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imaginaryf1shots · 5 months

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My Girls (XI) | Max Verstappen

WC: 7.6K

Driver!OC x Max Verstappen

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandonment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

AN: The next chapter will be the last one 🙂

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He Who Must Not Be Named

It was a normal day in MonacoIt was a normal day in Monaco. Adeline was home alone for the day. Her husband was in Sweden for work with Laurent. Cecilia was off racing with Nathalie and Max. Adeline was relaxing a bit before heading out to meet her friends for lunch. Adeline is a graceful, soft-spoken woman. Her early life was hard, but when she married Börje, she married up and now lives a life of luxury. Her husband likes to pamper her and give her everything she ever dreamed of.

When the doorbell rang Adeline was confused, she wasn't expecting anyone or anything, her mind went to how sometimes Cecilia orders stuff to their house if she doesn't want Max to see it or they weren't there and didn't want anyone to get in their apartment.

Opening the door she was rendered speechless, here stood the man that she once welcomed into her own, the man she treated like family, a man that she treated like a son something he never experience, the man her family showed so much love to, here stood the man that caused her daughter so much anguish and hurt but gave her the best thing in her life.

“It’s good to see you Adeline.” The man had a smirk on his face, his hands in his pockets and his voice cocky. Adeline had to blink a couple of times and swallow before she was able to get her voice back.

”Mathew, what are you doing here?” Last she saw him was in 2015 and it wasn’t on good terms.

”I came to see Nathalie.” Mathew said and stuck his head inside looking around, where all this attitude came from, she had no idea. He wasn’t like this when he was with Cecilia, the nerve of him turning up at her doorsteps 7 years after his daughter was born and asking for her. “Won’t you invite me in?”

”No.” Adeline said and held the door tighter, she was blocking his way in, the usually nice and polite woman doesn’t really hate anyone, she holds no hate in her heart, but, Mathew, he’s the exception. She holds so much hate and resentment towards him, all those feelings that she gained seeing how heartbroken her daughter was when he broke up with her and chose not to be a part of Nathalie’s life, before she was even born. all those feelings that went away with years came back once she saw his face. “And you can’t see Nathalie as well.”

”Why not? She’s my daughter.” The audacity of this man, Adeline frowns and scoffs.

”I’m surprised you’ve remembered, but she’s not your daughter and she’s not here.” Adeline told him. “Good day to you, but please don’t come back.”

Adeline closed the door in his face and even locked it for good measure, she had to take a few deep breaths to calm her heart, seeing him unsettled her. Why is he back? Why is he asking about Nathalie? What game is he playing?

Adeline plops down on her sofa, and opens her phone and presses for her contacts before she stops, who does she call? Her husband, who is on a business trip and will take his plane home? Her daughter, who is busy with the last couple races of the season? Both are working and will get affected by this, it takes her a surprisingly long time to decide who to call. She calls neither of them, instead she calls Laurent first.

”Bonjour, maman.” Laurent answers as he always does, he’s always the fastest person to pick up her calls.

”Laurent.” Was all it took for her son to know that there’s something going on, his mother doesn’t call him by his name a lot, it’s always a nickname or amour, never Laurent.

”What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you hurt?” She hears movement in the background as Laurent panics.

“No, no I’m fine.” She reassures him before she sighs. “Is your dad around?”

”He’s in a meeting, if you want I can go get him though.”

“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”

”What’s going on, maman? You’re scaring me.” Laurent sounded beyond worried.

”Mathew came asking for Nathalie.” The line went silent after Adeline managed to get those words out, both needed a moment to come to terms with what Adeline said, even to herself it sounded out of this world.

”Mathew? as in…” Laurent had no idea what to call him, he’s not Nathalie’s dad, but he’s not just Cecilia’s ex as well.

”Oui.” Adeline felt a headache coming, her day is ruined and her family’s day is about to be as well.

“Did you tell Cece?” Laurent asked, he wanted to assess the situation first before he said or did anything.

”No, I called you first and I was thinking of telling Max, he’s going to be the calmer one out of the two.” Adeline said walking her son through her thought process. “I thought it’s the best thing to do, and you can tell your father, he’ll be very angry about it especially since I’m here alone, I don’t even know how they allowed him to come up without calling me first.”

”Yeah, he’s going to have a word with the security, rightfully so.” Laurent isn’t amused with the security, their family has lived in that house since before he can remember, and his father takes their safety and security very seriously. “I think calling Max is the best thing, but wait until after the race today, I’ll tell papa.”

”Okay, but do tell him I’m alright, and that nothing happened.”

”I will, but I’m sure he’ll call you straight after anyways.”

“That’s true, bye mon amour.”

”Bye, maman.”

Adeline waits until the race is over and she's sure that they finished debrief and all their duties before she calls Max. Max doesn’t pick up the first time, making Adeline nervous, her leg bouncing up and down. The second time he declines but he calls her back not even 5 minutes later.

”Hello.” Max’s voice greets her.

”Hello, Max, is this a good time for us to talk?” Adeline asked, aware that just because he picked up doesn’t mean he’s not busy.

”Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, but Cecilia isn’t with me.” Max was in the car being driven back to the hotel, Nathalie and Cecilia already left, since she finished earlier than he did.

”No, I wanted to talk to you.” Adeline’s voice was a dead giveaway that something happened, she didn’t sound like her usual self at all.

”Did something happen?” Max asked frowning, Adeline took a moment to answer him, saying it the second time hasn’t made it easier for her.

”I’m sorry to be telling you this now, especially after you won today-“

”Look, whatever you need to tell me, you can say it, it’s not my first win.” Max wasn’t cocky, but this had to be big for her to call him twice and want to talk to him and not Cecilia, his mind filled with ideas about what could possibly be wrong.

“I didn’t know if to call you and tell you or call Cecilia, but I think you’ll be calmer than her and then you can judge how she is before you tell him, but Mathew came today and he wanted to see Nathalie.” Once more the line went silent but only for a moment.

”Mathew? Who's Math-“ Max stopped himself once he realised who Adeline was talking about. “Cecilia’s ex? That Mathew?”

“I’m afraid so.” Adeline sighed and closed her eyes.

“And he asked to see Nathalie?” Max asked, sounding deathly calm.

“Yes.”

”Did he ask about Cecilia?”

”No.”

”Did he say why?”

”No, just that she’s his daughter and he wants to see her.” Max scoffed at the words.

”Like hell he is.” Max muttered, his jaw clenching. “Are you okay? I know you were alone today.”

”I’m fine, don't worry, Börje will come by today or tomorrow morning, I think.” Adeline assured him.

“That’s good, I’ll tell Cecilia, don’t worry about that.” Max was battling so many emotions inside himself right now, but he had to be calm and he had to tell his girlfriend first before they could do anything. It won’t be pretty and it won’t be nice but he has to be the one to tell her. He says his goodbyes to Adeline and spends the rest of the ride debating and thinking about how he’ll tell Cecilia. He tried to keep his thoughts from wandering and going to dark spots as much as he can, It won’t do him or anyone else any good.

By the time he reached the hotel, he had everything planned out, what to say and what their next steps should be. However the moment he walked in it all went out the window.

“Daddy!” The arms of his beautiful 7 year old wrapped around his middle, head buried in his stomach. “What took you so long?”

Max as always pulled her up, it doesn't matter to him that she's gotten too old and heavy to be carried. He works out, he's strong and as long as he's capable he'll carry her. “Sorry liefje, the debrief took longer than we expected.”

“Its alright daddy, mommie already showered and everything.” Nathalie said and started telling him everything that's been done since she last saw him. Her every move. Cecilia’s every move.

“You little snitch, are you going to tell him how many times I've been to the bathroom.” Cecilia teased her daughter, kissing her head and Max's lips as she passed them.

“Three times.” Nathalie said proudly, making Cecilia laugh, Max managed to only give her a smile.

“We have to talk about privacy and secrets and what to tell and what not to tell.” Cecilia said from the living room part of the hotel suite, Max made it to the bedroom. He already showered at the track, he placed Nathalie on the bed and went to his suitcase to get his clothes before he went to the bathroom to change.

“But we don't keep secrets from daddy!” Nathalie exclaimed, flabbergasted that her mum would think to not tell her dad something.

“I guess not.” Cecilia said and came back with a water bottle, she kissed her daughter’s cheek, and plopped down beside her on the bed. “When do you have the call with your friend again?” Nathalie scrambled off the bed almost tripping as she rushed to the living room where her iPad is. Her friend and her scheduled a zoom call, something that she started to do when she's with her parents for a week or two. Max came out of the bathroom in a pair of shorts and shirt. He said nothing to Cecilia but sat on the bed with his back to her. Cecilia sat up and crawled towards him, she gave him a back hug, her front pressed to his back, her arms wrapping around him.

“You're quiet.” Cecilia says and presses small kisses to his neck and the parts of his jaw she could reach, Max closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of her lips feathering up and down on his skin, making him shiver. “What's wrong?”

“Cecilia.” She instantly stops and pushes herself away from her boyfriend. Max turned to look at her, she looked like he electrocuted her.

“Are you angry at me or something?” She asks him, in his eyes she looked small and confused.

“What? No, why would you think that?” Max was now confused, why did she think he's angry with her.

“You called me Cecilia, we're alone and you never call me Cecilia.” Realisation dawned on Max, and despite what he's about to tell her, he smiles.

“No, schatje, I'm not mad, not at you at least.” Max explained and took her hand in his, he gave her a squeeze.

“Amor, What happened.?”

“Mathew went to your parents house today.” Max decided to drop the bomb on her, Cecilia recoiled from him and was off the bed in a second.

“What? Why?” All colour drained out of her.

“Cilia, calm down.” Max followed her off the bed and around it, Cecilia was already shaking. He glanced out the door and saw Nattie occupied with her friend talking animatedly. “Just listen to me.” Cecilia gave a hesitant nod and took a deep shaky breath. “Your mum called me, he went to your family house and asked for Thalia.”

“That fucker, why the hell is he asking about her?” Cecilia’s anger is very evident, she's always been known for being calm, collected and patient. The Ice Queen of Motorsport, and a soft hearted woman behind the scenes.

“I don't know, but we're finishing the season next week, your dad is back with your mum and he signed away his rights. He has no grounds to stand on, if he wants to do anything.” Max said and Cecilia shook her head no, she’s not satisfied, this affects her and Nathalie and even Max. It’ll cause so much trouble if he shows his face again.

”No, no Max, it’s not okay, he agreed to not show up again, he agreed to never see her and to not be a part of her life, what if he wants to be a part of her life? What if he wants to take her from me? I can’t-I can’t-“

”Cilia, Schatje, please calm down.” Max cups her face and her eyes settle on his and fill with tears. “Don’t jump to conclusions, we have no idea why he wants to see her, and he has no right to see her, so he won’t, we’re not letting him, okay?”

”Okay, yeah, you’re right.” Max pulls Cecilia in for a hug and kisses her head, as she always does when she needs comfort Cecilia tries to hide herself in Max.

“We’re a team, you’re not going through this alone and Nathalie is mine.” Max whispers and holds her tighter. “I’d be dead before he takes her from me.”

”Thank you amour.”

”No need to thank me, we’re in this together.”

Max goes on to win the last race of the season with Cecilia coming P3, Max won the world championship a few races back, a race that saw him as 3rd time World Champion.

The couple hadn’t been in Monaco since they heard about Mathew and he hadn’t turned up to the Hannsson household. Börje had a word with the security team at the apartment building and there has been a change in the staff.

The family calmed down when it was two weeks after the final race and there was no trace of the British man. It seemed like he’s not in Monaco and that maybe he just winded them up for the fun of it and that he doesn’t actually want to see Nathalie.

It was a random Tuesday when Max, Charles and Lando(who was here for the week before he’ll start his winter activities) met up for some reason or the other, the trio’s relationship is ever closer because of their connections to the female driver. Something that the fans love, especially the Lestappen shippers.

”Max Verstappen!” A male voice called for the RedBull driver while they were walking around looking for the shop Cecilia told them about, before they were going to head back for a late lunch at the Hansson-Verstappen household. The trio instinctively turned around to look at the man, expecting a fan but he didn’t look like it.

”Yes.” Max answers confused, it took Charles a moment to realise who he is but the moment he did you could see it on his face.

