#and learn and keep track of the cheats

[edwardsparkleblood]

I don't wanna bully Wizard reddit too hard but it's funny to me how they are still complaining about the emotion fights in Wallaru and some are even waiting to continue when a patch drops, like yes they're difficult but Wizard tumblr didn't care, Wizard tumblr fought through blood, sweat, and rain because they were NOT about to let Dasein suffer alone

[dark-fics-4-you]

Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???

How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting

Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.

The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.

He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”

At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.

“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”

“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.

Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.

His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.

Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you

When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.

Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”

That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.

You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.

Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.

After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.

Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.

You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.

Except for the one time you really needed to.

After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.

As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.

“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.

You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”

His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”

You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.

“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.

When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.

“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”

You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”

His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.

“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”

Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.

“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.

Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.

His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.

You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.

“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.

You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.

Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.

He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.

You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.

His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.

“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”

He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.

“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.

The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.

He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.

When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.

“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”

That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.

He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.

Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.

You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.

Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”

‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.

The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.

A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.

If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.

Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.

‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’

You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.

To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.

You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.

Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.

“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.

You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.

Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”

If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.

Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.

You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.

“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.

“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”

[pucksandpower]

Another Man’s Treasure

Max Verstappen x Reader + Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Charles made the worst mistake of his life when he threw away his relationship with you. Max … well he’s learned to take advantage of others’ mistakes both on and off the track

Warnings: cheating (not the main pairing) and pregnancy

“Please, Charles, why can’t we just talk about it?” you implore, the two of you standing on the balcony overlooking the glimmering lights of Monaco. The city shines brilliantly but your eyes are clouded with frustration and disappointment.

Charles exhales deeply, his jaw clenched as he avoids your gaze. The silver lining of the night —the glimmer of stars overhead — contrasts sharply with the tension between you two. “I told you already, it’s not the right time.

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “Every time I bring up having children, you just push it away. Why can’t you see how much this means to me?”

Charles runs his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to have a family with you someday,” he begins, his gaze distant. “But right now, with my career at its peak, I can’t risk distractions.”

“Distractions?” Your voice breaks, the hurt evident in your tone. “Our children would be a distraction?”

He flinches, clearly not expecting that response. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I need to focus on the championship. The pressure is immense. Racing is my life. Ferrari is my life.”

“I understand your dedication to your career, but ...” You pause, your gaze searching his. “Don’t you think we can find a balance? Am I not part of your life too?”

He looks at you, those hypnotizing eyes you’ve always loved flinching away from yours after no more than a second. “I wish I knew how,” he murmurs. “But every time I think of the late nights, the early mornings, the endless travels ... I’m afraid I won’t be there for our children.”

You reach out, holding his face in your hands. “We can figure it out together. But not if you keep shutting me out.”

Charles leans into your touch for a brief moment, his warmth radiating under your fingers. But then he pulls away, taking a deep breath. “I just need time,” he whispers.

“You always say that,” you reply, voice almost inaudible. The weight of the situation presses down on you both. The future, once so clear and bright, is now clouded in uncertainty.

But one thing is clear to you. You love Charles Leclerc. Despite the pain, the hurt, and the disagreements, you still believe that one day, you’ll both find common ground. So, you nod, taking his hand. “Alright, I’ll give you time. But please, don’t take too long.”

He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

But deep inside, a gnawing feeling of dread starts to grow, leaving you wondering if you’ve made the right choice.

***

The soft hum of the espresso machine at your favorite café in Monaco is the only thing that brings comfort these days. You take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the momentary solace as you sip on your coffee. But today, the calm is quickly disrupted by the muted buzz of your phone.

An unknown number flashes across the screen. Hesitating for only a moment, you decide to pick up. “Hello?”

A hesitant voice responds, “Is this ... is this you? I’ve seen you with Charles.”

Confused and on guard, you ask, “Who is this?”

The voice falters, “It’s Elise.”

You wrack your brain, trying to figure out who she might be. But before you can respond, Elise continues, “I think we need to meet. There’s something you should know.”

Agreeing to meet up, you find yourself waiting at the edge of the Fontvieille Park, the minutes feeling like hours as you try to decipher what could be so important.

Elise finally arrives, her demeanor nervous, eyes darting around. She’s visibly pregnant.

“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” she begins, looking down at her swollen belly, then up to your eyes, searching for understanding. “This is Charles’ child.”

The world seems to spin, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What? How? Why?” The questions blur together, each one as painful as the last.

Elise sighs, taking a moment before she speaks, “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I thought he loved me ... but then I found out about you.”

You’re at a loss for words, feeling a mix of betrayal, anger, and pain more complex than you can describe. The very foundation of your relationship with Charles feels like it’s crumbling beneath you. “He said he wasn’t ready for children,” you whisper, more to yourself than to Elise.

Elise looks genuinely pained. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve never—” she stops herself, tears forming. “I’m so sorry. I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur. Elise shares her story, and you listen, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Charles she describes isn’t the man you thought you knew.

By the time you part ways, the Monaco sunset paints the sky in shades of gold and purple. But its beauty does little to lift the darkness that has settled over your heart. Charles had been unfaithful, and now a child — a constant reminder of his betrayal — was on the way.

***

With every step you take towards the apartment you share with Charles, your emotions churn and crash like tumultuous waves. You have practiced the confrontation in your mind countless times, yet as you reach the door, your hands tremble. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you push it open.

Inside, Charles looks up from the couch, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he starts, attempting a smile but his eyes give away a hint of nervousness. Perhaps he senses the storm brewing.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

Charles swallows hard, pushing himself up to stand. “About?”

“Elise,” you state simply, watching as his face pales.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you hope for an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret. But when he speaks, his words are cold and detached. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” You shoot back, trying to hold back tears. “Is it true?”

Charles avoids your gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he finally admits.

“And the baby? Is it yours?”

Again, he hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”

The weight of the revelation feels like a physical blow, and you stagger back slightly, gripping the back of a chair for support. “All those times … when you said you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time …” Your voice cracks, pain and betrayal evident in every word.

Charles finally meets your gaze but there’s no warmth, no apology in his eyes. “I didn’t plan this,” he says but it’s not a justification, merely a statement.

“That’s supposed to make it better?” you scoff, voice rising in disbelief.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you recognize as one of discomfort. “I never wanted to hurt you. But things just ... happened.”

“You think that justifies anything? Things just happened?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I gave up so much for us, Charles. I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to be with you. And you threw it all away like it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but his apology feels hollow. His eyes betray the truth.

The room is thick with tension and heartbreak. The man you loved, the life you envisioned — both seem like illusions now. You didn’t even know if they were ever real.

“You know what?” You say, a new determination rising within. “I deserve better. I deserve someone who truly values and respects me.” With that, you turn, making your way to the bedroom to pack a few essentials.

Charles doesn’t stop you. And that, more than anything, cements the truth. Your future lies elsewhere. The chapter with Charles is closed.

***

Rain begins to drizzle over Monaco, each droplet reflecting the city’s luminescence. With a bag slung over your shoulder and a broken heart, you wander aimlessly. The streets that once felt like home now seem foreign and cold.

As the rain intensifies, you duck under an awning, the gentle hum of a nearby bar providing a temporary reprieve. You’re lost in thought when a familiar voice breaks through, “Is everything okay? You look a bit ... lost.”

You look up, surprised to find Max Verstappen looking genuinely concerned. His bright blue eyes study your face, searching for an answer.

“Max ...” Your voice trails off, unsure of how much to reveal.

He gestures to the bar beside you. “Want to come in? We can talk or not. Up to you.”

Gratefully, you nod, and the two of you find a quiet corner. The dim lighting offers a cocoon of privacy, away from prying eyes.

Over a glass of wine, words start to tumble out. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty of the future. Max listens intently, his gaze never leaving yours. His silence offers a comforting presence, allowing you to unburden your heavy heart.

“I can’t believe Charles would do that to you,” Max says after you finish your story, his voice laced with anger. “You deserve so much better.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I thought we had something special. But I guess I was just naive. And stupid. So stupid.”

Max reaches out, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “No. He was the fool for not seeing what a treasure he had.”

The evening wears on and you find solace in Max’s company. The conversation shifts from heartbreak to hopes and dreams. He opens up about his childhood, the pressures of racing, and his aspirations for a family — one where he could offer his children a better upbringing than he had.

The connection between you two grows, the raw vulnerability drawing you closer than you could have ever anticipated over just a few hours.

“It’s getting late,” Max observes, glancing at his watch. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

You hesitate, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I ... I hadn’t planned anything.”

Max looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “I have a penthouse not far from here. You’re more than welcome to stay. No expectations, just a place to rest.”

Gratitude swells within you. “Thank you, Max. I really appreciate that.”

The two of you leave the bar together, the rain now a soft drizzle. As you make your way to his place, the weight of the day begins to lift, replaced by an unexpected feeling of hope. You couldn’t have predicted this turn of events but perhaps, just maybe, the universe has a plan for you.

***

The penthouse apartment is a sanctuary, perched high above the city’s twinkling lights. The soft glow of lamps bathes the room in warmth, contrasting with the coolness of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer an unobstructed view of Monaco’s beauty.

Max hands you a plush robe and gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to freshen up. I’ll make us some tea.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding and hospitality. The hot shower washes away the day’s troubles, and when you emerge, wrapped in the robe, you find Max in the sleek kitchen area, preparing mugs of tea.

“Here you go,” he says, handing you a steaming cup. “Chamomile. Good for relaxation.”

You take a sip, the warm liquid soothing your frayed nerves. “Thank you, Max. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”

He smiles gently, his eyes meeting yours. “Sometimes, unexpected moments bring people together for a reason.”

The two of you settle onto a surprisingly comfortable leather couch, gazing out at the night sky. Silence envelops you but it’s a comfortable one.

“You know, I never expected to connect with someone like this,” Max says, his voice soft. “Especially not after what you’ve been through.”

You look at him, seeing a depth of sincerity that surprises you. “It’s been a strange and difficult day,” you admit. “But talking to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

Max’s gaze holds yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has conspired to bring you to this very place, to this very person.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. A loving home, something I didn’t really have growing up. I want to give my kids the stability and happiness I never had.”

Tears well up in your eyes, touched by his vulnerability and his willingness to share his dreams with you. “That’s a beautiful aspiration.”

He shifts closer, a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And what about you? What do you dream of?”

You lean back, contemplating the question. “I dream of a family too, a partner who’s truly invested, children who grow up knowing they’re loved and supported.”

Max's fingers brush against yours, a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve that. You deserve to find happiness.”

As the night deepens, the emotional intimacy between you grows. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared connection, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. The chapter with Charles might be closed, but perhaps, with Max, you can start to write a new one — one filled with shared dreams and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow over Monaco as it begins its ascent into the azure sky. You wake up, wrapped in the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, with memories of last night’s conversation playing on a loop in your mind.

Exiting the bedroom, you find Max in the open-plan kitchen, whipping up a breakfast spread. “Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

As you eat, Max discusses his plans for the day, mentioning an upcoming summer break in the F1 calendar. “A few friends and I have organized a yacht trip during the summer shutdown. It’s a tradition,” he explains. “A way to escape and recharge.”

You nod, picturing the glittering sea and warm beaches. “That sounds wonderful.”

He hesitates for a moment, then, as if taking a leap, says, “Why don’t you join us? It could be a good distraction. Get away from all this ... chaos.”

The offer catches you by surprise. The prospect of a holiday is tempting, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. Plus, the idea of spending more time with Max, getting to know him outside the confines of Monaco, is equally appealing.

After a moment’s contemplation, you reply, “You know what? I think I will. Thank you so much.”

The days leading up to the trip are a blur, filled with shopping for swimsuits and sundresses and a growing sense of anticipation.

When the day finally arrives, you find yourself aboard a lavish yacht, surrounded by Max’s close friends. Laughter and conversations flow easily, the crystal-clear waters providing the perfect backdrop.

As the yacht sets sail, you and Max find a secluded spot on the deck. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you talk, laugh, and occasionally, just sit in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment.

During a sun-soaked afternoon, Max teaches you how to steer the yacht. Your fingers brush against each other, and there are shared glances, stolen moments, and an electric charge between you that’s impossible to ignore.

Each day deepens the growing bond between you. There are sunrises watched from the deck, dinners under the stars, and long conversations that last into the early hours of the morning.

One night, as the yacht anchors near a secluded cove, Max takes your hand, leading you to a quiet spot. The moonlight dances on the water, creating a magical atmosphere.

“You know,” he begins, his voice soft, “this trip has been special. Not because of the destinations but because of the company.”

You smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t agree more.”

A tender moment passes between you, one filled with promise and the potential for something more. The yacht trip might be coming to an end but both of you sense that this journey, this new chapter in your lives, has only just begun.

***

The gentle lull of the waves against the yacht rocks you as the moon hangs low in the sky. The night air is warm and fragrant, carrying with it a sense of peace. Tomorrow, the yacht will dock back in Monaco and reality will catch up with you once more. But for now, you’re content to savor these final moments of the trip.

You find Max leaning against the railing, gazing out at the sea. As you approach him, he turns, his expression softening into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, standing beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other.

“I can’t believe the break is almost over,” Max muses, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.

You nod in agreement, casting your gaze out to the horizon. “It still feels like a dream.”

Max glances at you, his eyes holding a certain intensity. “You know, I’ve had an amazing time with you.”

A flutter of warmth ignites in your chest at his words. “Me too. The best time.”

The moment is charged with unspoken feelings, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing day. Max’s fingers brush against yours and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t want this to end,” he confesses, gaze never leaving yours.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, so understood.”

He cups your cheek with his hand, his touch tender and affectionate. “I feel the same way. And I don’t want this to end.”

The tension in the air is palpable, heavy with anticipation and longing. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the emotions that have been building between you, a kiss that bridges the gap between friendship and something more.

As the kiss deepens, Max’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths mingling. Max’s voice is a gentle murmur against your lips. “I don’t want to rush anything. But I also don’t want to pretend that this connection we have isn’t real.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the same sincerity. “I don’t want to pretend either. Max, I want to give this — give us — a chance.”

A genuine smile graces Max’s lips and he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”

***

“Where to now?” Max asks, his hand lightly touching your arm as the yacht crew busies themselves with docking procedures.

You hesitate, the reality of your situation setting in. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I … I moved here from my home country to be with Charles.”

Max looks concerned. “You can’t stay with him, not after everything.”

“No, definitely not.” You exhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe find a hotel for a few days.”

Before you can say more, Max interjects, “Stay with me.”

You look at him, a bit taken aback. “Are you sure? We’re still navigating whatever this is between us.”

He nods, his gaze steady and sincere. “I know. But I also know you shouldn’t be alone right now. You can take the guest room or,” he pauses, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “the master bedroom, if you prefer.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his teasing tone but his offer feels genuine. “Alright but only if you promise not to snore.”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off the yacht. “Deal.”

The familiarity of Max’s penthouse greets you as you step inside. It's comforting and safe, an oasis to escape the shattered memories that line the Monaco streets.

While you unpack, Max makes dinner. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a soft glow through the apartment.

“Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing around the dining room, the food, the moment. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.”

Max meets your gaze, his blue eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

The night unfolds, a sense of peace settling between you. Whether it's the soft hum of the city below or the comforting presence of Max beside you, you drift into a deep, restful sleep.

Waking up the next morning, the events of the past weeks feel like a distant memory. But the man beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, is a calming reminder of new beginnings.

With Max by your side, you feel ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that no matter what, you’re not alone.

***

“Are you ready for the madness?” Max asks, offering you a hand as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd at Zandvoort Circuit immediately evident.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the paddock, drawing attention from fans, crew, and media alike. Whispers spread like wildfire but neither of you flinch. Together, you are a united front.

Suddenly, Charles appears from around the corner, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. “So this is the big reveal?” he asks, dripping with condensing sarcasm.

Max steps protectively in front of you. “It’s none of your business anymore.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes darting to the Red Bull VIP pass around your neck. “Jumping ship already? You always were fickle.”

Ignoring the jab, you retort, “You lost any right to an opinion about my life the second you threw away our relationship.”

Charles’ eyes flare with anger. “And you,” he snaps, turning his attention to the reigning world champion, “you think you can just swoop in—”

Max cuts him off sharply, “I think you’ve said enough.”

“You two deserve each other,” Charles hisses before storming off.

Max wraps an arm around you, his touch reassuring. “Ignore him. Today is about the race, about us. Nothing else.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The race itself is thrilling. From Red Bull garage, you watch as Max masterfully maneuvers his car, leading the pack with unparalleled skill. Every turn, every overtake steals your breath. And when he crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd painting the grandstands orange is deafening.

As Max emerges from his car, he’s immediately surrounded by his team, celebrating yet another victory. And then, spotting you in the crowd, he breaks away, making a beeline towards you. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. As you pull apart, Max’s eyes shine with triumph and love. “For you,” he murmurs, holding up the trophy.

Laughing, you pull him close once more. The challenges and confrontations of the day pale in comparison to the joy of this moment. Together, you and Max are unstoppable. And as you celebrate his victory, you know that this is just the beginning of many more triumphant moments to come.

***

The familiar sounds of roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the vibrant energy of the paddock have been a part of your life for years. But being around the Red Bull team feels like a different world compared to your previous experiences with Ferrari.

Christian Horner welcomes you with open arms. “It’s great to have you on board,” he says during a quiet moment in the Red Bull motorhome. “Max seems happier than he’s been in a long time.”

You smile, thinking of the nights spent laughing with Max, the whispered conversations, and reflected dreams. “I’m grateful to be here. And to be with Max.”

Helmut Marko, although initially intimidating with his sharp gaze, soon warms up to you. “Just take care of our champ,” he jokes one evening after another successful race.

As the weeks pass, the bond between you and the Red Bull team strengthens. Daniel Ricciardo becomes a close friend, often joining you and Max for dinner or movie nights. Sergio Perez, with his playful humor, keeps everyone laughing, while the mechanics and engineers teach you the deeper intricacies of the sport.

Yet, it’s not all smooth sailing. The media, always hungry for a story, constantly probes into your relationship with Max. Rumors swirl, some true, most fabricated. Yet, through it all, Max remains your anchor, always supporting and defending you.

One evening, as the two of you relax in his suite after a grueling race weekend, Max turns to you, his eyes serious. “I know this world can be intense, the scrutiny constant. But I hope you know that you’re not alone in this.”

You nod, feeling a swell of emotion. “Being with you, being part of this team, it’s incredible. Like finding a family I never knew I needed.”

Max smiles, pulling you close. “That’s because you are family. And I promise, no matter what, we’ll face everyone and everything together.”

The season progresses, and as Max inches closer to clinching the championship title once again, the excitement within the Red Bull team reaches a fever pitch. Through every high and low, every victory and setback, you stand beside Max, cheering him on.

***

“Easy there!” Christian says, catching you just as the world starts to spin and your vision blurs.

The sound of concerned voices surrounds you as you struggle to stay conscious but it’s too much. Everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re lying on a couch in Red Bull hospitality, Max’s anxious face hovering above yours. “Hey,” he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. “You scared me there.”

“What ... what happened?” you ask, your voice weak.

“You fainted,” Daniel chimes in from nearby. “We’re getting a doctor to check on you.”

True to his word, a doctor soon arrives, performing a series of tests and asking various questions. He recommends a more thorough examination and you find yourself being whisked away to a nearby clinic.

