xiscamoony

Latest Posts by xiscamoony

One year of coloured lights | CS55

+18/MDNI

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x fem!reader.

Genre: Fluff.

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 1517.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, use of Y/N.

Author's note: Hello! This is my first published one shot in here. I'm a writer in my free time, and I finally decided to publish here. I hope you like it. Also, English is my third language, sorry for any mistakes.

A simple Thursday night changed my life, making it turn upside-down when I least expected it. I don't know if it was the hour, the weather or the music in the background when everything happened, but my life shifted completely.

I was out with some friends when I felt a pair of eyes on me that followed my every move and conversation that I was having. They felt extremely close but far enough that I wouldn't catch them every time I turned around. Shivers were continuously running down my spine but they weren't unpleasant. I didn't know who was watching me until one time I caught a pair of dark brown eyes shining brightly under the coloured lights of the venue. I forced my eyes to focus on the face that those eyes adorned, noticing a pair of full lips that hid a beautiful smile that shone bright when I caught him staring at me.

I turned around with a soft smile on my face and a faint blush covering my cheeks, continuing my conversation with my friends. I danced through a few songs, still feeling his eyes on me, but I tried not to turn and look at him. That was until one of my friends noticed something was making me nervous and a smile was permanently on my face. She looked around and found the eyes that were looking at me.

"You know that you have an admirer?" my friend asked with a teasing smirk.

"Yeah," I answered with a shy smile. "He's quite attractive."

"You should go and say something to him," she added as she made me turn around, making me look at him directly.

I looked back and saw how my friend encouraged me, so I continued walking until I reached the bar where he was standing. I stood a few meters apart from him, calling the bartender to grab another drink, and I caught his eyes a few times. I smiled at him as I grabbed my drink, rummaging through my bag to grab my phone to pay but I stopped when I saw a hand holding a card and paying for my drink.

With my eyes, I followed the hand up and I found that beautiful pair of dark brown eyes that were observing me before. I smiled at him and I extended my hand to greet him, but he surprised me when he grabbed it and left a soft kiss on the back, a soft blush dusting over my cheeks.

"Thanks," I said with a soft smile. "My name is Y/N."

"Carlos," he said with a Spanish accent. "It's nothing," he added with a bright smile.

"I think that I caught you staring at me a few times," I said, moving closer so he could hear me over the music.

"Yeah," he said with confidence. "You looked beautiful, but I can say that you're more beautiful up close," he added, leaning to whisper it in my ear, making me blush a deep shade of red that wasn't visible under the coloured lights.

I locked eyes with him and I saw a bit of mischief in them. In that moment, I felt his arm sneak around my waist, pulling me closer and making me gasp in surprise, and I ended up resting my hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart and making me smile.

"Care to dance?" he asked with a soft smirk.

I couldn't utter a word and I just nodded, letting him lead me to the centre of the dance floor. He grabbed my hand and made me twirl, putting me against his chest and hugging my waist, moving our bodies to the rhythm of the music.

"Are you having fun?" he whispered when he leaned his face against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"Yeah," I said moving my head a little, realising that we were closer than I expected.

After a few songs, we moved to the bar again and I saw my friend approaching us. She told me that they were going home and asked me if I wanted to go with them. When I said no, Carlos assured her that he would take me home safely, making my friend relax, and we said our goodbyes.

"You don't have to do that," I said to him with a smile.

"I know but I want to," he responded, his answer making me lock eyes with him.

"Want to dance again?" I asked him as I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to me.

He nodded with a soft smile, letting me drag him back to the dance floor. I let go of his hand and I twirled, shaking my hair with my hands. I ended up facing him and I put my arms around his neck, moving my hips to the rhythm of the music. He smiled, looking down at me and grabbing my hips, dancing with me and changing the rhythm when the music changed to a slow song. When the song finished, he moved closer until he rested his forehead on my shoulder.

"Want to get out of here?" he whispered in my ear, making a shiver run down my spine.

"Yes, but only if you take me home," I whispered back as I put one hand on his chest and the other went to touch his soft hair.

He pulled away and grabbed my hand, guiding me to the backdoor where he had his car parked. The ride to my apartment was engulfed in a comfortable silence, with stolen glances and his hand resting on my thigh while he drove. After a while, he stopped the car in front of my apartment complex and I turned to look at him.

"Thank you for bringing me home, Carlos," I said softly with a smile that he mirrored.

"It's nothing, Y/N," he said as I grabbed the door handle to get out of his car, when he suddenly grabbed my wrist, making me stop in my tracks. "Wait."

"Wha-" he stopped me mid-sentence with a soft kiss, that I immediately followed, sighing against his mouth.

We pulled apart, me blushing and him smirking, and tried to catch our breaths. I let out a nervous giggle and I moved slightly forward, resting my head on his shoulder while he put one hand on my back.

"That was incredible," I said, still out of breath and with a smile lingering on my face.

"Yeah," he said as he moved his head slightly to kiss the side of my head. "I want to see you again on a more relaxed place," he blurted out after a moment of silence.

"Are you asking me on a date?" I asked teasingly as I straightened my posture.

"Maybe..." he said, blushing a bit. "Only if you want to," he added, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

"Then it's a date," I said with a smile. "Here's my number," I added as I put a business card on his hand.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said as I opened the door of his car.

"I hope so," I responded with a smile as I got out of his car. "Thanks again, Carlos. And good night," I said before I closed the door of his car.

"Good night Y/N," he said from his car after he rolled his window down.

I walked towards the entrance of the complex and I turned around before I entered, seeing that he was waiting for me to get inside and waved at me before starting his car and disappearing into the night.

That was a year ago, the night I met Carlos Sainz and he entered into my life, putting it upside down. I wouldn't change anything that happened during this year, not when I get to wake up with his arm around my waist after a date night.

That's our current situation, where I'm feeling his breath against the back of my neck before I turn in his embrace to face him. I use this peaceful moment to count his freckles, thing that I do at every occasion I have, before he wakes up.

"Good morning, princesa," he says suddenly, his voice laced with sleep.

"Good morning, love," I say as I nuzzle against his chest, leaving a kiss there at the same time he kisses my temple.

"Do you want pancakes for breakfast?" he asks with a smile as he starts caressing my hips.

"Yes, please," I answer, looking up with a pout that he kisses before pulling away from me to get up, leaving me laying on the bed as I observe how he puts on some shorts before going to the kitchen.

I let out a soft sigh, feeling content and relaxed, before I get up and follow him, not before grabbing his shirt from the night before and my panties. I sit down on the kitchen bar, seeing him move around the kitchen, humming softly and throwing a wink when he sees me. I smile at him, feeling lucky to have him in my life.

Presentation and masterlist

Welcome to my blog!

Hi, my name is Xisca and I'm from Spain. I'm 22 and I love writing, music, books, football and motorsports. You will see that I'm an avid reblogger, so my blog will be a mix of my writings and my reblogs.

I'm open to requests, so feel free to send them. I don't have any objections about genre, topics, person or type of relationship.

This is a safe space for everyone. You can rant in my asks or you can send me a message if you need it.

I love you!

Masterlist

Formula 1

Carlos Sainz | CS55

One year of coloured lights (fluff)

Moto GP

Dani Pedrosa | DP26

A new speed (fluff)

F1 WAGS

Rebecca Donaldson | RD

Girls' nights

More to be added soon!

I love it💖💖

Three | Reader X Carlos Sainz X Rebecca Donaldson

really short, I just needed to deal with this idea before I combust, but it was made with love ❤️

English is not my first language

Warnings: online bs, haters

Face claim: Anne-Marie

Imrebeccad

Imrebeccad Weekend with mine truly 🤍

View all comments

Carlossainz55 Guapas!! Liked by the author ❤️

Ynishere The 😝 duo is here!

User2 The way she puts her bestie first is iconic

User6 bros before hoes!!!!!!

User9 can we talk about how y/n looks like Rebecca and Carlos emo daughter?

→ ynishere @/carlossainz55 @/imrebeccad they're calling you both old!

→ user9 I'M NOT

→ carlossainz55 @/ynishere you're too young!

→ ynishere I'M 5 YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU THAT'S NOT MUCH

User14 Carlos comment tho 😐

ynishere

Ynishere Pretty women only 🙏🏼

View all comments

Imrebeccad I love you, pretty! ❤️😝

→ ynishere love you too, bella! 🧡😝

Carlossainz55 Hermosas de mi corazón Liked by the author & imrebeccad

User8 if I was Rebecca I would be screaming and crying with Carlos comments on yn's posts, like what does he mean BEAUTIFUL OF MY HEART? No, please kill me already

User3 literally a family

User22 the only place yn is not giving emo is the beach

→ ynishere Forgive me father for I have sin 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Landonorris Carlos in the back, thinking about how he managed to the girl

→ ynishere I also got the girl!

→ landonorris and the boy this comment was deleted by the author

Carlossainz55

Carlossainz55 Great company ❤️

View all comments

User44 nuh uh! This is weird as shit! If Carlos is not cheating, he definitely wants to!

imrebeccad My favourite company, my two favourite persons in the entire world!

User66 everyone is dressed so nice and yn is in a hoodie... How did Carlos choose to cheat on Rebecca WITH HER?

Ynishere Maybe I do look like the weird daughter...

→ imrebeccad don't fuel the daughter allegations!

→ carlossainz55 I'm not old enough to be your father, please, stop

→ ynishere you two are boring...

User56 ok Rebecca, love, she WANTS YOUR MAN!

Landonorris Lucky man

User86 100% not emo any more

Imrebeccad posted a story

ynishere

Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boys

Ynishere Carlos real reaction to the first pic, like 100% real! No clickbait ❌

(got tired of high heels, never again)

View all comments

User76 I don't know who's more of a whore around here

User49 Since when this became a whore house?!

Imrebeccad Nice job with the censoring!

→ ynishere thank you!

User98 So Rebecca is the whore, but Carlos what in...

User44 the girl befriended Rebecca just to try to end her relationship, SUCH A BITCH

carlossainz55 caught in 4K as you might say

→ ynishere glad you know

The comments are now limited

Carlossainz55 and imrebeccad

Carlossainz55 I wasn't supposed to post this, so I'll deal with the consequences of this later, but I have something to tell you guys. I've been seen so many shitty comments on yn's posts, calling her all sort of names that doesn't describe her in the least! She is the most caring, loving, funny, energetic, talkative person I ever met. Everything Rebecca and I can say are good things, and see people that don't know her at all talking shit gives me a headache. Yn say she doesn't care because it is not true, but I know she cares, so I came here to straight things up, I'm not cheating on anyone, Rebecca neither, we're just three people that love each other, and will keep loving each other till death, you liking it or not. Please be respectful with the two girls that I love, they don't deserve all this bullshit.

View all comments

Ynishere I'm too punk rock, I can't cry!

→ imrebeccad she is in fact crying

Ynishere I love you two so much!!!

User4 oh

User66 didn't expect this one

Landonorris Is the Spanish accent, isn't it?

→ ynishere yes

→ imrebeccad it helps

Charlesleclerc FINALLY JESUS CHRIST

Scuderiaferarri PR will contact you soon they're currently crying and shipping the new throuple (can't blame them) and @/Williamsracing good luck next year

→ Williamsracing We're READY! Blue will suit you well @/ynishere

→ ynishere @/Williamsracing I love you already 💙

Imrebeccad my two true loves ❤️

Danielricciardo ok, why all the juicy stuff happens after I got out?

That would be me. I love them all and I would steal all of them from their boyfriends.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ chivalry isn’t dead! [wag edition!]

hey, it’s not like you wanted these girls to end up in these situations, you just happened to be there!

content warning; again, not much, you’re hella cool here though 🫡.

summary; ferrari reserve driver y/n strikes again with her chivalrous ways but with a lil’ twist! featuring the wags!

here’s part one, lovers!

It all started innocently enough—or so you’d claim if anyone ever asked.

You weren’t out here trying to put the grid to shame or steal anyone’s thunder. But when you saw that the boyfriends of the WAGs couldn’t be bothered to step up, you figured someone had to. And hey, if that someone happened to be you? So be it.

The first incident happened during the Monaco GP.

You were at a post-qualifying dinner, mingling with drivers and their partners. Kika, Pierre girlfriend, was struggling to take a picture of the group because Pierre, like the rest of the boys, was too busy comparing lap times. You noticed her dilemma and quickly stepped in.

“Want me to take it?” you asked, smiling.

“Oh, that’d be amazing, thank you!” Kika handed you her phone, and you crouched to find the best angle.

“Alright, everyone, squeeze in! And Pierre, stop pretending you’re taller than Lando,” you teased, earning laughs all around. After a few shots, Kika peeked over your shoulder and beamed.

“These are perfect! You’re a pro at this.”

“Just call me Ferrari’s unofficial photographer,” you joked, handing her phone back.

—

The second moment was a bit more… dramatic.

You were at Silverstone, where Alexandra,, Charles’ girlfriend, accidentally spilled her drink on her white pants during a VIP meet-and-greet. Charles was off giving interviews, and Alexandra looked mortified, dabbing at the stain with a napkin.

Without a word, you grabbed your Ferrari jacket from your chair and draped it over her waist.

“There. Crisis averted.”

Alexandra looked at you with wide eyes. “You didn’t have to—”

“It’s just a jacket,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, it suits you better.”

The press caught a picture of the moment, and the internet had a field day. #MsStealYourGirl started trending on Twitter, much to Charles’ amusement.

—

Things escalated in Austin.

Carmen, George’s girlfriend, was trying to find her way back to the paddock after wandering into the crowded fan zone. George was on track, and Carmen looked visibly flustered.

You were passing by when you spotted her. “Carmen, you good?”

“I think I got a little lost,” she admitted sheepishly.

Offering your arm, you grinned. “Come on, I’ll walk you back. Can’t have Mercedes losing their queen, can we?”

Fans caught the two of you walking arm-in-arm, laughing as you led her safely to the paddock. George later treated you to dinner.

—

The most talked-about moment, however, was in Abu Dhabi.

During the final afterparty of the season, you found yourself at the bar, chatting with some engineers, when you noticed Rebecca Donaldson trying to navigate the crowded dance floor in towering heels. Carlos was nowhere in sight, probably caught up in Ferrari’s celebrations.

“Careful there,” you said, steadying her when she stumbled slightly.

Rebecca smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Y/N. These shoes aren’t made for this.”

“Let me guess—Carlos picked them out?” you teased, earning a laugh.

“No, this was all me. Bad decision, though.”

“Here, take my seat. I’ll grab another,” you offered, guiding her to your spot at the bar. She gave you a look of pure gratitude.

“You’re too sweet.”

“Just doing my part,” you said with a wink.

—

By the end of the season, the WAGs were singing your praises. You’d become their unofficial knight in shining armor, the one they could count on when their boyfriends were too distracted by racing.

The drivers, meanwhile, took it all in stride—mostly.

“Alright, Y/N, enough with the heroics,” Pierre joked one day. “You’re making us look bad.”

“Maybe step up your game, Gasly,” you shot back with a smirk.

But honestly? You weren’t trying to show anyone up. You were just being you.

And if that meant stealing the hearts of every WAG on the grid? Well, you weren’t complaining.

can y’all tell i tried not to be borderline flirty? lol, you a gentleman, for real 🙂‍↔️✋🏻.

i’ve been in an insane writer’s block for the past few days, i’m rolling in bed like a maniac every other day, lol.

also, god bless women just because, the lily’s are definitely my fav wags (,,>ヮ<,,)!

anyways, pls enjoy!!

also, i have another version of this featuring y’all’s favourite, mr norris (which i contemplate to post at the moment).

I need more of this trouple😍😍. Oh! To be loved by the gorgeous Rebecca Donaldson.

And Carlos Sainz, too.

cozy mornings

pairing: poly!carlos sainz x reader x rebecca donaldson

summary: cozy mornings with your boyfriend and girlfriend

warnings: none

the soft light of the morning crept through the blinds, gently waking you from a peaceful sleep. you could feel the warmth of the blankets around you and the comforting presence of carlos and rebecca, who were still curled up beside you. the quiet of the morning was only broken by the soft rhythm of their breathing, the sounds of a calm, lazy morning.

you shifted slightly, feeling carlos’s arm wrapped around you, his warmth spreading through you, and rebecca’s hand resting lightly on your side. a soft smile tugged at your lips as you blinked sleepily, taking in the calm, cozy atmosphere. for a moment, everything felt perfect—just the three of you, together, in your little cocoon of blankets and comfort.

but then, your stomach gave a small, grumbling protest.

you chuckled quietly, feeling a little embarrassed, but it was hard to ignore the undeniable hunger. rebecca stirred beside you, blinking sleepily.

“hungry?” she asked, her voice hushed and still groggy with sleep, but there was no mistaking the playful smile in her voice.

“yeah,” you admitted, your voice still thick with the remnants of sleep. “just a little bit.”

rebecca’s hand moved over your side, her fingers gently brushing against your skin. she looked over at carlos, who was still half asleep, his face buried in the pillow.

“hey, sleepyhead,” she murmured, nudging him lightly. “time to make breakfast.”

carlos groaned softly, not quite ready to face the world yet. “mm, five more minutes,” he muttered, his voice muffled against the pillow.

you and rebecca exchanged amused glances, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “if we wait five more minutes, i’ll probably eat you both alive.”

this seemed to do the trick. carlos lifted his head slowly, blinking groggily at you both before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“fine, fine,” he said with a sigh, finally sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. “but only because i’m feeling generous.”

rebecca laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately. “generous? you mean, because you’re starving too, aren’t you?”

carlos smiled sheepishly, rubbing his eyes. “maybe a little.”

the three of you eventually managed to drag yourselves out of bed and into the kitchen. the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as rebecca started the machine, while you and carlos got to work gathering ingredients for breakfast. carlos was already ruffling through the cabinets, clearly in his element.

“so,” rebecca began, her voice teasing, “what’s on the menu today, chef?”

carlos flashed a grin over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up with that familiar sparkle. “well, i was thinking we could make my famous fluffy pancakes.”

your heart warmed at the thought. carlos’s pancakes were a special thing—light and fluffy, the kind of pancakes that could melt in your mouth and make you feel like you were tasting a bit of heaven. he’d made them countless times before, and every time, they were just as perfect as the last.

“i’m in,” you said, giving him a playful thumbs-up. “your pancakes are legendary.”

“legendary, huh?” carlos laughed, his confidence growing with each word. “i like the sound of that.”

rebecca chuckled, clearly fond of the banter between the two of you. “well, i’ll be the judge of that.”

you couldn’t help but smile as you set the table, grabbing plates and silverware while rebecca set out the fruit and syrup. the kitchen was alive with energy as carlos moved about, carefully measuring the ingredients, his focus sharp and precise. he loved cooking, and you could always tell when he was in his element, his hands moving smoothly through the motions, like he had a rhythm all his own.

“you’re getting really serious about this,” you teased, watching him crack an egg into a bowl with a look of concentration.

“i take pancakes very seriously,” carlos replied with a wink. “they’re not just food, they’re a work of art.”

“art,” you repeated, laughing softly. “well, i can’t wait to see the masterpiece.”

as carlos continued to mix the batter, rebecca moved to your side, handing you a mug of coffee. “thank you,” you said, taking a sip and feeling the warmth spread through you.

“anything for you,” she replied, her eyes soft as she looked at you. “feeling okay?”

you smiled at her concern, the warmth in her gaze making you feel loved and cared for. “yeah, just tired. but nothing a pancake breakfast won’t fix.”

“i’m sure carlos’s pancakes will work wonders,” rebecca said with a playful grin, glancing over at carlos.

“just wait and see,” carlos said confidently, flipping the first pancake with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times.

as the pancakes began to stack up, the kitchen was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and butter, a delicious reminder of how well the three of you fit together. rebecca took charge of preparing the toppings—sliced bananas, strawberries, and a drizzle of maple syrup—while you and carlos made sure the pancakes were perfectly golden.

“this looks incredible,” you said, admiring the stack of fluffy pancakes carlos had just placed on the counter. “i can’t wait to dig in.”

“you won’t have to wait much longer,” carlos said, giving you a playful smile as he slid a pancake onto your plate. “dig in, mi amor.”

rebecca’s laughter rang through the room as she set the last of the toppings on the table. “you two are absolutely ridiculous.”

“we know,” you replied with a grin, grabbing a fork and cutting into the soft, fluffy stack in front of you.

the first bite was everything you’d hoped for—light, airy, and just the right amount of sweetness. it was like the pancake melted in your mouth, each bite a little piece of heaven. you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment.

“told you,” carlos said smugly, his eyes twinkling with pride as he watched you savor the bite. “famous for a reason.”

“i’ll give it to you,” you said with a smile. “these are perfection.”

rebecca, too, took a bite, and you could see her expression soften with the same appreciation. “i have to admit,” she said between bites, “they really are as good as everyone says.”

“i told you,” carlos grinned. “i don’t make just any pancakes.”

the three of you sat around the table, enjoying the meal, laughing, and sharing small moments of warmth. the conversation flowed easily, just like it always did with the two of them. there were jokes about who could eat the most pancakes, rebecca teasing carlos about his “secret recipe,” and you both making sure he knew how much you appreciated his culinary skills.

after breakfast, you found yourselves lingering at the table, chatting, drinking more coffee, and enjoying each other’s company. there was no rush, no place you had to be. the world outside felt distant and irrelevant as you sat there with them, feeling safe and loved.

“i think this might be my new favorite way to spend a morning,” you said softly, leaning back in your chair and looking at both of them.

rebecca smiled at you, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. “we can do this every morning, if you’d like.”

“i’d like that,” you replied, your heart full.

carlos grinned, his eyes softening with affection. “well, if that’s the case, i’m going to need to perfect my pancake recipe even more.”

“good luck with that,” rebecca teased. “you’ve already set the bar pretty high.”

the three of you laughed together, the sound filling the room and making it feel even more like home. and in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, their presence, and the lingering sweetness of the pancakes, everything felt perfect.

This is a piece of art. I'm almost crying and I'm in class, so I can't. It's perfect and now I need a part 2 to see how he suffers when he realises that she's not his and it's never coming back. I don't care if she's with Oscar or not, I just need to hug her and see that she's happy. Thank you for your amazing writing and for the time spent creating this beautiful thing. 💖💖❤️❤️

HEAR ME (PURPLE LACED BRA) | LN4

an: i've been dying to post something to this so i'm glad i finally have something written - hope you guys enjoy it! go listen to so close to what!!

wc: 4.6k

THE MUSIC WAS DEAFENING, the bass shaking the floor beneath her heels, but she barely heard it. She stood at the edge of the VIP section, half-watching the celebration unfold in front of her. The club was packed—champagne bottles with sparklers, models draped over the backs of velvet sofas, cameras flashing every few seconds. And at the centre of it all was Lando.