“Mathew?” Charles was the one to say, and Max looked at him frowning before he looked back at the man who he now knows is Mathew, his eyes take in the British man, the man that caused so much trouble in Cecilia’s life, the man that donated his sperm to bring his daughter in this world, the man he wants to punch so bad for coming and asking about Nathalie.

”I’ve been hoping to run into you.” Mathew said and walked closer so he was standing in front of Max, his face in a smug grin, hands in his pockets looking like he has no care in the world.

“And here I was hoping you’d died in a ditch or something.” Max replied smoothly, Lando choked on his breath, he has no idea who Mathew is and why Charles and Max have this reaction to him, Mathew chuckles looking amused.

“Nice one.” Mathew runs his eyes over to the other two drivers, before they settle on Charles. “It’s been a while, Charles.”

”Not long enough.” Charles muttered, Charles is a nice person by nature, he’s never not nice but here he is Lando seeing him angry at a person for no reason that he knows of.

”Looks like getting into Formula 1 changed you.” Mathew gave them a condescending look and rolled his eyes.

“What do you want? Get on with it.” Charles said wanting this interaction to be over already, he doesn't know about Mathew turning up to the Hansson household and asking for his goddaughter.

”Same thing I asked for when I met Adeline, I want my daughter.” Mathew shrugged as if that’s the easiest most simplest thing ever, and he’s not asking for a daughter he left and knows nothing about.

”First, she’s not your daughter, second, it’s Mrs. Hansson to you, third, you better piss off and get out of our faces and our lives.” Max said and took a step closer, his tone was not to be taken lightly, Mad Max may be something of the past but when he’s pushed he’s right there. Lando then realised what’s going on, he realised who Mathew is. Charles also realises that Mathew went and asked for Nathalie, another reason for him to not be nice or kind to Mathew.

“Huh, no can do I’m afraid.” Mathew’s grin was gone, and the dark side of him came to the surface. “Look, just because you’re fucking her mother, doesnt make you her father, she’s mine, her DNA is half off mine.”

”And just because you donated your sperm doesnt make her yours.” They’re face to face now, both waiting for something small to put their hands on the other. “Where have you been the last 7 years? Before that when Cecilia was pregnant, where were you? I bet you were drunk off your ass sleeping with women, getting them pregnant before leaving them for someone else, how many children do you have running out there without a father? huh? A lot I bet, listen here Mathew, Nathalie is mine, and you better not ask for her or even think about her, because you’re never seeing her.”

“We’ll see when Cecilia sees me what she says about it, I bet she’ll just spread her-“ Max didn’t let him finish before he was swinging his fest and punching Mathew with all he got, in a second he was holding his shirt and swinging for another punch, Mathew took a moment to swing his fest. The other two drivers didn't have enough time to separate the two before they both landed a few punches in.

By the time they were pulled off each, Max's fist was bloody, his face bruised with a split lip. Both men were heaving, Charles pushed Mathew away making stumble and fall, but he didn't care, he helped Lando push and move Max away from the annoying Brit.

“Come on, mate.” Lando stresses, Max is not cooperating with the two drivers, they have to use their full strength to pull him away from the sight of Mathew. Max is boiling with anger, Lando who came in with Max drives the dutchman's car while Charles follows in his Ferrari.

When they reach the apartment Max opens the door and storms inside, he ignores Cecilia’s calls and everyone else and heads to the bedroom. Lando comes in followed by Charles, Cecilia’s standing there looking at them confused, Alex also looks confused but she stayed with Nattie on the living room floor playing with her barbies and their sports cars.

“What happened?” Cecilia asked her friends worried.

“Uh, we saw Mathew.” Charles says softly and her heart drops, she crosses her arms and shuffles her legs.

“They got in a fight.” Lando adds after a beat of silence.

“Fuck.” Cecilia mutters and pushes her hair back, stressing.

“Look, Cece, we can take Nattie for the day and you and Max can talk about it.” Charles offers and she turns to look at Nathalie before looking back at her friends, Lando gives her a nod and she sighs.

“If it's not too much trouble.” Cecilia place a hand on Charles arm in gratitude.

“Hey, she's my goddaughter.” Charles offers her a smile and pulls her in for a quick hug before he heads to the living room with an enthusiastic. “Who wants to have a sleepover at Charlie's house?”

“Mathew really said some stuff to piss Max off.” Lando told her and she wants to strangle Mathew, he came into their lives and is messing it up. “Max was angrier than I've ever seen him before… And that's saying a lot.”

“Thank you Lando.” Cecilia say and also gives him a hug. Charles is already helping Nattie pack an overnight bag. Cecilia says goodbye to your friends and daughter, Alex gives her a long hug before they head out.

Opening the door to their shared bedroom, the only source of light is from the windows, Max is sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, his knuckles in his right hand are bruised and busted.

“Max.” Cecilia says and goes to sit by his side, her hand lands on his back, moving up and down. “Amour, please look at me.”

Max turned his head to look at her still leaning forwards, Cecilia grimaced when she saw his face, it’s already bruised. Cecilia went to the kitchen and got some ice before she rushed back, Max was sitting in the exact position he was when she left him, placing the ice on his cheek, the only reaction he gave her was closing his eyes.

”Mon amour, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Cecilia whispers her eyes filled with tears, her ex taunted Max, he hit him, Mathew is causing Max anguish and she feels guilty for it all.

”No, no, it’s not your fault, you don’t say sorry okay?” Max was out of his mind, he’s still so pissed off and the last thing he wants is for Cecilia to feel guilty in any way shape or form. “This is his fault, and his fault only. That asshole knew what he was doing.”

Tears gather in her eyes and she bites her bottom lip, her eyes focusing on the ice she's holding to Max’s face. Max takes a deep breath and sighs, they sit in silence for a few long minutes, there's so much emotion, the tension is high.

“Did Nattie go with them?” Max asked breaking the silence, Cecilia nods her head and Max removes the ice towel From his face gently taking her hands in his. “Come on.” He says so very softly, Max is always soft with her and Nattie but this is a different kind of soft. This is a scared man that's trying to be strong, this is a man that has so much on his shoulders and doesn't want to show it, that is a man has so much to lose. Max is vulnerable and he's trying not to show it, it is rare for him to be so vulnerable. Max leads Cecilia to the bathroom, once they're in their ensuite he turns the tab on in the huge tub they have facing the window. They're silent, Cecilia watches Max with intensity, her heart is beating fast in her chest, and Max still won't meet her eyes. So when he comes to stand in front of her Cecilia raises his chin with the tip of her fingers, and his eyes move up her figure until they meet her eyes. Their eyes meet and every thought, everything that Cecilia wanted to say is gone, she can't remember what she wanted to say. Max's blue eyes trap her, people always say that eyes are windows to the soul and she couldn't help but agree at this moment.

Max moves his hands down to the hem of her shirt and lefts it up, Cecilia says nothing just follows his lead and lefts her hands up to help him slip it off. He drops it to the floor, his eyes not leaving hers, his hands move to her jeans and unbutton them, he push them over her hips and they fall to the floor, Cecilia steps out of them, and stands there in her undwear and still Max doesn't look away from her face. Before he moves to her bra or panties he starts on his own clothes, he takes off his shirt in one fluid move and moves to his pants, Cecilia isn't as strong as Max her eyes drop to his chest for a moment before they go back to his face.

Max smiles a little and a blush covers Cecilia's face, Max's hands cup her face his thump rubbing her cheek softly. Max's hands run over her neck, shoulders and back until they reach the clasps of her bra which he undoes expertly, her bra falls on the floor between them, and Max's hands continue on their mission and move to her hips where they hock onto the tops of her panties and move down taking them with him. Cecilia once again steps out of them and Max takes off his boxers.

Max takes her hand softly and walks them to the bath he steps in and sits down, still holding her hand he helps her in. Cecilia settles in front of him and Max pulls her back, he leans back against the tub with Cecilia pressed into him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath relaxing.

Max is looking out the big window at the view the sun is sitting and the sea is right in front of them and he's reminded why he chose this house and why he pays a lot of money for it. For moments like this, where he's with the person he loves the most and they spend their times together.

They sit in the hot water in silence for a long time, but it doesn't feel awkward and it's not as intense as it was before, both have a lot on their minds, so many things could happen and they have to think about all the possibilities and what they'll do in each case. The silence is something that they needed, they just needed to be together in each other's presence, the comfort of having someone just sit there and hold you, and you don't have to say anything for them to understand what you're feeling.

A sudden thought popped in Cecilia's mind, and before she second guessed herself or give it much thought the words spilled from her mouth. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Soulmates? That's random." Max hummed his hands moving to her waist under the water, his thump rubbing softly at the skin. "No, I don't think they're real."

Maybe it was because he's a child of divorce, or maybe it's because he didn't realise right away that Cecilia is the one for him, but either way, he doesn't believe in them.

"I don't think they're real, at least not fully... but I feel like if there's ever soulmates, that you're mine."

Max moved his head to her shoulder and pulled her closer if that was even possible. Max presses his lips to her sweet spot, Cecilia closes her eyes once more, leaning her head back and to the side. Her hands move to his hair and she pulls slightly, Max whines, his lips find their way to her neck, kissing and sucking leaving his mark on her body, he’s everywhere, his hands are moving all over her, her breath catches in her throat, before she breathes his name like a mantra. “Max.”

After their time in the bathtub and the water has long since gone cold they get out, dry themselves and get dressed. Cecilia goes to the kitchen where she and Alex had ingredients out to make lunch, Cecilia puts everything back where it belongs, deciding to order something for her and Max.

”Schatje!” Max calls coming out of the bedroom.

”In the kitchen.” She calls back and Max comes in phone in hand.

"My team just called me, a video of what happened today was posted online.” Cecilia moved to his side and looks at his phone, a shaky video is playing but there’s no mistaken that it’s the three F1 drivers and her ex, she sees Max throwing the first punch and the fight that happens after that, Mathew’s face is clear and it’ll take no time before it’s public knowledge who he is and how they once dated.

”Our PR teams will not like what’s about to happen.” Cecilia mutters.

”They’ll have to deal with it.” Max knows they’re in trouble but there’s not much they can do. What’s done is done and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Love the I don’t give a fuck mindset.” Cecilia says and squeezes his cheeks with one hand. “What are we having for dinner?”

”Can we have tomato soup and whatever you want?”

“Sure thing.” Cecilia said kissed his cheek and picked her phone to order, they were planning to have a chill night just the two of them and the leaked video isn’t about to change that.

The next two days, things were crazy online, but their day to day life was quite everything was going smoothly, until it wasn’t.

Fans(also known as detectives) find out who Mathew was, they also find pictures of a young Cecilia with Mathew and have deducted that they were dating once upon a time, and it wasn’t long before rumours of him being Nathalie’s dad were all over social media, conspiracy theories, comparison pictures and everything in between. It all came to a head when Mathew released a statement, Cecilia’s world turned upside down.

“Ceceilia and I used to date when she was still in F3 and before that, we were the young couple with the world ahead of us, and for a small mistake I've made she's refused me my daughter and named another man her father, I wasn't given the chance to know my girl to see her grow up or to hear her call me daddy, in fact now I'm subjected to hearing her call another man daddy. I personally find it unfair and unjust.”

“What the actual fuck is wrong with him.” Laurent was pissed off, he didn't care about the look his mother gave him for cursing, the family was gathered for a get together during the winter break and Mathew just decided to ruin it like he's been doing lately. “I want to punch him so bad.”

“You're not the only one.” Max muttered, the kids were playing in the game room Cecilia's mum had made for her grandkids, so the adults were speaking freely.

“Börje what about his father, you said you could talk to him.” Adeline asked her husband, worried sick for her daughter and granddaughter.

“I've left a massage with his secretary, but they haven't heard from them.” Börje was not happy, he wasn't happy at all. He usually left his daughter to do as she pleases deal with everything the way she liked but this is a step too far.

“And his family, are you sure they'll help?” Max asked, he's the only one who never met them, and he only knows the little that came up while talking with Ceceilia.

“If they care about their company.” The threat was clear in Börje's voice.

“I'm afraid he won't though.” Cecilia mutters and they all turn to look at her. “I mean, I think I know how Mathew is, and I have a feeling that he's not on good terms with his family, he's not the kind of person to make news like that knowing it'll get back to his family and they wouldn't be pleased with him.”