As you await the results, Max holds your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m right here,” he assures you. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

The doctor returns, a knowing smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he says, looking at both of you. “You’re going to be parents.”

The room goes silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You turn to Max, searching his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t expect this. It’s so soon.”

Max pulls you close, his eyes glassy with tears of joy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he murmurs. “But I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”

Your emotions swirl, a mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Are you sure? What about your career? The media?”

Max silences you with a gentle kiss. “None of that matters. The only thing I care about is us. Our family.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, touched by his words. “I love you,” you whisper, heart full to overflowing.

Max grins, his blue eyes shining. “And I love you. This might be unexpected but it’s the best surprise of my life.”

***

“Three-time World Champion! How does that feel?” A journalist thrusts a microphone towards Max moments after his astounding win in Qatar.

“It’s surreal,” Max responds, his gaze seeking you out among the crowd. “Every championship is special but this one ... it’s different.”

The winter months are a haven of privacy for the two of you in your own little bubble. As the world speculates about the upcoming racing season, you and Max nest away from prying eyes, savoring the anticipation of your growing family.

However, when the 2024 season kicks off, it’s impossible to hide your baby bump any longer. Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk through the paddock with Max for the first day of preseason testing.

“It’s so obvious now!”

“They look so happy together.”

“She’s glowing.”

But one voice rises above the rest from the sea of murmurs, filled with venom. “So this is your grand plan? Trap Max by getting pregnant?”

You turn to find Charles, his face contorted with anger. You take a deep breath, preparing to face the storm. “Charles, this really isn’t the place—”

Max steps forward, partially blocking you from Charles’ view, his voice colder than ice. “What do you want?”

Charles scoffs, looking you up and down with disdain. “Just wanted to see the spectacle for myself. You always did know how to play the game.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger, his posture tense. “Let me make this clear. You don’t get to disrespect Y/N or our relationship. You lost that right a long time ago.”

“You think this will make him stay with you?” Charles sneers towards you. “That he won’t get tired of you just like he did with all the others?”

Before you can respond, Daniel steps in, his presence commanding and the joking smile that usually graces his face nowhere to be found. “Enough. Show some respect.”

Christian, overhearing the commotion, joins the fray. “Is there a problem here?” he asks, voice firm.

Charles hesitates, glancing around at the united front against him. “No,” he finally mutters, turning on his heel and walking away.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens, his expression stormy. “You know you’re never alone in this, right?” he asks.

You nod, your voice soft but resolute. “I do. And I know you’ll always have my back. Just like I’ll always have yours.”

He squeezes your hand. “Always. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Our family is the most important thing in my life.”

***

The soft hum of chatter surrounds the preschool’s main entrance. Parents eagerly await their children, discussing the excitement of the first day. You stand beside Max, his hand resting protectively on your protruding belly.

“Look, Mama!” A little voice exclaims and two giggling children rush towards you — your daughter, Sophie, and a boy with familiar dark hair.

Before you can respond, another voice joins the fray. “Henri! Over here!”

You turn, finding Charles standing there, Elise by his side, her arm entwined with his. Their eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition.

Sophie hugs her little friend, Henri. “This is my new best friend!”

Max bends down, ruffling Sophie’s hair. “That’s great, liefje.” He then stands and addresses Charles, his tone neutral, “Seems our children have taken a liking to each other.”

Charles nods, attempting a smile. “It appears so.”

There’s an awkward silence, the past hanging heavily between you all.

Finally, Elise speaks, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry ... for everything. I never expected things to turn out like this.”

You meet her gaze, seeing genuine remorse. “Life is full of surprises. But it led me to Max and he is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

Max adds, “What’s important is that we’re all here for our kids. Let’s not make our past their burden.”

Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. I regret many things but right now, Henri is my world and I want the best for him.”

You place a hand on your belly, feeling the tiny kicks. “Our children have a chance at a fresh start, a friendship untainted by the history of their parents. Let’s not stand in their way.”

The two children, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment, tug at your arms. “Can we go to the park? Pretty please.” Sophie asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

You smile down at her, “Of course.”

As your two families part ways, there’s a sense of closure. The past, with its pain and betrayal, has been acknowledged, but the future, the innocent laughter of your children, holds promise. Life has moved on, leading each of you down different paths, but in this moment, there’s newfound unity in the shared hope for a brighter tomorrow.

[arieslost]

one night only | cl16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: when the miami grand prix comes around, charles books a hotel room.

word count: 3,263

warnings: 18+ content MDNI!! mentions of cheating (don’t do it), cursing, charles is a player but you’re down bad (who isn’t), this is my first time writing smut so enjoy!

special thank you to @venusacrossthestars for being my beta reader, ily bestie <3

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

unknown number: Our hotel. 10:30. Your keycard is at the front desk.

It was like clockwork. Every weekend of the Miami Grand Prix, you always ended up with a keycard in your hand. When Monday came, you woke up, showered, and took the tiny bottle of shampoo that you used with you when you left. It went in a shoebox under your bed to remind yourself not only of your mistakes, but of each and every night you spent forgetting them in the arms of the biggest mistake himself— Charles Leclerc.

It’s happened twice now. You hardly remembered the first, barring a joke you made about whether or not you needed to sign a NDA. Charles had silenced you by backing you up against the locked door and pressing heated kisses to your jaw, lips moving down your neck as you pulled him closer. He was excited that weekend— he’d taken P2, and it was thanks to the celebration he partook in at the club that he met you.

You were a bartender for the VIP section at a club near the track. It was easy work, if you didn’t mind all the flirting and catcalling. You were never one to be affected by it; you knew they were all either drunk beyond recognition, or would be by the end of the night. You loved your job. You also loved your boyfriend, whose shift you’d picked up that night.

But then Charles Leclerc, Scuderia Ferrari’s golden boy, sat down at the bar. Your bar.

After that weekend, you didn’t have a boyfriend. How could you, when every time he kissed you, you saw a certain Monegasque behind your closed eyelids? When every time he touched you, you imagined different hands caressing your skin?

You’ve always prided yourself in being a strong, independent woman, but when it came to the Formula One driver, all your inhibitions went out the window, and your pride with them. So you tried not to get attached to him. You were perfectly happy to be the annual hookup, to let yourself go for one night out of the 365 that came in a year. You didn’t need to get to know him, you didn’t need to learn more about the sport; you didn’t even need to kiss him on the mouth.

You didn’t.

So why were the words “our hotel” making your heart race every time you read over the text from his unsaved number?

You thought about responding, but in the end, you settled for liking the message, just like you did the last time he texted you. It had been his idea to keep this up in the first place, anyway.

2021.

“Where’re you going?” He was half awake, sleep fading quickly from his eyes when he took in the sight of you with your hand on the doorknob.

“I was leaving… unless you changed your mind about that NDA?” You quipped.

“That’s as funny as it was last night,” he groaned, stretching out and pushing the blankets off his body.

Ahh, last night. He’d put his boxers back on before falling asleep, but they didn’t really leave much to the imagination. Especially because it was all so fresh in your mind. The way he looked– hair mussed after all the times your hands had run through it, golden skin against the crisp, white hotel sheets, the red scratch marks on his back… Yeah, it was a miracle that you didn’t launch yourself back into the bed right then and there. You still dreamt about it sometimes, the way he looked so ethereal in the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains.

“Are you going to continue to mock my sense of humor, or can I be on my way?” Your throat was so dry.

“I’ll be back in the area next year.” He didn’t offer any explanation— it was Charles Leclerc. He didn’t have to.

You fished out the piece of paper you’d scrawled your number on earlier before promptly stuffing it into your pocket in a moment of retrospection. Hell bent on leaving the room before you acted on the impulse to get on top of him again, you tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Make sure I can tell it’s you.” It was the last thing you said to him before you finally made it out the door.

Now, you read over his text again as you climbed the steps to the VIP section of the club. Our hotel. You were going to need some liquid courage if you were going to fuck him tonight.

A solid perk of your job was free access to the VIP section when you weren’t working, and in times like these you were most definitely going to take advantage of it. A couple shots were all you needed to take the edge off, and you downed them in quick succession before checking the time- 10:10. You were cutting it close, but the closer it got to 10:30, the antsier you became. You decided to linger for five more minutes, and called for another round.

“You okay?” One of your coworkers asked from behind the bar as he filled the shot glasses in front of you. “You look a little nervous.”

You laughed, waving him off. “I’m fine. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy my drinks, will you?”

He flipped you off good naturedly before turning to his other customers.

With another shot down, you took out your phone, the text still front and center on the display. You swiped it away, instead opening up the search engine. Against your better judgment, you typed the sentence you’d been restraining yourself from searching up all day long: miami gp 2024 results.

The first thing you saw was his name. CHARLES LECLERC WINS 2024 MIAMI GRAND PRIX.

You fought the urge to smile, quickly grabbing your fourth and final shot and tipping it back. Ironically, the burn of the whiskey sobered you up a little as you gazed at the picture showcasing his beaming face and dimpled cheeks, both hands lifting the first place trophy high in the air. You made the mistake of bringing up the race (or lack thereof) the last time you saw him, and since then you’d made an effort to try and avoid anything to do with F1.

2022.

“Disqualified? I mean, it’s shit!” You exclaimed heatedly as you wiped down the bar. Your phone was burning a hole in your pocket, making your stomach squirm with excitement every time you remembered the text.

Same hotel. 10:30. There’s a keycard at the front desk. No NDA. You had giggled at that last bit, and if you’d completely given up on your morals then you might have fallen in love with him for remembering the joke that he didn’t even crack a smile at last year. You’d practiced some French, and you paid attention to news about the Miami Grand Prix, but you hadn’t given up on your morals.​​ You weren’t going to fall for and pursue the guy you only saw once a year.

The French was simply because you wanted to brush up on your rusty high school skills. As for the news… well, you were in the area. Everyone was paying attention to the news.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much.” Your coworker replied, an eyebrow cocked at your reaction to what the reporter was saying on the TV.

“I don’t care, I just think it’s stupid.” You backpedaled, trying to sound more casual than you did a second ago, especially when Charles appeared on the screen looking nothing short of dead inside and your heart began to beat a little faster. “Everyone should be able to race.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the FIA for you.” One of your patrons grumbled, thumbing through his wallet and producing two five dollar bills. “Thanks, guys.”

“You keep that,” you shoved both bills into your coworker’s hand after the customer was out of earshot. “I have to go.”

You changed at the speed of light in the VIP bathroom before going to the hotel. You showed the clerk your ID, collected the keycard, entered the room, and promptly made a fool of yourself.

“I heard about the disqualification on the news…” You trailed off when you were met with a glare, not necessarily towards you but rather the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Was all he said before he practically manhandled you onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as you bounced back on the mattress. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to talk about work. I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, any other words dying in your throat as he hurriedly pushed your dress up past your stomach and immediately started kissing every inch of newly exposed skin.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you. “The only thing I want to hear you say for the rest of the night is my name, understand?”

He’d grabbed your hands and put them in his hair that night, right as he had you seeing stars courtesy of his head between your legs. You dreamt about that, too. A lot. You always woke up sweating, in desperate need of a certain type of relief that only he could give you.

You were thinking about last year again as you walked through the revolving doors into the hotel lobby, the shots of whiskey making your veins thrum with excitement.

The way he had whined when you pulled his hair.

The way he smirked at you as he crawled back up your body, so full of himself and so damn sexy.

You found yourself wondering what he’d be like tonight after winning the race as you gave your name to the clerk at the front desk, hoping she wouldn’t comment on how flushed you looked. She asked to see your ID, then handed the keycard over. Room 24. You were there in moments. He always booked a room on the third floor. As you walked down the hallway, you were vaguely aware of the fact that, against your will, this had become something of a routine.

You and Charles Leclerc. One night only.

For three years in a row.

You hadn’t even bothered to dress up this time— your clothes wouldn’t be staying on very long, anyway.

You were glad to see that you’d gotten there first when you opened the door, pocketing the keycard as the door swung shut behind you. There was no point in looking around the room; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. Eventually, you drew your attention to the view out of the large window, moving the curtain out of your way to admire the view of the Miami night. You tried imagining what everyone else was doing at that exact moment to distract yourself, but your mind kept going back to Charles.

Charles, Charles, Charles. Just thinking about him made your heart knock against your chest, and you were in the middle of mentally berating yourself for it when you heard the door opening and Charles himself walked in, the trophy you saw him holding in the picture still in his hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him, nerves adding a slight shake to your voice.

He gave you a soft smile in return, setting the trophy down on the nightstand and adjusting it slightly.

You remembered how he reacted the last time you mentioned his job, but this had to be different. Besides, it felt wrong not to acknowledge it when the trophy was literally sitting right there.

“Congrats— or, actually, félicitations on the win,” you said, dropping the curtain back and stepping closer to get a better look at the trophy. “Much better result than last year.”

“You’re not kidding.” He scoffed, taking his hat off and tossing it on the other side of the nightstand. “You know French?”

“A little.”

He had changed out of his race suit, but when you stood next to him you could still smell the champagne.

“Think you’ll be in the running for the championship?” You asked casually, even though you knew that he was in a great position already and was most definitely in the running for the championship.

You tried to avoid Formula One. You just weren’t all that successful.

He gave you a look, like he was trying to get in your head and figure out when you’d started paying attention. “I hope so,” he finally answered. “This could be the year.”

“I hope so too.” A pause. “Would it be overstepping if I said I was proud of you?”

This brought a real smile to his face, his dimples seeming even more prominent than they did in the photo. “Not at all. It’s actually really nice… hearing that from you.”

The usual initial awkwardness had finally faded away, and you knew what was going to happen next. You wished you could sit down with him and listen to him retell every moment of his triumphant race, but you couldn’t.

That’s what girlfriends do. Not hookups. You were perfectly fine with being a hookup, and you would continue to repeat it to yourself until you believed it again.

To mask your disappointment, you reached out and gently took his hand. His palm was warm under your touch as you pulled him close. “How about we celebrate that first place, hmm?”

The two of you moved like a well oiled machine, even after not seeing each other in a year.

He always tried to kiss you. You always turned your head at the last second. If he was disappointed, he never showed it, instead focusing on getting you underneath him. Not that he had to try very hard.

Charles had a way of making you forget. With every brush of his fingers against your bare skin, every press of his lips at your collarbone, you slipped away from reality more and more, until the only things that mattered were you, him, and the hotel room. Nothing existed outside of the four walls you were within, and how could you care right now? You couldn’t, not when he had already gotten you out of your shirt and bra and his hand was gently taking hold of your breast. He was taking his time, studying your every move in response to his own. His thumb brushed across your nipple just enough for your breath to catch in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he murmured, ego clearly inflated by the fact that the slightest touch from him still had you reacting this way, and you wished more than anything that you could kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” you managed to say as his thumb continued its back and forth motion.

“This is me celebrating.” He paused, giving you a pointed look. “Is this not good enough for you?”

You bit your tongue, chest rising and falling as you squirmed underneath him due to the sudden lack of stimulation. “I-I just—”

“What? Utilise tes mots, chérie. Je sais que tu peux.” Use your words, dear. I know you can.

You took a breath, then looked directly into his stunning green eyes as you reached up, grabbed his wrist, and pushed his hand down. “Je te veux ici, Charles.” I want you here.

He cursed lowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when he heard you speaking French back to him. “You said you only knew a little.”

“Just the important stuff,” you teased, eyes traveling down from his bare chest to his fingers as he tugged your underwear off.

The rest of his clothes followed, and he didn’t waste any time rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you, a punched breath leaving his lips once he was fully seated inside you. “Thought about this all day,” he said, large hands running over your naked body. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You can’t say that kind of shit to me, Charles.” You sighed, your eyes closed as you adjusted to him.

“Why not?”

“Because it messes with my head,” you admitted.

“I mean it, though.”

“Did you mean to say ‘our hotel’ too?” You opened your eyes now, the burning question finally about to be answered.

“It is, don’t you think?” He asked, and then he started to move; slowly, tantalizingly.

“Shit. I can’t think when I’m with you.”

You couldn’t talk after that, not when he was making you feel so good. You could only wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and marking his neck wherever your lips landed. You shouldn’t have, and he should have stopped you, but neither of you cared. Every lewd noise coming from his mouth made you feel hotter and hotter, and just when you thought you were going to burst into a ball of flames, he started talking.

“I want you to look at yourself,” he instructed breathlessly, maneuvering you so he was now laying on his side behind you… and you were staring right into your own eyes in the shiny surface of his first place trophy. “See how beautiful you look when I fuck you.”

You gasped, eyes rolling back, bringing your arm back so your hand could find a home in his hair again. You watched through the trophy as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin and arm tightening around you as he picked up his pace.

“Charles, I—”

“Mhmm,” he moaned in your ear, his hand slipping back between your legs when he felt you tightening around him. “Go on, baby, let go for me.”

You didn’t need to learn more about Formula One, but you had. You didn’t need to know more about Charles Leclerc, but you wanted to. You didn’t need to kiss him on the mouth. But your mind was hazy, and you wanted to know how his lips felt on yours. You wanted it so bad that, when the both of you had come back down to earth, you didn’t fight it when he leaned in and captured your lips with his. He kissed you deeply, rolling you onto your back against the pillows. You felt his hand against your cheek, and as you opened your mouth for him you tangled your fingers with his.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that things wouldn’t change.

And they don’t.

You still wake up before him in the morning. You still shower. You still put your clothes back on. You still trade parting words with each other, and you don’t hear from him for another year. You still take the shampoo bottle and put it in your shoebox when you get home, ignoring the ache between your legs the whole while.

Nothing changes.

Except now, you’ve spent a year knowing what it’s like to kiss him. You know how easily your lips mold together, how you would happily spend your one night with him doing nothing but kissing him.

And when the text lights up your phone, a thrill shoots through you.

CL16: Our hotel. 10:00. You know where to find your keycard. 😉

Maybe, somehow, you can find a way to keep your morals and be in love with Charles Leclerc at the same time.

note: well, here it is— after two+ years, i have made my long awaited return to posting fics on tumblr. i’ve done it in style by posting 18+ content for the first time; i hope it wasn’t too cringy to read. i don’t know what came over me, but here we are. thank you so much for reading.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

also, i’ve been out of high school for almost three years now, so i greatly apologize if the french is bad or incorrect.

beautiful dividers by @saradika !!

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @naturallyspontaneous @whatever7justchillin @outerudeth @devlovesbooks @wegaveitago @seagulltacotoaster @acarguello1 @fangirlika @simplyscorpio @nuccibeboo2 @heeygemmilala @toppersjeep @anedpev @vee2004dee @chriss-club @lewisroscoelove @scaramou @aneverythingwriter @bingewatche @candystarfish @bestpart0fmylife @topgunmav1df1 @taytaythirteen @jackiekennedys @tpwk-loml @mangodreamsicle @rafaaoli @bunbun9396 @olicitymckono @weareallsnottygirls @jenm26 @alicecourtier @oliveswiftly @janeholt3 @d3kstar @l-inas @smiithys @spookylilmeep @barcelono @ililali-blog @srhh15 @sainz-leclerc @lilycampbells-blog @cassandra-nerezza-black @nova-rush

[chrollohearttags]

TRACK 01 ❥ RIDE • J. KIRSCHTEIN

your love with jean didn’t start out with perfect beginnings but he’ll make certain it has the story book ending.

