#we had a little red car when i was little and when he found out ppl were calling him [Name] With The Little Red Car he was agog

[arctic-hands]

I kinda want to put my eye color to a poll bc no one can agree with whether they're green, brown, or hazel as a compromise (the woman at th DMV for my first state ID agreed with me that they were green so that's what they legally are, my father who is confirmed red-green colorblind to this day insists our eyes are brown regardless, a kind woman in the homeless shelter said they were definitely green, and my bestie who has trouble making out some green shades is willing to capitulate that they've got quite a bit of green to them but are still hazel)

But the way facial recognition technology is going, I'm hesitant to put something that can help circumvent wearing masks

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"You’re arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—how they breed you when you make them jealous

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎, 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈, 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: smut, degradation, praise, breeding, baby trapping, mean doms, choking, exhibitionism, hair pulling, rough sex, spit, daddy kink, hair pulling, somnophilia

✮ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

What the fuck did you think you were doing? Gojo seethed to himself. Who the fuck were you with and why were his hands on you. What would seem to be a normal friendly hug had blue eyes glaring at you through the cafe’s window.

Gojo plastered on a fake smile, the bell ringing as he walked through the door. You looked up with a wide smile, “baby.” Gojo’s eye twitched as the man behind you smiled too, “Hey man, Y/n’s told me so much about you.”

You frowned as your boyfriend took the man’s hand in a bruising grip, giving it an unnecessarily hard shake. “And you are?” He questioned, forcing himself to keep up the nice guy act.

“Oh, i’m Haru, an old friend of y/n’s” Gojo scoffed internally, his arm making its way around your waist. “Well, Haru, we’ve got to go now,”

Waving bye to your friend, you bit your lip as you looked up at the white haired man, “are you mad?” Gojo scoffed, “Nope.. not at all.”

A lie.

You found yourself sprawled out on the back seat of Gojo’s car in the parking lot for anyone to see. Your legs were spread up in the air as Gojo took his anger out on your cunt.

Your eyes were wet with tears as your boyfriend hammered into you. “How many times do i have to fucking tell you, hmm baby?” He scowled. “How do I get it in your dumb little brain that you’re mine.”

Gojo’s bright eyes darkened as he sped up his pace, thick cock ramming into your g spot with every thrust. Your boobs bounced as your body rocked with his hips, the entire vehicle being moved from side to side.

“Gonna have to fuck a baby into you to drill it in your head.” He grunted, not slowing the movement of his hips until you were shaking for him. Your eyes blurry with tears as small ‘m sorry’s left your mouth

“Good. You should be. Show me you’re really sorry and take it yeah? Take it nice and deep.” he groaned, hips rolling roughly into yours.

Small babbles and hiccups echoed throughout the small car, your hand gripping tightly onto the side of the seat as your orgasm washed over you. “F-fuck,” you moaned, pussy tightening around him as you creamed.

Gojo smirked, bottoming out inside you as his eyes met yours, slender fingers pushing themselves past your lips and resting at the back of your tongue. “Gonna fill you up kay baby? Gonna let everyone know that you’re my little slut only.” he growled.

You shook your head in protest, your little waits muffled by his fingers. Gojo cursed, his eyes never leaving yours as he bred you deep. “There we go, gonna look so pretty carrying my baby.”

Your eyes widened when you heard a throat clear awkwardly. Scurrying to cover up but being held down by your boyfriend instead. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you looked up to find Haru.

“U-uhm.. you f-forgot your sweater y/n.” His cheeks were beat red and his dick was strained against his pants. Never in a million years would he expect to see you like this.

Gojo grinned as he looked at the male, slowly pulling out of you to give your friend a sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy. Haru’s breath hitched and Gojo’s head tilted. “Like what you see? Too bad you’ll never have it cause it’s mine.”

✮ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Silently watches as you innocently entertain two guys who were clearly flirting with you. How stupid could you possibly be. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, Nanami sighed. Did he always have to remind you that you belonged to him? You should have known that by now.

And you most certainly should have known that no man ever has innocent intentions. Getting up, Nanami walked up to you with a face void of any emotion. Tapping you twice on your back to indicate that it was time to go. You even had the audacity to tell the two men bye in your sickly sweet voice.

The ride home was silent.

You kept trying to strike up conversation but pouted when all you got in return were uninterested hums and nods. “Kentooo,” you whined. “Why won’t you talk to me?” you frowned. Your boyfriend simply glanced at you and scoffed. Watching as you rest your head against the car door and let your eyes close shut.

You woke up with a small whimper, soft moans falling past your lips. You felt so good, your pussy clenching around.. a cock?

Your eyes shot open to find Nanami in between your held up legs. His eyes dark as he hammered into you. His thick, veiny cock abusing your g spot as it fucked into your abdomen.

A loud mewl left your mouth as Nanami’s hand made its way around your neck. You felt so full, his cock stretching you out and forcing you to take him deep. Entire ten inches reaching deep within your belly. “K-kento.. so deep.” you whined.

Nanami grunted, tightening his grip on your neck to bully his entire cock into you. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, let you know who you who you fucking belong to.” He groaned, looking deep into your eyes with a glare.

You whimpered loudly, eyes blurry with tears as he fucked you dumb. “Nngh, ‘m cumming Kento, ‘m cumming so hard,” you sobbed, toes curling as you babbled out his name.

Nanami scowled as the thought of you with another man crossed his mind, his grip becoming a bruising one as he snapped his hips into yours at an unforgiving pace. “Fucking take it baby. This is exactly what you needed. Get it through your dumb head that you have an owner.” he spat, watching as you shook uncontrollably underneath him.

Screaming loudly as your body was rocked with his thrusts. Nanami groaned at the way you began to squirt, threatening to push his cock out at the mere pressure.

Stilling inside you, Nanami let his hot ropes of cum coat your insides. His hand around your neck finally loosening as he kept his cock plugged into your sopping cunt. You were his. Now you would have the stomach to show it.

✮ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Watches with a smile as you dance. Taking note of all the men that were eyeing you like food. Eyeing you like you weren’t already owned. He was sat on the club’s couch with his legs crossed, arms spread out along the chair’s backrest and head tilted with a smirk. His eyes roamed his waist, his hips, and his ass. Every part of you was his.

And you knew that, you were just so oblivious to all the hungry stares directed at you. Toji stalks tall towards you. Towering over your figure and nodding towards the exit. Understanding that it was time to leave, you made your way outside to wait for your boyfriend in his vehicle.

Five minutes passed and you frowned in worry. Where was he? Your thoughts were cut off by the driver’s car door slamming shut. Toji using a rag to wipe blood off his bruised knuckles.

“Toji-” before you could open your mouth to speak, you received a warning glance from your boyfriend to keep your mouth shut. You swallowed hard, wondering what the hell your boyfriend had gotten into. Especially since he was smiling like a maniac as he drove.

At home, you found yourself on your hands and knees, loud moans and mewls spilling past your plump, drool filled lips.

Toji’s thick cock pounded into you hard. His hips snapping roughly into yours. Rough hands held your hips in a bruising grip, his cock forcing its way deep into your tight hole and ramming into your g spot with each movement.

You let out a loud cry, the flesh of your ass shaking with each contact. “F-fuck— d-daddy, nngh, feels so good,” you whined, a yelp leaving your mouth as you were yanked up by your hair. Your back flat against his chest allowing him to fuck you even deeper.

Toji had one hand tangled in your hair, the other held your throat. Your whimpers and moans echoing in the small room as your pussy squelched lewdly. Toji’s smirk never faltered, kissing up your neck and to your ear.

You clenched hard when he groaned softly, deep voice rasping in your ear “Fuck you’re taking daddy so good, gonna fill you up with another Fushiguro hmm? Gonna look so hot all round and swollen with my son. Your tits leaking with milk for daddy to take care of you. Does my little slut want that?”

You whimpered loudly at his words, clenching down on his cock as heat built up in your stomach. “Mhm, wanna feel you deep. Wan’ carry your baby so bad.” you mewled. Eyes rolling back as Toji rolled his hips up into yours.

Toji brought his teeth down on your skin hard, nearly drawing blood as you moaned. Pulling your head back even further, Toji leaned down to press his lips against yours, sloppily swallowing your moans before pulling away with a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Your mouth hung open in short pants, your boyfriend letting a thick glob of his spit fall onto your tongue. “Fuck, gonna show all these assholes that you’re mine yeah? They probably won’t even live to see it.” You let out a silent scream, feeling Toji’s cock absolutely destroying your gummy walls.

“O-oh fuck, d-daddy, ahh,” you moaned, body trembling as you reached your orgasm. “Gonna cum, fuck, gon’ cum on your cock.” Little incoherent chants of his name falling past your lips.

“Cum f’me baby, make a fucking mess.” He groaned, tightening his hold on your neck as your slick dripped down his cock with one final cry. “There we go,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppy as he buried himself deep inside you, ropes after ropes of sticky cum painting your guts white.

Your knees felt weak as you came down from your high. Eyes fluttering closed as you steadied your breathing.

“Now, who do you belong to, baby?”

“You.. i belong to you,”

“Good girl. Might even keep my cock in you so that you don’t spill any of daddy’s cum.” He chuckled, knowing full well that he was being serious.

[pucksandpower]

To Hell With Duty

Lewis Hamilton x soulmate!Reader

Summary: you’ve always known that being Princess of the UK means that a soulmate is a luxury you can’t afford … but then you meet your soulmate and decide that some things are worth turning your back on duty for

Warnings: abusive family dynamics

Note: I promised to write something in honor of Lewis’ win and this was born (now I’m tempted to make a soulmate AU series)

The sun blazes overhead as you step out of the sleek black car, your designer heels clicking against the pavement. The roar of engines and the excited chatter of the crowd at Silverstone envelop you, but you can barely hear them over the pounding of your own heart.

“Your Royal Highness, this way please,” a smartly dressed aide gestures towards the paddock area.

You nod, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. As you walk, you absently rub your wrist, feeling the slight raised bumps of your soulmate mark beneath the carefully applied concealer.

“I wish you didn’t have to hide it,” your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Sophie, whispers beside you.

“You know I don’t have a choice,” you murmur back, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

The memory of your brother’s ordeal flashes through your mind, as vivid and painful as the day it happened ...

“No, please! You can’t do this!” Edward’s anguished cries echoed through the palace halls.

You huddled in your room, hands pressed over your ears, trying to block out the sound. But nothing could drown out your brother’s screams as the royal physician burned away his soulmate tattoo.

Later, when you snuck into his room, you found him curled up on his bed, cradling his bandaged wrist.

“Eddie?” You whispered, your voice small and frightened.

He looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy. “Y/N ... I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

You climbed onto the bed beside him. “Why did they do it? Why can’t you be with your soulmate?”

Edward sighed, pulling you close. “Because we’re royals, little sister. Our marriages are about duty, not love. Soulmates ... they’re a luxury we can’t afford.”

“But that’s not fair!” You protested.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, his voice hollow. “But it’s the price we pay for our position. Promise me something, Y/N. If you ever find your soulmate ... run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

The memory fades as Sophie gently squeezes your arm, bringing you back to the present.

“Are you okay?” She asks, concern etched on her face.

You take a deep breath, straightening your shoulders. “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the carefree laughter and excitement around you. Everywhere you look, people are proudly displaying their soulmate tattoos, some comparing them with friends, others stealing glances at strangers, wondering if today might be the day they meet their perfect match.

“Your Royal Highness,” a race official greets you with a bow. “We’re honored to have you here today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the VIP area.”

You nod, allowing yourself to be led through the crowded paddock. The official drones on about the day’s schedule, but your mind wanders.

“What do you think your soulmate is like?” Sophie had asked you once, years ago, when you were both giggling teenagers.

“I don’t know,” you had replied, tracing the words on your wrist. “But I hope they’re kind. And funny. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just my title.”

“You’ll find them one day,” Sophie had said confidently. “And when you do, it’ll be magical.”

Now, surrounded by the bustle and excitement of race day, that conversation feels like a lifetime ago. You’ve long since resigned yourself to the fact that you’ll never meet your soulmate. Even if you did, you could never act on it. The risk is too great.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the figure rounding the corner until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, stumbling backward. Strong hands grip your arms, steadying you before you can fall.

You look up, an apology on your lips, and find yourself staring into the most captivating brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Time seems to stand still as you gaze at each other, the world fading away around you.

And then he speaks, his voice low and warm.

“Whoa there, careful Princess. I’ve got you.”

***

Your heart stops as Lewis’ words sink in. They’re an exact match to the tattoo hidden beneath layers of concealer on your wrist. For a moment, you’re frozen, lost in his warm brown eyes, your mind reeling with the implications of what just happened.

Then reality comes crashing down. You can’t do this. You can’t put him in danger. You can’t risk the pain your brother went through.

“I ... I have to go,” you stammer, pulling away from his gentle grip.

Lewis’ brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

But you’re already backing away, panic rising in your chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t ... this isn’t ... I have to leave.”

You turn and run, pushing past startled onlookers, your heart pounding in your ears. Behind you, you hear Lewis call out.

“Princess, wait! Your words ... they’re on my wrist!”

You falter for a moment, his words piercing through your panic. But no, it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. You keep running.

“Y/N, please!” Lewis’ voice is closer now. He’s chasing after you. “I know you felt it too. We need to talk about this!”

You duck around a corner, trying to lose him in the maze of the paddock. But Lewis is faster, more familiar with the layout. He catches up to you in a quiet area behind one of the garages.

“Princess,” he says, slightly out of breath. “Please, just hear me out.”

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill. “You don’t understand. We can’t do this. My family ... they’ll never allow it. They’ll hurt you, or worse.”

Lewis takes a cautious step closer. “What do you mean? Why would your family hurt me?”

“Because you’re my soulmate!” The words burst out before you can stop them. “And royals aren’t allowed to be with their soulmates. It’s all about duty and arranged marriages. They ... they burned off my brother’s mark when he found his soulmate.”

Lewis’ eyes widen in horror. “That’s barbaric. They can’t do that to you.”

You laugh bitterly. “They’re the royal family. They can do whatever they want.”

“No,” Lewis says firmly. “They can’t. Because I won’t let them.”

You look at him, confused. “What?”

Lewis takes your hand gently, his touch sending sparks through your body. “Y/N, I’m not just British. I’m also a Brazilian citizen. And in Brazil, there are laws protecting soulmates. If we’re truly matched, which I believe we are, you automatically gain Brazilian citizenship too. Your family can’t touch you there.”

Hope flares in your chest, but you quickly squash it down. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll find a way. They always do.”

“Not this time,” Lewis insists. “Look, I have a race to drive soon, but after that, we can fly to Brazil immediately. I’ll keep you safe until then.”

You shake your head. “It’s too dangerous. If they find out ...”

“They won’t,” Lewis promises. “My driver’s room is private and secure. You can hide there until after the race. No one will think to look for you there.”

You hesitate, torn between hope and fear. “I don’t know ...”

Lewis squeezes your hand gently. “I know we just met, but I’ve been waiting my whole life to find you. Please, give us a chance. Let me protect you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. Slowly, you nod. “Okay. But we have to be careful.”

Relief washes over Lewis’ face. “We will be. Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

He leads you quickly through the paddock, taking care to avoid busy areas. You keep your head down, heart racing every time you pass someone. Finally, you reach a door marked with Lewis’ name.

“Here we are,” he says, ushering you inside. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll knock three times, pause, then twice more. Okay?”

You nod, taking in the small but comfortable room. “Okay. But Lewis, what about your race? You can’t miss it because of me.”

He smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll race, and then we’ll leave right after. It’ll be fine.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if they find me?” The fear creeps back into your voice.