Cecilia looks at Max by her side, he doesn't know anything about her relationship with Mathew or how their dynamic worked , he didn’t know how close she and Mathew were, she planned her life with him and then she got pregnant and all those dreams flew out the window. Max takes her hand and squeezes it.

”We’ll figure it out.” Börje said and took out his phone to try and contact his family again the Walkers were very famous and very big in the UK but they need the Hanssons to function, for their businesses to not fail.

It was only over an hour later that Börje got a call back. Cecilia and Max were on the blconey talking, Laurent and his wife were checking on the kids so he was with Adeline. A lengthy phone call between Börje and Mathew’s dad, Börje was told the inner workings of the family recently, the problems Mathew has been causing. David, Mathew’s dad, had no idea about Nattie, he had no idea he had a granddaughter out there and he did say that if he knew that he would’ve made Mathew stay and take accountability. Börje told him that this is why he didn’t inform him, his daughter and granddaughter didn’t need a father that’s forced to be there.

”Go get Cecilia and Max.” Adeline went and got the couple.

”What did they say papa?” Cecilia asked taking a seat across from her father, her hands rubbing her thighs trying to self comfort herself.

”You were right, Mathew is in trouble with his dad, he made a big mess at a board meeting and has been on the sidelines for a few months, and as a way to get back at his dad he’s been causing a lot of trouble.” Börje told them. “They’ll try to talk to him but there’s no guarantee it’ll work.”

”So we’re on our own then.” Cecilia stated she leaned back and sighed.

”Don’t lose hope yet, mon ange.” Adeline said and took Cecilia’s other side she pulled her in for a hug, kissing her forehead.

”Either way he can’t take her from us.” Max said, putting his hand on Cecilia’s knee.

”Max is right, the lawyers said there’s no way, unless you’re the worst mother there is, there’s no way for a court to give Mathew any rights.” Börje said.

Nathalie went to a friend’s house for a play date, and when Cecilia and Max went to pick her up to go out for dinner she looked upset.

”Thalia, what’s wrong liefje?” Max asked looking at Nathalie in the rare review mirror.

”Can we go home?” The frown on her face didn’t move, her lips pouting.

“You don’t want to eat out?” Cecilia asked concerned, Nattie shakes her head no. “Of course, mon amour, we’ll go home.”

Max and Cecilia share worried looks but say nothing. The ride home is much tenser than it was on the way to drop her off earlier in the day.

Nattie ignores her parents from the car to the apartment, and was planning to just head to her room, but her mum wasn’t about to let her.

”Nattie, please come, we have to talk.” Cecilia calls for her daughter before she could escape. Nattie looks at her mum before her eyes go to Max. “Do you want to talk just you and me? Or you can talk to daddy-“

Before Cecilia could finish, Nathalie was already in tears. Sobs leaving her body shaking, she was practically wailing. It surprised both her parents and they both sprung into action, heading to their girl. Cecilia had her in her arms first, and Nattie clutched her shirt tightly in her hands, hiding her face in Cecilia’s shirt.

”What’s wrong, liefje?” Max whispers trying to see Nattie’s face but she just hid more into Cecilia. “Do you want me to go?”

”NO!” She shouts and turns from Cecilia to look at him stomping her leg, this took both the drivers by surprise, Nathalie is rarely difficult, she’s never thrown a tantrum without any reason, whether they agreed with the reason or not is a different subject.

”Nathalie!” Cecilia scolded her daughter but it only brought more tears. “What’s wrong mon amour? Please just tell us, so we can help you.”

”I-I- I don’t want to have another daddy.” Nathalie said looking up at you, her hands were back to clutching Cecilia’s shirt, she was begging her now.

”What?” Cecilia whispered. “Okay, let’s sit down and talk, okay?” They moved to the sofa, Max squeezed Cecilia’s hand in comfort before they sat down with Nathalie in between them.

”What are you talking about, mon ange? Max is your daddy.” Cecilia pushed Nathalie’s hair out of her face, looking at her red face wet from all the tears.

”Laura said that I’m going to have another daddy, but I don’t want him, I only want Maxie, he’s my daddy, Laura said that you’re going to make another man my daddy, and I don’t want it, I just want daddy, I just want him.” Max couldn’t help but pull Nathalie softly away from Cecilia and into his arms, the girl instantly hugged him, her hands wrapping around his neck and clutching his shirt, and the tears continued to flow.

”You’re my baby girl, and that’s never going to change, yeah?” Max said softly patting her back, Cecilia was fighting tears herself, she felt so bad for not talking to Nathalie about it but she just never thought she’d find out through her friend, they’ve all been so good at keeping her away from all the drama. “You’re my liefje, you’re my daughter, the one I love the most and there’s no changing that, as long as you want me, I’ll always be your dad.”

”Please don’t leave me.” Nathalie whispered her sobs have calmed, but she was still tearing up.

”I won’t, I promise.”

Nathalie hadn’t let go of Max until she fell asleep, Cecilia debated walking her up for dinner but seeing how exhausted Nathalie looked she just let her sleep. Max placed her in her bed, while Cecilia waited for him in their bedroom. They seem to mean there a lot lately to just talk about everything Mathew related.

Max sits next to Cecilia, their shoulders brushing.

”She looked so heartbroken.” Cecilia whispered, there’s a lump in her throat and it seemed to be choking her slowly.

”Yeah… we need to solve this as fast as possible.” Max sighed and closed his eyes to think, there has to be a way to get rid of Mathew for good. He’s doing all this for attention from the public, to get back at his parents, and to just ruin their lives. Mathew must’ve known that there’s no way he’d get Nathalie, he’s the one that signed the papers. He’s the one that disappeared, he’s the one that’s been seen hanging around women in Monaco since he’s been back in the country. “Do you have a copy of the papers?”

”What papers?”

“The ones he signed his rights away.”

”Yeah, papa, has the original ones, but I have a copy, why?”

”I’m going to need them.”

It took a week before Mathew released another statement.

”My family has come in contact with me after they shunned me months ago, and I was happy, maybe they wanted to come in contact with me again, but they just wanted to keep their pockets filled with Hansson money and asked me leave my girl, to not care about her and to move on.

Well, to that I say fuck you, fuck you all, I’m taking this to court, I’m going to have my daughter back, I want part of the custody, I want her to know who her father is, I have the rights, and I’m not backing down.”

Not even 15 minutes later team Max Verstappen released a statement.

”It’s sad for Max and Cecilia, to have intimate parts of their private life so out to the public, not for them but for Nathalie. They want to inform everyone that Mathew has no rights to Nathalie, as he signed his rights away in the early stages of Cecilia’s pregnancy and has never tried to come in contact with her since. He’s not on the birth certificate or any other document. Thus, he will not be able to take Cecilia to court. We’ve included a picture of the documents he signed to give his parental rights away, furthermore we’ve done our own research and discovered that Mathew has many children out there in the world that he’s never seen or come in contact with. That’s all the couple is willing to say, thank you for understanding and please give the family time to deal with what has happened. See you on track!”

“This is why you wanted the papers?” Cecilia asked coming into the sim room, with her phone in her hands, she’s amused, she’s happy and she’s relieved.

”He had it coming.” Max said not looking away from his sim.

”How did you find out about other women?” Cecilia asked confused, Max shrugged.

”Hired a private investigator.”

”Wow, remind me not to get on your bad side.” Cecilia joked and giggled.

”Couldn’t do that even if you tried.” Max said simply and the smile on her face grew.

”Really?” She raised an eyebrow and Max hummed. “Even if I do this?”

Cecilia dropped on his lap ending his perfect lap, Max’s hands instinctively left the wheel to land on her hips to steady her.

”Even if you do this.”

”What about if I do this?” She asked and leaned close so her face was millimetre away from his.

”Even then.”

”What about this?” She presses her lips to his, Max pulls her closer. She’s driving him crazy, his hand is at the back of her head holding her head just how he likes it, making her moan into the kiss.

”Especially this.” Max manages to get out between kisses, his voice already sounding out of breath.

Later that day with the couple getting ready to head to bed, Max comes up behind Cecilia who sat at her vanity doing her skincare routine. His arms find their place on her shoulders before they move down her arms to her elbows and then to her waist, he pulls her up just enough for him to slip under her and she’s sitting on his lap. All the while she’s just continuing with what she was doing, Max places his head on her shoulder and looks at her through the mirror.

”You’re so touchy today.” Cecilia teased Max lightheartedly.

”Says the one that came in and kissed me and then lured me into sex.” Max smirks enjoying the blush that covered her cheeks, he loves how he still gets her to blush like that.

”Well, I don’t remember you not liking it.” Cecilia manages to say.

”No I certainly liked it.” Max mumbles and kisses her shoulder, before he’s back at looking at her.

”What’s up?”

”Nothing, I’m just happy, we’re together.” Max said softly and Cecilia smiles at him through the mirror.

”Me too, more than anything.” Cecilia replied just as softly. “Did I mention how much I find it sexy when you fight for me and Nattie?”

“You can’t love someone and not fight for them, being with you and loving you, makes me want to fight everyone and everything that bothers you.” Max’s tone is serious, an opposite to Cecilia’s teasing one.

“And I’d do the same… but somehow everyone is already scared of you.” Cecilia giggles at the unamused look Max gives her, at the sound of her giggles, her hugs her closer and smiles.

”Come on, I’m done.”

Mathew drops off the face of the earth after the statement from Max, a few women came online and posted videos of their own experience with Mathew, all having his children. The one good thing that came out of him going public, is that his family is now sending money to those women who have Mathew’s children and are struggling financially. They of course disowned him and released a statement saying they had no knowledge of his doings and they’re no longer associated with him.

But the biggest fuck you came on Cecilia’s instagram…

ceciliahansson15

Tagged, maxverstappen1

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel, and 4,345,356 others

ceciliahansson15 Guess I’m the only non-Verstappen in the house from now on 🤷‍♀️

view all 902,234 comments

username1 the plot twist

username2 I can’t ☠️

username3 say what again????

username4 honestly you go max claming your daughter as you should 👏

username78 as he should 🙇‍♀️

username98 max winning on and off the track

username09 next step, we’ll have 2 verstappens on track 👀

username26 pop the question and dont be a pussy max 💍

username37 i think he’s droves he’s not a pussy, bro claimed her daughter and gave her his last name before he even proposed

lewishamilton gongrats sending you all love 💐

ceciliahansson15 thank you lew 🫶

charles_leclerc you know i’m still her favourite right?

maxverstappen1 don’t know about that mate

charles-leclerc want me to call 😏

maxverstappen1 NO!

charles_leclerc I rest my case

ceciliahansson15 🙄

Usename48 I love how they like to use Insta to just say f you to everyone

Username229 seriously instagram should give them money over all the interactions it's getting them

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 . @barcelonaloverf1life . @lilipiggytails . @rebelatbay . @christianpulisic10 . @ironmaiden1313 . @dark-night-sky-99 . @amalialeclerc . @bborra . @allsouls-emma . @buckybarns4life . @distancedss . @xoscar03 . @aquangxl . @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy . @theseerbetweenus .

