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mickyschumacher · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! I just wanna say that I really love your writings!!! Their so good hehehe!! Can you do one a mick x wolff!reader?? Maybe one where toto sets them up cause he is tired of seeing them make heart eyes at each other and not making a move HHHH. Thank you lovie!!🤍

𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐏 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: love at times is shy and oblivious. like you and mick. but sometimes all you need is a father and a plan (with some backups!).

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 16+? (suggestive), fluff, poor humour as guaranteed, (loosely) based on the movie 'set it up', no sense of a motorhome ♡︎, mention of christian horner :(, possibly cringe, basically childhood friends to lovers trope, reader is lowkey a menace, confessions are made, toto in line for best dad award?, google translated german :0, a mess in general!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mick schumacher x wolff!fem!reader, joão felix x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: okay so i've been waiting for a good mick plot but nothing was coming to mind but this! this screams mick! thank you so much for your praise. hope i do them justice with this although the plot holes are there!!

𝐏.𝐒: i'm curious on how people envision themselves as wolff, horner, vettle readers, etc. if you're coloured like me, do you pretend to be adopted or from a previous relationship if it isn't specified? 😭 i mean the explanation has to be viable lmao. maybe you just don't imagine?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were certain values a Wolff had. Those that were just innate.

A Wolff, more often than not, was a leader, intelligent, charismatic, good-looking, and embedded with dad jokes. Additionally, when a Wolff wanted something, they would do whatever to get it. They didn't leave any leaf unturned, they made the rounds and the effort.

It didn't make sense. You had all of those values. Yet, every time you joined the Mercedes garage, your father, Toto, found himself questioning everything.

Take now for example. He was in the beloved Mercedes garage, sat next to the best reserve driver he had ever chosen, Mick.

Parents tend to be protective of their children before they're even born. And it only amplifies after they're born. From which strangers you meet, the roads you cross, the seatbelt you have to wear to the clothes you wear, the suspiciously high phone bill and your romantic endeavours. A father's protection for his little girl was a tad bit stronger than this, special in it's own way.

Toto would do anything to protect his children, especially his little girls. And if any guy was making moves on you, right in front of him, the 'dad' side of him was just waiting to come out.

But he could only do that if someone actually made a move on you. Sure there were other guys but the one sat right next to him did nothing but shyly follow you with his blue eyes and blush in your presence.

Mick was seriously frustrating Toto and his wife. The both of them had watched the German boy watch you with heart eyes ever since the both of you had first met at the Schumacher's house for dinner. You were young back then but hell, within five minutes everyone knew that Mick was a lovesick puppy.

Years had gone by with your friendship becoming stronger. Those same years involved Mick and you being stuck to each other as if you were hip-to-hip. You attended all his races and he supported you in all your academic achievements. And oblivious to you, somewhere along the road you had also become as lovesick as he was.

Toto didn't really realise how fed up he was. He didn't want to interfere. In fact, he wanted things between the both of you to happen naturally. But he just had happen to watch the entire hour and forty-five minutes of 'Set It Up' over your shoulder instead of doing his work and he just had to do something... hell, anything.

━━━━━━━━━━━

First things first... Toto couldn't put the both of you in an elevator. At least not yet. You knew each other while the two bosses in 'Set It Up' didn't, so it didn't make much sense. You probably would never even get to the topic of your feelings. Not without a physical icebreaker of sorts.

Toto needed someone and George Russell just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"George, my boy!" Toto chorused, beckoning the British driver towards him. He slung his arm over George's shoulder, bringing him closer to him. "Do you mind doing me a favour?"

George nodded without too much thought. "Yeah sure. What is it?"

"If you see Mick and Y/N go towards an elevator, stop them and tell Y/N that a guy asked for her number, uh, who was that footballer... ah yes, João Félix, him... he did ask her yesterday right?" Toto looked over at George.

"Uh, yeah. Before you dragged her away... listen, Toto, I'm not sure I can do what you asking me to. I thought none of us were going to mess with whatever's going on between them?"

"You're young, George. One day you'll realise what 'desperate times calls for desperate measures' means. So..." Toto trailed off, eagerly looking for an answer before spotting the hesitant expression on the British driver's face. "Can I pay you do the favour?"

George blankly looked at his boss. "I'm on your payroll, Toto. You already pay me. That also sounds like extortion and bribery."

Toto's eye twitched as an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. He stared at George heavily before giving in. "Fine. You'll be out before Lewis for this week's quali."

The corner of George's mouth teetered up, working to a small grin. "Extortion and bribery... it sounds cool," He said with a nonchalant shrug.

Toto shook his head to himself. "You can try and be less British, George. Just because your ancestors colonised doesn't mean you need to take the same behaviour," He patted his shoulder before leaving, feeling George's confused expression bore into the back of his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Toto was a great man. But today was one of those days where George really did question him. Part of him was praying that he didn't see you and Mick head to an elevator. The scenario was so specific that well... the probability was low.

There was no way he was going to see it happen. Not even 30 minutes after he had this conversation and he had just grabbed a coffee and was now heading to Alex...

But the peak of that blonde hair and the familiar shine of your signature glasses caught George's eye. Christ.

"How is that possible?" He muttered to himself, eyeing the both of you as you waited for the elevator to go up the Mercedes' motorhome.

First in quali. Come on, George. You got this!

"Hey guys," George greeted the both of you.

You and Mick turned to him and smiled. "Hey George. How's it going? Ready for practice?"

George nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, yeah. Good, thanks. Uh, I was just wondering about yesterday... João? Since Toto dragged you away before you could do anything but he was just wondering if you would still consider giving him your number."

George pressed his lips, seeing Mick's eyes narrow from his peripheral vision. God how had the both of you not gotten together yet?

"I didn't know João asked you that?" Mick looked at you with questioning eyes.

You blinked, feeling your heart skip a beat slightly. You weren't sure why Mick's interest was to intriguing to you all of a sudden. You pursed your lips, looking to George. "Oh? I didn't know you knew João like that."

"I... don't. It's... Kika! Kika knows him... you know... Portugal things," He laughed awkwardly, giving a helpless shrug.

"Right..." You nodded slowly. "Uh, I don't know. I mean was considering it, I guess."

"You were?" George and Mick spluttered out in unison.

Your eyes widened at their reaction. "I mean, yeah... kinda?" You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

George could see the German driver's head racing a hundred miles per hour. It was time to get out of this mess.

"Okay, well, if you consider it, you could probably DM him on Instagram. Don't ask Kika!" George quickly said. "I mean... you know, she gets very excited to play cupid... anyways, I have to get back to Dudley, but let me know how it goes!"

You and Mick waved goodbye, heading onto the elevator after what felt like forever.

As the doors closed, you looked over at your thought-consumed best friend. "Penny for your thoughts, Mr Schumacher?" You humoured.

Mick briefly smiled before returning to his brooding state. He folded his arms, leaned on the wall of the elevator and stared at you.

Your mouth felt dry and yet you were drowning in your own saliva. There were certain things that weren't healthy for humans: too much sugar, high cholesterol foods, and apparently air-drying your hair. And then there was too much Mick.

The folded arms and his stupid shirt brought your eyes to the muscles you had so desperately been avoiding after Mick had started to work out even more in the past year.

You cleared your throat, trying to think of another topic of discussion.

In your pondering, Mick opened his mouth. "I don't think you should give João your number," He said, bringing his hands to his side, discreetly allowing the fabric of his shorts to soak up his clammy hands.

Your eyes flickered towards his face. You raised brow. "What? Why?" You asked, feeling an uneasy ache gnaw at your chest.

"I..." Mick started, "I mean what if he's a bad guy? You know... I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Your heart dropped. You felt like an deflating balloon: all blown up, only to be taken down. You mustered a soft smile. "I mean, you can't protect me forever Mick. What are you going to do? Vet the guy on the day of my wedding," You joked.

Mick frowned at your response. The image of you marrying someone that wasn't him was disheartening.

"I won't need to if you get married to someone you know," He shrugged. "You don't know João. You know me."

Oh?

Oh.

You almost did a double-take on your best friend. Did he know what words were falling from his lips. "So what? He's kinda cute. And a five-star FIFA player. I could take the risk. And eventually, I would know him... since that's how relationships work... communication and all," You defended the footballer.

Mick stared at you for a few seconds before blinking out of his short trance. "Right..." He said sharply, pushing himself off of the wall as the elevator opened. He struck out his arm, holding back the door. "You go on. I just remembered I need to talk to Toto."

You flickered your eyes to Mick, trying to read his face. "That's fine, we can go togeth–"

"No," Mick interjected, "it's... it's okay."

Upon the slight widening of your eyes and the startled expression lingering on your face, Mick's innate action was to internally wince. "I'll join you soon. Don't worry. I bring your favourite pastry on the way back, hmm?"

You nodded silently, taking a step out of the elevator and headed towards the lounge with a troubled feeling nagging at your head.

Had you struck a nerve?

━━━━━━━━━━━

Toto couldn't tell what he had done wrong. You and Mick were fine this morning. But after he had told George to push things along between the both of you, a sense of distance radiated off of you.

And George still got out before Lewis for the first quali. Goddamn it.

When Toto raised an eyebrow at you after Mick had slightly brushed you off to talk to Bono, you simply shrugged helplessly.

That night Toto did not get a wink of sleep. Instead, he stared at this hotel ceiling with a twitching eye.

There was nothing he couldn't fix. Whatever was going on between you and Mick right now was just a small bump in the road.

The solution?

A baseball game.

Unfortunately for Toto, baseball wasn't that popular in Brazil. But that didn't mean they didn't do them.

The plan was going perfectly. Toto had offered a 'family day' and gotten you and Mick to join him and Susie to attend a local baseball match between some of university teams. Toto made sure you and Mick were sitting behind him so you had all the privacy you needed. As a dad, he shouldn't be that happy about kiss-cam, let alone bribing the camera operators with the help of Pierre and Kika. But he wanted peace and he was going to get it.

But nothing was easy in life. And Toto could not have predicted this in a million years.

As everyone waited for the game to start, Toto timidly turned his head. He caught the brown eyes of the five-star FIFA player. Giving him a hesitant smile, he averted his own eyes back to the field, cursing himself under his breath. "Scheiße," He muttered through his clenched teeth. Shit.

The tension in the air was thick, to say the least. You sat between João and Mick with blank expression.

João, who was in town for the F1 race, decided to stay back to support a friend in the match. Obviously.

When the footballer on your right extended his hand to Mick, you sucked in a sharp breath. You heavily eyed the firmest handshake you had seen in your life. Letting out a nervous laugh, you sat down before the gesture turned into hardcore glaring.

Still, there was the hope of this kiss-cam.

Toto waited with little patience, hearing João crack jokes in Portuguese that actually made you laugh while Mick took deeper breaths.

It felt like life itself had been poured into Toto once the kiss-cam started on the public. This mattered to him more than whoever was going to win this match.

Toto's face dropped as the camera fell on you.

Your mother pointed at the camera with a gleeful exclamation. Your eyes moved to the screen, widening when you saw yourself and the man next to you.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Toto exasperated quietly.

You turned your head to the right, meeting the equally shocked brown eyes.

"In what way does he look like 'a blonde boy with the face of the greatest racer in F1 history'?" Toto said into his hands, shaking his head slowly.

Mick looked blankly at you and João on the screen before turning to you. He watched you shake your head softly, smiling awkwardly at the camera as the crowd urged you to kiss.

"Oh mein Gott," You murmured to yourself, eyes darting around in panic. Oh my God.

Suddenly, you felt Mick lean in, his fingers sliding under your chin and resting on your cheek. He turned your head slightly towards him.

Your eyes widened upon meeting his baby blues, feeling unnerving giddiness swarm you. You hoped your face screamed, "What are you doing?!"

All Mick did give a small smile, bringing his lips towards you.

Instinctively, your eyes closed, bracing yourself whatever was about to happen. All you could hope for was that this was all a dream of some sort. Maybe you fell asleep in the car?

You skin flushed at the feel of Mick's soft lips on your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling him linger for a second longer before pulling back.

What on earth?

You weren't sure if you were breathing as you felt his hand move to your leg, covering your hand and giving it a small squeeze. You moved your eyes to the screen. Mick looked unbothered while the crowd erupted in cheers and boos. You, on the other hand, looked flushed.

And Toto?

The urge to run around with his hands flailing in the air was strong.

This was a home run, for crying out loud!

Whoever said jealousy was a disease... thank you!

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Liebling, du solltest jetzt rauskommen," Your mother said to you through the bathroom stall you had been hiding in for the past five minutes. Darling, you should come out now.

You winced as you banged your head against the wall of the stall. You sighed. "I don't think I can. Do you think you can convince the staff the bring a bed? Maybe some food?"

Your mother snorted. "What are you going to do? Live here?"

"Ja. War das nicht offensichtlich?" You retorted, eyes screwing themselves shut after replaying the kiss in your head for the umpteenth time. Yes. Was that not obvious?

Susie sighed, awkwardly smiling at a woman leaving the bathroom. "Y/N... it's Mick. You can't ignore him forever. How long do you think it will truly take for Mick and your father to storm in here after not seeing you for so long?"

You sighed at your mother's response. She was. As always.

The last thing you needed was a headline on ESPN: Toto Wolff and Mick Schumacher caught barging into a women's bathroom.

Christian would have a field day!

You shuddered at the thought.

Susie's ears perked up at your grumble as you fumbled with the lock of the stall. She sported an amused smile at the blank look you gave her.

Slinging an arm around you, she rubbed your shoulder. "Come on, liebling. You got this."

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Oh thank God!" Toto exclaimed after seeing you and your mother come out of the bathroom. "You took forever!"

You narrowed your eyes at your father, avoiding the lingering eyes of a certain German boy. "Maybe next time you shouldn't feed me a hotdog at a baseball game, right?" You pressed with a raised brow.

"Hmm?" Toto mended his brows before nodding profusely. "Right! Right! Yes... that was my bad. Poor thing... you know, Mick, with Y/N being sick and all, I think you should drop her to the hotel. Me and Susie still have a date to go on!"

You and your mother looked at Toto increduolously.

"We do?"

"You do?"

Toto nodded, grabbing your mother's hand. "Yes! Okay, see you two! Tschüss!" Bye!

With a jaw-dropping expression, you watched your parents leave with a twitching eye.

You heard Mick clear his throat.

Slowly, you turned around with a small smile. Fiddling with your fingers, "So..."

Mick rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a small tinge of pink dancing across his cheeks. "The hotel?" He asked, swinging his keys around the his index finger.

Silently, you both walked out of the stadium and towards the car park.

You furrowed your brows upon seeing the orange and pink laden sky. "What the heck? How is the sun already setting?"

"I mean... you were in there for a long time," Mick shrugged.

The crisp summer evening breeze glided past your flushed skin. Your body winced at the paining silence ensuing between the both of you. You let out a small exhale. "Uh, with the thing before–"

"Yeah?" Mick eagerly turned his body towards you, on edge.

You cleared your throat at the anxious expression Mick sported. "You sighed. "Uh, that was to like... save me, right? Aus Verlegenheit? Danke für das." From embarrassment? Thank you for that.

Mick mended his eyebrows. "Verlegenheit? No. I... that was so you didn't kiss João."

You laughed nervously. "Right! So I didn't have to kiss João."

"No. So you didn't kiss João. There's a difference," Mick pointed out, eyeing your expression carefully.

Your eyes widened at his suddenly soft gaze. You looked up at the sky, hoping the breeze would cool the wave of warmth swirling around you. "That's... that's what I said," You shrugged.

Mick stepped in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead of the sky. "Why do you do that?" Mick asked.

"Do what?" You responded.

"I mean... I–just why do you have such a hard time admitting that I like you?"

You wish you had something to say. Anything. But it was as if the ability to speak had been seized from your throat entirely.