Lewis takes your hands in his, his touch grounding you. “Hey, look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise. We’re soulmates, remember? That means we’re in this together now.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But you’re also incredibly brave. You’ve lived with this fear your whole life, and you’re still standing. We can do this.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “We’ve known each other for all of ten minutes and you’re already saying ‘we’?”

Lewis grins. “Well, that’s what happens when you meet your soulmate, I guess. Everything changes in an instant.”

You laugh softly, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Listen,” Lewis says, his tone turning serious. “I know this is all happening very fast, and I don’t expect you to fall in love with me right away or anything. We’ll take things as slow as you want once we’re safe. But right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

You look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and determination. Slowly, you nod. “Yes, I think I can.”

“Good,” Lewis smiles. “Now, I have to go get ready for the race. Remember, three knocks, pause, then two more. Don’t open for anyone else.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “Be careful out there, okay?”

Lewis’ smile widens. “Always am, Princess. I’ll see you soon.”

As he leaves, you lock the door behind him, your heart still racing. You sink onto the small couch, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

You’ve found your soulmate. After years of hiding your tattoo, of living in fear of it being burned away like your brother’s, you’ve actually met the person whose words are etched on your skin.

And not just any person. Lewis Hamilton. World-famous driver, activist, and fashion icon. You’ve seen him on TV, of course, admired his skill on the track and his passion for social justice. But you never imagined ...

You rub your wrist absently, feeling the slight raised bumps of your mark beneath the concealer. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of.

But doubt creeps in. What if Lewis is wrong? What if Brazilian citizenship isn’t enough to protect you from your family’s influence? What if they find you before you can leave?

You pace the small room, alternating between hope and fear. The sound of engines revving in the distance tells you the race is about to start. You find yourself holding your breath every time you hear footsteps pass by the door, terrified it might be palace security coming to drag you away.

Time crawls by agonizingly slowly. You try to distract yourself by watching the race on the small TV in the corner, but every time the camera focuses on Lewis’ car, your heart leaps into your throat. You silently urge him to be careful, to finish the race quickly so you can escape.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hear it. Three knocks, a pause, then two more. You rush to the door, your hand hesitating for just a moment before you unlock it.

Lewis slips inside quickly, closing and locking the door behind him. He’s still in his race suit, his hair damp with sweat.

“Are you okay?” You ask immediately. “How was the race?”

Lewis grins. “I’m fine, and I won. But that’s not important right now. We need to go.”

He grabs a bag from a locker and starts shoving clothes into it. “I’ve arranged for a private jet to take us to São Paulo. We need to leave now, before anyone realizes you’re missing.”

You nod, your heart racing again. “Okay. What do we do?”

“I’ve got some clothing here that might fit you,” Lewis says, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants. “Put these on over your clothes. We’ll need to be discreet getting to the airport.”

As you change, Lewis continues talking. “Once we’re in Brazil, we’ll be safe. There are strict laws protecting soulmates there. Your family won’t be able to touch you.”

“But what about your career?” You ask, suddenly realizing what he’s giving up. “You can’t just leave everything behind for me.”

Lewis pauses, looking at you intently. “Y/N, you’re my soulmate. That means you’re more important than any career, any amount of fame or money. We’ll figure out the details later, but right now, keeping you safe is all that matters.”

His words make your heart swell. You’ve never had anyone put you first like this before. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lewis smiles. “Just trust me, okay?”

You nod, feeling a sense of calm settle over you despite the chaotic situation. “I do trust you. Let’s go.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath, thinking of all you’re leaving behind — your family, your duty, the only life you’ve ever known. But as you look at Lewis, you realize you’re also stepping into a new life. One where you’re free to be yourself, to love who you want, to follow your heart.

“Ready,” you say firmly.

And with that, Lewis opens the door, and together, you step out into your new future.

***

The private jet hums softly as it cuts through the night sky, carrying you away from everything you’ve ever known. You’re curled up against Lewis on the plush leather seat, your head resting on his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear is oddly comforting, grounding you in this surreal moment.

Lewis’ arm is wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your back. With your free hand, you trace the lines of his soulmate tattoo — your first words to him, now etched forever on his skin.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” you murmur, your fingers following the curves of each letter.

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I know what you mean. I’ve imagined meeting you so many times, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality.”

You look up at him, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. “Weren’t you afraid? When you realized who I was?”

“Afraid?” Lewis considers for a moment. “No, not afraid. Excited, nervous, maybe a little overwhelmed. But not afraid.” He pauses, his expression growing serious. “But you were. You’re still afraid now, aren’t you?”

You nod slowly, dropping your gaze back to his wrist. “I’ve been afraid for so long, I’m not sure I know how to stop.”

Lewis’ hand moves to cup your face gently, encouraging you to look at him again. “Will you tell me about it? Help me understand?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “It’s ... it’s not a pleasant story.”

“I’m here,” Lewis says softly. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

His words, so simple yet so profound, give you the courage to begin. “It started with my brother, Edward. He was always the rebellious one, you know? Always pushing boundaries, questioning traditions. When he found his soulmate, he was over the moon. Her name was Lily, and she was ... she was perfect for him. Kind, funny, passionate about the same causes he was.”

You pause, the memory of your brother’s joy contrasting sharply with what came after. Lewis waits patiently, his presence a comforting anchor.

“For a few months, they managed to keep it a secret. But eventually, someone saw them together. Word got back to our parents and ...” You shudder, remembering that awful day. “They were furious. They gave Edward an ultimatum: give up Lily or give up his place in the line of succession.”

“That’s horrible,” Lewis murmurs, his arm tightening around you.

You nod, continuing, “Edward refused. He said Lily was more important than any throne. So they ... they decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Your voice breaks as you recount what happened next. “They had the royal physician burn off Edward’s soulmate mark. I can still hear his screams echoing through the palace. It was ... it was torture.”

Lewis’ body tenses beneath you, his voice tight with anger when he speaks. “They had no right. How could they do that to their own son?”

“They said it was for the good of the country,” you reply bitterly. “That royals can’t afford the luxury of soulmates. Our marriages are political tools, nothing more.”

“What happened to Edward and Lily?” Lewis asks gently.

You sigh heavily. “Edward was never the same after that. The spark in him just ... died. He does his duty now, makes the appearances he’s supposed to, but it’s like he’s just going through the motions. And Lily ... last I heard, she moved to Australia. I think being anywhere near the UK was too painful for her.”

Lewis is quiet for a moment, processing your words. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Y/N. No wonder you were scared when you realized we were soulmates.”

You nod, feeling the weight of years of fear and secrecy lifting as you share your story. “That’s not even the worst of it,” you admit softly.

Lewis looks at you, concern etched on his face. “There’s more?”

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself for the hardest part of the story. “My father ... he had an older sister. Aunt Margaret. I never met her, but I found out about her a few years ago.”

Lewis listens intently as you continue, “She found her soulmate when she was young, maybe 20 or so. And she refused to give him up, no matter what my grandparents said. They tried everything — threats, bribes, even attempting to arrange another match for her. But Margaret stood firm.”

“She sounds brave,” Lewis comments.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “She was. But bravery wasn’t enough. One night, both Margaret and her soulmate disappeared. The official story was that they’d eloped, run off to start a new life together. But that wasn’t the truth.”

Lewis’ body tenses again, as if bracing for what’s coming. You press on, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started.

“Margaret’s soulmate was ... dealt with. Permanently. And Margaret herself was institutionalized. Locked away in a private facility, hidden from the world.”

“That’s ... that’s monstrous,” Lewis breathes, horror evident in his voice.

You nod, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “When I found out, I couldn’t believe it. I managed to find out where she was being held and I ... I visited her.”

Lewis’ hand resumes its gentle stroking of your back, encouraging you to continue.

“She was ... god, Lewis, she was just a shell. Decades of being locked away, of being separated from her soulmate ... it had broken her. She didn’t even seem to realize I was there.”

A tear escapes, rolling down your cheek. Lewis gently wipes it away with his thumb.

“That’s why I was so scared,” you whisper. “I’ve seen what my family is capable of. What lengths they’ll go to in order to keep up appearances, to maintain their idea of duty.”

Lewis is quiet for a long moment, his arms tightening around you protectively. When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with a mix of anger and determination.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he says firmly. “What happened to your brother, to your aunt ... it was wrong. Cruel and wrong. But I promise you, I will not let that happen to us.”

You look up at him, seeing the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we’re not alone in this,” Lewis explains. “We have resources they don’t. My citizenship, for one. The laws protecting soulmates in Brazil. And beyond that, we have the power of public opinion.”

You frown, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lewis shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Think about it. Your family’s power comes from public support, right? What do you think would happen if the world found out they were separating soulmates, institutionalizing people?”

“It would be a scandal,” you realize, your eyes widening.

“Exactly,” Lewis nods. “We’re not helpless. If they try anything, we can fight back. We can tell our story, rally support. The world has changed a lot. People believe in the sanctity of soulmates now more than ever.”

His words spark a tiny flame of hope in your chest. “You really think we could do that?”

“I know we could,” Lewis says confidently. “But more than that, I don’t think we’ll have to. Your family isn’t stupid. They’ll realize the risk isn’t worth it. Especially not with someone as high-profile as me.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that. “Modest, aren’t you?”

Lewis grins, the tension of the moment breaking. “Hey, I’m just stating facts. Seven-time world champion, remember?”

You roll your eyes playfully, but then grow serious again. “Lewis ... thank you. For listening, for understanding. For not running away when you realized how complicated this all is.”

“Hey,” Lewis says softly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes. “You’re my soulmate. That means we’re in this together, complications and all. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words wash over you, soothing fears you’ve carried for so long. For the first time, you allow yourself to truly believe that maybe, just maybe, you can have this. You can have him.

“So,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips. “What happens now?”

Lewis grins, his eyes twinkling with excitement and possibility. “Now? Now we start our adventure. We land in São Paulo, get your citizenship sorted out, and then ... well, then the world’s our oyster. We can go anywhere, do anything.”

“Anything?” You ask, the concept of such freedom almost dizzying.

“Anything,” Lewis confirms. “We could travel the world. Or we could find a quiet place to settle down if that’s what you prefer. We could work on charitable causes together, or you could pursue whatever dreams you’ve had to put aside because of your royal duties.”

The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more exciting than the last. “I ... I don’t even know where to start,” you admit.

Lewis chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We don’t have to decide everything right now. We’ve got time. For now, let’s just focus on getting to Brazil safely. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

You nod, settling back against his chest. The steady beat of his heart syncs with the hum of the jet engines, lulling you into a sense of peace you haven’t felt in years.

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of your soulmate’s arms, you realize something. For the first time in your life, you’re not afraid of the future. Instead, you’re excited to see what it holds.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together. You and Lewis, two halves of a whole, finally united. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but with him by your side, you’re ready for anything.

***

As the private jet touches down on Brazilian soil, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach. Lewis gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as the plane rolls to a stop.

“Ready?” He asks, his warm brown eyes meeting yours.

You take a deep breath and nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

The cabin door opens, and the humid Brazilian air rushes in. Lewis leads you down the steps, his hand never leaving yours. At the bottom, a tall woman in a crisp suit waits, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun.

“Mr. Hamilton,” she greets with a warm smile, extending her hand. “And Your Royal Highness. Welcome to Brazil. I’m Dr. Raquel Santos from the Department of Soulmate Affairs.”

Lewis shakes her hand. “Dr. Santos, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“Of course,” she replies, turning to you. “Your Highness, it’s an honor.”

You shake her hand, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “Please, just call me Y/N. I ... I’m not sure how much of a royal I am anymore.”

Dr. Santos’ smile softens. “Of course, Y/N. Why don’t we move this conversation somewhere more private? I have a car waiting to take us to a secure location where we can discuss everything in detail.”

You and Lewis follow her to a sleek black car. Once inside, Dr. Santos turns to face you both.

“First and foremost,” she begins, “I want to assure you that you are under the full protection of Brazilian law. As soon as you stepped off that plane, Y/N, you became entitled to all the rights and protections we offer to soulmates.”

“Just like that?” You ask, hardly daring to believe it could be so simple.

Dr. Santos nods. “Just like that. Brazil takes soulmate rights very seriously. We believe that the bond between soulmates is sacred and should be protected at all costs.”

Lewis leans forward, his expression serious. “What exactly does that protection entail? Y/N’s situation is ... complicated.”

“I understand,” Dr. Santos says. “Your assistant filled me in on some of the details during our phone call. Let me break down the key points for you.”

As the car glides through the streets of São Paulo, Dr. Santos begins her explanation.

“First, as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen, Y/N is immediately eligible for Brazilian citizenship. We can begin the paperwork right away. This will provide an added layer of protection against any attempts at extradition.”

You feel a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. “So my family can’t force me to return to the UK?”

“Correct,” Dr. Santos confirms. “Brazil does not recognize any authority over soulmate bonds, not even royal decrees. Your status as a princess is irrelevant in the eyes of our law when it comes to your rights as a soulmate.”

Lewis squeezes your hand, a smile playing on his lips. “See? I told you we’d figure it out.”

Dr. Santos continues, “Furthermore, we have specific laws protecting soulmates from forced separation. Any attempt to interfere with your bond — be it physical separation, coercion, or even attempts to remove or alter your soulmate marks — is considered a serious crime in Brazil.”

You unconsciously rub your wrist where your tattoo is hidden. “What about ... what if they try to claim I’m mentally unfit or something? To try and invalidate my choices?”

Dr. Santos’ expression turns serious. “We’ve seen such tactics used before, unfortunately. That’s why we have safeguards in place. Any claims of mental unfitness would require extensive evaluation by multiple independent Brazilian psychiatrists.”

“And if they try to use their diplomatic influence?” Lewis asks.

“Brazil’s stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable,” Dr. Santos states firmly. “We’ve stood up to pressure from other nations before, and we won’t hesitate to do so again. Your bond is protected here, regardless of external political pressures.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “This all sounds almost too good to be true.”

Dr. Santos smiles warmly. “I understand your caution, Y/N. But I assure you, these protections are very real and very enforceable. Now, let me explain some of the practical aspects of your situation.”

As the car turns onto a quieter street, Dr. Santos pulls out a tablet. “We’ll need to register your bond officially. This involves a simple verification process — usually just a visual confirmation of a matching font on your soulmate marks. Once registered, you’ll be issued official documentation of your bond status.”

“What does that documentation do?” You ask, leaning forward with interest.

“It serves several purposes,” Dr. Santos explains. “Firstly, it’s legal proof of your bond, which can be used to claim various rights and protections under Brazilian law. It also serves as a form of identification and can be used to expedite your citizenship application.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “And what about privacy? Given our high profiles, we’re concerned about information leaks.”

“An excellent question,” Dr. Santos says. “We take privacy very seriously, especially in high-profile cases like yours. All information related to your bond and Y/N’s presence in Brazil will be classified at the highest level. Only a select few government officials will have access to this information.”

You feel a surge of gratitude towards this woman and the country she represents. “Dr. Santos, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Protecting soulmates is not just my job, it’s my passion. Now, let’s discuss some of the support services available to you.”

As the car pulls up to a nondescript building, Dr. Santos continues her explanation. “We offer counseling services specifically tailored for soulmates who have faced separation or threats to their bond. These services are completely confidential and can be invaluable in helping you process your experiences and adjust to your new life.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I think ... I think that might be really helpful.”

Lewis wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “We’ll get through this together, love. Whatever you need.”

Dr. Santos leads you into the building and up to a comfortably furnished office. As you all take seats, she pulls out some forms.

“Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” she says gently. “But I’d like to start the official registration process, if you’re ready. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you’ll have legal protection.”