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #my girls #max verstappen x oc #max one shot #mv1 #mv33 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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crippleprophet · 1 year

Text

rules of engagement before we begin: do not seek the original post out to interact with it negatively or harass op in any way. if i find out about anybody doing that sort of shit i’ll block them so quick it’ll be the fastest i’ve moved all year. ok thx here we go

[image description: three screenshots of a post with the username blacked out. the introductory & closing paragraphs are as follows, & the bullet points will be listed within the body of this post. the introduction reads:

nobody warns you this but addiction happens without you noticing and one of the first things that it attacks is your ability to care. if you find yourself using recreational drugs every day, stop and take one day a week sober. if you struggle with this or if you don't see the point of the exercise, you are likely already addicted and you need help.

nobody ever taught me the warning signs for drug addiction, only that "it costs lots of money and destroys your life!!!1" which is not helpful if you can't recognize a developing addiction in yourself. so here's some things to watch out for with recreational drug use.

the conclusion reads: yes this applies to weed. weed is a drug and you can get addicted to it like any other substance. addiction is not the same as physical dependence; it is psychological and it can happen to anyone. you are not immune to addiction. end image description.]

now! fundamentally why i will never align with this kind of perspective is that i affirm addiction as a social construct, like all so-called mental illnesses, & the psychiatric institution which invents & reifies them as a fucking sham.

answer quickly:

what substances is it possible for one to become addicted to? does this include caffeine? why or why not?

is the claim of sugar addiction legitimate or anti-fat pseudoscience? what, if anything, differentiates this from other addiction science?

what is the harm of the so-called opioid epidemic: access to a safe supply of narcotics, or the lack thereof?

can an autistic person who eats the same dinner every night, for example, be said to be “psychologically addicted” to it if they have a meltdown & subsequent ongoing distress + disinterest in food when it is discontinued?

can you be addicted to psychiatric medication? immunosuppressants? why or why not?

my point is less that these behaviors are not indicative of addiction but rather that that wouldn’t inherently make them harmful. fuck it, let’s take it point by point!

planning your day around drugs e.g "i'll give myself an extra half hour before heading out so i can get high first"

this whole post had me asking “literally what is the problem with this,” starting with this first bullet! why does someone need to leave for the grocery store at 5:30 instead of 6, or whatever? and the other recurring theme: what happens if you replace “drugs” with “pain management”? (chronic pain is not the only valid reason to get high—all reasons for drug use are equally value-neutral—but it certainly still is one.) “i’ll give myself an extra half hour before heading out for my pain management to start working” is the kind of calculation familiar to most people with chronic pain. “stop and take one day a week without pain management” is not a test of whether you “need help,” it’s torture.

now, disregarding one’s priorities or commitments to other people in favor of drugs can happen, & in many circumstances it’s harmful to the other people impacted. that’s not what was said here, & stopping that behavior does not require getting sober.

rapidly switching emotions around drugs. you love them but you hate that you love them so much. you hate the way you feel on them but you hate being sober. feeling guilty after using even when you didn't give a crap beforehand.

do you know what else i love but hate that i love, what else i hate using? my fucking bed. three years ago, my mobility scooter. this is not a logical argument, this is a bullshit argument. my feelings about something do not inherently reflect its harm to others – or to myself, even, though i firmly argue for the right to make “self-harmful” decisions regardless.

you know what people hate being on but hate worse being off? the vast fucking majority of medications.

why might a drug user start to feel guilty when they previously didn’t? being shamed by friends, family, or a fucking tumblr post; surpassing a constructed threshold of “acceptable” use they didn’t know they’d internalized; experiencing new or greater access issues; beginning to probe their morality around drugs & unpack things they were taught; experiencing consequences of criminalization; getting triggered.

caring less about spending money. if you are budgeting for drugs like they are food, you are likely prioritizing them more than is healthy.

“if you are budgeting for pain management like it’s as important as food, you are likely prioritizing it more than is healthy.” health is absolutely useless as a value for me anyway, but: the food’s no good if i’m too nauseous or too dead to eat it.

prioritizing drugs over other people’s financial needs is harmful! this wouldn’t happen if food & drugs were provided to people; some people wouldn’t need as many drugs if their needs were met otherwise; people’s needs being met shouldn’t be dependent on their parent / partner / self not using drugs; this harm is not what the bullet says.

getting high to do household chores and other unpleasant things because it would suck less and be more bearable on drugs

“things should suck. because god wills it i said so.”

feeling anxious or restless while sober, not knowing what to do with oneself, feeling lost or ungrounded.

again just. what’s the problem with that. so what if being sober sucks or is boring or stressful or demanding. so what if someone decides to deal with that sober or decides to use more because of that. who gives a shit.

thinking about doing drugs constantly even while sober. maybe it's the first thing you think of when you wake up. maybe when you're bored or otherwise have free time, drugs are one of the first things you can think of to occupy yourself with.

“thinking about getting better pain management constantly when you’re in pain”

i feel like you’re gonna tell me the only thing that can really take my pain away is jesus

again like. what is the problem with doing drugs because you’re bored. why do i need to occupy myself, what, fucking productively?

going to work or school while under the influence, especially if it happens regularly and if you're seeing your performance suffer as a result.

what’s wrong with going to school high. derailing a class discussion is a dick move, maybe, but that’s not inherent to being high. work & performance are both very broad terms – a surgeon or someone operating heavy machinery not being sober is putting others at risk of harm in a way a cashier is not.

the idea of taking a 'tolerance break' sounds good to you until it's actually break time, at which point you can come up with 20 very reasonable sounding points to explain why it wouldn't benefit you actually and you should just keep doing drugs regardless.

y’all think this is incredibly circular logic too right? “drugs are bad, so telling yourself drugs are not bad is proof that they’re bad.” took me right back to the sunday school classroom and i wish i was fucking exaggerating. it’s an argument founded upon the inherent wrongness of trusting yourself – what you want to do must be wrong because you want it. this is one of the points that’s a more solid indicator of, like, “congrats! you’re now in circumstances doctors are salivating to psychiatrize as XYZ Use Disorder,” but that doesn’t make it any less nonsense as a moral argument.

even if you succeed at quitting the drug, you keep your dealer's number on your phone "just in case"

so what. what’s wrong with giving yourself the continual autonomy to choose whether or not to do drugs. what’s wrong with quitting drugs for a while and starting using again.

you pretend to be sober when you aren't. you worry about other people noticing how much time you spend high. you make efforts to hide your drug use or minimize how much other people think you're using. you're scared of other people's judgement if they were to find out.

this one might be the most ludicrous to me, which is really saying something. “if other people being bigoted towards drug users makes you pretend to use less than you do, that’s your fault & not theirs.” cool! thanks for the quick heads up to not believe a word you say!

you have mood swings laced with self-hatred, regret, financial worries, and guilt. these mood swings are then very quickly wiped away by feelings of "but it doesn't matter, i can do what i want, and clearly i'm doing just fine while using drugs frequently". news flash, if you are rapidly switching between feeling numb-ok and hating yourself more than anything because of your drug use, you are mentally ill.

again, “the norm knows you better than you know yourself, you can’t listen to yourself, the body is wrong, wanting is wrong, pleasure is wrong, you are wrong wrong wrong.” but god, what a beautiful example of how oppression is psychiatrized: it’s not enough for the oppression to have worked, the system must then convince us that the effects of it working are our own fault. it’s not enough to just kill us with us fully aware of the knife, it’s gotta convince us we’re bleeding out for no reason. if you want any moments of pleasure during your miserable godforsaken little life you’d better put your nose back on the goddamn grindstone and repent. everything around you for your entire life has told you to hate yourself for your drug use but if the combined force of that violence works you are mentally ill, and that is the worst crime of all.

according to this post, when is it okay to use drugs, then? well, not planned into your day, and not at work or school, but not when you’re bored or have been thinking about it too much, and not if anyone who’d judge you or you don’t trust knowing you’re high or you just don’t want knowing is around, and not if you don’t want to quit, but also not if you’ve quit already. you have to hate your drug use otherwise that’s proof it’s attacked your ability to care but hating your drug use is proof you should stop. #JustSayNo

#& yes i wrote this stoned #substance use #drug use #addiction #drugs #long post #stigma #mac.txt #habitual intertwinement

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archangel-1 · 3 months

Text

Hi there!

This is an 18+ blog. Amongst other things, it’s to vent my sexual fantasies, thoughts, and feelings.

My DMs are open, however messages do pile up quite fast, I will likely not reply unless your message stood out to me. The fastest way to get a reply is through my asks/inbox

This blog does contain hard/darker kinks, if that is not for you/ you are not interested in that, please leave and/or block me. Everything in your sexual life should be safe, consensual, and with someone you trust🖤

[All my posts/pictures are tagged ‘mine’ or ‘my pics’+ other tags below ⬇️’]

About me

21 F (she/her)

Not looking for an online sub or a 24/7 dynamic

Pansexual

5’0 | curvyish?

Switch/ though this blog will lean more into the dominant role

Soft domme most of the time

Outside of kink I like reading, drawing, art history, movies, comic books, astronomy(science generally), and philosophy

Kinks (mainly are but are not limited to), since I am a switch most of these go both ways

!Edging/orgasm denial!

Chastity

Light feminization

Md/lb (not incest though)/ mistress/slave

CNC [+CNC adjacent kinks]

Limits

ABDL

Cuckholding

Blood

Needles

Scat

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artdcnaldson · 1 month

Note

that blurb of patrick w the baby…… cat im spiraling…….

forever thinking of dad!patrick… uncle!patrick….. with urs and arts baby….

but also like…. reader x artrick…. idk someone u know has a baby and asks u to babysit…… the boys r sooo scared kinda but also seeing u take care of a baby… ur a natural….

-🩰

Patrick with kids ougghhhhh my weakness <3 also IVE MISSED U BABE

“Uncle” Patrick with you and Art’s baby :((( but now I’m thinking about Patrick being so scared to hold you and Art’s baby because it’s so fragile and small and perfect and his family is so fucked up he feels like he’ll ruin her just through association :(((

Like, his hands start shaking so bad whenever he holds her, he’s got this weird mental block where he feels like he needs to resent her for changing things so much. Like it’s her fault. He knows he cares about the baby— she’s yours and Art’s for christssake— but isn’t it better to push that distance now so he doesn’t ruin her life later.

And you and Art want her to call him Dad too, which makes him want to puke. Patrick, who got a vasectomy at age 24. Dad. He can’t do that. He can’t be that. He knows that, even if you and Art are too blind to see it yourselves.

But you and Art see things too. You see the way Patrick is the first one to wake up when she gets fussy at night, the person who can calm her down the fastest. It’s like he has a voice for soothing, for murmuring little made up bedtime stories that ease her back to sleep. If Patrick ever found out you or Art heard, he’d jump off a bridge. He’s so attuned, so instinctive. It’s like she’s his blood as much as she is Art’s, as she is yours.

She cries and Patrick cries with her because it makes his heart physically ache in a way he can’t explain and he doesn’t want to examine. He reads pages of Art’s parenting book bc he wants to do better. Patrick is as much of a parent as anyone else. You and Art love Patrick, you all love your baby. The semantics will settle where they do, where you’ve known they will.

#🩰 anon

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1d1195 · 1 year

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Traditional VIII

Well this is the fastest I've ever written. Sorry to leave you hanging on part 7 like that. You can read Traditional here.

I actually wanted this part to be longer but I think I stopped it at a good spot to continue with what I want in the next part but the next part will be a hot minute before it’s posted also part 9 will pick up right where this leaves off.

Warnings: angst (see I remembered the word this time), death mentioned, mourning, (etc.)

“Can I help you?”

She stopped by the bathroom to take stock of what she looked like as soon as she got to the floor. She put the bag at her feet and stood in front of the sink counter and gripped the edge. The pain in her arm from her slip ached from the bruise forming on her forearm and rippled up the length of her arm as she held onto the counter. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked in the mirror.

Ill. She looked ill. From a green complexion to her red eyes. Her nose was cold and reddening by the second making her look like she had a cold. Bloodshot eyes and overall, just the pallor of a ghost. Her head ached and it was a dumb idea to come back to work. Surely, she would mess up more things. But there wasn’t much else she could do and nowhere else she could really go.

Slowly she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest in defeat. Then tilted her neck all the way back to the ceiling. “Goddamn it,” she hissed to herself. Grabbing her bag, she walked swiftly back to her office. Maybe she would just sit there and stare at her computer screen until Harry finally fired her.

Niall covered the microphone with his hand. “Darling?” He asked curiously as the door to her office opened. “I’ll call y’back,” he dropped his phone back to the receiver and he hurried to her little space. “I thought—”

“I have no where to go,” she said curtly. Niall didn’t deserve her abrupt tone, but it was the only one she could give. This day was so awful, and she had nowhere to go except the one place she would most assuredly run into at least half of her problems. And that was her best option.

Without a debit card, she had no way to get to the hospital. Her apartment belonged to Harry and right now she didn’t want to be anywhere that was associated with him and the part of her life with him outside company walls. Her laptop was broken and even if she could use it her brain wouldn’t function.

“What are you talking—your apartment?” He reminded her with a question in his voice.

“You mean Harry’s apartment?”

“Love, all things considered, he wouldn’t kick you out or something... he wouldn’t do that to you. Not even on his worst day.”

