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motorsportbarbie13 · 7 months ago

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The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 3

In which you and Max spend the next six months just being obsessed with each other.

Warnings: A little angst, but not 'break up with you' angst, just 'i really fucking miss you' angst so it's okay. And fluff. Tooth achingly sweet fluff. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 4.4k plus a shit ton of social media posts. - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - Master List

(a/n before we begin: Probably one more part to this. Thinking of doing an 'after Max gets you back to the hotel post-race' part to wrap things up nicely if anyone wants to see that.)

Monaco May 2024

F1GossipOfficial posted

34,028 likes F1GossipOfficial Seems as if our favorite Red Bull driver and sunny little podcaster are getting closer! The pair was spotted around Monaco this week ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix. The pair have been seen publicly a handful of times since Max made an appearance on her podcast The Yapping Hour in late April, most notably at the Miami Grand Prix at the beginning of the month and then the week later in New York City where she is based. Everyone who sent in photos said the pair were super cozy and seemed lost in their own world. user0299 she's only with him for the clout and money. Her little podcast was dying out and she latched onto Max like a leech. >>>user5572 go touch some grass my man. Her podcast is consistently the number 1 listened to show on all platforms all the fucking time. user9938 they are so cute, i can't handle it user4530 I saw them at dinner the other night and oh my GOD. They sat on the same side of the table even though it was just the two of them. He held her hand underneath the table all through dinner and I don't think either of them stopped smiling or looked anywhere else but at each other the entire night. >>>user39948 they are so fucking perfect oml

Canada June 2024 yourpersonalinsta posted

493,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, totowolff, and others yourpersonalinsta Over the moon to have been able to be with you for this win in Canada, Maxie. user299 MAXIE?! I have no one to talk to about this redbullracing our good luck charm strikes again! >>>user456 Red Bull calling her theirs??? Love this for her. maxverstsppen1 thank you for always being in my corner liefje ❤️ >>>user394 how am i supposed to be normal after reading this??? user8827 Not Toto in the likes trying to get on her good side so Max signs with Merc in 2026 >>>user778 HAHA can you imagine??

Amalfi Coast August 2024

maxverstappen1 posted

987,409 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1 summer break with this gorgeous girl user458 they are my royal couple yourpersonalinsta wishing we were back on that boat rn instead of on different continents :( >>>maxverstappen1 just a few more weeks until Singapore, schatje. >>>user4938 this is my roman empire >>>user024 mom and dad are sad so i am sad too

October 2024 Austin, Texas

You hadn't seen Max in over three weeks. Three very, very, very long weeks. And not to be dramatic or anything but you felt like you might actually pass away if the Uber that was currently picking it's way through very heavy Austin traffic drove any slower.

While the sleek Mercedes SUV waited at a red light, your gaze drifted away from the navigation system showing the the heavy traffic all around you towards the busy city streets around you. Whoever had decided to schedule an Eminem concert, a huge college rivalry football game, and a Formula 1 race all in the same city on the same weekend should have their head examined.

Fixated on the crowd on the sidewalk outside, you mull over the last six months of your life. It has certainly been a whirlwind, that was for sure. If someone had told you back in the beginning of May that you'd be on your way to your sixth Grand Prix of the year to watch your boyfriend race in Formula 1, you would have laughed in their faces. Because really, when you sat back and considered it, the fact that you had gone from being a fan of the sport and interviewing Max on a professional level to dating him in under six months was absolutely wild.

While you attended races whenever you could, you found yourself more often than not called to the other side of the world to attend to your flourishing career. In the last six months you had ping ponged around the globe, bouncing between weekends with Max and over scheduled weeks filled with work, interviews, and meetings. Some days you just wished that things were simpler and you could just dedicate yourself to following Max around from city to city but you knew that Susan B Anthony would roll over in her grave if you gave up everything for a man so quickly, even a man as amazing as Max Verstappen.

You brush aside the thought of leaving your work because in the end, all that is is a simple fantasy brought on by you missing the man that has become the center of your universe lately.

After attending the Singapore GP with Max, you had spent a few extra days with him in Asia before needing to fly home. While Max did have nearly an entire month break from racing, he couldn't follow you to New York like he had intended. After coming back from the summer break, Max's luck had started to slip and the car had deteriorated. He hadn't won a race in months, the car was an absolute tractor, and Lando was gaining on him in the Championship. He had needed to spend every extra moment he had in the sims and with the engineering team trying to salvage the season.

While Max had been in Europe, you had been in the US recording episodes with Heidi Klum, Wayne Gretzky, and finally Kylie Kelce. Heidi had been in LA, Wayne in Florida, and Kylie in Philly so you had spent most of the last three weeks on the road. As the SUV inched closer to the COTA track, you realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd set foot in your apartment.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the realization washes over you. You loved the life you lived, wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes, in these quiet moments you wished for a break, a chance to go home, wherever that even was now, and just rest.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulls you back to the present. Ysou struggle to shake off the mind numbing melancholy that's settled over you like a thick woolen blanket before answering the call. "Hi baby." You sigh, knowing who it is without even looking at the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Max's voice is sharp on the other end, effortlessly reading your tone.

You shake your head, chest tightening with anxiety. "Just..." You search for the right words. "tired is all. I just realized I can't even remember the last time I spent a night in my own bed."

"Oh, schatje." Max sighs, knowing how grueling this schedule is as he lives it as well. "Do you want me to have the jet take you home? It's at the airfield still."

Tears collect in your eyes as your chest squeezes painfully. "No, I just want to see you." You whisper, afraid if you raise your voice you'll start to cry.

"How far are you from the track?"

You pop your head around the SUV's headrest to check the nav system. "Not long. Five minutes. I can see the giant observation tower from here."

"Have the Uber bring you right to the paddock gates. I have a car here and a few hours before any media duties. I'll take you back to the hotel myself and we can take a nap together, okay?"

Your entire body sags with relief at his words. If there was one thing that Max was good at, it was taking care of you. He didn't hem and haw or waver on a plan of action. He saw what you needed and made sure that you were taken care of. The way the burden of everything that you had silently carried for years shifted towards Max the moment you landed in Miami all those months ago was something that would shock you for years to come.

"Okay." You whisper, swiping at a single tear that managed to escape.

You have a few moments to collect yourself before the Uber stops at the entrance to the paddock. From your seat in the back, you spot a familiar blonde head that belonged to your Dutch boyfriend waiting for you. You're suddenly simultaneously bursting with excitement and beside yourself with grief as the anxiety that has gnawed at you over the last 24 hours fully consumes you at the mere sight of Max.

Max has you out of the car and into his arms before you can barely catch your breath. The moment you inhale that uniquely Max scent something inside you shifts and becomes crystal clear. You didn't need Max to have his jet take you home because you already were home. It sounded cliche in your head and it probably was, but you knew there was some truth to it: somewhere over the last six months your home had shifted away from your apartment in New York to wherever Max was.

Max tightens his grip around your waist, settling his chin on your head while you stay buried deep in his neck, you realize that home isn't a place any longer. Home is a person now and Max is that person. You don't have to go home to New York to rest, you just have to be in Max's presence. With him, you are utterly and completely safe and secure. For someone who spends 99% of her time 'on' and performing, being able to come home to Max and just switch it all off, allowing him to lead and take over, is the most powerful form of rest you could have ever dreamt of.

Max nods at the driver as he unloads your luggage, arms still locked tight around you. He can feel you melt into him, like you've been waiting for this moment since the last time you saw him. He knows that for him at least, this is true. Everything else in his life is completley falling apart. The car sucks, they had to ditch the special livery for this weekend becuase the fucking paint had the potential to make the car too heavy and slow. Lando has been on a tear lately, that McLaren a complete rocket ship and the only reason Lando hasn't overtaken him in the championship is thanks to some spectacularly shitty calls from the McLaren pit wall.

The only bright spot in Max's day is you. Your voice, your touch, your face. Any bit of you he gets on a daily basis is what keeps him going right now. As he had stood on the curb just moments before, desperately and not so patiently waiting while watching the black Mercedes SUV creep down the street towards him, it had felt like cruel and unusual punishment after being apart from you for so long.

And now? Now you were back in his arms and he drew in the longest breath he could, taking in the scent of your perfume and laundry soap that he had missed so keenly while he'd been working, and he simply couldn't get enough.

Max pulls away slightly, so he can see your pretty face but what he sees in your eyes nearly breaks him. Pain and longing hang heavy in your eyes and there is nothing Max wouldn't do to make all of that go away for you. Fingers tip your chin up towards him so he can finally get his lips on yours, a soft sigh escaping your mouth when he makes that first contact.

You swear it's like a cool drink of water in the middle of a humid heatwave in July, the way Max kisses you with such relief and passion and affection. Like he's trying to tell you through his kiss how much he adores you, how much he's missed you, how much he craves you.

"I love you." Are the first words he says to you and your breath catches in your throat. It isn't the first time he's said those words, Max had said them first all those months back when he brought you home to Monaco. It had been quick, probably too quick by the world's standards, but it just clicked between the two of you and the words had tumbled out of Max like it was the most natural thing in the world. The reason the words had your breath catching in your chest was because of the ferocity behind them, like he could tell how bone tired you were from all the travel over the last few months and he was desperate to remind you why you were doing all of this. Why the two of you were doing all of this together and apart. It was for moments like this, moments where you were attached to each other in the middle of the busy paddock parking lot like no one else existed.

"I love you too, Max." You whisper, dusting your lips over the stubble that was scattered over his jaw. "Can we go take a nap now? I'm so tired."

yourpersonalinsta posted

348,209 likes liked by kyliekelce, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta home is wherever you are (tagged: maxverstappen1) user098 mad max is no more, there is only soft cuddly boyfie max user0399 this is the cutest thing i've ever seen user000 god i am so single maxverstappen1 love you baby >>>danielricciardo SIMP >>>maxverstappen1 absolutely >>>user9938 it kills me that he is loves her so boldly and loudly. girl hit the mfing jackpot. (liked by author)

It's not your alarm that fully wakes you up on Friday morning. It isn't Max's either. But as you try to untangle your limbs from Max's and search for the source of the ringing, you can't help but curse whoever is interrupting the slow sleepy cuddles that had been progressing into something more heated for the past 20 minutes.

You nearly spit you're so mad when you see the caller ID.

"John." You growl, sitting up in bed as Max settles himself back against the mountain of pillows beside you. "It is 8 in the morning on a Friday the day after I saw my boyfriend for the first time in over three weeks. I swear on all things good and holy, this had better be good."

John, to his credit, didn't even scoff at the threat. He'd been your business manager for going on four years now and was used to your early morning attitudes.

"She said yes."

You sit up, back going ramrod straight as the three words clang through you. "What?" You hiss.

Beside you, Max struggles to sit up too, alarm coursing through him at the panic in your voice.

"Tree just called me five minutes ago. Said that Kylie had sent her the episode and wouldn't stop gushing about how amazing you were and how you were the perfect person to do this interview on the end of the tour and everything. Tree said Taylor watched your episode with Michelle and Queen Maxima too, said they were the best interviews she's ever seen. Everything is a go."

Your entire world tilts as what John is telling you fully sinks in. "Taylor Swift's agreed to come on the show?" You voice is weak, heavy under the weight of the news John is telling you. Your hands tremble at the thought of what this means for you. For your career.

Beside you, Max sucks in a breath at your sentence, fully aware of how big of a moment this is for you. Pride soars through him as he watches literal sunshine dance across your face, your smile as bright as the Texas morning light. "Schatje." He whispers, pulling your free hand towards his lips. Your eyes dart over to him and you grin at him, kicking your feet a little, completely unable to hide your excitement.

"She also said yes to your suggestion of a behind the scenes vlog on your channel ahead of the release of the episode. Thought the idea was marketing gold. You've got full access to everything for the entire week."

Before you had landed Kylie Kelce on the show, you and John had made a silly, pie in the sky request to Tree Paine not even thinking that it would go anywhere. When Kylie had agreed to do an episode, a request that had actually been made to her people months before John had contacted Tree, the idea of maybe, just maybe you might be able to land Taylor after had grown a bit. You hadn't told anyone of the request, not even Max, because you didn't want to be embarrassed if it didn't work out.

"There's only one problem." Your heart stops and you grip at Max's hand for support. You knew there had to be a catch. "They want you in Toronto by Sunday."

"Wh-what?" Your stomach plummets through the floor. You had just gotten to Austin last night and now you were going to have to leave again? You were supposed to spend the entire triple header with Max. Three weeks of solid time with him had been the only thing getting you through the previous three week separation. You two had even planned to go visit your parents in Michigan between Austin and Mexico later next week.

"The first concert is Monday and Tree wants you to get as much content as you can and has asked you be there at 9am Monday morning."

You head spins. "Oh-okay." There's a giant Max shaped hole in your heart at what you have to agree to, simply exhausted by the fact that you're going to have to pick up and leave again so soon. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

"Do you want me to have Shannon make flight arrangements?"

You glance over at Max, who senses your apprehension. "Let me talk through it with Max and see what we can figure out. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Sounds good. Congratulations, kiddo. This is huge."

You smile despite yourself, excitement and anxiety winding their way through your chest making it a little hard to breathe. "Bye John."

You gently place your phone back on the bedside table before turning to Max, bracing yourself for the good and bad news you have to deliver.

"The beginning of that call looked phenomenal but now you look like you're going to be sick." Max observes, pulling you into his lap.

You shudder against when his lips graze your neck, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Taylor Swift agreed to come on the show and to let me do a weeks worth of behind the scenes of her Toronto shows."

"Baby, that is amazing. This is going to be huge for you and the show!"

You nod, a bit dazed by all of this information you have to process. "But they want me there by Sunday night so I can start first thing Monday." Sadness edges into your voice, the dread of having to leave Max again begins to sink in fully.

"When should Greg have the jet ready to take off then? You'll probably want to leave before the end of the race to beat traffic, yeah? Although I suppose we could find you a helicopter to take you from the track to the airport."

You stare at Max like he's grown three heads. His voice is so nonchalant despite him suggesting he rent you a helicopter that all you can do is blink at him for a few moments. "Just...just like that? You're on board with it? You're not upset?"

Max scoffs, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms go tighter around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Why would I be upset? I'll do anything I can to help you live out this dream, schatje. You know that. This is the biggest thing to happen to your career since you had F1 racing legend Max Verstappen as a guest."

The giggle that tumbles out of you has the tension in the room popping like a soap bubble. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." Max finds your lips then, the kiss full of reassurance and confidence. Of course he was disappointed you were going to be leaving in 2 days and he wasn't sure when you'd be back with him but this opportunity was too good to miss. "I'd never forgive myself if you missed spending a week doing what you love with one of your favorite artists because of me. Of course I'll miss you but you need to do this. So tell me, when should I have the jet ready to get you to Toronto?"

yourpersonalinsta story post

story replies: user8882 ARE YOU THERE FOR ERAS TOUR??? user029 what are you up to ma'am??? user837 wait. first kylie's on the show and now you're in Toronto the same week as Taylor. ARE WE GETTING A TAYLOR EPISODE OH MY GOD.

TheYappingHour posted

876,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux, and others theyappinghour Toronto, you were stunning! Can anyone guess who our next guest on the show is going to be??? Behind the scenes vlog dropping next week ahead of a very very special two part episode set to drop later this month. user928 oh my god, everyone stay calm, it's happening. user020 IS THIS FOR REAL??? I will never recover maxverstappen1 so proud of you my love >>>yourpersonalinsta couldn't do it without you, maxie >>>user928 if there's one thing Max is going to be, it's the first one in the likes and comments on anything his girl does. (liked by yourpersonalinsta) >>>user0298 may this kind of love find me one day

Excerpt from Episode 59 of The Yapping Hour featuring Taylor Swift:

You: Speaking of what you do in your down time, can we talk about how supportive you are of your boyfriend and show up for him despite the Brad's and Chad's hating every second of it?

Taylor: It's so silly to me, how much everyone hates it. When I show up at the game, I'm just like every other significant other. I'm not there to take the spotlight away from anyone, I just want to watch my man play!

You: Oh my God, I totally get it. It's so strange to me the way some fans can't handle someone like you who has a whole other identity outside of who you're dating, showing up to support the person you love.

Taylor: It's like, relax! I'm just here to watch my boyfriend catch a ball!

You: Right? Just let me enjoy watching 20 cars drive around in circles in peace please!

Taylor: You two are so cute though. Trav was watching the race in Monaco a few months back, right after he invested in Alpine, and there was that one shot of you and Max after the end of the race in his garage and you were giving him a hug. I love how loudly you love him and how public he is about you. It's refreshing.

You: Oh gosh, thank you. Yes, he is so supportive of everything I do, just like Travis is. It's such a comfort, isn't it? *Taylor nods* He actually stayed in Austin an extra day so I could use his jet to come up here.

Taylor: Trav was supposed to go to that race but got caught up in training stuff. It looked like so much fun.

You: Have you ever been to a race? Either of you?

Taylor: I haven't but Travis went to the Las Vegas race last year. Said it was the one of the biggest parties he'd ever been to.

You: You'll have to come this year then! It's in a few weeks!

Taylor: I'll talk to Trav and see if we can make it happen.

TheYappingHour posted

1,039,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, kikagomes, and others theyappinghour What an absolute whirlwind of a week and a half. Spending time with your favorite artist, seeing her in her element, and then spending a few hours talking about everything from what it's like to live such a public life to how important it is to have a supportive significant other. I simply can't wait to share the behind the scenes vlog dropping at the end of this week and then the episode later this month. Taylor, you are a dream of a human being and we are so happy to have had this opportunity. Can't wait to see you and Travis at a race! taylorswift You are such a sweetheart! So glad we got to spend time together this past week! Can't wait to hear the episode my love! kikagomes how does it feel to live my dreammmm bestie??? >>>yourpersonalinsta kiks omg i will never recover from this!! maxverstappen1 Proud of you, as always lifeje. >>>yourpersonalinsta can't wait to see you so so so soon baby

"And he doesn't expect a thing?" You glance up at the ticket counter where the airline employee has begun to call first class. You stand, phone still pressed to your ear, pulling your carry on behind you.

"Nope!" On the other end, Max's PR manager Sophie giggles conspiratorially. "He was just complaining to GP ten minutes ago how he couldn't believe they didn't have more flights from Sao Paulo to Paris. He said he was considering upgrading his jet to one with longer range so he could fly private next time."

You roll your eyes but chuckle. If you were a drama queen, your boyfriend could be the drama king to match sometimes. Although you didn't blame him to be quite honest. After leaving Austin mid way through the race, you had missed the Mexico race entirely. The plan had been for you to fly down to Brazil for the Sao Paulo race but editing and press had taken much longer than you had anticipated so now it was Saturday night and you were boarding a 9 hour flight from New York to the South American country.

Only, Max didn't know that. Max thought you were getting on a flight to Nice via Paris before driving to Monaco where he'd meet you sometime late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. Joke was on him though, you had finished everything up and had called Sophie for help to get you down to Brazil just in time for Sunday's race.

"He's such a baby." You murmur as the flight attendant leads you to your seat.

"He is beside himself missing you." Sophie says and you can hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure I'm around when he sees you for the firs time, okay? He's going to lose it."

Laughing, you hoist your suitcase into the overhead bin before settling down in the luxurious lie flat seat that will be your bed for the next nine hours. If everything goes right, you'll land in Brazil just as the postponed qualifying is finishing up and will be able to watch the entire race in person.

"Thank you for helping coordinate this, Soph. I really appreciate it."

"Anything to get Max out of this slump he's in!" She replies brightly.

A few minutes later, you hang up the phone and type out a quick text letting Max know you're boarding the flight. Luckily, the flight from New York to Paris is roughly the same time as the flight to Sao Paulo so he doesn't bat an eye when you tell him you'll be unreachable, only telling you that the doorman to his building is expecting you and to make yourself at home in his apartment in Monaco when you get there before he does.