You look at Lewis, who gives you an encouraging nod. “Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

As Dr. Santos begins to explain the forms, a thought occurs to you. “Dr. Santos, what about Lewis? How will all of this affect his career?”

Dr. Santos smiles. “I’m glad you asked. Mr. Hamilton, as a Brazilian citizen, you have the right to have your soulmate with you wherever your career takes you. We can provide diplomatic assistance to ensure Y/N can travel with you freely, without risk of detention or forced return to the UK.”

Lewis grins, looking relieved. “That’s fantastic news. I was worried I might have to give up racing.”

“Not at all,” Dr. Santos assures him. “We believe that soulmates should support each other’s dreams and ambitions. Our laws are designed to facilitate that.”

As you begin filling out the forms, a sense of surreal calm washes over you. For the first time in your life, you feel truly protected, truly free to be with the person you’re meant to be with.

“There’s one more thing,” Dr. Santos says as you finish the paperwork. “As part of our soulmate protection program, we offer a safe house service. It’s a secure location where you can stay while you adjust to your new situation and decide on your next steps. Would you be interested in that?”

You and Lewis exchange a look. “I think that might be a good idea,” Lewis says. “At least for a little while, until we figure things out. My home here isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes, please. That sounds perfect.”

Dr. Santos smiles, clearly pleased. “Excellent. I’ll make the arrangements right away. The location is completely confidential and guarded 24/7. You’ll be safe there.”

As she stands to make some calls, you turn to Lewis, feeling overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.

“Lewis,” you say softly, “I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me. You’ve turned your whole life upside down.”

He takes your hands in his, his eyes shining with emotion. “You’re my soulmate. My whole life was leading up to finding you. Everything else? It’s just details we’ll figure out together.”

You lean in, resting your forehead against his. For the first time since you can remember, you feel truly, completely safe. Protected not just by laws and governments, but by the love of the person you were always meant to find.

As Dr. Santos returns to finalize the arrangements, you realize that this isn’t just the end of your old life. It’s the beginning of something new, something wonderful. A life where you’re free to love, free to be yourself, free to explore the bond that fate has given you.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know now that you won’t face them alone. You have Lewis, you have the protection of Brazilian law, and most importantly, you have hope. The future, once so terrifying, now shines with possibility.

And as you leave the office hand in hand with Lewis, ready to start your new life together, you can’t help but smile. Because for the first time, you’re not running away from something.

You’re running towards it.

***

The roar of engines and the buzz of excitement fill the air as you stand at the entrance to the Autódromo José Carlos Pace. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of nerves and exhilaration coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand is warm and steady in yours, a constant reminder that you’re not alone.

“Are you ready for this?” Lewis asks, his brown eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s time to stop hiding.”

Lewis nods, a proud smile lighting up his face. “That’s my girl. Remember, whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

With one last reassuring squeeze, Lewis leads you into the paddock. The moment you step into view, a hush falls over the nearby crowd. Then, like a wave, whispers and exclamations ripple outward.

“Is that ...”

“It can’t be ...”

“The princess!”

“With Lewis Hamilton?”

Cameras flash in a frenzy, and reporters surge forward, held back only by the security team flanking you and Lewis. You keep your head high, your hand firmly in Lewis’ as you make your way through the paddock.

A brave reporter manages to shout a question over the commotion. “Your Highness! Is it true you’ve been in hiding in Brazil?”

You pause, looking to Lewis. He gives you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you turn to face the press.

“Yes, it’s true,” you say, your voice steady despite your nerves. “I’ve been in Brazil for the past few months, under the protection of the Brazilian government.”

The questions come rapid-fire after that.

“Why did you leave the UK?”

“Are you and Lewis Hamilton really soulmates?”

“What does the royal family have to say about this?”

Lewis steps forward, his arm protectively around your waist. “We’ll be holding a press conference later to address all your questions. For now, we ask for your patience and understanding as we prepare for the race.”

As you continue through the paddock, you can’t help but think back on the tumultuous months that led to this moment ...

The first few weeks in Brazil had been a whirlwind of paperwork, security briefings, and adjusting to your new reality. You and Lewis had stayed in the safe house provided by the Brazilian government, venturing out only when necessary and always under heavy guard.

One morning, about a month into your stay, Dr. Santos had arrived with a grim expression.

“We’ve intercepted some concerning communications,” she had said, her usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “It seems the British royal family has intensified their search for you, Y/N. They’re making threats.”

You had felt your heart drop. “What kind of threats?”

Dr. Santos had hesitated before answering. “They’re threatening to use their diplomatic influence to pressure Brazil into returning you. They’re also ... they’re suggesting that you might be mentally unfit, that you’ve been coerced or manipulated.”

Lewis had immediately pulled you close, his jaw clenched in anger. “They can’t do that. We won’t let them.”

“And we won’t,” Dr. Santos had assured you both. “Our stance on soulmate rights is non-negotiable. But I want you to be prepared. This might get ugly.”

And it had. Over the next few months, your family had tried everything. Diplomatic pressure, media manipulation, even attempts to infiltrate Brazilian government systems to locate you. But Brazil had stood firm, and you had remained safe.

A commotion near the Mercedes garage snaps you back to the present. You see a group of men in dark suits pushing their way through the crowd, their expressions grim and determined. Your blood runs cold as you recognize one of them — your father’s head of security.

“Lewis,” you whisper urgently, “they’re here.”

Lewis’ arm tightens around you as he quickly assesses the situation. “Stay calm. Remember the plan.”

As the men approach, the lead one steps forward, his voice loud and authoritative. “Your Royal Highness, by order of His Majesty the King, you are to return to the United Kingdom immediately.”

You feel all eyes on you, the paddock having gone deathly quiet. Taking a deep breath, you step forward, your voice clear and steady. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I am here of my own free will, protected by Brazilian law as the soulmate of a Brazilian citizen.”

The man’s expression hardens. “Your Highness, please don’t make this difficult. Your family is concerned for your well-being. They believe you may have been coerced or manipulated-”

“The only manipulation here,” Lewis interrupts, his voice sharp, “is coming from those who would separate soulmates for political gain.”

Just then, Dr. Santos appears, flanked by Brazilian officials. “Gentlemen,” she says coolly to the British security team, “I’m afraid you’re overstepping. Y/N is under the protection of the Brazilian government. Any attempt to remove her against her will would be considered means for an international incident.”

The head of security sputters, clearly not having expected this level of resistance. “This is a family matter-”

“No,” you interject, your voice stronger now. “This is a matter of human rights. The right to be with one’s soulmate. A right that Brazil recognizes and protects.”

Dr. Santos nods approvingly. “Furthermore, any claims of mental unfitness have been thoroughly disproven by independent psychiatric evaluation. Y/N is here of her own free will, in full possession of her faculties.”

The security team looks at each other uncertainly, clearly realizing they’re outmatched. The lead man makes one last attempt. “Your Highness, please. Your family misses you. They want you to come home.”

For a moment, you feel a pang of sadness for the life you left behind. But then you feel Lewis’ steady presence beside you, and you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“I am home,” you say softly but firmly. “My home is with my soulmate, wherever that may be.”

The man opens his mouth to argue further, but Dr. Santos cuts him off. “Gentlemen, I believe it’s time for you to leave. Unless you’d like us to involve the authorities?”

Realizing they’re defeated, the security team begins to retreat. As they leave, you hear murmurs of admiration and support from the crowd that has gathered to watch the confrontation.

Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace. “You were amazing,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

As you pull back, you see reporters clamoring for comments, their cameras flashing incessantly. Dr. Santos steps forward to address them.

“A full press conference will be held later today,” she announces. “For now, I can confirm that Y/N, formally known as Her Royal Highness, is here legally and of her own free will as the soulmate of Lewis Hamilton. She is under the full protection of Brazilian law, and any attempts to interfere with their bond will be met with the full force of our legal system.”

As Dr. Santos continues to field questions, Lewis turns to you. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m more than okay. For the first time, I feel ... free.”

Lewis grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because we’ve got a race to win.”

As you make your way to the Mercedes garage, you’re overwhelmed by the support you receive. Team members, other drivers, and even fans call out words of encouragement.

“We’ve got your back, Y/N!”

“Love wins!”

“You show ‘em, Lewis!”

Inside the garage, the team greets you warmly. Toto approaches with a smile.

“Y/N, Lewis,” he says, shaking both your hands. “That was quite an entrance. Are you sure you’re up for all this today?”

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. It’s time to show the world that love doesn’t make you weak. It makes you stronger.”

Lewis beams at your words. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, let’s go win this race, yeah?”

As Lewis begins his pre-race preparations, you find a quiet corner to collect your thoughts. The events of the past few months flash through your mind — the fear, the uncertainty, but also the overwhelming love and support you’ve received.

You think about your family, about the life you left behind. There’s sadness there, but no regret. You’ve found something more precious than any crown — the freedom to love, to be yourself, to follow your heart.

A gentle hand on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to see Lewis, now in his race suit, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks softly.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How grateful I am for you, for Brazil, for everyone who’s supported us.”

Lewis leans into your touch, his eyes shining with emotion. “We’re the lucky ones, Y/N. To have found each other, to have this chance at happiness. And I promise you, I’ll spend every day making sure you never regret your choice.”

You stand, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I could never regret choosing you. You’re my soulmate, my home, my everything.”

As you lean in for a kiss, the garage erupts in cheers and whistles. You break apart, laughing, to see the entire team watching with grins on their faces.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Toto calls out good-naturedly. “Save it for after the race. Lewis, you’ve got a championship to chase.”

Lewis gives you one last quick kiss before pulling on his helmet. “Watch me fly, Princess,” he says with a wink.

As he heads out to the track, you take your place in the garage, surrounded by your new family — the team that has embraced you without question. You feel a sense of belonging, of purpose, that you’ve never experienced before.

The roar of engines fills the air as the race begins. You watch Lewis navigate the track with precision and skill, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your life now — the excitement of race day, the thrill of competition, but most importantly, the joy of being with your soulmate.

As Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, the garage erupts in celebration. You rush out to meet him in parc fermé, not caring about protocol or propriety. Lewis sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around as the crowd cheers.

In that moment, with the sun shining down and the sound of celebration all around, you know that you’ve made the right choice. This is where you belong — by Lewis’ side, free to love and be loved, ready to face whatever challenges come your way.

Together.

***

The familiar scent of motor oil and rubber fills the air as you step onto British soil for the first time in over a year. Silverstone buzzes with excitement, but you can’t shake the nervous energy coursing through your veins. Lewis’ hand finds yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “I think so. It’s just ... strange being back.”

Lewis pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Remember, you’re not alone. We’ve got security everywhere, and I’m right here with you.”

As if on cue, the head of your security team, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Maria, approaches. “Everything’s clear, Ms. Y/N. We’ve swept the entire area and have eyes on all entry points.”

You smile gratefully at her. “Thank you, Maria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Maria’s stern expression softens slightly. “Just doing our job, ma’am. Your safety is our top priority.”

As you make your way through the paddock, you can’t help but notice the stares and whispers that follow you. Some are curious, others admiring, and a few ... less than friendly. But your security team forms a protective barrier around you and Lewis, keeping any potential trouble at bay.

“Y/N! Lewis!” A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Fred Vasseur approaching, a warm smile on his face. “Welcome back to Silverstone. How are you holding up?”

“It’s ... intense,” you admit. “But I’m glad to be here, supporting Lewis.”

Fred nods understandingly. “Well, you’ve got the whole team behind you. Anyone gives you trouble, they’ll have to answer to all of Ferrari.”

As you continue through the paddock, greeting team members and other drivers, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Not just by the curious onlookers, but by someone ... familiar.

That’s when you see him. Standing near the VIP area, looking as regal and composed as ever, is your brother.

Your heart skips a beat. You haven’t seen Edward since that fateful day you ran away. Lewis, sensing your tension, follows your gaze.

“Is that ...” he asks quietly.

You nod, unable to find words. Lewis turns to Maria. “Can you make sure we have a private moment?”

Maria nods, already signaling to her team. Within moments, they’ve created a small bubble of privacy around you and Edward.

Edward approaches slowly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you both just stand there, years of unspoken words hanging between you.

Then, to your surprise, Edward’s composure cracks. His eyes fill with tears as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You cling to him, your own tears falling freely. “Eddie ... I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I just ... I couldn’t ...”

Edward pulls back, holding you at arm’s length. His eyes roam your face, as if memorizing every detail. “Don’t apologize. Not ever. What you did ... Y/N, I am so incredibly proud of you.”

His words catch you off guard. “Proud? But I abandoned the family, my duties ...”

Edward shakes his head firmly. “You chose love. You chose happiness. You did what I was too weak to do.”

You glance at Lewis, who’s standing a respectful distance away, giving you this moment with your brother. “Edward, this is Lewis. My soulmate.”

Edward extends his hand to Lewis. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lewis. Thank you for protecting my sister and giving her the happiness she deserves.”

Lewis shakes his hand, his expression sincere. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. Y/N is the bravest, most amazing person I know. I’m just lucky to be part of her life.”

Edward’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Please, call me Edward. And you’re right, she is amazing. Always has been.”

You look at your brother closely, noticing the lines of stress around his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders. “Eddie ... how are you? Really?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s ... not easy. The family is in turmoil after your departure. Father is furious, Mother is heartbroken, and I’m ... well, I’m trying to hold it all together.”

“And Lily?” You ask softly, referring to Edward’s soulmate. “Have you heard from her?”

Edward’s expression clouds over. “No. Not since ... not since that day.”

You take your brother’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still reach out to her.”

Edward laughs bitterly. “And say what? ‘Sorry I let them burn off my soulmate mark and married someone else. Want to grab coffee?’”

Lewis steps forward, his voice gentle but firm. “With all due respect, Your High- Edward, it’s never too late. The bond between soulmates ... it’s not something that can be erased, no matter what’s done to the physical mark.”

Edward looks at Lewis, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really believe that?”

Lewis nods. “I do. Y/N and I found each other against all odds. Who’s to say you and Lily can’t do the same?”

You squeeze Edward’s hand again. “Eddie, you deserve to be happy. You deserve love. It’s not too late to choose yourself, to choose love.”

Edward looks torn, glancing around at the crowds, the cameras, the weight of expectation that’s always surrounded you both. “But the family ...”

“Will still be there,” you say softly. “But you’ll be facing them as your true self, with your soulmate by your side. It makes all the difference, trust me.”

Your brother is quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with years of ingrained duty and expectation. Finally, he looks up, a new determination in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he says, his voice growing stronger. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve spent too long living for everyone else. It’s time I lived for myself.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Does this mean ...”

Edward nods, a mix of fear and excitement in his eyes. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to find Lily. I’m going to make things right.”

You throw your arms around your brother, hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. And I’ll be here for you, every step of the way.”

As you pull back, you see tears in Edward’s eyes, but also a lightness that you haven’t seen in years. “Thank you. For showing me that it’s possible to choose love. For being brave enough to pave the way.”

Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on Edward’s shoulder. “If you need any help — legal advice, security, anything — just say the word. You’re family now.”

Edward looks at Lewis gratefully. “Thank you. I might just take you up on that.”

Just then, Maria approaches discreetly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to move. The press is getting restless.”

You nod, turning back to Edward. “Will you be okay?”

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “I will be. For the first time in a long time, I think I really will be.”

As you prepare to part ways, Edward pulls you in for one last hug. “I love you, little sister. Thank you for reminding me what’s truly important.”

“I love you too, Eddie,” you whisper back. “Go find your happiness. You deserve it.”

With one last squeeze, Edward steps back. As he walks away, you see him pull out his phone, a look of determination on his face. You have a feeling you know exactly who he’s about to call.