She shook her head. That’s not what she meant but it was a new fear that twisted her stomach in knots on top of everything else. The tears flooded back into her vision. “I don’t want to talk about any of this Niall. I just want to work so I don’t have to think. If I have even a second to think about anything but work, I’m going to explode, and I can’t do that in front of you—”

“Sure, you can,” he said encouragingly. “Come on,” he said and tugged her out of her seat and into his office. She was too weak to do anything but follow obligingly. He gently guided her to the sofa he had in the room and hurried to his desk. He scribbled something, practically ran back to the door, and smacked the paper on the front before shutting it, blocking out the rest of the floor.

“What’s that?” She asked, curiosity getting the best of her as she looked at her hands in her lap.

“Says ‘Do not disturb. Meeting in progress.’”

“You’re going to get in trouble because of me,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I know the boss pretty well.”

“That’s especially why.”

“He left for the day.”

She blinked. “What?” She asked softly. Other than being sick, Harry didn’t leave early. Ever. Most often he stayed late. The rest he left on time and not a moment sooner.

“He wasn’t feeling himself,” Niall said with a shrug. “Think you know why,” he was so casual about it. Her heart fluttered with worry despite how angry he was with her. How was she supposed to feel? She was in love with him. It didn’t matter. “Go on, then. Please tell me. I’ve been dying to help you as much as you help me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t Niall. You’re my boss—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, love. You’re also the love of my best friend’s life. Would you just talk to me already?” She looked at him as if she was really seeing him for the first time. She couldn’t believe he said that out loud. Now she understood why he put the note up. He wasn’t doing this as her boss. This was Harry’s best friend. If she could dream or hope about a future with Harry, he would be one of her best friends, too. “Pretend I’m not your boss right now.”

She apparently didn’t need much more encouragement for her already bubbling emotions to flow over. Poor Niall took it all in stride. Every word that exploded out of her, all the tears, everything. It wasn’t like when she talked to Harry, and it definitely wasn’t like when she talked to Louis. She told him all about the last twenty-four hours from Hell. She listed every inconvenience, every heartbreak. The debit card, the mean coworker, her dad, how her coffee tasted bad and got everywhere, her laptop was broken, and Louis and Eleanor were her only friends, and she couldn’t even go see them. “And of course, Harry hates me, so I didn’t get to see him last night,” she finished blubbering. She didn’t give lots of details on most anything, just the coworker since that was one of the only ones that she could see him dealing with. Not that she wanted him to.

“To be fair, I think Harry hates me, right now,” he smirked sadly.

“That’s almost worse,” she sniffled.

Niall rolled his eyes as he rubbed her back soothingly with the palm of his hand and watched her dab her eyes with the tissues he got from his desk. “He hates me because he thinks I’m stealing you away because you didn’t tell him any of that. And he’s mad that you didn’t want to tell him. He thought your relationship was evolving and you took like ten steps back without a word. Christ darling, I’m mad you for not saying anything about the harassment. That is not okay. You’re not plain, you’re lovely. She’s just jealous.”

She found it interesting that he agreed with Louis’s assessment. “That’s what Louis said, even before she talked to me.”

Niall shook his head. “She was extremely cruel for no reason, I’m so sorry, love. You did not deserve that.”

She shrugged awkwardly, defeated still. Even getting all of that off her chest. “I am plain. It’s why I was so worried about my... situation with Harry...I don’t...” she took a deep breath. “You’re not my boss right now?” She repeated his statement as a question for reassurance. He shook his head.

“Just a really good friend,” he promised. “I won’t tell Harry,” he added for good measure.

“I don’t even think he’ll want to sleep with me because I’m so ordinary and...” Despite his talk with Niall and that fact they were both aware of her relationship with Harry, she still didn’t like bringing it up. Plus, the untraditional details were lost on her, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to Niall awkwardly.

“Love,” Niall smirked. “Harry is...infatuated with you,” he promised. “You don’t have to worry about any of that kind of thing. He would—look I don’t want to say it because it sounds like locker room talk and I don’t want you to think he and I talk about you like that. We don’t, I promise—but that’s not something you need to worry about. I’ve never seen him like this about anyone he’s ever been involved with romantically one way or another.”

It made her heart hope, and she hated it. She was prepared for defeat. Harry wouldn’t be in love with her anymore. They wouldn’t get dinner on Mondays or watch movies on Thursdays. There would be no more little sleepovers where he would be sick and accidentally tell her he loved her and forget by morning. She shook her head. “Niall, I...” She swallowed.

“Please tell me you’re in love with him, I’ve been dying for you to say it almost as much as he has.”

The smallest pause. Niall wasn’t her boss. “Of course, I’m in love with him. How can you not be?” She asked, face blushing, as she stared at her hands.

Niall sighed. “You need to tell him what you told me,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, it’s not his problem. I’m a big girl and...I have to handle it.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he promised her. “I don’t know everything, but I see the way you work, and I know bits and pieces of what Harry is willing to tell me. I know you want to fix every problem that crosses your path for anyone that has one. If you walked into your office and spoke to the you that sits at your computer, how would you help?” He asked. “Would you tell yourself to keep it all bottled up or take a hike and deal with it yourself? Or would you, the person who helps everyone with anything they may need, help you?”

She took a deep breath. The first bit of clarity over the last twelve hours was finally reaching her ears from Niall. “I would help.”

“Then help yourself, darling. Please. Tell Harry.”

She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. “I think I have to go to the hospital first,” she said to Niall. “But I don’t have a debit card or a ride.”

“Call Harry’s driver. He won’t care. Or I’ll take you, I don’t mind at all,” Niall reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his plastic cards. “I think this has a 25,000-spending limit,” he smirked. “I’d be impressed if you used all of it in one weekend,” he smiled. “Bring it back Monday,” he shrugged. “Definitely use it to get a new laptop when you have time.”

Sucking her lip into her mouth she awkwardly took the card “Please don’t tell Harry about...her...”

He frowned. “Darling,” his tone was so disapproving. It sounded like that was going to be Niall’s first call. Maybe second if he called the bitchy woman down to his office to fire her after the sweet girl left.

“He’ll fire her.”

“As he should! She harassed you!”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please, Niall,” she whispered.

He sighed bitterly. If even one thing that happened to her over the last day didn’t happen, he wouldn’t have listened. But she had been through enough and he didn’t want to be the cause of any more of her anxiety. Besides, once he was officially forgiven by Harry, he would ask for front row seats to her exit interview. “Okay, darling. I won’t. Go to the hospital. Then you have to go to Harry’s.”

Harry’s driver was kind throughout the ride and didn’t ask her a single question about why she needed to go to a hospital. In fact, other than asking if she wanted to listen to a certain type of music, he didn’t ask any questions. “Won’t Harry notice?” She eventually asked.

“No,” he shrugged one shoulder as he passed towards the streets that used to be home. She lived an hour away now, but it felt like an entirely foreign country right now. “Probably not. If he needed me, I would probably send another one of the drivers from the company,” he said simply.

The remainder of the drive was silent. Her heart beating erratically with every closer turn to the town she left. “Do you need help?” He asked when they arrived at the hospital. She shook her head steeling herself for the horribleness she was about to endure in so many emotional forms.

“No... thank you,” she said gratefully. “And... if you have to leave... I understand. But could you please...don’t tell Harry.”

“Of course, Miss,” he smiled encouragingly. Taking her work bag with her, she stepped out of the car and headed into the hospital.

It was a little over an hour later that she left the hospital with one less parent in existence. Although, she hadn’t had two parents since before her brother died, she felt saddened knowing that it would never be amended. And for her mom, it would never be the same. She would always be alone, now.

Naturally, it didn’t seem to bother her mother all that much. “I’ll never forgive you,” her mom said with tears in her eyes. “You can leave now.”

When it came to her parents, there wasn’t much she could do but listen. Part of her wanted to appease them and hope that eventually they would love her again. So of course, after she said goodbye there was nothing left for her to do except listen to her mother’s request.

Her loss didn’t feel as sad as it should have. Probably because when her brother passed, she didn’t just lose her brother. She lost her best friend and her parents all in one swoop. Mourning her brother at age sixteen when her friends were buying prom dresses and going on college tours in hopes of meeting college boys was a tragedy that Shakespeare wouldn’t write.

There was nothing like mourning the death of people who were still alive and lived with you every day.

When she exited the hospital room, she called the driver once more who told her to wait five minutes and he would pull around so she wouldn’t have to wait in the cold. She stood outside anyway, for the full five minutes letting the cold wash over her. She was already numb. Everything that had happened in such a short amount of time was numbing her. The cold didn’t even hurt because she was already in so much pain.

All she wanted was to see Harry. Her chest ached at the thought of being held by him. It would cure her broken heart, she was certain.

She sniffled and a few stray tears spilt over her lash line. Without her realizing, she got more teary as she waited, only noticing when his driver reappeared. “Miss,” the driver said hurriedly. He was rushing over to her on the sidewalk reaching for her bag and offered her a tissue from his pocket. He placed a hand on her lower back to guide her up the sidewalk to the car. “Is everything alright? Are you—”

She shook her head, tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She opened the door herself as he looked on with worry. “I’m fine,” she whispered but her voice broke on the word fine. “Can you take me to Harry’s?”

The closer she got to his house, the more anxious and sadder she got. As he parked in the driveway, she strongly considered telling him to take her back to the apartment. However, she all but promised Niall she would come here. Maybe these tears would make him listen at least for a moment. Wringing her hands together, she sat silently, awkwardly in her seat before the driver even made a move after several minutes. With a deep breath, she swallowed and pushed the door out of the way. “Can you wait five more minutes in case he really hates me, and I need to leave?” She asked.

The driver chuckled dryly. “He doesn’t hate you, but I’ll wait,” he said.

She made her way across the path and up the steps to his front door. She knocked and was prepared to stare at her feet the whole time she waited for Harry to open the door. Maybe she even planned to stare at her feet if he was willing to talk to her. She was going to beg or cry (probably both) just for five minutes to explain everything. Five minutes to try and fix her broken heart.

“Can I help you?”

Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly. It felt like she was swallowing her tongue. She backed away, nearly losing her balance as she did. She wanted to be embarrassed about almost losing her balance but even standing upright she felt like she was swaying and the only thing she felt was betrayal and she had no right to feel that way.

“Whoa, hey,” the girl said reaching for her before she fell back off the steps. She regained her balance and felt like her stomach was going to heave up anything she had eaten—which wasn’t the time to remember but she realized she only had a bagel and a coffee this morning almost twelve hours ago.

Of course, Harry would find someone else. He was...him. He had money and he could have any girl he wanted. Someone beautiful. Someone who didn’t have all the baggage that she did. Someone who didn’t hide from him and someone who would do what a companion like her was supposed to do.

“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” She asked tilting her head curiously, trying to figure out who she was. Like this was normal for her to be answering the door and for her to be standing there. “Are you alright?” She asked gently.

She wished she wasn’t nice. It was making it harder for her to be mad. Seeing this kind woman opening the door to the house of the man she was in love with would have been so much easier if she could have been mad. But she was just heartbreakingly sad. “N-no...I...I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she repeated hurrying down the few steps and nearly missed the last one tripping into the yard. So much so, she lost one of her shoes. Worse yet in her fit of non-embarrassment, just total shock, she left it there. “Oh my God,” she whimpered to herself. She was now truly worried she would throw up. She turned quickly and practically ran back for the driveway.

“Kitten?!” Harry shouted from somewhere in the house.

“Hey, wait!” The woman called suddenly.

“Fuck,” she heard Harry hiss as she hurried back to the car, tears falling quickly down her cheeks as she awkwardly limped without her shoe the path to the driveway. With her head start she thought she really might make it in the car and drive away before Harry got to her. But he had much longer legs...and he wasn’t bogged down by missing a shoe. “Goddammit! Love, stop!” He shouted running across the yard. She pulled the door handle quickly trying to get away from this house, but the door smacked shut at the same time. Harry’s hand pressed to the window while the other grabbed her arm right where it bruised. She inhaled sharply in pain and winced. Harry dropped her arm like a hot potato, he released a breath out of frustration. “Kitten, stop,” he was out of breath from his short run—but it wasn’t the run making him breathless but the thought of losing her at this moment. She wanted to look up at him and see those perfect green eyes, but she was so scared. “Look at me, please,” he begged. But her eyes stayed glued to the driveway. Harry was only in socks, and she thought that was cute. His feet in socks. It wasn’t the time, but her brain was operating on no sleep and way too much trauma for one day.