❥ content + warnings: paramedic!jean, patient liaison reader (black coded), mentions of illness, pain, etc, very brief mention of infidelity, Jean being a complete lover boy, he has a heavy country/creole accent (he speaks French once or twice) hotel sex, alcohol use, fingering, foot play, bondage, dirty talk, squirting, blindfold, wax play, pet names (my love, my girl, sweetheart) daddy kink + heavy dom, nipple play, breeding/pregnancy, mating press

word count: 6.2K

“Take off those heels, lay on my bed…whisper dirty secrets while I’m pulling on your hair..”

₀․₀₀◦──────────────────────────₃․₁₅

there were so many words that could be used to describe the enigma of a man that was Jean Kirschtein. For the longest, he was a mystery to you..not being able to take him one way or the other. You couldn’t quite figure him out or really see him for who he truly was. And just when you’d thought you had him all figured out; pegged as one thing, he swayed your mind in the opposite direction. Granted, that was before you knew him beyond being your ex’s homeboy. Keeping yourself at arm’s bay from any man that wasn’t him as to not make him jealous. Of course, that was prior to learning that it wasn’t Jean or anyone else you had to worry about. It was him. It was only a year and a half ago that you learned the heartbreaking news of your ex’s infidelity and by the mouth of none other than Jean himself. It came as such a shock to you that as he spoke, you found yourself almost collapsing onto the pavement but he quickly caught you. You’d never felt so humiliated and betrayed before in your life. The weight of it was almost too much for you to bare..that was until Jean caught you within his grasp and never let go! He assured you that Connie or no other man would ever harm you again as long as he was around. A promise he kept true to..even severing ties with his best friend altogether. It was easy by no means and you felt guilty for being the reason their friendship ended but the only thing you were met with was laughter and a very simple statement in response:

“Any man that could hurt a beautiful woman like you could never be my friend.”

that wasn’t all though..as Jean explained, the two of them began falling out over his constant womanizing and cheating. Granted, he was no saint himself and the two of them were no strangers to having multiple ladies in their lives or even having threesomes with them. But all of that changed when Connie got with you…or so he claimed! Turns out, he only amped up his infidelity through the roof and left you in the dark about all of it. Jean, although a bit of a ladies man himself, couldn’t sit idly by and allow you to be harmed by his actions. But honestly, none of that mattered now. Hell, it all seemed like a far off past that you had but repressed from your memory. Especially when Jean had all but spent this last year and some change not only atoning for Connie’s mistakes but treating you like the absolute goddess you were. The two of you were both employed by the same hospital; you worked as a patient liaison who saw to the non medical needs of the patients. Ensuring that they knew how much they were being billed and offering assistance if it were needed, making certain that their rooms were up to par, even helping out with diet plans..if someone were vegetarian or pescetarian, you’d relay the message to the kitchen staff and make sure they’d have those options for them. It was equally as important as their medical care and it was a job you did exceptionally well. It most certainly took a special person! Which Jean appreciated and respected when he watched you work..always so kind and empathetic. It was no wonder why he felt the innate sense to spoil you in return.

he himself worked as an EMT. Transporting patients to and from the hospital, dealing with high stress situations and quite frankly, enjoying every bit of the adrenaline rush that ensued. Sometimes, it was so intense, he questioned if he were meant to pursue this. But you were his safe haven and once he was with you, he felt as if he could conquer the world!

however, just for the evening…you were setting aside your workplace concerns and stories to be solely devoted to one another. It was a rather special occasion, for many reasons. One being Valentine's Day. And the other? The six month anniversary since you guys began seeing one another officially. When he asked you out after a late night shift and you found yourselves at one of your favorite spots to eat. He handed you a small gift and asked properly; despite hooking up several times prior. Stating that he knew it wasn’t ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but he just couldn’t wait to make you his. It was so thoughtful, you nearly burst into tears right there. Fast forward and life only got better! You had never experienced love the way you had with Jean..endless affection, fancy dates when permitted, small gestures to brighten your day and of course, sex on an entirely different level! This man knew your body like the back of his hand and he always knew the right things to do to make you tick and turn you on. Still, he’d always have his reservations. He wanted to prove that you were worth far more than late night rendezvouses and backseat hookups. He wanted to give you the absolute world on a platter. A goal he had in mind as he made his way to your place; a small house you shared with an older sister and nephew. He pulled that blacked out two seater up to the curb of your driveway..hopping out to open the passenger door just as you made your appearance!

“Well..my my..and they say goddesses don’t walk this earth. I’d hafta’ disagree..not when my baby exists.”

your face completely flushed in a sheath of warmth and your stomach fluttered with butterflies as you flashed that pearly smile and strutted closer. He wasn’t exaggerating because to say you looked divine, wouldn’t be an understatement! Face done up in the most beautiful shimmers and red lipstick that complimented that beautiful dark skin tone, those normally tight curls styled into an updo and gleaming jewelry he had brought dangled from your neck and ears. Dressed in a thigh length red dress with a slit on the right side, tall, strappy heels that wrapped around your calves and a handbag to match. However, you wouldn’t be opening that unless it were to touch up your makeup. Because he had plans that involved spoiling you rotten in more ways than one..and best believe he wasn’t empty handed when getting out to greet you either. No, he was brandishing what seemed to be the largest bouquet of roses he could find!

“You’re way too sweet, baby..thank you!”

“No such thing..here, these are for you, my love. Happy Valentines..and anniversary.”

delicately lacing your cheek with a peck..accepting them, you’d thank him once more and right there, in return..shove your tongue between his lips whilst caressing his cheek. Jean would feel the rush of ecstasy that came with your touch rush his veins. Each kiss, hug and caress took his breath away. Needless to say, dinner was merely the appetizer to the main course to which his pallet desired!..

“Ready to hit the town, my lady?” Garnering quite the adorable giggle from you. He was such a charmer..constantly wooing you despite the relationship nearing a year old.

“Well of course, sir. Lead the way.” you’d return his sentiment, grinning from ear to ear. With that, he’d make haste in opening the door and allowing you to take your seat in the passenger’s side, easing you in. And afterwards, he’d make his own way back to the drivers to start up the ignition. Tonight was sure to be one that would forever be embedded into your memory and heart for many years to come..

page break and time skip

“Jean Rene Kirschtein, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you..dammit, and I said I wasn’t going to cry tonight.”

the only response that you could muster at the moment as you cupped a hand across your mouth, feigning tears and hysterics as you glared down at the crushed velvet box, seated in your lap. Inside, resided a sparkling ring..glistening with princess cut diamonds and a twenty four karat silver band. It was absolutely gorgeous and not to mention..all yours. A piece of jewelry that set him back about nine hundred or so dollars but it was fitting for a promise ring. Not to mention all the other countless gifts he had bestowed upon you tonight. Once he dropped to that knee, there would be no expense spared. He’d grasp your hand as he reached across the table and intertwined your fingers. After he slipped it on for you.

“Well, you could start by drying those pretty eyes of yers’…no need to cry, baby. You deserve this and so much more..” the words permeated your ears and heart like arrows shit directly from Cupid himself. Currently, the two of you were at the rooftop restaurant stationed at the Blaise Hotel, located on the opposite side of town and near the outskirts. It was so lavish yet so intimate at the same time…dim blue illumination outlined the cursive sign hung atop the building. Marble and gold embellished the lobby and everything was so beautiful. It was rather apparent that Jean had spared no expenses when it came to making this night as special as possible. To say you were grateful would be an understatement. “Listen..I know that you and I didn’t exactly start this thing off right and hell, maybe in another life, ya’ would’ve been mine in the first place. But (y/n), baby. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure that I’ll be your last. One day, I wanna replace this with the real thing. I wanna marry ya’, have some babies..grow old together. The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life making you happy. I love you.”

and you knew that he meant every single word that left his mouth. Unlike your ex, there was no doubt that you were his one and only. And you were about to see the great lengths he was willing to go to just to prove that!

“I love you more, Jean..thank you, for making this past year or so, the best I’ve ever had. You pulled me out of a dark place when everyone else was willing to let me sit there..you did things for me that you didn’t have to and I’m forever grateful. I don’t know what I did to deserve to be this happy but…I hope it never ends.” Ending your speech by hoisting your glass, in hopes of not becoming emotional once more. The two of you would toast and take generous swigs of that red Cabernet. Sweet yet strong and the perfect beverage for an occasion like this. “Well..it’s as my granny used ta’ say..’ Même toutes les étoiles du ciel ne pourraient pas briller aussi fort que toi, ma bien-aimée.” Meaning that you shined brighter than any star in the sky and he wanted to spend all night showing you just how special you were to him. Because unbeknownst, there was a second portion to your surprise. One that would undoubtedly embed this night in your mind for a very long time.

“Say, why don’t we get outta here and head upstairs? I gotta lil’ something for you.” Whilst you were finishing up the remnants of your wine, Jean stood from his seat; righter leaving both the bill and hefty tip inside of a black leather booklet. There was no need for you to concern yourself with it or the price inside. This was your night..to be celebrated, to be spoiled and to be loved properly. Something he planned to do in more ways than one. Grasping your hand and the cusp of your arm with the gentlest touch, he’d help you from your seat and pushed it back in. The signs of a true southern gentleman if you’d ever seen one. You knew that his folks had raised him right in the way he carried himself. Although you’d seen Jean act the fool as any twenty something year old boy would, he was always so polite and respectful. Always holding doors, never making you lift a finger to do anything and of course, charmed you to no end. “A lil’ something, huh? Something tells me you went all out..again!” Teasing him as the two of you exited the rooftop to take an elevator down to your suite. Hand in hand with your free one occasionally raising up to stroke his chest. As his own, cradled your waist..holding you close.

“Now now, sweetheart…a man never reveals his secrets. You just relax and let me worry about everything.”

honestly, there was no attesting Jean once he got something set in his head. He was stubborn but there was never a moment where he didn’t see something through to fruition. He also had the habit of sparing no expense to take care of someone else. Maybe that’s what made him such a great first responder..and lover. He was a dominant man. Not the possessive or overbearing type but rather the kind to step up to the plate and handle business without so much as a second thought. Which is why you felt so safe and secure around him..for once, it felt nice to be soft..vulnerable. To let your guard down and let someone else take the lead. So with that, accepting his answer, you’d await patiently as the elevator descended and the down arrow illuminated. Finally, it would come to a halt on the fourth floor..where Jean stepped out first to offer up his hand so he could guide you along. Your heels clicked briefly against the tile flooring before it quickly transitioned to carpet. The hall was decorated with vibrant white and blue paints, vivid imagery plastered onto paintings and sleek, modern lighting illuminated the path to the rooms stationed on the right side. Although Jean’s chivalry seemed to be never ending, there was another reason as to why he was so adamant of stepping ahead of you.

“Before we go inside…there’s one more thing I have for ya..turn around.”

414. The room number in which you two would be residing for the evening..although, you were certain not much sleeping would be taking place. You were stopped in your tracks right by the door as he grasped your hand. Even so, you’d do as your man instructed and spin until your back was facing him. It was then that he’d instruct you to step forward and fully devoting your trust in him, you knew he’d guide you in the right direction. With those strong hands cradling your waist, you’d step forward until you heard the door close behind you. A couple more steps and you could hear soft music playing..until you felt your calves graze what seemed to be a soft cushion of sorts.

“Take a seat, sweetheart..I’m right here.” That deep drawl ringing out in your ear and sending shivers tingling up your spine. Upon bending down to let your backside hit the bed, you’d await his next command. Patently and completely devoted to him. You trusted Jean, more than anyone. So you’d do exactly as he instructed. With your hands resting on your thighs, (y/n) sat straight upright as you felt his fingertips grazing your shoulder blades. You could feel his breath against your neck and his stubble just barely grazing your skin.. “..you’re so beautiful, baby. Ya’ know that? God, I feel like I don’t ever get to say it enough.” His voice dropped to a low vibrato as he continued caressing you. Soaking you in, drinking in your scent and just enjoying being in your presence. Taking his sweet time to fill your head with all of those beautiful words..affirming the things he felt about you on a daily basis. Whilst he did so, Jean’s lips trailed further south. Going from your neck to your shoulders..where he removed the straps of your dress and slid them down gently. His hands trailed the sides of your body and every square inch where he removed an article of clothing, he replaced it with subtle pecks. You couldn’t see a thing but you could feel it all..the warmth of his breath against your flesh, your ensemble slowly slipping away from you and his hands roaming around your torso. Including those supple breasts. Your nipples had begun to stiffen up as he toiled with them between his fingertips. You’d raise your hand to caress his head as it rested on your shoulder. Whilst toying with your newly exposed tits, Jean continued nipping at your ear and rattling off in it. Only this time, his words were far more risqué than before!..

“..ya’ know..I planned this night out in my head several times. I thought of all the ways I wanted to make love to you. How I’d be all gentle and sweet with ya’..but I gotta be honest, sweetheart…”

it was in the midst of his speech did you feel that same hand snake down between your legs and part them with a single pop to your thighs. His movements switched from delicate to a slightly bit rough in only a matter of seconds! He couldn’t hold back any longer..he needed you. He craved you..and desperately!

“..I just wanna fuck the shit out of you. I know that’s not all sweet and romantic. But I can’t help it..I just wanna give you what you deserve. The type of dick you should’ve been getting a long time ago, baby.” Whilst his words seeped to your head, your core was feeling the effects as well. With that center exposed as he tugged your thong to the side, it was no secret that you were already leaking from the sound of his voice and teasing alone. That was exactly where he wanted you! Vulnerable, soft..melting within his grasp. “..Jeannn…” “shh, shhh it’s okay..” He didn’t want you to do a thing. So much so, it wasn’t long before you felt your wrists being bound together in front of you as well. Right now, you were completely under his control and you could bet, that trust you placed in him wasn’t something he was going to take lightly or abuse. He would spend every waking second he had within this room pleasing you to the utmost of his ability.

“..god, those titties are so pretty, sweetheart. I just wanna suck on those nipples, get them hard.” Declaring as he gently grabbed your already sensitive buds and squeezed. He could sense that your body was already coming undone and he hadn’t even begun to toy with you yet! But alas, you had all night and you could fall apart as many times as you needed to..he’d be right there to put you back together! “And this pussy…fuck, it’s so wet for me already…” it was blatantly obvious that he was in the mood to play the long game. To spend hours if needed to build you up to your breaking point, only because he knew the release would be that much sweeter. “Yer’ gonna feel so good, I just know it..” In a sheer moment of haste, your lover would tear that dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a slip of paper. Soon, every other article of clothing would follow suit shortly after and Jean was quick to make his next move. Pulling you back towards his chest; still clothed with the black button down, he’d snake that tattooed arm down the center of your torso. Where he’d revel in toying with your slit. Spreading those puffy lips apart with his index and middle fingers. The sensation of cool air immediately made contact with that dripping warmth and needless to say, you were shivering instantly. Whimpering and huffing as he massaged that clit. Rubbing yourself against those finger pads and grinding on it. Pushing up and slowly gliding back down when he added a single finger. With just that one digit alone, you began writhing and begging him for more but it wasn’t time..you weren’t ready. “Baby, you can barely even take my finger right now…look at how she’s squeezing me.” Chuckling as he watched your movements. You had a habit of being restless..once you became aroused, nothing could tame that salacious appetite except the most intense, passionate sex that he could offer. “I knowww, but pleaseee—“ “..if you know then let me take care of you. Cut it out.” cooing into your ear and reaffirming his point with a gentle hand around your throat. “So are ya’ gonna relax and lemme handle it, sweetheart? Tell me..” and with that subtle dominance, what other choice did you have? That unwavering resolve of his wore you down rather quickly. “Yes, daddy..please take care of me..” “..that’s my pretty girl..” But alas, the foreplay and teasing was far from finished! Keeping you reigned to his chest, Jean continued to work that little cunt over with calculated touches and subtle pushes. Pressing into that sensitive core..his knuckles would become coated in that sticky sex, hoping to drum up more as he persisted. For now, he was ready to move on to his next task on the docket! His movements would come to a halt and suddenly you’d find yourself spasming on nothing more than air. It left you with a yearning..a longing for more. As you awaited his next move, he’d prompt you to open your mouth before placing those fingers between your lips and allowing you to not only clean them off but pacify those pathetic whimpers. “Taste yourself..there ya’ go. So fucking sweet..” You were still shielded from all the surroundings, your eyes covered by that satin cloth. Drool would seep from (y/n)’s jaws and shallow breaths escaped your throat. It was apparent that you were close but prolonging that orgasm would only make the moment that much better. For now, he had but one simple command:

“Hands in front of ya’, sweetheart.” The sharp tone in his voice causes a tingle to trickle down your spine. But naturally, you complied..submitting yourself to him entirely. Once you place your arms to your stomach, you’d find your wrists bound and tightly secured. You were completely at his will and before he proceeded, he’d reposition you to the mattress, placing you flat on your back..as you laid there, sprawled out and completely exposed, the gentle, familiar brush of his fingertips grazed your cheek yet again. Your arms, now outstretched and lying dormant above your head. You had no way of telling what it was that your boyfriend was planning..no sense of your surroundings but that was the entire point. He wanted complete autonomy over you..ensuring that you could trust him and for the next thing he had planned, he wanted you to be fully submissive to him.

“M’ gonna need you to hold still f’r me. Okay, sweetheart? You’re gonna feel a lil’ something dripping..and I want you to let me know if it hurts. You trust me..right?” without a shadow of a doubt, the answer was clear but he wanted to hear you say it. He needed that explicit consent that you wanted this just as badly. Just above your swollen, erect nipples, something hovered about you. It felt warm..which led you to one conclusion:

“Yes..please. Do it.”

and with that, he’d proceed! Brandishing in his hand was an already illuminated candle..one of which was already flickering upon your arrival to the room, as he had requested. This one was beginning to melt but to help speed up the process, Jean retrieved a lighter from his pocket. The same one he used to ignite his cigarettes and blunts on very rare occasions. A sterling silver one with his initials engraved..sparking the flame, the sandy blonde took both items and dangled them only inches from your body. Your frame wiggled around on the bed in anticipation; your chest heaving but breath shallow…you could sense what was coming and for a brief moment, the room fell silent. That’s when it happened…

plop!

the single sound of a wax droplet making contact with your flesh. Your reaction followed a split second later as you sucked your teeth and whimpered. He had to make certain that it wasn’t painful to you. But all reservations subsided when underneath the flicker of that flame, he’d watch that gorgeous smile appear and suddenly, he was at ease and confident that he could keep going! “How’d it feel, mama? That didn’t hurt, did it?” Cooing with a swipe of his thumb across your cheek as he awaited your response. “Y-yeah..but it felt so good! Please…more.” And he didn’t hesitate! Jean continued whittling down that candle with his flames. Soon, the beads multiplied as they fell and before long, your gorgeous dark complexion was marked with cream colored, hardened splatters of wax. Akin to a portrait, you were like a masterpiece..one he wanted to frame and keep forever. Your tits gently swaying as you squirmed around and the sounds of your adorable giggles, along with the lilt in your voice was satisfying enough for your boyfriend. Those beautiful nipples protruding and hardened beyond belief, only caused you to squirm as he grazed them. “That feel good, my love?” “Yes! So good..thank you!” That single show of gratitude made the tent in his pants grow larger..as well as his desire for you! He was fighting the urge to strip down and fuck you senseless right now but he was almost where he wanted you. Where he needed you..