Lewis wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “You okay, love?”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “More than okay. I feel ... hopeful. For Eddie, for us, for everything.”

As you make your way back through the paddock, you’re struck by how different everything feels. The stares don’t bother you as much, the whispers fade into background noise. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, with the person you’re meant to be with.

“You know,” Lewis says as you reach the Ferrari garage, “I think I’m going to win this race.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure?”

Lewis grins, pulling you close. “Because I’ve got my lucky charm by my side. How can I lose?”

You laugh, the sound light and free. “Well, in that case, you’d better not disappoint. I expect nothing less than a victory, Sir Hamilton.”

As Lewis leans in for a kiss, you’re vaguely aware of cameras flashing and people cheering. But none of that matters. What matters is this moment, this love, this life you’ve chosen.

You think back to a year ago, when you were terrified of finding your soulmate, of the consequences it would bring. Now, standing here at Silverstone, with Lewis by your side and the hope of your brother finding his own happiness, you realize that choosing love wasn’t just the brave choice.

It was the only choice.

As Lewis heads off to prepare for the race, you take your place in the garage. The roar of engines fills the air, and you feel a surge of excitement.

This is your life now. Supporting Lewis, championing love, and showing the world that sometimes, the greatest act of duty is being true to yourself.

As the race begins, you watch Lewis tear around the track, your heart swelling with pride and love. You may not wear a tiara anymore, but you’ve gained something far more precious — the freedom to love, to choose, to be yourself.

And as the chequered flag waves and Lewis crosses the finish line in first place, you know that this victory isn’t just his.

It’s yours. It’s Edward’s. It’s everyone who’s ever had the courage to choose love over duty, happiness over expectation.

As you rush to congratulate Lewis, wrapped in his arms as the crowd cheers, you know that this is just the beginning. There will be challenges ahead, obstacles to overcome. But with love by your side and the strength to be true to yourself, you’re ready to face whatever comes.

Because in the end, love always wins. And you? You’re living proof of that.

***

The warm Brazilian sun streams through the windows of the spacious beachfront home, filling the living room with a golden glow. The sound of children’s laughter mingles with the distant crash of waves, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

You’re seated on the plush carpet, surrounded by an array of colorful toys. Your three-year-old daughter, Emilia, is busily stacking blocks, her little face scrunched in concentration. Across from you, Edward is attempting to wrangle his own two-year-old son, James, who seems more interested in knocking down Emilia’s creations than building his own.

“James, darling, let’s build our own tower, shall we?” Edward coaxes gently, redirecting his son’s attention.

You can’t help but smile at the scene. Five years ago, you never could have imagined this — you and Edward, raising your children together, free from the constraints of royal duty.

The sound of a door opening draws your attention. Lewis walks in, his arms full of grocery bags, closely followed by Lily.

“We come bearing snacks!” Lewis announces with a grin.

Emilia’s head snaps up at the sight of her favorite person. “Daddy!” She squeals, abandoning her blocks and running to Lewis.

Lewis sets down the bags just in time to scoop up his daughter, peppering her face with kisses. “Hello, my little racer. Have you been good for Mummy?”

Emilia nods enthusiastically. “I builded a big tower!”

“Built, sweetheart,” you correct gently, getting to your feet. “And it was a very impressive tower indeed.”

Lewis sets Emilia down and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And how’s my other favorite girl doing?”

You smile, leaning into his embrace. “Better now that you’re home. How was the market?”

“Busy,” Lily chimes in, setting down her own bags. “But we managed to get everything on the list, plus a few extras.”

Edward stands, hoisting James onto his hip. “Extras, you say? Let me guess — more of those brigadeiros that you’re definitely not addicted to, right, love?”

Lily’s cheeks flush slightly as she laughs. “I plead the fifth. This baby wants what it wants.”

Your eyes light up at the reminder. Lily is five months pregnant with their second child, and you’re all buzzing with excitement.

“Speaking of the baby,” you say, moving to help unpack the groceries, “have you two decided if you’re going to find out the gender?”

Edward and Lily exchange a look. “We’re still debating,” Edward admits. “Part of me wants to know, but there’s also something nice about the surprise.”

Lewis chuckles, joining you in the kitchen. “I remember that debate. Though if I recall correctly, someone couldn’t handle the suspense and made me call the doctor at two in the morning to find out.”

You playfully swat his arm. “Hey, you were just as curious as I was!”

As you all work together to put away the groceries and prepare snacks for the kids, you’re struck by how natural this all feels. The easy banter, the shared responsibilities, the love that permeates every interaction. It’s a far cry from the rigid formality of your royal upbringing.

“You know,” Edward says, as if reading your thoughts, “sometimes I still can’t believe this is our life now.”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s so different from what we always thought our futures would be.”

Lily comes up behind Edward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Different, but better, right?”

Edward turns, pulling her close. “Infinitely better. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As you watch your brother with his soulmate, you feel a wave of happiness and gratitude wash over you. It hadn’t been easy for Edward to follow in your footsteps, to give up his place in the line of succession and choose love over duty. But seeing him now, so relaxed and genuinely happy, you know it was worth every struggle.

“Earth to Y/N,” Lewis’ voice breaks through your reverie. “Where’d you go just now?”

You smile, shaking your head. “Just thinking about how far we’ve all come. How different things could have been.”

Lewis nods, understanding in his eyes. “Do you ever regret it? Giving up your title, your life in England?”

You don’t hesitate for a second. “Never. This life, with you, with our family — it’s more than I ever dreamed possible.”

A sudden crash from the living room interrupts the moment. You all rush in to find James standing triumphantly atop a mountain of scattered blocks, while Emilia looks on in horror.

“James Edward Henry Albert Windsor!” Lily exclaims, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her amusement. “What have we said about destroying other people’s creations?”

James, looking not at all repentant, grins widely. “I king of the castle!”

Edward struggles to keep a straight face as he lifts his son off the block mountain. “Yes, well, kings should be builders, not destroyers. Let’s clean this up and then we can all build a castle together, okay?”

As you all pitch in to help clean up the blocks, Emilia tugs on your sleeve. “Mummy, will James be a real king someday?”

The question catches you off guard. You exchange a look with Edward, unsure how to explain the complicated reality of your family’s situation.

Lewis kneels down next to Emilia, his voice gentle. “No, sweetheart. James won’t be a king and you won’t be a princess. But that’s okay, because you get to be something even better.”

Emilia’s eyes widen with curiosity. “What’s that, Daddy?”

Lewis smiles, pulling her into a hug. “You get to be yourself. You get to choose who you want to be and what you want to do with your life. And that’s much more special.”

You feel tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the simple beauty of Lewis’ words. This is why you left, why you chose this life. So that your children could have the freedom you and Edward never had growing up.

As the afternoon wears on, you all migrate to the back patio. The kids play in the sand under the watchful eyes of their parents, while you, Lewis, Edward, and Lily relax on the comfortable outdoor furniture.

“So,” Lily says, her hand resting on her growing belly, “have you two given any thought to expanding your own family?”

You and Lewis share a knowing look. “Actually,” you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice, “we’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell, little sister.”

Lewis takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “We’re thinking of adopting. There are so many children out there who need loving homes, and we have more than enough love to give.”

“That’s wonderful!” Lily exclaims, her eyes shining. “Oh, Emilia would love a little brother or sister.”

You nod, watching your daughter play. “We think so too. We’re just starting the process, but it feels right.”

Edward leans forward, his expression serious. “Have you thought about how this might affect things back in England? The press ...”

You sigh, having expected this question. “We have. And honestly, we’ve decided that it doesn’t matter what they think. This is our life, our family. We’re not going to let fear of judgment or outdated institutions dictate our choices anymore.”

Lewis nods in agreement. “We’ve already faced the worst they could throw at us. We came out stronger. Whatever comes next, we can handle it together.”

Edward’s serious expression melts into a proud smile. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, old habits die hard I suppose. I’m thrilled for you both, truly.”

As the conversation flows, touching on everything from potential names for Lily and Edward’s baby to Lewis’ upcoming ambassador campaign, you’re struck by how perfectly imperfect this life is. It’s messy and chaotic at times, full of unexpected challenges and joy in equal measure. But it’s real, and it’s yours.

The sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. James and Emilia, tired from their day of play, curl up in their fathers’ laps. As you watch your brother gently stroke his son’s hair, you remember a conversation from years ago.

“Eddie,” you say softly, “do you remember what you told me the day they ... the day they burned off your soulmate mark?”

Edward looks up, his eyes clouding with the memory. “I told you that if you ever found your soulmate, you should run. Run far away and don’t look back.”

You nod, feeling Lewis’ arm tighten around you. “I’m so glad I took your advice. And I’m even more glad that you eventually followed it too.”

Edward smiles, looking down at James and then over at Lily. “So am I, Y/N. So am I.”

As the evening draws in, you all move inside. The kids are put to bed, their excited chatter about building sandcastles and racing cars fading into peaceful sleep. You, Lewis, Edward, and Lily settle in the living room, glasses of wine in hand (sparkling juice for Lily).

“A toast,” Lewis proposes, raising his glass. “To family, to love, and to the courage to choose our own path.”

“To freedom,” Edward adds, his eyes shining with emotion.

“To second chances,” Lily chimes in, her hand resting on her belly.

You raise your own glass, feeling a swell of emotion. “To us. All of us. And to the beautiful, chaotic, perfectly imperfect life we’ve built together.”

As you clink glasses, you catch Lewis’ eye. In that moment, you’re transported back to that day at Silverstone, when you first ran into each other. The fear, the excitement, the life-changing decision you made in an instant.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

As the night wears on and conversation flows freely, you realize that this — this warmth, this love, this freedom — this is what happily ever after really looks like. It’s not a fairy tale ending, but a beginning. A beginning of a life filled with love, choice, and the joy of being truly yourself.

And as you curl up in bed that night, Lewis’ arms around you and the sound of the ocean in the distance, you know that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Your family’s story is still being written. And you can’t wait to see what the next chapter brings.

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[leafyeyes417]

To soothe myself from my last post where it’s non-Joker hate *shudders* here have this.

————————————————————————

The first three months of Danny’s stay in Gotham had been mostly quiet. No big Rogue attacks since most of them were in Arkham. Unfortunately that had come to an end. There was a mass breakout and among them was the Joker.

Danny had made friends with a couple people, during his classes, and had met his new crush Tim at a coffee shop. He was actually with Tim when they got the news about the breakout. They had been walking out to Tim’s car so he could be driven home when it happened.

Tim’s POV

He had been talking with Danny when he saw him shudder and stop walking.

He frowned, turning towards him. “Danny? What’s wrong?” He watched as Danny paled, full body twitched, then his eyes turned a glowing red that took over his entire eyes. He snarled, face almost inhuman as he turned and booked it down the street at inhuman speeds (though nowhere near Flash speed).

Scrambling Tim jumped in his car and chased after Danny, though he quickly lost him. He grabbed his com and turned it on. “Oracle, I need you to track someone.” He quickly rattled out along with the street information and Danny’s description.

“Red Robin, report.” Batman growled out.

“I was walking with my friend back to my car after we heard the news of the breakout. On the way there he froze and then… I’m not quite sure but whatever it was I don’t think he was in control anymore.”

There was silence for a few moments on the coms. Oracle spoke, “I think I found his location. The cameras are fritzing out big time in a decent area near your location.”

When he managed to get there he was honestly a little sickened. There was body parts and blood everywhere. Joker goons, from the occasional mask lying around. Swallowing he ventured deeper into the zone, having to turn off his coms due to the screeching interference.

When he finally set his eyes on Danny it was to see him arm deep into the Joker’s chest. He paused, watching as the Joker’s body fell to the floor, his heart still in Danny’s hand. He watched as Danny’s eyes stopped glowing red and he swayed, dropping the heart to bring a hand to his head.

“Danny?” He asked hesitantly.

Danny turned, a hazy expression on his face. “Tim?” He slurred out.

Quickly making his way over he managed to prevent Danny from toppling over, grimacing at the blood now coating his hand. He noticed the other bats and birds arriving on scene out of the corner of his eye, but stayed focused on Danny. “Let’s get you out of here.” He said gently as he guided Danny out of the area.

Later, after he had managed to get Danny some water and a bit of food, he asked, “Do you remember what happened, Danny?” His friend looked down at his blood covered hands. “I remember walking to your car when it was like I was being grabbed by a bunch of hands and I couldn’t move. Then… it almost felt like I was being stuffed into a box or something and everything was hazy and indistinct after that. I tried fighting it but it like catching smoke. Then I was being released but it was like I had no energy. I know you called my name but I don’t recall much until after you gave me the energy bar.”

Tim frowned, glancing at Black Bat. He saw her sign “true” and nodded. Looks like they might have to call the JLD on this one.

[thelostconsultant]

Invisible string

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Red Bull Racing has a new sponsor. You host a party as the head of that company to celebrate this agreement. Max has no choice but to attend, but the evening ends with a pleasant surprise after he meets you in person. Maybe he was wrong about you all along.

note: I'm everything but a scientist. If you are one, please, ignore the amount of inaccuracies. There must be a lot.

part two

“You're insane,” Robert told you for the hundredth time that day when he arrived at your place, although every time there was a little laugh accompanying the comment.

Maybe he was right. Deciding to spend over three hundred million dollars on sponsoring an F1 team did sound insane, but he did agree to do it, and you signed the contract together. Sure, sixty percent of the company was yours, it was mainly your call, but he was still your mentor.

But he didn't stand in your way, he knew how passionate you were about this sport, and your biotech company could use the PR and marketing opportunities that came with this partnership. And let's not forget about the political aspect, because there were lots of important people who loved the sport and supported a top team like Red Bull Racing.

Your assistant came up to you to ask a few questions, but once she was gone, you folded your arms and stuck out your tongue at Robert. “You’re just jealous because it was my idea. Jokes aside, it's a good thing. F1 comes to the US so many times these years, it's good to be a big sponsor of a top team. Have you seen what kind of people attend the races? Exactly who we need to charm.”

“You never had an issue with charming people without such a big investment,” he noted with a sigh.

You bit your lower lip and turned away to look out into the backyard that was by now full of party decorations. You wanted to celebrate the announcement with an elegant party at your place, and you invited board members, top employees, some important people to schmooze with, and people from the newly sponsored F1 team.

“We need some legislation changes to kickstart the new project, you know that,” you told him eventually when you turned back to him. “I wish we could afford to be patient, but we need to launch it as soon as we can.”

Robert put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. “You stress too much about that. Take it easy,” he said.

Easier said than done, but you didn't want to continue this conversation. “I need to get rid of my yoga pants and change into something red, so make yourself at home as usual,” you told him with a smile before rushing away.

“Oh, so you're still a Ferrari fan, aren't you?” he called after you, bringing up the elephant in the room.

With a laugh, you came to a halt and spinned on your heels to face him again. “Yeah, and my favorite team is a joke at the moment. This was purely a business decision.”

Max did his research. Well, it was mostly the team handing out dossiers about the host and her business partner, along with a couple of other important people who were expected to attend the party, but he did read every single page and memorized each and every one of them.

When he reached the gate of his destination, he found armed guards outside, and he let out a frustrated groan at the sight. It was ridiculous. He didn't even want to be here. But he had to be a good boy and attend to act as the poster boy of the team. Hopefully he just says hi, maybe says a few words about how great this partnership will be, exchanges a few sentences with a few people and that would be it.

“Loosen up a bit, you look terribly tense,” Adrian told him from the passenger seat.