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

It is absolutely raining cats and dogs when the car Sophie hired pulls into the track after what feels like a lifetime of travel. Right after they served dinner on your flight, you took a sleeping pill and passed out for the duration of the flight, only waking up once the pilot turned on the overhead lights, signaling your arrival.

A quick text to Sophie alerts her to your arrival and she says she'll come and meet you outside the paddock with an extra umbrella. The driver that picked you up from the airport will take your luggage to the hotel where Max and the team are staying. When the car stops in front of the paddock gates, you spot Sophie immediately.

"Soph!!" You shout the moment you stumble out of the car, limbs a little stiff from the long car ride. Sao Paulo traffic is a beast in the best of weather but in a downpour like this? Nightmarish.

Sophie opens her arms to embrace you, "Oh I am so glad you're here. He is an absolute nightmare right now."

You grimace, knowing exactly why. He'd be starting P17 in a few hours. Between the team having got caught behind a red flag during Q2 and his 5 place grid penalty, it was a nightmare scenario for Max. All of this was compounded by Lando's win in the sprint yesterday and the fact that he was starting on pole today.

"Alright then, lets go. Maybe I can talk him down off a ledge before the race starts."

Sophie grins because she knows you'll be able to do just that. If there was anyone who could calm Mad Max down and bring him back to earth after the kind of morning the team had had today, it was you.

As you weave your way through the crowded paddock, the heavy rain simply not a deterrent to anyone at the track today, Max is in the garage considering the merits of scratching his eyeballs out so that he doesn't have to run this fucking race today. Everything is wrong. The car is terrible. Still. The FIA seemed to have a hard on for fucking up his weekend. Lando was on poll. And worst of all, he really fucking missed you. There was still several days between him and being reunited with you but if he could have just walked right out of the paddock and onto a plane to get to wherever you were in that moment, he would have. The only thing that seemed to settle him during these times lately was your steady presence in the garage. He didn't even need you to say anything, just knowing that you were around, within arms length if he needed you, did something to calm him like nothing else could.

He's talking to GP, actually, he's grumbling at GP when a familiar flash of hair and bright smile catches his eyes. Perfect, he thinks miserably, now I'm imagining her in the garage. I've gone full unhinged obsessed boyfriend, haven't I?

Imagine his shock when he actually hears your voice. "Max." You call out softly, hands clasped in front of you as you wait at the edge of the garage beside Sophie.

Max simply blinks a few times, as if he's trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or if you're really standing in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest when everything finally clicks into place. GP doesn't even bat an eye when Max walks away from him, mid sentence, before crossing the garage in a few short strides.

Max isn't usually one for intense public displays of affection, especailly in the garage and neither are you. There's a level of professionalism he likes to maintain while racing and you have always respected that but when Max sees you standing in front of him, practically drowning in one of his sweatshirts, hair wet and messy from walking through the paddock in the rain, he can't stop himself from scooping you up in his arms. Burying his head in your neck, he inhales deeply. So deeply that his lungs pinch with pain from the way he's trying to commit the way you smell to memory.

"You're here." He murmurs, voice thick and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me in Monaco?"

Max sets you down, not really wanting you out of his arms but wanting to move you to a quieter part of the garage. Behind you, Sophie, GP and the rest of the team discreetly shuffle away to give you two a bit of privacy.

"I knew how hard the last two races were for you and I just..." Pausing, you have to wait for a moment for your hands to stop shaking. You've been running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine for what feels like the last three weeks now and the emotion of the moment catches up to you. "I just wanted to be here for you."

Max lowers his lips to yours, covering them in a kiss that is all longing and white hot heat. He keeps the kiss just this side of tame enough for the garage, not wanting to draw the ire of Christian but he had needed to taste you then. His hand comes up to cup your face while the other slips around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body. He's slightly damp from how wet it's been this morning but none of that matters now that you're back in his arms.

"I missed you so much." He murmurs, blue eyes practially sparkling down at you, he's so happy. It's been weeks since he's felt like this. Settled. Like he can take on the world. For the first time in what feels like forever, Max has a sense of determination that wraps itself around him. Like the championship isn't all but lost to Lando. Like the car isn't going to be terrible today, even though he might not even finish in the points. Like everything he's gone through the past few months on the track is all about to end because you're finally here and if anyone can bring the team luck, it's you.

"I love you." You whisper into his chest. "Now, let's go show the world why you're about to become a 4 time world champion, yeah?"

And that's exactly what he does.

yourpersonalinsta posted

938,398 likes liked by redbullracing, taylorswift, yourdad and others yourpersonalinsta we are SO back, baby!!! What started out as a nightmare of a day turned into a generational drive for the history books. P17 to P1 and I cannot believe I was there to witness it. Max, I am proud of you beyond words. You and the entire team deserve this win today. I love you to the moon and back, Maxie. (tagged: maxverstappen1) taylorswift what a race! Trav and I caught most of it before the game today. Congratulations!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta hope to see you in Vegas in a couple of weeks! >>>user928 oh my god, new bestie duo unlocked!? maxverstappen1 words fail to describe how much I love you baby. Thank you for always being in my corner and never giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself. Love you to the ends of time, schatje >>>user928 i am SOBBING. Boyfriend Max is my favorite Max.

Tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 fluff #formula one fluff

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pitlanepeach · 19 days ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Three

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, so much fluff, strong language

Notes — This is a long one, so grab a snack and send me your thoughts afterwards! I'd love to chat about our favourite Norris'.

2023 (Qatar —Brazil)

Somewhere just outside Milan, on a golf course a little too sunny and a little too posh, Amelia was exactly where she didn’t want to be — but wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

She was reclined awkwardly in the shade of the golf cart, legs folded beneath her, sunglasses perched high on her nose, and an iced coffee sweating on the dashboard beside her. Her phone was in one hand, but she hadn’t looked at it in twenty minutes — not since Oscar had taken his second swing of the day and nearly decapitated a green shrub.

Lando stood at the tee in a white polo and beige shorts that she’d ironed for him that morning, right after threatening to dump them in the villa’s pool if he left them all crumpled on the floor again. He adjusted his grip with unnecessary flair, smirked at Oscar, then lined up for the next hole like it was Sunday at Augusta.

Amelia watched with a lazy smile.

“I am incredibly bored,” she called, not bothering to move. Her voice was flat, deadpan. The kind of tone that could mean anything — annoyed or fond or quietly amused.

Lando glanced back over his shoulder, grin sharp. “Just think about the nice tan you’ll get, baby! Lots of vitamin D!”

Damn him and his awareness of her vitamin D deficiency anxiety. Her specialist had said she was borderline again after Austria and ever since, Lando had taken every opportunity to drag her into the sun like she was a bloody houseplant. She didn’t mind. Not really. But she liked to pretend to mind, just to see the little grin he gave when he knew she was pretending—being playful.

Oscar, standing ten metres away and swearing under his breath about a divot, shook his head. “Amelia, you literally planned this.” He looked at Lando. “Like, she literally booked the tee time. And now she’s complaining?”

Lando’s grin widened. “Because she loves me.”

“I do,” Amelia sighed, leaning further back in the seat. “Unfortunately.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up here — but it was a victory celebration that she’d come up with after their double podium in Japan.

Lando loved golf with a level of passion Amelia could only describe as dangerous. Oscar was… trying his best. And Amelia?

Well, she liked watching.

Not the game, exactly. But them. Lando, focused and fluid and maybe a little smug. Oscar, messy and determined and weirdly graceful even in failure. The two of them chirping at each other between swings, betting stupid things on who could land closer to the pin — the loser having to make the others smoothies for the next three race weekends. (Amelia was very invested in who won that one; Oscar’s smoothies always tasted like grass—then again, Lando’s weren’t much better.)

And every so often, one of them would glance back at her. Just to check. Just to make sure she was still smiling, or sipping her drink, or willing to give them a thumbs-up from her perch in the cart. She didn’t have to say much — they always knew when she needed a break from noise or heat, or when to dial it back on the loud bickering if she was getting overwhelmed.

That was the nice thing about being known; and seen.

Oscar swung again. The ball shot off at a violently wrong angle, bounced twice on a paved path, and disappeared into a hedge.

There was silence.

Amelia winced. “You’re getting better!” She attempted.

“I hate this game,” Oscar muttered, trudging off after his ball.

“You said it would be fun,” Lando reminded him.

“I was lying.”

Amelia tucked her chin into her shoulder to stifle her laugh. Lando finished his own swing — smooth, effortless — and then jogged back toward the cart with that little bounce in his step he always got when he was pleased with himself.

“Did you see that?” He asked, bending slightly to meet her eyes.

She blinked up at him behind her sunglasses. “You’re very talented.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That was sarcasm.”

“No. I swear. I’m so incredibly impressed by your ability to hit a little white ball hundreds of meters away and then having to run to go and get it — its like you’re playing fetch with yourself. It’s endearing.”

Lando snorted. “You’re such a supportive golf wife.”

Amelia nodded solemnly, her lips twitching. “I know. You’d be so lost without me here to cheer you on.”

Oscar wandered back from the hedge, ball retrieved, some small twigs in his hair. “Are we getting food after this?”

Lando offered him a bottle of water from the cooler. “Depends. Are you going to finish a single hole under ten shots?”

Oscar drank half the bottle in one go, then gave a deeply unbothered shrug. “Probably not.”

Amelia leaned her head back against the seat and smiled, letting the sun brush her cheeks. This — the warmth, the jokes, the sheer absurdity of two F1 drivers whacking balls into oblivion on a golf course while she heckled from the sidelines — was exactly the kind of celebration she liked.

Not loud. Not flashy.

And as Lando walked to the next tee box, she slipped a hand into her pocket and curled her fingers around the worn, yellow golf ball she kept there.

The original.

It had been their first date, if you could even call it that, back when everything was still a terribly-kept secret. Before she’d joined Red Bull and Lando was a rookie, and no one knew how many nights he’d driven out to Oxford just to spend time with her.

He’d taken her to a golf course in Surrey. Not posh. Not fancy. Quiet enough to remain private. Lando had grinned the whole time, letting her sit in the cart, tossing her snacks like they were bribes. At some point, he’d handed her a yellow golf ball and said, “This one’s lucky. Keep it.”

She had.

She’d held it in her hand through simulator tests and race briefings and long-haul flights when the cabin lights were too bright. She kept it on her desk at the MTC now. Sometimes in her pocket.

Today, it was both comfort and talisman.

“Hey,” Lando said, reaching into the cart’s storage bin. “Got you something.”

She turned, and he tossed her another golf ball — same shade of yellow, brand new.

Her mouth twitched. “A replacement?”

“An expansion,” he said, crouching beside the cart. “New memory.”

Amelia reached into her pocket and held up the original.

The difference between them was obvious. One was scratched, smoothed from years of anxious handling. The other gleamed in the sun like a lemon drop.

“No replacement,” she murmured, brushing a thumb over the old one’s surface. “This one’s forever.”

Lando’s eyes softened. “You want to keep it?”

“Yeah. You gave it to me.”

Oscar walked past, grumbling something about sand traps, and muttered without looking, “God, you two are so married.”

“We really are,” Amelia agreed, gaze still on the yellow ball in her palm.

Lando leaned in, kissed the top of her head, then tucked the new ball into her drink holder beside the iced coffee. “For the new balcony. We’ll put it in a plant pot.”

Oscar lost another ball on the next hole. Lando birdied the ninth. Amelia stayed in the shade, sipping her coffee, and let her mind wander.

—

A long white table ran the length of the patio, dotted with bowls of olives and carafes of wine, sunflowers in thick glass jars, and one very lopsided chocolate cake that Lando’s mum had proudly made herself. There were candles too — thick ones, flickering despite the breeze — and the scent of grilled vegetables and lemon roasted chicken drifted on the late summer air.

It was Flo’s birthday. Lando’s little sister. The youngest and loudest of the Norris siblings. She’d chosen the playlist, and she’d chosen the theme — which, according to the group chat, was “dressy but casual.”

Lando had interpreted that as white linen and loafers. Amelia had chosen a soft navy dress and her noise-dampening earrings shaped like small silver stars.

Lando reached for her hand as she approached the table, tugging her into his side briefly.

“You okay?” He murmured.

She nodded. Hummed. “Just wanted to wash my hands.”

He smiled, brushing a kiss over her temple. “I’ll sit you close to the good bread.”

True to his word, they slid into seats near the far end of the table — close to the outdoor kitchen, shaded from the worst of the noise. Oscar had already arrived and was sitting cross-legged on a bench, sipping lemonade and chatting with Flo. Lando’s dad was carving meat, and his mum waved cheerfully the moment she spotted Amelia.

“Amelia, darling, come try this courgette thing — I don’t know what I did, but it’s actually edible!”

Lando nudged Amelia’s side with his elbow. “Just give me a look if you need a save.”

Amelia smiled tightly and stepped forward, spooning a small portion onto her plate. “I believe in your courgette abilities.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” his mum said, then touched Amelia’s arm very gently — just fingertips. “You look lovely.”

Amelia didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to. That kind of touch, soft, expected and all very mum-like, was generally fine. She tucked her hair behind her ear and murmured a shy, “Thanks,” before slipping back to her seat and letting Lando press his knee against hers under the table.

She was still learning this, sometimes. New family dynamics. Casual affection. Birthday celebrations that she wasn’t explicitly in charge of. She supposed that she was part of the Norris family now — she even had their last name — but they were still exuberant in a way that sometimes made her chest tight.

And when she did get overwhelmed, too many voices, too much movement, Lando always knew. Always shifted closer. Gave her a little squeeze behind the knee. Changed the subject for her when someone asked a question she wasn’t quite ready to answer.

Now, he passed her a basket of warm bread and whispered, “There’s a little set-up in the kitchen if you need a break, baby.”

“Don’t need it yet,” she said, quietly grateful.

Dinner was lovely, in that charmingly chaotic way that big families managed. Conversations overlapped like sheet music. Lando’s dad was telling a story about Lando’s first karting accident and how he’d tried to bribe the mechanic with stickers to fix the engine faster.

Lando himself was perfectly at ease. His sunglasses were perched in his hair, his cheeks sun-warmed and dimpled from laughter. Every now and then, his hand found Amelia’s beneath the table and just rested there, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.

She didn’t mind the noise when it was like this; soft-edged and loving. Familiar.

Halfway through dessert, Flo leaned across the table and grinned at Amelia.

“So, how does it feel being the only person here who can boss both my brother around?”

Amelia blinked. “Technically, my dad can too.”

Lando snorted. “Zak just thinks he can.”

Amelia took a bite of cake to hide her smile.

Later, when the sun had dipped low and the candles burned brighter than the sky, the group moved to the lounge chairs near the pool. Some of the family peeled away — Lando’s auntie went to put her toddler down for a nap, his older brother disappeared into the house to take a call. But Lando stayed with her. Always with her.

Amelia ended up curled sideways in a chair, her head resting against Lando’s shoulder, his arm slung loosely around her waist. Oscar sat on the patio steps, legs stretched out, gently dunking his feet in the water.

Amelia thought it was nice that Lando’s mum had extended the invitation to Oscar. He spent too much time alone while he was in England.

There was a small yellow flower tucked behind Amelia’s ear — courtesy of Flo, who’d been decorating everyone like it was a midsummer festival. It smelled faintly like lemon balm.

Lando looked down at her and murmured, “You did well today.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You did,” he said softly. “You did, baby.”

She stared at him.

He knew what it cost her, to hold space in her mind for noise and chaos and unstructured celebrations like birthdays and holidays. To make room for people, even people she liked (loved, even), when her energy ran on such strict reserves.

But she’d done it, because this was her family now, and she loved them. “Your mum always makes me feel comfortable,” she said. “And she gave me the recipe for the courgette thing.”

“She texted me earlier asking if you liked the cake. She was sat two chairs away.”

Amelia smiled. “It was very… chocolatey.”

Lando grinned. “That’s your polite way of saying dry?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Beside them, Oscar stretched and yawned. “I give this night a 9 out of 10.”

Lando looked over. “Why not ten?”

“No fireworks,” Oscar said, dead serious.

Amelia frowned. “Don’t give Flo ideas. I hate fireworks.”

Oscar gave her a look. “How do you handle the Middle Eastern races then?”

She made a face. “Industrial grade ear defenders.”

As the laughter rose behind them, cousins chasing each other around the grassy area, Amelia let herself settle. The soft buzz of family. The gentle weight of her husband’s arm. The quiet, private pride that came from navigating something that once would’ve been a big no-no.

She reached into her pocket, thumb brushing absently over the ridged edge of her yellow golf ball. Still there. Still grounding.

Still hers.

—

The kitchen was quiet.

The last of the plates were stacked, the dessert forks rinsed and tucked into the drying rack. Somewhere out in the garden, Lando and Flo were arguing over which card game they were going to play.

Amelia stood barefoot on the cool tile, hair up now, sleeves rolled. She was drying glasses — not because anyone asked her to, but because she needed to be doing something with her hands. Her yellow golf ball sat tucked by the fruit bowl, close enough to reach. Just in case.

Across the counter, Lando’s mum moved with practiced ease. She wore a loose cardigan over her dress now, and her hair had been tucked into a clip, strands slipping free around her face. She handed Amelia another wine glass, careful not to clink them together too loudly.

“I’m so glad you came today, sweetheart,” she said fondly. “It’s always lovely to have you were — I told Lando to warn you that things can get loud on birthdays.”

“He did,” Amelia replied, not looking up from her towel work. “I brought my earplugs. But I’m used to it, now. Thing being a bit loud.”

Lando’s mum smiled. “Lando’s always been noisy. Even before he could walk.”

There was a companionable quiet then, filled only with the sounds of cloth against glass, the occasional scrape of a chair shifting outside.

After a while, Lando’s mum leaned her hip against the counter, holding the last dish towel in her hands. Her voice softened. “Have you had a nice evening?”

Amelia nodded once. “Yes.”

“Not too much stress?”

“No. It was fine.” Amelia told her.

Another pause. Then Cisca said, “I’ve really enjoyed having you around. Not just tonight — all of it. The last few years.”

Amelia tilted her head, not quite sure what to say to that. She didn’t do small talk, didn’t do the light layers of meaning most people danced through in social niceties. But she knew this wasn’t fluff. This was sincerity. So she answered plainly. “I like being part of the family.”

Lando’s mum’s eyes softened. “You are. Completely. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Amelia said. “Mostly because everyone keeps feeding me. Which is a pretty strong cultural signal.”

That made Lando’s mum laugh — a soft, surprised sound that echoed off the tile. “You’re good for him, you know,” she said after a moment, folding the towel neatly. “You keep him grounded. Focused. I think he relaxes more around you than he ever has.”

Amelia blinked. “He says I make him brave.”

“Well.” Her mother-in-law smiled. “Then that goes both ways.”

They stood in that gentle stillness for a beat longer, until the quiet grew warm again, full of the kind of silence that didn’t need filling.

And then, casually, Lando’s mum glanced toward the garden and mused aloud, mostly to herself, “God, imagine little ones running around out there. I don’t know how they all used to fit on the swings as kids. One day I’ll need to put in a second set.”

It wasn’t a prompt. Not really. Not an intrusive question. Just a meandering thought.

But Amelia, as ever, didn’t do subtle. “Oh,” she said brightly, setting down the towel. “You want grandkids? That’s great. I want three babies.”

Lando’s mum froze.

Amelia carried on, gaze wandering as she thought out loud. “Probably two or three years apart. It gives me more recovery time and better age grouping. Closer than that and it can get overwhelming, but too far apart and they don’t grow up together.”

There was a long beat of stunned silence.