"I mean I know I don't make it obvious. I just thought we had some sort of understanding... you know... the one without words?"

You looked up into his hopeful eyes. Entranced, you leaned in towards him. Your fingers danced across his cheek just the way he had done not so long ago. You watched his eyes close at the feel of your touch, making your heart thud against your chest.

Inching closer, your thumb gently swiped over his lips, feeling his faltering exhale warm the pad of your thumb. "So pretty," You whispered to yourself, eyeing his face.

Mick wasn't sure whether you were talking about him or his lips but he didn't care.

You shuddered, feeling Mick's hand slide around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

Without waiting a second longer, you pressed your lips to his.

Mick's lips were softer than you had imagined, warm to the touch. Your stomach churned upon feeling his fingers skate under the hem of your shirt, rubbing tingling circles on your hot skin.

You hear an unrecognisable breathy gasp fall from your lips. The hair on your body stood straight as goosebumps littered your skin. All because of Mick.

Mick took advantage of the moment, darting his tongue to explore your mouth. He groaned against your lips, pushing your hips even closer to him, feeling the hard outline of his bulge rub against your pelvis.

Fuck.

You were going to combust at this rate.

Mick trembled in your grasp as your hands wandered his taut torso, lingering closely to his v-line.

He pulled away with an indescribable urgency, staring at you with small pants falling from his lips. He held your face with his hand, thumb gliding across your swollen lips. "We can't–" He sighed out, voice hoarse, "No more. Please."

Your thighs clenched at his plea, eyes falling down to his prominent bulge. You were sure he was in a lot of pain right now. The sexual tension between you to had been pent up for years now.

Your tongue darted out, swiping over his thumb briefly before faintly sucking on it. You looked up at Mick. "You're right, we shouldn't," You nonchalantly told him.

Mick's blue eyes danced with a tortured pain, following your tongue carefully. "We... fuck, Y/N," He complained, feeling impossibly tight in his pants.

"We fuck? Direct much?" You teased, removing your lips from his thumb.

Mick stared at you, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "I was saying... we should do this properly. Not in some parking lot."

"Why not? Car sex is hot. Just imagine!" You urged, amused by the conflict in Mick's eyes.

Imagine he did.

You and him in his God forbidden Mercedes... him making sure every inch of his car was stained with you...

Mick sucked in a sharp breath. "Nope. Come on. Hotel."

You gasped humorously. "In a hotel? Mick Schumacher! Well I never!"

Before you knew it, Mick had whisked you into his arms and into his car, hoping he was not breaking Brazil's speed limits tonight.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher #formula 1

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the-laughing-lunatic · 2 months

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uhhhchhdhfhdhd can you maybe do something with the mercs (all 9 if thats cool, but if not then just sniper and medic!!) with a reader that cant sleep so they just. go to their room and ask if they can cuddle with them

(ofc! This was rlly fun to write, I’ll prolly write for all of them later if yall are interested enough :> thx for requesting!)

Medic and Sniper with a reader asking for cuddles (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

☆Sniper☆

He’s a tad confused when you show up to his camper van

I mean, he’d never turn down cuddling you, that’d be bloody stupid of him

“Why you wanna cuddle with me though, mate? I don’t exactly got the most comfortable sleepin’ conditions.”

“Because it’s you, Mick. If you don’t want to, that's fine.”

“Woah, woah, mate you’re twisting my words. I mean, I’d love that. Uh, come in I guess.”

Bro is so awkward omg-

Does not know how to initiate physical contact at all so he just kind of stands until you lay down on the bed

The bed in his van is already really small so it forces you two to be even closer

He doesn’t really like being super close, but he likes to have an arm around you to have that connection

Kind of guy that needs noise to sleep, he’d be perfectly content to listen to you ramble about anything as he holds you.

Very light sleeper, def gets up in the middle of the night a few times but he’d be very careful not to disturb your sleep

He really does enjoy holding you and would like to do it more, but will absolutely not unless you ask first

In the morning he’ll fix you coffee and fairy bread to be polite

Really wants to do that again but will absolutely not ask you, way too awkward for that

☆Medic☆

You had gone to Medic’s bedroom to ask him if you two could cuddle…but he wasn’t there

You went to his lab next, where he sat hunched over his desk, frantically scribbling away on some papers. “Ohoho! Hello mein fruend, I didn’t notice you. What do you need?”

“I can’t sleep, can we cuddle?”

“If you wish, you may sit here while I work.”

You’d sit in his lap as he continued to write something or other, with one of his arms wrapped around your waist

It was nice for a bit, he’s big and warm, but it was too uncomfortable to actually try to sleep and you were tired

“Mm, Ludwig, when do you actually go to bed?”

“Ahehe, I think around one or two,” he said sheepishly.

“You think?”

“I normally just pass out at my desk.”

“...okay, we’re going to bed now,” you said, getting off his lap and dragging him to his bed

He’d (begrudgingly) come along after a lot of complaining about how he needed to get the work done

He likes having you lay on top of him, it calms him down to feel the weight of you (he def has a weighted blanket on the rare nights he sleeps in his bed)

Traces your skin and absentmindedly talks about where each of your organs are underneath

He falls asleep very quickly, you have to take his glasses off and place them on the nightstand (mf wears glasses while he sleeps, they’re crooked as hell)

His grip is so tight even as he sleeps though, you wanna move? Ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.

In the morning bro is always awake before you, no matter how early you get up

If he’s feeling quirky maybe you’ll get breakfast in bed

(He may put caffeine in your food at dinner so you wont be able to sleep and you’ll cuddle him, until you catch him–)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #medic tf2 #sniper tf2 #sniper tf2 x reader #medic tf2 x reader #x reader #fanfiction

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goldsainz · 1 year

Text

TALK IT OUT — one shot.

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnnix

summary: misunderstandings are never fun, especially when others are involved.

request: “can we have an angst prompt? i personally want to see mick cry because nobody did write him crying yet - lmk if someone did please ❛ why are you avoiding me? ❜ + mick schumacher”

warnings: mentions of cheating, angst to comfort, the ending is rushed im sorry.

NOTE: first mick fic ever… kinda nervous, kinda excited about it. also hope i did your idea justice, i actually struggled to write sad mick bc he should never be sad as far as i’m concerned😭 that is my golden boy and i will fight for him if needed. (this is like 800 words longer than intended it to)

[ word count: 1,6k ]

Tabloids always lied. You knew this, yet there was a small part of you that knew that beneath all those lies a little bit of the truth always shone from beneath them.

You trusted Mick with your whole heart, something that was essential considering he could be gone for several weeks or even months. It wasn’t that you lacked trust in him, you didn’t trust your own overthinking and negative thoughts.

But this time was different, something in your gut told you that this time was different. Something about the way the photo was taken and the way he was smiling, it just didn't make sense. Especially knowing he had told he had no plans of going out. But there he was, smiling down at a girl who looked nothing like you while you waited for him to come back from working abroad.

Suddenly, all the emotions and excitement you had about him coming home turned into pure dread as you figured out what the hell you were going to do. There was a chance that Mick didn’t cheat on you, but the chance felt too foreign for your broken heart to even consider. If Mick was the man you thought he was, he wasn’t someone who would betray you like that, but the situation was too bad to think straight.

It was late at night when your boyfriend arrived, you heard the door open and close all while clutching your pillow tightly. You hoped he would just see your form and assume you’re asleep, leaving you and your thoughts alone. You hoped he wouldn’t take notice of the tears that damped the pillow, the way your breath stuttered a little from all the crying.

The rustle from his bags didn’t stir you. He didn’t call your name like he usually did when he arrived home late from a weeks-long trip. You assumed he didn’t call for you because he saw your “sleeping” form and chose to leave you alone, probably because he knew how much you loved to sleep and knew better than to wake you up.

After a while, the bed dipped as Mick made himself comfortable beneath the bed sheets. He settled next to you, moving around as he draped an arm around your waist. For a moment you relaxed slightly from his touch, like all the worries in the world could be erased simply because he touched you. In all honesty, his absence has made you slightly touch-starved and you let yourself have this moment of peace because you had craved it for weeks. It didn’t take long for reality to settle in though. The reminder of his actions haunted you, it had since you saw the tabloid just mere hours ago.

You fell eventually asleep, albeit late and with a struggle. The heat of Mick’s body had killed you to sleep and the tiredness of being sad had your body calling it a night.

Waking up wasn’t easy. You wanted to pretend the day before had occurred, and in your head if you were asleep forever then you didn’t have to confront whatever happened. A part of you knew that if Mick didn’t do what the article suggested he did, then your relationship could either go on like it was or it would never be the same. You knew yourself, you knew that a small part of you would always have the nagging thought of “what if”, a thought that would follow you around forever.

You stretched as you got out of bed, feeling your boyfriend's sleeping form not shift in the slightest. You brushed your teeth and did your morning routine like usual, just this time with a terrible feeling at the pit of your stomach.

It wasn’t long after that Mick woke up, his eyes tired and his blonde hair a mess. You had your back turned to him as you prepared breakfast, this time instead of making it for the both of you, you just did two toasts and a glass of juice for yourself.

“Hey, how are you?” He said, his voice raspy from just waking up. You just took a bite of your toast and ignored his words, almost acting as if he wasn’t standing near you.

If Mick found your acting strange, he didn’t outright mention it. Instead, he leaned down and went to press a kiss to your lips, just for you to turn your head sideways as you pretended to grab the glass of juice. His lips met your cheek, and while he would never complain about how he kissed you, Mick had been longing to kiss you ever since he left you. It was something he always looked forward to doing whenever he had to leave for long periods of time, or even short ones.

“I missed you.” His voice is unsure now. Unsure about your actions and if you will respond to him. Your humming to his words does little to console the feeling he gets from you ignoring him.

You place the used dishware in the sink, the clattering of the plates disturbs the uncomfortable silence that surrounds you both.

Usually Mick knows how to keep his negative emotions in check pretty well. He never shouts when he’s mad, or cries when he’s upset, he just tries his best to talk out whatever is happening. But right now, having his girlfriend avoid him when he’s come back from an exhausting trip, is just too much for him to comprehend.

You haven’t even done much to get him teary-eyed, it’s just the simple fact that he craves your attention and you’re not giving it to him. He doesn’t even know why you can’t be bothered to give him the time of day, or why you seem so uncomfortable around him.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Mick asks you after some time goes by, watching as you do everything around the room except look at him. Something in you cracks at the way his voice breaks while asking the question, you know that if you look up at him and see his glossy eyes you will crumble under them. You will throw any anger you have towards him out the window, and as much as you want to, you need more than that to forgive or even forget whatever happened.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” “If I knew why you were avoiding me I wouldn’t be asking.”

“What were you doing Thursday night?” His face is one of confusion, his brows furrowing and nose slightly scrunching up as he assesses your question.

“What?”

“What were you doing Thursday night?” You repeat, this time your voice cracks as you ask him the one question you dread to hear the answer from.

“I worked at the factory till late at night.”

“That’s all? So, you didn’t go out at all?”

Mick’s face is one of pure frustration. Frustration because he can’t believe how oblivious he had been to your feelings, how he went out and you didn’t mention anything about it. Frustration because he should’ve known that the media would get to him and by relation, in between the two of you.

“I did.” He admits, “But it was with a couple of friends, whatever it is that you saw is not what it looks like. I swear.”

“You just coincidentally had a girl all up on you, and you just smiled down at her?”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N. I wished I could say I did, but honestly, if there was a girl next to me I can assure you I wasn’t smiling because of her or to her, for that matter.”

An unshed tear falls down his cheek at the assumption you're making. The notion that you would ever think he would be unfaithful to you breaks his heart into a million little pieces, like he knows yours did the moment the idea that he cheated on you settled in.

“I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like I would cheat on you.” Mick approaches you slowly, wary of the way you might react. He doesn't think he would bear it if you pulled away from his touch, but he would understand. “But I would never ever do that. I need you to know that.”

When your boyfriend finally reaches you, you can't help but lean into his touch. The hug he gives you is almost crushing, likes he's scared you will run away from him at any given moment. It is just as comforting as it is devastating the way he is holding you, a part of you is grateful that he is so honest and raw with you, but there is a part of you that cant help and question if his words hold any truth, if he is not like many of the other men you've known through the course of your life.

“I want to believe you.” You whisper against him, “I really do, Mick.”

His chin is pressed to the top of your head and you feel him shift to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to, schatz, and that's a promise.” There is something about the way he says that, something about the sincerity his words hold that makes you believe him. It wipes away the worries you had and replaces them with pure love, in your heart of hearts you know that Mick would never intentionally hurt you, and if he could help it, ever.

You know just by his words that you’ll be alright.

No matter the tabloids or the drama that follows you, you'll be alright.

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fictionalcharactersaremypassion · 3 months

Text

Wedding Bliss

Okay, so the motel room wasn’t great.

Ian could feel Mickey’s pointed glare after the heart shaped bed came into view.

Three, two, one, he thought dryly.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Mickey demanded.

“I was thinking,” Ian brushed his thumb over Mickey’s cheek, “I wanted to enjoy something special with my husband.”

By the end of that sentence, Ian's voice had gone softer, his heart doing a little leap at the reminder that they were here, they were married and everything was finally falling into place.

And Mickey, well he was trying to pull off this nonchalant facade like he didn’t care when Ian had seen the softness in his eyes at the word husband.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his lips capturing Ian’s, to which the both of them let out a sigh of contentment. “Didn’t mean you had to pick somethin’ so fucking ugly.”

Ian rolled his eyes, his hands dropping down to his sides. “I didn’t know what it looked like.”

“Well, there’s your problem right there.”

“Come on, Mick, let’s just be happy we’re getting a honeymoon,” Ian said. He went around to where the bathroom was, face lighting up. “I know what’ll make you feel better.”

“Punching that dick at the front desk?” Mickey said idly.

“He wasn’t a dick. You just overreacted,” Ian checked out the bathroom in the hope that they could share a nice shower to relax. Too bad it was a tiny ass shower that would barely fit Ian, let alone the both of them.

“The hell I did. You see the way he looked at you?” Mickey grumbled.

“Maybe if you didn’t threaten to knock his teeth out, he wouldn’t have looked at me,” Ian said with fond exasperation.

The motel’s computer had been running a little slow. Ian was patient, striking up a conversation with the front desk receptionist. Mickey was...less patient.

“Why the fuck is it taking so long?”

“Mickey...” Ian said warningly, keeping his voice low so the receptionist wouldn’t hear.

“We’ve been standing here for five fucking minutes,” Mickey said under his breath.

“Calm down.”

“Fuck you. I’m going outside. Tell me when the room’s ready,” Mickey took a cigarette out of his pocket, ready to light it when the receptionist spoke.

“Sir, if you’ll just be patient. I’ll have everything ready.”

“Here we go,” Ian muttered when Mickey whirled around, pressing his hands on the desk.

“The fuck you just say to me?”

“He felt bad for me, Mick. He wasn’t flirting,” Ian deadpanned.

Mickey scowled. “Man, fuck you.”

Ian, still feeling a rush of adrenaline from their celebration, yanked Mickey closer to him, hands creeping up under his shirt. “I’d rather fuck you.”

Their clothes were soon discarded to the floor.

Ian’s fingers threaded through Mickey’s hair. God, he loved doing this, loved feeling the soft strands and he knew Mickey loved it too.

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna fall asleep,” came a low rumble from his side. Mickey breathed out deeply, his eyes already closed.

Ian kissed his forehead, to which Mickey’s lips quirked up into a small smile.

Mickey didn't naturally gravitate towards Ian to cuddle like other couples. Ian had tried on a previous occasion, only for Mickey to shake his head and move away.

“That’s gay.”

“We’re gay, Mickey.”

“I’m not that gay.”

Tonight was different; his husband’s head rested on Ian’s shoulder, one leg intertwined as if they were one. The hand that wasn’t in Mickey’s hair was caressing his arm, all the way from his shoulder down to his wrist, his touch so soft that goosebumps appeared.