Her face crumpled in pain and she shook her head. She couldn’t look at him, if she looked all the pain would boil over and she would start crying and never stop. Why didn’t Harry deserve some woman that would be there for him the way she couldn’t be? Why wouldn’t he want someone beautiful and not plain? Someone who wasn’t so young that she was still in the internship phase. Someone who didn’t need his money or a job. Someone who was brilliant enough to help him with whatever his company and he himself needed.

“Hey,” the woman’s voice suddenly sounded beside her. It was gentle and out of instinct she turned to the direction of the woman that was currently amplifying just how terrible her day could get just by existing. It wasn’t her fault either. She really thought the girl was beautiful and lovely. She was kind to not sneer at her as a sniveling mess. She sniffled looking at her curiously. The beautiful girl handed Harry her missing shoe then stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “M’Gemma,” she said softly, apologetically in tone as she smiled at her with a terrible look of pity directed toward her.

Even though one of the only things she prided herself on was being intelligent this had to be the dumbest thing she had ever done in her whole life. She was speechless. Couldn’t even say her own name as she held her hand out awkwardly and (fortunately for her) instinctively for Harry’s sister to shake.

At the same time, Harry crouched to the ground and placed her shoe back on her foot holding her ankle so gently, like she might break. “I was just going, truly,” Gemma smiled at her sympathetically. “I’ve heard loads about you. I’ll meet you again sometime, yeah?” She asked quietly. Harry was silent throughout the interaction. His breathing erratic as he was hoping she wouldn’t leave. “Bye Harry,” she kissed him on the cheek and Gemma went to the other side of the car and gave the driver a wave before sliding into the back seat. The car drove away leaving her alone with Harry.

“Kitten,” he whispered softly.

“I’ve had a terrible couple of days,” she sniffled tears clouding her vision again. The fear of Harry finding someone else nearly ruined her completely. She was lucky that wasn’t the case. But she still had to have this talk that she promised Niall.

“I know y’have love, I just...Niall texted me...and Louis is worried...and... my love,” his voice was so gentle. It pulled at every string in her heart.

She started to say the speech she had planned in her head when she arrived. Before she saw Gemma. “I know you hate me, but I have nowhere else to go,” she whimpered, and it was all too much, and she finally let her knees give out as she melted to the ground. She covered her face and cried.

“No. Baby, I don’t hate you. Not at all. M’so sorry about everything,” he promised crouching beside her. “Let’s go inside...s’too cold t’have y’out here,” he lifted around her waist to help her stand. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her because whatever demons she was fighting right now had made her weak. But she seemed overwhelmed already and he didn’t want to add to that any more than he already had by not realizing sooner that Gemma was talking to her without her knowing who Gemma was. So, once she was standing again, he held her hand and pulled her back to the house.

Gemma had been extremely helpful in working through Harry’s emotions with him. “You really think Niall of all people would do that to you?” She rolled her eyes.

Harry felt like her little brother at that moment. He didn’t too often anymore because he was always busy with his company, and he was always busy doing things that he never really got a chance to just be the younger sibling and have Gemma take care of him like she used to when they were young. “I think I love her, Gem.”

“Ya think?” She rolled her eyes. Harry sighed. The pair of them were sitting on his sofa and sipping tea. They ordered out for dinner and were now chatting so Harry would calm down. Harry never left work early, but he was so distraught and angry that something had to be done. Gemma came right over, and he told her everything about the girl of his dreams. Unbeknownst to Harry, Gemma was thrilled that Harry cared so deeply about someone in this capacity. Like Niall, she noticed it was so different than anyone he ever involved himself with up to this point in time. She couldn’t wait to tell their mum.

After venting for almost two hours and working through what he needed to do next, Gemma chatted about herself and caught him up on her life. In comparison, it wasn’t much. Work was good and her dating life was good. There wasn’t much to report.

Her phone vibrated. Hey Gem. It was Niall. I know he’s pissed at me, but can you tell him to look at his phone? It’s an emergency.

Frowning, she responded to Niall while she called out to Harry. “Harry, look at your phone. Niall said there’s an emergency.” He was putting the mugs in the sink when Gemma gave him the directions. As he put the phone in his hand, his stomach dropped. He hadn’t looked at it in hours.

He had a message from Niall and a message from an unknown number claiming to be Louis. His chest felt tight. The only thought he managed was that something was wrong with her; and that was the worst kind of thought.

Niall’s said: Harry...you have to talk to her. It’s bad.

Then a second message: Really bad.

He frowned feeling worry for the sweet girl. He almost called her instead of reading Louis’ message, but there was a knock at the door, changing his plan as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. He tapped on the message from Louis. “I’ll answer it on my way out, have a good weekend, Harry!” Gemma called cheerfully. He didn’t even respond because he was busy reading.

Louis’ message was a long one: Hey Harry, it’s Louis. I stole your phone number from her back in August without her knowing. She would kill me for messaging you, but we’re on a plane and... well... she said she was feeling poor and headed to your house. But El and I just figured out WHY she’s poorly. She’s ignoring her phone, or something... Can you please tell her to call me? She probably won’t even tell you, so she won’t be a bother, and I can’t tell you through a text message... I’m sure she doesn’t want to interrupt our weekend either, but... please have her call me back. Or you can when you have her in a stable place... Thank you for taking care of her... I don’t think I’ve ever said that before to you... I don’t trust her with very many people. So, thank you for taking care of my best friend.

It took him a moment to pull himself from the message and that the other voice outside was the sweet girl speaking to Gemma at the door.

“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” Gemma asked gently.

“N-no...I... I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, and Harry shook his head trying to reach the fact that she was there.

“Kitten?!” He shouted. By the time he raced to the door, she was nearing the car. He wondered when the driver got there briefly, but he was nearly sprinting, almost pushing Gemma to the ground, to make sure he got to the car before she did. As she pulled the door handle open sniffling as she desperately tried to leave, he smacked the door shut immediately. He would not let her leave.

Something was wrong with her arm because when he reached for it, she winced in pain and Harry thought he would murder someone if they hurt her. The messages from Niall and Louis scrolling through his mind. “Kitten, stop,” he whispered as she tried to reach for the car again. “Look at me please,” he begged. It had only been a day, but he was a lovesick man. He missed her face and he wanted to see the beautiful eyes he loved so much, the little windows to her soul. Even if he just saw them for a second. But she kept her eyes to the ground. Fortunately, at that moment, Gemma introduced herself.

That’s when Harry put it together that she thought Gemma was some other woman. He didn’t even find it funny, although he wished he could have. He felt so terrible she thought so little of how much she meant to Harry that he would find someone else in less than twenty-four hours.

Now, they were inside. “Where do y’want to sit?” He asked. “The sofa or the bed?”

“I don’t—”

“Love. Please, where will you be most comfortable?” He whispered gently.

“The sofa,” she answered.

He softly nudged her to the living area, taking her coat off before she sat and then he crouched to take her shoes off. Lightly, he pushed the sleeve of her blouse up because he didn’t forget, and he saw the nasty bruise on her arm that made his heart ache with anger. “What happened?” His voice was short. He thought of the messages both Niall and Louis sent him. “Louis texted me. Said you’re ignoring his calls.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw my phone.” He frowned. He was glad she was here. If he tried to call her and she didn’t answer, he would have gone mad with worry. She sniffled. “Harry,” she croaked.

“M’here, kitten,” he promised, and he pushed himself to kneel between her legs and he placed his hands on either side of her face. It felt like fire to touch her like this. He craved it so badly. Not having it at movie night and not seeing her until five minutes ago...and knowing she was hurt? His heart was broken. “Tell me, please,” he begged. “I’ll kill someone if I have to.”

She sighed. “You have to listen to everything before you say something or I won’t be able to finish it all,” she whispered.

“Sure love,” he nodded obediently.

“And you can’t kill or fire anyone.” He didn’t respond because he wasn’t sure he could make that promise to her. Especially if someone caused that bruise. He pressed his lips together, knelt between her legs and held her face to keep her gaze. “It’s not going to make sense, so much went wrong so fast,” she told him.

“I can keep up,” he promised. There was a moment of pause as she collected all her thoughts trying to figure out how to begin.

She began her story. “Someone stole my debit card, and I don’t... As a rule, I don’t use my credit card... at least not right now. I have too many bills and worries to be using it. I can’t wrack up any more debt... So, I basically have no access to my account or money for a week,” Harry took a hand from her face to reach into his pocket for his wallet. That was an easy fix, and he was sad it started off so easy because that meant it was going to get much worse.

She shook her head. “Niall already gave me his, because I needed it to get to the hospital,” she said, stilling his hand from opening his wallet. She gave his hand a squeeze at the sound of Niall’s name. But he didn’t feel jealous. He did in the moment seeing his best friend holding the object of all his affections so comfortingly in his arms. He didn’t know what was wrong and he was irrationally angry that Niall wouldn’t say—even when he didn’t know at the time either. He wanted to be the one comforting her. That was all.

“Hospital?” He questioned his eyes falling back to her arm.

“I’m jumping ahead. It wasn’t for me.”

He frowned. Putting the wallet on the coffee table he would thank Niall later for offering his help while Harry was being an idiot. “Go on,” he said, and he moved to sit beside her. He stretched his legs out on the chaise section and pulled her over his body, so her legs laid over his lap. This way he could see into her eyes and still touch her. He kept one of his hands wrapped up in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I was going to try and figure out how to transfer some of my money on my laptop to a temporary gift card or something… and maybe work on my internship reflection for school but... my laptop wouldn’t turn on,” she mumbled. “And then at the same time it occurred to me I can’t even buy a laptop because I don’t have a debit card.”

“We can go buy you a new one tomorrow,” he promised.

“S’not the point,” she mumbled. “You’re not supposed to interrupt,” she reminded him.

He squeezed her hand. “M’sorry.”

“The woman from the meeting who thinks I’m stupid because I’m an intern,” she whispered the description. “Do you know who I’m talking about?” Harry nodded, curious as to how someone he only saw at meetings had anything to do with this story. Harry almost forgot about her. She was right. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, he hadn’t even had a chance to debrief with her the wonderful job she did in person and to tell her not to worry about the woman from the meeting.

“You’re not stup—”

She continued without letting Harry compliment her. “She told me that you wouldn’t sleep with me.”

Harry blinked rapidly a few times, shook his head trying to clear it. Surely, he missed something to get to this section of the story. “What? I’m sorry...what do you—”

She looked at their hands held together. “She came to my office, unprompted, while I was sad about my laptop, and she just said I was stupid and plain, and you wouldn’t sleep with me because I wasn’t your type. I’m not special or smart and just because I had one good idea and I work well with Niall didn’t mean you would want me... an intern.”

He had no idea the condition to hear her story was not firing an employee was for the benefit of some cruel woman who was just so wrong. He felt speechless because everything in those two sentences was wrong. She wasn’t plain, she was so goddamn beautiful she haunted his every thought. Add in the fact she was so brilliant and kind. Harry couldn’t get enough of her, and the idea of sleeping with her...

Again, he if it meant he could have her there in his life forever, he wouldn’t care about being intimate. But otherwise, he would kill to be so close to her. “Kitten,” he whispered.He was so mad. The rage in his chest was consuming. She would be fired. For one reason or another. Harry didn’t care what he had to do. He wouldn’t let anyone speak that way to another employee. But especially not the angel seated beside him.

“It gets worse,” she mumbled.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. He didn’t know how that could be possible, but he supposed he would find out. “Please continue, then.”

“She knocked my coffee all over my desk,” she said. “And it got all over my skirt, my laptop, the floor, my desktop, and then...I went to clean it and I slipped and that’s how I got this bruise,” she gestured to her arm. Instinctively, Harry reached out and brushed his fingers over it. Not only did he want to fire her, but he also wanted to kill her. The poor girl knew exactly what Harry would do under the right circumstances and that was why she made restrictions on hearing the story as such. She was good, Harry would give her that.

“That’s when you came in,” she mumbled. “I was so sad and heartbroken I couldn’t speak to even tell you what was wrong, and I knew how sad and hurt you were that Niall was comforting me... but Harry, I would never do that to you, ever. Especially with your best friend. Regardless of this... relationship we have... I would never... it’s a—”

“I had no right to be that mad,” Harry mumbled quietly. He had long since forgiven her. She didn’t even need forgiveness because she didn’t do anything wrong.