Easy for him, at least he would have a funny story to tell at the party. The car he wanted to come with had been stolen from the hotel’s garage, and no one knew how anyone could take it. This gave him the ammunition to keep up conversations. Lucky bastard.

Meanwhile, what was he supposed to talk about? Driving? He talks about that all the time. His hobbies? These people probably weren't the target audience. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he eventually replied with a sigh.

“No one is, but sometimes we just have to play nice and schmooze with our sponsors. This is the first time they support an F1 team, I guess they're just excited.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Max replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just… I don't know, with all the things I've heard about our host, it sounds like she is some real life female Tony Stark. She already built such a huge company, she's responsible for big innovations, and she was on Forbes' 30 under 30 list… I mean, come on.”

Adrian watched him with a deep frown. “Does it have anything to do with the fact she's a woman?”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “God, no, it's because of her age. This isn't some app you can make in a college dorm, then sell for a lot of money. Building that company must have taken a lot of work, she couldn't have done it alone, yet every article the team cherry-picked for us failed to mention how she did it.”

“Well, from what I've read elsewhere, her partner really did help her with the administrative part of the project, but they talked to investors together. She's smart, and nice, and I one hundred percent believe she's capable of achieving this at her age. Might I add she's only a year younger than you? You don't seem to be in such a bad situation at your age either.”

Max took a deep breath to calm himself, but in the end he couldn’t hold back the painful grunt that's been waiting to come out. “I'm miserable,” he noted sadly as he parked the car.

But Adrian wasn't in the mood for this. “You're just whining now,” he pointed out patiently.

“Whatever.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the main entrance, passing by some people who looked like boring businessmen and their airhead partners. Maybe there was a politician among them too, at least one with a big voice sure made him believe that.

Inside the two of them separated, and Max took his time to take a look around. The house was impressive; four stories as he counted outside, modern, clean design, combined with a huge backyard that ended in a lake. It must have been peaceful when there was no crowd around.

After a while he went back inside but was soon intercepted by Christian. Crap, so much for a peaceful evening. “Oh, and here's Max,” he said happily as he put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to their little group.

“Hi,” was all Max managed to come up with.

“Welcome,” you said with a warm smile. “And good luck for this year.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to his boss with a curious look. “And where's Checo? I thought he would be coming as well.”

Christian seemed a little uneasy, but he managed to explain the absence of the team's other driver. “He has a family emergency,” he replied curtly.

Max bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep back a comment. He didn't want to attend this stupid party either, but for some reason he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

To his surprise, you began to laugh at this, then took a sip of your champagne with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Oh, the real get out of jail free card,” you noted.

Max snorted at this, and there was no way he could hide the huge grin that wanted to break out. All right, you got a brownie point for this comment, that's for sure.

“I'm sure he would love to be here,” Christian assured you.

“Sure.” You remained silent for a while, but just when Max was beginning to assume an awkward break would settle into the conversation, you spoke up again. “Well, I'm glad you're all here. Thank you for taking the time. Please, just make yourselves at home, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

At one point Adrian joined the little group and decided to become a part of the conversation with one last question. “Where's Mr. Hartford?” he asked.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you looked around. “I don't know, last time I saw him he was talking to a board member. But I'm sure he'll find and greet you too. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to a few more people. Have fun.”

The three of them watched as you walked away, and Max couldn't help but appreciate the view. That red jumpsuit you wore tonight hugged your figure so perfectly it almost made him drool. Almost. He could easily push that stupid part of his mind to the side for now. He couldn't let himself be fooled into believing you really were oh so perfect, there had to be something that was wrong with you.

“Did it kill you?” he heard Adrian's voice, and when he turned to him, he saw a knowing smile on his face.

Meanwhile Christian looked a little confused. “Did what kill him?”

“Talking to her.”

“What, you had an issue with that?”

“No,” Max protested, sending a disapproving look to the engineer who only laughed at him.

“Sure? You sounded kin–” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“You two are insufferable, you know that, right?” Max asked them with a sigh, then rolled his eyes and left without waiting for their answer. All he wanted was a quiet corner and another glass of champagne, maybe a few bites of those delicious sliders a waiter offered him not long ago.

“Are you planning to come up with something that can race against Neuralink?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. But you forced a polite smile on your face and took a deep breath. “It's easy to come up with new, flashy innovations, but let's not forget that the root of the problem is always a bioethical one. Let's take them and their animal testing procedures for example. Whether you like it or not, euthanizing so many animals does raise ethical questions.”

“But it's for a greater good,” another man noted, earning a few nods from the people around him.

“I don't know, I believe we need to find a way to test new technologies without hurting anything or anyone first. That's one of the things we're working on at the moment. Also there's another bioethical aspect, and that's the fact these things would be expensive. The general availability is highly questionable, it would only help the rich.”

That one politician you had no choice but to invite despite every cell in your body protesting against it began to laugh at this. “And what's wrong with that as long as they pay?”

Oh, you son of a bitch, how could you be so dense? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, but it was really hard at the moment. Luckily, Robert realized that this was a touchy subject, so he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“What she's trying to say is that it should be more than just a discussion about profit,” he began to explain. “Sure, that's important to finance our research, but science is supposed to help people.”

The man gave him a condescending look, as if he was disappointed that you would both choose to help people instead of earning a lot of money. What he didn't understand was the fact your company had highly profitable solutions, which gave you the opportunity to work on things that weren't as successful financially.

“For us,” you suddenly began, your finger moving in a circle as a sign that you were talking about the members of this little group, “going to a private hospital to get treatment and paying for our prescribed medication is normal. But let's not forget that almost 8 percent of the US population is uninsured. That's 26 million people. Let's say they start coughing. What do they do? They turn to home remedies because they can't afford the medical bill. Then things get worse as it turns into pneumonia and if they're lucky, they can go to a free clinic where they're prescribed meds. But can they pay for them?”

Robert nodded, then went on to add, “And it can be anything, really, even something contagious.” Clever. That guy was known for being a germaphobe, if anything, that could surely get his attention.

But he remained silent and a woman jumped in to drive the conversation instead of him. “What about different cybernetic implants? I mean, those are pretty impressive in movies, but how close are we to actually having them?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

A painful half an hour later you and Robert went outside, walking all the way out to the lake to build a little distance from the guests. “Thanks for backing me up there,” you told him before taking a sip of your cocktail.

“Anytime,” he said as he clinked his glass with yours.

Before he could say anything else, though, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. The both of you turned around and saw Max stand there with his hands in his pockets, watching you with a polite smile.

“You have a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” you replied as you took a few steps closer to him.

“I have to go, I just wanted to thank you for the invitation and say goodbye.”

You weren't used to guests you didn't really know coming over to say goodbye before they left. Most people usually just got in their cars and drove off without a word, but honestly, you were honestly grateful for that. But this goodbye was flattering, after all you could see it on his face that under the polite smile he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

With a nod, you held out your hand, and he took it without thinking. “Thanks for coming. I hope you could enjoy yourself a little bit. I know it's not a fun kind of party.”

“It was okay. Well, except for that woman who was raging about people who want to replace real meat with artificial meat,” he added with a laugh.

You froze and your eyes slowly narrowed at him. “Wait a second.”

Max looked genuinely confused, and his hand was still holding yours without either of you realizing it. “What?” he asked you.

“You're a genius! Excuse me.”

As you dropped his hand and began to walk away, he turned to Robert with a confused look on his face. “What did I say?” No response, only a shrug. “Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To the lab,” you finally told him without looking back.

Once again, Max turned back to the other man. “She's leaving her own party?”

“She has a lab in the basement,” you called back to answer his question.

Robert’s lips curled into an understanding smile. “Send me a text if it's something worth looking into,” he said, then turned back to Max and held up his hands. “Usually it's better not to ask.”

Despite Robert's warning, Max was now way too curious to simply ignore your strange behavior. He wanted to know what was going on in your head, so he followed you to the lab inside the house. He first arrived in an office, but through the huge windows he could see the actual lab.

“Is everything okay?” he asked after he softly knocked on the open door.

“Hmm?” You turned around with a questioning look, but once you realized it was him, you nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. What are you doing here?”

Max walked inside, feeling completely out of place. “You ran away so abruptly that I wanted to know what's going on.”

“You gave me an idea, that's what's going on.”

“Oookay… And what was the idea?” he asked as he watched you sit behind the desk and enter your password to unlock the laptop that was connected to several monitors.

“Using something artificial instead of the real thing. That way we can bypass a barrier that's been blocking us,” you replied without looking at him.

“You lost me.”

A sweet little laugh left your lips, a sound that drew him closer as if it was a siren’s song. “All right, can you promise to keep your mouth shut about what I'm about to tell you?” Max nodded, so you grabbed the chair next to you, then pulled it closer and pointed at it to make him sit down. “Good. So one of the issues with bioprinting is that we can't be sure whether or not the cells we're working with are damaged, meaning if there's a possibility of cancer showing up later on for example.”

You were so enthusiastic, but he was so damn lost. It was the result of an unfamiliar territory, and the fact his mind could mostly focus on the way your lips moved instead of the words that left them. “Wait, what's bioprinting exactly?” he asked, unsure if he had the right idea.

Nodding, you clicked on something and it brought up a video feed. “For example, this,” you said with a proud smile.

It looked like a 3D printer, that much he knew, but what it was printing was a mystery at the moment. “What's that?”

“A 3D printed heart that's being made from my own cells,” you replied with a wide grin. “Give it another few days and it'll be ready.”

“Is that real?”

“Yep. Although, and that's what I've just mentioned, I can't guarantee it doesn't have cancerous cells. But theoretically speaking, someone awaiting transplant could get it.”

Max let out a thoughtful hum as he looked back at you. “So what does it have to do with artificial things?”

“That's how we bypass the damaged cell issue. We just need to create artificial cells that we can then turn into whatever we want them to be.”

“You think it could work?”

After thinking about it for a short while, you eventually shrugged. “Maybe,” you said quietly as you leaned back in your swivel chair. “I need to put a team together and discuss our options, then we'll see. As of now it's just a wild idea.”

“Interesting.”

To be honest, he could spend the whole night doing nothing but listening to you talk about your work. Meeting you in person changed the way he had thought about you before arriving here, and now he wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He did a quick search after first talking to you, and he read an article from the end of the last year that stated you were single. That was two months ago, maybe that hadn't changed since then. But something told him you were way too in love with your career to worry about romantic relationships, so if he wanted to get your attention, he probably had to work hard for it.

Your phone's screen lit up on the desk and he didn't miss the wallpaper. It was one of those prayer circle memes with Charles’ photo on it, which made him realize something. “You're a Ferrari and Charles fan?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep, already getting ready for prayer circles as you can see,” you replied with a laugh as you showed him the screen. “That's their only hope, I swear.”

“Then why are you sponsoring us?” he asked.

“A business decision in its purest form.”

Was he disappointed? Maybe a little bit. In his head he was already making up scenarios, like the first time you went to a race to support him–yes, he was getting ahead of himself, so what–and now it felt like a bomb had been dropped on his plans. Sure, as a sponsor or his girlfriend you'd physically be in their garage, but your heart would be with the Italians.

Max let out a sigh as he nodded. “And here I was, thinking you just wanted to see your company's logo on a fast car. Didn't know you were actually watching the races.” He tried to keep a casual tone to make it sound like it didn't hurt him, but he had a feeling his disappointment was seeping through the cracks.

Because you remained silent for a while, and when you finally spoke up, your voice was soft and quiet. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he responded as he rolled closer to you.

The sadness he felt slipped away as soon as it came, because it was like he got under your spell the moment he got close enough to you. Your pretty eyes were following his every move, carefully watching him as you waited for whatever was to come.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind, to take a risk and see if you were willing to play this little game with him. So he raised his hand and curled his index finger to signal you to move over to him with a playful smile on his lips. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

To his surprise, you didn't hesitate to do as you were told, you stood up and sat in his lap with your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway for a kiss. The need for something more grew inside him as the kiss deepened, and a small part of his mind shifted its focus to your jumpsuit, trying to figure out the fastest way to get you out of it.

“I'm going home on Sunday. Come with me,” he suddenly spoke up, pulling away a little to look you in the eye. “Stay for a few days. Or a week or two,” he tried with a cheeky grin.

You leaned back to reach for your phone that you left on the desk, but he had his hands firmly on your bottom to keep you in place. “I can't reach my phone,” you said with a pout. “I can't tell you if I can go without it.”

With a sigh, he rolled the two of you closer to the desk so you could get it, but he didn't take his hands off of you. As you checked your calendar, humming every now and then, he couldn't help but start and place kisses in the crook of your neck.

“How about the week after that?” you asked him as you lowered your phone. “We have meetings with the CFO, an important meeting with a certain someone that I can't delay or skip, and I want to put together the team to test my new idea. Next week's pretty crowded.”

Max cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “If there's one thing we learned from Covid is that you can do these things online. Come on, I have fast and stable connection back home,” he tried with a smile.

“But you'll let me work,” you told him sternly, to which he only responded with a laugh before kissing you again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you know it.”

[vivwritesfics]

Mini Me

With how shitty my life is rn, I keep having these depressive episodes. Turns out my depressive episodes breed fluff

Max's six year old son has just started karting and his wife has to take him. Boy oh boy, does he miss his wife and son.

"So, Max, can we expect to see your little one around the paddock today?"

Ever since the day he was born, Fabian Verstappen had been seen with his parents around the Formula One paddock. He was always smiling and waving at those he knew and those he didn't. Fabian Verstappen was the happiest boy around.

Max was very proud of his boy. He showed him off to whoever he could. When he was young, he sat on Max's hip while he completed interviews and such.

Fabian was Max's number one supporter (Tied only by Max's wife and Fabians mother, Y/N. She followed him around the world three times before agreeing to marry him. It was a year long engagement, and in that time Y/N found out she was pregnant. They managed to keep it hidden until after their wedding, although Y/N did have to get a dress that better fit her bump).

There was a year between Fabian being born and him being able to attend his first race. Christian was happy to get him fitted out in Red bull Racing merchandise. He got his own little hat and a too large Red bull shirt with a thirty three on it (Max had lost that years championship. Red bull had won the constructors but Max had just missed out on the WDC. Red bull had worked out the kinks in the car and Max was bound to win this year, just as he had the previous year).

This year was the first year Fabian and Y/N weren't there to cheer Max on. And interviewers certainly picked up on it.

"Uh, no," Max answered when they asked about Fabian. "He and my wife are at a karting event right now."

The interviewer gave him a nod. "Following in your footsteps perhaps?"

Letting out a laugh, Max nodded his head. "We can only hope," he said.

"Do you think we'll be seeing him in a Red bull Racing suit in the next fifteen years?"

Again, Max nodded his head. "If he's anything like his dad, he'll be in a Red bull Racing suit before that," he said and adjusted the cap on his head.

Max left the interview and checked his phone. As much as he wanted Fabian and Y/N at his race, he knew how important karting was to his son.

Max has always been Fabian's hero. His first full sentence was 'I wanna be like daddy'. Max and Y/N did whatever they could to make Fabian's dream come true.

The one thing Fabian wanted but he couldn't have was to have his daddy at his karting races, watching him. There had been a lot of screaming and crying while Max and Y/N tried to explain to him why his father couldn't be there.

But Fabian had made friends at his Karting matches. He and the other kids he had raced against got along like peas in a pod. Fabian's first ever play date was with his karting friends. Some of them had been sat with their eyes and mouths wide open while Max brought them juice. They couldn't believe he, their hero and favourite driver, was Fabian's dad.

Max pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Nothing from his wife yet, but Fabian's race should have been done, he realised when he checked the time.

Dialling her number, Max pressed his phone to his ear.