“Good,” he replied. “You need to.”

“Fuck off, Gallagher. Don’t start naggin’,” Mickey said, his voice completely devoid of any malice.

“I saw you yawn,” Ian pointed out. “When you thought I wasn’t looking.”

“Do you want me to rip your dick off?”

Ian’s lips hovered above Mickey’s, whispering, “Do what you want, baby.”

Mickey’s hand came up to Ian’s hair during the kiss to tug on it. It wasn’t as rough as earlier, not quite as urgent, but that didn’t mean it was any less passionate. Just sweet and slow, basking in the knowledge they’d have the rest of their lives to enjoy this.

“What’d I tell you about calling me that?”

“You’re not fooling me, Mick.” Ian was well aware Mickey didn’t mind it, despite the huff he put up. He was certainly less convincing with his flushed cheeks and dilated eyes. “I know you like it.”

“Fuck off, no I don’t,” Mickey wasn’t looking at him.

Ian nuzzled the side of his face, a grin forming. “Mickey...”

“Jesus,” Mickey groaned. “Alright, fine. It’s not the worst fucking thing you’ve said. Happy now?”

“Be happier if you didn’t hog the blanket,” Ian pulled some of it away from his husband so he could be a bit more covered, not that he was bashful about being naked in front of him or anything. The draft in here was kinda chilly.

“What are you worried about? Not like you won’t be clinging to me the whole time anyway.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want any of the blanket, doucheface,” Ian yanked on it again, blowing out a puff of air in frustration.

He managed to get most of it on his side, pulling it up to his chest, relaxing as a wave of sleepiness seemed to suddenly hit him, his long and full day coming to a close.

His thoughts had been drifting back to the wedding reception- thinking of how Debbie forced him to dance with not only her but Carl, Liam and Lip too- when Mickey’s voice, doing that thing where he tried to act like he was doing Ian a favor, got his attention.

“I don’t care if you’re...clinging to me or whatever.”

“Are you saying you want to cuddle me, Mickey?” The room was dark, but enough moonlight seeped in through the bottom of the curtain that it lit up the flush that crept up Mickey’s face.

God, he loved this man. After everything they’d been through, Ian wanted nothing more than to be here and enjoy the time they had left before they’d be back at the Gallagher house.

“I’m saying shut the fuck up before I cut your fucking dick off.”

----

Okay, there's my first Gallavich fic! I wanted to do something shorter to get a feel for the characters. Hopefully they don't sound too OOC

#shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #shameless fanfiction

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elisysd · 2 months

Text

20. Your new girl is my clone

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Is it Over Now? - Taylor Swift

Same hairstyle. Same eye color. Same height. Same frame. Same freckles displayed on the nose. She looked so much like you that it was confusing and for a moment your mind wondered if Stan hadn’t done it on purpose. But he wouldn’t go this far, would he? The thought still made the bile rise in your throat.

“Y/N? You look pale. Is there something wrong?” you could hear the mocking in his voice, which made you feel uneasy.

“No. All good. I’ve got to go. I would say that it was nice meeting you but that would be a lie,” you politely replied trying to keep your composure. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see you break. You nodded in his direction and in Roxanne’s before walking towards the gate. You needed to go back to the hotel, take a shower, relax and pretend everything was okay when Charles would be back.

Charles was tired. So tired. And the weekend had not even properly started. He wanted nothing more than to go back to you, take you in his arms and cuddle for the next hours. He wasn’t sure if you had already left and he was the only one to blame, having forgotten to charge his phone and now the battery was dead. He was hoping you had made it home safe and sound.

He hadn’t managed to see anyone from either his team or his friends, to focus on what he had to do the next day. He had dreamed of Vegas, of that track and he knew it was something that suited him and he wanted nothing more than to give the last two races his all. For you, who had been by his side for a few months now, for Ferrari who had gone through hell but still was in position to finish the year on a high, for his friends and family who believed in him no matter what. He wanted to win this race so badly.

He thought, at first, that the red jacket with his name on it moving through the crowd, was a product of his imagination. But when he took a few seconds to focus, he smiled, recognising the way you had tied up your hair today. You had waited for him, even if it was so late. He sighed, relieved. Suddenly everything felt better, the air in his lungs seemed to come back and his shoulders relaxed. He sped up, eager to hug you and lead you towards the gate and to the car. He called your name, once, twice but to no avail. Though, he was sure you had momentarily stopped as if you were waiting for him to catch up. He apologized to the people we was pushing a little, trying to go back to you as fast as possible, and when you took an unexpected sharp turn toward between the main hospitality where countless of VIP were drinking and laughing and where the little Elvis chapel had been built for couple who wanted to marry, it took him slightly aback. What games were you playing?

He was about to call your name one last time when you suddenly started to run towards someone. It took him a few seconds to recognise the man’s embrace you were in. But when he did, all the air that had miraculously come back in his lungs a few minutes prior, was now knocked over. Stan. Fucking Stan. And if he thought the blow was hard to take, nothing could have prepared him for what came next and for his whole world to shake. Stan bent over, his face close to yours before his lips found yours. Charles hoped and prayed of seeing you pushing him away but when your arms found his neck and you let yourself go in his embrace, he felt his world flipped upside down and a hole piercing through his heart. He couldn’t turn away, it was like he was attracted to the scene before him, unable to move. And the final blow came in the form of Stan shooting him a glance, a smirk playing on his face and an arrogant wink thrown in his direction before he finally moved, your head buried in his chest, towards a sponsored hospitality.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, completely frozen, until a hand on his shoulder finally brought him back to the moment. Mick was looking at him, distraught and worried.

“Charles? Man… Damn, what happened? You’re crying? What is going on? You’re pale, do you need me to fetch the medical services? Or Y/N? Where is she?”

“Out with a guy I thought she wasn’t talking to anymore. Probably making out with him. Fuck… How could have I been this stupid? How?”

“Y/N? Our Y/N? The girl who looks at you as if you were holding out the moon, the sun and the stars in your bare hands? That Y/N? Making out with someone who isn’t you? Come one, man, you’re either joking or you’re so tired you’re hallucinating.”

“I know what I’ve seen, Mick!” Charles finally lost his temper, the events finally sinking in. “And what I’ve seen is the love of my life, kissing a man who isn’t me. While wearing my name on her jacket,” he felt a tear falling on his hand before he brought it to his face, wiping away the tears running down on his cheeks, in an angry gesture.

“But… It doesn’t make any sense… she gave up her job for you, she moved in with you, she is your number one supporter… Why would she cheat?”

“Maybe she never really gave up on being a journalist. Maybe all this time, she acted undercover, gaining my trust, being part of my life, trying to get a sensational story to boost her career. I don’t know.”

“Do you really believe she would go this far? It is not her…”

“I didn’t think she would cheat me, Mick and here we are. Maybe we both don’t know her as well as we thought. Maybe she played us both.”

“You need to talk to her, maybe there is an explanation… A good one. I refuse to believe she is vicious like that.”

Charles took his time to come back to the hotel. He wasn’t feeling tired anymore, but he was dreading seeing you. He didn’t know what he would say. He was feeling so hurt, so angry, so betrayed. He had never been the luckiest when it came to love, he was often blind. He was a deep romantic at heart, believing true love was still out there somewhere, and was still waiting for him. And he truly thought he had found it with you.

When he finally entered the room, you were sitting on the armchair, back turned towards the giant window, looking at the light illuminating the city and defining the track you could see from afar. When you finally turned to him, a smile on your face, he could have sworn you were innocent. But he knew what he had seen and he would not let himself be distracted.

“I was worried, you weren’t answering your phone…” you broke off the silence, feeling the tension in him as you walked closer.

“Stop playing whatever games you are playing, right now. Please,” he harshly said, making you jump and looking at him with disbelief.

“Games?” you repeated. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen you. With Stan. Kissing,” he slowly replied, each word tasting like poison on his tongue.

You opened your mouth and closed it almost as fast, processing what he was saying, before shaking your head, taking a step back.

“Charles… no… I swear to you, I didn’t…”

“Don’t act stupid with me. I know what I’ve seen. I saw you spending almost an hour braiding your hair like that, I was the one giving you my jacket with my fucking name on it because you were cold. I don’t understand… why?”

“Charles, I swear it wasn’t me…”

“Look at me and tell me you didn’t know Stan was there.”

“I… I knew. I crossed his path while I was heading out and he has a girlfriend. It’s them you saw, not me.”

He laughed, humorless.

“And what is next? You’re going to say she looks exactly like you? That you have a doppelganger?”

“Yes! Her name is Roxanne, and I know it’s tough to believe, but she looks like me. And it was so disturbing that I…”

“How convenient! Cut the crap. Don’t waste my time more than you already have. Just tell me why? Why? Why did I do to deserve this?”

He was crying now and you were too. You slowly approached him, hands in front of you as if you didn’t want to scare him.

“Charles, please look at me. Do you sincerely believe I could do something like that to you? After all we’ve been through? Damn, I sacrificed my job for you, I told you about Luc and you know how hard it was for me, you’ve met my parents…”

“Maybe it was just part of your plan so I could trust you and let my guard down. After all you hated me just a few months ago, why would you have changed your mind so easily?”

“And for what? Getting some sort of stupid revenge for Luc’s death? Getting famous? Come on, Charles, it’s stupid. Do you think I’m capable of doing that? For real.”

“You tell me,” he spitted.

“If so, then you don’t know me at all… I thought, you out of all people, would be the one who would always stand by my side and…”

“Don’t play the victim now! I was the one who’s been cheated on. I was the one who thought I had met the love of my life. I was the one who was already planning how I would get down on one knee to propose.”

“And I’m the one who is wrongly accused! Charles, please… I would never do something so cruel to you. Or to anyone.”

“I just can’t believe you… I can’t. Even if I wanted to. Stan being there, a girl who looks exactly like you as his girlfriend. Is there at least someone who could confirm when you left the paddock?” When you shook your head, eyes glued to the ground, his last hope shattered. “I want you gone tomorrow. I’ll make the arrangements so you have a flight back home. You can stay in the apartment until early december. The team is running some tests after Abu Dhabi, I won’t be back in Monaco until then. It should give you the time to find something somewhere,” he mumbled, unable to look you in the eye.

“So… this is it then? You are breaking up with me? After all we’ve been through?”

“You broke my trust.”

“Or maybe you’ve never fully trusted me.”

Charles spent his weekend in autopilot mode. He had asked his team to not mention you and from his tone, everybody had understood that it was better to not mess with him. He had put all his rage and heartbreak into his driving, managing an amazing pole position and today, with the race, nothing else mattered. He wouldn’t focus on anything else than on his car. And then he would push in Abu Dhabi until the very last corner. Ferrari could still snatch the P2 of the constructors from Mercedes and it was now Charles’ only goal. Push and push and push. Again and again and again. And if he had to break down, it would only be when the camera would be turned down and when he would be at home.

The race had almost been perfect with a perfect start. If Max had not played nasty, Charles was confident he could have kept the lead and increased the gap between him and the Red Bull. But a messed up strategy had forced him to push to the limits until the final lap and the battle with Perez and that final overtake. The celebrations went by in a blur and despite his team wanting nothing more than to take the celebrations in the nearest casino, Charles needed to be alone. So he packed his bag and made his way out.

“How does it feel to have the love of your life being taken away from you?” a voice he could recognise from miles around made him stop in his tracks.

There he was. Stan. Alone and leaning against a wall.

“Fuck off. I’m not in the mood to hear you brag. You got what you wanted, get out of my life, now. And don’t feel like you need to come back.”

“I told you Leclerc that I wasn’t done with you. You've taken her away from me once, it was only fair that I would return you the favor. That being said, I have one more surprise in store for you.”

“I’m not going to let you play mind games with me.”

“But I’m sure you will absolutely love it.” he moved away from the wall, as he let his arm hang behind him as if he was motioning to someone to come around. “Baby, can you come here for a minute, I would like to introduce you to an old friend,” he smirked, and when the woman came out from behind him, Charles felt like his world was shattering for the second time of the weekend. “Roxanne, here’s Charles. Leclerc, please meet my gorgeous girlfriend, Roxanne.”

Charles’ mouth went dry because as unbelievable as it sounded, Roxanne was looking exactly like you. And he had screwed up. Big time. And he didn’t know if there was a way for him to redeem himself after having hurt you that bad. But still, he was determined to win you back, even if it would be the last thing he had to do in his life.

Author's note: This chapter was a pain in the ass to write but here it is. It absolutely broke my heart in every ways possible but I'm glad it is yours now! Still one chapter before the end of the story and then it will be the epilogue.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r @queensassybitchsworld @jehun @reengard @valntynebaby

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#f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #cl16 #scuderia ferrari #ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc fic #f1 x reader #cl16 x reader #driver x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

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schumachersricciardo · 18 days

Text

Shiver

Chapter Four - Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING!

This chapter contains descriptions of physical, emotional, AND mental abuse by a parent to their child. It contains descriptions of the aftermath of the physical abuse. It also contains scenarios where reader is verbally abused by a parent. If this is triggering for you, there will be a TLDR at the very end of the chapter. Please scroll down to the end of this page if you want to know what this chapter is about, but not read it in its entirety.

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, not proofread, anxiety and panic, crying, alcohol consumption, a mention of throwing up (but not graphically or anything), allusions to a smutty situation, mentions of female anatomy, making out (??), angst, hurt/comfort, physical/mental/emotional/verbal abuse - read above.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ About 12.3k words, lmao. Oops

♡ A/N: For one, this chapter was so emotional and personal for me to write. I'm very happy with the way that it turned out, as it took me about two days to complete it! It's quite a long chapter, so please take breaks if you need to. Thanks again for being so nice to me, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, this chapter is not in chronological order of events. I based the sections on what lyrics are put and what I thought would go well with them.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU DECIDE TO READ OR NOT READ!

If you or anyone you know is a victim of abuse, please do not hesitate to call the provided numbers after clicking any of the links at the bottom of this page.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

based on the song lover of the light by mumford and sons

“Stretch out my life and pick the seams out

Take what you like, but close my ears and eyes

Watch me stumble over and over”

Mick knew from a very early age that having solid friendships was something very important to have in order to build a strong foundation in life. He saw that modeled so dearly by his father, and all the friendships he had made over the years. His older sister had great friends who treated Mick with nothing but respect… And some pranks. And his mother (besides the envied relationship she had with his father, her husband) always stressed that having good, pure of heart friendships would take you further in life than anything else.

And for the first time in his life, Mick felt that warmth and joy with you just weeks after you had moved to Germany. Your friendship bloomed quickly and tightly, as you two seemingly became inseparable. It was a rare sight seeing one of you, without the other at school. Everyone could notice the shift in momentum when you were absent and Mick was left confused as to what to get to lunch that day. And vice versa, when he’d be gone - you’d be often found wandering around the school’s library not actually picking out a book, at every recess you had.

But Mick as bad at math as he was, was more acutely aware of any signs of emotional or mental change in you than one would believe. He could see it in your expressions and body language if you were going through something at home. Your nose would scrunch more and you’d have more difficulty doing simply math problems than usual. You made it a point to never chew on your pencils or straws, but if you were particularly stressed… You could easily bite through the stick of lead or plastic. Mick knew this and he recognized it more as your friendship grew. Most of the time, you’d reassure him with the exact smile he fell in love with and most of the time he’d take your word for it.

Except the day he didn’t and refused to let up when he could tell it was more than just stress.

“It’s fine, Mickey, just drop it.”

“I will not drop this, Smidge!” Mick was now chasing his best friend down as she stormed out of his room.

“Leave it alone, ugh!” You spat back, as you opened the back door and tried to create some space between you and the blond boy. You took your hair out its ponytail holder in frustration, trying to make that antsy feeling going away by running furious hands through your hair.