He was grinning, drink in hand, surrounded by his team and a few celebrities she half-recognised. Another win. Another podium. Another reason for the world to love him. And they did—God, they did. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

She used to feel lucky just to stand beside him. Now, she wasn’t sure if she even existed in his world at all.

A hand brushed against the small of her back. She startled, turning to see Lando looking down at her with that easy, practised smirk—the one that melted screens and made headlines.

“Where’ve you disappeared to?” he asked, pulling her into his side. His hand rested low on her waist, fingers playing at the hem of her dress. He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning down, his lips grazing her ear. “Come on, don’t do that thing where you get all quiet on me.”

Her jaw clenched. He said it like it was a mood she put on, like she was being difficult. But what was the point of speaking when he never heard her?

So she did what she always did. She tilted her head, plastered on a smile, let him pull her closer. He liked her like this—silent, beautiful, easy.

A photographer stepped forward, camera ready. Lando straightened, his grip tightening just slightly, and just like that, she knew her role. She shifted towards him, leant into the picture, let them capture exactly what they wanted: The driver and his perfect girl.

But she was starting to wonder if that was all she would ever be.

The camera flash flickered, catching the sharp angles of Lando’s jaw, the gleam of his watch, the perfect way her body fit against his. The photographer gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already chasing after someone else worth capturing.

Lando exhaled through his nose, his grip on her easing now that the moment had passed. “See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Was that so hard?”

Her smile didn’t waver. It never did. But something in her chest twisted so tightly she almost felt breathless.

He turned back to his conversation, already lost in some animated discussion about the race, his hands moving as he recounted the final laps. She knew the words before they left his mouth—the same adrenaline-fuelled debrief he gave after every win. The late braking, the perfect strategy call, the rivals he left in his dust.

He was electric when he spoke about racing. It was the only time she ever saw him truly alive.

She used to love watching him like this. Now, she just felt like a shadow beside him.

Her fingers skimmed the rim of her untouched drink as she scanned the room. Everywhere she looked, people were watching him. Not her. Never her. She could disappear right now and no one would notice.

Well—almost no one.

Lando’s teammates, Oscar, was watching her from across the table. He had that knowing look in his eye, the one that made her stomach twist. He always seemed to see things, things she wasn’t ready to admit.

She turned away before he could say anything.

“I’m going to the loo,” she said quietly, but Lando didn’t even glance at her. He just gave a distracted nod, still deep in conversation.

Of course.

She stepped away, weaving through the throng of people, their laughter and shouting merging into white noise. The ladies’ toilets were tucked behind a velvet curtain, far enough from the chaos that the music was just a dull thud in the walls. She pushed open the door and exhaled, gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked exactly how she was supposed to. The perfect dress, the flawless makeup, the effortless kind of beauty that people expected from the girlfriend of a star.

But looking perfect had never felt so exhausting.

The door swung open behind her, and she braced herself, half-expecting one of the other WAGs to stroll in. Instead, it was Oscar.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. “You alright?”

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Maybe.” His gaze didn’t waver. “But I think you should hear yourself answer it.”

Her throat tightened.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t alright. And she was starting to think she never had been.

She turned back to the mirror, gripping the porcelain edge of the sink as if it could steady her. Behind her, Oscar hadn’t moved. He wasn’t pushing her to answer, but his silence said enough.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing the words out smoothly. Too smoothly.

Oscar huffed a quiet breath, tilting his head slightly. “That’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, and for a second, something flickered in her chest—something that made her want to fold, to speak, to say all the things she’d been swallowing down for too long.

But what was the point? She could scream at the top of her lungs, and Lando still wouldn’t hear her.

She turned away, brushing past Oscar as she pulled open the door. “I should get back.”

“Should you?” His voice was quiet but steady.

She paused.

Oscar sighed, shifting his weight. “Look, I know it’s not my business, but I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look when he’s not.”

Her breath hitched slightly. She hated that he noticed. She hated that someone had caught onto the thing she’d spent months trying to ignore.

Still, she forced a light laugh, giving him an amused glance over her shoulder. “You analysing me now?”

His lips twitched. “You could say that. You know, body positioning determines whether or not someone’s actually listening.”

The words sent a sharp pang through her chest.

Because Lando never did listen. She could whisper in his ear, touch him, scream until her throat was raw—but the only time he truly paid attention was when she was undressing, when she was playing the role he wanted her to. And maybe she’d accepted that for a while, maybe she’d let herself believe that was just part of loving someone like him.

But now… now it felt suffocating.

Her phone buzzed.

Lando: Where’d you go? Come back.

No “Are you okay?” No “Do you need me?” Just come back. Like she was a misplaced watch or a forgotten drink.

She swallowed the bitter lump in her throat, forcing another easy smile as she tucked her phone away. “I should go.”

Oscar didn’t stop her. He just nodded, but the look in his eyes stayed with her as she slipped back into the club, where Lando was waiting.

Waiting for her.

Not her thoughts, not her words, not the things that made her her. Just her body, her presence, her silence.

And she was starting to wonder if that was all she’d ever be to him.

The night dragged on. More drinks, more cameras, more mindless conversations she wasn’t part of. She stayed close to Lando, playing the role as she always did, but she felt herself slipping further and further away.

By the time he decided they were leaving, she felt like a ghost in her own body.

As Lando shook hands and exchanged goodbyes with the people that mattered, she glanced towards the bar, her eyes catching on Oscar.

He was already looking at her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something steady in his gaze—something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

Before she could stop herself, she gave him a small, tired smile.

Oscar didn’t smile back, but the way his jaw clenched slightly told her enough.

Lando’s hand landed on her hip, pulling her back into focus. “Come on,” he murmured, already leading her towards the exit, towards his car, towards another night of being exactly what he wanted.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the McLaren filling the silence between them. Lando was relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on her bare thigh.

She stared out the window, watching the city blur past, her thoughts tangled.

Would he hear me more if I whispered? If I touched him the way he wanted? If I played this part forever?

Would he ever hear me?

She barely realised they’d arrived until the car pulled smoothly into the hotel’s private entrance. The valet opened her door, and she stepped out into the warm night air, still feeling that lingering touch on her skin.

The lift ride was just as silent. Lando didn’t notice—he was scrolling through his phone, probably checking messages, reading about his win, soaking in the world’s praise.

She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself.

The moment they stepped into their suite, the tension shifted.

Before she could even take a breath, Lando’s hands were on her, spinning her towards him.

She barely had time to react before he had her pressed against the wall, his body firm against hers, his lips brushing against her neck. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he murmured against her skin.

She swallowed, her hands coming up to his chest, pushing lightly. “I’m tired.”

Lando barely hesitated. “Come on,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her jaw, his hands sliding over her hips. “Don’t do that.”

That.

That meaning the exhaustion in her voice. That meaning the part of her that wanted something more than this.

“I’m not in the mood, Lando.” Her voice was firmer this time.

He let out a sharp exhale, pulling back just enough to look at her properly. His dark eyes scanned her face, and for a second, she thought—hoped—that maybe he’d see something. Maybe he’d hear something.

But then he just scoffed. “You’re always bloody tired these days.”

And just like that, she knew.

There was no concern in his voice. No question of what was wrong. No care for why she felt like this, for why she had been drifting further and further from him. Just frustration. Just disappointment that she wasn’t giving him what he wanted.

She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as something inside her cracked wide open. “I think I’m going to take a bath.”

Lando studied her for a moment longer, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. “Yeah, whatever.”

And then—just like that—he turned and walked out of the suite, the door clicking shut behind him.

She stood there, frozen.

Not surprised. Not angry.

Just… empty.

And that was the worst part.

She moved through the next couple of hours on autopilot.

She took off her makeup, wiped away the remnants of the night. She ran a bath but barely stayed in it long enough for the heat to sink into her skin. She changed into one of Lando’s oversized shirts, something she always did before bed—more out of habit than comfort now.

And then she sat.

Just sat on the edge of their bed, staring at nothing, the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. The weight in her chest pressed heavier and heavier until it finally cracked, and before she even realised it, tears spilled over her cheeks.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to blink them away. What the hell is wrong with me?

It wasn’t like this was new. Lando had always been like this. She had always been an accessory to him, something to be looked at, shown off, touched when it suited him.

But tonight felt different.

Tonight, she had said no. And he had walked away like she was nothing more than an inconvenience.

A quiet sob broke from her throat, and she buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

She didn’t even hear the door open at first.

It wasn’t until she caught the heavy thud of something hitting the sofa that she jolted upright, quickly wiping at her tear-streaked face. Her heart pounded as she turned towards the noise, her breath catching in her throat.

Lando was slumped on the suite’s sofa, looking barely conscious. And standing over him, an arm still half-draped around his shoulders, was Oscar.

Her stomach twisted. “What—?”

Oscar let out a breath, straightening up and shaking his head. “Your boyfriend’s had one too many.”

Her eyes flickered back to Lando. His head lolled against the cushion, his shirt slightly rumpled, his hair a mess. He was clearly out of it.

She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Where did you find him?”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, looking both exasperated and unimpressed. “Slumped in the back of the club, surrounded by people who were more interested in snapping pictures of him than making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Figured you might want to know.”

Her chest tightened.

Of course. Of course this was how he handled things—getting wasted, drowning himself in attention that didn’t require him to actually feel anything. It was easier than facing his own reflection.

Or maybe… it was easier than facing her.

She let out a slow breath, rubbing at her temple. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

Oscar nodded but didn’t move. He was watching her carefully, like he could still see too much.

Like maybe, just maybe, he knew she had been sitting here crying before he walked in.

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “You don’t have to stay.”

Oscar hesitated for half a second before his jaw tightened, and he gave a small, reluctant nod. “Alright.”

But as he moved towards the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You know… if you ever get tired of this,” he gestured vaguely to Lando’s slumped form, “you don’t have to stay.”

Her throat closed up.

Oscar didn’t wait for an answer. He just slipped out the door, leaving her alone with the man who was supposed to love her.

But as she sat there, staring at Lando—passed out, blissfully unaware—she realised something.

She had never felt lonelier in her life.

She sat down on the floor beside the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest. The carpet was soft beneath her, but everything else felt unbearably sharp.

Her gaze flickered over Lando’s face—the strong jawline, the perfect cheekbones, the dark lashes that cast faint shadows against his skin. He looked almost peaceful like this, lost in whatever drunken haze he had drowned himself in.

Her chest ached as she reached out, fingers threading gently through his hair. It was soft beneath her touch, familiar in a way that made her heart hurt even more.

A quiet sob broke from her lips as she whispered, “Why wasn’t I enough?”

She had loved him so fiercely. She had stood by him, supported him, adored him. She had been everything he wanted her to be—poised, beautiful, silent when it mattered.

And yet, as she sat there, her tears slipping onto the fabric of his shirt, she finally understood.

She had fallen in love with him. But he had only ever fallen in love with her body.

Her hands curled into fists in his shirt as a quiet, broken sound left her throat. She had spent so long trying to be heard, to be seen, but the truth was devastatingly simple. Lando had never wanted to know her. He had never cared about her thoughts, her fears, her soul.

Only how she looked standing beside him. Only how she felt beneath him.

A shaky breath shuddered through her as she slowly pulled back.

Her gaze landed on his phone, lying loosely in his hand.

For a long moment, she just stared at it.

Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she carefully pried it from his grip. He didn’t stir. She tilted it towards his face, and with a soft sound, the lock screen vanished.

Her heart pounded as she pulled up his messages, ready to text Oscar.

But she never got that far.

Because the moment she opened his messages, her stomach dropped.

Hundreds.

Hundreds of messages.

All from different girls.

Some were old, buried beneath months of conversations. Others were recent. Some from tonight.

Her breath caught in her throat as she scrolled. He hadn’t even bothered to be subtle. Flirty messages, suggestive photos, hotel room numbers exchanged without hesitation.

Like it was nothing.

Like she was nothing.

A sharp, painful lump formed in her throat, but no more tears came. Maybe because there was nothing left to grieve.

Because the man she thought she loved?

He had never existed.

Her hands shook slightly as she backed out of the messages and pulled up his texts. She typed quickly, her fingers moving without hesitation.

Lando: What’s your room number?

The reply came almost instantly.

Oscar: Why?

She swallowed hard, staring at the screen. Then, without another thought, she typed back.

Lando: Please. Just tell me.

There was a long pause. Then—

Oscar: 2209.

She exhaled slowly, then locked the phone and set it back beside Lando.

For the first time in a long, long time, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

And for the first time—she wasn’t going to ask for permission.

She didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t stop to second-guess herself.

For so long, she had been trapped in this cycle—ignoring the things she didn’t want to see, pretending everything was fine. But now? The truth had cracked open in front of her, and there was no going back.

She stood up, wiping at her face, even though no more tears had fallen. Her body felt strangely light, like the weight pressing down on her for months had finally started to lift.

But she wasn’t free yet.

She grabbed a bag from the wardrobe, moving quickly, shoving in the essentials—her passport, her wallet, a few clothes. Enough to get her away from here, away from him.

She hesitated when she reached for one of Lando’s oversized shirts—the one she was still wearing. Then, with a bitter exhale, she pulled it off, yanking on a cropped tank top and a pair of shorts instead.

This wasn’t his to keep anymore.

Without a second glance, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out of the suite, her pulse hammering as she stepped into the empty hallway.

She didn’t look back.

The corridor outside 2209 was quiet.

Her hands felt clammy as she knocked once. A part of her expected Oscar to ignore it, to assume it was Lando being drunk and annoying.

But after a moment, the door cracked open, and Oscar stood there, his brows pulling together the second he saw her.

“What the hell—?”

“I—” Her voice wavered, and suddenly, everything hit her all at once. The weight of the last few hours. The betrayal. The realisation that the man she had given her heart to had never truly wanted it in the first place.

She dropped her gaze, blinking hard. “I can’t—I can’t stay there.”

Oscar was silent for a beat. Then, without another word, he stepped aside, pulling the door open wider.

She hesitated, guilt twisting in her stomach. “I—I’ll book my own room. I just—needed to get out.”

Oscar’s jaw tensed, his eyes scanning her face. “You’re not booking a hotel at—” he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, “—two in the bloody morning.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet huff. “For fuck’s sake, just—get in.”

Her throat closed up, but she nodded, stepping inside as he shut the door behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with herself. The adrenaline that had carried her here was wearing off, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and heartbreak.

She felt Oscar watching her.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” His voice was steady. Not pushing, not demanding. Just there.

That was what undid her.

Because when was the last time anyone had asked her how she felt? When was the last time someone had wanted to hear what she had to say—without conditions, without expectations?

Her shoulders shook as she sucked in a breath, her hand coming up to cover her face.

And then she broke.

A strangled sob ripped from her throat as she sank onto the edge of the bed, the tears she had been holding back finally crashing over her.

Oscar didn’t say anything.

He just moved.

She barely registered it at first—the dip of the mattress beside her, the way his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest.

For a moment, she stiffened. She wasn’t used to this—to comfort without expectation. But Oscar just held her, warm and solid, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

She sobbed harder.

“He never loved me,” she whispered through the tears, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. “I—I thought he did, but he just—he just loved the way I looked. The way I made him look.”

Oscar’s grip on her tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. “I know.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “I was so stupid.”

Oscar exhaled sharply. “You weren’t stupid.”

She let out a hollow laugh. “Then what was I?”

Oscar was quiet for a long time. Then—

“You were in love.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because she still was.

Oscar didn’t pull away. He just kept holding her, letting her cry against him. His hands were steady on her back, his touch warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her own shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, voice muffled in his shirt, her tears soaking into the fabric. “I thought… I thought I could fix it. But I don’t even know who he is anymore. Or who I am to him.”

Oscar’s hand smoothed through her hair, the motion gentle. “You don’t have to fix anything, alright?” he said softly, his voice low and comforting. “You don’t owe him anything. You only owe yourself the truth.”

She nodded weakly, though it felt like a hundred-pound weight was sitting on her chest.

He let her cry for as long as she needed, and when the sobs finally slowed, he shifted slightly, coaxing her to lie down.

“Let me get you into bed,” he murmured.

She wanted to protest, but she was too tired—physically and emotionally—so she allowed him to help her, shifting her legs as he gently guided her onto the mattress. Oscar tucked the blanket around her and, for a moment, just stood there, looking down at her.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she managed to lift her head slightly to meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, barely a whisper.

Oscar gave her a small smile, but there was no mockery, no playfulness in it—just something real. “Get some sleep. I’m right here.”

She didn’t have the strength to say anything else. Her eyes fluttered shut, and before she knew it, the exhaustion of the day caught up with her.

When she woke up, the room was bathed in the soft morning light. She blinked a few times, groggy, trying to remember where she was, what had happened.

Then the events of the night came flooding back, and her chest squeezed with pain.

But as she stirred beneath the covers, she realised the weight on her was gone. There was no harshness, no cold emptiness pressing in on her. Instead, she smelled something familiar. Something warm.

She turned her head, and there, sitting at the desk, was Oscar.

He was holding a tray with a simple breakfast—croissants, fruit, and coffee. “Morning,” he said with a small smile, looking up from the screen of his phone.

Her stomach grumbled, and she smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture more than she could express. “I didn’t expect this,” she murmured, sitting up slowly.

Oscar grinned, though there was something soft in his eyes. “Well, you’ve had a rough night, haven’t you? Figured you could use something other than room service for a change.”

She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

After a few moments of eating in silence, she reached for her phone. The screen lit up with a message notification—nothing from Lando.

Her heart skipped, but she told herself not to feel disappointed.

She unlocked her phone and opened Instagram, the app taking a moment to load. She tapped through her feed absentmindedly, but her thumb froze as her eyes landed on a photo—Lando, in his usual athletic wear, standing on a padel court, laughing with some other drivers.

He hadn’t noticed.

She stared at the photo for a long, long time.

He hadn’t even thought to message her.

There it was again. That crushing, suffocating truth.

She had spent the entire night worrying about him, about why he hadn’t cared, about why he had left her feeling like this.

And there he was, looking perfectly fine. Having fun. Living his life without a single care in the world about what she had gone through.

Her breath hitched, and she set her phone down, her hands trembling.

It hit her all over again—the truth that Lando had never cared about her in the way she had hoped. He never would.

The realisation was sharp and brutal. And this time, it didn’t feel like the first time she had felt heartbroken—it felt like the first time she had truly woken up.

She looked up at Oscar, her breath still shaky. He was watching her, waiting for something.

“Lando’s out there,” she whispered, her voice a little too quiet, too small. “He’s out there, laughing, living his life, like nothing happened.”

Oscar nodded, but his expression wasn’t pitying. It wasn’t anything like the way Lando would have looked at her in that moment. “Yeah. He is.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, and he set the breakfast tray down beside her. He sat next to her on the bed, his hand brushing hers. “You don’t have to figure it out right now.”

She met his eyes, and this time, there was a calmness inside her—a stillness, like she was beginning to see herself for the first time in forever.

“I’m not going to let you stay in that toxic shit,” Oscar said, his voice steady. “You’ve already put up with it for too long. But if you need time, I’m here.”

She didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling, but for once, she didn’t need to.

“Thank you,” she whispered again, the words feeling like the most sincere thing she’d said in a long time.

And in that moment, as she sat beside Oscar, she realised—maybe she could finally let go. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing things with Lando. Maybe it was about fixing herself.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @driverlando

Mmmmh... I'm speechless right now🙊🙊😈😈

cs55 - "Just sit down on it" smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, sauna sex, public sex (if you squint), riding carlos (he really wants you to), him worshiping you, creampie, cumplay

The delicious electricity is buzzing in your body of just being around Carlos. The air was tense, but in a good way, sucking all the oxygen out of your lungs. His eyes, dark and predator-like, were focused on you, as if you were a pretty deer in the headlights, and he was waiting to consume you. Carlos truly did consume you, but again, in the best way possible. You fell in love with him again every winter break, when his undivided attention was for you, when he was completely yours, his phone was off, and it was just the two of you. You felt the warmth blossoming in your chest at the thought of the past nights, spending the sunsets in the cabana, getting wine drunk and drunk on each other, which would start with innocent kisses and unfolded into the best sex of your life, every night.

Your thighs were even a little sore, the muscles in the back of your legs complaining a little when you hopped on the bike this afternoon. Anyone who looked closer could see the faint marks of his fingertips that had pressed into your hips so hard as he pulled you over his cock over and over again, watching you fall apart underneath him just to bury his mouth between your thighs after, having you make the prettiest sounds for him. The mere thought caused the goosebumps to rise upon your skin, even while the sauna was burning hot and droplets of sweat were rolling down your spine. You looked over your shoulder at Carlos, who was sitting back, thighs spread, arms behind the back of his head, his eyes still boring into yours, gliding over your body in the bikini.

The blue one was his favorite, not just because he was going to be dressed in blue from the start of the new season, but because the color looked so pretty on you. The small panties were tied together on either side of your hips, the top clinging to your tits in a way that never failed to make him hard. You finally made your way back to him, extending the second glass of wine you were carrying. Carlos took it from you, his other hand landing on his thigh, already expecting you to get into his lap. You easily slid onto his thighs, your hand landing on his chest. "Dame un beso, mi reina," he hummed, palm squeezing your thigh. "You use that so often on me and it still works," you sigh, your fingers trailing up his strong pecs, landing on the side of his neck.

His hair was salty, slicked back from moving his fingers through. He was so tan from just a week in the Maldives, it was nearly unfair. "I know it does," Carlos grins, his hand gliding to the small of your back, pulling you closer, pulling you over his erection. The friction made you squirm a little, his hot breath ghosting over your face before your lips connected in a delicious kiss. In combination with the few sips of wine, your mind was already spinning, feeling the heat of his body against yours, his abs against your stomach, how big he was beneath you. And you were talking about not just his goodies, his whole body. You weren't exactly petite, but he made you feel that way, and you loved it.

Within a quick, cheeky move, the strings of your top were loosened, making you pull back from him and cover your tits with your arm. "There are people around," you tssk. "They can look away if it bothers them. Or stay watching," Carlos simply replies, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, moving your arm away from your chest, eyes dropping to your hardened nipples. "That's sooo naughty," you whisper, earning a low chuckle and another kiss. His hips buck up slightly, drawing a whine from your throat as his other hand put down the glass of wine, pulling on the flimsy panties, intensifying the friction on your clit. "Look who's talking," Carlos teases, leaving hot, open mouth kisses on your neck.