Amelia looked up, completely unbothered. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I—” Lando’s mum blinked, gripping the edge of the counter like she might sway. “Are you… have you already started to plan this?”

“Well, yeah,” Amelia said simply, eyebrows lowering. “Me and Lando are married. We love each other. Babies come next.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, honey. It’s just that you said that so—” She paused. “So casually.”

Amelia tilted her head again. “Should I not?”

“No, no! I just—” Her mother-in-law laughed, flushed and delighted and mildly overwhelmed. “That was just very matter of fact. I thought we were still at ‘maybe one day’, but you’re already planning!”

“Well, I have stage one endometriosis and some hormone instability, so I’ll probably need to plan anyway,” Amelia added, as if discussing what to get at the supermarket. “Might as well think about it now.”

Lando’s mum blinked again, then laughed — this time fuller, warmer.

“Okay,” she said. “Three grandbabies. Wow.”

“They’ll have your curls if I’m lucky,” Amelia said, very seriously. “I like your hair genetics.”

“I—thank you?”

“And your nurturing instincts,” Amelia added, as though building a character profile. “You’re very good at intuitive parenting. Lando always says you were the reason he felt safe growing up.”

At that, Lando’s mum had to sit down. She pulled out a chair and dropped into it, hand over her heart, laughter laced with sudden emotion.

“You’re going to kill me,” she muttered, smiling behind misty eyes. “You’re too much.”

Amelia tilted her head again. “I thought you liked me.”

“Oh, darling.” Lando’s mum reached over and squeezed her wrist. “I adore you.”

Amelia smiled then, soft and genuine. “Good. Because I think you’re going to be an excellent grandmother.”

“Well now you’ve really done it.” She sniffled.

They stayed like that for a while, one sitting, one standing.

Out in the garden, Lando’s voice floated through the open window, calling her name.

Amelia turned toward the sound, then glanced back. “I should go. He gets fussy when he’s ignored.”

“He gets that from me,” his mum said proudly.

Amelia paused just long enough to scoop up her yellow golf ball from the fruit bowl. Then she turned, light on her feet, and disappeared out into the garden — barefoot, sun-warmed and so loved.

And behind her, Lando’s mum sat back in her chair, hands pressed to her mouth, and whispered, just to herself, “Oh my God. Three.”

—

The link came through on the Thursday.

Amelia was halfway through a review of McLaren’s rear wing iterations for Quatar, coffee long gone cold beside her laptop, noise-cancelling headphones pushed down around her neck. The screen pinged — a message from Celeste, attached to a Rightmove URL.

iMessage — 17:09pm

Celeste

How cool is this? x

—

Amelia blinked, opened it, and paused.

It was the manor. Their manor.

The property where she and Lando had gotten married — tucked into the countryside, ivy-streaked and storybook quaint, with sweeping fields behind it and that crooked old sycamore where the marquee had stood. Where her dad had cried into the champagne tower, and Lando had held her hand all day long (other than when he was throwing himself around on the bouncy castle), and her dress had caught a tear in the gravel and she hadn’t even cared because her heart had been full to bursting.

It was for sale.

Amelia clicked through the gallery, something slow and tight pressing behind her ribs. The listing was full of charming estate-agent nonsense — “refined country character,” “versatile entertaining spaces,” “historic orchard with development potential.” But all she could see were memories. The long garden path where she and Lando had snuck off to breathe after the ceremony. The kitchen where she’d sat cross-legged on the floor in her wedding dress, eating crisps while the caterers cleared the dessert plates. The upstairs window where she’d caught him staring at her during golden hour, grinning like he’d won the lottery and couldn’t believe it. His camera has been in his hand — but she’d never seen those photos. He was keeping them for himself.

But the manor. It was right there. Available. Real.

Amelia stared at the asking price, did quick maths on the equity they had, the rental yields on their current apartment in Monaco, how much they were planning to invest into the two bedroom in Monaco, and what their joint savings could comfortably stretch to. The answer was: probably, if they were strategic. Not now-now. But soon. With a plan.

She opened a fresh Notes doc, typed.

‘Manor as UK based family house? Logistical breakdown’

She listed costs, zoning requirements, timelines for permits. She checked the regional council site for restrictions on redevelopment and found that yes — the orchard could potentially be converted into a private home with the right architectural submission. She bookmarked three firms. Two hours later she’d drawn up the outline of a house. Open-plan lower level. South-facing windows. Space for a workshop or sim room. A sensory room. And three children’s bedrooms.

She added a note.

‘Would need to bring in autism-specialist designer for stimulus-neutral planning.’

And then.

Bedrooms: 5. One guest. Three kids. One master.

Gap between each baby: 2.5 years (ideal).

She stopped typing, blinked at that for a second. Then nodded once, satisfied.

The door opened behind her — quiet but familiar. Lando padded into the room, hair damp from the shower. He glanced over her shoulder. “Architectural planning?” he asked, brow quirked. “That’s not your Quatar doc.”

Amelia turned the screen toward him. “Celeste sent me a property listing.”

He leaned closer. Then froze. “…Is that—?”

“Yup,” she said. “The manor.”

Lando stared. “Our manor?”

“They’re selling it.”

He stepped behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, staring down at the screen like it might vanish. “That’s so weird. I haven’t thought about it in ages.”

“I have,” Amelia said. “Not constantly. Just sometimes. It was a good day.”

“The best,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She gestured at her notes. “I’ve been planning.”

Lando blinked. “Planning what?”

“Buying it. Not, like, the whole thing. Just the orchard part. If it goes through zoning, we could build a house. Make it something generational. Keep it in the family.”

His silence wasn’t disapproval; she could tell from the way his hands tightened, his breath caught. “A house,” he echoed.

“A big one,” she said. “Made for… us. Not for show. But for living in. Long-term. Home base. With a playground in the garden. And plenty of open space. And a pantry big enough for your ridiculous cereal collection.”

He laughed under his breath. “Do you… want that?”

She paused. “I didn’t know I did. Until I saw the listing.”

Lando slipped around her chair and crouched in front of her, eyes warm. “Are you sure? You’re not just being nostalgic?”

She met his gaze. “Lando — that place… it made sense. Felt like somewhere I belonged. We could make it ours.”

Lando looked at her. Then at the screen. Then back. “You’ve already done zoning research, haven’t you?”

“I found three architects,” she said. “And checked school catchments, just in case.”

Lando blinked, then grinned. “Of course you did.”

She hesitated, then added, quieter, “I’d want to be pregnant there. Eventually. Not soon, but… there.”

He didn’t tease. Didn’t joke. Just leaned up and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her ring finger. “Okay. Then we’ll make it happen.”

And just like that, it was decided.

Amelia turned back to the screen, updated her note.

Step 1: Contact estate agent. Arrange viewing. Step 2: Call Dad. Warn him. Step 3: Pick floor tile suitable for future tiny baby feet.

Behind her, Lando pulled her onto his lap. She let him. The tab stayed open. So did the idea.

And somewhere deep in the marrow of her bones, Amelia felt it: rightness. Not the adrenaline spike of racing, not the sharp pride of strategy well executed — but the slower, steadier thing. The one that sounded like footsteps down a future hallway. Familiar laughter echoing through the orchard. A house. A home.

Theirs forever.

—

Qatar

The air was heavy with desert heat, painfully dry even in the mid-morning. Most people moved slowly here — in the heat, haste became impractical. But Amelia strode with her usual focus, clipboard tucked under one arm, iPad in her hand, and a thin layer of sweat collecting under her collarbones. She didn’t seem to notice. She was watching brake wear overlays and updating cooling parameters and trying not to think about how much she despised the dry, cloying heat.

She was halfway through checking a piece of data that’d come straight from the factory about the new airflow model when she felt someone fall into step beside her, shadow overlapping hers. She didn’t need to look.

“Morning, Lewis.”

“Morning, Amelia.”

She glanced at him. He was dressed well (always was), sipping a bottle of electrolyte water, sunglasses perched just so. There was something about the way Lewis moved — quiet, deliberate, like he had nowhere to be and yet was always where he needed to go.

“You’re braver than I am,” he said. “Out here without a parasol.”

“I hate carrying them,” she said with a sigh. “They pinch my hands.”

Lewis chuckled. “They do. I’m sure if you asked, McLaren would have someone walk around and hold it for you.”

Amelia blinked at him. “Would they?”

He gave her an amused look. “Of course they would.”

She nodded slowly. “I might ask next time.”

They walked a little further, the chaos of the paddock continuing to hum around them. Team radios crackled. Engines whined in the distance. Amelia’s eyes kept darting to the telemetry, to the graphs, to her overlays — but she was listening. She always listened.

“Hot day,” she said eventually.

“It’s Qatar,” he replied. “Always is.”

A beat passed. Then, “You’ll do well this weekend,” Lewis said. “Oscar’s looking sharp.”

“We’re not taking anything for granted.”

“You never do.”

They stopped outside the Mercedes garage. Amelia turned to him. “You’ve been consistent lately. Steady.”

His smile tugged up again, softer this time. “Just trying to keep these kids honest.”

She inclined her head. “You’re still the benchmark. Even if some of them won’t admit it.”

He tapped her tablet gently with one finger. “Keep an eye on your tire deltas. It’s gonna be a degradation race.”

“Already modelling it.”

He gave her a look. “Of course you are.”

And then he was gone, moving through the crowd like water, slipping between people without ever breaking stride.

Amelia stood there a moment longer, adjusting her headphones, refocusing — until someone whistled.

“Ah, Amelia. Don’t tell me you’re fraternising with the opposition.”

She turned around and beamed.

Fernando stood in the corridor between the Aston Martin trucks, arms crossed over his chest, half a smile on his face. He looked relaxed — but then again, he always did.

“I’ve missed you!” She exclaimed, walking to him and giving him a hug. “You had such a great first half of the season and I feel like I hardly saw you throughout any of it.”

Fernando sighed. “No stress. We have both been busy, no? I am just pleased to see you doing so well.” He said. “Despite the fact,” Fernando began, “That I still think it is a crime that Verstappen let you go so easily. You made his car sing.”

She didn’t respond.

“I mean it,” he continued. “Some engineers are smart. Others are intuitive. You are both, mi nina. That’s rare.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” she said simply.

“That may be,” he replied, “but if I were Lawrence, I’d be doing everything I could to steal you.”

As if summoned, a new voice entered the conversation. “I have been trying.”

Amelia turned.

Lawrence Stroll stood there, eye-waveringly expensive suit slightly wrinkled from travel, sunglasses pushed back into his greying hair, hands in his pockets. “I’ve been meaning to have a word with you, Amelia.”

She narrowed her eyes, only slightly. “This isn’t about Oscar, is it?”

“No,” Lawrence said, with a slight chuckle. “It’s about you.”

Fernando, sensing the shift in tone, raised a hand in farewell. “I’ll let you two talk.”

Lawrence ignored him. His gaze stayed on Amelia. “I’ve watched your work closely for many years now,” he said. “Your leadership. Your race management. The way the drivers respond to you. It’s not just talent — it’s control. Trust. Those things are hard to build.”

Amelia didn’t blink. “You’re not being very subtle.”

“I don’t have time to be,” Lawrence said. “I’m building something. Something long-term. And I want the best. You’re on that list.”

“I’m already taken,” she said bluntly.

“I know,” he said. “But contracts can end. Or change. As you know very well.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Lawrence tilted his head. “Just think about it. That’s all I ask.”

“I will.”

He nodded once, then disappeared down the paddock with the weight of ambition in his wake.

Amelia watched him go, arms crossed now, her mind shifting back into gear. Already, the data was pulling her back in. Already, she was recalculating.

But there was a spark of something new in her chest.

Just a reminder of how valuable she’d become.

And how many people had finally noticed.

—

Her walk through the paddock was steady, breath tight in her chest, like if she exhaled too sharply, the whole moment would dissolve. Oscar’s voice had still been in her ears when he crossed the line. Still calm. Still contained.

“You did it, ducky. Sprint winner. Incredible driving.”

And his response?

A simple, stunned, “Oh. Wow.”

Now the world was echoing that same disbelief back at them — media swarming, mechanics clapping, the orange corner of the grandstand nearly shaking itself apart. And there he was, standing under the canopy of the cool-down room tent, race suit half-peeled, hair wild and wet with sweat.

Amelia saw him before he saw her.

Oscar looked dazed, like the adrenaline hadn’t quite cleared, and the gravity hadn’t quite landed. Mark was stood next to him, one hand clapped firmly on his shoulder, saying something low and fast and proud in that unmistakable Aussie drawl.

It was the way Mark was looking at Oscar — like he’d always known this would happen, and yet it was still better than expected — that made Amelia’s throat catch.

Then Oscar’s eyes found hers.

He blinked. Straightened. And smiled — wide, slightly crooked, boyish in a way he rarely let slip.

“Ducky,” she said simply, coming to a stop in front of him.

He laughed at the nickname. “That’s me,” he said. “Your statistically improbable Sprint winner.”

“You were perfect,” she said, all dry precision. But her eyes, bright and damp and more open than usual, gave her away.

Oscar’s grin faltered into something smaller, realer. “I kept waiting for the tyres to drop off. But they didn’t. It just… held.”

“You managed them. Just like we practiced.”

“I couldn’t hear you properly on the cool-down lap.”

“I didn’t say much,” she admitted, voice softer now. “I was… I was a little busy staring at the sector deltas and stimming like a lunatic.”

Oscar stepped forward then, ignoring the chaos beyond the ropes. He pulled her into a tight hug — unexpected, grounding, a little sweaty. Amelia stiffened for half a second, then melted into it, her fingers fisting into the back of his Nomex suit.

“You did it,” she whispered. “Oscar, you actually did it.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just held her tighter. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glassy. “Thanks for… I don’t know. For always being ten steps ahead. And for being so brutal in debriefs.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and meant it.

Mark joined them then, grinning like the proudest man alive. “You’ve created a monster,” he said to Amelia, gesturing at Oscar with exaggerated disbelief. “I mean — who does that to Max Verstappen?”

Amelia gave Oscar a mock-critical look. “Apparently Oscar.”

Oscar flushed.

Mark stepped in and offered Amelia a quick hug of his own. She stiffened, jaw tight and uncomfortable, but let it happen. “He needed someone who’d challenge him. You’ve given him more than that.”

“I’ve given him too many Excel sheets and an unhealthy obsession with braking telemetry.”

Mark laughed. “And he’s bloody better for it.”

They turned to watch Oscar be ushered toward the podium staging area. Media was already beginning to descend like buzzards, but he turned back once, just once, to catch Amelia’s eye.

She lifted a hand. Just a little wave.

He beamed.

And she smiled too — that rare, bright thing she usually reserved very carefully. It stayed on her face even as the chaos pulled him away, even as the noise grew again.

Because this was just the start.

—

The floodlights above Lusail beamed down like a thousand moons, bleaching the tarmac into shining silver, catching every sparkle of champagne, every fist pump, every celebration grin.

They had done it again.

Second and third.

Oscar, steady and instinctive, had held off Mercedes. Lando, smart and ruthless and near-flawless, had chased Max all the way to the flag. Both cars on the podium; again. But it felt even more electric this time. Not because it was a surprise, but because it wasn’t.

They expected this now. And they’d earned it.

Amelia stood frozen on the edge of parc fermé, headset still hanging around her neck, fingers curled tight into the sleeves of her fireproof undershirt, like she was holding herself together physically.

She’d watched the data with locked knees and clenched teeth — the tire drop-off, the rising temps, the wild degradation that almost threw Oscar’s balance completely out of sync. She’d tracked Lando’s closing distance to Checo with obsessive exactness, whispering split times under her breath like a mantra.

And when they crossed the line, second and third, orange and papaya gleaming beneath the lights, she hadn’t cheered, but her hands had started to shake.

Not from fear. Not even from the intensity of the race.

From release.

From joy so big it didn’t know where to go. It had to come out somewhere.

Zak had clapped her on the back — a proud, grounding weight — but she hadn’t looked up. She couldn’t, not until she’d pressed the backs of her hands to her eyes and pressed hard until the burn became manageable.

“You alright?” Will asked quietly beside her.

“I need a second,” she said, voice hoarse. “Just— I’m good. Just wait—”

She exhaled hard through her nose. Pressure valve, she reminded herself. It’s just joy. It’s okay to feel it. Let it happen.

So she did.

Right there on the edge of victory lane, Amelia rocked forward slightly on her feet, fingertips tapping a sharp rhythm against the back of her neck. She bounced a little on her heels, grounding, focusing, reining in the swirl of movement and sound and heat. She let out a breath in four-second beats.

In. Two. Three. Four.

Out. Two. Three. Four.

And when she opened her eyes again, she saw them.

Lando was laughing on the cool-down room couch, hair soaked with champagne, hands gesturing animatedly as Oscar flopped down beside him, face flushed and alive with adrenaline.

Oscar turned his head toward the glass and saw her watching.

He pointed.

Amelia flinched.

Then he mouthed, slow and dramatic, “Golf?”

She choked on a laugh and covered her face again.

God.

Her boys.

—

The paddock was quieter now.

The air still shimmered faintly from the heat of the day, and the sharp edges of celebration had dulled into a hum — softer now, half-hearted claps and fading laughter in the distance. Most people were halfway to a plane, or dragging their feet back toward the garage with radio kits slung over their shoulders and eyelids sagging.

Amelia lingered just behind the McLaren garage, leaning against a cargo crate under the metallic halo of the floodlights. The desert breeze hadn’t made it this far — the air was thick, warm against her skin. Her braid was stuck slightly to the back of her neck, her headset long since abandoned, replaced by the hum of low, far-off chatter.

She was just about to leave — phone in her pocket, half-formed message to Lando abandoned — when she caught a familiar flash of navy and orange in her periphery.

Max.

He walked slowly, alone, like he wasn’t in a rush to do anything or be anywhere — like the weight of a whole championship had finally lifted off his shoulders, or maybe just settled into them more comfortably than ever. His fireproofs were still on, peeled to his waist, Red Bull cap in one hand and a half-drunk water bottle in the other. There was something tired about his expression, but not worn out — no, it was a softness. A quiet. The kind of emotional fatigue that only came with finishing something enormous.

Amelia stepped out from the shadow.

“Hey,” she called softly.

Max turned immediately. His eyes found hers with ease — and his whole face changed.

“Zusje,” he said, voice warming. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

She smiled as he closed the distance. Even though they hadn’t worked together since the end of 2022, the nickname had not changed. She was still the woman who used to throw a pen at him across the engineering office when he refused to hydrate. Still the one who used to walk him through telemetry until midnight, murmuring grip differentials and weight distribution while he paced behind her chair like a caged animal.

And she was still, always, proud.

“Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “Three consecutive championships. That’s… incredibly impressive.”

Max’s mouth pulled into a smile, but not a smirking one. There was no sharpness to it tonight, just something full of gravity and warmth. He nodded slowly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the feeling yet.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How fast everything goes?”

Amelia nodded. “Feels like you were just yelling about turn-in balance in the sim room.”

“You were the one who was yelling,” Max corrected, faintly amused.

“You weren’t listening,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

That pulled a small laugh out of him, tired, but real. Then he quieted again. His eyes found hers in that way that people do when they’re trying to say something more.

“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend,” he said, gently.

Amelia blinked. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” Max said. “You built me this car. The RB19. I know it’s not the official story, but I can tell, Amelia. I can tell.”

She opened her mouth to wave it off, to deflect, like she always did when people tried to give her credit, but Max held up a hand to stop her.

“No,” he said, firmer now. “Listen to me. The RB19 wouldn’t exist without the 18. And the 18 wouldn’t have won anything if you hadn’t been there.”

The words landed like something heavy and warm in her chest.

Amelia looked at him, trying to push past the way her throat suddenly tightened. “You would’ve done it without me.”