It took Y/N a moment to pick up. "Hey handsome," she said in a chipper voice when she picked up the phone. Her voice was distant and slightly distorted, and Max realised she was in the car.

"Hello, Liefje. How's our little racer?" He asked her.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Came Fabian's voice. "I won! I won! I won!" He shouted.

Well, that answered Max's question. His cheeks were warm as he smiled, listening to his son. "Ik ben zo trots op je, mijn jongen. Ik kan niet wachten om jullie twee weer te zien!" (I'm so proud of you, my boy. I can't wait to see you too again!)

There was a moment before Fabian responded. He was fluent in English and French, but he was only good at Dutch. It still took him some time before he could work out what Max was saying and respond.

"Papa, ik... heb een... trofee." (Daddy, I got a trophy.)

There was a certain sense of joy that filled Max whenever Fabian answered him in Dutch. "Fabi, make sure mommy sends me a picture of your trophy," he said.

"I will do, Maxy," Y/N responded for the little boy. "Fabi, what do we say to papa?"

Again, Fabian was quiet for a moment. "Oh!" He suddenly cried from the back of the car. "Good luck with your race, Papa! Maybe you can win like me!"

The Verstappens laughed.

"Good luck, Max. Call me after you've won."

"I will, Liefje. I love you."

"I love you too."

Max hung up the phone after that. He his qualifying to get ready for. As he got ready, though, he spent the entire time thinking about his wife and son. He checked his phone constantly, waiting for Y/N to send over the picture of Fabian and his trophy.

No father had ever been prouder of his little boy than Max. Fabian was his everything and he couldn't wait to see him in the big leagues. Who knows, maybe Max would still be racing alongside him. Maybe he'd have Horner's job, team principle of Red bull Racing while his son raced as their number one driver.

No matter what, Max would always be Fabian's number one supporter.

[starlightdelrey]

the view between villages

platonic ! f1 grid x reader

summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.

cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,

song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan

(not based on any particular race)

today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.

"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."

the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.

she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.

"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.

"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.

"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.

---

"lights out.... and away we go!"

the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.

she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.

"i keep locking up."

her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.

"copy."

finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.

"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."

"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.

---

the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.

somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.

the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"

"yeah... turn up the volume?"

the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.

"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.

"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.

"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."

she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.

across the world, houses go silent.

---

"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."

the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.

"y/n, are you okay?"

silence.

"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."

no response.

the commentators continue.

"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."

---

his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.

"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.

"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.

"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"

"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."

"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"

"no word yet. sorry, logan."

"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."

"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"

"sure."

he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.

there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.

he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.

---

inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.

her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.

in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.

"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.

she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.

she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.

she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.

the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.

---

inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.

---

"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."

verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.

"what's happened?"

"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.

"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"

"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."

he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.

"tell me if you find anything out."

"copy."

as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.

"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.

he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.

he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.

---

a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.

"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.

and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.

and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.

she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.

---

the commentators are no longer focused on the race.

"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"

---

charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.

he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.

this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.

the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.

"we've got an update on y/n."

he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."

"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.

---

muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.

the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.

people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.

she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.

she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.

y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.

---

"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."

the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.

"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"

---

"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.

"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."

"how do you feel about her new nickname?"

"nickname?"

"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."

lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."

"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.

---

a few months later:

over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.

she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.

"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.

roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.

"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."

lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."

y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.

he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."

"fuck off."

--- la fin ---

[yxngbxkkie]

girl dad 🎀 (b.c)

i had seen a tik tok with chan and the twins, and how he's a girl dad 🥹 so, i had come up with this idea 🫢 i hope you guys like it 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

~

You've been sitting in your car for twenty minutes, trying to get yourself to stop crying. One hand covers your mouth, quieting your sobs while the other gently rubs your tiny baby bump. You're fourteen weeks pregnant, and you just found out what you and Chan are having.

Your phone vibrates in your vehicle's cup holder, seeing Chan's name on the screen. You wipe your tears and take a deep breath before answering his call.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, smiling to yourself.

“Hi, my baby,” Chan's voice makes your heart flutter. ���Have you made it to the studio yet? How did the appointment go? I'm sorry I couldn't go with you.”

You giggle and lean back against the seat, turning your head to look out the window. “It's okay, baby. I forgot you had a schedule this morning. It went well. I have another sonogram photo to show you,” you inform him on how it went, leaving out the part where you learned whether your baby’s a girl or a boy.

“That's good. I can't wait to see our bean,” he giggles into the receiver, making you giggle as well. “We're just about to start filming, so I wanted to let you know that you're free to come in. I gave your name to security.”

You turn your vehicle off, feeling yourself calmer after talking to your boyfriend. “Okay, baby. I just pulled in, so I'll be there in a few. I love you,” you smooch.

“I love you so much. As soon as I have a free moment, I'm kissing you,” he mentions, having missed his morning kisses due to both of you being busy.

You're walking towards the building, and you shake your head. “I'm not going to complain,” you laugh, bidding him goodbye.

You slip your phone into your back pocket, giving the guard your name. He lets you in without any trouble, thankfully, and you make your way towards the room they're recording in.

When you finally reach the place Chan and Felix are in, you notice that they've already started recording. You look through the window of the door, seeing your boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the floor with the twins in his lap.

Tears pool in your eyes as you gently rub your belly, thinking of how it'll be when she's born. “Is this what parent life will look like?” You ask no one in particular, taking a quick glance down at your barely noticeable bump.

You chew on your lip as you walk into the room, the squeals of the girls reaching your ears. Chan's eyes meet yours, and he smiles at you fondly.

You wave at him before crossing your arms over your chest. Felix and Chan's manager grabs a chair for you to sit in, knowing that you're pregnant. You thank Skijigi quietly and take a seat.

The recording didn't last much longer, the two boys having a snack with the twins before they headed out. You stay in your seat when Chan walks over to you, greeting you with a kiss.

“Have you been crying?” He asks, noticing the redness around your eyes. His fingertips gently stroke your skin, a frown etching onto his lips.

“I can't get anything past you, can I?” You chuckle, shaking your head. Chan shakes his head as well, looking around to see the staff slowly filtering out. “It's nothing bad, I promise.”

Your hand grabs his, intertwining your fingers together before squeezing his hand. “The baby's okay?” He asks, stroking the back of your hand.

“Yes, absolutely,” you tell him, standing up from your chair. You bring your conjoined hands to your stomach, letting him feel your bump. “She is doing fantastic.”

His head snaps up, a gasp leaving his plump lips. “She? We're having a girl?” Chan whispers, his hands moving to your waist. “Are we really having a baby girl?”

Tears pool in both of your eyes, and you nod your head, confirming. “We're gonna have a little girl,” you cry out, laughing as you do. “You're going to be such a wonderful girl dad.”

Your fingers stroke his cheek, smiling up at him as you wipe his tears. Chan's lip quivers, bringing you into his chest. “I can't believe we're gonna have a girl,” he sniffles, gliding his hands on your lower back. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You pull back enough to look at him, smiling softly. “I hope she has your smile and dimples,” you giggle, leaning on your toes to kiss his lips.

“I can't wait to tell the kids,” he laughs, pressing chaste kisses on your lips. “They were so convinced that we'll have a boy.”

You burst out laughing, combing your fingers through his hair. “Let's go prove them wrong,” you wink, pulling away from him completely. Chan swiftly grabs your hand as the two of you walk out of the room together.

“After we tell them you want to get dinner?” He asks, kissing the back of your conjoined hands.

Your heart flutters in your chest, nodding your head, yes. “I'd love to, baby,” you grin, leaning your head on his arm. “I love you.”

Chan kisses your head and squeezes your hand. “I love you, baby.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[strawberrysainz]

picture you. lando norris

“ a particularly lovely day spent in london with your beloved boyfriend. plus, you can’t get enough of each other. ”

lando norris x reader

a warning — smut. 18+! minors dni. crude language, alcohol consumption, mentions of food.

The first thing you could smell was the traitorous scent of a freshly-brewed coffee that morning. He was sitting at the little table that you had always thought never fit the overall aesthetic of the kitchen.

He was typing on a laptop when you entered. “Lando,” you murmured. He looked up, and even when trying to scold him, your heart skipped a beat when he pushed up those glasses that made him ridiculously good looking. “Hmm?”

“I thought we agreed to stop the coffees for a while, didn’t your trainer suggest it’s better for your nervous system…?” Suddenly you were shy. But the feeling soon dissipated when his mouth moved from sipping the drink to a smirk. “Babe.” You could tell he felt a little guilty, though, and he tried to hide it by looking back at his laptop.

You shook your head as you moved around him to look out the window. Early mornings in London were your favourite; it was the first time that he had come to stay at your place and not his during a break. You could hear the neighbour’s kids playing outside, revelling in their Saturday morning.

You turned to watch him crack his knuckles as he poured over what looked like a lengthy email. He started chatting about something and you sort of tuned out, watching him flex each finger. When he stretched out his hands, something made your stomach flutter.

The coffee did indeed smell good, and you ended up taking the mug from him, your fingertips brushing lightly. Even after months of knowing him, you still blushed like a kid when he looked at you. You took a sip and set it back down on the table.

“Are you hungry? I could make you-“

He was looking at you over the edge of his laptop.

You shook your head. “No thanks.” The thought of Lando Norris standing there in your kitchen making you eggs and toast was too much to bear.

He watched as you boosted yourself onto the kitchen counter. “You’re so funny,” he murmured and you shot him a look before pulling out your phone.

“I love the view out of the window.”

You looked up (as if it hadn’t been the background to your entire childhood) and looked at him, nodding. “The best view of the house,” you smiled.

“I don’t think so,” he was getting up to run a hand up your leg and you pushed him away, giggling. “You’re awful. What’s your plan for today?” You ask.

“Not much. Emails. Then gym at 4.”

You found yourself gazing at him again and zoned back in when he called your name again. “Sorry?” You blushed a little.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to do anything today if you’re not busy.”

“Oh.” You paused. “I wanted to go grocery shopping. But that’s probably boring for you.” You let out a little giggle at his face. He always looked so endearing when you thought you were being boring.

“Any Saturday spent with you is never boring.” He was giggling and you swatted his chest as you walked past. “Calm it.”

He grabbed you. “Hey,” he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist. You smiled at him. “Hey,” you replied softly. His lips pressed against yours and you melted a little. “Let’s go do your boring grocery shopping,” he joked and picked up the car keys. You ran to change out of your pajamas.

⛲️💫🍵🏹

You put on an Otis Redding album, murmuring along before you were at the local Tesco. You picked up a basket and he linked his arm through yours.

As Lando was checking through the different options of sugar-free peanut butter, you got on your tiptoes to pick the jar of crunchy peanut butter off the shelf. His hand rested on your lower back as he reached for it.

⛲️💫🍵🏹

You were curled up on the couch as he kept on sighing with the emails. You paused your TikTok scrolling. “What’s up?”

“These people are fucking crazy.” He sighed and shut it closed.

You laughed and he did too. He wrapped his arms around you. You could hear the dog barking next door.

“Have I ever told you…” he began kissing your cheek. He was kissing your neck now and you were curling into his touch. “Hmm?” You said, absentmindedly, and he laughed against your neck. “Stop zoning out.”

“I can’t help it!” You protested. “You make my mind go blank when you start looking at me like that.”

He took that as a very big compliment and started pulling you into his lap.

You were interrupted by a knock on the door and you pulled back, staring at him quizzically.

“Fuck. Nutritionist.”

You flicked his ear and laughed when he pulled you up from the couch and kissed you deeply. You pushed him away.

⛲️💫🍵🏹

A few hours later, you were standing in the bar with him and sniffling along to the singer. He was singing along, quietly, like everyone else with a beer in hand, and he was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders. Two friends had invited you last minute and you had ditched the night in to come and support this upcoming band.

“Love you,” he whispered and you leaned up to kiss him.

The singer pointed at the two of you and you both smiled wide.

⛲️💫🍵🏹

In the car on the way home, you pointed out the lipstick that stained the top of the collar of his shirt. He grinned.

⛲️💫🍵🏹

He was pushing you against the wall and you were protesting, making him lock the front door and take you out of view from the glass panel. Rain was beginning to patter against the windows and you shivered deliciously as he ran a hand up your shirt.

“Can I make it up to you for this afternoon?” He murmured, head burying into your neck, and you were muttering something stupid, nodding, and his hand was running under your skirt and he grasped the lacy edge of your underwear on your hip, his hands warm and his heart beating fast.

His lips were pressing against yours and your bodies were moving fluidly, in sync, his touch earth-shattering.

Leading you to your bedroom, he pushed you back against the sheets, your hair fanning out, contrasting the crisp white.

Sliding off your skirt and your underwear, his eyes were dark, a cheeky grin on his face before his lips pressed against your lower stomach, then to your thighs, and the cocktails were making you grip his hair and shove his face in between your legs. He moaned at the rough action, and your heart dropped hearing the vibration against your pussy.

“Pretty,” he murmured before he was groaning about how wet you were and you might have been on fire the way his tongue was moving.

“Just… there.” You gasped and whimpered and you were on the edge of the precipice before he was gone, and you took a deep breath, prepared to beg.

He moved up again and he was kissing you; you could taste yourself on his tongue and you were helping him take off his jeans, and his underwear, and you took his hard cock in your hands, swiping at your pussy before grasping him, up and down. When he felt your arousal on his cock he let out a loud moan, and you wanted him so desperately you might have sacrificed anything.

“Baby,” you murmured, and his hips were moving before you went let go and get on your knees; he was moving you into his lap and he met your entrance. You moaned, and he was bouncing you up and down on his cock.

“Oh, you feel so good,” he sighed, and you were agreeing loudly before you felt that familiar tightness in your stomach and you were all open mouths and whispering wildly dirty things before he was murmuring for you to come and you obliged, falling apart on top of him as his finger went to meet your clit, and you wriggled with nearly too much pleasure. Then his breath was faltering, and his hips were slowing, and you felt him come inside you, moaning into his ear as his big hands gripped your shoulders.

He kissed you, pulling you into him. “Love you, baby.” He whispered, and you were giggling, out of breath.

⛲️💫🍵🏹

The coffee machine was the first thing you went for the next morning, and as he appeared in the doorway of the homely kitchen with a stupid little look of strictness on his face you laughed out loud, offering him his cappuccino, a peace offering.

hope you enjoyed ⚡️❤️‍🔥🙏 please like, comment and reblog!!! soooo appreciated.

masterlist

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve. 

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face. 

It was one of his own. 

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion. 

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.  

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over. 

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue. 

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm. 

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion. 

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.

[authorhjk1]

dont you think Haewon deserves to get absolutely destroyed in her childhood room while her parents are downstairs

Marking

(Oh Haewon X Male Reader)

"I don't really get, why you had to come too. It's not like you're my boyfriend."

"I'm not. Lucky me."

You feel Haewon's elbow in your ribs.

"Hey, I'm driving!"

"So what?"

You send her an angry glare, before looking back ahead, focusing on the traffic.

The two of you are on your way to Haewon's parents. They are celebrating their anniversary today. A special one. 25 years. And the both of you are invited. Haewon for obvious reasons and you because you know her father. You only found out after your shenanigans at her place after your breakup. You saw a picture of him on her fridge while you left. And it turns out, he is your boss.

Well, not exactly. He is the head of the marketing team at the company you're working at. You are in a different department. He still has the higher position though. The two of you had to work together occasionally and, despite the age difference, you got along very well. That was, until you started to fuck his daughter's brains out every chance you got.

"We are here."

The two of you get out of the car. While Haewon walks towards the door, you get her stuff and trail after her. She didn't have time to change into her dress yet.

"Mom, dad!"