You could taste the wine on his tongue when your lips connected again, his tongue licking into your mouth. Your hips rolled down on him, feeling him grow in his shorts. Carlos' fingertips slipped inside your panties, rubbing circles over your clit and spreading the slick wetness that was leaking from your pussy. His other hand moved into the hair in the nape of your neck, teeth nipping at the skin of your throat while you whimpered. "Ride me?" his voice rasped in your ear. "You're insane," you reply, your hand sliding down his abs, finding his happy trail that led your fingers to the waistband of his shorts. "Solo para ti." His pupils are blown when you look into his eyes, lips parting with a soft breath as your hand wraps around the girth, thumb spreading the precum over the fat head of his cock.

His thighs spread a little further when your hand starts to jerk him off, the sight causing the butterflies to flutter around in your stomach. Everything about him is so beautiful, so manly, so hot. You gnaw at your bottom lip as you look at his cock, the rip red and eager, the vein on the underside throbbing at the touch of your hand. "Mi amor..." Carlos complained, leaning forward to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, both hands grabbing your ass to hurry you over him. "Just sit down on it," he groaned, making you giggle a little. Carlos shoves your panties aside, and you raise your hips, slowly sliding down on his cock. The stretch is amazing every time, pushing against the walls of your pussy, nearly splitting you in half. Carlos moans at the feeling of being completely inside you, his eyes zoning in on where he fills you up.

His hand brushes over your lower abdomen, pressing against where the tip of his cock was bulging. "Feel me there, hmm?" his voice rasps. "Fuck me," you whine, giving him a high-pitched moan as he slaps your ass. There's a sly smile on your face, damn well knowing he wants you to do the work. You slowly start moving your hips, sliding your cunt up and down his cock, sucking him and gripping him tightly to feel all the ridges and veins. He feels so good. Your palms press firmly against his shoulders, nails biting at his skin. The clip that held your hair up had fallen out when his hands ruined your pretty updo. "Te ves tan bonita así, fuck," Carlos cursed under his breath, watching your tits bounce in his face. One of his hands groped them, thumb rolling over your nipple, watching your head roll back with a moan.

He looked up at you with dark, hazed eyes, leaned back to watch you properly, drinking you in, loving - worshiping, what he was seeing. Your toes curled as you ground your hips firmly down on him, finding an angle that made him hit your g-spot perfectly. Carlos' fingers slotted around your hips again, helping you up and down his cock as he felt you squeezing him. He got lost in how good you felt, how slick, warm and wet your pussy was, the obscene sounds that bounced off the walls in the sauna. A few strands of his hair hung in front of his eyes, which you slicked back with your fingers, his hair damp with sweat. His body was glowing, muscles prominent. You could feel him tense up under your touch, his breathy grunts telling you he was just as close as you were.

"Shit," you muttered, feeling his thumb rubbing firm circles over your clit again. Carlos started meeting your thrusts, hands pawing at your hips to keep you close. "You're crazy," you moan, knowing it wouldn't take long before he'd fill you with his cum. The thought of doing this, semi-publicly, made him throb inside you, especially as he knew you'd have to walk back to the cabana after. The image of his cum dripping down your thighs nearly made him go feral. You didn't even try to push away, you gladly let him slip into you deeply, a few more circles of his thumb on your clit letting you spiral into the most delicious orgasm. You looked down at him as he came, his abs contracting, eyes screwed shut. You admire him for a couple of seconds, moving your hands up his chest again before cupping his face.

"You make me want to bite you," you sigh. "In a good way," you add, nipping at one of his beefy biceps. "If you want me to eat you, you can just ask," Carlos says, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I'll double it and give it to myself later," you muse, toying with the hair in the nape of his neck. You swivel your hips slightly, making him groan. "There are no people in line to use this sauna, right?" you ask, looking over your shoulder before getting off his lap, kneeling between his thighs. Your teeth bite into his equally beefy thighs, satisfied when a smirk shows up on his handsome face. His cock throbs when your lips come near it, blood rushing south again when your hand wraps around it. "Talk about crazy," he sighs, head lulling back when your mouth takes him in.

This one is so cute😍😍🥺🥺

"(Not) dancing in the moonlight" - teacher!Remus Lupin x teacher!reader

A/N: I was in a desperate need for something soft and winterish so uhhh here have this! <3 Headcanons? Memes? Let’s talk! My asks are here.

Warnings: setting of NYE, post-full moon Remus (minor descriptions of physical and mental discomfort), wit/sarcasm, smoking cigarettes, use of mobility aid, minor description of fireworks (hurt/comfort + fluff - mostly major fluff)

Summary: Professor Remus Lupin and his partner spend a soft NYE evening within the walls of Hogwarts. Turns out being on a teacher night duty isn’t so bad when you’re your pupils’ favourite.

Word count: 1.2K+

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"On my heart, where you're resting your head.

And you just look so beautiful.

It's like you were an angel.

Can I stop the flow of time?

Can I swim in your divine?

'Cause I don't think I'd ever leave this place."

“You’ve got options,” you said, holding up two tea bags for him to see. “Which will it be, darling?”

Remus was sitting on the leather sofa of Gryffindor’s common room with his legs propped up on a wooden coffee table.

Unfortunately, Remus ended up being assigned for a New Year’s Eve teacher duty for Gryffindor. At first, you’d been quite disappointed by the fact that you and Remus couldn’t attend New Year’s Eve ball organized in your beloved restaurant in Hogsmeade. It was your annual tradition to go there ever since you were teenagers. The tradition started after Lily and James had found the restaurant – it wasn’t very popular amongst Hogwarts students since it’s on the fancier side. But after going there once you all made a promise to save some money throughout the year so that all of you could go there at least once a year for the New Year’s Eve party. Lily particularly loved the place for the delicious food. She hadn’t been able to stop raving about it for at least a couple of days back at school.  After their passing it felt mandatory for you and Moony to keep the tradition alive.

Even if it wasn’t for the teacher duty your plans would have changed anyway – full moon had fallen right after Christmas leaving Remus drained both physically and mentally. So, the change of plans kind of worked out for the better in a way. The idea of loud crowds and dancing was obviously out of the question. As much as you wanted to enjoy an evening out, you were glad to be with him in a way that didn’t push him beyond what he could handle.

Remus squinted across the room, clearly trying to see what you were holding up, but then he gave up with a small sigh. Leaning forward, he reached for his cane and slowly made his way towards you. The soft taps of the cane against the wooden floor were the only sound besides the crackle of the fireplace.

When he reached you, he stood for a moment, his head tilting as he scanned the options you held in your hands.

“Hmm,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he reached out. He plucked one of the tea bags from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with a warmth that gave you butterflies.

“I’ll take this one.” He watched you as you carefully poured water into your mugs. You turned over your shoulder to shoo him away and make him settle on the sofa comfortably, careful not to spill the boiling hot water over yourself.

Just as you were about to hand him his mug, the portrait hole creaked open. The cold outer air mixed in with the warm, pine-scented air within the common room.

You turned your head, half-expecting it to be the Fat Lady herself popping in to complain about something. Instead, three familiar figures shuffled in, trying - and failing to move quietly.

Ron tripped, stumbling over the hem of his own robe.

“Shhh!” Hermione hissed, quickly grabbing his arm to steady him.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Ron whispered back, louder than necessary.

She sent him a deathly glare in response.

Harry, stuck in the middle, shot both of them an irritated look before glancing towards the sofa. His blue eyes widened when he spotted you and Remus, clearly realizing they weren’t as sneaky as they thought.

“Weee- we. Umm we-- weren’t expecting anyone to be up.” he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Clearly…There’s nothing more subtle than tripping over your own feet, whisper-shouting, and holding the portrait hole open like you’re inviting Filch in for tea.”

You tried really hard not to laugh at your husband's remark. His quick wit was one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place.

Ron turned bright red.

“We weren’t doing anything! Just, uh, checking to see if—”

“You’re sneaking out." you interrupted, crossing your arms completely unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. Their shenanigans reminded you so much of yourself and the rest of marauders back in the day.

“No, we’re not!” Ron protested, which would’ve been more convincing if Hermione didn’t shoot him a sharp don’t-lie-to-a-teacher look.

“Alright, fine. WE ARE sneaking out…” Harry said. Honesty was the best approach in this situation.

“We just wanted to watch the fireworks over the lake. We’ll come right back, I promise.”

You exchanged a glance with Remus, who took a slow sip of his tea, clearly dragging out the suspense just to mess with them. You poked his side noticing Hermione’s pale face.

“Well,” he finally said, setting the mug down, “Fireworks over the lake, huh? Sounds nice."

“But let me guess — you haven’t thought this plan all the way through, have you?” Remus continued.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked defensively.

“We have!” Hermione said quickly, holding up a piece of fabric.

“We’ve got the invisibility cloak.”

Remus tilted his head, looking at the cloak with mock seriousness.

“And how, exactly, are you planning to fit all three of you under it?”

Ron looked down at his feet.

“It might be a liiiittle bit snug.” You shook your head.

“Remus, just let them go. If they get caught, they will have something funny to talk about.”

Remus sighed dramatically, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Fine. But,” he said, pointing a finger at them, “if you get caught, don’t come crying to me and professor Y/N.”

“Deal!” Harry said quickly, nudging Ron and Hermione back toward the portrait hole.

“Happy New Year!” Ron called over his shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late professor Lupin — you’re looking a bit peaky! Good night professor Lupin II! Love you both!”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head.

The portrait closed, and you tucked yourself into his side.

“I swear to merlin that boy has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.”

He looked down to search through his pocket to grab his cigarette box and a lighter.

“We’re such pushovers for them.” You said laughing.

“Maybe so,” he admitted with a sincere smile.

He held out his cigarette box motioning to the balcony.

“Fancy a smoke ma’am?”

“Baaad, bad influence Lupin.“

He smirked, lighting his cigarette as he held the balcony door open for you.

“I’ve been called worse.”

You stepped out into the crisp night air, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“But ‘bad influence’ suits you tonight.” He lit your cigarette.

“Only on special occasions.” he said with a grin, blowing a stream of smoke.

“I can’t believe Ron called me ‘Professor Lupin II’.”

“See? You’re the second Lupin on the list. Maybe being soft isn’t so bad hun.“

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. He wrapped his arm around your waist and huffed with laughter into your hair.

In the distance, you could see the first flash of fireworks lighting up the sky over the lake, shimmering almost like falling stars, leaving a trail of glowing sparks that slowly disappeared into the night.

“Happy new year love.”

Thank you for reading! stay whelmed xx

This one is so cute and fluffy😍😍💖💖

🌶️ DADDY — CARLOS SAINZ

bf!carlos x fem!reader | wc : 0.5k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, fluff, humor, lots of petnames, a tinge of suggestiveness towards the end | loki's lines : mom i love him

"carlitos, look at what the fans are saying!"

you grinned, turning your phone as you showed your screen to your boyfriend so he could see.

carlos squinted his eyes at your phone, shaking his head. "too many words, mi amor. what does it say?" he asked, too lazy to read what you were showing.

he sunk into the sofa, eyes closed, as he tried to go back to the nap he was having. you brought the phone closer, reading what was in the article.

"carlos sainz now dubbed daddy sainz. f1 fans come up with a new nickname after seeing—"

"eh?!" the brunet shot up from his seat, eyes filled with panic as his head snapped towards you. "what are these people saying?!"

"they say you are daddy." you repeated, stifling a laugh as his eyes widened. "it's like saying—"

"who wrote this?!" carlos shook his head. "mi vida, please know this is not true. i don't know who said this is true, but it's not."

you couldn't help but frown, wondering why the nickname was bothering your boyfriend. he was mad, and it was very evident as you looked at him.

before you could ask him what the reason was, he held your hands, kneeling on the floor of the living room of your shared apartment as he looked at you.

"i am not a daddy, y/n. you are my first love and only love. i never in my life—i promise i don't have any children, mi amor. i am not a daddy."

your face fell as you heard his words, finding your boyfriend's gesture absolutely precious. you kneeled next to him on the floor, pouting as you held his face in your hands.

"oh, you adorable thing. gosh, i love you so much." you pecked his lips, smiling widely. "they aren't accusing you of being a dad, my love. it's a nickname your fans gave to you."

"but how is daddy..."

"daddy is a slang word of sorts. it means someone who is very sexy and attractive and also has good qualities associated with protection and care — basically, someone like you!"

carlos stayed quiet, and you let him have this moment to himself. a minute passed before he looked at you again, this time with relief in his eyes in contrast to the shock that was in them before.

"this english language is very difficult." he sighed, shaking his head. "i don't know how you do it."

you chuckled in amusement. "english to you is exactly how spanish is to me." you shrugged.

carlos smiled, his hands around your waist as he pulled you closer, capturing your lips in his. you let out a surprised gasp at his sudden action, only making him smile wider at your reaction.

"so, does this mean you agree with the fans?" he asked as he pulled away, making you raise your brows in question. "that i'm very sexy and attractive?"

you chuckled at his words. "way to ruin the moment, carlos." you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat, seeing the look of adoration on your boyfriend's face as he looked at you.

"actually, you don't even have to answer the question." he shrugged, a confident smile on his face. "i can just find out tonight and see what you call me when you are full of my-"

"carlos sainz vázquez de castro!"

not really sure who to tag bc this is just a small carlos drabble i had lying around, do let me know if you want to be included to my normal (non-smau) works too!

So Hot🔥🔥

Happy 1K!!! I would love it if you could write a little something for my fav Danny Ric 🥹 using some of the prompts, I was thinking of these ❛ if you want something, then you ask for it!’ ‘ Suck on it then’ and "Swallow it. All of it."

tattoo temptation | d. ricciardo

thank you anon!! your favourite is my favourite, so i loved writing this<3 i appreciate the submission, i hope you enjoy!

daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, light mention of thigh worship, oral (m receiving), praise, dom!daniel, swallowing.

you had been at this for what felt like hours. your fingers trace the intricate ink on daniel’s thigh, the black lines standing out stark against his tanned skin. you’re kneeling between his legs, your obsession evident as your lips brush over the edges of the design, just above where his shorts are rucked up.

“you keep staring at it like that, sweetheart, and i’ll start thinking you’re more into my tattoo than me,” daniel teases, his voice low and thick, amusement curling around the heat in his tone. his voice never fails to sen heat to your core, and you’d have him talking forever if you could.

you glance up, meeting his darkened gaze, your lips curling into a sly smirk. “maybe i am, maybe you should take the hint.”

he raises a brow, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your head back slightly. he knows you love his thighs, but you’ve been acting different tonight, he can tell your mood isn’t just because of his inked thigh. “if you want something, then you ask for it,” he says, his Aussie drawl sending shivers down your spine. it wasn’t something gentle and encourage, it felt like a disguised command.

your hand slides higher on his thigh, fingers just brushing the hard bulge beneath his boxers. “then I guess i’ll stop teasing,” you murmur, your voice dripping with mischief as you pull the waistband of his shorts down, freeing him from the constrains of his boxers.

his breath hitches as you wrap your hand around his thick length, your thumb circling the tip slowly, spreading the bead of wetness that’s already forming. you glance up again, your lips ghosting over the head as his hand makes its way in your hair, threading his fingers through the soft strands.

“don’t stop now,” he mutters, his usual cockiness tinged with desperation. you knew you were both on the same level now, instead of him being fully in control. you considered teasing even more, but you were just as desperate as he was.

you hum softly, your lips parting as you take him in, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding lower. his thighs tense beneath your hands as you hollow your cheeks, taking him in deeper.

“fuck,” he groans, his fingers tightening in your hair, guiding your movements without forcing you onto his cock. “you look so good like this, sweetheart. you were made to be right between my legs.”

you pull back slightly, your tongue teasing along the underside of his shaft before you look up at him, eyes half-lidded. “suck on it, then,” he rasps, his voice deep and thick with need, the command sends a thrill through you.

you obey him, taking him deeper this time as your hand moves to stroke what your mouth can’t take. the weight of him on your tongue, the way he twitches in your mouth, has heat pooling low in your belly. you exhale around him as you moan against his cock, revelling in the way he shivers.

“just like that, baby,” he pants, his other hand gripping the edge of the couch as you quicken your pace. his hips lift slightly, his control slipping as his breaths grow heavier.

you feel him getting close, his grip on your hair tightening as he mutters your name like a prayer. when his release hits, he groans low and rough, holding you steady.

“swallow it. all of it,” he growls, and the raw dominance in his tone makes you clench around nothing.

you do as he says, swallowing every last drop of his salty cum before pulling back, your lips swollen, a satisfied smile playing on your face as you look up at him, fluttering your lashes in the process.

daniel’s chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “you’re obsessed with just my tattoos, huh?”

you wink, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “i love everything down here, maybe it’s all just a good excuse to get on my knees.”

An absolute masterpiece 🔥🔥

A Naughty Gift | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas - Day 6: Secret Santa

warnings: 18+ content, use of vibrator, fingering, best friend!danny

— missed day 5? Read it here by @emchante

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The living room radiates warmth, the soft glow of string lights reflecting off ornaments carefully hung on the Christmas tree. A steady, crackling fire in the fireplace adds to the cozy atmosphere, its warmth mingling with the scent of pine and spiced mulled wine. The chatter of your closest friends fills the air, their laughter blending seamlessly with the holiday playlist humming softly in the background. 

The room is alive with anticipation. You’re seated on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, your legs curled comfortably beneath you. Around you, your friends settle in—some on couches, others sprawled on the floor with mugs of hot cocoa or cider in hand. The Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its base surrounded by an array of colourfully wrapped gifts, each tagged with a name. 

Tonight is the long-awaited secret Santa exchange, a tradition that never fails to bring laughter, surprises, and a few inside jokes to your closest group of friends. Two weeks ago, you all had drawn names from a bowl, each person tasked with finding the perfect gift for their chosen recipient. The mystery of who picked whom has been the topic of countless teasing conversations since, and now, the moment has finally arrived. 

You’re excited to see your friend’s reaction when they open the gift you picked out for them—an item you’d put serious thought into, sure they’d love. But there’s also a nervous energy bubbling beneath your excitement. You have no idea who drew your name from the bowl, and your mind has been running through possibilities all week. Will it be something heartfelt? Funny? Maybe even a little ridiculous? Only time will tell. 

One by one, the gifts are claimed and brought back to their recipients. Each present earns its own reaction—gasps of surprise, peals of laughter, or appreciative murmurs.

The stack beneath the tree shrinks as the night goes on, and the anticipation builds. Finally, it’s your turn. Your heart skips a beat when one of your friends plucks a medium-sized gift from the dwindling pile and passes it to you. The wrapping paper is festive but slightly crooked, as if the effort was rushed or the wrapper wasn’t skilled—it’s impossible to tell which. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at the uneven bow perched on top. 

Balancing the gift on your lap, you spot the tag attached to the ribbon. Beneath your name is a handwritten message in bold, playful script:

For when you need to unwind :) 

Your eyebrows furrow in curiosity. “I’m almost afraid to open this,” you mutter, pulling at the ribbon. 

With careful fingers, you peel back the wrapping paper, the brightly colored patterns giving way to a glossy white box underneath. The moment the text and images on the packaging come into focus, your breath catches in your throat.

Your gasp is audible—and immediate.

Nestled inside is a vibrator, sleek and modern, its packaging professional and uncomfortably clear about its intended use. Your mouth falls open in shock, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the box, your mind blank.

The room explodes into laughter, your friends practically doubling over as they take in your reaction. You blush furiously, scrambling to pull pieces of the discarded wrapping paper back over the box as if that might somehow undo what just happened. But despite your embarrassment, a laugh escapes your lips, shaky and incredulous.

“Seriously?” you managed, your voice slightly higher than usual as you hold up the box—stil half-covered in the wrapping—for emphasis.

“That’s the next best option if you’re not getting laid!” one of your friends teased, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, burying your face in your hands for a moment before peeking back out at the chaos around you. 

The laughter continues, the jokes coming in waves. 

“Looks like someone’s trying to do you a favour!”

“Now you have no excuse to be cranky.”

You can’t help but laugh along with them, even as your cheeks burn. This wasn’t entirely unexpected; for months, your friends had made a running joke about your supposed sexual frustration. Anytime you were stressed or snappy, the solution was always the same: “You just need to get laid!”

Still, you never imagined getting such a gift from a secret Santa. 

Once the initial uproar dies down, you look around the room, trying to pinpoint who might have been bold enough to give you such an obscene gift. Your friends are still chuckling, tossing jokes back and forth, but as your gaze sweeps over the group, it lands on Daniel, seated across from you. 

Unlike everyone else, he isn’t laughing. His lips curve into a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you, unbothered by the chaos around him.

Your eyes narrow, suspicion flaring. “Daniel,” you say, your voice sharp enough to cut through the lingering laughter.

The room falls silent, everyone turning to look at him. His smirk deepens, and he leans back casually in his chair, his posture oozing confidence.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I thought you could use something to help you… loosen up a little.”

The room erupts again, louder this time, your friends practically collapsing into each other at the sheer boldness of his comment. You groan, shaking your head, but there’s no hiding the amused smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, your voice laced with exasperation.

“Unbelievable or thoughtful?” he counters, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“You know, I should be offended,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you?” comes his immediate response. 

“Still debating it,” you mutter, unable to stop the small chuckle that escapes.

The focus soon shifts as another gift is unwrapped, the group’s attention moving on, but your gaze keeps wandering back to Daniel. The box lies heavy in your lap, the weight of it grounding you in more ways than one.

It’s just a gag gift, you tell yourself, a harmless joke meant to get a laugh out of you. But your mind can’t help but circle back to him. Of all the things he could have picked, why this? And, more importantly, had he thought of you—truly thought of you—when he chose it? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, one you quickly dismiss with a shake of your head.

Needing a distraction, you rise to refill your glass of wine, letting the chatter of your friends fade into the background as you retreat to the kitchen. You’re pouring a generous amount when you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you.

“You might need more wine than that if you’re trying to forget about my gift,” Daniel’s voice drawled, the teasing tone unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m not trying to forget it,” you say, turning back to your glass. You lift it to your lips, letting the liquid warm you before continuing. “Just need a little liquid courage.”

“To use it?” he asks as he steps closer, his tone light but laced with insinuation.

You turn fully to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Who says I’m going to use it?”

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t,” he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.

Your heart skips a beat at his audacity, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt, “do you want me to use it?”

His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by something darker, something unreadable. “You’re always so stressed, so uptight. You’d be doing everyone a favour if you did.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his arm playfully. “I didn’t know my lack of… cumming was a group concern,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

His chuckle is low, almost a hum, but his eyes never leave yours.