“No,” Max said again, quieter this time. “I wouldn’t. Not like this. Not this fast.”

He took a step closer, and for a moment, Amelia thought he might just say goodbye and leave it at that. But then he opened his arms and pulled her into a hug — without hesitation, without warning.

It was a tight hug. Not the kind people give out of politeness, but the kind that says thank you and I missed you and I’m so glad you’re still here all at once.

Amelia froze for half a second, then melted into it. She tucked her face against his shoulder, arms around his middle, letting the weight of it press into her ribs like the safe kind of pressure she craved when the world was too loud.

“Thanks for not going to Ferrari,” he mumbled into her hair.

She snorted, eyes stinging. “They never offered me enough money.”

Max laughed, still hugging her. “Then they’re idiots.”

They stood like that for a few seconds longer before pulling apart. His eyes were glassy now, though he blinked it away quickly — ever the professional, ever the calm public face.

Amelia nudged him gently. “You want a cake?”

Max blinked. “What?”

“I’ll make you one. For winning. Three tiers. Orange frosting. Maybe a little fondant helmet on top.”

He grinned. “You still bake?”

“I live with Lando. I bake a lot.”

“God help him.”

“I know. Poor thing.” She said flatly.

He shook his head, but the joy on his face didn’t fade. He reached out and squeezed her arm once, then let his hand drop. “Proud of you,” he said softly. “Really. McLaren’s lucky to have you.”

Amelia looked away, slightly flustered, always awkward when praise was pointed at her directly. “Thanks.”

Max smiled again, then gave her a salute with the neck of his water bottle. “Don’t be a stranger. We’ll do dinner in Monaco soon, yes?”

“Only if we can order in and have a movie night.”

“Deal.”

And then he turned, walking slowly into the night — a champion with one more trophy to pack, one more piece of history behind him.

Amelia stood alone again, the air still hot and dry, her skin buzzing faintly with old memories and new ones colliding in the quiet. She pulled out her phone, thumbed open a note, and started typing orange food colouring, almond extract, fondant, because she didn’t joke about cake.

And because Max, her brother in every way that mattered, deserved to be celebrated.

—

The hotel room was dark when they entered — not pitch-black. Lando immediately cracked the sliding door to the balcony, ensuring it was cracked open just enough to let in the dry desert breeze. Warm. Quiet. Comforting.

Amelia dropped her bag by the dresser and toed off her shoes with a tired sort of precision. She was past adrenaline now, past even the soft ache of overstimulation. What was left was weight — the good kind, the kind that came from surviving something huge and being allowed, finally, to stop holding herself together.

Lando went back to lock the door behind them. He was still half-damp from the champagne showers, still glittering faintly in spots from podium confetti. His curls were crushed under the McLaren cap he hadn’t removed since the post-race interviews. But his eyes found her immediately, soft and alert, scanning like always — a systems check, not for damage, but for peace.

“You need quiet time?” He asked gently, already moving to mute the TV.

Amelia nodded. “Just for a bit.”

She went to the bathroom first, washed her face — the water too warm, but the sensation grounding. She peeled off the layers of her race-day skin like armour; the undershirt, the sweat-dampened team hoodie, the lanyard that had been irritating her collarbone since sunrise.

When she came out, Lando was in one of the hotel robes, hair towel-dried, stretched sideways across the bed with her comfort yellow golf ball balanced on his stomach like it was a precious artefact.

“You left this in your bag,” he said, offering it to her without moving.

She climbed onto the bed beside him, took the ball, and rolled it between her palms. “Thanks.”

“Still your favourite?”

“Always.”

He reached out and traced a slow line down her arm, from elbow to wrist, just enough pressure to say I’m here without demanding anything from her. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Another double podium. We’re making a habit of it.”

Her throat tightened. “I know. It’s amazing.”

“Yeah. All because of you.”

Amelia leaned into him, resting her forehead against his collarbone. The room was wrapped in that perfect post-race quiet — not silent, but peaceful. The kind of quiet that only came after noise. After glory.

After survival.

He kissed the top of her head. She hummed.

“Are we sleeping in tomorrow?” She murmured, not moving.

“I already told the team that we’ll unreachable until noon,” Lando said. “I told them that I take protecting my wife’s peace very seriously.”

“You are my peace.” She mumbled.

He smiled against her hair. “Damn right I am.”

They stayed like that for a while — no TV, no phone lights. Just the low hum of the AC, the rustle of sheets, the subtle, syncopated rhythm of two people perfectly in tune with each other. Amelia’s fingers tapped lightly on his ribs — 4-4-3-1. Her grounding pattern. Lando didn’t ask, didn’t flinch. Just let her do it.

Eventually, she pulled back and tilted her face toward his. “I want to talk about the race now.”

“Okay,” he said, instantly alert but calm. “Do you want analysis or emotions?”

Amelia smiled tiredly. “Both. But I’m gonna start with this — Oscar should not have gone medium-medium-soft, but I understand why you both pushed for it.”

“We had to risk it. Track position mattered too much.”

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“You were right about pit windows again.”

“And you were right to stay out on Lap 32. I was going to make Will force you to box, but you felt something I couldn’t see in the data.”

Lando grinned, proud. “Yeah, I did.”

Amelia pressed a hand flat against his chest, directly over his heart. “You were… amazing.”

“You said that already.”

“I’m saying it again.”

They reviewed the race for nearly an hour in soft voices and tangled limbs, swapping data with half-formed sentences and coded phrases only they understood; Brake fade was smoother this time, Oscar felt twitchy into Turn 11, You covered the undercut like a bastard, I wanted to cry but I didn’t.

And when the words ran out, Amelia simply curled herself into his side and let her brain slow down. The stimming eased. The tapping softened to nothing. She traced lazy shapes on his chest — circuits and corner maps and invisible telemetry lines — until her hand stilled altogether.

“You good?” He asked, barely audible.

She nodded. “I’m so good.”

“Want me to read you something?”

“Yeah. That New Yorker piece on wind tunnels.”

“You are such a romantic.” He teased.

“I’m your wife. Everything I do is romantic.” She returned.

He chuckled, reached for his phone, and pulled up the article she’d bookmarked a week ago. As he read aloud, his voice lilted steady and familiar, her own version of white noise.

And somewhere between "computational fluid dynamics" and "thermal efficiency profiles," Amelia fell asleep — yellow golf ball still in her hand, Lando’s arm around her, her heart beating steady and unburdened in her chest.

—

The trophies sparkled.

Four of them. Lined up on a low table in the MTC atrium, beneath the glow of glass ceilings and beside a freshly wheeled-in faux bowling lane, complete with inflatable pins and McLaren-orange carpeting.

Oscar had walked in, taken one look at the setup, and said, “No one’s ever going to take us seriously as a team ever again.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lando grinned, flipping a trophy in one hand like it was a cricket bat. “I am deadly serious.”

Amelia, leaning against the edge of a bench, arms crossed and sunglasses still on indoors, said flatly, “You’re wearing socks with little trophies on them.”

“They’re on theme!”

“They’re ridiculous.”

Will entered last, clapping his hands like a game show host. “Alright, legends. Social team wants chaos, let’s give ‘em chaos. Two teams. Four frames. Trophy bowling.”

“Are the trophies the pins or the balls?” Oscar asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Will blinked. “God, no. The trophies are prizes. You get to keep yours if you win.”

Lando squinted. “Don’t we already—”

“Shh.”

Amelia let out a long, dry sigh, then pushed off the bench and rolled her shoulders. “Fine. Oscar, you and me.”

Oscar’s eyes widened in glee. “You’re choosing me over Lando?”

“He eats cereal with a fork. It’s a strategic decision.”

“That was one time!”

The McLaren comms team were already filming — phones up, boom mic wobbling overhead, a graphic artist hovering with cue cards shaped like little helmets. The whole thing felt like an inside joke, but Amelia didn’t mind. There was a certain charm to letting the world see this side of them — messy, loud, unfiltered. Human.

—

Oscar stepped up first. He rolled with more enthusiasm than technique, hurling the plush bowling ball down the lane with the kind of commitment that made Amelia wince in anticipation. It clipped four pins and skidded off into the foam barrier.

“Respectable,” Amelia said, patting his shoulder.

“You mean mediocre.”

“Mm.” She shrugged.

Her husband was up next, stretching like he was about to serve at Wimbledon.

“You’re taking this too seriously,” she muttered.

He smiled back at her, all dimples and trouble. “That’s because you’re not taking it seriously enough.”

He bowled like he drove: smooth, fast, calculated. Seven pins. Not bad.

Will followed with a bizarre overarm motion that somehow knocked down two and a camera tripod.

“Bonus points?” He asked.

“No,” Amelia said.

Then it was her turn.

She approached the line, calm and blank-faced, and underhanded the ball with the mechanical precision of someone used to high-pressure motor coordination. Strike. Ten pins. Easy.

The whole room exploded. Lando pointed at her like a WWE opponent. “You’ve done this before!”

Amelia shrugged. “Bowling is one of the only things I enjoyed doing as a kid.”

Oscar fist-bumped her. “My engineer is the GOAT.”

“I hate that acronym so much,” she murmured.

—

Will tried to distract Oscar by humming the F1 theme tune while he bowled. It worked. Two pins. Oscar cursed creatively.

Lando and Amelia shared a brief, subtle eye-contact moment that the cameras missed — the kind that passed entire volumes between them.

He walked past her and whispered, “If I win, you have to wear my trophy socks to the track.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “If I win, you make dinner every night for a month.”

Lando paled. “Harsh.”

“High stakes.”

His bowl went wide. Five pins.

Will somehow managed a bank shot that knocked down six and hit the snack table. Everyone cheered anyway.

Amelia took her time. She lined up, read the angle, adjusted her wrist — and bowled another strike.

Lando threw his arms up. “That’s cheating! You’ve got bowling angles in your head!”

“I’m just better than you,” she said calmly, collecting a high-five from the intern on drinks duty.

—

Oscar, determined to contribute something of value, nailed an eight and did a little celebratory shuffle that Amelia politely ignored. Lando stared at him, muttering, “You’re lucky I like you.”

Will slipped and fell into the pins.

Amelia, in sunglasses and zero emotional affect, simply bowled her third consecutive strike.

The room lost it.

The social media manager screamed. Someone triggered a confetti popper. Lando clutched his heart like a wounded soldier.

“She’s unstoppable,” Oscar said reverently.

Lando slumped dramatically to the floor. “I married a bowling superstar.”

Amelia walked over, bent down, and plucked the little trophy from his hand. “You married a winner.”

He reached up, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her gently down until she was seated beside him on the floor. The foam pins lay scattered around them like trophies of a different kind.

“You tried your best,” she said, voice low enough for only him to hear.

“Doesn’t make me feel any better,” he replied. “I’m shit at bowling.”

Oscar appeared behind them, brandishing his own trophy like a microphone. “Any words for your fans, Amelia?”

She blinked. “Yes. I’m going to put this trophy on my desk and carve my name into it with a nail file.”

Lando covered his face with one hand. “No!”

The camera zoomed in just in time to catch Amelia flicking Lando’s ear in triumph.

—

United States

The chequered flag had waved, the dust of the Texas tarmac still settling when news of the post-race disqualifications broke.

Back in the garage, the McLaren team pulsed with cautious celebration — engineers exchanging tired smiles, mechanics packing up with a bit more spring in their step. Amelia remained still, standing beside Oscar’s car, headset clutched loosely in one hand, her eyes darting between lines of data on her tablet.

Oscar had retired early — front wing damage from a Lap 1 squeeze that spiralled into floor and sidepod issues. It had been a helpless sort of race. Amelia had stayed composed on the radio, her voice steady even as her brain burned through every what-if.

Now, the sting was still there, hot in her chest.

But when she returned to the hotel hours later, the suite was already humming with something warmer. Softer.

Lando was at the window when she entered, silhouetted by the glow of Austin’s city lights, phone still buzzing with congratulations. His race suit had been peeled away in favour of a soft hoodie and shorts, but his grin hadn’t dulled with time.

“Third place,” he announced, voice teasingly casual, like he hadn’t just scored his sixth podium of the year. He dropped his gear bag by the door.

Amelia closed the door behind her, sighed, and padded in quietly. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice warm despite the weight in her limbs. She set her tablet on the desk and kicked off her shoes. “Accidental success.”

Lando snorted and crossed the room in three quick steps, looping his arms around her from behind. “Hey,” he murmured. “I know today sucked. For you, I mean.”

Amelia exhaled. Not with dismissal, but with tired honesty. “Part of the job,” she murmured, leaning into his hold. It had become her go-to response.

“You’re brilliant, you know,” he said, lips brushing her temple.

She turned in his arms, finally meeting his gaze, soft and steady. “You’ve gotta say that. I’m your wife.”

Lando grinned. “Damn right you are.”

They kissed once, light and quiet, the kind of kiss that felt like breath, then she slid past him and collapsed onto the couch with a groan. “Now order me food.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Mexico

The noise in Mexico was different — brighter, higher-pitched, almost celebratory even before the lights went out.

Lando had started 17th. A disaster in qualifying, a flurry of yellow flags, mistimed laps. But the race itself? It was his to reclaim. One by one, he picked them off — a clean, flawless charge through the midfield. Lap after lap of controlled aggression. A display of exactly who he’d become as a driver.

Fifth across the line. From seventeenth.

Amelia had barely unclipped her headset before someone was already patting her shoulder — an engineer, another team member, someone mumbling something about “hell of a recovery.” But she barely heard it. Her eyes had never left Oscar’s pit board. Her mind was still full of numbers, brake traces, engine modes. Oscar had made it home — 14th, battered floor, another deflated kind of race. But he’d finished. He’d toughed it out, listened to her voice through every adaptation.

That night, the hotel room was quiet, high above Mexico City.

Lando lay sprawled on the bed, race highlights playing dimly on his phone, the glow flickering over his face. Amelia crawled into the bed beside him, dragging the duvet up, curling against his side like she was trying to fit herself into the rhythm of his breathing.

“That was a good one,” she murmured, voice sleepy-soft, fingers resting over his stomach.

Lando tapped the screen, paused the replay. “Yeah?”

She hummed. “The start. The passes. The way you forced Russell wide in Turn One. Clinical.”

He kissed the top of her head, fingers slipping into the ends of her braid. “Did you just call my driving clinical? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

She laughed under her breath. “Shut up. Take the compliment.”

—

Brazil

Interlagos sang like it always did — fast, frayed around the edges, a racetrack built on guts and glory.

Lando’s pace had been stunning all weekend. P2 in the Sprint. Another P2 on Sunday, this time only behind Max. There was a moment — brief but real — when it looked like the win might be his. He’d stayed with Max, hunted him, pushed him. It had taken everything Red Bull had to stay ahead.

Amelia’s race had been less beautiful. Oscar had been clipped early. A spiralling nightmare of overheating tyres, turbulent aero, and a damaged rear. Amelia had stayed calm, her voice like metronome rhythm in his ear, guiding him through a salvage run. Still, the frustration clawed at her ribs.

But then there was the podium. Orange-clad team members cheering in the background. Lando grinning.

Later, back in the hotel, it was just the two of them — Amelia curled into his lap on the window seat, arms wrapped around his torso, city lights glittering through the glass behind them.

“Another podium,” she whispered, sipping her drink slowly.

Lando rested his chin on top of her head. “Feels good to be in it. To actually believe we’re not just relying on luck anymore.”

“You’re not,” she said firmly. “You’ll be winning soon.” She pressed her face into the side of his neck, then kissed the mole just beneath his ear — the one she loved most. “I promise, Lando. I promise.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just held her tighter. Then he exhaled into her hair and whispered, “Love you so much.”

Her fingers found his. Interlocked.

There was still so much season left. But in that quiet moment — high above São Paulo, with champagne still drying on his race boots and her voice steady in his chest — it felt like everything was going to be just fine.

NEXT CHAPTER

507 notes · View notes

volleychumps · 1 year ago

Note

Kurōo cheating on his s/o for his new manager but quickly falling out of love with her and she realizes so she quits as manager. But when he comes back to you he realizes you’re with someone else so he begs you to lie to him and say “I love you”.

Won’t You Lie to Me?

- the one in which Kuroo Tetsurou would do anything to hear the lies that stain your tongue

xFem! reader

Warning(s): cheating! angst, lots of tears, reader doesn't want Kuroo's touch in the last part, read with caution this was a painful write but I love angst soooo

---------------------------------------------

If you could go back in time, you wonder if you would take the detour to stop by your boyfriend’s volleyball practice again. It’s a bitter afterthought really, an afterthought to the scene before you.

She yelped, manager tracksuit zipping up quickly in the process as one of her hands flies to her hair, attempting to smooth down the mess of it as if it would magically fall back into place.

But you're not staring at her. How could you? Why stare at her when the raven-haired boy standing behind her with a slackened jaw and crumpled t-shirt was just such an interesting sight to see?

"Someone's hard at work." your tone is sarcastic, but the slight crack in the tinge of your words is enough for Kuroo to take a step towards you, watching the light fade from your eyes as the cowering manager of their team stares like you're a bomb about to explode.

"Y/N-"

"Don't."

Your reaction is mild and tame, simply tilting your head to the side as you don't break eye contact with him. It was a silly high school love story to begin with, perhaps one of those where happy endings don't exist and things are too good to be true.

If you knew that, then why does it feel like every inch of you won't stop trembling?

"Go to hell, Tetsurou." But he knows. He sees it in your eyes, the finality in your tone that sealed things in place. He knows you mean it. He knows you never say things you don't mean, the same way he knows things will never ever be what they once were.

So why can't he will his legs to move towards you?

Instead, dark eyes watch you hang your head with a heavy sigh, as if you were suddenly exhausted before shoving something in the manager's hands, ignoring the yelp that left her swollen lips.

"It's for the headache he claimed he had." Your voice was monotone as you refused to lift your gaze. "He's your problem now."

"Y/N."

It almost broke you. Almost. The gentleness in his tone, the way in which a shaky hand lifted towards you, but you simply took a step back. Staring down at the manager you once called a friend, you giggle humorlessly before simply turning on your heel and walking away.

"She's so calm about it, Tetsu-kun." The manager sniffed at your absence, trying to put a hand on one of his broad shoulders. "She must have never loved you, I told you so."

But Kuroo knew better. He wasn't sure why he gave in. He wasn't sure why for a second he believed what Yue was saying before she came onto him, not denying her when she advanced. Something about your plans to break up with him? Something about how you had giggled to Yue about how you were planning on leaving him for someone better?

He can't recall why or what was said. All he knows is as he's watching you, he strangely feels quite empty inside. This must mean he doesn't have any outright feelings for you anymore, right?

If he isn't hurting when he watches you go, isn't this for the best?

He's lost in his thoughts when the gym doors come to a tight shut, your knees hitting the soft grass outside as your legs give out from underneath you, a silent wail wracking your whole body as your heart splits into pieces, taking the form of salty tears that slide down your cheeks.

Kuroo Tetsurou still isn't really feeling much of anything.

He didn't feel much when he told Yue he still didn't want to be with her despite the deceptive steps taken. Not when she slapped him across the face. Not when Kenma had eyed him with a look of pure disgust with a sharp warning not to speak to him for the next couple days.

The only twinge he felt was when you handed in your resignation as manager, the gym an eerie quiet before the first years hug you tightly, teary-eyed as they exclaim that they didn't want you to go but they understand. Yaku glared at him the whole time, but Kuroo kept setting up the net as the first years tackle you in their last couple of embraces, glancing your way as you stroke their hair lovingly and explain you'll still find the time to hang out.

Kuroo was waiting for you to be on your way, out the door to catch you and say one last thing-

"Y/N, you have to know I'm so-"

"Sorry." Your voice is a little breathless, like you just had the wind knocked out of you. "But let's not, okay Tets-" You catch yourself, inhaling a shaky breath before managing a small smile.