“Smidge, I swear, if you do not tell me what is going on right now-“

“Oh, you swear?” You turned on your heel in anger and gestured towards whatever imaginary thing you were gesturing as you huffed. “You swear you’re going to do something about it? Huh? Fuck off, Mick!”

Mick let out a scoff, which kind of turned into a laugh? He was laughing now? You rolled your eyes and turn your back on him once again. You had plopped yourself on the lawn, looking out at the vast city line in front of you. You began to pick at the grass below you, your hands needing something to fiddled with to try and center your anxiety. You took a deep breath. Mick could see from behind the way your shoulders rose, and shakily fell. He knew you were trying not to cry. And of course he never wanted to see you cry, but part of him wishes you did. He knew it would probably make you feel better… But to be honest, the last time he could remember you crying in front of him was when you fell off your scooter just a few meters from the very house you were constantly visiting. Mick tried to shake that happy thought out of his mind, because he didn’t want to ruin it.

“Smidge… Please, I know there is something bothering you, and I promise I will not tell anybody else… But you know I hate it when I cannot help you.” Mick spoke softly as he took a seat beside you. You avoided eye contact.

Mick was trying to decipher what your facial expression was like, but your hair had fallen and was covering the view. He took a deep breath and reached his hand over to yours. Grabbing your fingers delicately, while also trying to get you to stop pulling out the grass, he gave your hand a squeeze. You squeezed back gently and still without making eye contact, you scooted closer to him. You leaned against him, your head on his shoulder. He adjusted as needed, his right arm placed behind him so he could support the both of you.

You always found comfort and safety tucked underneath him. And you knew that you two would be sharing a blanket and watching a movie in no time. But that fleeting thought only gave you a second of relief. The two of you remained in silence as you listened to the rustling of the wind as it danced with the leaves and branches. You could hear birds chirping in the distance and you could practically cut the calmness of the world around you with a knife. This is where you wanted to be. You never wanted to leave this spot, but life was never that kind and soon enough, reality pulled you back in as Mick’s humming brought you and your daydreaming to a halt.

“I didn’t do well on my last math exam.” You stated.

Mick stopped humming. He was trying to figure out why that of all things had you so upset. He didn’t comment though

“I got a B- or something…” You sighed. “I studied and I studied… But I only got a B-… It was humiliating.”

“I am sorry about that, Smidge. I know how much you value getting good grades.” Mick finally responded. His tone was… trying to be supportive, but he really didn’t understand why getting a B- in math was so devastating. He would LOVE to get that grade on a math exam, even after studying.

“I don’t care about getting good grades, Mickey.” You retorted quicker than you probably should have. You stiffened your posture and moved away from him. Your heart rate was picking up and you were getting nervous. Mick noticed. He noticed everything when it came to you.

The blue eyed boy wasn’t sure what came over him next, but as you sat now sort of in front of him, he guided his hand up to your face and moved your hair out of the way. He tucked in what he could behind your ear, a few pieces falling still. You looked up at him and he could finally see… and feel just how distraught you were.

“He cares that I get good grades.” You finally croaked out.

Mick’s facial expressions now were the confusing ones. At first he was relieved you told him. The next second he was confused as to why that was the reason you were upset…. And the third was panic. And he’d never admit this to you, but if it were because of some guy at your school making fun of you for something like that… Oh he’d have some words with that person.

“Oh… Ehmmm… Oh…” Mick pressed his lips together in confusion. You could see the gears moving in his head as he tried to figure out who you were talking about.

“My dad.” You finally cut him off. He looked as though he was about to give himself an aneurysm if you didn't stop him from thinking so hard.

“Oh.”

Now, Mick has always had his suspicions about your home life. For instance, when you didn’t come to class one day when you two were younger, the teacher had made a comment about if he knew about your home life or not. He then went to his father and asked advice. He let it go for the time being, because you really weren’t absent a lot, but he made sure make a mental note for later. Seemingly, you had a pretty decent home life. You got along with your older brother, and you always said your mom was one of your best friends. Albeit, you never spoke much about your father. He was in the military and pretty high up in command. His job was very ‘hush hush,’ so even you, his daughter had limited if information on what he actually did as well. You always spoke about him with respect though, and never making it seem like there was anything going on at your house.

But Mick… Mick was sorely mistaken. You were wearing a zip up jacket which wasn’t uncommon, but Mick did think it was a bit warm for it. He never would dream on commenting on what you were wearing though. Slowly, you peeled the jacket off of you and as slowly as you did, was as slowly as he could process what was in front of him.

Your arms were littered with bruises. Not just bruises, fingerprints. Someone was pressing into your skin, your precious beautiful skin so hard that they left their fingerprints. Mick blinked quickly, trying to see if his brain was playing tricks on him. Soon enough, you took off your shirt as well. Mick didn’t even care to notice you in your sports bra. But there were even more bruises on your skin that you had been covering for some time now. Based on the yellowing on the biggest one near your ribs on your left side… You had gotten hurt a while ago. Yet, there were bruises on your back and your chest that indicated they were fairly new. Mick felt like his heart was going to explode and his brain was going to go with it.

You allowed him to look at you - to process the information presented. You thought that showing instead of telling would be more effective, anyway. Moments later, you put your shirt back on and sighed. And if you weren’t sat in the middle of Mick’s backyard, you’d shed your leggings too to show the damage there.

Mick shakily breathed out your name, which he never called you. He always called you Smidge or Liebling - never your real name. He himself felt tears brimming in his eyes as he watched you put your shirt back on and throw your hair back into a ponytail. It was as though the visual he was getting was completely different from the mental images he was receiving. He couldn’t catch up and he just did not know what to do.

“How long?”

Mick finally gained composure and demanded to know more. His tone was serious, short. He was never this… Cold with you? You could tell he was absolutely fuming too. The tips of his ears were turning red as his jaw pulsated with every clench of it. Now he was the one unconsciously grabbing clumps of grass and ripping them to shreds.

“What???” You tilted your head.

“How. Long. Has. He. Been. Beating. You.” The angrier he got the more German he got too. His accent was quite thick as he stood to his feet and began pacing. It was never a good sign when he would pace. His fists were wound up in tight balls, knuckles pale white with tension, as he thought of every scenario in which he could kill your father, and get away with it.

“Mickey-“

“No, don’t you dare ‘Mickey’ me right now! How long has he been beating you up?” Mick cut you off and rushed towards you. He was just inches from you now.

You knew he was angry, irate even. And you knew he’d never hurt you, and that this anger was not directed towards you. But on instinct, you backed up as your breath caught in your chest.

Mick shook his head, running his hands through his hair. He knew his parents would be home soon and he knew if they saw how angry he was… They’d have questions, and he could never lie to them… Which means they’d figure out exactly what was going on with you… Which meant… Well, war.

You took another deep breath and bravely closed the gap between you. You had never felt anything like you had before Mick. You had never had a boyfriend, nor any friends that even came close to the security you felt with him. You reached up and caressed his cheek, his face leaning into the palm of your hand. You almost never initiated physical touch besides leaning on him. But he always welcomed it no matter how limited it would be. He closed his eyes and grabbed your hand in his, the both of them interlocking as he nuzzled into your hand farther.

“I…I can’t remember how long, Mickey. I can’t remember how long it’s been since it started.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I have done wrong, you build your tower

But call me home and I will build a throne

And wash my eyes out never again”

There were rare occasions that you and Mick were not together, but he was handsome and simply because of his surname, was like catnip to ladies. While you were still in Formula Three, Mick had graduated to Formula Two. Even so, having his last name meant he was probably getting more invites than the average person.

But come on, no one is average in Monaco.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Yeah, you too!”

Women’s bathrooms at parties and clubs were something else. There was no caste system in place and if you needed to cry about your ex or needed to puke your brains out before Gasolina came on (but who wouldn’t), a women’s bathroom at a club felt like the safest place to do those things.

“You’re with Shoemaker, right?” The very clearly drunk girl beside you yells in your face. Sure, you were also drunk… But why was she yelling?

“Schumacher.” You corrected.

“Yeah!! He has blond hair and is super hot? Yeah, dude, my friend was hardcore hitting on him and getting the vibe from him…” The girl beside you held in a burp… Or maybe she just was just not trying to puke in her mouth.

“Sure, he’s handsome.” You finally answered. You just wanted to get some water.

“Oooookay, well I th-think my girl is going to try and make a move on your friend,” The drunk girl slurred as she was trying to get the cap of her lipgloss separated from the tube of the glossy pink liquid. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything between you guys!”

The girl began applying her lipstick as you tried to process what she was saying through your own drunken state. Finally, it all came together and you turned your head to face her.

“You hunted me down just to ask me if your friend has permission to sleep with Mick?” You tried to sound as sober as possible.

The girl shrugged her shoulders and shot a quick smile to you as she gathered her purse.

“W-Well, you guys are always together! She just wanted to make s-sure you weren’t a thing.” You nodded as she finished speaking and primping her hair.

And maybe it was because you were drunk, the emotion of jealousy arose in you. Luckily, your cheeks were already flush from the shots of tequila you consumed earlier. You were sure Mick always had girls trying to hit on him and maybe they were successful in doing so. Mick was an adult and as long as they were consenting adults too, what’s the harm in him having a little bit of fun?

What’s the harm, right?

“No, Mickey and I are not a thing. So, uh, tell your friend to not worry about - not to worry about me.” You finally responded as you blotted a cold and wet paper towel on your face. The girl grinned and blew a kiss in your general direction, soon then stumbling out of the bathroom just as clumsily as she had stumbled into it.

You took a few deep breaths and looked down at your phone screen. The letters were moving on the screen as you tried to focus your eyes long enough to reach the Uber app. You didn’t know why you wanted to leave all of a sudden. Consciously, you knew Mick had his pick of women and probably picked from them when he wanted to. Yet again the giant green monster clung to your chest as if it was part of your beating heart. Sloppily typing your location into Uber, you managed to click ‘Order.’

Your driver is 13 minutes away.

You took one last look at the bathroom sink making sure that at the very least you had your wallet and hotel key card. Nodding to yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back into the sea of sweaty bodies and blasting music. The exit sign was aglow about 50 yards in front of you??? No - that can’t be right. 50 feet? 50… Dancing bodies? And as you did your best to toddle over to the exit, you finally managed to get out the door.

The crisp, cool air was a refreshing touch after being in a crowded club for hours now. Frankly, you didn’t like going out to clubs, but Mick did and any chance to score some free tequila was always a win in your book. You leaned up against the wall beside the club closing your eyes.

“Smidge? Was machst du hier draußen (What are you doing out here)?” A familiar voice, a very hoarse one at that brought you out of your drunken mini nap as you pried your dry eyes open to see who that was.

“Sie sollten nicht alleine draußen sein (You should not be outside by yourself).”

Mick’s usual perfectly coiffed hair was messily atop his head as his porcelain cheeks were red with the heat of the club and many shots of jäger he did. He wore a simple dark blue button up and black jeans. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows lazily matching the state of his hair. You smiled at the boy in front of you and eyed his hair up and down.

“I’m going home, Mickey. Well, not home-home.” You shrugged shoving your phone in his face. He backed up and his eyes squinted at the screen.

Your driver is 8 minutes away.

“Alright, Smidge.” Mick took a lean against the same wall just next to you.

Your shoulders were barely touching when you could feel his fingers try and find yours as your arms were at your side. Your heartbeat began to pick up as your hand finally found his. And it wasn’t a full hand hold… Yet this felt much more intimate. Barely interlocking fingertips, he hummed softly to himself as he looked up at the night sky.

“How did you even know I was out here? I thought you were getting hot and heavy with some chick somewhere.”

Mick let out a breathy laugh. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled widely.

“Hot and heavy?” He repeated in jest.

“Shut up.”

You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to look at him. You knew he was staring at you with those eyes and you also know you turn into a puddle when you look into them… especially when drunk.

“But no, I was not getting hot and heavy with that chick somewhere.” Mick finally spoke. “I’ll always find you, Smidge. Ihre Sicherheit steht für mich an erster Stelle (Your safety is my number one concern).”

“Ich bin erwachsen (I’m an adult).” You groaned looking at your phone screen.

Your driver is 4 minutes away.

The two of you stood again in silence as you still waited for your driver to arrive. Mick hummed to himself and suddenly, was kneeling on the ground. You looked down in utter confusion as he began to undo the clasps to your heels. He didn’t say a word as he managed to effortlessly undo both shoes of yours… And you were honestly impressed because you thought he was way more drunk than you. Taking something out of his own crossbody bag, he opened a tiny case and handed you some flats. You had told him a while ago about these ballet flats you saw on the internet that easily folded up for ease of access. You didn’t think he was paying attention, but there he was as he slipped the flats onto your feet and grabbed your heels.

You were frozen in stance. He was acting so casually as he looked down the road for the driver. Your heels were in his one hand while the other reached behind him for your hand. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his and walked over to the curb.

“I think I see our driver.”

“Our driver?”

Your best friend and you exchanged equally as confused expressions. Mick’s expression was that of offense and disbelief, while yours was of perplexity and unsureness.

“Well, yeah. I am not about to send you back to your hotel room in the middle of the night in Monaco - alone.” Mick stressed and stretched out the last word as if it were supposed to be something completely obvious to you.

“Again though, I am an adult, Schumacher.”

Soon enough, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb and rolled down his driver’s window. The driver asked you for your name and as you recited your first and last name for some odd fucking reason, Mick opened the back door for you and ushered for you to get into the car. You eyed him carefully trying to decode his actions. Sliding into the car and putting your seat belt on, you were surprised when Mick also slid into the car.

“Can I change the address of the Uber? I will pay whatever you need to do so.” Mick chirped as he leaned towards the driver.

Your best friend and the driver exchanged the how’s of it all, and finally the car began to drive away from the still busy club scene.

“Why did you give him your address?” You whispered. You could feel the alcohol still inside yourself, swimming in your veins.

“Alone. Hotel room. Alone. Monaco. Alone-“

It was as though Mick was reciting the Winter Soldier’s trigger words. He spewed off the reasons and tried to also go through the whole ‘Concern for your safety,’ lecture one more time, this time with more emphasis. And truly, you didn’t know what came over you - or maybe you did and maybe those tequila shots were in fact a terrible idea - but as he was ranting and raving about the streets of Monaco and how (and this was very true) unsafe it was to be a woman alone at this time of night, you leaned over and cut him off with a press of your lips to his.

Mick’s hands found your waist as you had your hands on either side of his face. You had to remind yourself that you were still in the back of the Uber. Pulling away, you could see how glassy his eyes were, yet still filled with the same affectionate expression he always had towards you. Cuddling and tucking yourself into his side, you could hear him humming as he draped a hand over you.

“Thanks, and sorry for the confusion earlier.” Mick gave the driver an extra cash tip before the two of you made it to his condominium.

Mick drunkenly fumbled with his keys with one hand while holding yours with his other hand. You tried to pry your hand from his so he could have an easier way of unlocking his front door, but the grip he had on you said otherwise.

“If I can have a super license… I can open the door with one hand, Smidge.” The front door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity.

The two of you shed your shoes and as he plopped your heels down on the counter and washed his hands, you managed to find some food in his fridge.

“I’m drunker than I thought…” Mick mumbled as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you. You ever so slight leaned your head back so your the sides of your heads were touching.

And as you both looked at the inside of the fridge, not wanting to move, you could only turn around to face the boy. You put your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his forehead. The intimate act was not lost on Mick, either. And this time his hum sounded differently than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you tightly to his body.

Finally as you two peeled apart, you grabbed a few beers and some leftover pizza, turning on your heel. Mick followed you as you navigated your way into his room. Well, he’d also just follow you anywhere, but as you entered his room, he could swear he was dreaming.

Mick helped you put the food and beer down and told you he was just going to changed into sweats as he disappeared into his bathroom. At the same time, you rummaged through his closet and drawers to find clothes. You dawned one of his old Ferrari shirts and some shorts you found that actually fit you.