Taking a sip of your wine, you decide to lean into the humour of it all. “Thanks for the gift, though,” you say, your tone light, playful. “Maybe this thing will finally do the job, considering everything else I’ve tried has been useless.”

Daniel’s expression shifts, his smirk freezing as his eyebrows lift. “Wait, what?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, and you curse yourself for letting that slip. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head as you try to sidestep him.

But his hand darts out, gently grabbing your wrist and holding you in place. His grip is firm but not forceful, and it sends a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“You’re not getting out of this one,” he says, his voice low, laced with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

You groan, tipping your head back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m telling you, of all people, this.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, feigning hurt but a moment later, his smirk returns, though it’s softer this time, less mocking and more intrigued.

You bite your lip, debating, but the words tumble out before you can stop them. “It’s not voluntary, okay? I just… I can’t make myself, you know… finish. Not with my fingers, not with toys—nothing works. And I’m not exactly dying to hook up with anyone, either.”

His grip on your wrist loosens slightly, but his thumb brushes against your skin, sending another shiver through you. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, before he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Well,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave, “if that’s the case, you’d better give me a review of my gift once you use it.”

Without thinking, without hesitating, you fire back, “Why don’t you see for yourself if it works?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you realize what you’ve just said. His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something darker, more intense.

His grip tightens slightly, anchoring you in place. The air between you shifts, thick and charged, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. But then, he steps closer, invading your personal space as his lips graze your ear. 

“Careful,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “I might take you up on that.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words settling over you like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you’re not sure if this is still a joke—or if you want it to be.

The thought had all but left your mind as the night wore on, the air filled with laughter, the buzz of conversation, and the off-key singing of your friends as they belted out holiday tunes. You’d allowed yourself to relax, to forget about Daniel’s provocative words and the gift itself. The glass of wine you’d poured earlier remained untouched on the countertop—a conscious decision to remain completely sober and avoid any further embarrassment in front of him.

As the night began to wind down, your friends trickled out one by one, each hugging you tightly and thanking you for hosting. The energy shifted, quieter now, though still warm and filled with contentment. One of your friends lingered before leaving, her grin mischievous as she nudged you gently.

“Don’t forget about your gift,” she teased, winking. “Tonight might be the perfect time to use it.” 

You laughed it off, waving her out the door, but her words lingered, stirring something deep inside your chest. As the door closed behind her, you let out a quiet breath and turned back to the living room.

Daniel was still there, gathering stray glasses and stacking plates with a practiced ease that made your stomach twist. He always stayed behind to help, his presence in your space as natural as if he belonged there. 

The last of your friends were slowly trickling out, bidding you their goodbyes with hugs and sleepy smiles. It wasn’t long before it was just you and Daniel, the sound of clinking dishes breaking the comfortable silence.

In the kitchen, you were focused on loading the dishwasher when Daniel came up behind you, balancing a few more plates in his hands. His proximity sent a familiar jolt through you, a rush of awareness that made it impossible to ignore him.

As he set the dishes down beside you, the memory of your earlier moment in the kitchen resurfaced and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought, and you stole a glance at him. It seemed like that moment was on his mind too. His expression was unreadable, but the silence stretched between you, thick and charged.

Neither of you brought it up, though, working side by side until the kitchen was spotless. 

He wandered back to the living room right before you, picking up his leather jacket from the couch. But as he moved to sling it over his arm, his eyes landed on the box still sitting on the cushion—the gift, untouched and glaringly present. His head tilted slightly, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to speak up, but the words left your mouth before you could stop them. “I was told I should use it tonight.” 

The moment the confession escaped your lips, heat flared across your face. You busied yourself with fixing the cushions on the couches, avoiding his gaze. 

Daniel chuckled softly, the sound drawing your attention back to him despite yourself. “Is that so?” He picked up the box with his free hand, his movements casual. “Are you going to?” He asked, tone laced with intrigue. 

He dropped his jacket back onto the couch, sliding one hand in his pocket as he waited for your response. Your heart was pounding now, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why you were even entertaining this conversation.

Daniel’s smirk widened as he toyed with the box in his hand, his fingers brushing deliberately over the edge of the packaging. His gaze flicked to you, then back to the box, and with a slow, deliberate step, he started closing the space between you.

“What’s the hesitation, huh?” he asked, his voice smooth, teasing. “Scared it’s not going to work? Or are you scared it will?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, your voice betraying the slight tremor in your chest.

“No?” He stepped even closer, the vibrator box now dangling lazily from his hand as his eyes roamed your face, searching for cracks in your resolve. “Then what is it? You just like edging yourself, is that it? Letting yourself get so close you can taste it… then ripping it away?”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively shook your head, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. “I don’t—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, taking another step until he was standing directly in front of you, the air between you thick and charged. “No?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’re telling me you spend your nights wound up tight, desperate, trying to finish but never quite getting there?”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could think twice. “I need to cum. So badly.”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, his gaze darkening as his free hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for just a second too long. “Then you should use it tonight,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “Get yourself off, let go for once. But…”

He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe what you really need is another pair of hands.”

“Daniel…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a protest or an invitation.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing smirk never leaving his lips. “Say it,” he said softly, the challenge clear in his tone. “And I’ll make sure you finally get what you need.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, time seemed to still. Daniel stood close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dark eyes locked on yours like he was daring you to make the next move. 

You nodded, the motion small but deliberate, your lips brushing against his as if testing the waters. The faintest whisper escaped you, desperate. “Please, Danny, make me cum.” 

That was all it took.

Daniel surged forward, his hand sliding around the back of your neck as his lips crashed against yours with a force that made your knees weak. The kiss was fiery, intense, and filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface all night. His other hand dropped the box unceremoniously onto the couch, coming up to grip your jaw, guiding your movements.

You gasped into his mouth as his tongue slipped past your lips, deepening the kiss. Your heart raced as Daniel’s mouth moved against yours, eliciting a hunger from within you that made your knees weak. His tongue teased yours, pulling soft, desperate noises from the back of your throat. 

Daniel’s hands found your waist, steady and firm as he guided you backward until the edge of the couch caught the backs of your knees. A gentle push sent you down onto the cushions, your breath hitching as he towered over you. His gaze, dark and filled with intent, flicked to the discarded box on the couch beside you. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for it, the tearing sound of the packaging loud in the charged silence.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers worked at the box with practiced ease, pulling out the sleek vibrator that gleamed faintly in the dim light. He held it up for a moment, his smirk deepening as he glanced back at you. “Strip for me,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made your stomach flutter.

Your hands moved instantly, almost on instinct, tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. You fumbled with the waistband of your pants next, your eagerness only adding to the heat building between you. 

Daniel knelt in front of you once you were bare for him. His hands found your ankles, warm and strong, as he pulled your legs over his broad shoulders, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The couch cushions dipped under your weight, but all you could focus on was the way he leaned in, the heat of his breath just inches away from your cunt. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to your glistening cunt rather than to you. “So wet already… Were you this desperate before, or is this just for me?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. Your throat felt dry, your body so keyed up you could barely breathe. He grinned, clearly pleased by your speechlessness, and leaned in just close enough that his breath ghosted over your folds. The sensation made you shiver, your body straining toward him of its own accord.

His warm breath fanned over your slick heat, and you swore you could feel every word as he spoke. “You’ve been needing this, haven’t you? So worked up, so desperate to let go.”

Your mouth fell open in response, a soft whimper escaping as his fingers slid up your inner thigh, his touch featherlight but enough to make you arch into him. Two fingers came to rest against your folds, spreading you gently. The simple act, something you’d done countless times to yourself, now felt like an entirely new experience under his hands.

He dragged his thumb upward, deliberately brushing against your clit in the faintest tease, a mere suggestion of pressure that sent jolts of electricity racing through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a soft, pleading whimper slipping from your lips.

“Daniel,” you breathed, your voice shaky with need. “Please, I need to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his tone smooth, teasing. His lips curled into a smirk as his thumb circled your clit again, just barely grazing the swollen nub. “Needy, aren’t you?” He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ve been so patient. Let me enjoy this for a moment.”

Your head fell back against the couch, your thighs trembling over his shoulders. The teasing was excruciating, his touch featherlight and agonizingly slow, keeping you on the edge without giving you the relief you so desperately craved. Another whine escaped you, and he chuckled again, clearly amused by your desperation.

“Do you know how pretty you sound when you beg?” he murmured, his voice low and rich. “But don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for. Me and this little gift of mine.”

Before you could respond, Daniel leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core before his tongue dragged a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds. The sudden wet heat of his mouth made you gasp, your back arching off the couch as he pulled back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke. “Perfect.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but there was no time to recover. He brought the vibrator into view, the sleek toy gleaming in the dim light. “Let’s see how well this works, hmm?”

He pressed the tip of the vibrator against your clit, still teasing, still maddeningly light. Then, with a click, he turned it on. The sudden vibration against your sensitive flesh was like a jolt of electricity, and you cried out, your hips jerking upward as pleasure shot through your body.

The sensation was familiar yet utterly foreign, amplified by the fact that you weren’t in control. You didn’t know what was coming next, couldn’t anticipate his movements, and it left you completely at his mercy.

Daniel pressed the vibrator more firmly against your clit, his eyes fixed on your face as he watched your reactions with a wicked grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re so sensitive, love. Look at how you’re shaking.”

Your legs quivered over his shoulders, your body trembling under the relentless stimulation. Just when you thought it couldn’t get more intense, his fingers returned, parting your folds once more. The wetness there made it easy for him to slide one finger inside you, then another, the intrusion smooth and deliberate.

You moaned loudly, your hands clutching at the couch cushions as the dual sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrator against your clit and his fingers inside you created a perfect rhythm, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Daniel,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pressure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter.

The vibrator hummed steadily against your clit, Daniel’s fingers curling inside you with a precision that made your back arch. The pressure built higher and higher, and you trembled, caught between the unbearable pleasure and the tension coiling in your stomach.

This was always the point where you faltered, the moment where the pleasure grew so overwhelming, so maddeningly close, only to slip away. Every time you’d done this to yourself, your fingers had failed to push you past that invisible barrier. It was like chasing a mirage, just out of reach, leaving you frustrated and aching for more.

The memory of all those failed attempts made your chest tighten. You bit your lip, your moans softening, and Daniel noticed the subtle shift in your body. His movements slowed slightly, and his dark eyes flicked up to your face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth and commanding, yet somehow soothing. His fingers stilled inside you for a moment, and he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your thigh. “Don’t go shy on me now. I can feel how close you are.”

You whimpered, your lips parting to speak, but Daniel didn’t give you the chance. His grin turned wicked as his fingers curled again, this time pressing deep against a spot that had your breath catching in your throat.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice low and filthy. “Dripping for me. You’re so tight, sweetheart—so desperate to let go. Don’t fight it. You’re mine to ruin tonight.”

The vibrator pressed harder against your clit as he notched up the intensity. The sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand, but Daniel held you firm, his grip possessive.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he stated, his tone dark and teasing. “Not until I’ve wrung every last bit of that tension out of you. I want to feel you shake for me, hear you scream my name.”

His fingers thrust into you with deliberate precision, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cunt. “You’re going to cum for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with sin. “And when you do, you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”

The vibrator buzzed relentlessly against your clit, and his fingers kept up their steady rhythm, hitting a spot that constantly made you see stars. Your body writhed on the couch, every nerve on fire, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“You like that, don’t you?” Daniel’s voice was a low growl, his lips brushing against your trembling thigh. “Being completely at my mercy? Taking exactly what I give you? That’s it, pretty girl. Stop thinking. Just feel me.”

His words broke through your haze of overthinking, and you let go, surrendering completely. The coil inside you snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

Daniel stayed with you through it, his touch unrelenting but steady, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were left trembling, spent, and utterly undone beneath him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs trembling over Daniel’s broad shoulders. The vibrator slowed but didn’t stop, sending smaller, teasing jolts through your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew carefully, and you whimpered at the loss, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks.

He straightened, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he lowered your legs from his shoulders, guiding them down to wrap around his hips instead. Rising to his full height, Daniel moved onto the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight as he hovered over you. 

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough as he braced one arm on the back of the couch, the other trailing down to grip your jaw gently. “Look at you, trembling for me. Completely wrecked—and I’m not even close to being done with you.” 

His gaze was magnetic, holding yours captive as his lips hovered just above yours, a breath away. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his hips brushing yours in a way that made you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him despite your exhaustion.

Your eyes widened as his words registered, your mind spinning as his intentions became clear. A fresh wave of heat pooled in your stomach, your body responding despite how utterly spent you felt.

“Oh, that’s right, sweetheart,” Daniel said, his lips curling into a wicked, filthy grin. “I’m going to make up for all those times you had to edge yourself, all the times you were so fucking close but couldn’t quite get there. That’s over now.”

He dipped his head, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw, his stubble scraping against your heated skin and leaving a delicious burn in its wake. His hand slid down your body, fingers grazing your waist before gripping your thigh possessively. “You’re going to cum on my fingers again, on my tongue, on my cock—over and over until you’re wrecked, until you can’t even remember what it felt like to want more. I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied, sweetheart.”

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping even lower, rough with desire. “And I won’t stop until you’re a mess beneath me, begging for mercy or for more.” 

Taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

This one is my favourite! I've re-read it a few times😍😍❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Soulmate | Carlos Sainz Ver.

WC: 4.8K

Csrlos x Soulmate!reader

Summery: Everyone can feel their soulmate's injuries and pain since the age of 15

Warning: None??

AN: Thank you for all the ideas. I just changed jobs, and it's a full time office job, so it's very demanding 🙄🙃

Max Ver. , Oscar Ver. , Charles Ver., Lewis Ver.

Masterlist

Carlos Masterlist

The world is built on the idea that soulmates are connected through their physical pain. Everyone knows that if you're injured or in pain, your soulmates feel the exact same pain. This can be seen as a blessing or as a curse. In one way, you know when your other half is injured, but it also brings shared vulnerability. Some believed it was a form of protection, a way for soulmates to be in tune with one another, even if they'd never met. 

Now, did you know about this from a young age? Yes, you did. Did that stop you from doing all those crazy things that caused you multiple injuries? No. You felt sorry every time, but you're just clumsy by nature. It was from the moment you could walk that you've been a klutz. Bumping into walls, tripping over your own feet, and misjudging the occasional stair, it was part of your life. Growing up, you've gotten used to the bumps and bruises that came with her natural clumsiness, but what took longer to adjust to was the knowledge that someone else felt them, too.

Your soulmate must be a saint because you've rarely felt any pain. Yes, through the years, there have been times when you felt real and strong pain, but it was few and far between.

In a world of soulmates that felt their soulmates through visceral pain, your soulmate did everything he could to never cause you pain.

And for as long as you could remember, you’d imagined what he might be like. Patient for sure, after all, he had to endure your countless scrapes and missteps. You wondered if he was the type to sigh and shake his head when he felt you stub your toe or if he was used to your clumsiness, so much so that it barely bothered him anymore. Whoever he was, you were grateful got him.

Your friends often teased you about it, especially when you had a particularly bad fall or ended up with an impressive bruise. “You really owe your soulmate an apology.” They would always joke. “He must be so fed up by now.”

You’d always laugh it off, but late at night you’d overthink. Did he really mind? Or was he out there somewhere laughing about it, too? What was his life like? Was he clumsy, too? You doubt it. He must be the complete opposite, composed and careful, someone who rarely felt pain unless it was coming from you. Maybe he was a doctor or an athlete, someone who needed precision and strength in his day-to-day life. Your imagination would always run wild, paining pictures of him in your mind. But no matter how many times you tried to envision his face, it remained just out of reach, like the hazy details of a dream.

The older you got the more curious you got, and it started eating at you. Who was he? Where was he? Some people met their soulmate early on, like your childhood friend who had found hers at eighteen. Others never found theirs at all, even though they shared the pain for their entire lives. You tried not to let it bother you too much, after all what could you do? If you’re meant to meet it’ll happen on it’s own time.

But still there was that nagging feeling every time you bumped your knee or accidently burned your hand cooking. You would wince and imagine him somewhere far away, gritting his teeth as he felt the same.

“Another one for you soulmate.” You muttered as you stumbled over a crack in the pavement.

For as long as you lived with the bond you’ve been the one giving the worst of pains, sending your soulmate injuries, most harmless, but you’ve also broken enough bones over the years.

It started as a dull ache, just beneath your ribs on the right side. At first, you didn’t think much of it, assuming it’s a muscle strain or maybe it’s something you’ve eaten. You shifted in your seat, pressing your hand against the spot as if to massage the discomfort away, but the ache lingered, stubborn and unrelenting.

Throughout the day the pain grew worse. What started as mild throb quickly became sharp, stabbing sensation, taking your breath away every time you moved, and you started to feel a fever coming. This wasn’t like the occasional bump or fall you’re used to, this is far worse than anything you’ve felt before. This is different, deeper, persistent and alarming.

By late afternoon, you couldn’t take it anymore, every breath felt like a knife twisting in your side, and no matter how you positioned yourself, it wouldn’t go away. Sweat was forming on your forehead as you tried to power through the pain, but something wasn’t right.

Could this be coming from him?

You never felt pain like this before, certainly not from your own body. Your chest tightened, if this pain wasn’t yours, then something is very wrong. The idea that your soulmate could be hurt, really hirt, it made your stomach churn. You could handle minor injuries, but this? This was different.

You rushed to the hospital, the ride to the hospital felt like an eternity. By the time you arrived, you were sweating and clutching your side, each movement like a dagger. You explained your symptoms to the nurse at the reception, your voice wavering with pain and fear,

They rushed you into an examination room.

“We’ll run some tests.” The doctor said after you told him your symptoms, his brows furrowed with concern. “It sounds like it could be appendicitis, but we’ll know more once we do an ultrasound.”

As the minutes dragged on, the pain sharpened, radiating into your chest. You clutched the hospital bed’s metal rails, your knuckles turned white as you waited. Nurses and doctors came and went performing the tests as quickly as they could. After what felt like hours the doctor came back.

“The tests came back normal.” He began, flipping through the papers in his hands. “There’s no sign of appendicitis, in fact, you don’t have an appendix.” That was news to you.

“What? I don’t have it? Is that normal?” You asked confused.

“It’s rare but it happens some people are born without an appendix.” The doctor confirmed, he didn’t seem too worried.

“But the pain, it’s unbearable, what’s causing it?” You asked and dreaded the answer you know the doctor is about to give you.

“The only answer we have is, the pain isn’t yours to begin with.” The doctor smiled sympathetically. His words hung in the air heavy. Your soulmate. He’s the one in agony, and you were feeling every excruciating second of it.

Carlos hasn’t been feeling the best the last couple of days, he thought he was tired from all the traveling and racing and training. It happens. But the moment he woke up he knew something was wrong, he had Free Practice today, so he just pushed through it. However throughout the day, he’s just been getting worse and worse. By the end of FP2 he knew he couldn’t just push it off, it wasn’t food poisoning, he was starting to burn up.

Carlos with his team went to the hospital so he’d get checked out. He sat hunched over in the waiting room, gripping his side as the pain flared up again, sharper this time. The medics had said it was appendicitis and a routine surgery, nothing major. But that didn’t ease the fear eating at the back of his mind. He’s used to pushing his body through physical discomfort, but never to the point of pain. But this wasn’t the type of pain you ignore.

He could feel the ache spreading and tightening like a vice around his abdomen. His hands were clammy, sweat was gathered on his forehead, and his breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. He’s been through a lot through his life, the crash here and there, the pain of his soulmate breaking a bone, and stubbing her toes and all the random bruises she seems to get randomly.  This felt like his body was on fire from the inside out, and it wasn’t just the physical pain that made his chest tighten.

It was her, his soulmate.

As long as he could remember, he had shared pain with you. The worst when you had broken your leg. And he’s grown accustomed to the random flicker of discomfort over the years, wondering what kind of person you are. He imagined you being clumsy, maybe even a bit absent-minded, but he never minded. In fact, it had always made him smile, knowing that somewhere out there, you were living your life and through those little jolts of pain you felt close to him.

But today, he was the one that was causing you pain, pain like you both have never experienced before. That realisation made him nauseous. How much of this were you feeling right now? Were you suffering as much as he was, lying somewhere clutching your side in agony?

Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow and closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the pain. He thought of you, his soulmate.

You walked out of the hospital room, walking slowly. Since the pain you were experiencing isn’t yours, pain meds will do nothing unless your soulmate takes some. You were clutching your side as you walked, not really paying attention, that and being the clumsy person that you are you bumped into someone while you were passing one of the waiting rooms. You stumbled before your knees hit the floor, hard. You winced, the same time someone else did.

“I’m so sorry are you alright?” An accented voice asked, you looked up to see a man with a moustache, he was dressed in red.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You replied instantly and took the man’s hand to stand up. You were unaware of the other Spanish eyes on you.

Carlos shared a look with his dad beside him, Carlos Sr. saw everything happen. He saw you fall and he saw his son wince when you did.

“Pinch yourself.” He muttered to his son, not taking his eyes off you.

“W-what?” Carlos frowned at his father’s words, but he didn’t wait Carlos Sr. pinched his son’s arm and you let out an ‘aw’ and held your arm where he pinched his son.

You frowned, not understanding what was going on with your soulmate.

“Are you hurt?” The man in front of you asked seeing how you held your arm.

“Yeah, soulmate.” He lets out an ‘ah’ in understanding.

Carlos’s eyes went wide when he saw you feel his pain, your hand went back to your side, the same he was holding, and even though he was still in pain he felt relieved, his heart much lighter and he couldn’t help but smile. His dad nudged him with a smile of his own. And Carlos stood up and went to his friend’s side. Gigi was confused why Carlos was coming his way, and why he was smiling when he had to go in for surgery in less than two hours. But he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at you.

You only noticed him when he came to stand beside the man you bumped into.

“Hi.” Carlos said simply and you frowned confused.

“Hi?” It came out as a question, you looked between the two men in confusion. “I’m sorry but i-“

You were cut off when you groaned as a wave of pain hit you, the same time as the stranger in front of you winced and held his side, the same side you’ve felt the pain. Gigi then knew what happened, and he too couldn’t help but smile, he looked at Carlos Sr. for confirmation and he just gave him a proud nod.

You looked at the new man who was holding his side, your heart skipped a beat. Is he? Could he? This is almost too good to be true. You bit your tongue slightly.

“Why are you biting your tongue?” The smooth voice of your soulmate asked, your eyes went wide, Carlos chuckled at the expression on your face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” This time it was breathless; your eyes didn’t move from his face as you took him in. He also was waring a red shirt, but he also had a hat on top of his head, covering parts of his face but your eyes met his, nonetheless.