"Okay, Kuroo? I'm happy being strangers. I don't hate you, okay?"

Your shoulder taps his as you stride past, a finality in your footsteps.

"I just wish we never met."

Kuroo stands there, a single emotion stirring in his chest as his gaze stares straight ahead, his shoulder on fire from where you had gently grazed it.

Confusion. Confusion swirls in his chest as his eyes brim with unshed tears he can't exactly match an emotion to.

A couple weeks pass...maybe a month or two? But the raven-haired third year doesn't even notice it. He goes through the motions of school and club activities, his team eventually having to slowly begin speaking to him again as preliminaries near the corner.

Kenma taps his head against the doorway of his room, staring at him blankly.

"Hey cheater."

"Funny." But Kuroo isn't laughing, sitting up in bed to eye him with an even stare. Kenma doesn't like the look in his eyes, the usual sarcastic and confident glint in his irises and smile nowhere to be seen. "What's up."

Kenma shrugs, taking a comfortable seat on the floor before pulling out his handheld device, Kuroo blinking once in surprise before laying back down in bed, listening to the click of the buttons and the movements of the joystick.

The cat-eyed boy glances at him, looking back down at his device before taking something out of his pocket and placing it on the end of his bed.

"Y/N wanted me to return this to you."

Kuroo eyes the red scarf at the end of the bed, Kenma focusing on the next level of his game before he sits up again to examine the fluffy fabric, the characters for Nekoma High School on the corner of one end.

His chest seems to twist.

"Don't be a brat, Y/N, it's cold out here."

"What if you get sick, idiot?"

""Stop calling your best friend an idiot! You're the worst, you know."

"Don't kid yourself. Kenma's my best friend."

A lump forms in his throat.

"Fine, whatever." Kuroo had smirked down at you from his towering height, wrapping the scarf around your neck despite your wishes as you eyed him weirdly. He leans down to your height, his eyes twinkling with something you can't pinpoint.

"I don't wanna be just your best friend anyway."

You glare at him a little, tip of your nose colored from the cold before standing on your toes to lean up and kiss him, smiling as your bag hits the snow beneath you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as the first snow falls around you.

"Promise me." Your sweet voice is hushed, eyes staring at him brimmed with straight adoration as you cup his cold cheeks, Kuroo's onyx eyes holding yours carefully.

"Let's go see next year's first snowfall together."

"Cheesy." Kuroo's grin is cocky as you swat his chest in slight embarrassment, but he grabs your hand anyways, stopping your attacks before leaning a little closer to your face, so close your breaths are mingling. His fingers are touching the scarf wrapped so carefully around your pretty neck, stroking your cheek with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed.

"We'll get a front row seat, kitten, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Tetsu?"

"Hm?"

You smiled, snow in your hair as you kissed him again.

Kuroo Tetsurou could now feel again.

"I love you."

And it was his heart absolutely breaking as regret fills the beginning of the onslaught of tears.

Kenma looks up, eyes widening a fraction as his childhood friend hunches over the now clenched red scarf, his body trembling as sob after sob pours out of him, the fabric smelling of you as he holds it close to his seemingly irreparable heart.

No, it wasn't that he couldn't feel.

His body was numb and in shock with the loss of you.

Kuroo Tetsurou wasn't a complete idiot.

He knew the damage done was nearly permanent. There would be no fixing things, the "nearly" part of that statement lingering on the sense of false hope he had that you would at least begin talking to him.

Strangely enough, it wasn't that difficult. You began nodding to at least acknowledge his existence when dropping off a packaged treats at practice. You even began saying hello when he was with Kenma, Kuroo only being able to manage an awkward greeting back before watching you walk off with a longing in his eyes.

"Doesn't Y/N-senpai seem so much brighter these days?" Inuoka slurps his yogurt pouch, brightening up as he mentions your name. He finishes tying his shoes, stretching out his arms overhead with a careless yawn.

"Maybe she's seeing someone new."

Kuroo misses a spike, chest heavy as the first year looks up at his captain, startled.

"Relax." Kenma scolds him, not missing a beat. "It's probably not true."

Yeah.

Kuroo jogs back to center court, watching Kenma's fingers set the ball up perfectly.

It's probably not true.

He misses the spike again.

"After we win this, I'm going to ask Y/N for another chance."

Kenma doesn't look surprised, eyeing Kuroo seriously before releasing a heavy sigh.

"Kuroo, you should really know that-"

"Oi. Get a move on, you two, this is the last preliminary match before the qualifying match to Nationals." Yaku cuts off the team's setter, Kenma groaning a little as Kuroo jogs ahead of him onto the court, Fukurodani waiting for them on the other side.

Kenma waves to you in the stands, and you smile, waving both hands in the air at the entire team as Kuroo's heart skips a beat.

That smile was still his, it has to be.

Bokuto greets his friend with a wide grin, slapping Kuroo on the back with a little less energy than usual as the two teams begin their warm ups, the two captains meeting once in awhile since the training camp.

"Hey hey Kuroo!" The owlish boy crosses his arms, smirking a little as the crate of balls gets rolled out onto the court. "You look great, better than I was expecting!"

"So you heard?" Kuroo sighs, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck. "about me and Y/N breaking up?"

"Hm? Oh, that too. I just thought it would've been a little weird seeing as she's dating Akaashi now and all."

What?

His hand freezes midair, voice caught in his throat by the huge lump that forms. Slowly, even though his body was screaming at him not to, he looks back up at the stands.

Akaashi had draped his jacket around your shoulders, slight smile on his lips as he seems to be immersed in conversation with you, Bokuto allowing him to run up real quick to see you before the match began. The setter's blue eyes were brimmed with so much adoration, the beginning sparks of new love evident between the two of you as you shyly nodded along to what he was saying.

Akaashi looks down at the court once before looking back at you, bringing your hand up to kiss once affectionately with a content smile on his face before placing a quick one on your cheek, jogging back down the stairs afterwards.

You don't know what to expect when you look back down at the court, warmth in your cheeks and chest with a foreign form of love you're not accustomed to yet. You want to meet Akaashi's eyes, cheer on Kenma and the Nekoma team, wave a greeting to Bokuto-

but the look of Kuroo's absolutely broken stare was not within the scope of your expectations.

Among the feelings Kuroo Tetsurou was learning how to feel again,

Panic was not one of them.

Panic is all he knows as the whistle blows in his ears, the game calling for someone to serve the first ball.

"Y/N."

"Kuroo." You say his name so easily, as if you're not the same person you were that day in the volleyball practice that never existed.

The one where he took your heart and completely discarded it.

"Where are the others-?"

"Washing up after the game." Kuroo can't meet your eyes, his head swimming with the things he rehearsed for hours on end, yet unable to communicate them.

"Oh." You say softly, and Kuroo hates it. He hates how you grow awkward and uncomfortable, like he wasn't the one kissing down your neck as you giggled for him to quit teasing. Like he wasn't your first love.

Like he didn't mean anything to you anymore.

"Y/N." Panic. Panic is what paints his voice as he steps closer to you, reaching an arm out to tug you into his chest, pretending like he doesn't feel you grow rigid at his touch. "Please."

"Let go, Kuroo." Your voice lost it's soft edge, void of emotion-

just like he used to be. You love him right?

"Say it."

"What-?"

"Won't you lie to me? Say that you love me, please say it."

False hope. He recognizes the next feeling when you shakily put your arms around him as well, your tears beginning to soak through his shirt.

Please say it.

"T-Tetsu." Your trembling in his hold. "I..I love you."

Confusion is next. He feels it when you break out of his hold, pushing him back abruptly with an ocean of emotions across your face, the feeling of holding him simply wrong.

Kuroo doesn't even know he's crying, not until your placing a careful hand on his cheek to swipe at his tears messily before laughing a little at the situation.

"Tetsu, let's put us in the past." Your voice is quiet, the air freezing as your warmth creates a slight puff from the contrast. "It's over for us now, don't you see? There's too much hurt-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Don't go to him. Please, I love-"

"I won't lie to you again." The tone in your voice is gentle, Kuroo's breath stuck in his throat again as his eyes well up with fresh tears. "I don't feel the same anymore, you broke my heart first...why do I have to take responsibility for yours?"

Kuroo says nothing, another familiar feeling inching towards his chest.

"But look-" You point up at the sky, snow falling down almost mockingly for the first time this season, a sad smile on your lips and wet tears down your cheeks. "It's the first snowfall."

You've never looked more beautiful, with snow in your hair and warmth in your lips.

"You kept your promise."

You turn around after that, continuing to cry as you walk off to go find Akaashi to apologize for the lie you let stain your tongue as Kuroo falls to his knees, his skin numb from the cold-

but his chest isn't numb.

No, he knows this feeling. He knows this feeling a bit too well, the snow seeming to shower at his expense in a rueful manner as he stares at the dark swirl of the sky above.

Heartbreak.

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misssilversunny · 5 months ago

Text

Ok wait i just had a funny idea

Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?

Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.

And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).

At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.

And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!

Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.

Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.

You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!

At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.

Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.

Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.

Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.

If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.

If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.

Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!

#yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batboys #neglected reader #spoiled reader #obsession reader #That's what I'll call them #I am not tagging all of the DC villains and vigilantes

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borathae · 5 months ago

Text

Stake Outs

“You get yourself into some trouble despite having been told to stay at home and Taehyung is the one who has to save you. Bear in mind, he will always save you, but he will also show you what recklessness and disobedience get you.”

Pairing: Gangster!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: Crime!AU, established relationship!AU, Dark Romance, some Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Rough & mean Dom!Taehyung, happy masochist sub!Reader, scary criminals are chasing her & want to hurt her, Tae saves her, graphic descriptions of killing people & blood, he is angry at her & scolds her, but they make up and it gets so emotional and soft, he is actually just a softie in love who was worried <3, fear of losing each other, a romantic stake out date in his car while it rains, dancing in the rain, making out in the rain, very!! public sex on an empty parking lot, outside. against his car. in the rain. (nhnnh), ass spanking, strength & size kink, buff!Tae for the win besties, he pins her down by her wrists & is generally a lot stronger than her, he cuts off her clothes with his knife, and traces her skin with it, he has a huge dick <3, rough sex from behind, he also fucks her on the backseat of his car, in doggy of course, he spits on her ass & fingers it with his thumb, sooo two hole double penetration with his cock & fingers, clit torture, overstimulation (f.receiving), forced orgasms (f.receiving), multiple orgasms (f.receiving), squirting, creampies, slight breeding kink for the sake of having cum inside NOT pregnancy, ownership kink kinda, subby girl tears, he definitely has a crying kink, ALSO! huge degradation kink for real (he calls her slut & whore and is a lil mean throughout the entire scene), but he also calls her good girl & babygirl <3, so praise kink as well hihi, i also want to say that she likes it when it feels as if he is "forcing" himself on her and she also likes it when he keeps going "eventhough she says stop", BUT everything happening is consensual and a safeword is discussed which she knows that she can always use!!, the most comforting & soothing aftercare where he makes sure that she feels loved <3, he also eats her out to soothe her and clean her, nipple play as he does it with praise, lots of cuddles and kisses <3, they're just really kinky and in love, OMFG I ALMOST FORGOT! Yoongi calls Tae while they fuck and Tae keeps going and therefore forces her to have to stay quiet, sooo rough doggy while Yoongi is on the phone and she has to stay quiet, so i think this is everything hahahf, despite these warnings this is a very safe & loving scene fjsdjf just extremly kinky & nasty mhmhm

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: imma keep it short cause the warnings are already so long djfadj just know besties, that this story did things to me and my strength kink. like holy fuck having buff!Tae pin me down and force me to my luck? fuckkckdkf imma just touch grass and keep my thots to myself. have fun besties, this is so hot & kinky and disgustingggg 😩🖤 happy birthday to Tae <3

He told you to stay out of it, but you didn’t listen and now you have to carry the consequences.

You managed to lose them in the crowd, but their presence creeps up on you more and more. With shaking fingers, you feed the telephone coins. His number comes easy to you. He picks up after the third ring.

“Vante speaking.”

“Tae, I didn’t listen. They’re gonna kill me. I’m in the fish district.”

You hang up and continue running. He’ll understand. You can’t stay at one place for too long. They’ll do terrible things to you if you slip into their hands. The streets are busy despite the heavy rain. Water slaps against your face and soaks your shoes.

The fish district isn’t actually called this way, but streets gain different names once one is on the dark side of the law. It isn’t far from where Taehyung currently is. You know that it won’t take him long to find you.

“Stop her!”

You look over your shoulder. They found you.

“Stop this fucking bitch!”

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You run. No looking back. Run. Fucking run. Your escape route takes you into a darker alleyway.

“You can’t run from us!”

“I’ll show you what happens to whores once I get you!”

“Stupid bitch, running is only gonna make us angrier!”

There are three of them. All men, hungry for ruining a woman in the most inhumane way possible before killing her. You need to keep a cool head despite being scared shitless.

Another corner. Faster. You are almost where Taehyung will find you. Faster! Run!

Their footsteps echoe in the alleyways. Their starving heaving sounds like songs of death to you.

The path ends. A wall. No. Holy fuck no, you took the wrong turn. No.

You whip around. The three goons cut off your way back. They are inching closer, fletching their hypothetical teeth like a group of hungry predators.

“Stay away!” you warn them, waving around the knife Taehyung got you for self-defence.

They aren’t impressed, inching closer.

“Stay away!” you yell louder.

They don’t listen, but perhaps they should have. They reach out for you, but they never get to touch you. Taehyung makes sure of that as he slices the first of them in half. The other two turn around and try to fight him, but they are helpless against him.

Delivering death is his daily bread and wine. Taehyung perfected the game until even the masters of it were unable to beat him. Now he is the master. Once he is set on killing a person, their death sentence is written. And fuck, Taehyung wrote an especially cruel end for your attackers.

One loses his hands before his heart. The other gets shot in the knees and his throat slid open. Taehyung kicks him in the face, making sure that he stays down.

The rain washes off his victims’ blood, soaking his clothes and his hair. He is in his leather jacket because he ran the moment he got your call. No time to dress up and take a rain coat.

“Oh god, fuck”, you get out, knees buckling in relief.

Taehyung whips around. The weapons are stored away again, but his eyes are still murderous.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“No, just in shock.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Means that I can do this. What the fuck were you thinking?” he closes the distance to you in big, angry steps. “I told you to stay at home and you disobeyed me. You reckless fucking woman. You almost got yourself killed.”

You can feel his breath from how close he is and with how much passion he spits his anger at you.

“I asked you for one thing. Stay home. That’s all I asked of you and you somehow were unable to follow this task? Why? Do you wanna fucking die? Cause if you do, just tell me and I’ll do it for you. No need to go out and worry me to death.”

He takes you by your shoulders and shakes you gently, staring at you with widened, emotional eyes. You let him shake you, just as you let him scold you.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Save your fucking sorries. No sorry in this world would have saved you from being raped and murdered”, he spits and grabs your hand, “can you walk?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Follow me.”

He tugs you with him. You follow him, feeling sick in guilt. He doesn’t even look at you, breathing heavily. His grip on you is possessive and angry, but doesn’t hurt. Deep down it is still a touch made from love. Taehyung could never hurt you. All this anger right now stems from a mixture of worry and his immense fear of losing you.

He parked his car not far from here. Somewhere he shouldn’t park, but he doesn’t give a fuck about.

“Inside”, he orders, opening the passenger door for you.

You try to talk to him at threshold of it, touching his chest. His heart is pounding against his ribcage. Another telltale sign of how upset the thought of losing you makes him.

“Tae, I’m sorry.”

“Inside. Now”, he snarls, lifting his brows in warning.

You follow because it is useless to try. He slams the door closed and rounds the car. Another slam of his door and then he already drives off.

Silence. Tension. Unsaid words.

You can take as much as a minute of it and then you have to try again.

“I thought that if I kept low, I wouldn’t get recognised.”

Silence.

“But one of them recognised my voice. I’m sorry.”

Silence. He is strangling the steering wheel in anger.

“Tae?”

“God damn it, ___!” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the wheel.

You flinch in surprise, holding your breath.

“You’re so fucking reckless. You think that I’m giving you this house arrest ‘cause I get off to it? I’ve been chasing these bastards for weeks, they’re ruthless and they stop at nothing to hurt me.”

“But now they’re dead?”

“No, their lowest of goons are dead. The fucking dead weight, the rats. And the king is still alive and now more wary than ever. For fuck’s sake, all I asked of you was to stay at home. You ruined the entire mission.”

He gestures with one hand, steering the car with the other.

“And you almost got yourself killed. Fuck.” He slaps the wheel. “Just thinking about what they would have done to you.” He exhales shakily, guiding his trembling hand to his mouth. “Baby, it would kill me if something happened to you”, he presses out in a quivering voice.

“Tae”, you get out, taking his hand. You kiss his knuckles, rubbing the tip of your nose against them. “I’m sorry.”

“Save your sorries”, you hisses, pulling his hand away.

“But I am.”

“Stick it. Fuck, I should-” he stops himself from saying something he doesn’t mean. He tenses his jaw, glances at you. “Fuck”, he presses out and looks away.

“Can I fix this somehow?”

“There’s nothing left to fix. You fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.”

He tenses his fingers around the steering wheel. Apologies won’t make it better.

“Thank you for saving me”, you whisper.

You are at a red light right now. His eyes gleam red as he glares at you. His jaw is tense.

“I know that I didn’t deserve it, so thank you.”

These words aren’t exaggeration. Taehyung is merciless with people who fuck up his missions. Some of his men never returned from their mistakes. Taehyung rarely saves when the reason is solely one’s own stupidity.

Technically you didn’t deserve to be saved tonight. Technically, you deserved to be assaulted and killed while the rain masked your screams. Technically you were a dead woman, but being Taehyung’s woman above anything else saved you. He’d set the world, which he was just about to save, on fire if it meant keeping you safe instead. This is what saved you. Being the love of his fucking life.

“If there is something I can do to repay you, I’ll do it”, you say.

Taehyung scoffs and looks away. He drives off without saying anything to you. He switches lanes, taking a road he normally doesn’t need to take home. You try to make sense of it, watching the unfamiliar city pass you by.

“Where are we going? Are you not taking me home?”

“Less questions, more silence.”

You gulp, hiding your hands between your legs. You get the feeling that you should really stay quiet right now. And you do so for the rest of the drive.

It ends on top of a rooftop parking space. Taehyung chooses the parking spot closest to the edge and furthest away from the entrance. Hidden in the darkness and overlooking the city. He turns off the motor and unbuckles the safety belt.

You look around. The street lamps flicker and give a dim light. Only three other cars are parked there. Each of them is empty.

“What are we doing here?” you ask.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For hyung’s call.”

“Wait. I can be with you during the mission?”

“It’s not my first choice, but given how you are unable to follow even the simplest of tasks, the safest you can be is where I can see you”, he speaks his words with a certain sass to them. He is still angry with you.

You lower your head in shame.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Not angry. Disappointed.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“Good. Cause I won’t save you if you ever do.”

This stings and Taehyung can see that it did. Insecure and hurt, you turn your knees away and try to hide the tremble of your lower lip. He regrets it instantly, trying to fix it.

“Hey”, he says, turning to you to cradle your cheek, “look at me.”

You obey, meeting his eyes. They are softer than before.

“I’m sorry. I take this back. You’re safe for as long as you’re my sweetheart. I’ll always save you, understood?”

“Yeah, understood”, you say, eyes hopeful.

“Good. But I can only keep you safe if you actually listen”, he says, speaking to you in a gentle voice.

You tear up, lower lip trembling.