“Good..that’s all I wanna hear..”

just then, Jean would kneel into the mattress to propel himself up. Only after he set aside the candle and lighter, extinguishing both. Where he’d begin to undress. Peeling off his clothing layer by layer. You’d hear the sound of that designer belt buckle clinking as he unfastened it. Tossing it to the floor first and his pants followed suit. Next was his button down he undone. His shoes and everything until he was sporting nothing but that gold Rolex and rings that looked so aesthetically pleasing as it contrasted your skin. Lying a flat palm on your thigh when he crawled back up and parted them. He had been waiting for this moment. Biding his time in anticipation for what was to come..he’d often spend his shifts thinking about you. Trying to feign off his thoughts and desires because he knew he’d have you soon enough. There were so many things he wanted to do with you. On one hand, slow, sensual lovemaking underneath the candles…feeding you gentle strokes. And on the other hand? Pounding you into this mattress until you made a mess of him! Squirting and leaking all over this bed until you convulse of one too many powerful orgasms..

“So tell me, sweetheart? What is it that you want now? Just looking at ya’…I can tell you’re hungry for more. You’re leaking, baby..” teasing as he brushed over that mound and only a mere inch away from that clit. He’d resort to spreading you open again just for his own pleasure. Whispering and murmuring as he sucked his teeth in awe of the sight. He couldn’t believe it..how silky and wet you were.. “..goddamn..look at that. So beautiful..would look even better with me inside of you. Don’t ya’ agree, baby?” Prompting you to lick your lips and nod profusely. You were so needy, you were practically rutting yourself on thin air..seeing as how he refused to directly touch it. Afraid it’d send you flying over the edge if he did. He needed that reaction strictly for himself. He wanted to see you twitching, squirming and writhing all on his cock. “Yeah..fuck..I do..” those pathetic little whines only fueling him more. So much so, as he kept you speaking, he’d coil the base of his shaft and stroke upward as he awaited his answers. “Then convince me, baby. Tell me where ya’ want daddy to put it. Where you need me right now. C’mon, talk to me..”

and you spared no details! You’d quickly plead for him to spread you open and fill you full of his cock. To stretch you out and make you conform to his shape. What couldn’t fit, he better make you take it..that nut? He knew exactly where you wanted it. You wanted him to completely wreck you tonight!

“So that’s how it is? That’s what you feel?” “Yes, baby!..come fuck this pussy, please..” it was obvious that you were becoming anxious and Jean was aching so badly from his own edging that if he didn’t get inside of something soon, he was going to explode. So with one forceful tug, he’d bridge the gap of space between your bodies before placing a leg on your shoulder and folding you back.

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want..this is your dick after all.” Chuckling with a smile on his face, it didn’t take long before his tip was brushing against your slit and casually rubbing on that bud to further stimulate you. “So take it..” suddenly, that subtle teasing turned into full blown penetration! You’d find yourself stuffed to the brim and the gasp and expletives that simultaneously left both of your mouths signified just how good it felt. His thick length throbbing inside of your heat and that tight cunt clutching him upon entry. As if you two were designed for one another. “F-fuck..gonna start moving, baby..you ready?” He didn’t have to see your eyes to know your reaction..it was written all over your facial and body language. You’d give him the go ahead and seconds later, Jean would grasp your waist to keep you steady as he began thrusting up into you. Sounds of smacking skin along with faint moans arose and filled the air. He had to pace himself..go far slower than he would like to if he were going to last any amount of time. Long, deep, well paced strokes were the best move right now. And did he make certain you felt each one!

“G’ahh..so tight, baby..this pussy’s squeezing me..” tossing his head back on his shoulders, Jean would persist and push through the tight bundle of nerves..the sensation constricting his shaft and making him even more so vulnerable than before. He’d consistently dote on you, telling you how pretty you were taking his dick..how good you were opening for him and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up. Saying everything you needed to hear..cream began to pool around the rim of your opening; a result of the slow repetition of his cock slamming into you. Meanwhile, your legs and ankles rested on his broad shoulders. They’d tremble within his grasp as he laced them with sensual kisses. “You have any idea how good you make me feel, my love? How wet you are right now…I just wanna fill you up..I swear. Hell, I think you’d look so beautiful with my baby inside of ya’…” the low vibrato and his accent making the statement even sexier when he uttered it. The response was you twitching around him but not out of pain..you loved the idea. Being stuffed full of his seed, even if you weren’t exactly ready for the latter yet!

“Mmmph...I love when you nut in this pussy.” Declaring with your lips only inches apart. Eventually bridging the gap with soft, sensual pecks. Tongues swirling around and clashing with one another as strings of saliva formed between them. “Yeah? That’s what you want?” “Yes, baby. Keep fucking me. Make me take that dick!” Steadfast in your words, you’d claw at the pillows behind you..the only thing within your confined grasp as his movements progressed. He’d begin to speed up that dormant pace and get deeper into your core. It would seem that your lecherous words had pushed him to the next level..driving him to repeatedly stab at your sensitive core with deep, sharp, unrelenting thrusts. On top of rolling his fingers against your clit, drumming up more of that slick. The moment was perfect..the way your round tits swayed with each thrust, your skin riddled with wax and sweat, your legs coiling his waist..the only thing missing were your nails clawing into his back and marking him up. “J-Jeann…mm, gonna cum! Fuck!..” So he’d make the decision to untie your wrists and lift that blindfold. He needed to see your pretty face whilst he was in it. All of those authentic reactions..

“Then come, baby!..and look me in the eye when you do it.” Prompting you to release that shower of sweet rain all over him and while he was still buried to your hilt nonetheless. Only pushing him back when you could no longer keep him inside, and he’d retract to tap that tip against your slit. “I love when you squirt on this dick..feels so fucking good.” But your boyfriend wasn’t letting up..he was still vying for his own orgasm. Desperate and utterly desiring to fill you full of his seed. Repositioning once more, Jean hovered over your frame and pinned all your limbs back in one fell swoop. He couldn’t pretend to be composed any longer and that suave romantic had shifted to a salacious deviant..hungry to claim your womb for his own. That much apparent by his brutal thrusting and incessant growls as he took full dominion over you. Your feet and wrists were once again restrained as to avoid any attempts to stop him. But he knew you were equally aching for it..aching to be bred and stuffed full, so he’d persist. Spouting off lewd remarks and sloppy kisses to quell you. The bed jolted around with the headboard smacking the wall. Your bodies entangled as he folded you into that mating press. “You're gonna take it f’r me, sweetheart?! Take all this nut..it’s all yours..just tell me where you want me to put it, right now.” Through gritted teeth, he’d plead and try to maintain the last semblance of dominance he harbored because just as his resolve was fading, his stamina was slipping as well. Those thrusts became sporadic in rhythm and he was faltering in his speed. That once deep voice was a sending in pitch and Jean was on the brink of collapse as he held out for a few more strokes. “Gah! Fuck..so tight, I’m coming, baby!—“ “Nut in me, please..give it to me!” And with that command, he no longer felt the need to restrain himself. Coming to a complete halt, you’d watch those deep set eyes become wider and his body stiffen up. He was frozen in place but that long rope of warm semen spilled into your womb. He’d release your hands and you’d be quick to quell him with a palm to the face, thanking him for it and telling him how amazing it felt.

“I need a kiss, c’mere..”

“Of course…”

finally back into reality and consciousness, you’d join together one more time for a searing, passionate peck that solidified your love. Right here in this room, he made certain that you knew you were his forever and always. Regardless of your pasts, who may have been in it before or otherwise. What mattered most was the here and now.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve skipped the promise ring. I wanna marry you right now.” Prompting you to chuckle into your hand before stringing a finger down his chest. “Well that’s quite the jump.” But rest assured, you’d be right here until the actual day came along. Proposal or not, you knew who you wanted to spend the rest of forever with so for the time being, you could revel in his presence and never grow tired. You could definitely get used to it.

“I love you, Jean..” “I love ya’ more, sweetheart.”

and he’d spend all night of the rest of his life proving so.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@honeybleed @spaceforher @dezibou @nanamiscunt @sweethoneycream

[atticrissfinch]

No Soul to Sell (dark!joel miller x reader) (18+) (oneshot)

pairing: dark!ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel miller x fem!reader summary: divorced joel is fucking his way through his newly acquired bachelor status, when he remembers you—the (recent) ex-girlfriend of his son—are now an option for him.  CAUTION: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NONCON WARNING.   Warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT] Joel POV, misogynist!joel, slut!joel, general evil menace!joel, dubcon that devolves into explicit noncon mid-act, age gap (unspecified, but joel is old enough to be reader’s father), mentions of infidelity (joel is a lying cheater, reader has been cheated on previously—not by joel), little/no prep, coerced unprotected piv, noncon creampie, lying/manipulation, sexist and derogatory/degrading language  word count: ~2.8K | ao3  a/n: here’s my contribution to @chloeangelic’s divorced!slut!joel challenge. It was supposed to be 1.5k or less, but daddy chloe gave me special permission to go over. she also convinced me to write a fucked up alternate ending to this already fucked up fic, and I’ll provide the warnings for that before the alt ending, below the initial fic.  Masterlist | Kofi A little post-fic drabble for those interested :)

Joel was acutely aware of his perpetual need to keep his dick wet. Hell, it’s the primary reason his wife left him in the first place. 

Whenever the old bitch went frigid, he was forced to dip his wick elsewhere. Preferably somewhere young and pretty. If you put a gun to his head, he would admit that the papers weren’t a shock. He wasn’t exactly the most diligent at covering his tracks, and his wife wasn’t that stupid. So she had them drawn up the day she discovered he had been stepping out. 

He shrugged it off, said some less-than-polite words, and—after some nauseating mediation proceedings—signed the fuckers. Packed his shit and went on his way to his recently secured apartment. 

It wasn’t until after about a week of being by himself that he came to terms with how shitty being alone really was. Having to actually put in work to get sex again was a chore. When he was married, if he’d wanted it badly enough, his wife would usually give it up one way or another. But now he was severely lacking in a live-in cock warmer, and he needed it. He needed a warm hole to fuck, or he felt like he was going to shrivel up and turn to dust. After a few days without one, he would start getting jittery, and no amount of coming in a tube sock would satiate his carnal, irrepressible need for pussy. Any pussy. 

And now, three months into his bachelor lifestyle, he’s already worked his way through most of his ex-wife’s (less loyal) friends, and all available female acquaintances that he could reasonably plow into. He’s run dry to the point where he’s started fucking the better pussies a second time. Since the divorce, Joel has learned that he really doesn’t like repeats anymore. He likes the thrill of sinking into a new hole, the challenge of what makes them tick. As soon as he cracks the code, the mystery is gone. 

One evening, he’s lazily scrolling through the contacts on his phone, his dick once again fueling his decisions, when he comes across you. 

Of course. It’s so obvious, he’s frustrated he hasn’t thought of you before. He knew you’d always had a thing for him. He had for you as well. The moment the two of you met, there was an energy between you. Purely sexual. He saw it in your eyes, he felt it in his dick. You had wanted him. And he had wanted to give it to you. But both of you were well aware that the other was off-limits, especially with your respective partners at each other’s sides. One of those partners being his own son. 

A son he never truly connected with. A mama’s boy through and through. Sensitive and soft like her, but selfish and surly like him. 

And ultimately, to Joel, a disappointment. 

But now. Now that his wife is out of the picture. Now that Preston is out of your picture…

Joel: Hey you. Would you mind if I stopped by tonight? I think we’re overdue for a talk. 

Not even an hour later, Joel is knocking at your door. 

You open it, and you’re nothing short of a fuckable vision, clad in your black cotton leggings and your tank top, hands glistening and damp from what he parses is water from the dishes you’re in the middle of doing. 

“Sorry, just finishing up,” You pardon yourself, bending at the waist like a fucking siren beckoning him as you pull up the door on your dishwasher to latch it shut and start the cycle.  

He can’t resist it. Not for another second. He can hear, feel your breath hitch as he presses dangerously close against your back, your stomach hitting the lip of the counter as his breath fans out over your neck. 

“Joel…” You start to object as he slides his hands down your torso, landing on your hips and rolling his own into yours to show you just how quickly you’re getting him where he desperately craves to be. “What are you doing?”

“What we’ve both wanted to do since we first laid eyes on each other,” Joel replies huskily, ghosting his lips over your ear to nip at your earlobe. 

You half-heartedly attempt to bring your shoulder to your ear to nudge him away, but he just gives a small chuckle. “Am I wrong about that?” He bites kisses down the expanse of your neck, flexing his fingers around your hips. “Have you not been fuckin’ me with those beautiful eyes since we met?”

“We can’t do this,” You puff out, your breath already shallow with your own desire. 

Joel’s fingers squeeze heavily at your hips as his fully hard cock grinds between your asscheeks in those sinful leggings, resulting in your head lulling back on your shoulders with a moan. 

“We’re both single,” Joel counters, “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

And then Joel is spinning you around, crashing your lips together in a hungry, brutal kiss. His tongue doesn’t request entry, it just takes it, filling the expanse of your mouth for his own exploration and pleasure and tasting of his filthiest dreams. His hands rake up your tank top over your tits for his mouth to devour, your head falling back again as obscene noises spill out of it. 

Joel hitches your leg at his hip and drags his cock up your cunt, pulling a whimper from you that has him feeling feral, crazed enough to want to rip right through your clothes. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” You pant out, shoving some space between the two of you in a way that makes Joel want to show you exactly what he thinks of that little move at this current juncture. But he huffs a sigh, caging you in with his hands gripping the counter at your back, but leaving precious inches of atmosphere between you. 

“I don’t wanna wait,” Joel growls out, grinding his teeth. 

“Look, I just need to know something, okay?”

Joel struggles not to roll his eyes in impatience, forcing himself into some semblance of concern. “Alright. What do you need to know, darlin’?”

Your eyes flutter momentarily at the name, but you push through. “When Preston told me about you and your wife—”

“Ex,” He corrects with gusto. 

“Right, sorry, ex-wife. Well, he made it sound like she left you…” You hesitate a moment before exhaling, “Because you cheated.”

And Joel isn’t daft, so he slides his hands around you and nuzzles at your nose with his own. “Darlin’, that’s the opposite of what happened. She cheated on me.”

It’s as easy as breathing. 

He can feel the tension sapping from your body at the words, so he continues. “And maybe it makes me a bad man, but all I’ve had the strength to do lately is try to fuck her, and her unfaithfulness, out of my system.”

“I get that,” You reply softly, your fingers creeping up to lock into his flannel and your eyes meeting his with only slight trepidation. 

Once he sees he has you reeled in, he goes for the kill. “And could you think of any tastier revenge for what he did to you? For takin’ after his mama like that? Steppin’ out on you?”

A rattled shame shimmers in your eyes as he abruptly brings your reality to light. “Joel—”

“I know. I know all about it. His mama told me before we split.”

Your eyes dip down, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. 

“Hey,” Joel coaxes, tipping your chin back up to look at him. “Wouldn’t you like to get back at them? Cause I can’t think of a better way. You get to fuck the older, more mature version of him. The man who brought that cheating motherfucker into this world. And I get to slide into someone so much fuckin’ tighter and younger and cuter than her. It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do,” Joel whispers, and determines that you have had quite enough conversation, silencing you with his mouth on yours again. This time you melt into him, clutching his flannel as hard as he hopes your pussy will be on his cock in a few blistering moments. 

You’re face down on your mattress in record time, Joel wrenching off your leggings and underwear and shoving his own bottom half free of clothing before pulling your now bare hips into his throbbing cock. 

“C-condoms in the nightstand,” You stutter out. 

He groans. “Don’t make me, darlin’. Wanna feel you.”

“Joel,” You protest again, and he’s starting to really fucking hate how his name sounds on your tongue when you’re reprimanding him like that. It reminds him of his ex-wife, every fucking time he did something she didn’t like. 

Joel, stop tracking mud on the hardwood. 

Joel, stop shoving things in the closet. 

Joel, stop trying to put it in my ass. 

Just non-stop nagging, nagging, nagging. 

Joel shakes his mind clear and refocuses on the delicious, plump ass raised in the air for him. 

“Aren’t you on birth control, darlin’?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then that’s all we need. How about you just trust me and we’ll have some fun, huh?”

“Okay,” He hears you mutter into your arm. “Just pull out, please. I still don’t wanna risk—” Your words are cut off by an almost shrieking moan of your own making as Joel fucks into you without warning, your insides clenching around him like a fucking vice. 

Joel’s own moan rings out loud, animal, as your slick insides open up around him, parting easily as he starts to fuck you with abandon. “So fuckin’ tight, darlin’. Squeezin’ this cock just right. So fuckin’ good.”

You mewl into the sheets, wrinkling them with your fingers as he ravages your insides with ferocity. 

“Knew this pussy would be good to me. Open up so easy for this big cock. You openin’ up easy for me, darlin’?”

You whine, lost for speech as his fingers bruise at your hips, smooth down your spine under your shirt to keep you pressed into the bed for him. 

The sound of your skin slapping together penetrates the room, and Joel is getting tired of only hearing his own voice. He likes when they talk him up, tell him how good he feels, how much better he is than their husbands or boyfriends. He prods at you between breaths, “C’mon, talk to me, sweetheart. Been fuckin’ a lot of bitches like you since my split, you really gonna let them show you up? You don’t wanna go down in my little black book as a boring piece of ass, do ya? Keep it interestin' for me.”

He thinks he hears you whine mutedly, “‘S good.”

But that’s it. Just more of Joel’s grunts, more skin-on-skin, more of your shitty bed frame squeaking. 

Boring, boring, boring. 

Joel feels his façade sloughing off of him in sheets as your pussy grips him, taking him all the way in and soaking him an amount that he thinks you should probably be embarrassed about, with how desperate you are for him and how little you’re showing it. 

“Just a piece of fuckin’ meat for me, huh? Nothin’ to say. No brains, no nothin’. Just a fucked-out little cocksleeve whore.”

He hears you make a weird noise beneath him and then your voice finally rising and skipping with the tempo of his harsh thrusts, “Joel…I’m not sure I like this.”

He knew this was coming. He just laughs it off, redoubling his imprints on your hips. “Oh, you don’t like this, huh? What don’t you like?”

“I-I don’t think I—”

“No, lemme just stop you there, sweetheart,” Joel growls out, halting his thrusts when he’s pressed balls deep inside you, holding you flush against his hips.  “Lemme stop you, ‘cause I already know you don’t think. You’re a fuckin’ woman.”

You squeak below him as he picks his pace right back up, punishing your cervix for the sins of your protests as he blabbers on, “You were created to be a vessel for cock. Holes to fuck. Everything else is secondary. This is what you were made for. This doesn’t make you happy?”

“I’m really not having fun anymore, Joel! Please stop!” You plead, lashing out a hand to push against his hip, only to be slapped away. Joel’s face turns vengeful as he secures a hand around the back of your neck and forces your hips down onto the bed, pinning you with his full body weight and knocking the air out of your chest as his cock continues to split you open. 

“Well, lucky for me, I’m having enough fun for the both of us right now. I’d say that’s all that matters.”

“I said stop!” You let out a violent sob, using all your strength to buck up against him to no avail. 

Joel scoffs, bringing a hand around to shove four thick fingers into your incessant mouth, cutting off any comprehensible dissent from you. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. I’m gettin’ what I came for.”

