user2 bold of you to hard launch your mistress again as if we forgot you were married LAST FUCKING PAYCHECK

danielricciardo mate cmon, bit of decorum wouldn’t go amiss just now

comments on this post have been limited

liked by landonorris, yukitsunoda, maxverstappen1 and 694,627 others

yn_verstappen he’s not the only one with a new baby, Peanut says merry Christmas! ❤️

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f1gossip the username that’s still unchanged is making people question you girlie…. 🫡

↳ user1 it was her whole brand for years so don’t pressure her to change it, that’s so weird. She might keep the name??

user2 aesthetic queen

ynfanpage some people lose their diamond because they’re too busy playing with rocks. Remember that beautiful girl!! :)

francisca.cgomes serving hohoho while he serves hoe hoe hoe 💅🏼

user3 you got me in the divorce honestly

landonorris those cinnamon buns look unreal, save me some 🙏🏼

maxverstappen1 merry Christmas schatje ❤️

user4 the fact that Cheatstappen would never let her get a dog and now she has one heals my soul fr

f1wagupdates Breakups suck, but girl - Santa’s got something way better in store for you next year 😉🎅

↳ yn_verstappen fr girl all my shit is crossed

↳ landonorris *insert mistletoe emoji*

user5 glowing like a Christmas starrrr ⭐️

danielricciardo Home Alone is the best Christmas movie, what a winner

↳ yn_verstappen they don’t have The Grinch on Netflix soooo 👀

↳ danielricciardo ick gtfo

↳ yn_verstappen ouch where did your media training go Sir?

ynfriend gang shit with the girls

albonpets let’s have a playdate with Peanut soon!

↳ roscoelovescoco invites me? :)

liked by yn_verstappen, landonorris, f1gossip and 9,263 others

f1wagupdates a fan posted a selfie of herself with newly ex-wag yn_verstappen earlier this evening, the fan says that yn was in the Monaco harbour area walking her new dog Peanut and was wearing unreleased Quadrant merch!! Am I the only one lowkey shipping YNLando again…? Welcome back, queen - even if you’re not a WAG anymore, we’ve missed that pretty smile and seeing you so happy! 🧡

tagged: yn_verstappen, fanpictured

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f1gossip YNLando truthers RISE!!! This is absolutely not a drill anymore!! 🚨🚨

user1 Somewhere Lando’s checking the comments like 👀👀👀

↳ user2 max fumbled his bag so hard fr

↳ user3 honestly can you imagine Max if she ended up with the person who nearly took his championship away lmfaoooo YES

↳ user1 that would be queen behaviour. The only homie hopping we support 🙏🏼

f1gossip how did she get so much prettier with the breakup though

↳ f1gossip Lando needs to snatch her up rn

↳ f1wagupdates I agree sm but at the same time it’s been two weeks, she’s gonna be in her single era forever I feel like

user4 I don’t think her face card has ever declined ever

yn_verstappen was so lovely to run into such a lovely fan! Thanks for the ongoing support ❤️

[February 2nd - a few weeks on]

liked by danielricciardo, scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 1.6M others

yn_surname new year, new plans, new jobs. Went dark for a little bit but fast cars are back in a month and a bit so here’s a little from a cheeky campaign recently, get over your ex by getting under his rival (‘s car) ;) fuck we look sexy!! Hmu for a sexy mechanic Roleplay ig?

tagged: zhouguanyu, scuderiaferrari

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carlossainz55 🌶️

maxverstappen1 delete that caption immediately

landonorris holy fucking shit you’ve collaboratively broken the internet, put your clothes on omg

↳ yn_surname pick your jaw up immediately before it gets stuck that way

↳ landonorris you leave it there permanently ;)

user1 call you? I need the number girl 🤤

f1gossip She said get over your ex by getting under his rival’s car and I FELT THAT 😭🔥

f1wagupdates SHE FINALLY CHANGED THE USER!

user2 mommy?

arthurleclerc you’ve got my number 😍

ynfanpage honestly the car isn’t the only thing overheating rn 🫠🧯

↳ yn_surname you’re making me blush!!!

↳ user3 I’d rather make your thighs shake babe

↳ ynfanpage dude ew wtf stop

↳ user4 lmao that’s just Lando on his second account don’t mind him liked by yn_surname

francisca.cgomes if my mechanic looked like this…

danielricciardo “Sexy mechanic roleplay” wanna make it clear that I’m free Tuesday AND mostly emotionally available 😭

↳ yn_surname mostly 🫠

user5 so sexy

zhouguanyu it was so much fun to work with you, it’s like my pictures don’t even exist! 😂

↳ yn_verstappen don’t even, those biceps were making me melt all day i swearrrr

↳ f1gossip justice for Joe! 💯

isackhadjar It’s the Calvin waistband, the dirty hands, the eye contact - I’m unwell 🧎‍♀️

↳ yn_surname such a sweetheart ❤️

scuderiaferrari some same comeback but we say takeover! Ferrari merch has never looked so good!

charlesleclerc Alex is hyperventilating pls leave my gf alone, she’s all I have 😭❤️

liked by maxfewtrell, yn_surname, maxverstappen1 and 1.4M others

landonorris sun & things 🌞

tagged: yn_surname, maxfewtrell and 2 others

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user1 She really said ‘soft launch the rebound’ 😭

↳ user2 how could she possibly be when this is literally Lando’s account tho

maxfanpage she’s acting like such a slut though

↳ landonorris blocked this user

f1wagupdates I thought they were just friends… but now I’m doubting everything, that’s such a bf photographer coded pic of her honestly

user3 nobody’s ready to hear me when I say she never stepped out with max without make up, speaks volumes about lando and her friendship w him and I love that for them both

mclaren make sensible choices! 🧡

landofanpage he may not have been 2024 champion but he’s got the champions girl on his arm lmfao

carlossainz55 Rebe and I were here, looks like paradise!

f1gossip max VERSTAPPEN in the likes 👁️ 👄 👁️

yn_surname my favourite golden retriever 🐕

↳ landonorris walk me like a dog idgaf

↳ danielricciardo lmfao relatable

↳ mclaren PR jail, both of you.

↳ danielricciardo not anymore mclaren ✋

↳ danielricciardo barking for you yn_surname

f1wagupdates stop imagine she’s actually gonna just be a wag again at the start of the new season

user4 what in the winter love island why are they all so sexy

user5 lando really said fuck your championship I have your wife

↳ user6 I’m so confused, were they always this close? They never posted like this when she was with max?

↳ user5 they’ve always been close but probs just never posted bc of max but honestly it’s nice to see them so close again

pietra.pilao 🐬🪼🦋🌎

user7 she’s getting half naked for Ferrari and now for Lando wow, Max dodged a bullet

Lando or Daniel as endgame? Vote here please!

@freyathehuntress @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @onlydeadcells @strawb3heart @raynetargaryan2 @d3kstar @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @mimisweetz @piston-cup @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @gandalfthegoatsblog @a-library-ofmy-own @lando-505 @okdokeygryssel63 @esw1012 @loveitwhenhelies @chaoswithus @dontsupressthejess @ravyn94 @bowielovesyou @mayax2o07 @remussbitch