“I’m Carlos.” Carlos said and put his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/n.” You said taking his hand, the rush you both felt is unexplainable. You felt warm, your heart was beating faster and you were tingling all over. “It’s really you.”

“It’s me.” Carlos said and you both didn’t let go of each other’s hand.

“Carlos, it’s better you go to your room.” Gigi said, once the nurse told them his room was ready. Carlos nods, but it takes him a few moments to let go of your hand and look away.

“Come on.” Carlos said and he leads you to his room following the nurse. Once the door is closed leaving the both of you alone, you turned to face him once more.

“I never thought I’d meet my soulmate in a hospital of all places.” You said and smiled.

“Really? With how much you like to hit the floor, it was more than likely.” Carlos teased, he took off his hat and ran a hand though his hair, it was so fluffy you wanted to run your hands through it.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You mutter suddenly not meeting his eyes, feeling guilty for all the pain you caused him.

“Hey, I didn’t say I minded.” He said but you still refused to meet his eyes, so he went on. “Every time I felt your pain, I knew you were out there somewhere, living your life and that I wasn’t alone, even if once or twice the timing wasn’t the best, is till cherished it.”

“Really?” You asked meeting his hypnotizing brown eyes.

“Really.” Carlos confirms, his smile is sweet and kind and warm.

“What’s wrong with your appendix?” You ask your hand itching to touch where you know he feels the pain most.

“I have appendicitis, will go into surgery in an hour or so.” Carlos tells you and feels himself riddled with guilt, knowing you felt the pain of his illness. “Why are you here?”

“Came to check if it’s my pain or yours I was feeling.” You could see the guilt eating at him. “I rarely felt pain coming from you, you’ve always been so careful, and here I am falling every day.”

“Guess we balance each other out.” Carlos said and you smiled.

“Guess so… also I discovered I’m born without an appendix.” You suddenly tell him and smile up at him.

“So we’ll match then.” Carlos laughed at the coincidence. You both stayed silent for a long moment, just basking in each other’s presence. “There’s so much I want to ask you.”

“Me too.” You tell him honestly. “Like why are you wearing red? It looks like a uniform, same with the guy I walked into.”

“It kind of is a uniform, it’s team kit, we’re required to wear it.” Carlos says and runs a hand over the back of his neck, he’ll have to explain what he does to you.

“Like a sports thing?” You asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, exactly that.” You mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, and you nod to yourself.

“What sport?”

“Formula 1.” You rack your brain over if you’ve heard of it before, Carlos saw the confused look on your face, he was about to answer your un asked question when someone knocked on the door. He called out for them to enter and in walked his dad and Gigi.

“You have to get ready.” Gigi said and Carlos sighed he was just starting to talk to you, you smiled at him.

“I’ll be here.” You promised and he nods.

“I’ll introduce you then. This is y/n, my soulmate.” He said is so proudly, smiling at you, a smile that you shared. “That’s Poerluigi, known as Gigi and this is my dad Carlos Sr.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you dad was here as well, it’s nice to meet you sir.” You say and go to shake his hand, Sr. smiles and shakes your hand.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Carlos Sr. said with a smile he gave you a quick one-armed hug while your hands were still clasped together. “Carlos has been anxious to meet you lately.”

“Papa.” Carlos Jr. warned his dad, he didn’t want any embarrassing stories to reach you before he even gotten the chance to officially sit and talk to you. Sr. winked at you and you giggled, Carlos gives you both a warning look, before you leave the room so they can prep him for surgery. Meeting your soulmate right before he has to go into surgery isn’t really ideal. The three of you were allowed to wait in his room once Carlos was wheeled out.

“So what exactly does Carlos do?” You asked, and that opened the flood gates. They told you about how Carlos Sr. is a rally driver, all his achievements and how Carlos decided to get into Formula 1, that he’s a driver for Ferrari. They showed you some videos of him on track, deciding not to share anything personal and leave it to Carlos to share and say what he wants to.

You in turn were asked about what you do, your hobbies, why you’re always getting bruised and just random talk. When Carlos is brought back in the room, he’s still unconscious, the doctor informed you that it went well and that he’ll recover in no time. Carlos Sr. went out the room to call his wife and inform her of Carlos’ well-being.

when Carlos wakes up, you’re all kicked out of the room for the doctor to check on him, before you’re allowed back inside. The doctor reconfirms that Carlos is okay and well and that he’ll be able to recover fast. Something he was happy to hear about.

“How are you feeling?” Carlos Sr. asked his son.

“Good.”

“I think the pain meds haven’t worn off yet.” You say, feeling not an ounce of pain through your connection. Carlos smiles at you and you smile back.

“You stayed.”

“Of course, I did.” You say with a pointed look, he’d be stupid if he thought you’re about to leave him when he’s going into surgery, no matter how easy it is.

Gigi takes a picture of both Carlos’s for Instagram, for the fans. He did manage to snap a few of you both, but those were private, for now at least.

“Where are you staying?” Carlos asked and when you gave him your hotel room, he laughed.

“What?”

“You were so close all along.” Carlos says and he smiles thinking about how even if he was okay, you properly would’ve met. “I’m staying there too.”

“Guess fate intended for us to meet one way or the other.” You smile at the thought, you’re mean to be, and you were bound to meet.

Carlos is required to spend the night, and his dad decided to stay with him. Meaning you and Gigi went back to the hotel, and agreed to meet in the morning so you could head back to the hotel together. In all of the rush of things, you forgot to ask Carlos for his number, but Gigi gave you his number for the meet up in the morning.

can you send me Carlos’ number? 😊

Gigi

Sure 😉

You ignore the winky face and save Carlos’ number once you received it.

Stop moving around so much 🤨

Soulmate ❤️

sorry, I can’t find a comfortable spot to sleep

ask the nurses for painkillers if you’re in pain

Soulmate ❤️

I’m alright, it’s not too bad

Do you feel pain? If you want I can take pain killers for you.

no I’m good, it’s alright

I can feel you

Soulmate ❤️

I can’t feel you

do you want me to pinch myself or something?

Soulmate ❤️

No, now the tables are turned.

I guess so

Soulmate ❤️

what?

im sad that you’re the one in pain

That’s my job in the relationship!

Soulmate ❤️

Relationship? 😏

You felt a blush cover your face; you want to cover your cheeks even though he can’t even see you.

I think that’s enough for today

you should go to sleep.

Soulmate ❤️

fine, I’ll let it slide

this time

see you tomorrow, hermosa’

see you tomorrow.

The next morning you meet up with Gigi, who had a bag of clothes for both Carlos’s. the drive to the hospital you spent talking about unimportant things. When you got to the hospital, Carlos Sr. took the bag and went to change, and Gigi excused himself to go get coffee.

“How did you sleep?” Carlos asked you.

“I slept alright, how about you?” You asked glancing to where they did the surgery.

“I slept better than ever, dreaming about you.” You couldn’t fight the blush and turned your head to the side, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. “Don’t hide your face from me.”

Carlos moved so his feet were dangling off the bed, he wanted to walk up to you and pull you in close. He hasn’t been able to hug you yet, and he wants to desperately. Carlos puts his hand out and you walk closer to him, you put your hand in his and he pulls you closer. You’re standing between his legs; Carlos doesn’t wait and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You stand frozen for a moment before you lean into him, your arms much closer around him than his around you. But you lean your head onto on his shoulder.

“I wanted to do that since I saw you.” Carlos mumbles, his voice coming out right next to your ear, making you shiver.

“Only this?” You ask, now that you’re face is hidden, you found the confidence to say that to him.

“If we weren’t here, I’d show you all the things I want to do to you.” Carlos whispers and kisses right under your ear, you close your eyes basking in the feeling of him around you.

“Could have waited until I wasn’t here.” Carlos Sr. says coming out of the attached bathroom. You pull away from Carlos and your blush is back. Carlos only chuckles and rolls his eyes at his father.

Carlos changes and comes out, him and his dad start talking in Spanish, you sip on the coffee Gigi has gotten you checking your notifications on your phone. You look up when you feel the conversation getting a tad bit heated, Carlos is standing in a pair of jeans and his team kit his hat is on the bed.

“Why are you in your team kit?” You ask confused, Carlos Sr. moved his hand in your direction, indicating to his son to tell you what’s going on.

“I’m going to the race today.” Carlos said and you frowned.

“Why? Are they making you go?” You asked seeing no reason for him to be anywhere, but back in the hotel and resting until his flight.

“No, but I want to be there.” Carlos said simply and his dad muttered something under his breath.

“You just got a surgery not even 24 hours ago.” You say standing up.

“I know, but like I told papa, I want to go be there for the team, and I won’t be doing an media or anything, it wouldn’t be different than me staying in the hotel.”

“Doubt it.” Sr. mutters. You think for a moment, not liking this at all.

“Okay, but remember I feel your pain, at the first sign of it we’ll be out of there.” You tell him with a pointed look, daring him to disagree.

“Okay, fine.” Carlos says and Gigi smirks.

“I like this one.”

Both Carlos Sr. and Jr. walked to the motorhome first, and you and Gigi followed after, you had a Ferrari with 55 hat on, your head was done as instructed as you followed the man in front of you. There has been a dull pain in your side as the pain killers wore off, but it wasn’t too bad so you said nothing. Getting to the garage, Gigi sticks to your side and shows you around, Carlos is busy, which isn’t the resting he said he’d do.

Gigi soon introduces you to Alex, Charle’s soulmate, you both talk about your soulmates. Unlike you she knew about Formula 1 before she dated Charles, but her knowledge was limited before that. She was super nice to you, as she explained a few things about the race, she also pointed out where Carlos is in the garage. You may have known him for so little time, but seeing him work, showed you a different side to him. He’s very dedicated and clearly loves what he does.

You find yourself in the back of the garage in a staff only area, it’s like a cafeteria. Carlos was standing to the side eating from a plat in his hand while you talked with Charles and Alex.

Carlos drops his fork on the floor and in a reflex move he bends to pick the fork up. Your side suddenly flares up and you gasp clutching your side. Both Charles and Alex look at you in concern.

“It’s Carlos.” You tell them and move to get to your soulmate, when your clumsy self decides to hit the side of a table with your hip making you stumble and now hold your hip. Carlos curses and he moves to get to you only ending up hunched over from the strain he puts to his side.

“You both, need to stop moving!” Carlos Sr. says and goes to see Carlos and make sure he hasn’t popped a stitch or something. Charles and Alex were at your side pulling you up.

“You are clumsy.” Charles says with a teasing smile, and Alex hits his shoulder, giving herself the same pain, but it makes him stop.

“Made for each other you two.” Carlos Sr. says and you and Carlos meet eyes, you both smile and chuckle, this recovery is going to be harder than you both expected.

It took you two weeks to allow Carlos to do any kind of kissing, and still, you stayed away from his side when you did. Carlos had you in his home to get to know you while he was in between races. He just came back from a race that he won, first winner of the season, that isn’t Max. it took more than usual out of him, which was understandable. But now that he was cleared to race, here you were on his bed, him leaning on the headboard and you in his lap, kissing. I never felt this good. Every bite ever suck was felt by the two of you. It left you gasping and moaning for more. Both your lips are puffy and bruised, Carlos moves his lips to your neck in wet kisses before he finds your sweet spot that had you moving over him. He groans and starts sucking, so lost in the moment.

The next day you wake up first and head to the bathroom for a quick shower, Carlos hears the water and wakes up. He walks in the bathroom and stops when he sees himself in the mirror, he lets out a curse. You poke your head out hearing him curse.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and he turns to show you his neck, you burst out laughing. “

“But it looks good on you.” Carlos almost whined and you couldn’t help but continue laughing.

“Well did you come into here to stare at yourself in the mirror, or?” You asked raising an eyebrow before turning and getting back under the shower head. Carlos forgets all about the hickeys covering his neck, collarbones and chest. He did a number on you last night.

Let’s just say it was easier for you to cover them than Carlos. The next race, the fans spotted them fast.

“Looks like you had a fun night.” Jensen commented while interviewing Carlos with a knowing smirks on his face. “Wild girl?”

“Uh no, I wouldn’t sag that. I did them myself.” Carlos admitted his face warming up a bit. You watched the interview from the sides, your neckline and hair covering up all the bruises he left on you.

“Did them yours- oh, oh, congratulations, mate.” Jensen bro hugged Carlos, realising what he meant. “We all had to learn where to stop.”

You rolled your eyes bit still smiled, Carlos already knew where to stop, evident by the fact that more bruises ended right under his neckline.

It was all just a time thing, with your clumsiness and Carlos’s love of kissing. But your identical bruises caught on cameras, as well as you hitting something and Carlos reacting was a sign enough for everyone that you’re his soulmate.

Main Taglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life .

This one is perfect and sad. I need a part two!😢😢

i’ll be watching you (every step you take) — carlos sainz

pairing | carlos sainz x leclerc!reader

word count | 3.1k words

content warnings | forbidden romance, age gap (reader is 24, carlos is 30), lots of crying (on both ends), charles is not the best brother to reader, brief mentions of anxiety & depression, ANGST

authors note | this in no way is to put any negative light towards charles, it is merely fiction and no way depicts the friendship he has with carlos or his personality in general. so sad seeing carlos leave and writing this just made me even more sad so…beware if you can’t handle angst rn </3

navigation. | requests — open | main masterlist.

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THE FINAL RACE of the 2024 season was going to begin in just a few hours but all Carlos could think about was you. Only a few hours left to be around you and then you’d no longer be in his sight like you usually were every race week. He wasn’t thinking much of his last race with Ferrari, yes he was sad about it but it was you who was invading his thoughts.

You’d no longer be there to offer some words of wisdom when he had a bad week. You’d no longer be there with a cup of coffee and baked goodies to debrief with each other. Carlos would tell you all about the race and what was going on from his end and you’d tell him any gossip you heard around the paddock. The secret handshakes you had no longer would be there as he’d be in the Williams motorhome and you’d be in the Ferrari motorhome way up front; supporting your brother.

“Charlie, please just hear me out. I could make this work with him and it won’t interfere with—.”

“No! Absolutely not we agreed you’d never date any of my friends especially those on the grid. I don’t want you with him. Why are you telling me all this now?!” Your older brother Charles paces back and forth in your hotel room.

“I-I…I love him. Why can’t you be happy that I found someone who treats me right and will love me too? Don’t you want me to be happy?” Charles knew you loved Carlos he could see it since day one. You had stayed away from the limelight as he entered Formula one and went to study abroad in England until you quit school in 2020. You no longer wanted to be a doctor but decided to open your own cafe.

Your dream to be a doctor was to somehow level up on your siblings who were successful. But you didn’t want to spend your life in a career you didn’t love. Baking was your passion despite your brother thinking it was a silly hobby. Your Maman was happy with whatever you wanted and your twin Arthur supported you. So did Lorenzo, but it was Charles who never showed interest in your dreams despite being his biggest fan growing up. Once he got into Formula One the bond you had with him drifted away.

You didn’t attend his first race in Formula One and ever since then you only visited for Christmas in which Charles mostly ignored you. You never understood why he was so mean to you when he’d vowed to protect you when you lost your Father a few years ago. You were daddy’s girl and losing him caused you to close yourself off to ever let someone into your heart that wasn’t family.

After quitting school you took up an internship with Charles in managing his social media. He used this to his advantage to try and convince you opening your own cafe would be a mistake and you could do greater things. He begged for a year and you ended listening to him and taking up a full time position for the Ferrari social media team.

You wanted your brother to be happy, but when would it be your turn?

As you were involved setting up videos with the two teammates you began growing a close friendship with Carlos. A close friend to your brother and teammate but they definitely had their fair share of moments on the track that left you picking up the pieces. Carlos never showed the frustration or anger towards you. Instead he would invite you out to golf (better yet teach you since you were terrible golfer) or even invite you to Spain during the breaks so you could spend time together and with his family.

“Be happy with someone else. You can find anyone why my teammate?”

“He won’t be your teammate next—.”

“No! Don’t use that to somehow justify you two could work out. It won’t work out…not if you want to lose me.” His words hit you and snaps you out of any thoughts of Carlos you had going on.

“Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par là? (what do you mean by that?)” You question, your chest feeling heavy at what his response may be. Lose him? You can’t live without your brother in your life despite the distance you’ve had in the last few years. But getting a job in Ferrari has helped build that bond again.

With an unready expression from Charles he stares into your eyes almost trying to intimidate you, “Qu'est-ce qui compte le plus pour vous ? Amour ou famille? (What matters to you more? Love or Family?)” The question destroys any poker face you had and your lips tremble trying to keep calm.

“Ce n'est pas juste, Charles. La famille, c'est l'amour ! J'aime ma famille. (That's not fair, Charles. Family is love! I love my family.)” You try defending yourself from the question, or more so the threat he was making.

“D'accord, tu as raison, alors... Carlos ou moi? (Okay you are right so...Carlos or me?” The question was mean, Charles knew that becuase he knew what you would decide. You were a ride or die for your family even if they didn’t always do the same for you. You could never imagine choosing someone else other than your family but Carlos…you really love Carlos.

“Please, Charlie that’s not fair. Don’t do this to me please, please, please…Je l'aime. Il me rend heureux. Il est tout ce que j'ai toujours voulu. (I love him. He makes me happy. He's all I ever wanted.)” You were close to begging on your knees, hands pleading with your brother but he stands there with a stoic face despite his heart breaking to pieces he’s causing this pain to you.

“We can make you happy. Family can be enough. You choose us and we’ll make more of an effort…quit the social media job and open your cafe. I’ll help you open it up anything to make you happy. Carlos won’t be a stable person to be in a relationship with look at our schedules we have all year? Don’t you want something stable?” His words spit out so easily, like he’s had it rehearsed. He felt so conflicted saying all this because he respected Carlos, he loved him as a close friend. But he couldn’t risk losing his sister to anyone.

He had to protect her and being in a relationship with someone as busy as Carlos wouldn’t work. His relationships barely worked out so he knew firsthand. He was going to protect you like he had promised you when your Father had passed. He promised his father he’d step up and watch over you.

You sit on your bed staring down at the comforter in silence as Charles gives you a kiss on the head, “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow and you can tell me then what you decided. I love you, cherie.” He walks out of your room without another word.

See you tomorrow morning, hermosa. Everything will be okay. Te amo.

You read Carlos’ text and send a quick heart reaction before shutting your phone off and laying in your bed to deal with the decision you had to make. It was made already. The thing was how were you going to say it out loud? How do you tell someone you don’t choose them?

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Morning comes around you’ve barely slept at all throughout the night tossing and turning. Carlos is walking into your room with coffee and croissants ready to go over the day with each other. A routine you’ve had for two years now ever since this…relationship formed. You give your best smile as you let him talk about his final day with Ferrari whle you listen he could see something is off. As he nears the end of the conversation he sees you fiddle with your thumbs a force of habit you did when you were anxious.

As he finishes you both sit in comfortable silence and as the time goes by you bite your lip suppressing a sob aching to cry out. Carlos breaks the silence with a deflated sigh, “It’s Charles, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You whisper before letting out a choked sob and he quickly pulls you onto his lap holding you as tight as possible. You tangle your arms around his neck letting yourself cry in his arms for what may be the last time. This would be the last time you feel him this close to you. This may be the last time you ever talk to each other.

As your breathing calms down your face lays on his chest listening to his heartbeat…each beat registering in your mind. His heart that he says beats for you now breaks with each beat, he knew it wouldn’t be him if you had to choose.

Carlos didn’t blame you, he knew you were a family girl. He knew you had a heart that bled for your family even if they didn’t appreciate you. You would do anything for your family especially Charles even if it meant costing your own happiness in the process. You were close to your twin Arthur but he’d been so busy with his own stuff and Lorenzo was older so you didn’t get to bond as much since he lived further away.

It was Charles who you held a close bond with, you looked up to him. He reminded you so much of your Father after he passed you were lost in your grief. Charles pulled you out of a dark hole you didn’t want to get out of but he made you fight. Your father made Charles promise to protect his younger siblings but especially you. You were tough and could protect yourself but you were also a sensitive girl who was losing her father. Her father who she was attached to the hip to until his final breath. You would give up your own happiness for your family and Carlos would do the same.

Carlos wipes your tears off your face kissing your cheek softly, “I love you,” His voice breaking as you nod your head and get off his lap after those words.

You had to create some distance or else this would hurt more than it already does, “It’ll pass.” You smile sadly at him, his big brown eyes welling up with tears as you remove the necklace he had given you as a birthday present the first year he joined ferrari. You had barely spoken to each other but he remembered your birthday fell during a race weekend and wanted to make you feel appreciated.

A necklace with a sun charm that had his initial on the back something you added after you started dating two years ago. He shakes his head and hands it back to you, “No, no please at least keep that. I want to keep mine so you keep that one.” His voice pleads and you nod your head putting it in your purse.

“I…I don’t know what to say, Carlos. I’m so sorry—.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay I know why and I don’t blame you. We love each other I know that but we also love our families and I…I probably would have done the same.” He gives a tight lipped smile, he was wrong. He would never do that because family would never give an ultimatum of choosing who you love or them. They would do it if they knew you were a bad person but you weren’t and neither was he. So why would Charles not let his sister be happy?

You grab your purse and walk towards the door, “I love you too. Always.” And without another word you walk out of his hotel room, and from his life.

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Celebrations begin all around you as Lando crosses the checkered flag and wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix but also winning the constructors championship. You try your best cheering for the Mclaren driver you’ve grown close to but seeing Carlos cross the checkered flag along your brother right behind him was enough to have you walking off to the nearest restroom to wipe your tears away.

You walk back out once they’re out on the podium and as you look up you lock eyes with Carlos who had already been watching your every move. His pained expression watching you clutch your necklace as the british national anthem surrounds the track.

You feel a hand intertwine with yours and to your surprise it’s Reyes, Carlos’ mom. Her gentle smile was more than enough to tell you she knew what went on earlier with her on and despite breaking his heart she was there consoling you silently in the crowd. “He’s going to be a world champion one day. And i won’t be there to see it.” You whisper softly enough for her to hear.

“He’s not winning anything without having you there with him. He loves you too much to not have you there to celebrate his biggest victories. He’ll wait for you. Go do what you have to do, querida. I know you’ll see each other again.” She encourages you, you look up one more time to Carlos who was spraying Lando and Charles. His eyes meet yours one more time and with a simple nod he gives you a quick nod back.

You’d be there for each other; from afar. Every step you take you’d be watching each other.