After you both had changed, you got comfortable and sat on his bed criss cross waiting for him to come back. Mick was in his bathroom, his sweats already on, but his mind racing a mile a minute.

You both were way too drunk (even if it didn’t seem like it) to take things anything further, but for some reason tonight the ambience was much different - more intimate. It was the feeling he so desperately longed for you to feel as well. He’d never force you or guilt you into feeling the way he always has for you, but he was just happy to be able to be there for you when you reciprocated.

Even if it was just for one night… Mick kept repeating in his head as he splashed his face with water.

Mick exited the bathroom and smiled softly at the sight in front of him. You were absolutely glowing and the fact that you were wearing his clothes was even better. This was the life he wanted with you, and he knew he’d wait an eternity to earn it. And in any lifetime, he would want to find you, he knew that much to be true.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Skin too tight and eyes like marbles

You spin me high, so watch me as I glide

Before I tumble homeward, homeward”

Mick was absolutely dominating Formula Two, just as he did in Formula Three. So there you were visiting Mick the day before free practice was going to start in Silverstone.

He knew that your mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and that your time was vastly being taken up by transporting her from place to place when you could. Mick would always offer to help, but you didn’t want him to get involved in your family drama… Well, with your father.

“I think you’re going to do great things tomorrow, Mickey.” You smiled widely as you went to reach for something in the cupboard above you. The two of you were at his hotel room as he relaxed after a hard day of training and sim driving.

“You always say that, Smidge.” Mick peered over his shoulder to you, his eyes half focused on the video game’s loading screen in front of him.

The sound of dishes breaking quickly pulled him out of his half trance. He was on his feet and over to you as fast as Edward stopped that van crashing into Bella.

Your hand had been cut by the falling and breaking glass, the blood slowly beginning to pour out of the wound. You were praying you didn’t have to get stitches.

Mick responded hastily, grabbing the nearest dish towel and wrapping your hand with it. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. He repeated in the back of his head as he pressed gently to your palm.

“I could have helped you, Smidge.” Mick broke the silence as you winced at his touch. As he helped you to your feet, he guided your hand under the now streaming water.

“I’m a big girl, Mickey.” You retorted, clearly aware that you were contradicting yourself as he washed your wound of any passing infections.

He just hummed in response as he shut the water off and examined your hand. He repeated that he thinks you didn’t need stitches, and that he would return shortly the first aid kit. True to his word, he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking too, the way his touch was almost nonexistent because it was so soft as he bandaged your hand. Oddly though, you cowered in pain as he moved your arm to the side. It was an unseemly way of moving it, too as Mick tried to see if the bandage was tight enough on the side of the hand he couldn’t see.

Mick cocked his head to the side and stared at you with one look: That better not have been because of what I fucking think it is.

You hesitated being the one to break the looming silence between you two now, but you thought if you didn’t he’d say it aloud - and to have someone else say it aloud was sometimes worse than you admitting it.

“It’s not what you-“

“Show me.” Mick cut you off, his deepening blue eyes piercing the air with every hyperbole you could think of.

“Mickey, it’s really nothing. You just moved my arm a weird way, I’m okay.”

“Show. Me. Now.”

And as you always do what you’re told, you lifted your shirt slightly and before you could even take it off, Mick was stood on his feet and typing something into his phone. He didn’t utter a word to you for the next several minutes, he was just typing furiously on his phone. You had put your shirt back on and remained silent and sat on the hotel’s couch. You knew there was no stopping whatever he was doing.

“I have to finalize it, but you are to have security now. One guard, or eighteen, I do not care - You are no longer going to be alone.”

“Mick, I can’t have a security guard. I don’t even want one.” You took a deep breath and exhaled.

“I do not fucking care! I don’t! I really do not fucking care.” Mick had slammed his phone down on the counter making you flinch.

Fuck. And as he watched you carefully, you began to sob for only the third time in your entire friendship. Mick cursed himself in all the languages he knew as he approached you with trepidation. Sitting beside you, he began to mutter apology after apology, also in every language he could muster up in that moment. Mumbling again to himself, he grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapped you both in it. You were still crying as you tucked yourself safely into his side. You felt badly for staining his shirt.

“Ich weiß nicht, was ich tun soll (I don’t know what to do).” You spoke in a whisper as you gripped onto his shirt with dear life.

And frankly, maybe his way was a bit extreme, but he only had one train of thought as he hummed between the two of you, his arm tightening around you.

Take you far away from him and bring her home to you, Schumacher.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I know I tried, I was not stable

Flawed by pride, I miss my sanguine eyes

So hold my hands up, breathe in and breathe out”

As school children, it seemed like the two of you were inseparable. There were weekends where you didn’t see him, of course, but you’d always get to talk on the phone after his karting events. You truly appreciated the way his family opened up their home and arms to you, as well. You really didn’t know how much they knew about your own home life, but it was something to be said that they never invaded your privacy.

Mick had finished second in his karting race, which wasn’t the result he obviously was vying for, but it was amazing nonetheless. As his family made their way back to the hotel room, he got cleaned up and made his way over to the tiny kitchen.

“Has she called yet?” Mick’s small voice interrupted his mother’s train of thought.

“No, baby. But I will let you know when she does; I always do.” Mick’s mother reassured him as he frowned and walked towards the tv area of the hotel room.

Mick’s mother sighed and watched her son sulk on over to the couch. She knew how much he cared for you, and even as young as he was, she also knew he loved you. He might have not known it was love at the time, but she knew all the signs of it and he exhibited every single one of them. She put away whatever she was working on, and made her way over to the couch. She sat beside her son and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“Is there something wrong, Sohn (son)?”

“She never is this late to call me, Mama…” He quietly uttered. “I think there is something wrong.”

While his mother pressed for more information he truly didn’t have, he tried his best to vocalize all the things he noticed about you that were not typical. His mother began piecing the tiny bits of information he was giving to her together and all she could was sigh. She couldn’t have fathomed what you were going through at home and maybe Mick didn’t realize the signs as he listed them off for her, but she sure did. Part of her wanted to do something about too, right then and there… But it wasn’t totally her place either. She didn’t know the severity of the situation or if Mick was retelling things as correctly as a young boy could. All she could do was put it in the back of her head and make note of it.

A few hours later, Mick’s mother entered the room where Mick was relaxing on the full sized bed. He was playing some game on his Gameboy, his tongue slightly hanging out in pure concentration. She cleared her throat and handed him her phone. It took him a second to register what was happening, but as soon as it clicked he put his Gameboy down and grabbed the phone excitedly. Mick’s mother couldn’t help but smile as she left her son to his own devices.

“Smidge! Finally, you call. I have been waiting all afternoon for you to call!” Mick was energized now as he set up on his bed. He could hear you shuffling around, presumably trying to find a place to sit.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

Now, Mick was around a lot of loud karts and when he’d go to his dad’s races, those were even louder. Was his hearing as bad as it was at his age or were you being abnormally quiet?

“Smidge? I can barely hear you! You have got to learn to speak up on the phone.”

Again, you said something but he could barely understand it. He tried to push you to speak louder as he pressed the phone to his ear as closely as he humanely could.

“Es tut mir… Leid. Ich… verstecke… mich und muss… flüstern… (I’m sorry. I’m hiding and I have to whisper).” You finally sputtered out in broken German.

Mick’s eyes widened as he finally understood what you were telling him. He didn’t care if you spoke an entirely different language, he would do anything he could to understand you.

“Vor wem versteckst du dich (Who are you hiding from)?” Mick was fully sat up, his legs dangling off the side of the bed now as he was on alert. It took you another few moments to gain enough bravery to speak.

“I’m hiding from-“

Suddenly, you were cut off by a booming voice. The voice was deep and loud enough that Mick could hear it over the phone. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he tried not to be afraid. The voice on the other line was muddled, but Mick picked up a few things here and there.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE PHONE?”

“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME, GIRL!”

“I’m sorry, dad! I’m sorry, please!” Your voice was frantic as you defended yourself to the best of your ability.

Mick was rushing now to where his mom sat on that same couch. He gestured for her to put it on speaker and listen too. Mick’s mother’s expression fell as she listened to absolute abuse you were going through and she knew right then and there, it would be something she would have to do something about.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you stupid little girl!”

“Daddy, please-“

And then the line went dead, with the sound of your phone being crushed - stepped on in brute force.

Your voice was so tiny as you shrunk into yourself. You had no intention of allowing the Schumacher’s to hear that part of your life. You were deeply worried that they were going to try and intervene now and make matters… worse? You had a million thoughts going a million miles a minute.

But just as fast as those thoughts raced through your mind, was just as fast as your father stepped the phone. Mick knew you would deny everything, or at least tell him that your father was just exceptionally upset that day. He knew you’d come up with any and every excuse to protect the very man who was supposed to be protecting you. Mick couldn’t comprehend any of it. But he knew he would be there for you to make sure when you were ready, and you let your guilt be washed away… That he would make certain you never hurt again.

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“And in the middle of the night, I may watch you go

There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown

There'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

You may not trust the promises of the change I'll show

But I'd be yours if you'd be mine”

Mick and the rest of his family were on a short summer break in Australia. He offered for you to join him as he always wants you by his side, but due to your mother’s declining health you had to refuse. Of course he understood, but he was still disappointed. He remembered distinctly you telling him that Australia was one of your favorite places and that you wish you could move there one day.

And it being summer in Australia, the sun was sweltering and Mick was trying not to get sunburnt as he sat under the tree near the lake where his family was staying. There was an old bench swing attached to the large branches above it. Mick debated the stability of the swing and the branches, but eventually gave in and sat on it. Gently swinging back and forth, he took in the scenery and the sight of the beautiful vast lake in front of him.

He missed you. And sure he missed all his other friends, but you weren’t just anybody else. He missed you. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and searched for your name. Opening up the text message thread between you two, he began to type.

Smidgen ❤️: Smiiiiiiiidge, i misssssssss you!!

You were at your mother’s house, trying to spend as much time with her as you could. She was taking a nap in the recliner beside you when you heard your phone ding.

You: Mickey, you sound drunk. Are you drunk? You know you’re not supposed to text people when you’re inebriated 😅

Mickey 🐭: Never! But I am not drunk, I just miss you.

You: Mick, you always miss me. How is Aussie?

Mickey 🐭: Boring without you.

You: As are most things. I’m sorry I couldn’t join you this year.

On the other side of the world, Mick sighed as you two continued to text. He loved his family and he loved his off time, but a deep seated part of him that had been growing and growing over so many years worried about you being by yourself. What if something were to happen and he was three continents away from you? What if he couldn’t protect you? You had always tried to reassure him that you could take care of yourself when he would be away, and that typically when you were at your mother’s house, you in fact were left undisturbed.

He knew this. But he didn’t care for it nonetheless.

Another two weeks went by on his vacation and as he tried to keep busy with various adventurous activities, the image of your smile and the sound of laughter filled his brain as if it they were always meant to be there, resting neatly in the crevices of his mind.

There was only about a week and a half left before he got to go back home to Germany. Mick was sprawled out on his bed, listening to some music. Soon, the sound of the doorbell ringing caught his attention. He was the only one currently home, so he annoyingly turned his music off and got up to go see what the fuss was about. Upon opening the door he was stopped in his tracks. He practically had to scoop his jaw off of the floor.

“Smidge? Do my eyes deceive me?” You shook your head with a grin.

Mick engulfed you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and peppering your face with kisses. He was always very affectionate with you. He brought you inside and gathered his breath back into his lungs. You had a duffel bag and a backpack with you that you managed to set down finally after the long awaited reunion was over. Looking around the house that was clearly lived in, you turned back to your best friend. He was grinning one of the biggest grins you had ever seen on his face while he grabbed two water bottles. Opening yours for you, he handed you the bottle and waited for you to sip it.

“I cannot believe you are here! I think this is the happiest I have ever been.”

“I can see that!” You laughed along with him as you took a few more sips of water. You sighed happily as you put the cap back on the bottle. “Is there a place I can put my stuff?”

Mick nodded with elation as he grabbed your two bags. Gesturing with his head, he motioned for you to go towards his room. You opened the door and saw that the bed was made and it was fairly clean. It was almost as if he knew you would come here. Mick set down the bags and awaited for you to finish your scan of the room. You turned around and didn’t realize how closely he was standing behind you, as you collided with his body. He used his hands to steady you and definitely took the opportunity to bring you into another hug. The smell of his cologne was familiar; safe. You nuzzled into his chest as his arm found solace wrapped around your body.

He didn’t know why you were here, and he really didn’t care, but he also knew that there was probably a good reason. It had to have been a good reason if you left your mother with her home care nurse, instead of…

Suddenly, Mick braced for the worst.

“Mick… Mick, you’re squeezing me too tightly.” You croaked out trying to unravel yourself from him. Immediately, he loosened his grip on you and smiled slightly.

“Sorry, Smidge. I just missed you a lot.” The two of you made your way to his bed and laid down on it together.

You easily found your way to the side of him and nestled in comfortably while he rested his head on top of yours.

“As glad as I am that you are here… Is your mother…?” Mick awkwardly tried to start a conversation. He needed to know one way or the other.

“She’s alive, Mick. She’s alive.”

The blond boy sighed a sigh of relief, pulling you even closer to him. He could feel his body relax and his body temperature increase when you would cuddle him. He didn’t respond to you, only hummed in consolation.

It had happened before in Monaco, the overwhelming feeling that you needed more from him. He didn’t pry further as to why you were there, and maybe that was a big reason as to why you were feeling pulled to him. For once, he didn’t press you to explain yourself or question why you bought a plane ticket all the way to Australia when your mother was as sick as she was. He simply was there to be there, and that meant more to you than anything at that moment.

You climbed on top of him, your bodies finding their ways around each other. Your legs were on either side of him as you sat on his torso. His hands found your hips, his eyes finding yours. And as glanced down at the boy below you, you wondered to yourself if this was always how it was supposed to be between the two of you. Leaning down and closing the gap between you, you again pressed your lips against his.

It was more fervent this time though. The catastrophic and carnal need to feel his hands roam your body and his lips claim yours as his overwhelmed your senses as your body melted into his. He was vigilant as he explored your body with his hands, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. You had to take a breath between the multiple shows of endearments between the two of you. His eyes were glued to you as you sat back up on his torso. Peeling your shirt off, you tossed it somewhere. Mick just watched in adoration as you removed your bra as well. He looked at your body on top of his as though you were sculpted by DaVinci himself. And by all accounts, you were.

You blushed at the attention he was giving you, only to remove yourself from sitting on top of him. He frowned and wondered if he did anything wrong. But before he could begin mentally listing things he could have done wrong, you tugged on his own shirt. He sat up and reached his hands back behind his head.

“Can I?” You interjected quickly your eyes filled with curiosity.

Mick just smiled and nodded. He let his shirt fall again and waited for you to approach him. You scooted closer to him and took a deep breath in and released. Sure, you had seen him shirtless countless amounts of times, but this was much, much different. You didn’t mind it.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and with a trying motion, you began to pull the shirt over his head. He assisted you a bit, his broad shoulders getting in the way of you being able to pull the shirt completely over his head. Your fingers began to dance down his chest, the circles and trails they were leaving behind was a feeling Mick would never forget. Still sitting up, you climb into his lap and had your legs on either side of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tugged at the hair on the nape of it. Again, with a hunger and desperation you had never felt before your lips crashed into his and his hands found your hair in a hurried attempt to get as close to you as possible.

He never wanted to let go of you and the feeling that came with this. He had loved you for so long. And to have you here, in his bed, making it known that maybe… just maybe you loved him too… He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning. He didn’t want it to be a dream.

“Bist du sicher (Are you sure?)” Mick finally breathed out in between sloppy kisses. You gleamed at him, your lips swollen with fervor. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded. “I need words, schätzen. I need you to say-“

“Yes. I’m sure, Schumacher.”