“Tae, I’m sorry”, you choke out, having to stutter your next words, “someone called, called and said that, that they had you and that they would, would hurt you and I thought that I could sneak in and free you, but it was a trap and I-”

You have to gulp a few times before you can continue.

“I tried to disguise myself as I ran away but, but someone recognised my voice and, and they started chasing me. I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you start with this? Oh, you let me scold you like this when it wasn’t even your fault?”

He pulls you into a hug as best as the position allows it. You nuzzle into his chest, closing your eyes. Finally you are home again.

“I deserved it. I should have known better than to believe that someone is able to capture you”, you mumble into him, pouting.

“You were worried and wanted to help me. I get it”, he assures you, kissing your head, “god you. You’re driving me crazy. Don’t ever do this again, please. Call me if you ever get a weird feeling, okay? Just don’t run off on your own.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good girl”, he says and lets go of you to cup your cheeks. He dries your tears, giving you a soft smile.

You retort it. The big weight on your heart is gone. It feels good again to look at him. Everything is right between you and him.

“So you love me again?” you ask him quietly.

“I’ll always love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry for scolding you.”

“It’s okay. I deserved it. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s already forgiven. Gimme a kiss, baby”, he say, leaning in.

You meet him in the middle, kissing him gladly. You and he truly saviour it for a moment, breaking it only once air is sparse. One last little caress of your cheek, then Taehyung sits back and shifts his eyes to the city. You are holding hands.

“Are we really on a mission right now?” you ask him.

“Yeah.”

“And I can stay with you?”

“Mhm, not letting you out of my sight again. Not after what almost happened.” He glances at you. “Why? Got somewhere better to be?”

“No.” You play with his rings mindlessly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How this feels just like old times. You know, when we were hunting my family’s killers. We spent multiple nights in your car, talking and eating junk food.”

Taehyung’s eyes soften as you bring the sweet memories to the surface. He begins drawing hearts on your skin.

“I felt so shattered and hopeless back then, but you helped me heal. You were the first person to make me laugh after the incident”, you say.

“I love your laugh”, Taehyung says in a soft voice.

You avoid his eyes bashfully, heart fluttering in your chest.

The rain dances on the roof of his car, filling it with its melodies. It rained often when you and he staked out your family’s murderers. The sound of it became a memory of healing and falling in love. Now every time you are in a car and it rains, you think of Taehyung and your beginnings.

“I can’t ever lose you, Tae. Not to this life, not to cruelty or, or-”

“Hey”, he stops your anxious stuttering, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin, “what happened to your family, won’t happen to me. I promise that I won’t let people slaughter me.”

“I can’t go through this again. You’re the only family I have left. I can’t do this again”, you confess in a whisper.

“And you won’t have to.”

“When I got this call today, everything short circuited. All I could see were my dead siblings and mom and dad and, and you. All dead. I was so scared, Tae.”

“I know darling, I know.” He kisses your forehead, soothing you immensely, “I promise that the only thing you are going to lose me to is old age. I’m gonna go at a hundred and ten in my sleep.”

His cute promise makes you snicker. Taehyung joins you, squeezing your hand gently.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

You exhale shakily, looking into his eyes.

“Thank you. I promise you the same. Well, this presupposes that I actually listen and stay at home when you tell me to.”

He chuckles, eyes incredibly warm and adoring.

“I will listen. Promise. Unless you’re actually in danger, then I won’t listen. I-”, you cringe, “sorry, I’m not making it any better, am I?”

“No, you’re perfect”, he assures you and kisses you, smiling into it as he does.

You kiss him back happily and with a racing heart. He ends it by tugging on your lower lip, smiling again when he pulls back. He gives your chin a little caress, relaxing back afterwards. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, caressing it gently.

You and he enjoy a moment of rainy silence, watching the city sleep.

“So for how long do you think we have to wait for his call?” you ask after a relaxed while.

“Don’t know. Could be ten minutes, but could also be all night. Depends on how efficiently Yoongi’s guys work.”

“All night? God.” You sink into the seat. “Can’t you drop me off at home?”

“Not happening. If I have to be bored, I might as well drag you into it too. You are going to be bored with me.”

“Wow, I married such a considerate sweetheart.”

He chuckles, “besides, when was the last time we were truly alone?”

You glance at him. He is smiling playfully.

“I guess you’re right. So this is official? We’re on a date?”

“Yeah, a stake out date. Granted, I’d have preferred a dine out date, but this is good too.”

“I don’t. This is great. It’s just like old times.”

He hums and kisses your cheek, “you convinced me, but that means that we need music. Open the glove box.”

You do.

“No way. You still have the mixtapes?” you gasp, cradling the cassette tapes you made Taehyung for your first year anniversary.

“Of course I do. They’re precious to me.”

“I can’t believe that you kept them. God, you have no idea how difficult it was to make them. I had to search heaven and hell for a functioning tape recorder. Then when I finally did, I almost didn’t get it to work”, you say, feeding his car radio one of the mixtapes.

Slow jazzy music starts playing. You and Taehyung made out a lot to this mixtape. Like, a lot.

“Still totally worth it. This music is timeless”, you say and hum to it, letting your fingers dance over the dashboard.

It is rather peculiar that Taehyung doesn’t say anything or sing with you. Curious, you check up on him only to realise that he is gazing at you like a love drunk puppy.

“What’s with that face?” you ask him.

“Just thinking that you’re beautiful and that you haven’t aged a day.”

“Shut up”, you shy away, nudging his arm.

“I mean it.” He intertwines his fingers with you. “You just got more beautiful with the years.”

“Thanks”, you mumble, smiling shyly.

“Come, dance with me.”

“Dance. In the pouring rain?”

“I’ve been seeing death for days, let me have my moment of happiness.”

“Wow, you old charmer. You know just what women want to hear”, you tease him.

He laughs, squeezing your hand. He rests his head against the seat, showing you a boxy smile. His thumb draws hearts on your skin as he talks.

“What if I tell you that I’m happy that you’re my wife and that I want to kiss you in the pouring rain?”

“Mhm, that’s better.”

“See? I can be romantic too”, Taehyung jokes and gets out of the car. He rounds it and opens the door for you, helping you get outside. The door stays open so the music is still audible.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asks in a posh accent, bowing deeply.

You snicker.

“Why, yes of course you may, good sir”, you joke, doing a curtsy.

He takes your hand and melts close.

The rain pours down on you, soaking you to the bone. It doesn’t bother you at this moment. Not when Taehyung dances with you and looks at you as if you were his everything. The dance is on the slower side. It is such a nice thing to experience.

You and he don’t get to do a lot of romantic stuff. His life is busy and it is dark. Cruelty, death and constant danger force him to keep tenderness and romance as far away as possible. Nobody would take a hopeless romantic serious and daydreaming way too big would only get him killed. Taehyung needs to be reserved and cold and pragmatic in order to keep his position as a powerful, well respected and feared leader. So moments like right now are sparse and precious.

“You still know how to dance”, you say, gazing at him. His dark hair sticks to his face. He is so beautiful. Almost to the point where he doesn’t seem real.

“Of course I do. I don’t forget stuff like this”, he says and picks you up with his arms under your butt so he can twirl.

You let it happen with a happy squeal and your eyes closed. Truly, you and he are eternal in this moment. He sets you down once you are a little dizzy, nuzzling his face against yours and giggling. You giggle too.

Taehyung is playful when it is just you and him. Such moments are rare because even in your own home, there are guards or some of his goons constantly present. You and Taehyung don’t get time without witnesses often, so you sometimes forget just how playful he actually is. Until such a rare moment comes again and you are reminded.

This right now is such a moment. You and he, alone on this rooftop parking lot while other humans are far away.

You and he break apart for a moment just to twirl in the rain with outstretched arms and your faces greeting the sky.

He laughs louder and he laughs longer. He also seems to glow more and when he closes the distance to you, he does so in a playful, happy way. He skips through almost every puddle having formed on the ground, ending it by kicking some of the water at you.

“Hey”, you complain in a giddy squeal, shielding yourself. “Not cool.”

“I know. I’m an ass”, he says and puts his arms around your waist. He presses close, claiming your lips in a surprise kiss.

“Mhm”, you let out, needing a quick second to make sense of your sweet situation. When it finally sinks in, you fall hard. Your arms hook behind his head and your fingers bury themselves in his hair. You moan softly, letting his eager tongue taste you just as you taste him back.

He purrs, pressing you against the car and deepening the kiss.

You and Taehyung made out a lot to this mixtape and it seems that he wants to take you down sweet memory lane tonight. The kiss just doesn’t seem to want to end. It goes on and on and on until you feel dazed and out of breath.

He is the one to break it, visibly struggling with the effects of it. His hands just can’t come to rest on your body, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time. His quickened breath tickles your face, his eyes are hazy.

“You have to stop me”, he whispers.

“Stop you from doing what?”

“Taking you.” He grips your hips, staring at your lips. “Having you.” He kisses your neck, mouthing at it sinfully well. “Fucking you. You have to stop me from fucking you.”

Your brain totally stops working because all the blood is shooting straight to your pussy. It has been a while since you were with Taehyung. Again, he is a very busy man and romance is sparse. Tonight, you also thought that you would lose him and he has been such a sweetheart on your date. There are no reasons why you wouldn’t be turned on as well. You don’t want to stop him.

You push him away from you only to grab his leather jacket, looking into his eyes submissively.

“Fuck me.”

“Darling, you’re supposed to stop me.”

“I don’t want you to stop. Please. Take me, have me. Fuck me.”

“Here? Now?”

“Yes. Please fuck me.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake.”

He chuckles and tries to kiss you, but you stop him with a finger on his lips. Said finger, he instantly licks and kisses, looking at you as if he was sin personified.

“And please. Be mean to me and, and make it hurt a little”, you plead.

“Are you sure?” he asks, swirling his tongue around the tip of your finger. How wish this to be your nipple instead or your clit.

“Yes, I’m sure. I wanna be punished for disobeying you.”

He purrs, cradling your hand to kiss a path down your arm. Your wrist and lower arm until he does a total switch and kisses your neck instead. It feels so good that you have a difficult time to say your words.

“I wanna get one of your lessons so I won’t forget. Please…” you beg him, exposing your neck to him.

“One of my lessons?” He purrs, mouthing at your pulse point. “The one where I make it hurt and you cry so prettily for me?”

“Yeah…that one.”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He cups your face, looking into your eyes intensely. “Do you know your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Good girl, don’t forget that you can use it whenever you need to. Even when I’m really mean to you and you think that you’re not allowed to. You are always allowed to stop this. Okay?”

“Yes, okay. I trust you.”

“You can. Fuck, Imma punish you so well, make it feel so good.”

“Tae, please”, you beg, scratching down his sculpted chest because you feel oh so needy.

“Bend over for me.”

“Over the car?”

“Yes. Don’t let me wait.”

“Oh god, this is so hot.”

You let him shift you into place. He puts you over the hood of the car, guiding your arms on top of it as well. He runs his hands along your torso and to your hips.

“So pretty. Looking so ready for me to use”, he purrs and gives your ass a playful spank.

“Ah”, you let out, chasing his hand.

“Can’t wait to get my hands on you”, he says and takes out his knife. He uses it to undress you. Within seconds, he has your pants and panties cut off you, exposing your sweet holes to him.

You moan, writhing sensually. The rain is cold on your skin and the tip of his knife draws patterns on your buttocks and thighs. You know that he would never cut you, so this is just incredibly sexy to you.

“So fucking sexy”, Taehyung purrs, pushing your legs apart so your pussy was better exposed. He watches as she opens up, hole clenching needily as if it was begging for his cock. “Shit, I can’t wait to sink into you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt, “please do.”

“Trust me, I will.”

He steps back and begins undressing. He puts the knife on the hood next to you and shrugs off his leather jacket to put it over you.

“So you stay warm.”

Next he opens his zipper and pushes his briefs down to take out his hard cock and bulging balls. He jerks himself a few times, making sure that you are able to get the hardest version of him. Taehyung feels high. His cock looks so good in the rain. He can’t wait to sink it into your ready cunt.

“Tae, please hurry.”

“Don’t stress me.” He spanks you hard, making you mewl and twitch. “You’re gonna get my cock when I decide that it’s time. Not a second sooner.”

“Oh god”, you whimper, writhing on the car. He is so mean. It turns you on so much.

“There we go. That’s better”, he purrs and closes the distance to drag his bulging tip over your pussy. He started off at your ass, giving your hole one second of pressure to remind it that he could claim it whenever he wanted to. It was quite frankly, orgasmic to experience. Then he finally lets your pussy get a taste. He grinds on your clit, switching it up with circles on your needy entrance.

“Look at you. Your pussy’s begging me for cock.”

You mewl and writhe, pussy clenching even harder. His dark chuckle makes you want him even more.

“So needy.”

Your ruined pants are pooling by your ankles, keeping your movements just a little limited. Not that you plan on running away. Getting fucked in the pouring rain on top of his car while in public? A dream come true. Quite frankly, you are pretty sure that the liquid running down your inner thighs is not rain but your own arousal. This is such a turn on to you and as Taehyung finally sinks into you, you moan as sinfully as possible, pressing back to have him as soon as possible.

“That’s it. Press back. Take all of me.”

“Thank you”, you whimper, earning yourself a little caress. He likes it when you’re polite.

“So wet, darling. I’m going insane.” He rubs your lower back. “How are you doing? Do I hurt?”

“No, you feel so good. Please move.”

“Mhm, fine…I will...such a demanding girl”, he taunts, picking up a slow, dragged out rhythm as the beginning. He wants you to get used to him, to feel every fucking inch of him leave and enter you repeatedly. He wants you so sensitive to his girth that you will scream once he picks up the tempo.

He also knows that you could be so much wetter. Granted, you are already dripping, but he can do better. He wants you sticking to his cock so sinfully that even the rain won’t be able to wash you off.

The rain.

Taehyung rolls his head back, staring up into the endless darkness. The rain hits his face in thick droplets.

“Fuck darling, I can’t believe that I’m fucking you in the pouring rain like you’re a common whore I paid for a quick fuck on the parking lot.”

You squeeze down on him, knees buckling.

Taehyung smirks darkly, letting his eyes roll back just a little. Of course this would excite you. You are so obsessed with degradation.

“So fucking sexy, babygirl. I paid for the best pussy”, he taunts, playing into it for your sake.

“Tae, oh god.” You clench and throb. “Faster, please.”

“Shit, you even beg like a whore.”

“Please��, you mewl, dripping uncontrollably.

Taehyung purrs, rolling his head to the front. He digs his right hand into your hip and picks up a different rhythm. Faster. Just like you begged him to.

With his left hand he pins your arm behind your back, keeping you hostage. He likes watching how you clench and stretch your fingers helplessly as he rearranges your insides. It makes him so aware of how vulnerable and small you are and how easy it is for him to have complete control over you.

Taehyung is a big man. He wasn’t always like this. When you and he met, he was a slim man. But years of training and keeping his victims pinned down, grew his body. Sometimes, you rarely even recognize him, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. He makes you feel so safe and at the same time so small.

Especially right now. When he has you over his car, pinned into place and fed his thick cock.

“Tae-ae-ae”, he knocks his nickname out of you in a constant moan of ecstasy as he drills his cock into you.

“Yeah, you keep moaning my name. That’s who owns you, darling”, he encourages you, writing his name against your sensitive spots just to make it really stick.

“More please. More.”

“Needy slut”, he growls, hitting you straight across the ass before he picks up strength. “I can’t satisfy you, can I?”

He curses and spanks you again, making you squeal and writhe. He thinks that the view of you sprawled out on top of his car might be the best view he had all week. Gritting his teeth, he pins you down harder, knocking a helpless yelp out of you as he angles his cock deeper.

You are shaking so much, but this isn’t what he needs. Goddamn fucking pants. They’re keeping him from truly connecting with you. He wants to feel your ass against his crotch and his balls slap against you.

“More please”, you beg and Taehyung knows that this won’t be satisfactory anymore. He puts great emphasis on satisfaction. In every aspect of life, satisfaction is very important to him.

He slips out of you, ignoring your needy begs. He takes you into a gentle headlock, pressing his lips against your ear to whisper darkly. You can feel his strong chest like this, drooling on his arms as you feel the muscles bulge around you.

“I’m not satisfied. So shut the fuck up and let me do my shit. Understood?” he warns.

“Yes, please.”

“Good. Walk”, he orders and gives you a shove. Your left hand is still pinned to your back, you are still in a headlock and your legs are still constricted by your pants. If he wasn’t so strong and held you so safely, you definitely would stumble. He guides you to the backseat door.

His backseat is very spacious and you know exactly what he is going to do. You writhe in his hold, aching because it isn’t happening to you yet.

“Open it.”

You open the door.

“Get inside.”

You step out of your ruined pants and get inside. You stay on all fours, waiting for him.

Taehyung takes off his pants and briefs, keeping them outside. He climbs inside, but keeps the door open.

His touch makes you moan and stick your ass out.

“You’re such a good girl”, he praises and sinks into you.

He doesn’t waste any time, burying himself as deep as possible.

“Yes, that’s it”, he moans, rolling his head back. Another moan leaves him when he picks up a rhythm, now finally able to fuck you with all of him.

You can feel it too. Taehyung’s cock in doggy hits especially hard. He is so big. When he comes in from behind, you can really feel just how much he has to offer. He fucks places so deep that you fear for your sanity.

“Faster Tae, please.”

“You’re driving me fucking insane”, he growls, picking up speed. He spanks you three times, grabbing your wrists afterwards to pin them on your back. You rest on your shoulder, head bend to the side and cheek squished against the leather seat. You don’t want to fight him, but still squirm. Staying calm is impossible when he makes you feel so good. Besides, when you squirm it means that he will use more strength on you and this is the hottest thing ever.

His hands are big enough that he only needs to use one to keep you place, using the other to spread you apart.

“Stop squirming. I know you want me”, he warns.

“Want you”, you whimper, writhing in bliss.

“Yeah, you do. Needy slut. Take me. Take all of me. Such a good cunt. Shit, you’re the sexiest babygirl”, he is babbling, staring like an addict at his own cock in your pussy. You get him so creamed. Your pussy moves around his veiny girth so sexily. You are so stuffed and stretched. And your pretty ass. Your hole keeps clenching needily. So empty. He gathers his saliva and lets it trickle down on your hole. He plays with it a little, giving you time to stop him. You don’t stop him, you press back and arch your back.

So he sinks his thumb into you, keeping you spread with his other fingers.

You sob his name and Taehyung knows that he did something right.

“Of course you’d cry. You’re such a fucking slut”, he taunts, twisting his thumb in you as he abuses your g-spot with his cock.

You agree with more sobs. You are a slut and he is satisfying even your most whorish of needs. You are completely his’. Stuffed to the brim and moulded to him. This is everything you ever needed.

His thumb in your ass burns just perfectly. You are so tight and his thumb is so big. Pairing it with his huge cock and your stuffed pussy is an experience so sinful even the devil is afraid to speak of it. But you love speaking it, moaning his name as he pushes you to the brink of insanity.

The sound of his phone rips you back to reality. Taehyung pulls his hand away from your wrists, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looks for his phone in his jacket.

“No. No please”, you beg.

You are hurting for what is to come. Taehyung is going to pull out. You don’t want this to end. Please.

“Hey, hyung.”

You tense up. Taehyung is still inside you, fucking into you in a deep, punishing rhythm while twisting his thumb in your ass. He didn’t pull out, on the contrary, he seems to go even harder than before. You look behind yourself. He is clearly talking on the phone, keeping a piercing gaze on you.

“Yeah, I can talk”, he says and wedges the phone between his shoulder and head.

He knits his brows in warning. Quiet. This is what is telling you with it. Quiet. It should be an easy task if he didn’t slip his fingers to your clit to pinch and roll it while his cock writes his name against your g-spot and his thumb curls in your ass.