Your muffled screams propel him forward into your trembling wet heat, grunting when your walls clutch him as if your life, your sanity depends on it. And shit if that doesn’t make him that much harder.  

“Oh, fuck yeah, keep squeezin’ me like that baby, just like that. Don’t wanna hear a goddamn word about you not droolin’ for this cock, darlin’. Cause I can fuckin’ feel it. Droolin’ from your mouth and your pussy.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that you’re biting into his fingers as you scream over them, but for reasons foreign to him prior to this point, the pain spurs him on. Your saliva drips down his fingers, flowing in rivulets down his wrist as he hammers into your cunt. 

“Not sure why you’re fightin’ me, when I gave you the chance to speak the fuck up. The one time I don’t want a bitch to shut her goddamn trap and you refused to do it. ‘F you’re not gonna make it worth my while, I’ll do it my damn self,” He grunts, holding open your jaw with his crooked fingers and railing into you with every ounce of resentment he has for his ex, for his son, and for every cunt who dared not impress him. 

Joel feels his release building, his cock twitching inside you as he fucks your tightening hole, but he begs his body to hold out just a little longer. He pistons his hips in shallower thrusts as he levels with your ear, speaking over your whimpers, “I got a little confession, sweetheart. I lied. I did cheat on my wife.”

You whine, sob around his fingers, bending your knees against the mattress as you try and get leverage, but Joel’s smart enough to know you’re no match for his strength. The new position you’ve ended up in has Joel fucking even deeper into you, your keening growing more unhinged as Joel takes and takes and takes. 

“Yeah, I cheated on that bitch over and over and over,” He spits, punctuating each repetition with a relentless slam of his hips into your ass. “And now that I’ve been where he’s been, felt what you got to offer, I can see why my son cheated on you, too.” He thrusts into you one last, brutal time, looping his free arm your neck to hold you in place as your sobs go quiet, more like resignation. Like defeat. 

Joel’s forehead presses into the back of your neck as his cock pulses inside you, filling you with his load and claiming you for himself. He grunts out, “I know you wanted me to pull out, but…well, shit, I didn’t wanna. Want you to remember this.”

You finally go limp underneath him, and Joel hums a rumbling sound of approval. “That’s right. Just let it happen. All filled up with me now. What would Preston say? Spreadin’ your legs for his father, wringin’ his cock dry for his come?”

His fingers slip out of your mouth, drenched and a little pruned with purpling divots from your teeth adorning them. You just sniffle, your head collapsing into the sheets upon Joel relinquishing his hold. 

“You stupid bitches never learn,” He mutters, groaning as his cock slips free of your clutches and lifting his weight off of you. He watches you take your first full-chested breath since he pinned you down, and it looks a little pathetic to him. When you don’t make an effort to move, Joel just goes about pulling himself back together. He leans against your bedroom door frame, studying the rise and fall of your body with each breath, his come leaking out of your spent cunt, the spots on your hip where he guarantees color will bloom where his fingers had been. 

“All the same,” He mumbles. “All of ya. You’re nothin’ but fodder. Spread you out, devour you bit by bit.”

You lay silent, but he knows you hear him. 

“And if there ain’t nothin’ left of ya when I’m finished,” He says, shrugging a little as he turns to leave, “far as I’m concerned, that’s when I know I done my job right.”

—-

Post-fic drabble

Alternate Ending

Further warnings/tags: noncon piss!kink (f receiving), disrespect/violation of someone in a presumed catatonic or dissociative state

word count: ~500

a/n: Chloeangelic is 100% to blame for this. I was fully content with the original ending, and then she said “but what about piss kink?? Maybe??” and I’m nothing if not a subby little bitch for her, so here it is. 

----

“You stupid bitches never learn,” He mutters, groaning as his cock slips free of your clutches and lifting his weight off of you. He watches you take your first full-chested breath since he pinned you down, and it looks a little pathetic to him. When you don’t make an effort to move, Joel just goes about pulling himself back together.

But he stops. Takes in the sight of you. You look so goddamn helpless. 

“Hey,” He prompts, shaking your foot in search of a response from you. You don’t budge. You don’t speak. The only signs of life are your tear-filled, periodically blinking eyes and the undulation of your breathing. 

He thinks you may be in shock or something. Typical woman. 

Something about that pisses him off. Deep inside the darkest recesses of his psyche, he craves a response from you. And you’re not giving it. 

As he ponders how to earn that response, nature poses its own suggestion for him. He bats the idea around in his head. His gaze lingers on your bare ass, your exposed back, your overall catatonic state. He thinks about his wife—ex-wife—and every time she complained that he was too rough with her, that he asked too much of her, that it seemed like he didn’t care about her. 

Well, fuck her, maybe he fucking didn’t. 

Rage flares up inside him again, staring at your pitiful, fucked out body. And he decides to just release it. 

Propped up on his knees between your spread thighs, flaccid cock in hand, he expels a cathartic sigh as he starts to relieve himself. 

He expects you to bolt up the second the hot, wet pressure hits your back, but you are surprisingly unphased. He cocks his head to the side as his piss soaks the back of your rucked-up shirt, darkening the white and bleeding up the ribbed fabric. 

He tilts the head of his cock down, his piss shooting against the globes of your ass and splashing back a little on impact. His eyes go dark as he aims for the crack of your ass, devouring the sight of it seeping down to the creampie he made of your sorry cunt. The substances intermingle on the wet spot directly below the opening of your pussy where you’d already made a mess on the sheets with your combined fluids. Something about adding one more to the mix has him transfixed. Less upset at your lack of reaction. 

He’s actually disappointed when he feels his cock emptying, sputtering out the final remnants of his piss directly toward your creamy slit. 

Satisfaction settles in his chest for the first time in a long while…maybe since before his divorce. Seeing a woman totally destroyed by his own hands, his own dick. A phantom shiver vibrates down his spine at the magnitude of this self-discovery, and he rolls his neck in a circle as he stuffs himself back into his pants. 

He flicks off the lights, leaving you reeking in a puddle of his come and piss, and contemplating whether he should call his son to come find you. 

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[moonstruckme]

hi! could i get james potter fluff where they’re both just taking a stroll or they’re ice skating and reader suddenly slips and lands on their knee and gets a huge scab on their knee. reader plays it off saying she’s fine but she doesn’t notice that her knee is slowly bleeding and james freaks out? 😭

aka me, I SLIPPED ON ICE AND MY KNEE STARTED BLEEDING TODAY

Ahh sorry babe! Here's some Jamie to heal you <3 (I have no idea how this got so long sorry)

cw: mentions of blood

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Whoa, you okay?” James skids to a stop beside you, ice shavings flying. 

You grin at him, embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m good.” You ignore the burning in your knee, wobbling back to your feet. James sets a tentative hand under your forearm to steady you. “Sorry.” 

He makes a face. You know him well enough by now to know it means he doesn’t want you to apologize, but he knows you well enough to know that saying it is pointless. The two of you set off again. You’ve got one arm in James’ hold and the other extended cautiously to the side for balance, but James Good-At-Everything Potter doesn’t even need to look in front of him as he skates. He glides along smoothly, maneuvering you both around kids with little plastic helpers and other inexperienced skaters like yourself with little effort. If he weren’t so himself, it’d be pretty irksome. 

“What were we talking about?” you ask, laughing awkwardly. 

“You were telling me about the cat outside your work,” James reminds you. 

“Oh, yeah.” You shake your head at yourself a little, looking down at your skates just like James had warned you not to. They start to slip out from under you, but he holds you up until your right yourself. “Sorry, I’ve been going on about that forever.” 

“No, it’s cute,” he says. “Don’t hold out on me, what happened to her? Did she get a name?” 

“She did.” You glance at him, and he’s smiling encouragingly. James is always smiling at you. It’s incentive to keep talking. 

You tell him more about the cat, and then he tells you about the puppy his parents adopted when he moved out, which he felt rather cheated about because he’d always wanted one when he lived at home. You tell him about the slew of fish you’d had as a child, which sparks a conversation about odd pets, which is how you learn about his friend’s pet toad. James seems to have a lot of friends. You’re starting to keep track of a few names, but sometimes they swirl together and you can’t remember who’s who. He doesn’t hold it against you. 

You’ve only been on a few dates with James, but this is typically how they go. You show up all self-conscious and tense, and then he gives you one of his easy smiles and suddenly it’s like you’ve no reason to be nervous at all. James loves to talk, and you, oddly, seem to love talking with him as well. You enjoy the talking a lot more than the skating, and when your time slot on the rink is up you have to feign a bit more disappointment than you feel. As far as you’re concerned, the main event is going to be the hot chocolate you plan to have after this. 

“Let me get that,” James says when he’s undone the laces to both his skates and you’re still struggling with your first one. He kneels in front of you, deft fingers easing apart the knot and then whipping the laces skillfully out of each of their little hooks. He starts to pull the skate off your foot, but pauses when his eyes flit up, catching on your knee. 

He hisses through his teeth. “Sweetheart, what happened here?” 

“Hm?” You bend over so your head is closer to his, trying to see what he’s talking about. Your leggings are wet through with blood, a giant ugly splotch around your knee. “Oh,” you say quietly. 

“Oh,” James agrees, teasing tone at odds with the uncharacteristic frown pinching his features. “That looks rough. Do you think it happened when you fell?” 

“Which time?” you joke.

His laugh is half-hearted. A diligent effort. He starts pulling up the one side of your leggings, working them up your calf. He hisses again, sympathy mingled with concern, when the bloody mess of your knee is unveiled. It’s almost impossible to tell where the cut is with the skin around it stained so thoroughly. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound as James peels the fabric of your legging away carefully, but when his thumb presses on the skin next to the wound you wince. 

He inhales softly, seemingly as startled as you are, and gives you an remorseful look. “Sorry, lovely. How badly does it hurt?” 

“Not bad,” you fib, though exposed to the cold air, the burning is starting to get to you. 

James looks like he knows, mouth pulling to the side compassionately. His eyebrows come down behind his glasses as he tries to get a look at the wound. You try to ignore the tingling that results from him gripping the back of your knee the way he is. Tenderly, with more care than you’re used to. 

“Alright.” He gives the side of your calf a little pat, rising to his feet. “I’m going to go find someone who works here.” 

“Oh, James,” you protest as he walks away, “it’s really not that bad. I’ll take care of it at home!” 

“Stay put!” he calls over his shoulder. 

As if you’d ever leave without him. 

You try not to fidget while he’s gone, feeling awkward and pathetic sitting all bloody and alone while other groups taking off their skates chat around you. James returns a short time later with a sullen-looking employee in tow. You give them a tight smile, and James returns it with twice the gusto, talking up the teen worker who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else. He’ll come around. You doubt anyone can resist the James Potter charm. 

“Such excellent service they have here,” James says lightly, sitting beside you on the metal bench. He sets a casual hand on your knee, putting a stop to the bouncing you didn’t realize you’d started. “I asked for a first aid kit and they gave me a whole Martin.” 

Martin declines to comment. He unpackages a tiny antiseptic wipe, going after your bloody knee with unfeeling determination. 

You bite down on your lip, and James’ dark brows lower, his eyes flickering between you and Martin indecisively. You give him a small smile that you hope says Please don’t say anything to this poor kid on my behalf, even if I potentially start crying. James seems to get the general idea, returning your smile and intertwining his fingers with yours consolingly. 

One benefit of Martin’s vicious treatment is that it’s over quickly. Before long, he’s slapping a plaster on your cut and telling you both to let someone (not him, presumably) know if you need anything else. A man of few words to the last. 

James takes his place before you can move, kneeling in front of you again. 

“Is that really it?” he asks disbelievingly, delicately stroking the edge of the small plaster with his thumb. 

“I told you it wasn’t bad,” you tease softly. 

He blows out a big breath, blinking up at you. “I thought for sure it was going to need stitches. How do you bleed so much? You scared the shit out of me, sweetheart.” 

“Sorry.” 

The look he shoots you is about as stern as he ever gets, disapproval buried beneath a heap of fondness. “Don’t,” he says. 

You fail to hide a smile, and he fails to hide his reciprocation, dropping his chin back towards your knee. It really looks now like you’ve both been quite dramatic, the blood all cleaned up and a tiny plaster covering what turned out to be only a small scrape. From the feel of it you know it’ll be horribly bruised in the morning, but it really was never anything too dire.

“Do you think you can straighten it?” 

“No,” you deadpan. “I think I’ll probably need crutches, actually.” 

James looks up, startled and delighted by your joking. “Yeah?” There’s a breathless sort of laughter in his tone. “What do you think, ten days’ bed rest?” 

“Oh, at least.” 

“Mm, and I suppose someone will have to bring you all your meals as well. Feed you chocolates and pastries and all that, keep you company, serenade you from time to time.” 

Your lips twitch. You can feel your face warming faintly. “Seems best.” 

James nods, aiming for serious but missing by a mile with that ever-present curve in his lips. “Well, I guess we’d better get you home, then,” he says, worming his arm under your knees. 

You don’t realize what he’s up to until the other one wraps securely around your back, and by then it’s too late. 

“James!” you gasp as he hoists you up, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Put me down.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll still stop for hot chocolate. I’d never deprive you of that.”

[vadersassistant]

Hiiii

wo dering if you could do an enemies to lover anakin imagine. kind of like friends to enemies to lovers or something like that and it ends in them making out o whatever you are comfortable with.

Anyways thank youuu

Denial One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: After venturing into a Sith Temple to try and find an edge on the current war, (Y/N) meets her enemy, Lord Vader, the man who killed her best friend and secret lover. He has been hunting both her and her alias down for months, following her across the galaxy, but little does she know, he has no plans to kill her. Takes place in the temple seen in the Star Wars Rebels season two finale. Reader was previously a Jedi and is in hiding due to order 66.

Warnings: Make out session

A/N: (Y/N) does not know Vader is Anakin, and Vader does not know (Y/N) is the Fugitive he has been searching for. This is once again a mix of suited Vader and nightfall Vader. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.

The temple was eerie, an odd feeling passing by with each step you took. It was the opposite of the one I grew up in, representing everything I was told to dislike, and yet I was here anyways. I had made up my mind to fight instead of continuing to run from the problem. I wasn’t a rebel, but I wasn’t an imperial either. I was the middle ground, a former Jedi with a new identity, a mask to shield my face so that I could live freely, but the saber still gave it away. I was good, too good to be a civilian having fun with an old relic, even though some still used them publicly. Some, as in him.

The Jedi fell and Lord Vader rose out of thin air. There was no preface, no foreshadowing, he just came, and everyone bowed their heads.

To outsiders he was a military leader trained in combat, who happened to use an imaginary power. To force users, like Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and I, he was a Sith. We all knew it the second he began hunting us down. He wanted the Jedi dead and made it clear when he began searching for my alias as well. Everyone knew who she was, I was put on every single imperial security watch available, but I evaded it all I could. I forged a new saber, so that they couldn’t track me that way, and told people about how the female jedi on the Holonets from the clone wars died. The only people who truly knew were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, since they too had done something similar. He was Ben, she was Ashla, and I gained the name Fugitive, a mask being the only way to keep track of my identity.

I couldn’t count how many storm-troopers I had killed by now, just that I did. I was forced to, to keep myself alive, because he wanted me turned in. I was always told to run, to flee from Vader because of what he’s done, but all I wanted was for the man to wind up dead. A lust for revenge had developed ever since I learned what he did to my best friend, Anakin Skywalker.

I don’t even know how he could have killed a warrior like him, but he did and now he’s gone. Slaughtered like any other while trying to save people in the temple, something someone with his character would have done naturally. The worst part is that everyone he was trying to save is dead too, and that he could have escaped with us, had he not done what he did. He had a wife, Senator Amidala, a good friend of mine, who also died that night, although I wasn’t sure if they ended on good terms.

The two had been arguing for a while, he believed she was cheating on him with Obi Wan, although she continued to deny it along with everyone else. I was the only one who he talked to about his problems willingly, even Kenobi would have to go through reading his mind to talk about personal issues. It was only when Anakin died that the truth came out, that being that Anakin was right, and she was seeing Kenobi.

I hadn’t recognized him after that point. I knew he was afraid he would be kicked out of the Jedi order if we found out he was dating another woman. Even further, the fact he knowingly was allowing the affair to happen, but it occurred anyways, and he lost everything with it. That was consequence enough, he didn’t need me to yell at him any further for going that far.

Still, I was angry, because I cared about Anakin.

And also loved him.

I denied it for years, the helpless prodding’s from Ahsoka when the two of us would spend hours upon hours with each other. We carried out the entire war effort, working extremely close together on missions. It was no surprise that I liked him, he had even mentioned subtly what things would be like if he hadn’t met her. It sounded like he regretted it, but I had no clue, due to us being force users.

I now stood in front of the man who took him away, the one that gutted him in the chest like a fish with no care whatsoever. The man that had been hunting me down under both my names since the night of the fall, the one that was known for murdering everyone in his path. I don’t know how he found me, I had a feeling we were being followed, but I didn’t care. We needed the Holocron inside of the temple, and Ahsoka now had it in hand. I could sense their distraught, both behind me looking at the Sith in front of us. They didn’t want to fight him; they were afraid to fight him. I felt differently, looking at his mask through the visors of my own.

“It was foretold that you would be here, our long-awaited meeting has come at last."

“This meeting is over,” Ahsoka said.

“Are you so sure?” the Sith questioned through the modulated voice his mask provided him, as I stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked me, his breath becoming short.

“Leave."

“No," he shook his head. "Don’t do this."

“Leave. Now.”

I looked up at the temple’s ceiling as the walls started to drop down. It was collapsing on itself, since the Holocron had been taken from the Obelisk. There wasn’t much to do, but I knew I didn’t want to pull them into this. I turned around and outstretched a hand.  

Ahsoka screamed as I force pushed both her and Obi-Wan back while the temple’s walls crashed down. I saw her figure fly back just before the drop and felt her gently land. There was a ship, they could leave, I would worry about myself after I killed him.

“We’re finishing this here,” I said. "I know you've been hunting me for the past months."

“You are courageous, unlike your friends,” the Sith mused. “Hateful.”

“You killed my best friend," I pointed out. "I want you to experience that same pain."

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he reminded. "Your confidence dilutes your ability to make rational decisions."

“I am no Jedi.”

“Then who are you? Your saber is unlike any I have ever seen, an identity successfully hidden behind a helm.”

“That’s none of your business, why have you been hunting me?” I asked. I felt the pressure of the Dark Side creeping against my mind's barriers, he was trying to invade.

“You would make a wonderful apprentice in the dark side,” Vader said. "You have already abandoned your training as a Jedi."

“I don’t side with murderers.”

“And yet you are one. I have seen your way of fighting Fugitive; you have killed countless of our troops and inquisitors.”

“Your Inquisitorious is an embarrassment, and I will never join you, not after what you did,” I called my saber to my hand, igniting it.

“Then you will die.”

There was this feeling of fear that attempted to wash over me, like he was attempting to throw me off, but I wasn't thinking about it anymore.

I ran full speed at him, force pushing myself up off the ground and into the air to try and put myself on the offensive. My blade met his right over his helmet, as he angled me back and I landed behind him. My automatic response was to try and swing for his legs, a move he evaded but had been surprised by. I knew I needed to be careful with how I played things. He would try and tire me out by just playing the defensive, but I also didn’t get that tired frow much stamina I built up during the war. Vader was also bigger, and stronger, meaning I’d need to use his weight to my advantage. I was quick, less stable, and grounded, and more agile in my movements.