Mick pulled you in again, his lips finding your neck as he peppered it with kisses, sucking ever so prudently as he made his way up and down the soft skin of your neck.

You didn’t know what would come after this, after everything was said and done… But for now and just for now, you wanted to be his just as much as he wanted to be yours.

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current day

“So love the one you hold

And I will be your goal

To have and to hold

A lover of the light”

It had to remain to be seen how long Hamilton was going be out of the season. He was going through some personal issues and while you knew Silverstone was going to be your first race, you didn’t expect to have to race before that. And of fucking course your first race is Monaco. You were busy training and preparing for the course, trying your best to keep a strong head on your shoulders. There was so much pressure with you being the first female driver and Monaco being your first official race, that you began to feel nauseous. Finding the nearest bin, you excreted the contents of your stomach into it, grimacing at the bitter taste that came afterwards.

“Kiddo? Are you right?” Daniel’s thick accent interrupted you washing of your hands.

“Yeah, fine. I’m just nervous.” You washed your mouth out with the sink water and wiped it on the nearest towel.

“I get that…” Daniel looked around the paddock as you followed him with your eyes. “Hey, do ya think we can go somewhere private, to chat?”

You cautiously nodded and led him to your driver’s room, shutting the door behind you.

“What’s this about, Dan?”

Daniel awkwardly sat down on the chair and ran a hand through his curls. Making a few tiny popping sounds with his mouth he finally looked at you.

“Is there, uh, something goin’ on with you and Mick?”

“What do you mean?”

Sure, you two weren’t talking as much anymore. And you didn’t think it was that obvious, but you remained stoic trying to gauge where this conversation was headed to.

“He’s been like, really, weird.” Daniel struggled to get the words out as he scrunched up his face.

“Uh… I’m sorry that’s he’s been acting funnily, but maybe he’s going through something on his own.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Well… I mean… He’s acting like, more, sulky than usual?” Nodding along as the Aussie driver continued to list off reasons as to why and how he was more sulky, you finally stopped him before he said anything else.

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry, Dan. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shot him a smile and waited for him to respond.

“He loves you, you know. Like, a lot. Like more than the average man has the capacity for love.” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

The last time you two had really spoken in person was when you ended up fighting. You knew he loved you. You knew he was in love with you… But he also knew that you try so hard to not allow yourself to be vulnerable like that. And maybe the relationship was physically reciprocated, Mick struggled with the fact that it was not emotionally reciprocated more than anything. You loved him, sure. He was your best friend… But the voice inside your head knew that for your own protection, you shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone… Especially Mick. You didn’t deserve him and he didn’t deserve someone who has made him wait this long for something he so desperately craved. All you could do was reiterate that you’d talk to him and try to get him to be less-sulky.

The Australian soon left the room and you were alone. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed Mick.

“Schätzen, is that you? Are you okay?” Mick’s tone was immediately serious as he answered the phone. You two were barely talking and now you were calling him.

“I’m fine, Mickey. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” Mick was fumbling with something on the other end. It was odd too that he didn’t immediately accept your dinner invitation.

“Is tonight not a good night for you?”

Soon, your heart dropped once again and as it lay wafting in the pit of your stomach, you could feel whatever contents were left in there if any, slowly creeping their way back up your throat.

“Who is that?” It was a woman’s voice. She was giggling. “Ugh, Mickeyyyy, hang up!!!”

Mickey.

No one else called him that except for you, in fact he made it a point to not allow it. That name was reserved for you… So you thought.

Mick mumbled something to her in French, his hand covering the microphone.

“Yeah, I could make tonight-“

“Nevermind, you’re busy and I don’t want you to give up your evening just for me.” Your tone as surprising as it was to you, was actually quite genuine. You never wanted him to feel like he couldn’t have fun.

“Smidge, I can-“

“No, seriously it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Mick continued to move around where he was, the thick accent of her Monegasque-ness peeking through the phone call.

If your German was terrible, your French was even worse. You sighed to yourself and decided to hang up the phone. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation and you didn’t want to pay attention anymore. Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your backpack and headed out of the paddock to your car.

There was something that had changed so quickly about your surroundings. As you reached for your keys it was if the wind was knocked out from your lungs. You slowly turned around, keys still in your hand.

How the fuck did he find you here of all places?

“Hello, daughter. Shall we have it out at your place of… work… Or is there somewhere I can knock some fucking sense into you?”

You looked around at the parking lot and by every strand of bad luck, it was seemingly empty and you two were the only ones there. You had every intention of shutting it down, right then and there, but you stood frozen in front of the man who was supposed to love you, but instead you spent your entire life picking up the pieces of the mess he made. Some of the pieces were even lost in the trauma of trying to keep your composure long enough to get where you were. Mick was always the one to lend you the broken parts that seemed to fit perfectly, just so you could have the wherewithal to start over again… And again, and again, and again…

“Did you suddenly go mute? Answer me.” You flinched in response, your back hitting your car behind you. You could just hear him calling you pathetic. You knew he was thinking it.

“I can drive us to my hotel room. Just… Just don’t make a scene, okay?”

Your father rolled his eyes as he snatched the car keys from you. With your head hung like you were a little girl in trouble again, you trudged over to the passenger’s side. You placed your backpack in the back seat and waited for your father to drive off and take you hopefully to your hotel room.

What seemed like a century later, you two were up in your hotel room. You stood on opposite ends of the living space provided.

“This is quite fancy. How can you afford it?”

“Formula One pays well, but I know you’re not here to talk about my job.” You were short with him, trying to keep your emotional and mental distance. “Why are you here, dad? I’m very busy and-“

He hastily closed the distance between you, grabbing the back of your head, clumps of hair intertwining with his knuckles. Forcing you to look up at him, his glaring and empty eyes matched his unwavering stoicism. He squinted at you, smirking.

“Pathetic. You’ve always been fucking pathetic.” Releasing your hair, your father smacked you in the face, causing you to be tossed to the ground, by brute force. He was now circling you like a vulture does a dead zebra. You didn’t dare look up at him. You remained submissive on the floor, making certain that you didn’t shed a tear.

“Where’s your boyfriend now, huh? Not coming to your fucking rescue this time?” You didn’t answer.

With a swift kick to your side you fell over on the cold floor and held your ribs in pain. Still, you did not cry.

“Answer me! I asked you a goddamn question!”

You opened your eyes to find your father towering over you still, sure as hell ready to deliver another kick to your side.

“He’s out with friends! Out with friends!” You repeated in complete fear. You could hear your father scoff and walk away from where you were.

You thought that would be the last of it, and as you began to get up there was another kick to your side. This time it was a little lower as you felt the pain radiating up and down your leg. He must’ve hit your thigh or something.

You were breathing heavily, doing all you could not to cry. After he got a good look at you, he threw your phone down at your feet. He surely shattered your screen. And fuck if it if he didn’t know what he was doing, because he did in fact kick in places you could cover up. And even so, you the blow to your face wasn’t hard enough to leave a lasting mark. Just one for the time being. Fuck.

Soon enough, you could hear the hotel room slam. You were sure you were going to get complaints from other hotel goers, because it ended up shaking the walls. With every bit of strength you had, you reached for your phone. The screen was indeed cracked, but still usable. You knew that Mick was out and occupied… Your heart cried hoping that where he was, he’d hear you and come… But you also didn’t want to bother him… You leaned up against the wall, your breathing shallow. Looking at the phone screen you dialed the only other person you could think of.

On the third ring, they answered and you resented how happy they sounded.

“Oi! Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Daniel’s accent poked through the phone as you tried to gain enough composure.

You were afraid of him seeing you like this, because you were one hundred percent sure he had no idea what abuse you’ve gone through your entire life. It was strictly need to know between you and the Schumacher’s. Releasing the pent up air in your lungs finally, you stuttered out his name.

“Wait, wait, what happened?” Daniel’s tone of voice suddenly changed as you repeated as best as you could the turn of events. You could hear him grabbing his car keys and leaving his apartment.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…” You were incessantly repeating, your sobbing growing louder and louder. He was trying his best to reassure you through the phone. He instructed through his own panic to stay on the phone with him until he got to you.

You obeyed as you always did.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you heard a knock on the hotel door that scared you half to death. Maybe it was your father coming back to finish what he started.

“Hey, it’s Dan. Can you let me in or are you…” Daniel’s voice trailed off into hopelessness. He didn’t want to imagine to you were so hurt you couldn’t even answer the door.

Groaning loudly, holding your side trying to support every weary step you took towards the door, finally you managed to turn the handle enough where Daniel could just push it open. You stumbled backwards as you had to find somewhere to lean up against.

Daniel’s brown eyes were immediately scanning every inch of your body, trying to decode your physical state. You were keeled over the tiny kitchen counter provided. Your shoulders rose and fell far too slowly for anybody’s liking. He saw how swollen and red your cheek had become and there was an emotion begin to bubble in his stomach and protrude through his chest that he rarely ever felt. His kind hand reached out to rub your back, being so careful that he didn’t hurt you. Daniel helped you over to the couch and sat you down. He didn’t dare say words but he knew you would tell him when you were ready.

“He found me at the track… Took my keys and made me tell him where my hotel was…”

Daniel nodded cautiously along, his eyes painstakingly wide as he did his best to take in the information.

“I didn’t have a choice… I didn’t want… Fuck…”

“Hey, it’s… Take your time.” Daniel wanted to say that it was okay, but clearly… it was definitely not. You took another deep breath.

“He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me by my hair, and started yelling at me…. Then slapped me or something… And i fell to the ground…”

Daniel gulped in absolute horror as he did his best to try and keep composure, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth.

“He kicked me in my ribs and in my right leg… I think… I can’t even… Remember…. Then he threw my phone at my feet and left…”

The Aussie boy next to you licked his lips in anxiety and you could see out of the corner of your eye how hard he was gripping the sofa beneath him. A familiar sight to you, as he white knuckled the cloth. Now, it was his turn to take a deep breath.

“Listen, this not your fault and I don’t want you to ever think that it is, alright?” You nodded to his words, unable to make eye contact out of shame and guilt. “I’m going to get some ice, right? It’s just down the hallway. I’m going to take the room key so you can stay here with the door locked.”

Daniel did one more visual pass over you as you slumped to the side of the couch. You were exhausted on all fronts. You knew though you couldn’t fall asleep, in case you had a concussion too. He left the room shortly and as he ventured down to where the ice machine was he was furiously dialing Mick. But to no avail, he wasn’t answering his phone.

DannyRic to MickSchu: Mick!!! Mate!!! Pick up the phone or like, come to the hotel!! She’s in a bad way, mate. And fuck, there’s only so much I can do.

DannyRic to MickSchu: I’m going to murder you mate, please pick up the phone!

Daniel shot off a few more panicked texts after those before he reached the ice machine. He figured you wouldn’t want him texting any other person either. All he could do was wait. He filled the ice bucket and practically sprinted back to your hotel room. Opening the door with the key, he announced himself so as not to scare or startle. You lifted your head and watched him get a towel to wrap the ice in so it wouldn’t burn your skin. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body broken.

If you died tonight, that would be better than anything to follow.

Daniel stuck around for a few more hours, keeping you company as he made sure you got something to eat and drank water as best as you could. He tried to also convince you to tell Toto that you couldn’t race tomorrow in free practice… But that was immediately shut down by you. Daniel didn’t want to fight that battle when there were other matters to attend to.

You could see that it was now dark out, and you had to go to sleep at some point. Sighing to yourself, you turned towards the very tired Aussie.

“I need to shower, Dan… Could you maybe, help me get, in there?”

The Australian’s brown eyes widened so much they encompassed his entire face.

“I, uh… Yeah, I can, uh, do that for you.” Daniel stuttered out as he rose to his feet.

Reaching out a hand towards you, he helped you up and over to the bathroom. He was going to kill Mick for not answering his phone. And Mick was going to kill Daniel for seeing you naked. But what other choices were there? The two of you made it into the bathroom and he motioned for you to sit on the toilet seat.

“Can you raise your arms up at all? I don’t want to have to cut your shirt.” Daniel chuckled nervously. You only nodded with a smile, lifting your arms as far as you could.

“Fuck… I forgot… Fuck…” You cowered in pain as you held your left side. “Okay, I can do it. Just, uh, if you need to stretch out the shirt to get it over my head. I don’t mind.”

He complied with his famous smile and soon your shirt was off and to the side. He could see the forming bruise on your rib cage and couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in internally. He kept his thoughts to himself as he helped you step out of your jeans. Down to your underwear and bra, the tall Aussie just stood there.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You joked. throwing a wink at him. You might as well break the tension with a joke. “But, I really think I got it from here. Thank you so much, Dan.” You placed a kiss on his cheek and as he made his way out of the bathroom, he could hear you singing to yourself before the sound of the water escaping the shower head covered your voice.

He once again took his phone out and finally saw that he had a lot of missed messages from Mick.

(14) Missed Calls from: Mick Schumacher

(29) Text Messages from: Mick Schumacher

Daniel looked through all the texts as fast as he could, but the only watch catching his eye that his friend would be over soon… And that was… About twenty minutes ago… Which means…

“Smidge! Smidge! Let me in, it’s Mick! Let me in, or I swear-“

Daniel opened the hotel door and immediately was greeted by a very distraught man. He let Mick in, and let Mick scour the hotel space like a bloodhound looking for a missing person. Mick stopped short of the shut bathroom door, as he could hear the water running.

“What happed, Daniel? Fuck! I should’ve been here, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” Mick didn’t allow enough time for Daniel to answer before he was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. If it weren’t a hotel room - your hotel room, Daniel was 99% Mick would’ve started to punch the walls.

“Mate, mate, calm down. I can’t talk to you when you’re like, all mad.”

“She even asked me to come out to dinner tonight, and if I just had fucking said yes - God fucking dammit!” Mick didn’t know what to do with his body with the amount of pure, unadulterated fury riddled his body. “I’m so fucking stupid! Ich bin so ein Idiot (I’m such an idiot)!”

Mick continued to yell in German. Daniel could barely speak proper English, so he had no idea what he was saying. The rant was cut off though by the sound of the shower turning off in the distance. Mick took one deep breath and breathed out through his nose.

“Thank you, Daniel… For being there for her.”

Daniel put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Giving it a good squeeze, the two boys said goodbye to each other. Mick made Daniel promised not to tell a soul. And for the first time in his life, Daniel knew he was going to take this promise to the grave.

Mick gained some more self control and pushed the bedroom door open slightly. Giving it a small knock, his voice immediately made you perk up where you were.

“Kann ich den Raum betreten (Can I enter the room)?”

Still wrapped in a towel, you slowly made your way to the ajar door.

“Bist du anständig (Are you decent)?”

“No, but come in anyway, please.”

Mick opened the door further and saw that you were sat on the edge of the bed. The towel hugged you tightly, but he noticed you were gripping it as if it were going to fly away from your body. He rushed to your side and took you into his arms. He could tell you had been crying despite the shower. He didn’t even notice the tiny bruise forming on your face before immersing you into his embrace. Shortly after some time spent in his arms, you peeled away and finally made eye contact.

Mick’s hand went to your bruised cheek, his thumb just above hovering the swelled skin. Your dad had never hit you in your face before, he always was so careful. Mick couldn’t help but stifle back some tears, his previous selfishness clouding his racing thoughts.

“I need help getting dressed for bed, Mick.”

He knew what that meant. He knew exactly what that meant, in fact. But without another word, he kissed your forehead and got up to go over to your suitcase. He took out some underwear and a t shirt. Carefully, he helped you step into your underwear, looking away when you needed to adjust the elastic. The air caught in your chest again as you tried to calm yourself. Mick hummed comfortingly and allowed you to take all the time you needed. Your hand was shaking as you began to take off the towel. You didn’t care about him seeing your chest, no. He’s already seen it. You were not wanting him to see how bruised your torso was and how big of a bruise there was on your thigh. But you had to, and so you did.