You muffle your squeaks with your own hand, begging him.

“Mhm yeah, I got it.” He talks nonchalantly, as if the fuck wasn’t affecting him, “no, yeah I got it. Anything else?”

Yoongi seems to be talking again. Taehyung listens while he rearranges your guts one harsh thrust at a time. Staying quiet is impossible, but you are forced to try. You bury your face in the seat, keeping your hand pressed to your face. He needs to slow down or you will scream.

“Got it. That was easy. Mhm? No, I’m alright. Why are you asking?”

He thrust into you. His balls slap against you, your body shudders. A small whimper escapes you.

“Oh that? No, just taking care of some business. You’re not disturbing me at all.”

Deep, hard pounding. Angry, punishing. So good. So fucking good, please you need to scream.

“As a matter of fact, you could talk to me some more if you want to.”

No please no. Please you have to scream please. Taehyung laughs deeply, tugging on your clit at the same time. You bite your own hand, hoping to any higher deity that Yoongi can’t hear the moans you have to let out. Taehyung is making you cum. It feels so good but you have to be quiet. This is agony.

“No, I get it. You’re busy too. Thanks for the info. I’ll be there in twenty. I still gotta finish this job. Judging by the state of them, it’s not gonna take long.”

Another laugh. Harsh thrusts. As if he isn’t currently fucking your climaxing body into a state of total overstimulation and pleasure overload.

“See you soon, hyung. Bye.”

He ends the call and throws the phone on the floor.

“Good job, you fucking slut actually stayed quiet. Such a good girl.”

You scream and sob instantly, clawing at the leather seats helplessly.

“What’s that? Oh? I’m making you cum and it hurts to be fucked through it? Darling, I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

He grips your hip and pulls you back on his cock. Over and over again while he tortures your poor clit and abuses your tight ass.

“Please! Please, Tae! Please!”

“Stop fucking crying. I know you. I know you beg me to stop, but deep down you want me to continue. Admit it, slut. Admit that you’re only really liking it when I make it hurt.” he snarls, showing you your truth one painful thrust at a time. He isn’t wrong. You fucking love it when it hurts, when he is making it feel as if he is forcing his cock into you, as if he is forcing you to your luck. This is when it starts to really feel good.

“Oh god, Tae. It hurts, I have to- again. Ah!”

“See! I know you. What a dirty pain slut you are. Cum for me, babygirl. Cum for your master”, he encourages you, helping you through your intense high until you clasp the seat and kick and squirt everywhere. “Such a good girl, let go. Give me everything.”

“Please breed me! Please!”

“Mhhm fuck…” he growls, scrunching his nose, “beg for it.”

“Please! Please! Please!”

“There we go. Now stay still”, he orders and pins you down into the seat. He curls his thumb inside your abused ass, pressing down in his cock this way. His thrusts are harsh and bring you to your limit. This is for him. You can feel it clearly. This is for him and he doesn’t give a shit how sensitive you are.

Your little sobs are only motivating him to rut into you deeper until he finally finds his release.

He moans your name as it hits him, burying his cock as deep as possible so you feel it fill you to the fucking brim.

“Yours, Tae…yours…”

“Yeah mine. All mine. Fuck, you feel so good. Mhhmmmm…”

He stops once he is satisfied. He slips his thumb out of your ass and uses his hands to take your wrists and pin them above your head.

His cock is still inside you, throbbing slowly as he recovers from his high.

“Good job. My good girl. Breathe baby, breathe. It’s over now”, he soothes you, kissing a path up your back before he lies down on top of you, kissing your neck slowly. “Breathe. It’s over.”

You breathe with him. You feel so ruined and satisfied. You could honestly cry and maybe you do. Taehyung kisses the tears away.

“How’s the pain? Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s so good”, you mumble, sniffling.

“Mhm, that’s what I like to hear. My good girl. You did so well.”

“Tae, wanna look at you.”

“Let me help you.”

With his guiding hands he flips you over. Sadly, he has to slip out for it. You instantly leak, wishing for him to be back inside you. Your eyes meet.

“Hey, how are you?” he whispers, cupping your cheek softly.

You whimper tiredly, nodding your head to showcase that you were okay but you were just very exhausted.

“You did so well, I’m so proud of you”, he praises and kisses your cheek.

You mumble something unintelligible. Taehyung studies you from head to toe.

“Fuck, I was really rough with you, wasn’t I? You look ruined. Are you sore?”

You nod your head, but smile happily.

“You are? Fuck, you’re not bleeding are you?”

He checks. You let him, opening your legs for him. You know that you aren’t because Taehyung would never make you bleed (unless you want him to. No further questions please).

“No, you’re not. Fuck, but you look so loose. You can’t even keep it in. Sorry, baby. Here, let me make it better. Relax. Let me help you.”

He lies down between your legs as best as the car allows it, putting your legs over his shoulders. He cups your tits as a little treat for you and connects his mouth with your tender pussy.

“Ah”, you get out, arching your back and grabbing his hair. The pleasure is instant, going so fucking deep.

He is so warm and soft. And so gentle. He is so fucking gentle that it shoots tears to your eyes.

“Tae, oh god.”

“Mhhhm I love well fucked pussy. You taste like heaven, babygirl”, he lulls, lapping at you hungrily afterwards. He rolls your nipples over your shirt, gazing up at you.

“Good…aaahm…”

“Mhhm, so good…”

This is why you love him. This right here is why there won’t ever be a better lover than him. He can break you and ruin you, but he will always make sure to soothe you and build you back up afterwards. His mouth can spit the meanest things, but he will make sure to use it for adoration afterwards. You won’t ever feel ugly or disgusting or used after Taehyung was rough with you because he will make sure that you feel how much he appreciates you. And how fucking deep his respect for you goes.

Almost as deep as his wet tongue goes as he laps out the massive creampie he left in you. His nose rubs your clit like this, forcing you to whimper and tremble. His lips stimulate your outer pussy. You are so sensitive, but it feels so good. His fingers on your nipples do the rest.

“Tae, I have to cum again”, you sob, throwing your hand over your eyes, “oh god, Tae. It’s-” little mewls silence you.

Taehyung moans, burying his face deeper in your pussy. He uses his nose to really get your clit, curling his tongue inside you.

He knows the moment it hits you because you squeak and tug on his hair painfully before the deep pulsing of your pussy sets in. Taehyung helps you through it, moaning deeply and enjoying it just as much as you do.

It feels so good to you. He makes you feel so safe and loved and deeply satisfied. Satisfied to the point where even his tender mouth hurts after your high. You writhe away, pulling at his hair.

“No more, please. No more.”

Taehyung listens, letting you tug him away. He kisses a path up to your face, holding you close once he reaches it.

“Thank you”, he whispers between his kisses, “thank you for letting me taste it. Did you like this?”

“Yeah”, you whimper, twitching in his arms as your body recovers from the gentle yet still intense high.

“That’s good. You’re the best girl. I’m so proud. And fucking high on you. Can’t get enough of you.”

You snicker, snuggling into him.

“I love you, babygirl.”

“I love you too. Oh god, I feel so giddy”, you confess and giggle, squeezing him.

“That’s good to hear. I love when you’re happy after sex. Was it good for you?”

“Yeah it was so good. You did everything so right. I was so overstimulated and it hurt, but you didn’t stop”, you sigh dreamily, “thank you so much. You know me so well and I…I feel so safe with you.”

“You are safe with me, darling.” He smiles his giddiest boxy smile, brushing his fingers over your face. You rest in his strong arms, basking in the safety he provides and getting droopy from his warm post-sex scent. He smells especially good after sex.

“I can’t believe someone so perfect is mine”, he whispers, “I’ll think about tonight forever.”

“Me too. Oh god, I can’t stop giggling. I feel so good”, you say and giggle.

He smiles, scrunching his nose giddily. He likes you so much when you’re like this. You are especially cute, making him want to protect you and hold you close.

And he does. He gives you one of his really tight bear hugs, increasing your giggles and happiness

Taehyung’s phone rings again, kind of ruining the moment.

“Ah shit, Yoongi! I completely forgot!” Taehyung exclaims and rolls over so aggressively that he rolls off the seats. “Crap, he’s gonna kill my ass. Twenty minutes I said. Twenty. I’m a dead man, seriously. Where is this fucking phone?”

You snicker, watching him scramble to get his phone.

“Don’t just laugh at me. Help me look”, he whines, only making you laugh harder.

“I can’t. You were so funny when you fell off the seat with your naked ass out.”

He chuckles and pecks your lips.

“Haha very funny, now help me look.”

“Okay, okay fine. Where did you throw it?”

736 notes · View notes

suiana · 9 months ago

Text

yandere! symbiote and loser basement core reader who only stays in their room all day. imagine a yan symbiote like venom from idk what its called but tha sexy vemon symbiote thing👅

anyway this symbiote thought you were a freaking god amongst humans because you were actually touching grass for once and was walking outside!!! so he decided to bond with you because, like, that's what symbiotes do you know. also his old host died.

little did he know...

"lol this fucking loser is so-"

"you're the loser."

he swears he feels his braincells leaving every single day he spends with you. how did you live like this??? the last time he saw the sun was like a month ago! you even told him you're getting all your vitamin D from the blue light your tiny screen uses!

"please... go out..."

"clip that chat."

you couldn't be fucking real. he was the most powerful alien back home! and now you're treating him like he doesn't even exist???

"i'm getting lunch, you want anything?"

"human, i crave the souls of the innocent."

"okay so a bagel."

"no."

"two bagels."

"NO."

he can't help but be enchanted by your whimsy though!!! like okay... you're a loser, so what? you're HIS loser. so while he's.... disturbed by your lifestyle, he's glad you don't interact with others-

"hahaha look at this hottie, i wanna lick his abs."

...he's so gonna break your damn phone.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere symbiote #yandere symbiote x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

1K notes · View notes

roanniom · 5 months ago

Note

hi issa! i hope all is well and im so glad you’re back! you are literally one of the best writers ever (and literally my favorite person who writes for eddie) ! i hope you’re day is going good 💛

i would love to request cute; needy eddie phone call (you can make it spicy if you want), maybe the reader went on a girls trip and the reader calls him once at the hotel and he is just miserable 😩

Hi there anon! I'm doing okay, but writing is making everything better. Super happy to do this request.

On the Line

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation

"Eddie. I've been gone for half a day. I was literally with you this morning." You try to make your voice sound reproachful, but your smile cannot be hidden. You're in your hotel room getting ready to go down for dinner with your friends.

"I knowwww, don't remind me. It has been AGONY!"

You hear a muted thump which you imagine to be Eddie throwing himself on his couch near the landline.

"Well what are you doing to distract yourself from this agony?" you ask with amusement.

"I tried touching myself, but I'll be honest, it's more effective now that I can hear your voice, babe."

"EDDIE MUNSON!"

"Whaaaat? What else is there to do?"

"I don't know. Go outside? Maybe touch some grass, you fucking horn dog," you laugh, laying back on the hotel bed.

"I can't exactly go jerk off on the grass, Mrs. Jenkins said she'd call the cops if she ever caught me doing that again - ,"

"Eddie. I will smack you."

"Ugh, don't make promises you can't keep. What do you think I've been imagining?"

You slap an exasperated hand over your face and Eddie moans.

"What was that? Smacking your own ass to give me some auditory stimulation, princess? Do it again!"

"No, that was me covering my eyes from the shame of having such a perverted boyfriend."

"Don't pretend you aren't just as perverted, sweetheart. Even Mrs. Jenkins knows, with how loud you usually are - ,"

"Edward. Munson."

"Mmmm yeah. Say my name, baby."

You can't help but dissolve into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

"Are you actually touching yourself right now?"

"Think about that question for a second. Really let that simmer for me."

Suddenly you hear the most obscene, wet squelching coming from the phone. It's so sudden and so rapid that you pull the phone away from your ear for a second. Clearly Eddie had put the receiver down where he was...taking care of himself.

"Eddie..." you say, but this time it is less reproachful and more breathless.

"Princess." His voice is less humorous now. A little deeper. A little scratchy.

"I have to go in a few minutes..." you trail off wistfully. You've begun to tune into Eddie's more labored breathing.

"Sure about that?"

His voice is gruff. You want to laugh but suddenly find that you can't.

"You know I can still smell your perfume in this fucking trailer, right? Like a god damn temptress. Why would you do that to me, honey?"

The phone is clearly by his lips as you can hear him loud and clear. But similarly loud and clear is the sound of his hand on his cock. Now moving furiously.

But you're not the only one hearing new things.

"I can hear you breathing heavier, baby." Eddie says it conspiratorially. There is the distinct sound of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah well you're turning me on. I'm only fricken human, you know."

"No. I don't know that. Pretty sure you're a goddess." Eddie finishes his statement with a groan. "So what are you wearing...my goddess."

You clutch the phone to your ear and look down at your outfit.

"Well, we're all going out tonight so I'm wearing that sparkly top that you said was too sexy for The Hideout."

"Are you fucking with me right now, sweetheart?" Eddie chokes out. You imagine that he's gripping himself, trying not to cum at the mere image of you in the revealing garment. "You mean to tell me...we've been talking all this time and your tits have just been...out?"

"I'm not naked, Eddie. It's just low cut," you argue, but your body begins to heat up all the same.

"Low cut, huh?" he asks gruffly. "Why don't you reach into that low cut top and touch yourself for me then."

"Oh...kay." You don't even fight him. Your hand cups your breast under the fabric.

"Make sure to pinch and twist your nipples a little. For me."

As if pleasuring yourself will inherently bring him physical pleasure. Which you guess it does, because when you inhale sharply at the feeling, Eddie lets out a moan. You hesitate for a second.

"Is Wayne - ,"

"At work. Don't bring up that old man when I'm so close to cumming." Eddie barks with frustration. You release a breathy chuckle.

"You're already close?"

"Babe. I've been touching myself for hours. I've been on the edge this whole conversation."

"Yeah?" you ask, egging him on.

"Yeah, baby. I'm about to blow hearing your sweet voice."

"Well....you should know that I'm wet." You're being honest. The idea of having to go downstairs in a few minutes is becoming less appealing by the second.

"Oh fuck."

"Yeah. I really want to touch myself, baby."

"Do it." Eddie practically orders.

"I can't," you say, though one of your hands does begin to slide south, between your breasts, down the plane of your stomach, to cup yourself beneath your skirt. You keep the phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder so you can keep one hand on your breast, fingers tweaking your nipple.

"I need you, baby." It comes out more submissive than his previously demanding tone. You lower your voice to match.

"I know, Eddie. Can you cum for me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? You'll cum for me?" You hear his breathing pick up. From the sound of his stroking, he's right there. You rub your palm over your clothed pussy, feeling your clit ache with need.

"Fuck. Yeah I'll...fuck."

"That's it baby, cum for me."

The gasping and sputtering on the other side of the phone overwhelms you and you find yourself grinding against your hand in vain. You won't be able to take care of yourself. Not yet at least. But you know that when you get back to your hotel room later tonight, one of those pillows are really in for it.

"Fuuuck, princess."

"That good, huh?" you ask, cheekily.

"Don't act all proud of yourself," Eddie admonishes playfully. "There's nobody here to clean me up."

Your heart (and pussy) pound at the reference to the way you usually lick up the evidence of his pleasure.

"I'll be back before you know it, handsome."

Eddie sighs.

"You have to go now, don't you." It isn't a question. You laugh.

"I had to go fifteen minutes ago. But I guess you had to cum first."

~*~

---

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what your favorite part was!

#issa's writing day #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson fan fic

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fictionalmenxyn · 8 months ago

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᯾𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬᯾

Pairing: dad!husband!rafe x mom!wife!reader

Pt.2 of honey, I’m home (as requested!)

Warnings: language, mentions of period and pregnancy

᯾᯾᯾

It’s been a couple weeks since Rafe had gotten home from his business trip for Cameron Development. Life has been amazing… up until the week that was supposed to be your period.

You are now five days late… this wasn’t like you. Even Rafe knew you had a regular period. He had the app for you, so he knew when to give you even more attention and loving. Which he does, this time only more.

You were currently over TannyHill. The kids wanted to go see their Aunt Sarah. So that’s exactly what you were up to now. You had bought pregnancy tests earlier that morning. Planning on doing them soon, just to be sure.

You and Rafe always wanted a big family. I mean, you can from one. And Rafe loved your family dearly, loving how they were practically like his siblings… even if it’s just through marriage. He loved them like his own.

You told Sarah, “hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom, can you keep an eye on these?” Gesturing to the boys who were playing trucks in the grass of the backyard. She smiled and nodded “of course, you go do what you need to.”

You walked back into the house, going over to your bag. You pulled out the box and put them into your pocket.

After sometime, waiting for the sticks to work. You held up the first one. You took a deep breath. Oh. My. God… you’re pregnant… really?? Or is it just the first stick… you go to check the other one.. oh, this also says the same…

Oh my god…

You’re pregnant… actually pregnant… again!

You head back to the backyard, Sarah asked “everything, okay? You took a while…” Sarah joked “didn’t get lost did you?” Knowing full well that you knew TannyHill like the back of your hand.

You smiled softly “no… but this…” you handed her the pregnancy test.

This felt normal for you. Sarah was the first to know since she’d always go to the drug store with you to buy them. Also cause she was like a sister to you. Sis you don’t have sisters. Just brothers.

She gasped “no way?! Really!!” You nodded “but don’t go telling anyone outside of the family… it’s only been a week since I’ve been late of my period, okay?” She nodded.

Later that day, Ward and Rose knew. Rose knew because she just had that ‘feeling’ and Ward walked in when Rose gasped lot of excitement. Thinking something was wrong he went to go check, that’s when he was told.

It was now evening, Rafe would be coming home from Golf soon. You sat on the couch. The boys playing on the rug with their toys as you watch the tv.

You heard the door open and your favourite voice “hey baby?! You here?!” You called out “living room!”

You could hear him put his golf clubs bag down in the foyer. Then his footsteps getting closer.

He sat on the couch next to you. Spreading his legs comfortably, and purposefully touching his knee with yours. As he’s always done since you both had been together. After he fussed the three boys. He rested his arms on the backs of the couches. His index finger tracing patterns into your shoulder.

“So? How’ve you been all day? You had fun with the kids up TannyHill?” You smiled softly and nodded. Taking another bite of a grape before holding the bowl out to him. Silently offering. He smirked “only if you feed me one.” You playfully roll your eyes.

As you fed Rafe one grape. Cody called out “me! Me!” Rafe smirked “think someone else wants to be fed a grape, sweetheart…” you hold one out for Cody… then Morgan… Toby was still too young to eat a big grape. So you fed him a snack puff.

You put Morgan on your lap, as he wanted some cuddles from you. You reached into your pocket and placed the pregnancy test on his lap. Like it was the most casual thing ever. You thought of different was each time to surprise him. But the casualness of it would be more surprising.

He lifted it up and saw the two lines. “No way… seriously?!” You held your hand to your face. Trying not to cry, like every other time. His smile grew as he saw you nod.

Rafe spoke loudly “Babe! Now way!? Are you fucking kidding me?!” You spoke playfully yet sternly “Rafe! Language!” He nodded “oh yeah, my bad…” he took Morgan off of your lap. Which Morgan pouted at. Rafe told Morgan “you’ll get her back, let daddy give momma some love, buddy.”

Rafe pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you into a soft yet passionate kiss. When he pulled away, Rafe spoke “god, you’re just the best, love, god, I love you so much…” you replied “I love you too…”

Morgan sensed the happiness after watching you two kiss. He called his fists and lifted his arms and yelled “Yay! Momma!” You and Rafe both laugh.

Rafe told Morgan “Yes, bud! Yay momma!” Cody and Toby come over. Rafe held both of your wrists and moved your arms up and down as he playfully chanted “momma! Momma! Momma!”