We continued to take shots at each other, as he seemingly began to test me. It was a constant switch from the right to the left, bashing at each other from different angles and walking along with it. It was something Anakin and I always did, and it almost felt familiar. For whatever reason, I could feel myself getting into the rhythm Skywalker and I got into when we would train every day. After a certain point I would always switch my grip and force him to back off, and I did it purely out of muscle memory, shoving the Sith back.

“Your anger focuses you,” he commented. “Join me and I can enhance that power.”

“You killed him, the man I loved, do you truly believe I would ever consider that?”

“He is gone for a reason,” Vader said.

“He was the chosen one!” I shouted, interlocking lightsabers in a pursuit for power over the other. "You know why he lost his life?! Because he was trying to save everyone else, instead of actually caring for himself for once."

“(Y/N)."

I stumbled back immediately, hearing that name leave his mouth,

"What?"

My eyes widened beneath the visors, letting my guard down for just a moment.

It was all he needed.

I felt his immense force break through my walls and invade my mind, clawing through my memories and thoughts like a file. Not only that, but he immediately took me to the ground. It was quick, as he now straddled me, muscular thighs resting over my lower waist. Both my arms were pinned to either side with by the force, my saber in his hand.

I grunted, struggling under him and thrusting against his cod piece hoping it would make him budge but it barely made a difference. I couldn’t do a thing, as the Sith reached for my mask and pressed down on the sides. I felt it depressurize, as his gloved digits lifted it off my head, and I looked into his mask with my own eyes.

"How do you know my name?" I asked angrily as I fought underneath him to free myself.

There was no way of telling what he truly felt in that moment, holding the helm silently, breathing being the only indication he was still alive. I continued to try and do everything to get out of his grasp, but the Sith only sat there and took me in, his body heat lingering over my own. I felt like a mess, wondering where Ahsoka and Obi-Wan might be right now, realizing why Anakin lost his life to this man. I didn’t know how he knew my name, my real name, the one that no one had called me in months. I was fully pinned down, not giving up until I saw him reach for his own helmet.

"What are you do—"

My throat ran dry, amber eyes piercing through my body like a blade.

"Anakin."

It was him, with brown hair that held golden streaks just above his armor.

"(Y/N)."

Hearing his voice sent a shiver down my entire back, as I shuddered underneath him.

“I thought you died—they said Vader killed you—" there were tears welling up in my eyes, looking up at him.

“I am alive."

“Why did you turn?"

“The Jedi council was using us, Obi-Wan lied to me about Padme (Y/N), they were having an affair. But you know that already.”

“Obi Wan told us,” I trailed off.

“I know.”

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“No, that was never my intent," he emphasized lowly.

“So, what will you do?” I questioned.

“After separating myself from the order, I reflected much upon it,” Anakin started. "And came to terms with several of my mistakes."

“What mistakes?”

Still straddling me Anakin leaned down, placing his hands by either sides of my head and lowering himself to my ear.

“I was blindly dating filthy senator, when I had the love of my life right next to me the entire time."

"What do you mean?" I emphasized each word, my abdomen tensing as he got so close to me.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of my future and imagine you by my side. I told myself it was our strong bond causing me to think of you constantly, due to the amount of time we spent together, but now, I feel completely different."

"Anakin," my heart was racing, as he continued to whisper into my ear.

"Maker, I missed you so much."

He was just trying to be friendly, that's all this was.

"Now, I know you are not that naive," he let out a deep chuckle, reading my mind.

"Is this your way of coercing me into joining the dark side?" I said softly, trying to play it off.

"There is no need to coerce you (Y/N), your heart is already doing all the work," Anakin told me. "All there is to do is to make up for lost time."

"No.."

"Continuing to deny it is only stalling the inevitable," he spoke in a playful way. "Your hatred towards the one you believed to be my killer only proves it more."

"I—" I cut myself off, as Anakin moved his head, now right over mine.

"What is it?" he asked me, his golden eyes flicking from my lips up to my eyes in quick fashion.

I gave in, nodding to his silent question and feeling the force lift off my hands.

Anakin pressed his lips to mine as I lifted my head up and met him midway. His robotic hand came down to my waist, the other combing through my hair as he helped hold my head steady. It was delicate and prepared, goosebumps crawling over my skin as his weight pressed me onto the cold temple floors. He was an expert in the way he worked around my mouth, the first time I had ever kissed anyone to begin with.

To think such a sacred place would be ruined due to our own shenanigans.

A Jedi and a Sith, making out in a temple with no care for sentiment.

His lips were chapped yet soft, and the more breaths we took between kissing the more swollen they became. Anakin didn’t seem to care though, continuing to go down on my neck allowing me to breath. He wasn’t going too far, but it was enough for the occasion, leaving marks I that wouldn’t leave for days.

It was madness.

Everything around us screamed in pleasure, the force happily chiming along with the two sides agreeing on something, even if it wasn’t an argument. Anakin had changed, and I couldn’t decide if it was for better or for worse.

If only those two could see me now, making love to the man that we had been running from for months. The copious amounts of rage had turned to attraction in a blink of an eye, rejoicing in his presence as my hand pressed against his tunic and I felt his abdomen underneath the fabric. He was such light and yet the darkness itself, drowning me in it as we sunk into a pool of ecstasy.

The cold stone floors were soon heated, as the temple grew humid and we both simultaneously agreed to take our tops off. It was the definition of multitasking, as I took off his armor and tunic, leaving behind a black pair of pants, and his boots. With the force he slipped my top off, gaining access to my collar bone and gracing it with his mouth. There was a possessive feeling in the air, as he took in my body for the first time with his own eyes as I did to him.

"You are so beautiful, it is intoxicating."

I felt myself smiling, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his neck, the both of us kissing deeply. This was it, holding our breath as we enjoyed one another, but the force was warning the both of us.

The temple shook, I almost forgot it was collapsing.

"We need to escape before we become trapped inside," Anakin said. "My ship is outside."

"And you assume I'm coming?"

"I know you are."

I laughed, acknowledging his foresight. We put on our clothes hurriedly yet thoroughly, as someone trained to handle life or death would. In truth, that was what we stood for, as Jedi and Sith both came together as one, in ways that would be frowned upon.

Except we didn't care.

We weren't denying it any longer.

Back in business since the recent Ahsoka episode. Hope you all enjoyed!

[justabigassnerd]

Protective Friend

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,182

Warnings - physical violence, mentions of cheating, blood, angst, mentions of Goose, fluff

Summary - after someone picks on Bradley one too many times, you handle the situation and secretly impress your father

A/N - it's been a minute huh, y'all? I think I'm doing a bit better (no promises), so maybe I'll be uploading more fics. anyway I won't bore y'all with a long A/N so as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy

Growing up alongside the Bradshaw family, it was basically inevitable that you would become best friends with Bradley Bradshaw. After all, you’d practically known the family since birth with your dad working alongside your Uncle Goose and it had devastated you when Goose died, understanding the finality of it all even at a young age. After Goose passed you made even more of an effort to be a good friend to Bradley, doing your best to keep a smile on his face.

However, the kids at your school were not nearly as kind. They had found out that Goose had died one day during an activity in the build-up to the summer holidays where your teacher gave you the freedom to make Father’s Day cards to store somewhere safe until the day came and Bradley had innocently asked your teacher what he was supposed to do. When the teacher had crossed the room to crouch down alongside him to ask why he couldn’t write a card for his dad, some kids had overheard him saying that his dad was dead and apparently thought it was the funniest thing to them. The teasing started off light before it got worse, but you could tell it bothered Bradley all the same, especially given the sensitivity of the topic. You ended up telling your dad about the teasing and bullying and without hesitation, Maverick had gone straight to Carole to make sure she was aware as well. Carole, of course, wasted no time going to the principal and telling him about how he needs to be doing better in making sure the bullies get punished.

When the principal did nothing about it, nonchalantly saying he couldn’t control kids’ actions, Carole went and tracked down the parents of the kids who were picking on Bradley after you gave them their names. Once again, Carole reached a brick wall as when she spoke to the various parents of the kids, they just shrugged her off and said that both Bradley and Carole needed to stop being so sensitive over something that happened years ago and that a bit of friendly teasing wasn’t hurting anyone so according to them, Bradley simply had to man up and learn how to take a joke. It took everything within Carole not to slap anyone when she heard the same answer multiple times. Her son was being bullied and no one was doing anything about it when this was the time to step up and do something. She didn’t care if had been ten minutes or ten years since Goose’s passing, he was still Bradley’s father, and her son was allowed to mourn the loss he suffered.

When Carole next met up with Maverick and filled him in on what had happened, Maverick immediately offered to give it a try himself, more than willing to be assertive and to even drag Iceman into it if needed. Carole told Maverick not to worry about it, and that he probably wouldn’t get much further than she did, even with Iceman.

“Do you want me to sleep with their wives?” Maverick had jokingly suggested which resulted in Carole hiding her giggle as she lightly slapped Maverick on the shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She replied, continuing to laugh as Maverick shrugged jokingly.

“All I’m saying is I could give them the best night of their lives, end it then and there and then ruin their marriage. That’ll teach them for picking on Bradley.” Maverick says nonchalantly, leaning back against the sofa with a grin.

“Mav, I love you, but no you can’t ruin people’s marriages over this.” Carole says as Maverick holds his hands up in mock surrender, both of them chuckling lightly.

“It was a good idea though.”

A couple of days later, one Saturday morning, you managed to coerce Maverick into taking you to the local playground and when you asked if Bradley could come with you and so he walked you over to the house just down the road and asked Carole if Bradley wanted to come to the park with the two of you. Carole was of course extended an invitation to join you all, but she politely declined, saying she had housework she needed to do. Now with Bradley in tow, the three of you make your way to the park, entering the gated park and both of you immediately head over to the swings while Maverick sits himself on a bench just outside of the park, watching you play with a soft smile.

However, at the most crucial moment, Maverick found himself distracted by a pair of attractive women who smiled flirtatiously at him as they passed, deciding that since both you and Bradley were happily playing in the park, he had the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with them.

In the park, a boy that was in your grade named Johnny decided he wanted to pick on Bradley, calling over to him and once again picking on him for the fact his dad was dead the moment, he realised you had crossed the park to talk to another one of your friends.

“Stop it.” Bradley said firmly, standing from the swing and attempting to stand up for himself against the bullies.

“What are you going to do? Tell your dad?” Johnny said before eyeing the way Bradley’s hand clenched around something hanging on his chest.

“What’s that?” He then asked teasingly, eyes glinting with glee as Bradley took a step back, fist tightening around the dog tags that once belonged to his dad. With nothing more than a look exchanged between them, Johnny’s two friends put a hand on Bradley’s shoulders and forced him to the floor, while Johnny pried Bradley’s hand open and removed the precious dog tags from around his neck, inspecting them and chuckling to himself.

“Goose? What kind of stupid name is that?” Johnny says, reading the callsign displayed on the tags.

“Give them back!” Bradley cries out, attempting to get up and grab his dog tags but Johnny’s friends were quicker, forcing down on his shoulders harder to prevent him from moving.

Across the park, you had heard Bradley’s demand and so glanced over and immediately removed yourself from your conversation and immediately rushed over to Bradley’s defence, taking less than a second to realise what it was Johnny had stolen.

“Give it back, Johnny!” You say firmly, holding your hand out expectantly and gritting your teeth when Johnny just laughs in your face.

“And why would I do that?” He taunts, sniggering as he glances over at his friends who laugh too.

“Because you’re not going to like what I’m going to do next.”

Just as Maverick was bidding goodbye to the two women, making sure to give each of them a cheeky wink as they went, he turned to look back at the park and instead came face to face with a rageful-looking mother who had a boy alongside her who was holding a tissue up to his bleeding nose.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The woman all but yells in Maverick’s face, barely giving him space to breathe, let alone process what she is saying.

“I’m sorry, what?” Maverick says, trying his best to calm the tension. He had recognised the kid instantly; you had pointed him out to your dad one afternoon when you had first told him about the bullying.

“Your brat of a daughter punched my sweet Johnny for no reason! I can’t believe you’d raise a child to think that’s okay.” The mother says, glaring at Maverick who takes a moment to glance over at you where you were crouching down alongside Bradley, clearly talking to him before taking a moment to look over at your dad with a worried expression.

“y/n wouldn’t hit someone.” Maverick says, getting up from the bench to be more level with the woman.

“She punched him!” She repeats, even louder and begins to get looks from people surrounding them.

“Okay, okay, cool your jets. I’ll speak to her.” Maverick says, waving his hand dismissively before crossing to the park gate, opening it and catching your eye before gesturing you over and waiting patiently for you to approach.

“Hi, dad.” You mumble, glancing down at your shoes to avoid looking Maverick in the eye.

“Hey squirt. So, I heard you punched that Johnny kid. Want to tell me what happened?” Maverick says, crouching down to be at your level and gently encouraging you to look at him. You mumbled something in response but none of it was audible to him.

“You gotta speak up kiddo.” Maverick encourages gently, reaching out and resting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing lightly, silently promising you he wouldn’t get upset.

“He took Uncle Goose’s dog tags from Bradley.” You say, a little louder so that Maverick can hear you. Upon hearing the reason you had lashed out; Maverick knew he couldn’t be mad at you at all, but he also knew he had to try and dissuade you from using violence in the future.

“Okay, sweetheart, you can’t punch people. I understand why you did it but if you’re ever in a situation like this, you come and get me, Carole, Ice, whoever. We’ll sort it out. I’m sure you did try but make sure you use your words. Punching people isn’t okay, no matter what it is they do.” Maverick says softly, watching as you carefully take in his words, nodding softly.

“Yes, daddy.” You say before Maverick gently pulls you into a hug.

“Go and grab Bradley and get ready to head back home. I’ll speak to Johnny’s mother.” Maverick says quietly before releasing you from the hug, letting you go over to Bradley then standing up and heading back over to Johnny and his mother.

“I didn’t see you disciplining your daughter. How do you know she won’t do it again?” Johnny’s mother says firmly, gripping her son’s shoulder and pulling him closer to emphasise the injury.

“I spoke to her, and she knows it’s wrong. But she did tell me that your son took something that was special to not only Bradley, but his family and my family too. And when your son clearly refused to give it back, she did what she thought she had to do. She won’t do it again, but I won’t say she wasn’t justified.” Maverick explains, folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow as he anticipates her freakout.

“She hurt my son and you’re saying it’s justified?” The shock and horror was painted all over her face as she yelled at Maverick.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say she wasn’t justified in what she did. Your kid stole something special from Bradley and has been bullying him for a while. You have refused to teach your kid better so no I will not punish her for standing up for her friend.” Maverick says firmly, deciding then and there that the conversation is over and turning to find you and Bradley.

“Come on you two, we’re heading home!” Maverick calls over to you and Bradley and when you and Bradley rush over to him, he wraps an arm around each of your shoulders and ushers you away from the woman and her son and begins the walk home. First, you drop Bradley off at his house, both of you greeting Carole as she opens the door. Just before Bradley heads inside, and while Maverick is explaining what happened earlier to Carole, Bradley turns to face you with a small smile.

“Thank you for getting my dog tags back.” Bradley says softly, making you smile before hugging Bradley.

“You don’t need to thank me.” You insist gently, squeezing Bradley softly before releasing him from the hug and letting him head inside with Carole while Maverick wraps an arm around your shoulders and encourages you to head home with him.

When you make it home, Maverick guides you into the living room and asks you to stay put while he grabs you an icepack. He soon returns with an icepack in hand, sitting down alongside you and taking the hand you had punched Johnny with and placing the icepack on the knuckles, biting back a frown when you wince slightly.

“This should help with any swelling.” Maverick says tenderly, his voice quiet as he lets you hold the icepack in place.

“Are you mad at me?” You question quietly, eyes fixed on the icepack to avoid looking at your dad.

“No sweetheart, I’m not mad. I do wish you had handled it a little differently, but I can’t be mad at you for standing up for Bradley.” Maverick admits, watching as you finally get the courage to look up at him.

“I wish I didn’t punch him. But it was satisfying.” You say quietly, a shy smile covering your face as Maverick lets out a soft chuckle before carefully pulling you into a hug.

“Well between me and you. I think he had it coming.”

[leclerc-s]

snow angel - track four

series masterlist // previous // next

DECEMBER 2022

JANUARY 2023

EARLY MARCH 2023

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, mickschumacher and others

rheareynolds the council sending me off for filming.

tagged: lilymhe

view all comments

user1 somehow all three are very grumpy about rhea leaving.

↳ rheareynolds they were. although the boyfriend has no place to be complaining. he's constantly travelling.

user2 the boyfriend is hot.

↳ user3 you can only see his hair and arms?

↳ user2 and?

vancityreynolds stop lying, i bet they're thrilled.

↳ rheareynolds just because blake always throws a party when you leave doesn't mean my friends and boyfriend do.

lilymhe you couldn't have found a better picture of me?

↳ rheareynolds i think you look very cute

↳ alex_albon that's my girlfriend!

↳ rheareynolds what's your point? she's literally my wife

charles_leclerc have fun but not too much fun!

user4 okay but her cat is literally the prettiest cat i've ever seen.

user5 see i personally love that rhea met lily and the other drivers through lando but they still picked her over him

↳ user6 to be fair they are friendly with lando but you can tell it's not the same as it was.

↳ user7 well lando cheated on his girlfriend and not the other way around.

LATE MARCH 2023

lilymhe and rheareynolds posted new stories

breakfast with the prettiest girl ever.

prettiest surprise visit ever.

charles leclerc rhea come home the children (me and lily) miss you

lily muni he please come back!

max verstappen added two people

logan sargeant bonjour!

logan sargeant i don't speak french

oscar piastri hello?

charles leclerc piastri i swear to seb if you tell nowins about this i will crash into you. alex albon jeez give the kid a chance to breathe sharl

rhea reynolds i wrap filming in may!

rhea reynolds oh hello. oscar piastri and?

logan sargeant i'm logan sargeant, alex's teammate. when will we be getting new music?

yuki tsunoda yes, when can i get new material to further torment norizz?

rhea reynolds july.

lance stroll BOOO!!

rhea reynolds but a single in june

pierre gasly IT'S BARELY APRIL?? THAT'S TWO WHOLE MONTHS AWAY?? mick schumacher sucks to suck charles leclerc YOU LET HIM HEAR IT BEFORE US?? YOUR BEST FRIENDS?? charles leclerc WHAT HAPPENED TO BROS BEFORE HOES?

george russell GIVE US THE TRACKLIST TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR SINS!!

rhea reynolds talk too much, i hate boston, poison poison, gemini moon, snow angel, so what now, the wedding song, pretty girls, tummy hurts, i wish, willow, 23.

charles leclerc claiming snow angel lily muni he claiming pretty girls max verstappen you two are too much sometimes. but i claim so what now.

rhea reynolds his ass is grass. trust.

oscar piastri trust i will be playing this in my drivers room.