Haewon greets them and you shake the pair's hands afterwards. Luckily, her father knows that your ex girlfriend Sullyoon is his daughter's best friend. So it's not that weird that the two of you know each other. But it might have been a little suspicious for the two of you to arrive in the same car.

"Please come in. We have prepared lunch already."

"Thank you."

You smile at them, but you can't help but feel guilty. You doubt that they know what you have been doing to their beloved daughter every single day for the past couple of weeks.

"Haewon, go upstairs and get changed. After we are finished eating, we are driving to the party."

"Please, Mr. Oh. Let me drive. The two of you should just relax today."

"Thank you so much, dear."

Haewon's mom accepts your offer with a big smile.

"Too bad that Sullyoon found you, before our daughter did."

"Mom!"

Haewon's cheeks turn red in embarrassment as her mom teases her.

"She is coming too today, why is she not here?"

You glance at Haewon upon hearing her dad's question. Seems like she hasn't told them yet. Maybe to have an excuse for the two of you to keeps seeing each other.

"Well, she... She is very busy with work these days. She told me to pick Haewon up and drive her here. She will catch up with us at the party."

Not your finest moment, but you don't want to call Haewon a liar in front of her parents.

Come upstairs

You stare at the message on your phone. What the hell, Haewon? You know what she wants from you. But this is her parents house. Her father is sitting two meters away from you. How could you...

If you come upstairs now, I'll admit it.

You scoff in disbelief. This has been going on for weeks and now, Haewon wants to admit that she is a whore? A little late in your opinion. But then again, hearing it from her own mouth, while she cums on your cock...

The picture in your head makes you get off the couch.

"Haewon texted me. She needs help with her dress."

You explain yourself without even thinking about your words. It's surprising to see how fast your blood can rush from your brain to your cock, just by thinking of Haewon's desperate moans and whines.

"Sure. Go ahead"

You're glad her father doesn't seem to catch on as you climb the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

You barge into Haewon's childhood room. She stands in the middle. Naked.

"Took you longer than I expected."

You slowly tear your eyes off her naked frame and scan the room. A bed, a desk, a wardrobe. Nothing special. Her walls are decorated with her paintings though. She was definitely not very old, when she made them. They look like ones from six year olds. But still not bad. Your eyes land on the wax crayons, which are lined up by color, lying on her desk. But the nude woman in front of you quickly brings back your attention on her.

Haewon steps forward, her arms wrapping around your neck.

"Fuck me and I confess."

You roll your eyes.

"I'm not falling for that again."

"It's not a joke this time."

Haewon gives you grin.

"Admit it first. Then I fuck you."

This is how your 'relationship' started out anyways. Haewon broke you and Sullyoon up and just wouldn't admit that she did it, because she wanted you. Because she is a slut.

"No. Wrong order."

Haewon gives you another teasing grin.

"Fine."

You give in, knowing that, except for fucking it out of her, there is not much you can do about it anyway.

The two of you quickly engage in a heated kiss, warming each other up. Not that Haewon needs much of that. You can tell by how her core rubs against your thigh.

"If you want me to fuck you good, you better start sucking."

You whisper into her mouth, while slightly pulling away.

"You are not too big of a whore yet to take all of it without lube."

Haewon bites your lip, the pain makes you flinch.

"You just want to see me choke on it again."

Without a word, you grab her shoulders and push her down.

"Not that I'm complaining."

A devilish grin appears on her otherwise innocent face.

Haewon starts out slow by just putting the tip into her mouth. She lets her tongue swirl around it, while both her hands wrap around your cock.

Her blowjob is everything but slow and sensual though, once she gets into it. Like a hungry animal, Haewon starts to engulf your cock. You're reminded of this morning. That's how your day started.

Her hands quickly stroke you, while her head bobs up and down. Her eyes look up at you, almost mocking your inability to keep standing still. You can't help it. You have to hold onto something, or you'll fall. The only thing in sight, as usual, is Haewon's head.

You place one of your hands on top of it. Haewon immediately stops. Her eyes tell you to use her. Her eyes tell you that she is a whore. But her mouth still doesn't. To be fair, it's full with cock right now. But you make a silent promise to yourself. Within the next twenty minutes, Haewon will be calling herself a whore, while she begs for more.

You slowly pull her back onto your cock. Only halfway though. It doesn't make her choke, but you can already hear her breathing through her nose. You loosen your grip, Haewon's lips glide along your length, until they reach your tip. A moment to let her take one last breath.

A second later, Haewon chokes hard. Your cock is blocking her airflow. It's entirety is stuffed down her throat. Her nose is pressed against your abdomen. You hold her in place.

One second

Two seconds

Three seconds

Four seconds

Five seconds

Haewon's eyes give you a silent challenge. Every fiber of her being tells you that she is a whore. Why can't her mouth do the same?

Five seconds turn into ten seconds.

Spit starts to leak out of the corners of her mouth.

Ten seconds turn into fifteen seconds.

Haewon's eyes become wider as she realizes that you don't intend to let go anytime soon.

Fifteen seconds turn into twenty seconds.

Her nostrils flare as Haewon's breathing becomes heavier, faster.

Twenty seconds turn into twenty five seconds.

Her drool now falls off her chin in the form of long strings.

Just as you reach thirty seconds, you let go.

Haewon falls off your cock. Her mouth still hanging open as she backs away. She tries to catch her breath, her naked chest heaving heavily.

"I will wait for your confession, once you're done with surviving."

You give her smug grin.

Haewon doesn't have the energy to reply. The lack of oxygen is still visible.

"Or are you in for round two?"

This time, Haewon shakes her head.

"But you're not gonna confess what a whore you are?"

She shakes her head again.

You groan.

"Fine. But I will not be leaving this room, until your whole body screams whore."

You take a step closer towards her desk.

"And I know just the right way to start."

After grabbing the red wax crayon, you turn back around. Haewon's eyes are slowly wandering towards your hand.

"I hope this washes off easily. For your sake."

Haewon barely has time to open her mouth, before you're already towering over her. Taking a fistful of her short hair, you make her turn her head.

The young woman feels the cold crayon on her cheek. You stain her gorgeous face. Her skin senses your handwriting. The swing of the letter S. A straight line down, one to the right. An L. Another swing U. Two more lines form a T.

You let go of Haewon's hair, letting her head return to its original place. You lean back, taking in your work.

She glares at you. Her cheek is covered with red wax. The word 'slut' seems to glow on her otherwise flawless skin.

"Well, slut..."

The word slowly drips off your tongue with such a degrading undertone.

"Let's fuck that confession out of you."

You lift Haewon off the floor and place her on her windowsill. She shivers as the cold glass makes contact with her back.

"So much space for me to write on."

You whisper as your free hand wanders all over her front.

"You wouldn't dare."

You raise an eyebrow.

"I already did, slut."

You step closer, parting her legs in the process. Your faces only inches away, the tip of your cock now resting on her wet pussy lips.

"And I will cover your entire body."

You immediately start to fulfill that promise. Haewon weakly tries to push your hand away, but you hold her wrists with one hand. You place the tip of the wax crayon right between her tits and her collarbone. You slowly read the words as you write them on her skin.

"Sex toy."

Haewon closes her eyes. She shivers again. You are sure it's not because of the glass.

"Do you want another one?"

She shakes her head and shoots you an evil glare. Her lips are pressed together, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of begging you to stop.

"Suit yourself."

This time, you place the crayon right above her pussy. Her smoothly shaven skin becomes your canvas. You don't read the word out loud, this time.

It takes her moment, since Haewon has to read it upside down.

"Owned"

Just as she understands its meaning, you're already past her lips.

"Ngh! Please!"

A loud whine escapes her mouth as she feels your tip inside of her. Your cock starts to stretch her out as you slowly push forward.

"From now on, whenever you deny being a whore, I'll ruin your body further."

Just as you say that, you are just as deep as Haewon can take it. She starts to take heavy breaths again. Her eyes are glued to the part of your cock that's still not inside her.

"Are you a whore?"

You sigh, knowing full well that she won't agree yet. Haewon shakes her head.

You place the crayon on her left shoulder.

"Bitch"

You focus on fucking her now. Being inside of Haewon doesn't allow you to properly focus on humiliating her. You need to blow off some steam first. And what is better for that than Haewon's snug hole?

You start to screw Haewon into the window behind her. Her back is pressed flat against it. Her legs are spread wide, dangling off the windowsill. One of your hands holds onto her waist while the other is loosely placed on her thigh, still holding the crayon.

Haewon's moans fill the room she has grown up in. All those memories of her childhood are now stained by this experience. They are worthless. All that matters now, is that she is a whore. Slowly, Haewon's own mind comes to that conclusion. So slow, she almost doesn't realize it.

Your pounding makes her slowly lose her mind. Her moans increase in volume. Her whines reach a higher pitch.

"Again, are you a whore?"

This time, you catch her hesitate. But then, Haewon shakes her head again.

Her eyes are barely able to follow the crayon as you slow down your thrusts only a little. Just enough, so you can properly write. Her skin just above her navel is now showing off a marking as well.

"Cocksleeve"

Haewon doesn't have time to read the second half as you pick up the pace again.

"Oh, god!"

Her head leans against the glass behind her. Her back arches, her chest gets pushed towards you. Instead of leaning in and sucking on her tits, you reach forward with your free hand.

"Aaah!"

Haewon let's out a loud cry as you pinch her nipple. And the other one. Another scream.

"S-Stop. It hurts."

She whines, but you both know that that's not her safeword.

"Tell me, if you want me to be gentle. Are you a whore?"

"No!"

She gives you a determined glare. An angry pout.

Once again her crayon finds her skin.

This time, you write on both her tits.

"Free"

"Use"

Haewon looks down, barely manages to read it, and lets out another moan.

"So you do like it rough? Thought so."

You let the wax crayon fall onto the windowsill. Hooking your arms under her legs, you pull her towards you.

"Oh, fuck!"

Her cry can be heard throughout the whole house. You're sure of it. You're buried balls deep inside her cunt. Your thrusts are harder now. You go as fast as possible, not wanting to give her a split second to breath. Her eyes, once locked on yours, are now rolling to the back of her head. Haewon's mouth hangs open in a silent moan.

"Are you a whore?"

This time, Haewon doesn't even respond. Maybe she didn't hear you. Who cares?

You let one leg fall down to reach for the crayon. Another two words are added to the others.

"Sex object"

Between her collarbone and her throat.

Haewon feels you, marking her again. But an overwhelming heat rushes through her body in an alarming pace. It starts out inside her pussy. Right around your cock. It travels through her core. Through her abdomen and her organs. Past her tits. Through her throat. Until it finally reaches her brain. And her mouth.

"Oh holy fuck!"

Haewon cums hard. You start to produce squishing sounds as you keep stuffing Haewon's wet pussy with your cock. Her hands search for your body, trying to push you away. Her legs quiver and shake, before they wrap around you, trapping you in place.

"N-No more."

She weakly sighs, once she has started to calm down.

"I haven't heard the magic word from you yet.

"Haewon, honey! Are you alright? The clock is ticking!"

Misses Oh's voice makes you both look at the door. Luckily, it sounded like it was coming from downstairs.

"In a minute."

Haewon's voice cracks in the middle of her sentence.

"Maybe we should open that door and let them hear you."

"Whore!"

You're surprised at how quickly Haewon blurts out that word.

"I'm a whore! I admit it."

She looks down, very aware that your still inside of her.

"I know. "

You lean forward and kiss her forehead.

"Was it that hard?"

Haewon timidly shakes her head.

Her eyes widen when you raise the crayon again.

"W-Wait what are you doing?"

"Hold still."

"But-"

"I feel like your confession isn't coming from a genuine place, you know? Plus, I need to mark the spot, where I want to cum."

Haewon gulps, but stays silent and doesn't move.

You start on her right cheek. Three words. You keep going, even when you reach her nose. Once you are on the other side of her face, you finish the line. The last letter is placed right next to the first word you wrote on her. The new words cover her whole face. From right to left.

"Cum hungry slut"

You don't tell her what you wrote.

"Knees."

Haewon follows your order and you're back to where you started. It doesn't take long for her to bring you to the edge from there. A nice, quick blowjob. Her hands massaging your cock. Her tongue lapping her own juices off of you.

"Damn, Haewon."

You grunt, which makes her look up at you with those big eyes.

She points your cock at her own face, strokes you two more times and then makes you orgasm. You explode right above her face, covering it with your cum. Her nose, her cheeks, her lips. All of it is ruined by your seed. And the rest of her body is marked with red wax.

"Write it down."

You nod towards her desk.

Haewon understands. She doesn't even get off the ground. She crawls the short distance, reaches up and grabs a piece of paper and the black crayon. You enjoy the view of her ass, before she turns back around. She writes one word.

"WHORE"

When she looks up again, you're already holding your phone in your hand, the camera ready.

Haewon holds up her self made sign.

"A little lower."

You make sure that every single mark you left on her body is clearly visible. Your cum is still staining her face as well.

"What a whore you are."

You chuckle as you snap a couple of pictures.

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

Hi everybody!

Hope you enjoyed this one. This chapter is gonna be the last of of this small series. So there won't be any follow up fics.

Stay healthy!

[lewisvinga]

my shot | alex albon x fem! reader x lily muni he

summary; after admitting in an interview about their crush on a certain youtuber, alex and lily decide to shoot their shot through instagram

fc; tara yummy

warnings; ?? none i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! i’m obsessed w tara yummy rn

masterlist !

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: let’s go to the beach each

username: the shirt 😭😭😭

username: i just know y/n was struggling in the 5 ft end

yourusername: i was , i suck at swimming 🤕🤕

lilymhe: crazy i know how to swim !

username: lily what are u doing here 😭😭

username: the last picture is so cunty i love it

username: she’s so queen

username: not lily and alex in the likes 😭

alex_albon: let’s go get a wave

yourusername: they say what they gonna say

alex_albon: have a drink, clink, found a bud light

yourusername: bad bitches like me are hard to come by

lilymhe: you are the baddest bitch

username: this comment thread ???😭😭

username: alex albon’s attempt at flirting it just singing nicki minaj

username: he has a gf tho

username: you can’t tell me they both aren’t in love w her…

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; last few days here 😴] [caption 2; tanning bc i can’t swim]

lilymhe replied to your story !

lilymhe so you really can’t swim?

yourusername lol i suck at it, i always use floaties when i’m in the pool & i refuse to go in the ocean😭

lilymhe maybe if we happen to be in the same place , i can teach you😁😁

yourusername you just wanna see me in a bikini don’t you🥴

lilymhe i mean yes. deleted !

lilymhe just helping a girl out and shooting my shot?😁😁

yourusername ur cute

lilymhe and i think ur cuter

yourusername you and….

lilymhe alex and i think you’re cute 😁

yourusername: i’ll be at the miami gp btw, maybe you both can teach me how to swim😌

lilymhe oh, we’re ready, pretty girl

alex_albon replied to your story !

alex_albon heyyyy[100% rizz]

yourusername: oh your girlfriend is much better at this than you are

alex_albon i’m trying 😔

alex_albon but i managed to pull her anyways 🤓

yourusername you’re a dork but it’s cute🤕

alex_albon so me shooting my shot is working?😁😁

yourusername oh 100%

alex_albon a little birdie told me you’re going to the miami gp?

yourusername yeah, might be dressed in ferrari red

alex_albon why not williams blue? you should come to our garage instead 😁

yourusername hmmm u gotta convince me, pretty boy 🧐

alex_albon well, lily and i will be there , isn’t that enough?

yourusername you’re right ,

yourusername i’ll see you in the williams garage then, pretty boy😇

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: i like to see cars racing now i guess

tagged; lilymhe, alex_albon, williamsracing

williamsracing: the cuntiest guest in our garage

yourusername: why thank u admin

lilymhe: ugh you’re gorgeous 😩

yourusername: hello?? you’re the most gorgeous 🥴🥴

lilymhe: in my f1 driver era liked by yourusername !

alex_albon: i feel so special knowing i had the 2 prettiest girls ever rooting for me

yourusername: you’re a dork but i’ll cheer for u every race 🤓

username: OMG HELLO😀

username: my fave youtuber and f1?? i’m so??

username: alex lily n y/n are acting very suspicious…….🧐🧐🧐

username: i just wanna know how this all happened

username: imagine lily and alex sliding into her dms 😭😭😭

username: they’re just like me fr

username: i gotta be REAL honest w y’all, they’d look hot asf as a throuple

username: oomf are u insane

username: look at oomf dawg😭😭😭

username: no i get it

[everythingne]

home is where the heart is (ls2)

a phone call from your overseas husband interrupts your grocery trip. fortunately, a little bit of florida sun takes the blues away. (requested anonymously, thank you, darling!)

smau/short fic / logan sargeant x wife!reader (no face claim)

warnings/notes: hurt/comfort, logan leaving williams, i once again bring indycar into my fics bc ofc i do. im manifesting logan and alex teammates at prema next season wdym.