The boys, practically being carbon copies of him, soon joined in. All four of your boys started chanting “momma! Momma! Momma!”

After tha chanting died down, Rafe smirked “you better give me a girl this time, baby…” you laughed “I’ll try my best…” he smirked “good…” he gave you another kiss. God, you were his woman, his wife, mother of his children… his world

᯾᯾᯾

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lostinlads · 7 months ago

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Floof Attack

Synopsis: Xavier had always been a clingy kitty, one of the perks working from home is that he could always be at your side. But leaving for a few days to attend your friend's wedding had been a mistake. You find your sweet boy out in the garden. With his back turned to you, you try to draw his attention, but he only feels abandoned. How do you deal with a sulking Xavikitty? Well, you don't need any hints. You know exactly where to pet to get a cat purring.

Tags: xavier x afab!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, no use of y/n, smut, porn with little plot, not proofread, guided handjobs, outdoor sex, fluff, use of pet names (kitty, sweet star, darling, sweet boy, my love), pouty xavier, yearning, soft sex, CATBOY!XAVIER, jeremiah and jenna mention

Words: 4.2k

a/n: in light of the new banner and my hyperfixation on catboys i have decided to release fics about them! i hope you enjoy! ive been sitting on these plots since they have been announced so they arent 100% accurate to the cards but they have my own spin on them!

ao3 | Yes, Cat Caretaker master list | kofi

You step out of the cab and as soon as your feet touch the ground you sigh, happily. You're home, finally. After a weekend away for Jenna's wedding you wanted nothing more than to climb onto your couch, stretch out and nap - but not without your loving kitty, Xavier. He had been upset with you leaving for the weekend, not able to bring him along, to the point he nearly stole your suitcase from you to force you to stay. The look on his sad face as you closed the door on him etched into your mind - the slight tremble to his lip, his wide blue eyes glossy, and his fluffy ears sagging as he stood in the living room watching you go.

Your mutual friend Jeremiah stopping by a few times a day with takeout, so Xavier doesn't burn your house down and to keep him company. Even sending you a few sneakily taken pictures of him napping, curling in on himself, fluffy tail resting over his stomach. It only made you miss him more and more each day, to feel his soft fur under your fingertips, his warm body enveloping you as you sleep, to see him perched on the counter as you make food. It only took you three days to realize how much he took up your life, how every little thing made you think of him.

But you were finally home, walking up to your front door as the weight in your chest finally lifts. As you make your way inside, noting the stillness of the house as you set your bags by the door. You want to call out to him, but the thought of waking your sleepy kitty stops you in your tracks.

An hour ago, Jeremiah left, messaging you that he left Xavier on the couch sleep as he left your home. Seeing that he wasn't there, only left you the option to go look for him. You make your way through your small, shared home, looking in all of his usual hang out and nap spots to find nothing. You peek out of your kitchen window, out to your garden. Seeing movement your eyes catch a glimpse of a pair of fluffy ears, and a thick swishing tail.

Grabbing the small gift bag you brought home for him, you make your way outside. Lush grass under your sandals, birds singing in nearby trees, the scent of flowers filling your senses. Xavier was found crouching by a patch of forget-me-nots, ears flicking back towards you, obviously listening to your footsteps as you approach. You sit behind him on the small bench next to a tree, placing the bag beside you as you watch your sweet kitty.

"I'm home," Your voice sweet, almost relieved. Xavier's tail swishes and his ears flick back towards you before they fixate themselves forward again.

''Hmph," He pouts, not taking his eyes from his flowers. Your sulking Xavikitty obviously isn't impressed with your leave, not wanting to even talk to you shows how upset he was for being left home alone. Time to step up your game and hopefully make it up to your sensitive cat boy.

You reach into the bag at your side, fingers brushing past the dried fish treats, small cat toys, and finally land on the cat wand. You pull it out, slowly in hopes the bell doesn't jingle just yet. Holding it out to his side you pause before you shake it. Watching the sun rays on his creamy white skin, making his light blond hair glow like an angel. The fluff of his ears almost creating a halo around his head. Times like this, you are reminded how blessed you were that he was your companion, having the most beautiful cat person at your side for a lifetime. With a smile you shake the toy, a soft jingle perking his ears high on his head.

"...A bell?" He questions, whipping around fast. His eyes find the toy, then slowly trail up to you making eye contact. His ears droop, a pout set on his pink lips as he looks at you. You take the opportunity to shake the toy again, summoning him closer to you. Luckily it works, Xavier turning more as you lift the toy in the air above his head. You watch him try to catch it, just out of his reach, hands clasping nothing but air as you move it away, closer to you. He follows it, crawling closer to you until you finally let him grasp it. One hand closing around the toy as the other closes around your hand, holding it still long enough for him to slip the wand from it.

"I'm pretty sure you got what you wanted. Why are you still shaking it?" Pouting as he places the wand at his feet, brows furrowed as he looks into your eyes. His hand never leaves yours, the warmth of his skin on yours already melting your heart, telling you that you're home, that your love is right here.

"I haven't, actually." You say with a shake of your head, his ears perking back up. "But I'm close to getting it." Taking his hesitation, you slip your hand from his grasp, other hand coming up to his soft ear. Xavier dodges your touch, moving his head to the side as he lets out a shocked gasp. But you reach back, his ear twitching just before your fingers slowly caress his soft fur. He hums, almost as if he's proving a point, leaning gently into your touch. Blush creeping up to his cheeks, painting them a beautiful soft pink as his eyes meet yours again. Shiny blue eyes with gorgeous long eyelashes landing on your face, obvious protest in them as he almost forces himself to still hold a grudge.

"So you remembered to be gentle with my ears," He pouts once more in an almost whine. Lips pursed, eyebrows scrunched, accusingly. You laugh, rubbing his soft hair, loving your pouty kitty. Though it wasn't often, Xavier could be one of the most pouty, whiny cats you've ever met. Usually after meeting stray cats or occasionally men, coming home and smelling them on your clothes and skin, always huffing with his ears flat to his hair.

Your hand travels back up to his ear, sensitive to the touch as always. Thumb pressing firm against his inner ear, fingers wrapping behind as you stroke up, thick fur slipping between as you make your way back down. Xavier's breath deepens, eyes closing in the sensation of his hypersensitivity. You glide your hand back up to the tip, rubbing the thin flesh between your hand - something that always drove him crazy.

"Why do you keep pushing your luck when you find an opening?" He pants out, breath heavy as he revels in your touch. Dragging your hand down, you cup his cheek. A sweet smile playing on your lips as your thumb swipes along his smooth, soft skin. He leans into you, wanting nothing more than to nuzzle into your warmth - something he has been denied for the entire weekend. As he tries, you pull away, his ears drooping, eyes softening into an almost pathetic plea for you.

"We don't stop halfway when it comes to these things, right?" His own way of begging you to continue, to please and love on him until he gets his fill. You obey with a soft chuckle, hand reaching up to his untouched ear to stroke it. Both twitching at your touch, an instant reaction as your fingers glide over the fur. Slowly, his composure slips, leaning his head against your arm as you brush your nails over him. His hot breath fanning on your skin as he moves his head to match your motions, intensifying the sensation. You watch as your kitty's eyes roll, lids fluttering shut as his lips part, his blush deepening under his pretty eyes. His fluffy tail behind him sways almost on its own in satisfaction.

"Yeah..." He moans out, lids lifting as his lustful gaze meets yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, his hand coming to caress your arm, urging you to continue. "Right there. By my ear..." He pleads, another breathy moan slipping from his lips, shooting right to your core. His head turns, unable to control himself as his rough tongue kitten licks up your forearm, lips placing a gentle kiss to your wrist. Wetness grows between your thighs, seeing him crumble so easily from just a touch made you want to consume him. Have him shake with you, hot bodies pressing together in a way you have missed far too much since leaving him.

"I think this cat likes other stuff besides bells," The heaviness in your tone couldn't be ignored, a crack in your composure as you slide your hand from his head, fingers gliding over his before they come to rest back on your lap. Ears drooping from loss of contact, he pouts, eyes drift to the ground. Xavier's warm, soft hands come to rest on your thighs, sad blue eyes looking back up to your own.

"But even if I like it..." He pauses, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them, sulking. "I can't forgive you for abandoning me. Not yet." Oh, how you wanted to scoop him up in your arms, kiss him until he was drunk, watch his face flush a deep pink. Your sweet boy still feeling hurt from your small trip, engraving in your mind that you will never leave him again.

You reach out, cupping his chin with all the love you have in you. His ears twitch once before standing high on his head, his big blue ragdoll eyes widen at the gentle touch. His plush tail swaying lazily behind him, showing how much he loved the attention.

"Then can you tell me what's the best way to comfort my cat?" You ask, voice silky and warm. Thumb sliding up, pushing his top lip so you can see his beloved canine teeth, a shocked gasp leaving his open mouth. Your kitty never being one to show aggression, but you wouldn't have minded a bite or two to ease his satisfaction.

"Not like this," He whispers, head falling as he mopes. Eyes laying back to the ground again as his ears fall, tail drooping behind him on the soft, lush grass, his face moving just out of touch.

You reach out again, fingers scratching under his chin. Nails grazing his skin, his eyes flutter closed at the comforting gesture, something he is all too familiar with. Soft swishing of his tail swaying faster in the grass as he leans into your touch for just a moment.

"Mmm, it's nice..." Xavier hums, almost appraising what you have to offer. "But this isn't what I'm looking for." More confidence leaks out of your usual soft-spoken kitty. He quickly grasps your hand, pulling it off of his chin, pressing your fingers to the base of his throat.

"You're good at dealing with your kitty," He rises from his sunken position, up onto his knees. Your lover's hand slowly guides yours to his clothed chest. "You don't need any hints, right?" Under your touch you could feel his heartbeat as you pass, quick and pounding in his chest. His breath quickening as you stop right between his ribs, clothed flesh brushing against your open hand as he heaves. You know what he wants, you can sense it in every way, from his voice to his touch, to the way his eyes land on you. But he also knows better, to use his words like a good kitty, ask you directly for what he wants - he knows you would always give in. So, since he refuses to speak, you scratch his chest, a low purr vibrating in his throat as your nails rake over him. He pants out, head lulling forward for just a moment before you look up at him. Face blazed in pink blush, blue eyes half lidded and glossy - so fucking needy.

"I guess you know exactly where to pet to get a cat purring, huh?" Xavier stands, using the tree beside both of you to steady himself as his large frame looms over you, He continues to trace your hand down his body, stopping at the waist of his pants, just your fingertips making contact now. You look up at his breathtaking face, his thin eyebrows knitting together in frustration, a famous pout on his kissable lips. He lifts his chin, cocking his head to the side as he waits, expectantly. "Why not try here?" He wastes no time placing your hand on the crotch of his pants, an obvious bulge in your hand as you cup it.

"Xavier," Your brows knitting together as you try your best to sound stern. His ears falter for just a moment, his big ragdoll eyes widening in worry of being punished. "We talked about you using your words. Tell me." You coo, thumbing over his erection. He takes a moment, shivering under your touch as he lets out a shaky breath.

"Please..." He begs, fingers tightening around your wrist, urging you to touch him. "Please love me..." His words coming out in an almost a cry, every emotion from the past weekend crashing through him as he pours his heart out to you in those simple three words. And how could you possibly resist, from the way he spoke to the sad look on his perfect face. You let your free hand slip up under his cotton shirt, fingers dusting over his abs as your other hand curled under the waist band of his sweatpants. He helps you tug them down, a painfully large bulge emerging face to face with you as it tents his boxers. Always needy, always for you.

You take a moment to admire him, something you had been denied all weekend but wanted more than life itself. Eyes trailing from the milky skin of his exposed stomach to the tuft of dark blond hair that trailed under the band of his boxers. If he hadn't needed your touch so urgently, you would've taken the time to run your fingers down it, placing lazy kisses from his navel to his pelvis on the slow mornings you usually shared. But from his hot flesh under your skin you could feel that there was no time, that you two had so much to say that didn't involve words. Curling your fingers under the waistband of his boxers you hear him suck in a breath. No matter how many times the two of you made love, every single gesture from you stole his breath away, just like how one look from him could do the same to you.

"Please..." His voice almost inaudible now, bottom lip quivering as you look up at him. You don't waste time, pulling down his boxers and setting him free, springing to life in front of your face.

"Oh, my sweet star," You coo, watching him twitch under your gaze, the pink tip leaking. With a whimper, he guided your hand to him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his already pulsing cock, soft bush of groomed hair tickling your flesh. Xavier lets out a gasp, a deep rumble of a purr humming in his chest as his eyes flutter shut from the contact. Here he was, your sweet kitty, right in front of you trembling under your touch. God how you have missed this, you didn't know how only three days would drive you mad without him by your side. But here he was, huffing as you slowly slide your hand from base to tip as his hold on you loosens.

You swipe your thumb over his sensitive tip, watching the shiver ripple over him, whimpering as his eyes squeeze even more closed. The juices helping you slip your hand back down with ease, slick enough for you to pick up pace and not need to worry about too much friction. The soft schlick every time you passed over his head making your thighs tremble, already so spent for you. It made you wonder how much it took to control himself while you were away, seeing the frustration on his face every time Jeremiah came to the door instead of you.

Xavier dragged his hand up your arm, fingers dusting your skin as they came to rest on your bicep, feeling your flexing muscle as you work him. The rumbling of his purring a steady hum surrounding you, broken up with small moans floating from his slacked jaw. You take the opportunity to delicately run your nails down the contours of his abs, drawing a lovely hiss from him that swarmed around your brain. His fingers tightening around your bicep for just a moment, a warning, before loosening once more. You see the faint red marks bloom on his pale skin, the way it moves with every heavy breath that graces his lungs. His cock jumping in your hand, telling you that he needed more, that he needed to cum just for you. Leaning in you place a kiss to your markings, lips barely touching before he cries out, hips thrusting into your hand, face bumping into his stomach.

You hum against him, the vibrations coaxing another whimper from him as his hand clasps on your wrist again, holding it still as he fucks himself into it. The growing slick in your palm only showing how close he was to release, not like the vein throbbing at a steady pace couldn't give him away. Xavier chokes out another cry above you, hips stuttering before they stop completely.

"M-more," Eyes opening as he begs you. You don't have the option to ask what more he needs, his hand lifts from your wrist as he pulls you to your feet, not letting you catch your balance before he crashes his lips onto you. The hunger, want, and longing that has been festering inside of him explodes on your senses as his lips fight against yours, sloppy and out of rhythm. He pushes you a few steps back, against the tree that shaded you from the sun hanging above. The feeling of the rough bark against your back, and his attack on your no doubt swollen lips only made every small sensation heighten. His soft, fuzzy tail swishing, brushing your ankle, the slight breeze kissing your heated skin. His hands running down your body, gripping you by your hips before grinding himself onto you. It all felt so much but yet not enough at the same time.

"I need you, Xavier," You breathe out as you break the kiss, huffing, your breath fanning over his face. Not wasting any time, he pulls the hem of your dress up and pushes your panties to the side, his lips latching onto anything it can find in a rushed sense of need - finding your neck. He hums against you as his long fingers swipe up your slit, finding how wet warm you were, your body telling him how needy you were for him in return. Eyes widening as you gasp out, hands clutching onto his shoulders as one of his fingers eases its way inside - pumping once, twice, before a second is added.

"Mmm, missed you so much..." The confession tugging at your heart, his delicate voice a harsh contrast compared to what his body was doing to you. A moan bubbling from your throat, the feeling of his fingers curling to your sensitive spot deep inside made you clutch onto him more.

Xavier pulled his fingers from you, leaving you whimpering and clenching around air. The empty feeling inside of you didn't last long, his still leaking cock slipped through your folds and into you, making your brain buzz from how full you felt. Xavier had always been big, filling you to the brim and hitting all of the best spots inside, but something felt different this time. Maybe because how close he had been before pulling you away, or maybe it's the passion that bound you two together, but the feeling of him inside of you, twitching against your walls, only made you want him more.

"Feel so good, Xavi," You praise, feeling his ear twitch against your cheek like a passing kiss. His long tail curled around your ankle, lifting your leg to tell you silently to move. You oblige, hooking it over his hip, sending his cock that much deeper inside you, making you toss your head back against the rough tree. He purrs, deep and rumbling, feeling it through his back as you hook your arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to be as close to him as possible.

Hips pulling back for just a moment, almost entirely out of you, then he snapped them back. Breathy moans fill your ears as he thrusts again, hot kisses trailing from your throat, up your neck, dancing over your cheek, and crashing back onto yours - spit wetting your skin in its wake. You allow him, swallowing his moans in your mouth, tongue lapping at his own, fingers threading through his feather soft locks. Nothing but love and longing shared between you, every touch pushing each other towards that delicious edge as he continued his fervent thrusts into you, soaking your thighs and his with your love.

The passion almost became too much for him as his hands gripped you tighter, desperate to confirm you were here with him again, that you were dancing this same old dance you have done hundreds of times before. He needed you, even now he needed more of you until you were the only thing that consumed him, the passion burning on his fingertips as he traced them up your bare thighs, over your panty clad hips, and onto your waist. He pushed you back towards the tree, the bark scratching at your bare ass cheeks but you didn't care, the only thing in the world that mattered held you there.

"Wanna cum in you," Lips brushing yours as he barely pulled back enough to speak, breath mingling with yours as you both pant for air. Who were you to deny your kitty that? The tight coil wound so much in your stomach you almost released at that, imagining being filled with his seed, and eventually with a swollen stomach from his litter.

"Mmm, want to put your babies in me, Kitty?" You tease, barely, not having enough in you to lighten your tone. His hips snap, cock pushing against that mouthwatering spot inside of you, making you arch your back and moan into his open mouth, eyes fluttering closed. Xavier purrs louder, hair and ears brushing against you as you feel him nodding fast.

"Please," Voice high and whiny as his hips begin to grow sloppy, his movements stuttering for a moment before he continues. "Please let me fill you, darling. Please!" He cries, burying his face into your neck once more, damp forehead against your sweaty shoulder. Your fingers tug softly at his roots, so fucking close to that edge you could see off of it, one small step and you would be flying through the air.

"Fuck..." Moaning, you arch your back off of the tree once more. "Cum in me Xavier, give it to me!" You cry, the last of your self control leaving as you shake around him, sex pulsing on his cock as you release.

His isn't far behind, you feel him twitch as the first rope coats your walls, a mewl muffled against your skin as his body shudders. Xavier empties himself entirely in you, seed dripping from your cunt as his cock softens inside, making a mess of both your legs and panties. Chests bumping together with every breath as you two attempt to control your rapid, speeding hearts. His hands never leave you, only softening his hold to a gentle caress, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your silky skin.

Xavier is the first to speak, saying your name so quietly you almost didn't hear him over the roar of your heart in your ears.

"Yes, my sweet boy?" Breathy, but calming, you brush your fingers through his hair, not forgetting to give a soft scratch behind his ear, rewarding your good boy.

"Please don't leave me again," You could almost cry at how helpless he sounds, how much this hurt him. With gentle hands, you cup his hot cheeks, pulling his face in front of yours so you can meet the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. Glossy and wide, so beautiful yet fucked out at the same time. Placing a soft kiss to the tip of his pink nose, you smile, the corners of your lips pulling up.

"I'll never leave you again, my love." You promise, and mean it. Nothing should tear you apart again, he was so much more than your cat boy, he was your lover, your partner for life and you wanted nothing more than to have this man by your side forever. His features soften, the swishing tail behind him brushing at your still raised leg.

"I love you," He breathes, almost relieved at your words. A chuckle bubbling from your chest as you lay your damp forehead against his.

"And I love you, my kitty."

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