“And then you cancelled movie night,” she whispered brokenly. Somehow this sounded like it hurt her worse than the bruise or that stupid woman’s comments. Harry’s frown deepened and he rubbed his hand on the back of his head awkwardly.

“I was so sad,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It gets worse,” she repeated. He was hoping she was done. The idea it could get worse...

Harry wanted to take her heart out so he could sew all the holes that she was opening and then give it back to her. And Harry couldn’t even sew but whatever he did had to be better than whatever wounds laid in her heart. “I was a total zombie today at work. Niall was avoiding me per you, I think. He told me to go home after lunch so I could... I don’t know I think he just wanted me away from him.” Harry frowned. That was what Niall wanted. It was all Harry’s doing because he yelled at Niall and accused him of things he shouldn’t have as his best friend. “So I was walking home—”

“Walking?! It was freezing out, kitten.”

“Can you... this is the worst part...” He was silent. But in his head, he was arranging for a car to follow her for the rest of her life and would be training a driver to somehow coerce her into the car if she refused in sub-arctic temperatures. “My mom called,” she said. Harry’s heart stopped. “I went to the hospital.” His eyebrows quirked up and he pressed his lips together. After another brief moment of utter silence, “my dad died,” she whispered.

“Kitten,” he cooed. “Baby, m’so sorry.”

This had to be one of the worst days in recorded human history. No wonder Louis’ message was so long. He was probably freaking out. “I went to the hospital...my mom...she won’t forgive me and...” she took a deep breath. “I had nowhere else to go and I just wanted you and I don’t even know if that’s fair after all I’ve put you through over the last day. So, I came here. I’m sorry for wanting you, I don’t want to—”

“Kitten,” he reached for her face and pressed his thumb over her lips so she would stop speaking and stop breaking his heart. She was here. That meant the story was over. Thank God. “I want you here. Always,” he promised. “I want you.” The relief on her face was somehow one of the most heartbreaking expressions she wore throughout the duration of her story. Harry wanted to cry at the thought. He pulled her toward him, face pressed to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. One hand snaked up her back to hold the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he kissed the space of her forehead just by her hairline before closing his eyes completely content having her there.

There were so many things that needed to be addressed. She needed to call Louis. Harry wanted to call Niall...he wanted to call that terrible woman and fire her over the phone but that would have to wait until Monday. Harry would see to it that something about the funeral be figured out. Maybe he would send one of his lawyers to deal with her mum. Her bank account, her laptop, even the driver he was seriously going to have follow her... all of it needed to be taken care of for Harry to feel like he was helping her and making her horrible thirty-some odd hours end.

But for the next five minutes he was going to hold her like it was his one and only job. “M’gonna make it all better, kitten,” he murmured brushing his lips over her forehead again. “Promise.”

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saccharinesunsetretired · 11 months

Text

Forever & Always | cowboy!Wilbur x Reader

Wrote this one over the course of the past week. Feels so good to write again :) Sorry for being so incredibly absent the past few months. Blame my university.

Summary: Wilbur finally makes it to the state championship in barrel racing, although he seems off afterward. Thankfully, you always know how to cheer him up.

Warnings/Tags: Smut, a tiny bit of angst and hurt/comfort (barely), oral sex (reader receiving), good ol' riding a cowboy, mostly fluffy, soft sex, reader is afab but gender neutral

Word Count: 4.8k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS

Inside of a massive, indoor, horse-riding arena, you sat on the stands. It was a crowded event, the audience having come from a variety of places throughout the entire state. The crowds cheered and the announcer’s voice blared over the speakers. “And next up, our first-time, state championship competitor…”

You were hardly paying attention. Instead, your eyes searched for Wilbur, who you knew was just behind the gate to the arena, sitting atop his prized horse. The crowd was cheering, the place full of people. It was the yearly barrel racing championship. Your boyfriend had been preparing for this for years, trying again and again to make it to the state finals, but never quite doing it.

This was finally his year—-you were sure of it. You’d seen him race barrel patterns a million times now, watched him and his prized mare wind effortlessly between the obstacles as if they were one being. There was a sort of majesty to the movements, a dance that seemed effortless whenever he did it. Sure, he’d taught you how to ride, but you couldn’t ride like he could. He’d been working at this his entire life.

It’s rather stereotypical, he’d said once. The ranch boy who grows up wanting to be a barrel racing champion. And then he’d paused, biting his lip as he gazed nervously at his horse. I just hope I get to be one of the ones who actually does it.

There had never been a doubt in your mind that he could. As the gates to the arena opened, Wilbur and his horse came dashing into it. At a speed so quick that your eyes could hardly follow the movements, they rounded the first barrel, then the second. You watched as the horse dashed all the way across the area, kicking up dust in its wake. The crowd cheered. You joined them. Despite your anxiety for him (you knew how devastated he would be if he lost), you smiled and cheered louder than all the rest.

There was no way that he could hear you; you knew that. And yet, you tried. At least he knew that you were there. You watched as he continued, the announcer carrying on his commentary on the performance.

And then, as soon as it started, it was over. Wilbur rode his horse out of the arena just as fast as he had entered it. The announcer called it “a perfect run.” The total time for the run was only eleven seconds, the fastest run so far.

The rest of the races crawled by. It seemed like an eon before all the races were over. You sat in the stands the entire time, watching the other racers, zoning out. Only one other racer had managed Wilbur’s eleven-second time, but she got a penalty for knocking over a barrel, meaning Wilbur still had more points.

Your heart pounded. Wilbur had won, right? Or had you zoned out and missed one? You couldn’t remember. As the announcer walked to the center of the arena, microphone in hand, you waited, hardly able to breathe. So many hours put into this sport…you couldn’t bear to see Wilbur lose.

“And the winner of the state barrel racing championship is…” The announcer checked his notebook before looking back up at the crowd. “Wilbur Soot!”

You cheered so loud that you nearly gave yourself hearing damage. A couple nearby audience members gave you startled looks, but you hardly noticed. All you could think about was the fact that he’d finally done it. You stood up, clapping and cheering for him, watching as he walked into the arena and claimed his ribbon.

You’d watched him succeed at the local level, then the regional level, and now the state level. Next, he could go on to national championships if he wanted (and you knew he would). You couldn’t have wiped the smile off your face even if you tried. You saw the smile on Wilbur’s face even from your spot in the audience, the joy that radiated off every inch of him. He thanked the announcer before walking back out of sight.

After the audience filed out of the arena, you got a text from Wilbur.

Out by the truck. Meet me there

You smiled and tucked your phone back in your pocket before practically running out to the parking lot behind the arena. The second you caught sight of him, you rushed into his arms. He laughed as he picked you up off the ground.

You giggled and wrapped your legs around him to help him hold you. “I told you you’d do it,” you said breathlessly.

“I fucking did it,” he replied. His tone was almost surprised, as if it was a shock to him. And perhaps it was, but it certainly wasn’t a shock to you. “I still can’t process it.”

You laughed softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he set you down. “I’m really happy for you, Wil.”

Wilbur was absolutely beaming. In the weeks leading up to the championship, he’d hardly smiled at all. “Thank you, darlin’,” he said. He gave you a quick kiss. “Now give me a second. I gotta make sure the horse trailer is still hooked to the truck.”

You rolled your eyes. “You really need a better trailer…” Your eyes fell on the old truck, Wilbur’s first ever car that he still used. The paint was blue and peeling off its frame. Wilbur had called it a “proper farm truck,” although you saw it primarily as a safety hazard.

“I know, I know,” Wilbur said as he checked the hitch. “It all looks good, though.”

You wandered behind the truck to the horse trailer, where Wilbur’s horse could be seen trying to poke her head out between the window bars. You laughed and gave her nose a quick pet. “Looks like Annie isn’t happy being locked up,” you said.

Wilbur sighed. “She never is.” He opened up the passenger side door of the truck and motioned for you to get in. “She’ll be fine. She’s gotta be worn out, anyway.”

You shook your head, smiling as you got in the truck. “Nah. That horse has always got energy.”

“Maybe.” Wilbur shut the door and continued talking only when he got into the driver’s seat. “But I have been working her hard.” He frowned. “Poor girl hasn’t had many breaks.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “She’ll get a nice break after this.”

Wilbur started up the truck. “Yeah,” he said quietly. The truck’s engine roared to life, making a few concerning mechanical sounds as it did so.

Something about Wilbur seemed…off. He looked almost deflated. You weren’t sure if it was simply the adrenaline wearing off or if there was something more to it. As he drove the truck out of the parking lot and started down the road, you couldn’t help but be worried at the sight of his expressionless and unreadable face. You could almost always read him, but you were at a loss.

“You alright?” you asked.

“Of course,” he replied. “I mean, I just won the state championship. I’ve been working at that for years.”

“And yet,” you said, “you don’t seem happy.”

“I am,” he said, unconvincingly. “I…it’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know?”

“Is it just not as good now that you have it?”

“It’s great,” Wilbur said. “It’s awesome. Now can we please just…talk about anything else?” He definitely looked tense, his usual, relaxed posture nowhere to be found. He’d also raised his voice the tiniest bit, which he never did with you before. It was a hardly noticeable change, but a change nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you replied quietly. You looked out the window. It was late evening, and the sun was going down. The drive back to the ranch would take about two hours, and it seemed that it was going to be a long one.

Wilbur turned the radio on. Some country song that you didn’t recognize played over the speakers—-an old Johnny Cash tune that you couldn’t place. Wilbur loved Johnny Cash, but he wasn’t singing. He wasn’t even humming.

You thought he would be ecstatic. He looked ecstatic. Holding that ribbon in the center of the arena, he looked beyond happy. When he’d scooped you into his arms in the parking lot, he seemed happier than ever.

What changed? The only thing you could think of was that your presence had somehow ruined things. The thought worried you. You glanced over at Wilbur, but he wasn’t even looking your way. Maybe you hadn’t been supportive enough. Maybe you’d pressed him too hard, given him too much pressure, stressed him out. You wanted to apologize, but you weren’t sure what to apologize for. You’d done everything right…or at least, you hoped so.

Two hours passed in near-silence except for the songs on the radio. You tried to make small talk, but your attempts quickly fell flat. It was a relief when the truck finally hit the familiar dirt road that led to the ranch.

The truck rolled up the road and toward the barn. When it finally came to a stop, Wilbur murmured something about needing to put Annie in her stall.

You rested a hand on his shoulder. “I can take care of Annie if you want,” you said softly. “Just go inside and get some rest, maybe.”

He nodded and gave you a small, weak smile. “Thanks, darlin’.” He paused, glancing away before his soft eyes met yours again. “I’m sorry for…for being…”

“It’s okay,” you said, “but can we talk about it when I get inside?”

“Of course.” He gave you a quick kiss before climbing out of the truck. You sighed to yourself and got out as well.

For a moment, you watched as Wilbur walked up to the house. You then turned to open the door of the horse trailer. Once you did, Annie looked at you curiously. “Hey, girl,” you said softly. “Time to get you home.” You approached her and slipped her halter over her head so that you could lead her into the stall. She nearly ran you over as you led her out of the trailer, so happy to not be cooped up anymore.

She was a good horse. Caramel-colored, built sturdy, with a small, white spot on her nose. Wilbur had rescued her from a horse sale. She was so scrawny back then, a poor, mistreated thing. I’m gonna make her into a prize-winning barrel horse, he’d said. Everyone thought he was crazy trying to turn such a wild mare into a champion, but he managed to do it. Annie had become the sweetest horse around, with endless amounts of energy. The perfect horse for Wilbur.

You opened the gate to her stall and tucked her inside. You removed her halter, checked her water and her hay, gave her a few pats, and left the barn. Wilbur had a few horses, Annie and two others that he was training up to sell for a profit. After rescuing Annie, he’d decided to do the same for more horses, giving them better lives and then selling them to good homes. He’d promised that after those two were sold, he would buy you a horse of your own. Something sturdy. Good for trail rides, he told you. He’d been begging you to go trail riding with him, and you were more than excited for it. In the meantime, you just had to figure out what was bothering him.

You walked up to the house, coming in the back door. The ranch house was relatively small, cozy in a rustic sort of way. Wilbur had inherited it from some uncle of his who passed away, and there were still vintage photos and artwork on the walls. The kitchen cabinets were worn and faded, and the furniture had been in terrible shape until Wilbur saved up to replace it. The back door led into the kitchen, and from there, you could walk down the hallway, past the living room and to the bedroom.