You watch him give a speech to the entire ferrari team including your brother who was watching you like a hawk. Your eyes remained on Carlos wherever he moved as he hugged everyone and tears started filling almost everyone’s eyes. Except your brothers.

Carlos reaches you after giving everyone hugs and to the rest it may seem like a simple interaction but if only they knew as Carlos arms wrap around your waist and your arms snake around his neck you held onto each other like you never wanted to let go. Silence fills the room as a few members walk out to pack up and only Carlos’ team and family wait for him.

Charles walking up to break the hug, “Sœur. Nous devons y aller maintenant (Sister. We have to go now)” He refuses to make eye contact with either of you, guilt filling his chest. Before you could look back up at Carlos your brother has already dragged you out of there.

Every step you took you felt further and further away from him. You have to live with that.

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“Yes, I’ll be there in about 20 minutes. Sounds good.” Carlos hangs up the call, walking the streets of London he enjoyed the cool air hitting against him. He’s going into his second year with Williams and he could see the improvement the team has made and think he’s got a good shot at the wdc this season which starts in just a few weeks.

A year without you had been the slowest year he has lived. He was so used to never keeping track of the time or days when he was with you. Now without you he was mostly filled with silence on days he wasn’t with the team or family.

His friendship with Charles grew stronger after he left the team despite knowing he was the reason you weren’t together. Charles thought he got closer to keep tabs on you but it was quite the opposite. Since that night you hadn’t heard from each other at all, the only thing keeping you connected was the necklaces you kept.

His star chain hanging on his neck was worn at all times and questions were asked if there was a significance to it which he would reply with it was a cool chain. The meaning would always be between the two of you, it’s the one thing you could both keep as yours.

Charles lived with the guilt every single day despite him being a better brother to you and supporting what you wanted (except your relationship with Carlos). He still had his days but he’s been one of your biggest supporters when you had opened your cafe. You still felt betrayed he made you choose but in the end he was your brother, you could never be mad at him. He was your best friend.

“Have a great day!” You smile at your regular customer who has picked up their order just now. Your cafe had been gaining popularity after a few months of being open and you couldn’t be anymore grateful. It was noon and that is when you get the most busy so as you help ring up customers you don’t feel the eyes on you staring from across the street.

Carlos stands across the street from where your cafe is, seeing you through the display window a smile adorned on your face he couldn’t help but cross the street. His heart beat picking up as he got closer to you and standing at the window he looks up at the name.

Café Étoilé

“You’re my sunshine. You brighten my whole day just looking at you.” Carlos sighs contently as you lay your head on his chest. You giggle at the nickname and smile up at him, “Well you’re a star so that makes you my star. My starry eyed man,”

“Starry eyed?”

“Yeah. Your brown eyes are my favorite feature of yours, they’re starry eyed.” You tell him, staring the obvious.

“I love it.”

You named the cafe after him, in a way that Charles couldn’t say no because he didn’t know the nicknames you shared together. This was yours. No one else’s.

His smile meets his eyes watching you do what you loved, it was enough for him to realize that despite not communicating in over a year you’d always have a special place in each other’s hearts. For now you’d watch each other from afar and celebrate your accomplishments in that way.

You finish ringing the last customer up apart of the rush and you feel the need to look out your window feeling a pair of eyes on you but as you look up you find nobody except stranger walking along the street. Instinctively your hand grips your necklace and trace over the engraving of Carlos’ name.

Your love for each other did indeed not pass.

This one is so sad and soft. It's perfect💖💖💓💓

The World Can Wait

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: no matter whether he’s wearing Ferrari red or Williams blue, standing on the top step of podiums or fighting for points, you’ll love Carlos through it all

The podium is eerily quiet now. The lights are dimmed, the bright flashes of cameras long gone, and the chaotic hum of celebration has faded into nothing. The night wraps itself around the circuit like a heavy blanket, but Carlos is still there. Sitting cross-legged on the podium, the silver P2 trophy rests beside him, untouched.

You find him like this after weaving through the empty paddock, the distant sounds of dismantling garages growing fainter as you near him. At first, you’re hesitant. You stop at the base of the podium steps, watching him from the shadows.

His head is tilted back, eyes fixed on the sky, though you doubt he’s really looking at anything. The set of his shoulders is tight, his elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t notice you.

“Carlos,” you say softly, almost unsure if you should disturb him.

He doesn’t startle. Instead, his gaze drops, and he looks at you. There’s something hollow in his expression, a weariness that no trophy can mask. He doesn’t say anything, just gestures faintly with his hand for you to come up.

You climb the steps slowly, the sound of your shoes against the metal breaking the heavy silence. When you reach him, you hesitate again, standing just a few feet away.

“Are you okay?” You ask, careful, your voice low.

He exhales sharply, almost a laugh but not quite. “Am I okay?” He repeats, shaking his head. He leans forward, running both hands through his hair. “I don’t know, cariño. I don’t think I know how to answer that.”

You lower yourself down beside him, close enough that your knees brush. The chill of the night air seeps into your skin, but you ignore it, your eyes fixed on him. “Talk to me,” you urge gently. “What’s going on in your head?”

He doesn’t respond right away. For a while, the only sound is the distant murmur of the city beyond the circuit. Then he sighs, deep and heavy, as if it’s been trapped inside him all night.

“I’m just ... taking it all in,” he says finally, his voice quiet, almost broken. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stand up here again.”

The weight of his words sinks into your chest. You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm. “Carlos, don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“But I don’t know that I will, either,” he counters, turning to look at you. His dark eyes are glassy under the dim lights, his jaw tight. “It’s Williams next year. Williams. You know what everyone is saying. You know what they expect.”

“Forget what they expect,” you insist. “This isn’t the end for you. It’s just-”

“-a step back?” He interrupts, his tone bitter. He shakes his head again, lips pressing into a hard line. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it? That it’s a ‘rebuilding year,’ a ‘fresh start.’” His voice drops, softer now but no less anguished. “But what if it’s not? What if this really is the end? What if I’ve peaked, and it’s all downhill from here?”

Your heart twists at the vulnerability in his voice. You don’t know how long he’s been holding this in, how long he’s been carrying this fear. “Carlos-”

“Do you know what I thought, standing on that podium tonight?” He cuts you off, his voice thick. He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I thought, ‘This is it. This is the last time.’ I smiled, I waved, but inside I was just ... empty.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and he swallows hard, looking away from you. But you can see it — his hands trembling slightly, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

You don’t think. You just move. You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him into you. He doesn’t resist. His head drops against your chest, and that’s when it happens. The tears come fast, silent at first, then with a shuddering breath that rips through him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your hand threading through his hair. “Let it out, baby. I’ve got you.”

He clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, his arms wrapping around your waist. His tears soak through your shirt, but you don’t care. You press your cheek to the top of his head, rocking him gently. “Even if you never stand on another podium,” you whisper, your voice steady, “it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make you any less. It doesn’t make me love you any less.”

He stiffens slightly at your words, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are red, his face streaked with tears. “You say that now,” he says, his voice cracking. “But what if I can’t give you the life you deserve? What if I can’t be-”

“Stop,” you cut him off firmly, your hands cradling his face. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say you’re not enough for me. Carlos, you are everything. Do you hear me? Everything.”

His eyes search yours desperately, as if looking for something to hold onto. “Promise me,” he whispers. “Promise me you’ll still feel that way, even if ... even if everything goes wrong.”

“I promise,” you say without hesitation, your voice trembling with the weight of it. “On my life. I promise.”

He closes his eyes, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek. You wipe it away with your thumb, your fingers lingering against his skin. Then, slowly, you lean in, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing still uneven but steadier now. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” you counter, your hands slipping down to rest on his shoulders. “And if you can’t believe that right now, then believe this: I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He doesn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he pulls you back into his arms, holding you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. And maybe, for now, that’s exactly what you are.

The night stretches on, the podium still and silent around you. But neither of you moves. The world can wait.

This one is so cute!!!! I love it!💖💖💓💓

Smooth Operator (Carlos Sainz x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear a song when their close to their soulmate, the volume depends on how far or close to them you are. Carlos was sure his song was smooth operator, so why hasn't he found his soulmate yet.

People would spend their whole life hoping to meeting their soulmate. Some would meet them as entered any stage of schooling or some would run into them suddenly but the worst were those that spent their life preening their ears for the soft melody of their soulmate song. You never knew what the song was, it could be a song that actually existed or just a mash of musical notes that described the two people involved but there was one thing Carlos was sure of; smooth operator was his soulmate song and yet his love life was anything but smooth operation.

He had heard stories of how loud and melodious the music was when his mother entered his father's life, his sister's recounted time when they met their soulmate. Carlos was getting antsy. Until one day, during a race weekend, he had grown tired of the tune of smooth operator which he could hear playing faintly as he walked in to the paddock with Lando. "ugh, that stupid song" Carlos muttered. "What song?" Lando asked confused. "Smooth Operator" Carlos stated. Lando looked confused, "I hear nothing" Lando stated. Carlos's eyes widened trying to figure out where he should move to find his soulmate. In the frantic few minutes of Carlos running around the paddock like a headless chicken with a confused Lando calling out to him; the melody stopped just as it had started.

Y/N never thought she would find her soulmate, she was above the natural age most of her relatives and family had met theirs and she had given up hope on ever meeting hers. She was in a small store near an F1 race when she heard the faint sound of smooth operator playing. She chalked it down to it being played at the race because it was a running gag with Carlos, her favourite Formula One driver. Y/N wasn't able to secure tickets to the race and just enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the race from the entrance, retreating to her hotel to try and enjoy a F1 free vacation.

Carlos waited days and months to be able to hear the song again, but with all the travelling it wouldn't have been possible. He just wished he had tried harder and maybe than he would've met his soulmate by now. His spirit was wounded to say the least.

Carlos then proceeded to hear smooth operator a few more times, but the melody was so faint that anyone would've missed it. His ears had started to pick up on the song whether it was being played or not.

Y/N finally got tickets to a F1 race. She used to watch the races with her siblings and being able to experience it with them was a dream come true for her. They had packed their bag and headed off to Spain. Ever since she had landed, she could hear the faint buzzing of smooth operator. She chalked it up to being obsessed with Carlos that, that was she was hearing it. She had made beaded bracelets for him and her siblings had made posters for the track side. It was Carlos's home race and she was so excited to be able to see him race in his home turf. As she had only gotten tickets for the race day, she spent the rest of her time in Barcelona with Smooth Operator playing. She thought it was probably the song currently stuck in her head. A thought did cross her mind; what if it was her soulmate song, but quickly pushed it off since the volume didn't seem to increase of decrease constantly.

Carlos was on edge, he could hear the song playing over and over again, the melody taunting him. The volume had increased on Friday but had remained constant the whole weekend, making it difficult to communicate with his race engineer. This was really throwing his mind off track since he couldn't focus on anything but the thought of his soulmate being so close yet so far away.

It was race day and both Carlos and Y/N were getting ready for the day. Y/N held all the bracelets she made for the drivers and fellow fans in hand as she distributed it to her fellow 55ers. She hoped to meet Carlos as he drove in. A little while after she had gotten on the track, the volume of the song playing in her ears had increased. Was she about to meet her soulmate? was all she could think about as the volume kept increasing. Y/N kept an eye out for anyone, in hopes that maybe, just maybe. She felt stupid for hoping when never thought she'd meet her soulmate.

As Carlos's car halted to a stop in the parking lot, the song had gotten quite loud, loud enough to make it difficult to focus. Carlos was extremely excited by it. He hopped out of the car and started scanning the area for his soulmate. He walked around for a bit before proceeding to the fans when he felt like he would go deaf with how loudly the song was blaring. He looked around for anyone who was also being affected by it. And than he saw it. A girl who's eyes were frantically scanning the area. Carlos stumbled forward to stand in front of her and as their eyes met, they knew since the song suddenly stopped, like the whole world stopped. Y/N slipped a bracelet into his palm while Carlos tried to walk away, not to cause a big scene. Y/N pulled her siblings aside and told them what had just happened and they couldn't stop jumping in excitement.

He asked his cousin to help get the girl into the garage. His cousin was quick to get her and her siblings in. Y/N was anxious and worried and excited. She couldn't believe Carlos was her soulmate. What good karma had she acquired to have him as her soulmate, she wondered.

Y/N was ushered into the garage, Carlos was seen waiting, his hair a mess from running his hands through it so many times. The pair stood in front of each other, "Carlos" she whispered and Carlos took her in. Dressed in his colours with his number on her cap and looked at the bracelet in his hand which read, idc ur my soulmate. It was supposed to be a joke, but right now neither of them were laughing. "Not fair you know my name" Carlos spoke, breaking the silence. "Y/N" she laughed. "Can't believe it" she said turning around to stop herself from fan girling. "You better believe it because I'm here to stay" he stated. She turned around to look at him once more, taking him in, not Carlos Sainz Jr, Formula One driver but Carlos Sainz, her soulmate. "That bracelet was supposed to be a joke" she stated as she saw him put it on. "And now it will be something I will wear forever" Carlos said, kissing the bracelet on his hand. "I never thought I would meet my soulmate but it was totally worth the wait" she smiled at him with tears in her eyes. "I always knew I would meet you and I'm glad I didn't lose hope" he smiled back, wrapping her in his embrace. The pair stood there for a while before breaking away, "Gonna have to win the race to show you how good I am" Carlos said. "I know how good you are but a race win doesn't sound bad" she replied.

I love it. Forever in my heart❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Tender Fires

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, with a few hints of spice)

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: I'm back with another Maximus fic! This is actually part of a larger narrative in which Maximus escapes the execution attempt and ends up at reader's farm, where she tends his wounds and they fall in love but have to fight their feelings because he intends to leave to keep her safe. As always, this fic is written from the deepest longings of my lovestruck heart, and I hope that love is obvious :) Thank y'all so much for your kind words about the last fic, and I hope you enjoy this one!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“You’re up late.”

At your words, Maximus turns his head to look at you, and a soft smile crosses his lips. His features are etched in shadow, flickering with the dancing firelight.

He’s seated in front of your kitchen fire, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing deep into the flames as if searching for some hidden meaning within. You would never have known he was in here if you had not been awakened by the loud cracks of thunder outside and come in search of the warmth of the fire.

An autumn storm, a midnight fire, and the most captivating man you have ever known, dressed only in his plain white sleeping tunic. It seems like a combination intended to lure you into trouble.

As you move to sit in the chair beside him, he looks back into the hearth, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have stayed awake staring at many fires in my life,” he tells you quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you risk a glance at him, looking for the scar on his ribs. He has been with you for a little more than two weeks now, helping you with odd jobs around the farm as his strength returns. His wounds, though still vulnerable, have healed quickly, and you are relieved to see no signs of further injury on the parts of his skin that you can see.

“As have I,” you reply, eyes still lingering on him. “Though for me, it has always been the same fire. This one.”

He hums in response, nodding slightly. You have never sat by this fire together at night, and you are bewitched by the way the light dances over him, makes his golden skin shimmer. The lines of his arms and shoulders are limned in shadow, the firelight flickering on his handsome features.

You are overcome with a desire to put your hands on him, to feel the heat of his skin and the strength of his body, but you cast your gaze on the fireplace instead.

“I envy you that,” he answers softly, after a short reflection. He glances up at you, studying you intently. “A home fire, always burning in the same place.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you.

Every day, the thought of him leaving you is more painful. At the moment, as you sit close enough to listen to him breathing, the thought is unbearable. Your home is his home now, and you long — more than you have ever longed for anything — for him to realize that he belongs here.

His shadowed eyes search yours a moment more, then return to gazing at the flames.

You take a deep, steadying breath to calm yourself. Your hands are trembling, and you smooth them over your skirt, hoping he does not notice how nervous you are from this simple interaction.

“Tea?” you ask quickly, pushing yourself to stand and get a bit of space between the two of you.

He glances up again, and your heart clenches at the gentleness in his expression. He nods. “Thank you.”

Have his eyes ever seemed so wide, so earnest? Are you imagining the way his gaze lingers on you, drinking in every detail of the way you move?

You can feel the tension in the room thickening, your own heart beating faster as you fill the kettle with water and set the tea leaves to brewing. Somehow, sharing space with this man is so much more intimate at night, with a storm raging outside and a warm fire bringing extra heat to the atmosphere.

Even more astonishing to you is the fact that you are not afraid of this powerful soldier. He is strong enough to do anything he wishes to you, to take whatever he obviously wants. But even now, standing here in your night shift, with your hair and your defenses down, you have no fear of him.

If anything, you wish he would initiate a touch, a kiss, anything that would lead to the passion that has been haunting your dreams every night.

Such as your dream last night. You can still feel the sensation of your body thoroughly tangled with his, your limbs entwined, his hands pulling your skirt up to your waist. Your cheeks burn when you remember all the places he kissed in your dream, all the places he touched and explored and pleasured. Such thoughts make you ache all over again, especially now that you are standing so close to him.

A blinding crack of lightning, followed by the roar of thunder, pulls you from the dream-memory of his mouth hot on your throat.

To distract yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you ramble on the first topic you can think of. “My father used to tell me stories beside this fire,” you announce as you hang the kettle over the fire and settle back into the chair beside him. You don’t dare meet his eyes, even as a smile crosses your lips at the memory. “I always begged him to tell me ghost stories even though they frightened me.”

He tilts his head to the side to look at you curiously, a smile of his own playing at his lips. “What kind of ghosts do you have in these parts?” he asks, leaning on one arm of the chair to look at you more squarely.

Somehow, having his full attention focused on you is unnerving, undoing, arousing. You can hardly find the words to speak.

His eyes are still on your face as you feel a deep blush burning in your cheeks. You hope he will attribute it to the warmth of the fire, not your intense reaction to the way he gazes at you. If he only knew how much more heated you are by his presence.

“My favorite is the Howling Woman,” you blurt out, glad that your voice is not as unsteady as you feared. “She wears all gray, with her head covered. She’s been seen in these mountains for decades.”

He does not interrupt you, but your breath catches as his gaze wanders across your face. An absent smile is still on his lips, and he seems to be content to simply watch you, to let his eyes trace the lines of your face, your neck, your hair where it tumbles over your shoulders. His gaze is searching, admiring.

How will you find the strength to hide your desire when one look from him could bring you to your knees?

Clenching your jaw and willing the kettle to boil faster, you continue your story determinedly. “They say she was the wife of a farmer who was killed after being thrown from his horse. She found him with his neck broken.” You pause, still breathless from the effects of his undivided attention. “She went mad and drowned her own children. When she came to her senses and realized what she had done, she walked into the wilderness to die.”

You wait for him to interject, to ask some clarifying question or comment, but he does not. He is still leaning on the arm of his chair, his dark eyes captivated by the sight of you in the firelight. You can almost sense the way he is actively preventing himself from letting his gaze wander further down — where your shift does little to hide the shape of your figure.

But somehow, his watchfulness is not an act of seduction. He seems genuinely swept up in your story, spellbound by the sound of your voice. He listens to you intently, curiously, and waits for you to continue.

“But to punish her for her crime,” you continue, blushing even harder, “the gods cursed her to wander these mountains and valleys for eternity, never able to die and meet her family in the afterlife.”

It is the sound of your voice, you realize now. His gaze wanders over your features slowly, as if measuring them, but his silence persists the longer you speak. It is as if he cannot bring himself to interrupt you, so captivated as he is by your voice.

“She still walks at night,” you finish, finally allowing yourself to look deep into his eyes. There seems to be no end to them, no way to pull yourself out of the gaze that holds you captive. “She wanders, calling and wailing and howling.”

He swallows hard, licks his lips, though you guess he does so unconsciously. A shiver runs up your spine, and not from your ghost story.

You lean forward, just an inch or so, to finish the story. “They say you can hear her best on a night like this,” you whisper, and the silence between you is so concentrated that you feel you might choke on it.

His gaze flits down to your lips for a moment, and in this flickering firelight, surrounded by warmth and desire, you think he may kiss you.

The silence is broken by a loud crack of thunder outside, one that makes you jump at its suddenness. You both look away, realizing how intently you have been gazing at one another for an inexcusably long amount of time.

The tea in the kettle is boiling at last, and, glad for the distraction, you lean forward to take it off the fire. Your two cups are sitting on the table beside you, and you fill both before handing one to him. He nods his thanks, and the two of you sit quietly for a few moments, looking deep into the firelight.

He is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks softly, with that pleasant raspy quality you have come to recognize in him at night.

You smile and lean back in your chair to sip at your tea. “Of course,” you confirm lightly. “Don’t you?”

His expression grows quizzical, and he doesn’t lift his eyes away from the fire. He takes a sip of his tea, thinks for a long time before answering. You are more than content to sit in silence with him, but he finally comes to an answer.

“No,” he tells you quietly, still mesmerized by the dancing flames. Eerie shadows prance over his fine features. “Spirits do not wander the earth after death. They go to the afterlife.”

His voice is calm and even, but resolute, assured. You have talked so little with him about such things, and you cannot deny your curiosity at learning more about what he believes.

“How do you know?” you press, unconsciously leaning toward him.

He does not move for a moment, just grips his cup tighter and sharpens his gaze at the fire. “I have seen enough death to feel certain of it,” he declares, then turns his head to look into your eyes again. “If ghosts could exist,” he tells you softly, gently, “then I would be haunted by them every moment.”

Your heart aches for him now, for the pain and grief he carries with him always. His life has been difficult, laden with the weight of many lives and much responsibility. Even in a peaceful haven like your home, he is ever followed by the burdens of his past, no matter how much comfort and peace you have offered him.

“Perhaps they do not wish to speak to you,” you suggest, tilting your head to show that you are teasing him. “Perhaps you do not know all there is to know in the world.”

His haunted expression softens as he looks at you, taking in the meaning of your words. As before, his soft smile smoothes the lines in his face, lifts a bit of the weariness etched into his features. You can’t help wondering if he realizes your effect on him, if he craves these moments of tranquility and comfort as much as you do.

“I am sure of that,” he tells you in a low voice, and your heart turns over at the simple passion in his eyes.

You lapse into silence once again, each of you drinking your tea and losing yourself in thought. Your own ponderings are of him, wondering what he is thinking. He has seemed burdened ever since you found him sitting by the fire, and you long to know what worries him.

If he only knew how your heart leaps at the sight of him, how you long to cradle his face in your hands, to kiss him until all his burdens are lifted, until all he knows is this deep, all-consuming love that has swept over your heart like an autumn storm.

The thunder continues to roll outside, the rain pelting your roof relentlessly, but the warmth of the fire and the pleasant constancy of his presence is comforting.