Mick couldn’t find the words. He looked down at your bruising body, his lips beginning to tremble. He was shaking his head unable to believe that because of his own stupidity, your body was again bruised and broken.

He helped you put a short on and helped you climb into bed. You just wanted to sleep and dream about a better day tomorrow. Mick made sure you were comfortable before going to turn off all the lights and making sure the hotel door was locked and dead-bolted. He made his way back to you and crawled into the bed with you. Your body was too sore to move around much, so Mick just went where you needed him to be. Soon after you tucked underneath his arm, he could hear you steadily breathing, the warmth and security of his body making you for the first time today feel human again.

“I’m so sorry, Schätzen. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here…” Mick whispered into the air, not knowing if you were asleep or not. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep either. He wanted to stay awake as long as possible just in case your father decided to come back.

“It’s fine, Mickey… Let’s just… Go to sleep…” Your voice was filled with fatigue as you began to doze off into unconsciousness. Mick pulled you closer into his body.

The emotionally sapped German boy who you adored so much was laid there contemplating whether or not he deserved to be there beside you. If anything, Daniel would be the one that deserves this spot. He was there… He came when you called… He was everything Mick promised to be for you, but in failing to do so, Mick just stared at the ceiling frozen in regret. He could feel some tears falling down his face, wiping them quickly with his free hand. Mick took a deep breath once more and suddenly, his mind was made up. He had one goal in life now. He didn’t care about race car driving, or sponsorships… Hell, he didn’t even care about anything else at this point. Mick Schumacher vowed to himself that he would never allow anything else to happen to you from then on and out until the day he died. He knew it, you probably knew it even as you slept on his chest… There was one goal he had now.

Mick Schumacher was going to find your father and make him pay.

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TL;DR: This chapter depicts phases of reader's life as she navigates hiding the abuse she suffers from her best friend. He finds out and he vows to never allow her to be hurt again. There are emotional and romantic boundaries crossed in this chapter too, but nothing too explicit - Just the allusion to reader and Mick having sex. The last part is written for the current day. Reader's abusive father finds her after training and again physically abuses her. Daniel Ricciardo comes to her rescue as they both await Mick to arrive.

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https://www.helpguide.org/find-help

https://nomoredirectory.org/

https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

https://www.domesticshelters.org/resources/national-global-organizations/international-organizations

https://www.therapyroute.com/article/helplines-suicide-hotlines-and-crisis-lines-from-around-the-world

These are some helpful links I found while searching the internet. Please do not hesitate to reach out for help for yourself or anyone you may know is involved in a violent and abusive situation.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #mick schumacher #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #shiver fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #platonic!daniel ricciardo x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #abuse tw #abuse mention

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rebelwrites · 2 years

Text

Before Sunrise He's Your Child

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Charles Leclerc Masterlist

Summary: The season was now over and it was finally time to go on that family vacation

Warnings: Children

A/N Kept this one short and sweet

Requested By Anon // hii, i would like to ask for a fic with dad charles, something like the reader and him with the kids on vacation

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

The sound of your son letting the door to his room slam stirred your sleep, you didn’t need to open your eyes to check the time to know it was far too early for him to be awake. Burying your head into the soft pillow you reach your arm out nudging your husband trying to get him to wake.

“Your son is awake.” you groaned, continuing to tap his bare torso.

“My son?” he mumbled, still half asleep as he reached for his phone, checking the time, squinting at the brightness of the screen.

“Before sunrise he’s your child.”

Charles couldn’t help but let out a throaty chuckle as you quoted the lion king to him. Propping himself up against the headboard he palmed at his eyes trying to rub the sleep away. The only sound that could be heard was your soft breathing signaling you had fallen back asleep and the sound of CJ wandering around the living room of the hotel room. Charles leant over pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder, silently thanking himself for reminding you to put your vest top on just in case he ended up in bed with you guys after your late night activities.

“Papa.” CJ squealed running into the bedroom.

Charles winced at how loud the mini version of himself was being, especially this early in the morning.

“Maman dort encore, petit homme, tu dois chuchoter d'accord. Mama's still sleeping, little man, you gotta whisper okay.” Charles said softly, pulling his finger to his lips.

“Sorry, Papa.” he whispered, as he made his way over the side of the bed where Charles was.

“Why are you awake so early?” Charles asked, wrapping his arms around the six year old, scooping him up and lifting him onto the bed.

CJ snuggled between his father’s legs as Charles pulled the duvet over the both of them, hoping to get his son to settle back down considering it was just gone 4am.

“Je suis surexcité, papa. Nous sommes à Disney. I'm excited, dad. We are at Disney.” CJ whispered. “I didn’t want to be late for breakfast with Mickey Mouse.”

Charles swore his heart burst at the cuteness of his son, for the last month he had been so excited for this two week trip.

“I would never let you be late to have breakfast with Mickey.” Charles hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head. He heard the tiny yawn that escaped from CJ’s lips making him chuckle. “How about we try and get some more sleep, little man. Then you won’t be tired meeting Mickey.”

“Pinky promise we won’t be late?” CJ asked, leaning his head back looking up at his father.

“Je promets. I promise.” Charles smiled, moving so CJ could snuggle between the pair of you.

Charles laid there wrapping his arms protectively around his son, stroking his dark hair trying to lull him back to sleep. Soon enough his son was flat out, leaving Charles lying there with a large smile on his face. This was the time he was looking forward to, no stress about racing, no stressing you out when there were bad crashes. He could finally spend some uninterrupted time with his family.

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @miamedyu @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @micks-afterglow @livo67 @buendiabebeta @pleasedontfollowinlost @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungarian @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @sunf1owerrq @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @sessgjarg

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1

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folkloresthings · 1 year

Note

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

lewis hamilton + mick schumacher x y/n - love triangle (matchmaker gone wrong)

Sir Lewis Hamilton playing cupid only to fall for Y/n in the end but it's too late. I hope this is an acceptable request >.< Congratulations on your 1k!

my first blurb for the 1k celebration!! thank you for the request, i LOVE it.

TANGLED UP. ❨ lewis hamilton x reader , mick schumacher x reader ❩

relationships within the paddock were often complicated, and you knew that. but ever since you stepped foot on the tarmac, you only had eyes for one boy. mick schumacher was an absolute sweetheart, handsome and kind and oh so charming. the one problem was: you had no idea how to approach him.

so, you turned to the only person you knew to for help. lewis was always good to you, taking you under his wing as soon as you got the job at mercedes. you were good friends and you knew you could trust him with this.

“help me,” you practically begged, handing him his morning coffee. “help me flirt with mick. i’m hopeless.”

lewis had obliged, why wouldn’t he? the blonde haired reserve driver was another friend of his, one he was fond of. he’d known his father, and felt somewhat obliged to look out for the boy now that he was with mercedes.

he did everything he could to help: making your schedules overlap, sending mick to hospitality when he knew you were there, giving you tips and tricks on how to get mick’s attention. but somewhere along the way, in spending more and more time with you, lewis felt himself hesitant to help any more.

he suddenly didn’t like the idea of sharing you. he missed you when you weren’t around, he found himself wanting to tell you everything about his day, he was falling in love with you. your lunch times, usually spent with you rambling about mick and him giving you advice, were now spent with your sentences blurring together and lewis gazing at the way your mouth moved around every word.

it was bad, and only getting worse.

“should i just ask him out? like, on an actual date?” you asked, turning your head to where lewis sat in the driver’s seat of one of his many cars. “i mean, do guys like that kind of… forwardness?”

lewis shrugged, not wanting to answer. “i guess so.”

“well, do you?” you prod, and he glances over at you briefly, confused. “if a girl asked you out, made the first move, would you like it?”

lewis stayed quiet. because suddenly all he could think about was you, asking him out, and him saying yes — how could he not? it was all he wanted right now. in fact, he’s sure he’d throw away his entire formula one career if it meant he had you.

“… yeah. i would.”

two days later, he feels his heart flutter as you come bounding over to him in the mercedes garage, a smile brighter than the sun in the sky painted on your face.

“i did it!” you exclaimed, grabbing him by the arms. he freezes, your gentle touch sending shockwaves through him. “i asked mick on a date. and he said yes! we’re going to dinner on friday, after the practice…”

you keep rambling on, telling lewis every little detail about the interaction between you and mick. but lewis could barely listen to it. maybe it was a trauma reaction, blacking out from your lovesick take. but, in reality, he was just staring at the pure happiness that lit up your entire face.

while he wanted to be pleased for you, considering this was all you’d wanted for weeks, he just couldn’t. he wanted to be the name on your tongue, the one you were enamoured with. but he wasn’t, you weren’t. lewis could have punched himself — he’d helped you hook a date with mick. he’d helped himself lose you.

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#💌 ﹐ writings.#part 2??#this is more lewis than mick oops #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton drabble #mick schumacher blurb #mick schumacher drabble #mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader

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leclsrc · 2 years

Note

congrats on 2k!! <3 can i have a [five brushes] with mick in some sort of friends to lovers scenario? tysm :*

hold my hand – ms47

genre: fluff, 2k celebration

auds here... sry this was a 4+1 and not a 5! love u

send for the for the five times our muses almost hold hands and the one time they do.

Maybe it was the chill of November, or the shots of vodka you’d thrown back to celebrate the start of month.

It’s vague when you try to pinpoint when all this started, this wholly new light on your best friend of your entire life, Mick. It’s hazy at the edges, like it’s still a dubious thing—is it really him? Mick? The one you’d watched fall into the lake when you were twelve?

Or maybe it was the popcorn Gina had brought in for the both of you to enjoy as a late Halloween snack. Yes, maybe that.

“It’s butter,” she says, following the wafty scent of popcorn into the living room. “No salt. Sorry. Mick’s trainer’s been on him about dieting.”

“Mmm, I heard,” you say, stuffing a fistful of the snack into your mouth. “You’d think he’s dancing ballet or something.”

“You two just looove talking about me like I’m not here,” pipes up Mick, clicking his tongue. Gina laughs, apologizes in German, and then makes up some excuse to leave you two alone.

Freddy Krueger is just about to kill an unsuspecting dreamer when you and Mick seek popcorn at the same time, and your fingers brush against each other in the sea of butter. You jolt immediately, a reaction as instinctive as it is foreign.

“Thought you were on a diet,” you tease lowly, snatching the bowl away.

So maybe that was it. And that was that. Except it really, really, wasn’t.

—

“Code red,” pants Mick breathlessly into the phone, “Red. I’m on my way to your hotel room.”

You and Mick share an emergency code system, modeled after any other, and used in cases where one needs the other’s help badly. There’s code blue (no fare for the bus/train, no gas money), code green (need to ditch this date, no ride home), code orange (creep is following me, fan has been stalking me), and code red, which covers about anything urgent.

Granted, you both created the system at thirteen, but is anyone really complaining when it’s being used at 23?

It also means code red is never used by either of you, reserved for dire situations. Like now. Your door is pushed open and Mick emerges, sweaty and fussed. “I need,” he says, breathless, “um, a—” But he whispers the last word quietly.

“Sorry. What?!”

“A, you know—” he does it again, scandalized.

“Mick, what do you need?”

“I can’t find a private enough space for me to buy a pack,” he says conspiratorially, “of condoms.”

Your chest caves in. “Oh. Why?”

“Eva asked me out.”

“Huh. Eva, Eva?” You dig through your bag. “Paddock engineer’s sister Eva?”

“Yes. Cool?”

“Yeah, yeah. Yeah,” you say, tossing him a rubber and walking closer. “But you look a mess, Mick.”

“Right. Fix me up, would you?” He smiles, raising his arms up.. “Code green.”

“You’re using up all your codes,” you mutter, pinching the hem of his tee and tugging at it to fix the wrinkles on the bottom. Then you move upward, to the collar of his polo, smile and tease him a bit to get his wound-up nerves loosened up a little more. “Good luck.”

You accidentally fiddle with a button the same time he does, and your fingers stick to each other. Your breath catches a little, but it’s nothing, you tell yourself, avoiding the grip. It’s quiet, your eyes both evading the other’s, your hand scratching absently at your jaw.

“I should—I should go.”

“No, right, yeah.” You clear your throat, nodding and shooing him away. GOOD LUCK VIRGIN BOY you text him when he’s gone, to alleviate the tension.

Went pretty well! :) He texts back two hours later.

“You sure you’re not up for a date?” Eva asks disappointedly across him.

“Sorry. My mind’s elsewhere,” he says. And that’s that. Except it’s really, really, not.

—

“You two used to dance a lot. Michael and I had a tape of your and Mick’s favorite songs.”

“Gina told me,” you giggle, reviewing a photo album with Corinna. “God, it’s crazy. I can’t even imagine Mick dancing now.”

Of course the declaration leads to Gina finding an old tape player in the stockroom and playing it for everyone to hear, so Mick can put on a show of lanky limbs and awkward dance moves for you, his sister, and his mom. It’s awfully endearing, sickening the way he manages to look cute even while botching the dance.

You and Gina join eventually, to appease Corinna’s pleas. In between one scratchy song and another, you both lose yourself in the music and your fingers almost tangle.

You flex your pinky when it almost locks on his. Sorry, he whispers, low in your ear. Your stomach erupts with thrill and excitement. Your mind’s focused on the rough pad of his finger, the whispered rough apology you haven’t quite accepted.

You hug Gina instead, dancing with her, and that should be that. Except it really, really, isn’t.

—

“If you keep moving it’ll look ugly.” You readjust your grip on Mick’s pinky, painting an angry red on the nail there as a totem of good luck for the race weekend. You take the chance to do it when you can, the tradition started in Formula 3—paint the pinky nail red.

“You’re taking forever.”

“Fine, good luck DNF-ing again on Sunday.”

You poke your tongue out in a fit of concentration and finally finish dotting over the tiny mistakes. Your eyes glide up, and then stop where Mick’s already meet yours behind a blond curtain of damp post-shower hair.

What? You ask, mind clouded it feels like your voice is disembodied. His gaze is so intense, all blues and soft edges and a smile that reaches his eyes.

You do know the nail lacquer is just placebo, right? I have another good luck charm, and that one actually works.

No it isn’t, and no you don’t, and whatever the charm is—no, it doesn’t.

Except it really, really, does.

—

The fine line between friends and whatever lies behind it—when is it crossed?

How many times will your fingers brush in a chaste dance? Your eyes flit down to lips, chapped or smooth, like it’s water in the desert? How many times will Mick dance, even if he hates to dance, because he likes the nearness of it? He wakes from dreams of you. He wakes waiting to text you.

It may have been doubtful before, but now it’s anything but: he’s in love with you. And love is dizzying, it’s blurry and miraculous and could cloud even Einstein’s brain, but Mick at least knows the answer to one of his many questions.

Four. Four brushes of your knuckles.

“Hey. Code red,” he says into the phone, walking to the lobby elevator.

Seriously, again? What is it this time?

“Just open the door when I get there,” he says, smilingly. “You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.”

#f1 #mick schumacher #leclsrc2000 #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher smut #f1 x reader

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 4 months

Note

Hi! I would fling myself off the roof for:

Number 3: "I want to taste you so badly."

And/Or

Number 8: “Kiss me, I can't wait any longer."

Please! 🙏🏻

P.S. You’re one of my favorite writers and you do horny so damn well. So uhhh…thank you and please never stop! 😊

"I want to taste you so badly." additional tags: lovey dovey shit, petnames, drunk horny ian, public sex, they're tucked away in a hedge maze but the risk is still there, this got long somehow oops you can find a fill for #8 here :)

It’s Debbie’s wedding day. And as Mickey stands in this restored historical property that she and her bride somehow managed to score, he’s gotta give props where props are due.