When you entered the bedroom, Wilbur was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was still dressed in his rodeo gear. He looked up at you, and this time, his smile was less forced. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey you.” You sat down beside him. “Annie is settled in the barn.”

“Did you double-check the gate latch?” he asked, “Because you know that thing doesn’t close—-”

“I checked it,” you said. “It’s all good.” You gently took his hand. “Now what’s wrong?”

He looked down at the floor, unable to meet your eyes. “...I don’t think I…no, I know I don’t want to go to nationals.”

You couldn’t hide the surprised expression on your face. “I…what? But you’ve been working at this for years.”

“I know,” he said. “I…I get that you’re probably confused. I just…” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired of it. It’s not fun. It all feels like a chore. And these past few months, I feel like all I’ve done is run barrel patterns again and again and again. I’m just so tired of it. It’s not worth it anymore.” He sighed. “And I don’t want to travel around, going to rodeos. I want to just stay here on the ranch with you rather than dragging you everywhere.”

“I never minded it,” you said. “I don’t feel like I’m being dragged.” You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. He leaned into the touch. “But, Wil, if you’re done with racing, I support you. I may not understand fully, but I support it.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Let me put it this way,” he said slowly. “I’ve found something else I want to do.”

That made you perk up a little. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He immediately seemed a little happier, a little more himself. “Do you remember when I bought Annie from the horse sale, and she was all…you know. Not in good shape?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “You were so excited to train her up.”

“And I did,” he said. “And I…loved doing that. Rescuing a horse, giving her a better life, and training her up.” He smiled, more to himself than anything else. “I want to keep doing it. Keep buying horses out of shitty situations, training them up, and selling them to good homes. It makes me some money, but it also saves these horses from potentially being put down and gives them something to do, you know?”

You smiled softly at that. “You did really like training Annie. And she’s a fantastic horse now.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I think it’s a good plan.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you, his expression somewhat worried. “What if…I don’t know. What if I’m not good at it?”

You laughed softly, bringing another smile to his lips. “I’ve seen you train horses, Wil. You were raised training horses. You’re good at it. And I think you’ll be really happy doing that. Plus, I think it’d stress you out a lot less than barrel racing.”

He let out a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s true.” He gave you a kiss on the forehead. “So you’re alright with it? Me shifting gears like that?”

“I’m more than happy with it,” you said. “I’m proud of you, Wil. You’ve worked hard, you’ve done good. You deserve to choose whatever path forward you want.”

He smiled at that. “Thank you, hun. Nobody supports me quite like you do.” He paused, and then a small smirk came to his face. “You know…I did just win the state championship today…”

“Oh? Does my cowboy want a reward?” you asked teasingly. You figured earlier that he’d eventually say something of the sort. You teasingly flicked the brim of his hat, nearly knocking it off his head.

“I think he deserves one, wouldn’t you say?” Wilbur grinned, and just like that, he was back to the Wilbur that you knew, the Wilbur you fell in love with. Cocky, teasing, sarcastic, but simultaneously as soft as they came.

“Maybe he’ll get a reward,” you said. You gently took off his hat, holding it in your hand as you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling your faces close together. “If he asks nicely.”

Wilbur shrugged. “Seems to be a fair tradeoff.” He gave you a quick kiss. “So, darlin’, would you please give a reward to this poor, lonesome cowboy?”

You laughed. “I would hardly call you poor or lonesome.”

“I would be without you,” he said.

“Well, thankfully this ‘poor, lonesome cowboy’ asked very nicely,” you said. You gently took Wilbur’s hat off his head and set it on the bedside table. “So yeah, I think I’ve got a reward or two to spare.”

“Then he’s very lucky,” Wilbur said. He pressed his lips to yours, and you immediately reciprocated. His hand rested on your lower back before pulling you onto his lap. You wrapped your other arm around his neck, one of your hands playing with his messy curls. His hands both went to your waist, pulling you close against him. It was as if no amount of closeness would be enough, like he needed your bodies to melt into one in order for him to come anywhere near satisfaction.

His tongue met yours, and you let out a soft hum as he continued to kiss you. His hands on your waist were gentle: firm, but soft. You could easily get away if you wanted to (but of course, that was the last thing on your mind). You cupped his cheeks, gentle fingers resting upon his skin. His lips were soft, gently touching yours. Even with tongue, the kiss was lazy and soft, more a tender meeting than a passionate one.

He sighed between kisses, pulling away just slightly to get some air. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Just wanted you to know.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I know. And I love you too.” Your lips met again, this time somewhat more desperate. You heard Wilbur hum softly against your lips as you kissed, a sound almost like a moan. He was often vocal in softer moments like this one, which you loved every time.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, and you held back a gasp. He pulled away once again. “Can I take this off?” he asked, brown eyes looking at you in the warm lighting of the bedroom.

“Please.” Your hands reached for the hem of your shirt as soon as he did, and you helped him pull it over your head. His lips immediately went to your neck, pressing soft kisses along the length of it. His lips went to your shoulder, your collarbone, anywhere he could easily reach. Your hands went back to his hair, running through his curls as you let out soft sighs and moans. You couldn’t help but start to rock your hips against him, grinding against his lap, to which he responded with a quiet laugh.

“Not very patient, are you?” he asked teasingly.

“Not tonight, no.” You reached for the bandana tied around his neck and untied it before tossing it aside. “That's okay with you?”

“I’m definitely not complaining,” he said. His fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, an elaborate western shirt with fringe and embroidery. He had complained about having to wear flashy rodeo gear. You, on the other hand, were a big fan of it.

It didn’t take long for you both to get his shirt off, then his undershirt. His belt went next, although you had some trouble getting it off considering how shaky your fingers had become. There was eagerness and excitement flooding through you, knowing what was to come. You unbuttoned his jeans as he unbuttoned yours, and without much more thought given to it, you stripped yourself of them.

He gazed at you, eyes wandering your body. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. His voice was quiet, almost reverent. Many people in these parts were religious. Wilbur had never been that way. Why would I worship a god, he’d said, if I could worship you instead?

It seemed that the same thought was running through his head. His hands gently ran down your sides as he gazed lovingly at you. “Let me get you ready,” he murmured as he kissed your jaw. You nodded wordlessly, at a loss for what to say. He didn’t seem to mind, easing you onto your back and pulling down your underwear by the waistband until it was discarded on the floor along with the rest of your clothing.

He kissed his way down your body, taking extra time with your chest and the insides of your thighs. You squirmed a little, frustrated by the tease, but he held you down gently with his hands on your hips. It only took him another few seconds to bring his tongue to your folds, licking and kissing the sensitive skin.

You moaned, lips sealed shut to try and prevent the sound from escaping. After a few more attempts to quiet yourself, you gave up and let yourself go. Wilbur became even more enthusiastic after that. His hand found yours, and he held it gently in his hand as he continued with his mouth. He alternated between licking your folds and teasing your entrance with his tongue to lightly circling your clit. Your free hand gripped the sheets. Wilbur moaned against you, and the vibration sent tingles up your spine.

“Feels so good, Wil,” you said, panting. “Keep going.” Your hand got a small squeeze in response, a signal that he definitely wasn’t stopping anytime soon. He spent some more time kissing and licking near your entrance before finally focusing in on your clit.

He licked it a few times, light and teasing, before properly sucking on the skin. You cried out, hips twitching against his face. You thought you heard him chuckle, felt the vibration of it against your skin, but you weren’t sure. Your mind was too foggy, too lost in pleasure to fully process anything he said.

His movements got more eager, more rough. Before long, you were gasping, back slightly arched, gripping his hand tight in one hand and the sheets in the other. You murmured an incoherent string of pleas before finally climaxing, letting out a few moans and small cries as Wilbur slowed his movements to a stop.

He kissed the insides of your thighs and let go of your hand. He got out from between your legs, opting instead to lay beside you and pepper your face and neck in kisses as you came back to reality.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asked. His voice was hardly above a whisper and honey-sweet.

You smiled, cupping his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. “Perfect,” you said. “Now grab a condom before I get impatient again.”

He laughed and kissed the tip of your nose before complying, rolling to the other side of the bed, opening a bedside drawer, and grabbing one. He tugged his boxers off, revealing how hard he was. You watched with thinly veiled eagerness as he rolled the condom on.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to stare?” he teased.

You shrugged. “My mother also told me not to date cowboys, so I’m not on a great track record when it comes to following her orders.”

Wilbur smiled. “Clearly I was right earlier when I said I was lucky.”

“That makes two of us.” You kissed him again. “Alright, lean against the headboard a little.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You takin’ charge tonight, sweetheart?”

“If it’s alright with you,” you said. “You’ve been working hard. The least I can do is help out a bit.” You winked, and he chuckled in response.

“Again, I’m not complaining.” He leaned against the headboard as you got on top of him, straddling him. You watched his face as you sunk down onto him—-the way his breath hitched, his mouth fell slightly open, and his eyes closed. “Jesus…”

You giggled, leaned down to give him a kiss, and started to move. At first, your hips lazily moved back and forth against him. His hands rested on your hips, gently guiding your motions. You reveled in the way he looked at you. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes unfocused. You couldn’t resist leaning forward briefly to give him a quick kiss before starting to move again.

You moved in small circles on top of him. One of Wilbur’s hands moved up to your waist, and he lazily smiled up at you. His smile quickly turned to an open-mouthed moan as you started to move up and down, slow and almost teasing.

His hand slid back down to your hips before sliding it between your legs and rubbing your clit. It took everything in you to keep moving despite the stimulation. You made a few clumsier movements as you tried to keep yourself upright. Wilbur chuckled at your predicament. “Too much, sweet thing?”

You shook your head rapidly. Truth be told, you felt dizzy. The combination of Wilbur’s cock filling you repeatedly as you moved up and down and his fingers on your clit had you seeing stars. You looked down at him through half-lidded eyes and kept moving despite the fact that the muscles in your legs were starting to complain.

Your attempts to keep going faltered more as time went on and your muscles grew more and more tired. Wilbur kept rubbing your clit, circling it with his fingers. You were getting closer, but you could tell that Wilbur was having trouble getting there. You attempted to keep going, and gasped loudly when Wilbur thrust up into you.

“Let me help, darlin’,” he said between soft pants. He started thrusting up against your movements, keeping you going as he got you off.

That was all it took for you to finish. You kept moving clumsily as Wilbur’s fingers continued to work magic on your clit, helping to prolong your orgasm. You were vaguely aware of how loud you were moaning, but it was the last thing on your mind. All you could think about was the shivers going up your spine, the overwhelming feeling in your core, his fingers, his cock…

You realized quickly that you had practically slowed to a stop. Before you could start moving again, you felt his hand wrap around your back. Your world tilted as he flipped your positions effortlessly. It always surprised you how strong he was: a side effect of growing up on a ranch and doing hard labor, you supposed.

You let out a breathless giggle, and so did he. He immediately started moving again, trying to finish himself off. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and your legs wrapped around his back. His breathing was heavy, and it only took him a few thrusts before he finished too. His hips stuttered, and you felt him twitch inside you. He groaned softly, burying his face in your neck. You rested your hand on the back of his head, gently combing through his hair as he settled against you, gasping softly.

For a few moments, you laid there, Wilbur resting against you. You played with his hair, and he kissed your neck softly. You could hear the quiet sounds of the crickets chirping outside and the whisper of Wilbur’s breathing. “I love you,” you murmured.

He kissed your jaw again. “I love you too.” He sighed softly before forcing himself to pull out. You let go of him as he moved away to pull off the condom and toss it in the bedside trash can. Before you could miss his absence, he was back by your side, pulling you gently against him.

You laid your head on his chest, and he rested an arm across your shoulders. You felt his lips kiss the top of your head. “Alright, lovely?” he asked.

“More than alright.” You snuggled closer and closed your eyes. “You?”

“I mean…it’s been a pretty damn good day for me,” he said. “And, um…” He paused, and you opened your eyes to look up at his face. “Thank you for everything. Being supportive all this time. It means the world to me.”

“Of course,” you replied. He leaned down and kissed you, and when you parted, he was smiling softly at you.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I’m yours, you know that?”

“I know.” You laid your head back down. “And I’m yours.”

“Forever?”

You smiled and closed your eyes as he kissed your forehead again. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I could do forever.”

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader smut #saccharine writes

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