You do not press him for several long minutes, letting him mull over his worries in silence until both of you have finished your tea. When you set your two empty cups on the table beside you, you finally decide to inquire, pushing your chair a few inches nearer to him and leaning on one arm of the chair so you can look into his eyes more closely.

“What troubles you?” you ask softly, and he finally lifts his head, dark eyes burning into yours with all the intensity of the hearth fire.

His voice is hardly more than a whisper when he replies, “Ghosts.”

“Memories?” you ask, entranced by the way he slowly leans forward, closing the distance between the two of you one inch at a time. Your skin suddenly burns, aching for a touch, one simple touch, that will answer your constant longing for his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, in which he seems to ponder the consequences of what he wants, he finally lifts one hand and trails his fingertips down the side of your face.

“Shadows of things I do not understand,” he murmurs absently, and he traces the line of your jaw with fingers so gentle you cannot imagine them ever wielding a sword.

He gazes at you more openly now, his eyes traveling down to your lips as his thumb brushes over them. You suppress a shudder at the contact, and he strokes your lips a few times, transfixed by the sight, before sliding the backs of his knuckles down the column of your throat.

Stars in the heavens, if he only knew how your body is aching for him, how you respond to the slightest touch he gives you.

You finally find your voice to speak. “Is it your men?” you ask softly, as if the room has suddenly been overtaken by a spell.

He sighs, brow furrowed deeply in thought. “They were not my men,” he replies at last, still stroking his fingers down your neck. “Not the ones who betrayed me. My men were loyal, courageous.” His voice is thick with sorrow, and you sense that recalling this memory is painful for him. “They were my brothers,” he half-whispers. “They would have risen up in rebellion if they had known.”

Your heart aches again at the sadness in his voice, the sadness he works so hard to disguise throughout the day. Somehow, in the darkness, in the stillness of nighttime, he seems more vulnerable.

“Why does the Emperor want you dead so badly?” you finally venture to ask.

His hand stills on your neck, eyes not quite focused on your face. He seems to be traveling back in time in his mind, and he draws a deep breath as he thinks. Almost as if he does not realize what he is doing, his hand wanders to the base of your neck, absently stroking the sensitive skin there.

It’s all you can do to hold still, to keep from betraying how perfectly wonderful his touch is to you.

His voice is low and measured when he answers your question. “I once received favor that he believed should have been his.” He pauses, then raises his eyes to meet yours meaningfully. “By his own father.”

His words take you aback, and you know he must notice your wide-eyed stare. “Marcus Aurelius?” you squawk in disbelief. “You knew the great Emperor?”

“Yes,” he replies, his face softening into a smile at the memory. You are shocked by the revelation, but his fond smile warms your heart after seeing his heavily burdened expression a moment ago. 

He presses on, though his hand is now running softly over your shoulder, skimming over the top of your thin shift. “I was young when he took me under his wing,” he explains, eyes tracing the path his hand is making on your shoulder. “I had won some small battles, and he saw in me potential for greater things. He made me what I am today.”

He strokes your shoulder once, gently, then removes his hand, as though he cannot trust himself to keep touching you there. Again lifting his deep blue eyes to meet your gaze, he looks at you so tenderly, so affectionately, as he raises the same hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You want to melt, to close your eyes and sigh in pleasure at his simple touch, but you fight for your composure. “He must have been a great man,” you manage instead, meaning every word.

“He was the greatest man I have ever known,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through your hair at your temple now. “He is the closest thing to a father that I ever knew.”

You have noticed how the man is drawn to your hair whenever you leave it down. He seems fascinated with it, with the way it cascades through his fingers when he cards them through it. His attentions are so gentle, so unobtrusive, as if he is unable to keep himself from simply admiring your beauty in this soft firelight.

“And that is why the Emperor envies you,” you observe to keep from losing your breath.

“Yes,” he answers quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “He believed that his father wanted to pass on his power to me.”

You nearly startle in surprise at his words. Not only the commander of the northern armies, not only a confidante of Marcus Aurelius, but the rightful future emperor himself?

You almost feel dizzy, though you’re not sure if it is from the shocking news or the way his fingers keep brushing your temple as he plays with your hair. “Did he?” you prompt him breathlessly, genuinely curious.

He ponders for several long moments, letting your hair stream between his fingers. You are entranced simply by looking at his features — his dark eyelashes, his sharp nose, the gentle creases by his mouth. He is so exquisitely lovely to you, so unaware of how deeply he affects you.

“I do not know,” he finally admits, tracing the side of your face before letting his hand fall back into his lap again. “He never told me.”

His words silence some of the shock you were feeling at wondering if you were in the presence of a man who was supposed to have ruled Rome. The thought of this man, this humble, honest, unpretentious warrior, ruling such a corrupt and conniving empire is almost unthinkable.

You are struck by the absence of his touch, and he seems hesitant to initiate any more contact now that he realizes how close he has drawn to you. He’s still watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction to his touches, but you cannot resist reaching out to him now.

Your fingers seek out the necklace that hangs down to his chest, a simple cord bearing two wolf’s teeth on the end. You have never asked him about its origin. You handle it carefully, and the man barely breathes as your hand hovers over his chest.

“What would you have done if all this had never happened?” you ask softly, caught in the intimacy of this quiet moment. “Would you have been a soldier all your life?”

Your question is a heavy one, full of unspoken desire and curiosity. You can tell he senses that desire by the way his dark eyes burn into yours, by the way his chest rises and falls more quickly, as if you are taking his breath away just by touching his necklace.

He thinks for a few moments, still gazing deep into your eyes. “I always imagined I would die in battle,” he tells you, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “There seemed no other fate in store for me.”

Your heart tightens, and you let go of your loose grip on his necklace. Suddenly, all you want to do is touch him, to make contact with his body somehow. His words have struck a chord in your heart, reminding you how grateful you are that this world-weary soldier has come to your home, to your hearth, instead of falling on a battlefield hundreds of miles away.

With your pulse racing, you press your hand flat against his chest, splaying your fingers over his heart. Even through the fabric of his nightshirt, you can feel his heart pounding like a war drum, perfectly in rhythm with your own.

Oh, how you long to press your heart against his, to be wrapped up in his arms, so thoroughly tangled with his body that you cannot tell where you begin and he ends.

His breath comes more quickly now, his lips parted and his eyes scorching yours with a hunger that stirs your blood.

“But,” he begins in a hoarse whisper, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up, “I did imagine, sometimes…” He pauses, licks his lips again, takes a slow breath, “that if I did have a chance to grow old… I might…”

He halts again, his voice dying in his throat. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, and his heart skips a beat beneath your hand. You can feel his skin burning hot under his shirt.

“Tell me,” you whisper, and a look of unadulterated desire flashes across his face.

He leans close to you, close enough that his breath skims over your lips. “That I might one day have a home,” he breathes. “A family.” He sighs softly, the longing in his voice especially evident. “A life of peace always seemed… unlikely.”

The hesitation in his words is palpable, and suddenly his own larger hand is covering yours, pressing it tight against his chest. You realize that he is relishing your touch the way you relished his a moment ago.

After holding your hand against his heart a moment longer, he grasps your hand in his, lifts it to his lips. Your own heart skips a beat now, when he presses a slow, languid kiss to the back of your hand.

“And now?” you whisper, breathless and tingling with need.

He breathes against your hand, slowly and calmly. “Now,” he echoes, his voice rumbling in your bones. “Now a life of peace seems impossible.”

No. No, he cannot mean that. He cannot still mean to leave you when his gentle eyes speak of the passion he holds for you.

“It does not have to be,” you insist, lifting your free hand to touch the side of his face. He actually sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips are slightly parted, and it takes all your willpower not to lean forward and kiss him until he can breathe nothing but your name.

His eyes remain closed when he responds, your hand still cradled in his. “To believe otherwise would be foolish,” he tells you, though his voice is anything but resolute. “Dangerous.”

You stroke the side of his face tenderly, enraptured by the way he reacts to your touch. He seems so relaxed, so overwhelmed when you caress him gently. The thought suddenly strikes you that this man has probably never been touched this way — not as light as a feather, with such love and affection that he can feel it beating in rhythm with his heart.

When you brush your fingertips down his neck, over the sensitive skin of his throat, he makes a sound so soft, so unguarded, that you nearly come undone for him right there.

“Are you not well acquainted with danger?” you whisper, leaning in closer to him. He opens his eyes when he feels you drawing nearer, and his fathomless eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You want him to stay. You want him to love you as you so desperately love him. You want him to never stop looking at you the way he is now.

And when you press your hand flat against the side of his neck, your gaze fluttering over every perfect feature of his face, his soul opens to you, and you see all the love you bear for him reflected deep in his own eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes, and he leans forward to close the few inches that separate your lips from his.

The first sensation that strikes you is his blood pulsing in his neck, hammering against your hand as you caress him. His own hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place while he presses his lips against yours.

There is no hesitation in this kiss, no second-guessing or reluctance. His lips move against yours in a rhythm so natural that you wonder if he has imagined this as many times as you have.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, drowning in your kiss like a dying man seeking air. You can feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, so unaccustomed to any attention as passionate as this. The man lifts his other hand to cradle your jaw, still kissing your lips, gently but insistently, over and over and over.

This is what heaven must be like, you realize distantly when his tongue slides against yours, every inch of your skin tingling in response. His undivided attention, his unashamed desire for you is so arousing, so delightful in every way.

You can feel your cheeks burning, your skin heating up, the longer his hands linger on your face and neck. His fingers stroke your jaw, and his other hand grips your hair just hard enough to hold you in place. He is still reveling in your kiss, still using his lips and tongue to draw out the softest moan you have ever made in your life.

As soon as he hears it, he moves his lips to press against the corner of your mouth, much as he did the first time he kissed you in the barn. He trails his lips down your jaw, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he passes.

Thoroughly excited by his kisses and touches, your mind is all too eager to provide any number of tempting images. When he dips his head to one side, lips touching the place where your jaw meets your neck, all you can imagine is the careful way he would undress you, lay you down, and make love to you, slowly and gently but passionately.

He drags his lips down your neck, his curious tongue coaxing another soft sound from you. Again, your mind flashes to all the ways he might use his tongue on you, all the places he could seek out and tease until you are so dizzy with pleasure that all you can say is his name, over and over.

Another press of his tongue, and it takes all your strength not to beg him to take you right here. You can imagine it so easily, the way he would grip your waist, your hips, the way you would wrap yourself around him and touch every inch of his bare skin if he would only give you the chance.

What would you not give to see him shudder in pleasure, to throw his head back and hold you tight as you cling to him and make him feel the same thing he ignites in you?

It’s at that moment that he whispers your name, tenderly, reverently, like a prayer, against the soft column of your throat. Your whole body shudders in response, your hands tightening where they have landed on his broad shoulders, and he finally fulfills what you have been aching for.

One strong arm wraps around your waist, the other around your upper back, and in the space of a breath the man has pulled you against him, leaning you to the side so that you are cradled in his arms across his lap.

You are suddenly very aware of how thin your shift is, of the way he must be able to feel every curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers are gentle where they wrap around your waist, and you feel with heightened awareness all the strength of his own body, all his powerful muscles and vigorous energy.

All you can do is sigh in pleasure as he keeps his head buried in your neck, still kissing your sensitive skin as though he cannot get enough of you.

You can barely take a breath, so overcome with the multitude of sensations he ignites in you. His hand flexes against your waist, and you respond in kind with your fingers digging into his back.

You have the distinct impression that the man is having to physically restrain himself from going further, that all he wants to do right now is yank open your shift and kiss his way down your bare body. As irresistible as that thought is, you let him take the lead, and he chooses to simply kiss you rather than ravish you.

He is a noble man, a man of honor, and though your body is aching for him to truly make you his, you take pleasure in his self-control, his respect for you.

His fervent kisses to your neck finally slow, and he breathes against your skin as though trying to memorize you. When he nuzzles his face against your neck, all you can do is close your eyes in absolute ecstasy. One of your hands finds its way into his hair, and it’s his turn to shiver with pleasure, pulling you even closer against his body and resting his lips against the curve of your neck.

He goes still in your arms when you stroke his hair, slowly and tenderly with your fingertips. Again, you are struck by his reactions to your gentle touches, by the way he melts into your arms as though overpowered.

Several long moments are spent in that position, with you cradled against his chest, his face against your neck. You would be content to stay like this all night, just listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beating against your side.

But the moment passes, as all moments do. Another crack of thunder shakes the house, and you can’t help but jump a little in his arms.

As if pulled out of his daze, the man smiles softly against your neck, strokes your back soothingly in a way that only serves to make you arch your body against his. A moment later, he lifts his head from the crook of your shoulder, letting his face brush against yours as you disentangle yourselves.

Though you have just spent the last few moments passionately embracing and kissing, and though both of you are still flushed and breathless with exhilaration, the following moment is not awkward. You do not look at each other as you part, but you can sense your own relief and contentment in him.

You do not know what will come of this. You do not know if he will stay much longer. But in a moment like this, with your lips still swollen from his kiss and your skin still burning from his touch, you feel as though no heartbreak can be as vast as this perfect fulfillment you feel with him.

You stand slowly, glad that you are not as unsteady as you feel, and you lift the kettle off the fire just to have something to do. You can feel the man’s eyes on you, though he does not speak.

“It is a fierce storm tonight,” you comment, almost without realizing that you are speaking. The silence between you was comfortable, but you long to say something, to know that he is still at ease with you.

He takes his time in responding, especially since you have your back to him. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice deep and husky.

Stars, how you want to hear that voice in your ear, in your bed, murmuring to you while you both reach the height of your shared pleasure.

You swallow hard to banish your intrusive thoughts. You move to set the kettle down in your cabinet and scramble to think of something else to say. Rain continues to pound against your roof, sending a slight chill through the air despite the warmth of the fire.

“Will you be warm enough tonight?” you ask over your shoulder, still conscious of his eyes burning into your back.

Again, he takes his time answering. “Yes,” he finally replies. “Will you?”

You let the question hang, still standing with your back to him. You hope he can understand your wordless answer, especially after sharing such an intimate moment.

The only warmth I crave now is the heat of your body against mine.

Still trying to avoid meeting his eyes, you half-turn to pick up your two empty cups from the table. Doing so makes you lean against the side of the little square table, and you notice with great surprise that it does not tilt dangerously to the side as it has for the last several months.

The table legs are perfectly even now, and you suddenly raise your eyes to look at the man squarely. He is gazing at you with the oddest combination of expressions — desire, contentment, admiration, sorrow, longing, affection, and several others you cannot name.

“You fixed my table,” you observe, genuinely struck by the kindness of his simple gesture. You don’t know when he did it, but sometime in the last few days he must have noticed the unsteadiness and taken the time to fix it somehow.

He holds your gaze for a long moment, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “It needed fixing,” he replies simply.

Your heart leaps into your throat, though you can’t say quite why. Despite the fact that just a moment ago you were wrapped up in his arms, sighing while he covered your neck with kisses, you are much more affected by his modest demonstration of kindness — fixing something of yours that was broken.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, returning his small smile with all the warmth blossoming in your heart.

You finish your task, setting the two cups in the cabinet to be washed tomorrow. The storm outside has quieted somewhat, but you can still hear the constant pounding of raindrops on the roof and walls.

Quiet thunder rolls in the distance as you turn to look at the man again. He is still seated, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows, gazing at you curiously.

This is what you want: this man in your home, always, sharing your fire, sharing your space, looking at you as if you hold his heart in your hands.

The words spill from your lips before you can consider them. “My father always told me that a storm can make a person change their mind about anything.” You hear the significance in your own words, and you press on anyway. “He said it’s in their nature to bring about transformation.”

The man’s darkened eyes do not leave yours for a moment, and you hold his gaze steadily, wanting him to hear your unspoken plea.

Stay with me. Let me love you as I do in my dreams.

His face does not betray any decision, but his gaze is tender, filled with a weary longing. His eyes explore each feature of your face as gently as his fingers did a few moments ago.

“Perhaps I will listen to it for awhile, then,” he murmurs, and your heart sighs.

All is not lost. You must simply wait.

As you start towards the doorway that leads to your bedroom, you pause beside his chair. The man is looking up at you with eyes that melt you to your very soul. Overcome with your affection for him, you lift one hand and stroke the side of his face, smiling down at him fondly.

“Goodnight, general,” you whisper, and your heart whispers, Beloved.

Before you can drop your hand, the man wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his lips. An unhurried kiss to the back of your hand, one that sends another shiver down your spine, and he releases you. His eyes burn into yours, intense, ardent, yearning.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, and your heart hears his whisper, Beloved, long after you have slipped into the next room.

This one needs more appreciation 💖💖

Mercifull - Maximus Decimus Meridius x (Fem)Reader

Gladiator (2000) Oneshot

Warnings: Confession of suicidal thoughts ( reader makes it and he talks her out of it), some age gap ( reader is young lady fan in age of looking for marriage).

Summary: The company of your favorite gladiator is the only bliss your father has been able to obtain for you since the rule of Commodus got you fearing for your lives.

Bought in clandestinity through the aborrecent mechanisms of roman corruption, your one moment to show Maximus thankfullness for the positive impact he had in you becomes your time to present him with a small part of the comfort fate has denied him through his endless sufferings.

Notes: First piece of Gladiator fic I ever written, inspired by the lovely @wildsaltair and an idea that wandered my mind post rewatch. Despite the grim topics in the warnings, I need to clarify it is mostly a comfort fluff

Maximus wasn't counting with more visits at night and the reminder of Lucilla's warnings regarding the depraved customs of wealthy ladies in Rome haunted him when he got the news. He would have yet to receive someone else, fault of his increasing popularity. It was matter of time untill fame would bring that sort of attention to him and he despised it. Forced to be in the presence of the buyer of instants from the misserable life he had yet to live, he would deny them of the one thing they really paid for. Frightening disdain could be enough to make a corrupt rich matron think twice before venturing.

Once he had you face to face, you confused him to no end debunking all previous assumptions. In his eyes you appeared like a portrait of innocence. A polite young lady that smiled for him with shy blush, not the attitude expected for a lascivous woman seeking satisfaction for her wicked desires from a gladiator. Nerves kept you awakardly silent as you advanced towards him and Maximus followed your every move with disconcerted curiosity.

Only after the guard allowed you some privacy, he finally got to hear your voice.

" It's a great honor, … to be in the presence of the most honorable champion … "

You suddenly interrupted yourself, giving him the impression of a previously practiced introductory speech falling due to excitement.

" … I brought you a humble present, just a honey cake. Self made, none of my slaves were involved. Unfortunately, the guards said we can't have it … What is a shame, because I thought something sweet would be comforting for your spirit. "

Adoration of the purest was all you were showing him. If he could have any doubts about what kind of woman you were, it was all confirmed for him.

For the first time since his life was ruined, something amused him enough to throw a few chuckles.

" You shouldn't be here. What would happen with your suitors if the rumour spreads that you frequent champions at night? "

The inmediate, correct implication showing he knew you couldn't be a married woman had slightly shamed you.

" Do you think that troubles me now? A lot has changed since Commodus crowned himself emperor. What used to concern me feels meaningless. Great damage has he inflicted in such brief time! Giving him a lifespan to rule, he will be the downfall of Rome. If the world our people have built may end, I can at least spend a small portion of my family's fortune for a meet with my favorite gladiator. "

Despite presented as sensical reasoning, your comment made him wary for motives that you couldn't possibly predict.

" Did Lucilla send you as last resort to soften my heart? "

You didn't feel called out in any way and replied with increasing honesty.

" I have no business with her, here I am on my own. My desperate father paid hoping our meeting could reanimate the walking corpse his beloved daughter has become. Your performance in the arena awakened her from the letharge and for once she resembled herself again. "

Unsure of what you meant, he tried to disuade you the best he could.

" He wasted it, I have nothing for you. Not even legendary words of comfort you may treasure for the rest of your life. If an infatuation with the shade of myself you saw brought you here, I'll have to warn you there is no life left in me to share. "

The dark warning had a contradictory effect. Probably because of the frustration caused by such terrible start of the encounter with your idol, some of your initial shyness was slowly dissipating.

" My two brothers gave their lives for Rome, only so Commodus would claim mine! " You admitted right away, controlling yourself to not indulge in reckless yelling. " I know, I saw it in his eyes when I had to swear loyalty to him out of fear. My father ... I am all he has left after sickness claimed my mother and war deprived us of my brothers. Commodus will come for me first. Sooner or later, he will. His wicked smile haunts my dreams turned into nightmares. Your company is the last wish of an innocent who fears herself already sentenced. Can't you not grant such small mercy? "

Maximus no longer could show himself detached from your pleads and your strange fascination became more understandable to him. Far from a superficial admiration, you were moved by his claims. Was that the sort of power Lucilla attributed him? Inspiring terrified people and awakening the conciences of those who remained numb of distractions? He was once a general, but it was not his place to be a revolutionary leader.

And yet, he couldn't help to feel intrigued about your story. He was not in the place to reach you any comfort, but could grant the mercy of listening to you. After all, yours was a moving image for him. Youthfull enough to make him suspect you could as well be a beloved daughter and someone else's fiancee. Innocent and kind, sweet and respectfull of a mere slave.

He relaxed his closed fists, then gave only a few steps closer to you to test if you weren't going to retrocede out of any possible fear of pyshical closeness.

" I am not a good companion, a balsam for desperation, but would like to know what made you expect to find that in me. "

You remained in your position, glance turning softer again before you looked at the ceiling as if you would be confessing yourself to both, him and the gods.

When your eyes were back on him you shrugged, making him smile from amusement.

" Everyday I see the masses supporting him I experience the powerlessness of Cassandra as the trojans cheer arround the wooden horse, because she knows the terrible secret it hides. All what's left for her being the repugnant hands of the lesser Ajax, Agamemnon and the axe of his wife. "

Revisiting the first impression he got of you, Maximus found the comparison fitting. Not because of the terrible fate it augured, but because the image of the beautifull princess cursed with awareness suited with your ways.

" Who am I in this? The priest of Neptune doomed to die for sharing your truth? "

He made you chuckle, but you resumed seriousness to insist with your point.

" You exposed the truth nobody wants to hear loud enough for them to stop ignoring it, and in that I found hope. Your ragefull bright could have burned the cursed artifact of Ulysses. Inspired by it I dreamt of outliving this curse falling upon us."

Your will to share was reaching dangerous territory, but you felt so comfortable with him that you didn't mind to make him the keeper of a secret not even your most trusted slaves knew.