Kyle Kirkwood calling you in the middle of the day is not what you're expecting. You pause in the middle of the Publix, a list of groceries in hand, and fumble in your purse to pull out your phone. The screen showing his name, under it a photo of Logan and Kyle drunkenly floating around your pool over the summer break.

There's a bit of hesitance, and you press the green answer button and pull the phone to your ear with a soft, "Hello?"

"I'm going to kill that British fucker." Is Kyle's first sentence, followed by, "Shit, has Logan called you yet?"

"Not today, why?" You tentatively ask and there's dead silence on the phone before a string of expletives that fly out of Floridian's mouth so quickly you nearly miss his hurried plea for you to call your fiance and the rushed, "so help me God, I need a companion to the fight to the Netherlands."

You end the call after those words, hand tight around the shopping carts handle. You had all your items, right? Not that it mattered if something had happened to Logan overseas and you weren't there. In a bit of a rush, you move to the checkout, tossing your list in you bag and grabbing your wallet. The line feels like it takes years, and the second you've pretty much thrown the bags into the back of the car you are slamming the drivers door and turning on the car as your phone syncs to the cars Bluetooth.

Logan doesn't answer.

It's to be expected. You think. He's busy, he's racing, in meetings and doing media, with little videos you have saved on your phone for when you miss him and need a quick laugh at his and Alex's banter. Usually you'd leave it, but something in Kyle's voice urged you to try again.

Someone picks up on the fifth ring.

"Yn." Benny's voice comes through, soothing you just enough even as you hear the trepidation in his own voice, "Is everything okay?"

"Is Logan okay?" You breathlessly ask, "Kyle called me and said he needed me to call Logan, did something happen?"

"We're almost back to the hotel." Benny says ad you think 'No. That can't be right, it's mid quali, but Benny cuts you off, "When we get up to his room, I'll have him call you."

"Ben, is he okay?" You strain your voice and theres a hesitance, before he sighs.

"It's not gonna be sunshine and rainbows for a bit. But he'll be alright."

Your heart sinks. And you and Benny exchange rushed goodbyes before you practically race home. Every second feels like an hour as you get home, load the groceries into their respective spots, and grab a bag of chips to stress eat while you wait for Logan's call.

And then it happens, and you can barely scramble to grab your phone fast enough to answer it with a sharp, "Logan?"

"Hey." His voice is soft. He's always been soft, choosing his words carefully and keeping back from conversations. Sure, over the years you'd known him, you'd picked his hard exterior apart for the much preferred soft side he showed you. But the walls werte back up now.

"What happened, baby?" You roll to the side, laying in the sun that warms you on the couch, knowing whatever he says next is not going to be what you want to hear.

"It's over." He sighs, "I'm done."

There's a pause where you try to figure out what he means, before your breath catches. As if he hears it, you hear him let out a void laugh.

"But I thought James said.."

"Doesn't matter what he said before, Zandvoorts my last race. He confirmed it with me this morning when we went in. I knew... he was thinking about it... but he had to wait because Red Bull wouldn't give up Liam. But I guess he found a way."

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."

"No one's gonna know untul next week. Well, excpet for you and Kyle I guess. Because Kyle called me right after it happened and I just kinda... lost it on him."

"Kyle understands. You guys have been talking about how rough this season has been." Rolling onto your back, you let out a huff. "Oh. I wish I could be there with you."

"I'm coming right home after this. I'm not even sticking around after the race." Logan's voice softens, "I just need to see you."

"I'll be here." You smile, despite wanting to cry for your husband, "I always will be."

It's so late when Logan pulls up to the house. You've been anxiously pacing the length of the backyard for close to six hours now, sure your neighbors have finally realized you've gone a bit crazy. You hear the rumble of his engine and pause, quickly moving to slide open the back door, shutting it quickly as to not allow too many bugs or critters inside. You rush through the house, and throw open the front door to your fiance, your future husband, looking up at you.

"Hey." You whisper, but he doesn't respond. Just props his suitcase against the wall of the entryway and leans into your awaiting arms. HIs arms wrap firmly around you, hands digging into the Miami Dolphins hoodie of his that you'd been wearing all weekend, his face hidden in the crook of your neck as he just breathes in. There's no words that need to be said. The end had sort of been inevitable. Logan had hardly enjoyed his summer break, anxious that james would call any moment, and the chance to start the second leg of the season felt like good luck.

Why didn't James just do it over the break? You couldn't rationalize the answer in your head. And now your poor fiance spent two days traveling alone, and he was tired and a little gross from being on planes and flying across continents.

But now he was home, in Florida, with family set to come over tomorrow night. Giving you both time to just... exist.

"I made pasta." You murmur against the side of his head, and he leans back enough for a small kiss, "And it's with that sauce your mom makes. She wanted to be here but I figured you'd want a quiet house."

"Yeah." Logan just hums in response, arms loose around your waist, he gives you a small sigh then a peck on the nose, "Thank you, baby."

"Of course. Come on, go in and eat, it's in the microwave. I'll throw your wash in and then we can watch like... Friends or The Good Place or something."

Logan smiles, though it's nothing close to the big smiles you're used to from him. He takes your lead, following you inside, before parting in the foyer. Maybe thirty or so minutes later you recoup in the master bedroom, both in fresh pajamas, ready to curl up together when Logan just moves to basically tackle you into the bed. Your laughter rings out in the quiet home, causing the head of your sleepy golden retriever to lift from where she's been cuddled against Logan's leg since he returned.

"I have time for you to teach me to surf now." He murmurs against your collarbone from where he lays on top of you, only popping up momentarily to allow you to scoot under the covers.

"Tomorrow." You whisper to him with a tiny smile, his arms wrapping around you like a warm blanket, "We can go tomorrow."

liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri, kylekirkwood, and others...

logansargeant: sunrise with you

tagged: yourusername

COMMENTS HAVE BEEN LIMITED ON THIS POST.

kylekirkwood: oh so now ur 'soft launching' when you've secured her?

⤷ yourusername: ky he knows im just so irresistible he had to... ensure.. 💍

logansargeant: is this why you both are giggling at your phones?

⤷ yourusername: shhh go back to playing pong with dalton

⤷ daltonsargeant: he's losing at pong mini sarge

⤷ kylekirkwood: hes lost the frat energy. too much time in england.

⤷ yourusername: another thing james vowles stole from logan

alexalbon: eyy finally

⤷ yourusername: this is bad for you, now i can publically flirt with @ lilymhe

⤷ lilymhe: the only homewrecking ill allow is you bbg

⤷ alexalbon: @ logansargeant ?? help ??

⤷ logansargeant: good luck mate

oscarpiastri: feels good to be home?

⤷ logansargeant: you know it. see u in oct.

⤷ oscarpiastri: cant wait 👍🏻

liked by kylekirkwood, daltonsargeant, and others...

yourusername: hometown healing my (future) husband <3

tagged: logansargeant

user: YES HER ACC IS PUBLIC??

user1: omg the PUPPPYYY

⤷ yourusername: her name is sanibel and she's my 'hand me down dog', my parents can't keep up with her wild energy, so i adopted her from them !

kylekirkwood: ur never letting him cut his hair short or style it again

⤷ yourusername: kyle HE LOOKS SO HOT WITH LONG HAIR.

user2: LOGAN LOOKS SO HAPPY SOBS

user3: AWWWW IM SO HAPPY HER ACC IS PUBLICCC!!

user4: WAIT FUTURE HUSBAND?

lilymhe: engagement era has u both glowing

⤷ yourusername: ur next... @ alexalbon

⤷ alexalbon: dont RUSH ME BITCH?

logansargeant: love uuuu

⤷ daltonsargeant: be squisher

⤷ logansargeant: i love you so much you are the best thignt hats ever happened to me you're so amaazingggg

⤷ yourusername: dalton its four pm why are you two drinking already

⤷ daltonsargeant: brother healing time

user5: finally we can get ALL the logan content

liked by alexlalbon, logansargeant, kylekirkwood, and others...

yourusername: bc the twt girlies think i have a whole boulder. happy one yr six months engagment to us ig :)

kylekirkwood: your hand must hurt from lugging that boulder around

user: STOP THE PICS ARE SO CUTEEEE WAAHH

user2: logan rlly did cash that first williams check huh?

alexalbon: logan rlly set a high standard

coltonherta: god DAMN

lilyzneimer: i remember the like three days up to him proposing, just him and oscar sending like PARAGRAPHS back and forth ab what he was gonna say

⤷ yourusername: did I ever tell you guys he just kinda blanked and said "i think i'll like die or something if you dont marry me"

⤷ user3:OH MY GODD AHAHAH

logansargeant: not my proudest moment tbh but it worked

⤷ yourusername: my cringefail husband <3

oscarpiastri: when is the wedding

⤷ yourusername: whenever this bitch solidifies his contract so i can schedule one between all the different race schedules

⤷ user4: DIFFERENT? race schedules?

⤷ yourusername: babes. im not letting logan touch f1 again for another few years. I missed my husband.

⤷ alexrossi: join the dark side that is indycar

⤷ logansargeant: dont tempt me

⤷ premaracing: both of you get off of instagram we are in a meeting??

⤷ yourusername: LMAOOO

general tag list (open!)

@d3kstar

[klausysworld]

can u write something about damon just being soft and whipped for his girl. just need a damon fluffy fic rn 😩😩

Everything to him

Damon stood with his arms around his girl’s waist as she finished her makeup in the mirror. His chin on top her head as he watched as she layered the romantic red lipstick onto her soft plump lips. He could only hope to have their prints all over him by later that night as she looked herself over.

“You look perfect” he mumbled when she frowned a little and tilted her head. “There’s absolutely nothing I would change, in fact although the makeup has you looking all this much sexier, even without you wear the face of an angel” he purred seeing her lips lift into a smile and her head turn to look at him.

“I’d say flattery gets you no where but it seems to have gotten you rather far as of now” she lifted her arms over his head and round his neck while batting her lashes as him. He pulled her closer so his lips ghosted hers and his eyes dropped at the feeling of her fingers in his hair.

“I only tell the truth to you” he whispered gravelly and she hummed in reply, scratching at his head slowly knowing how it affected him. His eyes shut and pressed his forehead to hers “god I love you” he muttered and her smile grew

“I love you Damon Salvatore” she grinned and he tilted his head slightly to have his lips against hers. He allowed her to take the lead, moving her mouth against his and Brighton’s her other hand up to cup his face as both his hands slid up her back to hold the tops of her arms.

“You’re going to ruin my hair” he muttered and she laughed lightly against his lips before pulling back to look at him, her fingers running through each lock

“I like it messy” she decided before brushing it through with her hands and positioning it in a way that she found suited him best. His eyes glossed over as he watched her loving smile and felt her gentle touches. Her fingertips dances down the back of his neck and round to the front before she adjusted his leather, pulling it tighter on him and wetting her painted lips. Her palms smoothed down his chest, her deep red nails dragging down his black t-shirt before pulling up the hem only to groan at his display of abs. Her thumb tracing his happy trail and stopping at the top of his low-hanging jeans. Her fingers skimming over his belt in a teasing manner.

“Y/n…” he muttered feeling his body getting aroused by her actions “we have a reservation”he reminded, a breath of air leaving him as her hand cupped his crotch through his trousers “baby…” he whispered “you can almost never get a table there”

She sighed and gave him a light squeeze, listened to him grunt and then fixed his shirt and stepped back admiring him “okay…but after…” she pouted and he nodded eagerly

“After you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

She bit her bottom lip gently and held her hand out which he quickly took with a lustful smirk in place.

He kept a hand in hers the whole drive there, only breaking the hold for a second as they got out the car before an arm was back round her hips. She smoothed her cherry coloured dress down, adjusting it to rest a little lower on her thighs as it had ridden up in the car. His gaze dropped to her heels which make a distinct ‘click’ with each step she took. His eyes followed back up her gorgeous legs, along her beautiful figure and back to her face. Watching as she spoke to the waiter at the front who was finding their reservation in the system with a bashful blush on his cheeks as she flashed her pearly white teeth. Damon knew how easy it was to get lost in her charm.

He was barely aware of the world around them as he followed her to their table by the window, overlooking the sunset which was already meeting the stary night sky. Menus were slipped into both their hands and wine glasses filled as though the staff just knew what they would order.

She looked to him with admiration in her eyes and his lips curled up “I can’t believe you managed to book us in here” she whispered and he smiled back

“I can’t believe you almost had us miss our time slot, we only just made it”

“I’m sure I would’ve made up for it”

his mouth formed a lip lifted grin in response and he glanced down to his wine glass “I don’t doubt that, not for even a second” he muttered under his breath and she offered him another award winning smile which consequently brought his own upon his lips.

Her foot slipped out of her heel to leisurely brush along his leg as their food came and they engaged in pointless yet meaningful conversation and ate their meals. And for one of those rare moments, he felt like he was human again. He felt no urges, no lust for blood or chaos, he was calm. Happy.

He loved Y/n in ways he had never explored. Ways he wasn’t sure how to but he did them regardless and if he was doing it wrong, she didn’t tell him. She just helped him feel it, she chose him first and loved him and solely him and it was all he had ever wanted. All he had ever needed.

His mind often wondered at times like this, just listening to her voice and watching her lips move, and then the way her eyes would shine under the light and her hair would bounce over her shoulders as she waved her hands around in unnecessary gestures.

He knew he was smiling like a teenage boy with a crush but he couldn’t help it, even when she stopped talking and just grinned back at him knowingly. Her hand finding his and squeezing gently as their desserts were placed before them.

“If you’d like…we could skip dessert” Damon whispered suggestively making her smile

“Oh but then we’d have wasted our reservation” she sighed and leaned back in her seat, digging into her sweet dish and watching his eyes darken over slightly before he looked down to his food and begrudgingly ate the heavenly portion.

By the time they had both finished, paid and gotten to the door, a horrific amount of rain was bouncing off the ground.

Y/n turned her head to him before swiping the car keys from his hand and dashing for car making him let out a laugh and chase after her, completely forgetting his vampire abilities and just managing to get into the car before she locked it. Both of them looked at each other with large smiles on their faces before each bursting into fits of laughed and flicking their hands at one another to throw rain-water on their faces.

Eventually they got home and Damon had he run his arms, spinning in circles and running for the ridiculously big bathtub so they could soak together in the warmth of both the water and each others arms.