MAY 2023

rheareynolds posted new stories

💞💞

i just woke up why the fuck is everyone blowing up my phone? did my nudes get leaked, not that i have any, or some shit? worse, what the fuck did ryan do now?

mick schumacher who fucking spilled??

esteban ocon i spilled milk earlier, why are you asking?? and how do you know??

rhea reynolds how the fuck did some spanish paper find out that i was dating mick??

charles leclerc oh no.

max verstappen YOU TOLD CARLOS??

charles leclerc HE PROMISED ME HE WOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING!!

pierre gasly HE'S FRIENDS WITH NO BITCHES!! WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE KEEP IT A SECRET??!!

oscar piastri this is bad. so bad.

lily muni he OH COME ON!! SERIOUSLY CHARLES??

charles leclerc I FUCKED UP OKAY?! I GET IT! I WILL SPEAK TO CARLOS!

george russell NO! NO MORE TALKING TO CARLOS!!

charles leclerc HE PROMISED!!

max verstappen HIS PROMISES MEAN SHIT! WE BOTH KNOW THAT!

rhea reynolds WHAT THE FUCK CHARLES??

charles leclerc I WAS ALSO DRUNK AND I TRUSTED HIM!!

pierre gasly i thought we learned our lesson after last time?

alex albon this is bad. this is so fucking bad.

rhea reynolds yeah no shit alex.

alex albon you didn't read the article did you?

lily muni he i swear to sebastian that i will be castarating both sainz and norris for what's being said. rhea reynolds oh fuck me.

are you dating mick schumacher?

rhea?

i know you're seeing these

are you seriously dating mick? my friend?

that's rich coming from the guy who cheated on me with a friend.

and if i am i don't think i owe you an explanation.

i also wasn't aware you guys were friends. you take one picture with a guy and suddenly you're friends.

are you fucking kidding me reynolds?

you're dating him?

him of all people

literally fuck you norris.

tell carlos to pull the fucking article or i'm suing his ass for defamation.

for what? telling the truth?

you and i both fucking know that article is straight bullshit. i never did anything to you. i was committed to our relationship more than you ever fucking were.

either he pulls the article or i swear i'll sue him.

fuck you and i hope you choke.

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¡leclerc-s speaks! i do know that the mick quote in the grill the grid video is in reference to seb, but the opportunity was right there so i had to go with it!! if i had a nickel for everytime i made carlos out to be an asshole i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. I PROMISE I DON'T HATE HIM!! I ACTUALLY LIKE HIM BUT HE'S LIKE BESTIES WITH LANDO AND IT WORKS OUT SO WELL.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[mapiforpresident]

Can I request prompt number 4 with Claudia Pina! ❤️ love your work!!

Oblivious to Flirting

Pina x reader

warnings: kiss

summary: you go on a date with Claudia without realizing it was a date.

~~~

You had a terrible track record with love. At 21 you hah had three serious relationships and all of them had failed horribly. The most recent one you got cheated on by someone who will not be named on your previous team, Arsenal. After this happened you decided to change teams and Barcelona jumped at the opportunity to have you.

Spain was a huge adjustment for year learning a new language, new customs and culture and having all new teammates. You got along really well with all of them, although Mapi was your favorite. She took you under her wing and helped you adjust to your new life as best as she could. One thing that was very new for you was all the affection you received.

Back in England your teammates hugged you and once in a while you would cuddle into Leah’s side during a movie night, but not here. Your teammates hugged you constantly, you were always getting kissed on the cheek, someone was always pulling you to sit on their lap, and so on. You weren’t opposed to the affection it was all just very new to you and your teammates loved how awkward you were when you received, especially Pina who was always teasing you.

Pina had always shown you slightly more affection than the other Spaniards, but you didn’t think anything of it. You were close in age and had similar joking personalities, so you figured she was just being a good friend to you. What you didn’t know was the Claudia was constantly trying to show you that she liked you. She would leave more lingering kisses, hug you for longer and always have a hand on your back or arm. She continued giving you more and more affection and more and more compliments, but you were not getting the hint. Especially after your last ex, you didn’t think anybody could really love you and want to be with you, especially someone as perfect as Claudia.

Today was a hot spring day and you had arrived to the training grounds at the same time as a couple of your teammates.

“Hola amor, did you sleep good last night?” Claudia asked while coming over and wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your check for far longer than what was friendly. You didn’t see Alexia smirking at the interaction behind you.

“Good thank you. How about you?” You asked her back blushing slightly at her question to you.

“Good but I’m a lot better now that I’m with you cariño.” You continued to blush loving both the nickname and her adorable accent when she spoke English to you.

You both continued to walk into the training facility, her arm guiding your lower back now.

~~~

During a water break from a drill Pina jogged over to you handing you a bottle of your favorite sports drink. You thanked her before chugging it.

"That was an amazing cross cariño, we make an amazing pair. I'm really glad we get to play on the same team." You blushed at the compliment.

"Thanks, your header was really good too, Paños didn't stand a chance." Before Pina could keep flirting with you though, Ale called them all together for the next drill.

~~~

"You played amazing out there cariño." Pina said as she slipped into her cubby right next to yours.

"You did great too." You said as you beamed at her.

"Do you want to go out with me later. There is a new sushi place Patri and her girlfriend went to that they said was amazing." Pina thought that it was clear that she was asking you out on a date, but you had no idea thinking she just wanted to try the new sushi place and wanted to hang out with you.

"Sure that sounds amazing I have been craving sushi all day."

"Ok, I'll pick you up at 8 cariño."

"What should I wear?"

"Whatever you like, you look beautiful in anything, but I think the place is more casual," she responded.

"Ok, I'll be ready." You replied.

~~~

Claudia picked you up right at 8 and opened the car door for you.

"I'm so excited for tonight I can't wait to spend time with just you," Claudia said as she pulled away from your apartment.

The car ride was filled with comfortable small talk. Claudia had been complimenting you all night, but you just thought she was in a nice mood and excited for the sushi.

When you got to the restaurant, Pina opened the door again for you. Inside the restaurant you sat at a nice secluded table towards the back.

As you settled into your seats at the secluded table, the soft ambiance of the restaurant enveloped you, adding to the air of anticipation already swirling between you and Claudia. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over the intimate setting, enhancing the sense of intimacy between you.

"Wow, this place is amazing," you remarked, taking in the elegant decor with a sense of appreciation.

Claudia smiled warmly, her gaze lingering on you as she reached across the table to gently brush her fingers against yours. "I'm glad you like it. But honestly, it doesn't compare to how amazing you look tonight."

Blushing at her compliment, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Claudia's affectionate gestures were not lost on you, but you still struggled to interpret them as anything more than friendly gestures.

Throughout the evening, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, punctuated by shared laughter and lingering glances.

As Claudia was taking her last bit of sushi she said to you with a bright smile on her face, "this was an amazing date, hopefully you will let me take you out on a second one."

You were shocked to say the least. "This was a date?" you asked not knowing what else to say.

Claudia misinterrpreted this as you not wanting to be a date and not liking her. "Uh... it was supposed to be. I asked you out and you said yes. I'm really sorry if I took this the wrong way and if you don't like me like that."

"No no no, I am really happy that this was a date, I just didn't realize you had asked me out. I thought you were just being friendly and wanted some company to try this restaurant since Patri was busy tonight. I do like you a lot Claudia."

Claudia's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of relief and disbelief washing over her features. "You do?"

You nodded earnestly, a warmth spreading through your chest as you met her gaze. "Yeah, I do. I mean, I've always enjoyed spending time with you, but I guess I never realized... I never realized you felt the same way."

A radiant smile lit up Claudia's face, her eyes sparkling with newfound hope and happiness. "I've been trying to show you for so long, but I guess I wasn't being as obvious as I thought."

You chuckled sheepishly, feeling a wave of regret for your obliviousness. "Yeah, I guess I'm not the most perceptive when it comes to these things."

"Well, I'm just glad we cleared that up," Claudia said, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. "And for the record, I really do like you. A lot."

You returned her smile, squeezing her hand affectionately. "I'm glad too. And for what it's worth, I think this has been the best date I've been on in a long time."

"Really?" Claudia's eyes sparkled with delight. "Well, in that case, I'll have to make sure the second date is even better."

As the evening wore on, you found yourself lost in conversation with Claudia, each moment filled with laughter, shared stories, and newfound affection. With every smile and every touch, you felt your connection with her deepening, blossoming into something beautiful and promising.

And as you leaned in to steal a soft, lingering kiss, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of Claudia's lips against yours and the promise of a future filled with love and possibility.

[comicaurora]

Are you willing to make a long personal post about how Math should be presented in an educational environment or in general conversation trying to convince the other participants about its daily usage. How it can advance a person’s problem-solving skills and approach in life.

I’m really good in Mathematics. I’ve given help for my classmates and friends about Math when they are having trouble or ask for it. But I have never been convinced of its importance outside of the classroom, outside of the test papers that gives me the variables to substitute in the given equation of that test of the day.

How can Math and it’s many properties relate back to everyday life in a casual manner?

Hm. Well, as someone who hasn't had to solve an antiderivative in years, my perspective on this is that the most important and widely-applicable skill math can teach you is the stuff behind the math - mostly the muscle-memory you get from proofs.

Math is, at its core, puzzles and logic and pattern-recognition. You learn a set of tools, you practice those tools on a set of simple problems until you get a feel for them, you are presented with a bigger problem, you recall which tools best applied to problems that are shaped like this, you break the problem down using your tools and eventually reduce it to something you know how to solve.

The fact of the matter is, the tools that are specific to branches of math don't really have much widespread use outside pure mathematics, and unless you go out of your way to keep using them you're likely to lose track of them. Studying math is not going to turn you into a super-calculator-wizard who can bounce stuff off the walls at perfect angles and do six-figure arithmetic in seconds, and I think some people feel overwhelmed at the assumption that that's what's expected of them if they learn math, and some other people feel cheated when they learn that that's absolutely not going to happen, because most writers don't know math and when they tell stories with math in them their best guess is it makes you a wizard.

I think the most advanced math I've used lately was trigonometry, and that was just because I was curious about how fast my plane was traveling relative to the sun's apparent movement at my latitude. We were flying back to the US from Iceland and we'd taken off at sunset, and we had been in that sunset for at least an hour by the time I got curious how the math worked out and started estimating our latitude, the circumference of the slice of the earth at that latitude, and correspondingly how fast we were flying vs how fast it was spinning to complete a full rotation in 24 hours. But even if the math involved didn't tap into any of the higher-level stuff I'd learned post-trig, those years doing proofs and figuring out which tools applied to which geometry meant that I could use the tools and my training applying those tools to calculate what I wanted to know, and confirm that our plane was actually outflying the sun when we were at iceland latitude, but as we curved south the sun's apparent relative movement (aka the rotational speed of that latitude of the earth) slowly accelerated until we were falling behind, landing right as the sun finally set. The math involved was high school level, but if I'd been given that problem in high school it would've taken more work and more stress to figure out how the tools I had needed to be applied to the problem I was facing. The years of practice I had tackling much more complicated proofs made the diagnostic process much faster.

I saw someone once analogize studying math to lifting weights. Where am I going to use this in real life? How often will I really be faced with two dumbbells that need to be lifted in three sets of twenty? Where am I going to apply the skill of holding a heavy thing straight out to one side of my body?

You don't lift weights because lifting weights is such a valuable and widely-applicable skillset, you do it because lifting weights makes you better at lifting everything.

You don't study math because math is going to fill your daily life with concepts that you need to prove true for 1 and for n+1 given true for n, or complex solids that you need to sum an approximate volume for, or a surplus of sunset plane flights that demand you calculate a bunch of cosines. You study math because it is the skillset of making things make sense. It trains you to break a huge, incomprehensible problem down into a series of small problems you already know how to solve. It lets you reach true and correct conclusions by starting from facts and transforming them through operations that preserve truth, and correspondingly that if you reach a false conclusion from these methods, then either the methods are flawed or the initial assumption is not as true as you believed. It teaches you to put two and two together and be confident, once you've double-checked your work, that you can say four.

This is stuff I use all the time in both my video research and my freeform writing. Building out a slow picture of how a story was told or changed over time involves finding the context it was created in, and reverse-engineering what parts of that context could have produced what standout portions of the story - what authorial or cultural bias results in this standout story element. Worldbuilding where I take two wildly disparate parts of the world, put them together and see what web of implications springs out of combining them, following the threads to new and interesting concepts that follow from what I've already established. Building a character arc by breaking down exactly what events are happening to them and what transformation each component will apply to the underlying character. If I want the story to go in a certain direction, what transformations do I need to apply to make that happen while still preserving truth? If I'm faced with a seemingly insurmountable problem, what methods can I use to break it down into bite-sized pieces?

This isn't something I think about most of the time. It's just how my brain works at this point, and I can't promise it'd work for anyone else. But thanks to all my years of hard work and training, my brain has been buff enough to solve every problem I've tangled with since graduation, and that feels pretty good.

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS SCENE BETWEEN | STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 1,190

summary: the first time you spend the night at jamie’s place. this takes place between chapters three and four of distractions. 

A/N: here is the first missing scene from distractions! sorry this is posted so late but it’s still monday for me! i plan on doing a few of these here and there, and will be posting another for ted day tomorrow. please let me know if there are any other moments, either mentioned or implied, you’d like to see from distractions! because i had a busy memorial day weekend, i haven’t had the chance to get chapter seven of distractions in a perfect place, so want to make sure you guys have some small things to hold you over. chapter seven should be out friday!

distractions masterlist 

There were a lot of things that brought you to Jamie’s door that night. 

One was homesickness. You had made the mistake of going on Facebook - a mistake in and of itself - and happened upon pictures of your extended family at a get-together for God knows what. It really didn’t matter. It was just a reminder of what you were missing, even before moving to another continent. You could count on one hand the number of times you got to go home to see your dads in the last few years, and lately it's been hitting you harder how much you missed them.

The second was also Facebook's fault. As you continued scrolling through the app in a depressed haze, you’d happened upon a post from Mason’s mom. God you really needed to unfriend him and his whole family. She had posted pictures of their family; Mason and Chloe included. Without even thinking, you’d clicked on Mason’s profile and saw his updated status.

In a relationship.

He and Chloe were Facebook official. 

While this didn’t surprise you, it still didn’t make you feel good. It was embarrassing the hold he still had on you, even though you’ve long since realized you deserved better than him. It just wasn’t fair that he got to flaunt his perfect, new relationship even though he fucked up and cheated. Eventually, you knew you’d stop caring, but right now all you needed was to get your mind off of your ex and his new girlfriend immediately. 

The third reason you came to see Jamie was a bit more complicated, and you didn’t even fully understand it. The reason being that you just really wanted to see him. You chalked it up to being lonely and horny, and didn’t dwell on the swirling feelings any longer than you should’ve. 

You knocked on his door around 10PM. You were worried he might already be asleep, or out training with Roy. You felt more relieved than you should when you heard the pads of his feet approach the front door. When he opened it, his first reaction was one of surprise, before his expression became pleased. He barely had time to formulate a greeting when your lips were on his. Jamie didn’t need instructions. He immediately hoisted you into his arms and carried you to his room. 

While you were used to Jamie’s generosity in bed, he was extra giving that night. You’d quickly learned it was because he’d sensed your tension. After round three or four - you couldn’t keep track - you and Jamie were laying side by side. He’d slowly turned to face you, and pulled his sheets up to cover you both. He gently thumbed your chin, coaxing you to face him as well. 

“Are you alright?” he’d asked softly. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jamie shrugged, “You’re quieter than usual.”

You chuckled, “What? I wasn’t loud enough for you before?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked slightly, “No, I mean, you’re usually more talkative.”

“Are you saying I talk too much?”

You realized his hand was still making contact with your face when he reached down to lightly pinch your shoulder, “Stop it. I like when you talk, but you’ve barely said a word since you’ve been here. And while I definitely do not mind the surprise visit, you’ve never come to my place before. Just wondering if something happened.”

You sighed, no longer able to meet his eye. “It’s really nothing. Was just feeling off today.”

Jamie hummed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, “Not right now.” 

“Okay. Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Hmm,” you basked in his attention and the way he was playing with your hair for a second, “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“What?” Jamie let out a confused laugh. 

“You know, like when you were a kid, did you always want to be a football player, or did you want to be something else?”

“Huh,” Jamie thought for a beat, “I feel like I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a footballer. After my mom got me into it, I never looked back.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you mused.

“What about you?” he asked after a few seconds. 

“I think in kindergarten I wanted to be a ballerina because I watched Barbie Swan Lake.”

“Of course.”

“And then when I was 9 or 10 I wanted to be a meteorologist. Or no, a storm chaser!” 

Jamie laughed loudly, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. I watched the Wizard of Oz and thought tornadoes were cool as hell.”

“I think that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to think.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like other girls,” you both laughed. “But then in middle school, I took my first creative writing class and I was hooked. I felt like I could write forever.” 

“Is that what you did before you came here?” he questioned.

“Sort of. I wrote for an advertising agency, but I wasn’t passionate about it. What I really want to do is be an author,” you admitted quietly.

“Yeah? That’d be so cool.” Jamie whispered, still twisting your hair between his fingers. 

“I think so, too,” you smiled a bit, “But I just haven’t had any inspiration lately.”

Jamie nodded, “Well I bet when you do start writing again, it’ll be great.”

“How would you know? You’ve never read my writing.”

“I just know.” After another few beats of silence, he continues even quieter, “Would you ever let me read something of yours, when you do?”

You studied him through your lashes, before giving him a tiny smile of your own. “Maybe,” you respond coyly. “You have to promise to lie to me and tell me you love it even if you hate it, though.”

Jamie huffs, “I doubt that’ll happen, but I promise.” 

“Thank you.”

You and Jamie kept chatting for a few more minutes before your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off, you note how comfortable and at ease you feel with Jamie. Whether it's when you’re hooking up, or just enjoying each other’s company, you feel nice and safe. It was a new feeling, and you didn’t know what it meant, especially when you were half asleep, but you liked it. 

The two of you slept soundly, wrapped up in one another, until around 4AM when you heard pounding coming from the front door. Without opening your eyes, you groan as you feel Jamie pull himself out of bed and out of your arms. 

“I’m sorry, it’s Roy,” he whispered, “I’ve got to get to training.” 

You let out another noise of protest and Jamie chuckled quietly. 

“Next time we stay at my place where Roy can’t find us,” you mumbled tiredly.

“Sounds good to me.”

You barely registered what must have been Jamie kissing your cheek before you’re falling back asleep. 

You were fully out again as Jamie quickly and quietly got ready. Before he jogged downstairs to meet Roy, he indulged himself with one last lingering look at your sleeping form. 

God, you were cute.

A/N: once again, please let me know what you think!! and if there are any other missing scenes you’d like to see! <3 p.s. anyone who asked to be on the taglist today/yesterday I will make sure you’re included in my post tomorrow!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife​ @chelseamount​ @k0z3me​ @lickitandsendit3​ @miakreid​ @shimmeringfrenchie​  @meg-ro​ ​@spookysins @a-sweet-little-fangirl @optimisticsandwichgladiator @marveltg365 @ringpopdust @gcidrvsh @beardsplitter @scaramou   @ibong-adarnaaa @piper570 @eviemae263782 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3  ​

[frozenwolftemplar]

Somehow, the Carmen Sandiego brainrot has taken hold even though I haven't watched an episode in months (no idea how that happened). So, how's about some headcanons? (feel free to play with any or all if they strike your fancy)

-- Carmen's room in headquarters has two wall clocks, one set to San Diego time and one to Ontario because

-- Player has a veritable army of cousins. Carmen never got a straight number because just when she thinks she's got them down, he'll offhandedly mention someone having a baby or something; quite honestly, he can't keep track either.