This shit is fully realized. Fairytale but classy. Dreamy lights strung over stone facade. Fresh, color-coordinated bouquets in the middle of every linen-draped table.

Damn.

He apologizes - he was not familiar with her game.

Now that the ceremony and dinner are over, he’s got a lot of time to sniff everything out and appreciate it. Lots more elbow room, what with his husband off on the dance floor with his family, celebrating their first wedding that’s finally gone off without a hitch. A historical moment.

“We really gotta show up for her, Mick,” Ian had started saying at the mere whisper of a wedding date. “Make moves. After everything she did for ours.”

And even after his tease, “Alright, you put on the dress - I’ll start bawlin’ my fuckin’ eyes out,” Mickey had agreed. Of course.

And now they’re here. Everything’s come together with a lot of elbow grease and a little light florist-threatening where it may or may not have been needed. (It was. Debbie was more than fine with it.) Everything’s going according to plan, and that includes his husband’s drunk little shimmy over to him, Mickey clearly in his sights even before the music transitions into something slow and romantic.

The song change has something flashing in Ian’s posture, like he’s delighted by the fate of it all as he reaches his hand out for him, still a few good feet away.

Goofball.

Mickey has no choice but to give in, endeared as all fuck as he helps close the distance and is immediately wrapped up in drunk husband. Flushed skin… Nice cologne… Those big hands slip under his suit jacket and fully wrap around him. Pull him in close. “Hey there, handsy…”

“I love you,” Ian murmurs into his neck, in a way of greeting. Sappy motherfucker. “Love the fuck outta you, Mick…”

Mickey allows it. Fuck anyone who’s got something to say - it’s not his fault they’re like this. He is gonna make fun of him a little, though. “Uh huh. Love you too, ya lightweight.”

His own drink sloshes up the side of his glass - high enough to envision the table’s bouquet getting a whiskey bath.

Yeah, he’ll just set this down real quick.

“Havin’ fun, huh…” He’s seen it with his own eyes. Has been enjoying it, actually, watching Ian tear up the dance floor and be stupid with the rest of the Gallaghers. “Gettin’ all sweaty…”

Ian hums, unbothered by this as he leans down to rest their foreheads together. “Could get sweatier…”

“That right?”

“Saw a room in the back…” He nudges his nose along Mickey’s. Brushes their lips together in suggestion as they fall into the slow, swaying rhythm of the love song playing overhead. “Getchya outta this suit…”

It’s a good idea, obviously. Mickey fucking loves this idea. But, “Told me to keep ya on a tight leash tonight,” he teases. “No funny business ‘til we’re back at the hotel. Remember any of that?” To further his point, he reaches behind himself, dragging those wandering hands back up as they start to drift downward under his jacket.

His response goes about as well as he imagined it would when Ian had proposed it this morning. “Who said that.”

“You, darlin’.”

“Mm. Mm-mm…” he denies, his hands beginning to creep back down the small of his back in spite of it all. “Not me…”

Mickey huffs out a laugh. Allows the touch just a little longer, but then corrects him again, before too much of this very good idea becomes a possibility. “Hang onto that, stud.” For later. Much later. When the song isn’t changing to something uptempo and just screaming for Ian to participate. “Go help Lip - poor bastard just pulled somethin’, looks like.”

With a great big inhale, Ian makes his displeasure known. “Come with.”

But, “Will in a bit,” Mickey counters. “Wanna check out back.”

“Out back…”

“Heard they got a statue of some naked dude out there.”

He can feel the smirk of suggestion that’s starting to creep across those lips. “Oh…?”

Gotta stop him before he starts up again. Distract him - ease back so he can look right into those heavy-lidded eyes while he sets the plan. “I’ll check it out - let ya know… Meet ya for another slow one soon…”

This seems to strike a chord in Ian’s wine-soaked brain. The deal of the century. And as if fate is reaching out its hand again, the music switches over to a song that’s got the inner circle shouting for Ian on the dancefloor.

“Go,” Mickey insists, kisses him back when Ian plants a quick one on his lips.

“Fine.”

Another kiss. “Okay bye.”

“Bye.”

“Love you.”

“Love ya.” One more.

And then he’s high-tailing it back into the crowd, leaving Mickey to watch after him with a fond shake of his head.

He picks his drink back up. Takes a sip, indulging in just a few more moments.

Damn, he loves that motherfucker.

_ _ _

It’s not that Mickey wants to deny his man - especially not when he’s all drunk and horny and love-struck like this - he’s only doing it because Ian asked him to. You know, before getting sloppy off pinot noir.

He’s in good hands in the dance circle, though. His opportunities to act up drop astronomically without his better half being there to touch up on.

And all marble dick jokes aside, Mickey does actually wanna snoop around outside. So that’s how he finds himself here, a good unknown amount of time later, posted up at the edge of the garden’s miniature hedge maze.

He hears someone call it a labyrinth in passing, but it’s a fucking hedge maze. Labyrinths are supposed to have monsters and shit in them, aren’t they? Debbie probably woulda had to pay extra for that.

Mickey pushes it from his mind and takes another drag of his cigarette, watching the smoke drift up into the stars. It’s a clear night. Perfect weather. Real quiet out here too, most of the celebration locked away in the estate.

It’s why he can hear the steps coming up behind him so easily, the stride and weight of them already getting his chest to swell with pleasant, familiar anticipation.

It only grows when he turns around - when he’s met with Ian’s playful little grin as he stops in front of Mickey not to kiss him like he expects, but to pluck the cigarette from his lips, without a word, before making his way to the labyrinth’s entrance a few feet away.

Mickey watches after him. Feels that pleasant anticipation curl into something curious as Ian takes a drag, flicks playful arch of his eyebrow Mickey’s way, and then slips through the opening in the hedgeline.

An invitation to play.

Oh, fuck yeah.

Mickey pushes forward, eager to not let Ian get too much of a lead on him. As soon as he steps into the maze, though, it becomes clear that won’t matter at all.

Because right away, he’s forced to make a decision between left and right, with no signs of which way Ian just chose.

Alright then, left it is.

“Ay,” he calls out, just on the off chance he’ll get a response. Shit’s twisty-turny in here. Tall, perfectly trimmed hedges that have gone dark green in the shadows stretch out before him. “Red…”

Of course Ian doesn’t answer.

He turns again. More choices. Right this time. “Gonna make me call a search party for your drunk ass…” he calls, only half kidding.

Another choice - straight, left, or right.

The stomped out cigarette keeps him on track - straight ahead - pulse beginning to quicken with his steps.

Because this is fun, but he doesn’t know how long it’s gonna stay fun. Doesn’t know exactly how many more blind turns he’s got in him before things start to get a little too real.

“Ian…” One more choice - he’s decided. One more turn and then if he’s not right in front of his husband he’s gonna make it everyone else’s problem. “Ian, if you don’t-...”

The rest evaporates into thin air as Mickey’s steps gradually fall off, all his determination leading him through the corridor and into a hidden resting place tucked in the middle of the labyrinth. It’s small - moonlit and flanked on all sides by the tall hedges. And in the middle…

Holy shit, there it is.

Mickey takes a careful step forward. Takes in the statue erected in the middle of the clearing - all the dips and curves of the pose - how he lounges back on one hand, the other raised to the crown of leaves around his head.

It’s weirdly profound.

Strangely breath-taking.

Gets Mickey so caught up in the moment of it all that he doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it’s too late - until he feels the hand wrap around his arm and tug, gently pulling him around until he’s come face to face with the man he’s been searching for.

His mouth falls open and Ian helps himself without a word, pinot noir and hunger on his tongue. Mickey laps it up. Lets himself be eaten alive, heat rushing into his chest and his face and his-

Ian lets out a tasty little breath as Mickey shoves him away, light and playful with it, but still hard enough to get a few steps between them - room to breathe and size each other up.

And fuck, he looks like something out a movie.

The shrubbery walls are tall, but the two of them are out of shadow’s reach, silver moonlight settling over Ian’s flushed face…his kissed, parted lips…how a couple bangs have fallen over his forehead…

Somewhere between the dance floor and here, he’s gotten his tie undone completely - has left it hanging and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, his suit jacket just begging to get pushed off his shoulders right where he stands.

Holy fuck.

If this is what labyrinth monsters look like, Mickey might not mind getting lost.

“You lookin’ for me…?” Ian smirks, and it’s crazy how something so normal can sound so slutty when he’s panting like that.

Now is the time for Mickey to stop this. Now is the time for Mickey to remind him that they’re supposed to be behaving until the wedding is over.

“C’mere,” he says instead, already rushing forward - already wetting his lips and parting them so Ian can lick right into his mouth again.

It’s sloppy. Handsy. Ian is drunk and horny and love-struck and it’s too hot to deny anymore. It was never gonna happen anyway.

Dewy grass gets trampled under their dress shoes as Ian walks them backward without breaking off. Mickey can’t see but he trusts him - even like this - anticipates the sturdy marble before his lower back even slots against it. And then he’s trapped, blissfully, between the infamous naked statue and his husband’s crowding warmth.

“Fuck, Mick…” Ian breathes out. His fingers work at the knot in Mickey’s tie so he can loosen it - pop open the first two buttons of his shirt - tuck his fingers into the edge of his collar and then pull, burying his face into the newly exposed side of his neck.

It’s got Mickey lighting up, all the way from the tips of his toes. Of course he goes right for his weak spots. “Jesus Christ…” This statue better be good at keeping secrets.

Because Ian’s mouth is running, words and lips pouring over Mickey’s skin, “Need you, baby…” up and up and brushing over his ear, “Wanna taste you so bad…”

A shudder works up Mickey’s spine, even as he hears himself say it. “What, here?”

“Here.”

“Now?”

“Now.” His warm palm cups Mickey’s cock over his pants and starts rubbing just to prove it. “Right now. In here. Lemme taste you - I don’t wanna wait anymore…”

And Christ, he’s supposed to say no to that?

No fucking way.

Mickey reaches down for his belt, undeniably hard where Ian continues to give him attention. “Quick,” he insists, though. “People been goin’ in and out all night.”

That doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be a problem for Ian. He’s already getting on his knees - fucking up his slacks with wet grass stains - helping Mickey get his belt open and pants down just enough and fuck…

“Fuck…”

Fuck…Ian’s licking him up and swallowing him down right away, getting him good and sloppy like it’s the only thing he wants to concentrate on right now. His drunk ass really has been craving this.

Mickey lets his head tip back into the moonlight. Lets out a bitten groan from the tight, wet heat working up and down his cock. Feels his breath quicken as those fingers slip through the spit that’s dripped down to his balls, and then slide further back to start circling over his hole.

“Oh fuck,” he huffs out, his laugh breathy and surprised. “Fuckin’-...Jesus, Ian…you horny bitch…”

It’s affectionate, of course. They both know it. If anything, it just makes Ian lean into it harder, something low rumbling in his chest before he draws his hand back to spit in it - loudly - and then goes back to playing with his hole.

Yeah, he’s definitely a monster.

But he is quick, Mickey will give him that. They’re moving fast, the combination of time and Ian’s drunk, hungry mouth making things sloppy in a way they haven’t really been since they were teenagers.

This is so much better though. Obviously. This is fucking perfect, nasty in that shameless way. That ‘you’re my husband and I think you’re so fucking hot and I’m gonna do whatever I fucking want to you because I know you’re just as into it’ way. Jesus, if his teenage self could see them now-

The sudden redirection has Mickey spinning - literally - gets him facing the statue, his arms coming to hold himself up in its lap as Ian tugs him backwards ass-first and-

“Jeeeesus…” Mickey’s eyes roll shut in pure, utter pleasure, reaching to hold himself up by the crook of the statue’s elbow as Ian’s tongue starts lapping over his hole like he’s got no time to lose.

They don’t, really.

Realistically. No matter how time is going in and out in this fucked up little maze.

Anyone could make a turn at any of the four hedge breaks and walk right into this - Mickey, bent over in some naked statue’s lap, his ass completely out and being absolutely devoured by his husband while three fingers deep.

Another shudder runs down his spine, his toes curling in his shoes.

Wait a minute, is that hot?

Fuck, he’s getting close.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Mickey finally gets his hand squeezed into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, freeing the things he’s hidden there just for this.

He gets the corner of the gold packaging between his teeth and then tears, carefully, only spitting the extra bit onto the ground once he’s turned over his shoulder and held the rubber within reaching distance.

It’s got Ian coming back to Earth a little bit.

Has him pulling away, his mouth and chin glistening in the moonlight as he blinks owlishly at the condom, then looks up at Mickey, then back down to the condom again, processing with heavy breath and stilled fingers.

Mickey can already hear the shit he’s gonna get for this later. All sorts of mess about how he said he’d keep Ian at bay but then brought condoms and lube anyway - in his fucking jacket no less.

“Okay, but I was right to. Was I fuckin’ not?” he defends himself.

And Ian has absolutely nothing to say to that right now - he couldn’t possibly - instead he focuses on the task of wiping his face while standing and getting his pants open and grabbing the condom Mickey undid for him, unrolling it on himself as quickly as possible.

It’s all while Mickey gets the packet of lube torn open and put to work. Because suddenly time is very real to him. It’s slamming forward, the crickets seeming louder than ever but holy fuck, is he turned on. He might want this shit even more than the one who’s been slobbering after it all night.

So he hangs on, literally, going back to grabbing at the crook of the statue’s elbow as Ian slicks up the condom and then presses forward, sinking inside him perfectly.

Fuck yes…

“Oh god, baby…” he breathes out, and it’s shaky and right in Mickey’s ear - right where it sends tingles down his whole body.

Mickey bites down over his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring as Ian starts to fuck him against the statue. It’s just like everything else tonight. Good and greedy and sloppy, wine slurring the usual rhythm of his hips, but it doesn’t matter one fucking bit when they’re both this turned on.

It also means it’s gonna boil over quickly, both of them just a little too desperate to hold anything off. And that’s okay too. Mickey’s here for the ride no matter how it goes - how quick and fumbly and messy it is. Sometimes it’s more fun that way anyway.

This is one of those times. This is Mickey falling forward into the statue’s lap again, reaching blindly above him for Ian, who swoops in to press his lips to the side of his neck, words slurring and heated and sexy.

Mickey gets his hand in the top of his hair and he knows he’s fucking it all up - the gel is getting all over his fingers - but that doesn’t matter right now because the new angle’s got Ian’s cock rubbing up just right inside him, pleasure pooling and curling in his belly and drawing everything to a steamy, delicious boil.

“...m'gonna cum,” Ian moans and it’s one of the most romantic things they’ve ever done, Mickey thinks - fucking in this garden labyrinth - coming together under the stars and the watchful eye of some beautiful, fucked up little statue.

It’s definitely up there, at least. And Mickey’s not gonna factor in that he’s got marble cock and balls in his face as he starts to catch his post-orgasm breath.

From where he’s slumped on top of him, Ian buries his face right back into Mickey’s neck, his declaration winded and endearing. “Fuck… Love you so fuckin’ much Mick, oh my god…”

It’s enough to have Mickey buzzing - aftershocks and true, sometimes disgustingly obvious adoration.

“Love ya too,” he breathes out. Then, “Kinda wanna put my ass away though…”

A giggle tickles at his neck, Ian clearly entertained by his request. “Gonna come dance with me…?”

God… “Uh huh…”

It’s all he needs to say for the great weight atop his upper half to release, Ian finally granting them both enough room to pull up their pants.

They straighten themselves up with coy little grins at each other. While Ian re-ties his tie for him, Mickey tries to slick all that red hair back into something not obviously post-fuck.

And this might actually be the most romantic thing they’ve ever done, he decides instead. Even when they both finally declare each other ready for the dance floor, but find themselves lingering at the different openings in the hedges.

Because wait…

“Fuck…” Mickey realizes. “How the hell do we get outta here?”

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#thank you for gassing me up hehe #gallavich #ray writes #smutty one-liners

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