-- Carmen is nearly hopeless with numbers. Time zones, exchange rates, converting to imperial units when she's in the U.S., she never got the hang of any of it and has learned to just consult Player.

-- "Okay, that guy at the front desk said I'm ten miles from the Grand Canyon. How many-" "Sixteen, Red. Keep an eye out, it's easy to miss." "Very funny."

-- It drove the Faculty absolutely nuts that their 'golden opportunity' is math-stupid; they chalked it up to something she got from her mother's side.

-- It's not. Dexter Wolfe was just *that* good at hiding his dyscalculia.

-- The one math-y thing she can do is card counting, a key component of being an incorrigible cheat at board/card games. Because she will cheat at anything and everything.

-- Seriously, one time Zach and Ivy found an old Candyland game (just lying around the warehouse, don't ask) and Carmen, who had never seen the game in her life, positively trounced them.

-- They just *know* she has to be cheating but can't prove it.

-- Ivy, bewildered, to Carmen's cat-that-got-the-canary face: "How does someone cheat at Candyland?!?" She's just that good.

-- Whenever Shadowsan plays her in cards, it takes all of two minutes for the game to devolve from 'whatever they were supposed to be playing' to 'who's better at sleight of hand.' Not that he condones cheating, mind, but if Carmen's going to, well, he's not just going to let her get away with that.

-- Carmen as a kid was a very picky eater (her adventurous spirit not extending to the culinary world); the Faculty was as helpful as you'd expect.

-- "Dammit, Saira, I told you to quit trying to feed her that rice!" "Well I need someone to taste test-" (absolutely no sense of taste on Saira; lab accident, we don't talk about it) "-and you certainly haven't volunteered. Besides, this newest formula is fortified with three essential vitamins and minerals (at least, I think they're essential), which is more than those sweets you keep plying her with." "At least she eats those!"

-- Ivy and Zach are high school dropouts, figuring they could get ahead better with racing than with academics. As part of joining ACME they get their GED's (since they require *at least* a high school diploma) and the whole team (plus Chase and Julia) help out and are so proud when they pass.

-- The first thing Carmen always does in the morning, something that doesn't change post-series, is call Player. It's also the last thing she does before turning in at night. She can't imagine being any other way, and neither can he. (crud, they're just the bestest friends, I love them so much)

[eveninggstar]

Teammates and Tensions

Prologue

Summary: From the age of 9, you and Max Verstappen have been locked in fierce competition on the racing track. Growing up, you intimately learned each other’s techniques, paving the way for what could have been a formidable partnership. However, despite your shared prowess, there’s one glaring issue - an unyielding disdain for each other. As you navigate the world of motorsport, your rivalry intensifies, fueling both your desire for victory and your deep-seated animosity towards one another.

Warnings: Language, eventual smut, depiction of competitive sports (and some incorrect terminology), emotional conflict, Jos Verstappen, mild injury/violence -throughout the series

Pairing: Max Verstappen x RedBullDriver!reader

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Neither of you knew when this hatred started, only that it had been reciprocated. It felt as if you were born to hate the other, a disturbing feeling if you didn’t act on the hatred. During yours and Max’s childhood, there had always been incidents on the track.

2006

Your hot pink helmet zoomed past the others on the track, making your way from 9th to second in a couple of laps. There had been only one person preventing you from the win. Adrenaline running, you didn’t have time to think—only to win.

The acceleration pedal was parallel with the base of your kart, feeling the wheel vibrate due to the slightly rough ground. You went in for the overtake, now on your final lap. You and the leader were wheel to wheel, the checkered flag in sight. Focusing on the swish of the flag ahead, you found the motivation needed to take first place.

With the race finished and your first-ever win secured, you stood tall on the podium. After the fanfare and excitement from doting parents, you and the boys at your sides descended. Looking to your right, you saw a slightly taller blonde boy. He felt your eyes staring, causing him to turn and look. He still couldn’t believe how a girl so small could beat him in such little time.

“Congratulations!” The girl smiled at him, her braid slightly frizzed from the friction of her suit. She promptly held out a sharp hand, fingernails matching her helmet color, as she introduced herself. “What’s your name?”

The boy opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by a heavy, recognizable hand on his shoulder. “Max.” He looked up to see his father, slightly red in the face from anger, staring down at him with shame. The man must’ve given him a look that was not to be taken lightly, then he looked up at the winner of the race.

His face was a slight sneer at the nine-year-old girl, who in his eyes cheated and should not be allowed to race. The girl timidly brought her hand down, folding it with the other behind her back. As her frightened doe eyes peered up at the man, he spoke in clear words to her. “Shouldn’t you go play with your dolls?” His voice was condescending, a faux tone matched with a smile. However, little did he know, it only motivated her more to succeed. And if that meant beating his son in the sport they both loved, then so be it.

2023

“Alright, you’ve got a great opportunity ahead.” Your race engineer crackles over the radio. “Push hard and make it count. You’re faster in sector three. Keep the pressure and go for it.” With the final lap winding down, you sense your chance approaching. Max’s car wavers slightly through the corner, giving you the opening you’ve been waiting for over the past three gruelling laps.

You dive into the slipstream, closing the gap even further. Approaching the right chicane, you make your move, darting to the inside with lightning reflexes.

You could see Max’s futile attempts to defend, but when on track, you are relentless. Wheel to wheel, you navigate the chicane, the roar of the engine drowning out the crowd’s cheers as the two Red Bulls battle it out. With a daring maneuver, you get the better of Max, claiming the inside line and accelerating past him as you exit the corner.

The overtake was a success, your engineer congratulating you. Your heart is pounding against the multiple layers as you maintain the lead, focus unwavering as you charge towards the checkered flag. Behind you, Max struggles to recover, his frustration palpable over the radio as you pull away, wanting to dismiss the instruction to not overtake again.

“You got this,” Your engineer says over the radio, “No risk, Max has been told to leave it. Let’s get a 1-2 finish.”

Max clenches the steering wheel tightly, his competitive spirit burning within him. Despite his urge to retaliate, he reluctantly concedes, knowing that jeopardizing the team’s success is not worth the gamble.

But as they approach the final corner of the race, Max’s resolve wavers. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, he sees a gap, a chance to continue his 100% win rate of the season. Ignoring his engineer’s warnings, as he too senses that Mad Max would find a way, he makes a split-second decision to go for it, diving to the inside.

The two cars make contact, sending the pair in opposite directions in a cloud of dust and debris.

It was a moment of shock as you felt the car shove forward, the force propelling your car over the finish line. The cacophony of the crowd’s cheers and the blare of your car halting filled your ears as you realized what had just happened.

Disoriented and shaken, you blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the chaos around. Through the haze, you could see the battered remains of Max’s car nearby, a stark reminder of the collision and the reason why the pair of you were in this position.

As adrenaline began to ebb, your hands tremble on the steering wheel, your heart racing with a mixture of relief and disbelief. You had won the race, despite the circumstances, but the taste of triumph was bittersweet.

In the tense aftermath of the collision, you and Max found yourselves back in the Red Bull Racing garage, surrounded by your team members and the glare of harsh fluorescent lights. The air crackled with tension as accusations flew between the two drivers, your voices rising above the din of the garage.

“You could have killed us both out there!” Max’s voice echoed off the walls, his anger palpable as he glared at you. “You never should have gone for that overtake. It was reckless and irresponsible.”

You widened your eyes, “Me?” You yelled in retaliation, pointing a finger at yourself. You bristled at Max’s words, your own frustration boiling over. “And what was I supposed to do?” You shot back, voice tinged with defiance. “Sit back and let you win? I’m not afraid to fight for my place on this team.”

The team members looked on in dismay, torn between loyalty to their drivers and the desire to maintain peace within the team. Both drivers’ eyes burning against the other. Team principal Christian Horner stepped forward, his expression grave as he addressed the warring drivers.

“Enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We’re a team, and we need to act like one. This blame game isn’t getting us anywhere.” He looked at the pair. “You’re both brilliant drivers, and we are glad to have you on the team. But this is getting old.”

But the damage had been done, and the rift between you and Max seemed wider than ever. As you stormed off in opposite directions, your relationship strained to the breaking point, leaving your teammates to pick up the pieces and salvage what they could of their championship hopes.

In the days that followed, whispers of discontent echoed through the Red Bull Racing camp, as rumors of rifts and rivalries spread like wildfire. For you and Max, the collision had only served to deepen your animosity towards each other, fueling a rivalry that threatened to tear the team apart from within. And as they prepared to face their next challenge on the track, both drivers knew that the battle was far from over—and that the stakes had never been higher.

As tensions between you and Max had reached a boiling point, not just for Christian but for the entire team, he decided it was time to address the issue head-on. This meant it would be the final time to confront the issue.

You and Max were summoned to the office, each unaware of the other's presence. Christian had emphasized that this meeting was crucial and could not be missed. As you both approached the office, neither of you spotted the other, freezing at the sight of each other. Quickly breaking out of the initial shock, you gently pushed past Max to open the door.

“Excuse me!” He exclaimed, holding his arms out.

“Excuse me!” You childishly mocked, making your voice scratchy and reminiscent of a witch's. You smirked to yourself as you dropped carelessly into the seat on the left side of Christian’s desk. Looking up at him, you saw him rubbing his brow bone in annoyance.

“Enough is enough,” he declared, his voice firm after Max sat down. “The constant bickering and clashes between you two are threatening the harmony of the team. We can’t afford to let personal animosities interfere with our performance on the track.” He glanced between the two of you. “You’re both twenty-five for god's sake!”

You attempted to speak, realizing your twenty-fifth birthday was approaching in a few months, but Christian interrupted, “Not now, y/n.” You looked down, pushing your lips out awkwardly. “You don’t need to be so pedantic all the time.” Max took the initiative to remain silent.

“If you two can’t find a way to resolve your differences and work together as teammates, then I’m afraid we will have no choice but to consider other options.” Max was looking around the room, while you were picking at your nails. “Do you have any idea how many people dream of being in your positions? You’re acting like children.” His voice grew louder, and his face redder.

The sobering thought of being easily replaced in a championship-winning team weighed heavily.

Christian leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “I have come to the conclusion that for the two of you to get along better, you need to spend more time together.” This sparked outrage between the two of you. “Calm down!” Christian raised his hands. “It’s only during races. As for hotel situations, you two will be sharing a room.”

“What?”

“So, we get no privacy?”

“That’s not completely true..” He huffed. “You will share the living spaces, but have separate rooms and bathrooms.” Christian rolled his eyes. He could sense the tension was still high, even see it. Rolling his eyes, he finalized his statement, “All of the plans will be made for the next season. So, enjoy the final races, free time.” The pair of you eased slightly. “Maybe get to know each other more.” You and Max rolled your eyes in sync, crossing your arms. Christian looked at the pair of you, incredulously.

“I’ll see the pair of you soon.” He waved his hands, silently motioning you out of his office. Walking to the door with you, he paused as the pair of you were about to exit his office. “Just be happy we didn’t choose the other option.”

“What’s that?” You turned, standing between the two men.

“Dating for a PR stunt, regardless of what you had to say.” He closed the door in your face.

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 10

Find the series masterlist

Ace continues to find trouble. The plot thickens.

Warnings: Swearing, fair bit of introspection, some veiled threats, more spy shit.

Word count: 1.7k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

You regretted all your life choices. 

“How the hell–” you started, sputtering, staring at Candyland. “How?!”

“I swear he cheats,” Garrick grumbled, looking just as distraught. Soap, on the other hand, was entirely too proud of himself. 

“I dinnae cheat,” Soap said, still grinning. “I’m just talented.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, pat his head like a puppy, or strangle him. Fortunately, you were all saved by the door opening, Captain looking in at you all. You straightened almost without thinking about it. 

“Pipe down,” he grumbled. “You’re keeping half of London awake.”

Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. The humor around his eyes, the tone, the very “dad” kind of check-in… Oh no. Nope. No no no. You were absolutely not thinking about him, nope. Not happening. 

(It was happening, dammit.) 

“Yeah, yeah,” Soap grumbled. “Ruinin’ my fun, Cap.” 

Captain just snorted and left. 

“Well, I’m going to take that excuse to get out,” Garrick admitted with a wry smile. “Before you actually win.” 

Soap pouted but didn’t protest. “And you?”

You held your hands up. “I’m out. You’re the winner now.” You stood, a little careful of your side, and headed for the door. 

Garrick ended up walking you back to your room… Not that it was far. You weren’t sure whether you should be amused or offended that you ended up in the middle of them. 

You decided to be amused, because otherwise you’d have to hurt someone. 

Those four days you spent on that little base were not… the worst. Far from the worst. You weren’t willing to be honest in where you ranked those four days. 

But you were also glad to go, which you did. In the middle of the night. You left a note for them, because you weren’t a monster. 

But you did absolutely sneak out and run. 

This time, you headed east and south, to some contacts in Egypt. Laswell wanted you to play nice with the team and gather information for them?

One of those things you could do consistently. The other was iffy. 

(Iffy because Captain was handsome, which you’d known from the beginning, but then you saw the care he afforded his men, the way he quietly kept track of them, the way he started to add you into that fold. And you couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the thought of him knowing anything more about you, getting any more fuel against you, learning more ways to hurt you. If anyone asked, you would have denied avoiding him, and it would have been a lie.) 

Egypt was hot but gorgeous, and you had some fun there.

You also got a few new people to investigate, a new contact, and some potential weapons shipments. You chased down the weapons shipments even as you made your way up to Turkey again. Maybe a hideaway in Turkey would be a good idea… 

After Turkey, you ventured briefly into Russia, just long enough to take a few pictures of a certain warehouse with some particular people coming and going. 

Just because you often didn’t do the leg work didn’t mean you couldn’t. 

It was… odd. To be on one job. You hadn’t heard from Sergio or Valeria, or any of your other regulars. You thought briefly about checking in on them, but… Well, they knew to contact you if they needed anything. And you didn’t want to seem desperate for work. Because you weren’t. Just trying to get information on the ultranationalists and AQ was keeping you quite busy. 

(Was this what it felt like, to have one job? To be rooted to one spot, tied to one person? But no, not exactly, you still had your freedom to come and go, you still chose what you did. You were still better off.) 

But it did feel… odd. Strange. That things were so quiet. 

It made you feel like you were out of the loop. That something was coming and you had no idea what. 

You didn’t find out until you left Russia. 

The plan had been to go up to Finland. Because you’d heard good things about Finland, and you wanted neutral territory for this next info drop. You weren’t planning to step foot into London for a long time. 

The plan changed as soon as you marked the two men behind you, following you into the airport. You ducked into the women’s restroom to text Captain. 

Will be late for dinner, no need to save me any.

That was a code you hadn’t had to use in a while. You were letting him know you were in a spot of trouble, but you didn’t need rescuing. 

At least, not yet. 

You didn’t get farther than buying a ticket. 

Security pulled you out of line and sent you to a private room to wait. And that’s when you knew you were fucked. 

Little issue with my flight, you texted Captain. Not sure when I’ll make it back. That was innocuous enough while still alerting him to the problem. 

And then you texted Laswell. Just in case Captain didn’t believe you, or didn’t understand your code. Been a delay with my flight, working on rerouting.

You slipped your phone back in your pocket just as the door opened, admitting two big, burly men. 

“Get up,” one ordered, English a little accented but clear. 

“I’m sorry, am I in trouble?” You decided to play hapless tourist, eyes wide even as you stood. “Did I do something wrong?” 

But they refused to play. “This way,” was all he said, motioning for you to follow. His friend fell in after you. 

Hoo boy. This was going to end poorly. 

The two men bundled you into a black SUV with tinted windows. You sat stiff in the back seat, gaze roaming, trying to figure out who they were and why they wanted you. 

Of course, you had a guess as to why they wanted you, but confirmation would be nice. 

The drive was longer than you had hoped, taking you outside the city to a large private residence. You were ushered out of the car and into the house. 

“There she is.” The voice sounded familiar, but you weren’t entirely sure why. The man didn’t look familiar, blonde hair kept short, gray-blue eyes cold even as thin lips stretched in a smile. “Forgive me, I have heard so much about you, but you are quite difficult to get hold of.”

“Oh?” You shifted your weight slowly, keeping your eyes on him. He was the biggest threat here. 

“Indeed.” He stepped forward slowly, gaze raking over you. “I have heard that you are excellent at gathering information and helping to coordinate certain things.” 

“I can be.” You shrugged, tipping your head to the side. “Depends on who’s asking.” 

His smile widened, but his eyes never warmed. “Sergio never told me you have such steel in you.”

Now his voice made sense. He was the one that had arranged the trap all those months ago, the one who had been in Sergio’s home, who presumably had left him the black eye. Well, shit. You blinked once, smile firmly in place. “Well, I suppose it should be only to his credit that he hadn’t told me of you.” 

The man chuckled, stopping a couple feet in front of you. “Indeed. For now, you may call me White.”

For a moment, your heart tripped. But it had to be a coincidence. There was no way he was connected to Gray. Last you’d heard, Gray had been touring the Middle East and ignoring Russia. So you pushed the panic down and nodded once. “Well, White, what can I do for you? Now that I’ve missed my flight.” 

He waved a negligent hand. “I’ll reimburse you for that,” he dismissed. “I have a little job for you.”

“Did Sergio tell you about my rules?” You tucked your thumbs through your belt loops, watching him closely. 

“He mentioned you have some things you won’t do.” White shrugged. Like that wasn’t a problem. Like he didn’t care.

Well, he probably didn’t care, and probably figured your rules could be broken anyway. He seemed that type of man. Valeria got that way too, sometimes. 

“I don’t find names, I don’t touch anything to do with kids, and I stay in information only. Any dirty work needs doing, your people will have to do.” 

“You don’t find names?” One impeccably shaped eyebrow rose. 

“If you give me a name, I’ll use it. But I don’t dig up names from other organizations.” You shrugged. “Personal policy. Helps to protect everyone involved.” 

“I see.” Finally, a flicker of something in those eyes, even though it was annoyance. “Well. Your rules will not be a problem.”

“Then I would love to hear your proposal.” You smiled, carefully keeping your teeth covered, gaze sharp. 

“I’m looking to source some new weapons.” He shifted his weight back, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I need some new contacts.”

You nodded slowly. A test, then. To see if you would give him good information. Fortunately for you, you already had some of those contacts. “I can reach out to my people and see who’s accepting new clients,” you offered easily. “It’ll take me a day or two, and I’ll need to provide contact information.”

His gaze flicked to one of the men behind you and he nodded once. The man stepped forward and held out a business card to you. All white with black letters. No name. Just a phone number and an email. 

“I’ll provide you with an emailed list of contacts as well,” you said, taking the business card. “So you’ll know who to expect to hear from.” 

“Very good.” White smiled again, somehow even colder. “Then I will let you return to your own business.”

You noted he’d never apologized for grabbing you, but then, if you were right about how high up in his organization he was… Well, you’d never get an apology from him. 

You were quiet as you were escorted back to the car, and then back to the airport. The driver handed you a check, more than enough to cover not only your lost ticket but a replacement. 

But the check wasn’t from a personal account. It was a business account. 

One of the businesses that had first drawn you into this mess. 

Well shit.