" Before I found you, I was inclined to believe my only way to win would be following the path of the egyptian queen. Take my own life on noble, painless terms before he would command for me the most horrible and humilliating of deaths. My only hope, Maximus, was dying celibate. It was your vengefull hunger for survival what inspired me to think otherwise, ... to crave life. And I am here to show my grattitude, because for a brief instant you made me live again."

It baffled him, incapable of conceibing he could have such strong amount of influence from his position as a doomed entertainer. Aside from the scandall he caused revealing himself, his actions had palpable concencuencies in the most unexpected ways. His cursed existence had a meaning for some, a very real and touching effect on them. Thinking it from the perspective of political manipulation, the sister of the emperor forgot to mention it could reach beyond that.

" My life is brief, girl. I may die tomorrow and what would be left for you to look up to? Survive for your father, your loss would weight too heavy in his heart. Become the wife of a fortunate roman and make him proud. A family to look after will give you the purpose you lack. "

His advice induced you into a very obvious, but delicate conclussion.

" They are your purpose, the reason why you haven't given yourself death yet. Only in your memories they remain, and in the day you will perish, the last glimpse of their existence goes with you. "

Tears began to fall down your face and the sight contained his anger to a mention done by a stranger about his massacrated family. For as incredible as it was, you were the very first person willing to join his mourning.

"You are clever to interpret feelings in the way an augur follows divine signs. "

He managed to bring out one more smile in your still tearfull countenance.

" I suppose that saying I am sorry for your loss would come out as a very empty gesture, but if you indulge me, I will do better to reach you a humble expression of the comfort that was cruelly denied to you. "

The distance between you was shortened at every instant by action of your own approach. Before he would dare to object, your arms were trapping him in an intempestive hug. His chained wrists remained still in their position at the sides, restricted his movement by the ties and his suprise. Your sweet embrace was squeezing thight his firm form, head resting on his chest as if you intended to hear his heart beating.

He stayed there, numb to the comfort that the heat of your body and the scent of jasmines in your skin produced him. From the most ironical of places had someone succeded on the impossible task of caughting him out of guard. Not the fighters on the arena, or the emperor of Rome, but a sweet girl and her infinite kindness.

Unable to respond by receiving you in his arms, he placed a chaste kiss on top of your forehead as soon as you tilted your head up searching for his face.

There were no more tears left in you, only the sweetest delight.

" There are certain moments that can worth for a lifetime and I will treasure this as such. "

He smiled against your skin and pressed another peck.

" You will live again, even if I will not be there to see it. You are strong, way stronger than you think. The kindest roman that my new life has put on my way. "

The praise embarassed you and confused you simultaneously.

" What difference can that make against a monster like Commodus? He has no mercy."

" That doesn't mean he is not fond of finding it on others displaying it for him. " He clarified before completing another advice. " Adoration keeps him pleased. Show him just a brief glimpse of what you have done for me and you may disarm him, like you had disarmed me tonight."

Authentical disbelief to the implied confession made you overlook the rest.

" Have I done that? "

" Your arms are still rounding me. " Maximus reminded you with sweet amusement. " Do you think I would have allowed that if you wouldn't had awakened some sort of weakness? "

You released him a inmediately, raising up your hands with an innocent expression.

" I only meant to comfort you, to share the flame of hope you awakened in me. "

" And you did, … but now it's time for you to leave." He thankfully disencouraged you. " The more time you spend, more dangerous it becomes. If his spies haven't followed you, rumours could lead to a similar end. I want you to never show fright in front of him again, but you will if he finds a reason."

The reminder was sensical and you didn't protest against it.

" Thank you for your mercy, Maximus. "

In that he intepreted your acknowledgedment for the emotional closeness you both had reached through the encounter.

" I could only respond to your mercifull ways, good lady. "

Reblogging this so I can read it again and again🔥🔥

Nightmare

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted

Author’s Note: Up until now I've never posted any Maximus fanfiction because it's always just sort of been something I did for my own enjoyment, but this is one that I don't mind sharing :) @streets-in-paradise inspired me by sharing some Maximus love with me, so this is dedicated to her (and all you other wonderful people who have made Tumblr a place where I can share my passion for this wonderful man)! There's a lot of love poured into this fic, so I hope y'all enjoy it :)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You are not surprised to learn that Maximus has nightmares. The details of his past are something you can only guess at, though he has alluded to the terrible battles and bloody escapades that haunt his memories. You also know that his refuge in your home is the first peace he has known since he was a child.

But you are not prepared for the sheer forcefulness of his first nightmare. He’s asleep next to you in bed, pale blue moonlight filtering through the window of your room, but you are awakened by his movements in the middle of the night. He’s jerking back and forth, his face twisted in a look of concentration, agony, and terror. You can’t help the fear that rises in your throat at the sight.

He makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, one hand gripping the sheets tightly enough that his knuckles turn white. Blinking yourself into consciousness, your heart tightens at the sight. Even all these miles and months away from battle, still his past pursues him in dreams.

His next convulsion shakes the bed, and you instinctively reach out to him, hoping to wake him from the nightmare. It proves to be a mistake the second your hand presses onto his shoulder to shake him awake.

His eyes fly open at your touch, but it’s abundantly obvious that he is not awake, still seeing visions of whatever memory he was in a few moments ago. The look in his eyes is one of pure survival instinct, of a desperation that breaks your heart.

A split second later, you’re flat on your back, and the full weight of his body is pinning you down against the bed. You barely have time to register the shock of his swift movement before you realize that you did not wake him up. Blinded by memory, all he can see is his opponent, and the thought drives you to panic and try to wriggle out from under him.

Grinding his teeth, he grips both your wrists in his left hand and restrains them above your head effortlessly, despite your struggling. You call out his name softly, then more loudly, but still he is lost in the nightmare.

You thought you had tasted his strength before, when he’s made love to you and demonstrated how easily he can hold you in whatever position he chooses, but this situation gives you an entirely new perspective of his strength. A second after flipping you over, his right hand is around your throat, his thumb pressing into your jugular with enough force to crush it.

You’ve never been afraid of him once, but in this moment, without a single hint of recognition in his eyes and all his power focused on choking you, you are so terrified you can barely react. You can’t even use your hands to try to push him away.

Knowing that you may only have a few seconds to react, you gasp out his name as loudly as you can, the word immediately drowned out by the pressure on your throat. Your vision is fading to black a moment later, all the feeling in your hands gone from his vise-like grip.

But your strangled cry reaches past the fog of his nightmare somehow. The pressure on your throat releases, and his eyes widen suddenly, letting you know that he’s finally awake and realizing what he has been doing.

You can never forget the look in his eyes at that moment. All the terrifying forcefulness, the single-minded fierceness, the brute strength that made him such a force of nature on the battlefield — it all vanishes in a split second, dissolving into a gaze of such horror and regret that it shatters your heart instantly. You know that from this moment forward, he may never truly trust himself with you again, a thought that devastates you for him.

You can’t move for a moment, still struggling to catch your breath, and the look of horror in his eyes only increases as he pushes himself off you. He seems torn between the need to gather you in his arms and the fear of hurting you as he just did. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

You draw a ragged breath, reaching out one hand toward him desperately. “I’m all right,” is all you can manage. “I’m all right.”

You try to push yourself to a sitting position, but you find that you simply cannot, still so shaken from thinking you were about to be choked to death by the man you love, who you know would rather die than cause you any harm. His hands are trembling wildly when he reaches out to steady you.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he says, his own breathing so erratic that you wonder if he can feel your pain. “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know it was you.”

He’s repeating himself in absolute shock, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, your neck, your arms to see what damage he’s done to you. His shaking only worsens, but he doesn’t lay a hand on you during his frantic checking over you for injuries, just lets them hover as if he’s afraid to touch you again.

You manage to sit up this time, steadying yourself with a calming breath and trying to give him a relaxed smile. “I know, I know,” you murmur, reaching out to brush your hand over his ruffled hair. He almost recoils at your touch.

“I could have killed you,” he whispers, involuntarily shifting himself to the edge of the bed away from you.

You keep running your hand lightly through his hair, determined to reassure him. “Of course not,” you promise. “You were only dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“It was just a dream,” he echoes, but not in agreement. “A dream of a battle in which I almost died. In which I killed so many men I could never count them.”

You don’t betray a single hint of fear, just scooting forward to close the distance between you. You use both hands now, framing the sides of his face as his eyes search your face desperately.

“I’m perfectly all right,” you assure him with a smile. “See? No harm done at all.”

“You don’t understand,” he insists vehemently, his voice breaking. “I could have killed you. I didn’t know it was you. I only saw my enemy and thought of killing him.”

Seeing how shaken he is, you push forward and clasp your arms around his neck to steady him. He still doesn’t touch you, doesn’t return your embrace. You can feel his whole body quaking in your arms.

“You don’t understand,” he repeats. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t need to know,” you whisper in his ear, stroking his hair rhythmically in the way he always responds to.

He actually pushes you away this time, his hands gentle on your forearms as he puts space between you again. His eyes are blazing, his face as white as your sheets. “You don’t know,” he murmurs again, dropping his hands. “I could snap your neck with one twitch of my wrist. I could break your wrists, your ribs, your spine as easily as I can hold you down.” He holds his hands up in front of you, eyes wide and haunted. “You have no idea what these hands have done.”

“I don’t care what they’ve done,” you argue, seizing his hands with yours before he can pull them away. This time, though, he doesn’t make a move to pull away, freezing in place while he watches you carefully. Slowly, intentionally, you kiss the backs of both his hands, his knuckles, his fingers, to demonstrate your words. “I know you, and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

He shakes his head, though his eyes drift closed at the touch of your lips on the base of his palms. “No,” he half-whispers, “no, no.” Your heart tightens seeing him so tortured, knowing that all this anguish lurks beneath his stoic exterior every day, hiding so you can’t see it. “I should never have risked you like this.”

“You’ve never risked me,” you insist. “You’ve never done anything but protect me.”

“Until tonight,” he counters sharply, his eyes flashing open and fixing on yours with his typical intensity magnified. “It only takes one time. I should never have taken the risk.”

You can read the meaning behind his words — that he thinks he can’t trust himself to sleep next to you. The thought of giving him up, especially for this reason, is utterly unacceptable to you.

“I am not afraid of you,” you tell him firmly. Your words seem to affect him, because the tension in his shoulders lessens fractionally. You kiss his hands again and again, then rest your cheek against the roughened skin that you love so much.

“You should be,” he replies softly, the severity in his voice already decreasing. You can see the waves of exhaustion and sorrow washing over him, and you reach out your arms to enfold him again. This time, he accepts your embrace, folding his arms around your waist gently and resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His skin is burning hot against yours, his arms still trembling.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you whisper. “I could never be afraid of the man who has protected me and cherished me. You have treated me so gently, so tenderly all these months. Never once has it crossed my mind to be frightened of your strength.” You press a kiss to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. “I take pride in having the heart of a man so strong, so capable. I know you would never hurt me.”

He shifts you in his arms, lifting you slightly to align more easily against his body. You can feel the deep, shuddering breath he draws while he thinks about your words. “I would never mean to hurt you,” he replies, “but in a dream, I cannot tell the difference between memory and reality.”

“I believe you would be able to keep yourself from truly hurting me,” you reassure him, threading your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck. He reacts to your touch with a hand sliding up your back to cradle you closer to his chest.

“And if I could not?” he whispers in response, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “If I should wake and find you dead by my hand?”

You shake your head, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Any fear you felt in the moment while he was holding you down is completely gone, lost in the tender embrace he holds you in now. “I do not believe the gods would allow such a thing to happen. Not to you. Not to us.”

He releases a shaky breath, one that glides across the exposed skin of your neck. He ducks his head to press a kiss to your collarbone, letting his lips linger there in a way that makes you shiver in his arms. “I am honored by your trust.”

You smile in response, dragging your fingertips lightly down his sides, over the deep scar that slices down his ribs. “I could never trust another man on earth as I do you,” you reply. “My only fear is that I may drown in the love I see in your eyes every day.”

He kisses your collarbone again in response, then moves upward slowly, pressing his lips to the soft hollow of your throat, then the underside of your jaw at your pulse point. Lifting you up effortlessly with his hands hooked under your arms, he repositions you so that you’re straddling him.

He then rests his fingertips, feather-light this time, against the sides of your neck. He strokes his fingers over each mark they left, then presses the softest of kisses against each one. Goosebumps break over your skin at the intimacy of his actions, of the wordless apology in every touch.

He lowers his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he breathes you in. “I do not know what blind fortune allowed me to find you,” he murmurs, touching his lips softly against the corner of your mouth, “but I thank them every moment for the gift of holding you like this.”

At your affectionate smile, he finally gives you the ghost of one in return, though his eyes are still haunted. You suspect that he will retain that haunted look for some time, no matter how many reassurances you offer.

As the intensity of the last while calms, he shifts you in his arms again, cradling you gently and laying you back against the pillows. He leans up on one arm, facing you, and you reach up a hand to stroke the side of his face. His expression softens again, giving you a look of utter fondness and devotion that makes your heart melt.

He leans forward slowly, as if asking your permission, and you gladly grant it. His lips touch yours with a gentle brush, then a bit more pressure. His tongue slides across yours in the way that always sends shivers up your spine, and one of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair, the other resting lightly on your waist. He kisses you once, twice, three times, each one more tender than the last, then lets his lips linger against yours for a moment more.

“I love you,” he says softly that you barely hear it, but rather feel it against your mouth.

“I love you,” you return, “more than I can say.”

One last kiss, and he finally lays down beside you, his face mere inches from yours and his arm folded across your waist. He takes his time in going back to sleep, choosing instead to gaze at your profile in the soft moonlight, but sleep finally takes him. And when you finally close your eyes, content to sleep peacefully beside him again, it’s to the sound of his even breathing and the warmth of his protective embrace.

Girl, same!

That's so true

sometimes the love of your life is a 40 year old french man…

In love, specially with the last two💖💖🫠🫠

Louis Garrel

Reposting it, to read them all💖💖

Chris Evans Masterlist

Fics with a ❤️‍🔥 contain smut and are 18+. MINORS DNI!

I do not have a schedule please don’t ask when updates will be!

One Shots

Speak Now

Lip Sync Battle

The 2020 Election 

Best friends

Swap

Happy Mother’s Day

Tease

Which Chris?

Hiccups

Surprise!

The girl on set

Evening Activities ❤️‍🔥

Call it Even

Favour

Call me babe for the weekend (Follow up to Call it Even) ❤️‍🔥

Let It Snow

Surprise Visit

Think about it

Floofy Haired Surprise

Floofy Haired Delight ❤️‍🔥

Floofy Haired Treat 

Glammed Up?

Under The Stars

Silver Fox

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to

Rollerblading Hero

Okay Gramps

I told you so

The Perfect Wingman

Dog Sitting

Cuddle Buddy

Sexiest Man Alive ❤️‍🔥

Pumpkin Carving

Sweet Nothings

New Girl In Town (Bookstore AU)

Greatest Regret

Series

Boston ❤️‍🔥

Best Friend’s Brother ❤️‍🔥

The Interview Series

Burnin’ Up (Firefighter AU) ❤️‍🔥

That was amazing😍😍

can you make one with matt murdock where they're good friends but one night they're drinking and having fun and then the reader kiss him but when they making out he ends up saying someone else name and the reader leaves, later on they talk and reader apologizes for misreading their relationship and continue to be friends but theres tension in it until bradley finally admits that he likes her and he try to make up for all the time lost

~Friends Don't Treat Me Like You Do~

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none really, embarrassment?? Alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries (nothing major)

Genre: mostly fluff very minor angst

Summary: You've had a crush on your friend for a very long time and when you finally make your move it goes terribly wrong; And that's why friends should sleep in other beds // and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do ... // my friends won't love me like you - Friends by Ed Sheeran

A/N: I know it's a typo of some sort but it's sending me to the moon that the name Bradley is jus thrown into this ask cuz I can't even figure out what it's replacing lmaoooo anyway thank you for requesting! I hope you like it anon! :3 (also I didn't edit this plz be nice)

***

Your friendship with Matt Murdock is in some ways rather unconventional. You've been friends for many years, but these days most of your interactions consist of him stumbling over to your apartment at odd hours covered in bruises you don't ask about- not because you don't want to know but because you're pretty certain you've guessed it and you're not sure what acknowledging it would mean. So you don't ask, instead, you give him food, and tend to his wounds, and talk to him about whatever comes to mind until he inevitably falls asleep on your couch for a few hours and sneaks out early enough to go back to his place for his day job as a defense attorney with his two friends. Both of whom you'd consider friends- although not nearly as close as you are with Matt.

Tonight Matt's invited you over to his place. Apparently, he's been feeling a bit guilty that most of the time you've spent together in recent days has been just him coming over in the middle of the night. As if you'd ever actually be annoyed with taking care of your friend. Your friend you feel for more than he can ever know. Still, he insisted you come over for dinner so you did, he ordered your favorite from a takeout place near his place and now you're eating and drinking wine you brought along with you. Well, you're drinking wine, Matt's been helping himself to the beers filling his fridge.

"Whenever you come over I do all that talking Matty so today you can do the talking this time. Tell me what you've been getting up to lately." You tell him once you've covered asking each other how your day was.

"I don't do anything interesting y/n- I go to work, spend all day reading or writing lengthy opening statements or discussing things with Foggy and our clients until ungodly hours according to Karen. Sometimes they drag me out to Josie's but- there's really nothing I 'get up to' and you know that."

"Why do you do that?" You frown.

"What?"

"Make yourself seem so dull when you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"I've known you for a long time Matt and I can't think of single period of our lives where you had nothing interesting going on and yet you always talk about yourself as if you're the color beige personified. It's like you're worried that if people think you're too interesting they'll," you trail for a moment "find out something."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You're just way more interesting than you want people to think. For some reason."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You're not exactly an open book either."

"You got something to ask me about Matty?"

"No." He shakes his head. You stare at him for a long moment.

"We should play a game!" You announce.

"I don't really- have games?" Matt says.

"There are tons of games that don't require having anything Matt we just have to pick one."

"Like what?"

"We can play 20 questions- the right way, last letter first letter, I'm not a fan of Ghost but we can do that too, or word replacement- to name a few."

"I'm- not familiar with those besides 20 questions?"

"Well, last letter first letter you pick a category and we name items except the last letter of one item has to be the first letter of the next one so like if we're naming office supplies and I say stapler you'd say something like ruler. And Ghost is a spelling game, kinda like hot potato meets Horse the basketball game- so like you take turns spelling a word and you don't wanna be the one who finishes the word- if you do then you get a letter from the word ghost- first person to finish ghost loses. And then word replacement is just a silly game where you pick a movie or show title and change one of the words to the silliest thing you can think of." You explain quickly.

"Let's do the title one. Requires the least amount of thinking and I don't have to compete with you." He says.

"Then I'll start. Fast and Constipated." You giggle.

"Fast and Constipated!?" Matt's laugh is incredulous.

"Yeah, fast and furious but not so fun."

"Okay um- John Tucker Must... Juggle."

"That's way less fun than him dying." You laugh.

"True."

"What a Chupacabra wants."

"Goats- obviously."

"Shut up." You giggle.

"Now you- resent me 2."

"Oh that's- why would you say that?" You chuckle.

"I dunno I'm too drunk to think of movies." He mutters.

"All I've got are rom-coms in my head and those titles are not nearly as fun to fuck with. Two weeks- paleontologist?" 

"Paleontologist!? What movie was that even supposed to be?"

"Two weeks notice. Duh."

"I don't think I know that one." He frowns.

"It's about a woman who ends up working as the PA for some rich businessman when she tries to protest something he's trying to build- I forget the details but he turns out to be a giant useless manchild and when he disrupts her personal life for something frivolous she tries to quit but somehow they fall in love or whatever. It's been a while since I've watched it honestly." You shrug.

"Rom-coms are such a curious collection of movies."

"True but that one is pretty average compared to some others I've seen."

"Do you watch a lot of them?"

"I like to laugh at them mostly." You say. "You know what's a weird one? The Notebook."

"Is that not like- a classic?"

"I mean yeah but like the guy gets the girl to go on a date with him by dangling off of a moving ferris wheel."

"And that works?"

"Somehow! I mean I guess she didn't wanna feel responsible for him dropping himself off the wheel in front of an audience but I dunno it seems like he was just looking for reasons to die in that movie." You explain. "Although I never finished that movie maybe he does die. Except then it wouldn't be a rom-com I guess. It would be more tragedy, like in the Shakespearean sense."

"You are always somewhere else." Matt laughs.

"Not always! Oh! I brought that CD you wanted to borrow. We should play it." You sit up suddenly and grab your backpack.

"Are you sure all you've had is that bottle of wine?" Matt asks sitting up slowly from where he's laying on the floor.

"Where's your player?" You ignore his question.

"Should be in the bookcase." He waves absentmindedly.

"Do you want another beer while I'm up?" You ask walking over to the radio to pop the CD.

"Nah. I'm good thanks." He says. Music fills the apartment, and you can't help but sing along to the upbeat tune from Matt's CD player. You dance, well mostly spin, around the apartment giggling as you go.

"Are you dancing?" Matt turns towards you with a smile on his face although you're not looking at him.

"Of course I am- I love this song. Do you wanna dance with me?" You ask walking towards him, still dancing but less now so you can get where you're going.

"No no- I'll leave the dancing to you." Matt says before you make it all the way over to where he's sitting on the floor.

"Suit yourself." You shrug but when you attempt to change directions you trip on your backpack still on the floor and go tumbling towards the ground. Matt moves quicker than you'd expect for a blind guy off several beers but his arms shoot out and yank you towards him before your head hits the hardwood.

"Careful y/n." He says softly as he settles you into his lap.

"Do I need to be if you're here?" You joke smiling at him as you toss your arms over his shoulders.

"Y/n-" Matt's tone is warning in a way only he could get away with using on you.

"Relax Matty, I know to look after myself." You say quietly. Matt frowns slightly as if he's going to protest, but you don't let him get the words out. Alcohol coursing through your system, you seize the opportunity of his closeness and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it. Matt lets out a noise of surprise, he heard your heart rate spike sure but he couldn't have guessed this was why. His lips move against yours for a second before something catches his attention and he's gasping out a name. Except, it's not your name.

"Karen." He breathes and it reaches your ears like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head. You jerk back suddenly.

"Oh my god-" You say scrambling out of his lap. "I- I am so sorry. I'm gonna go." You grab your bag and b-line it for the exit before Matt can even get to his feet.

"H-hang on a second y/n I-"

"I'll- I'll see you around Matt." You force yourself to say before leaving his apartment. You feel sharper than the amount of wine you've had should allow as you walk the few blocks to your place. Only once you're back in the safety of your own home do you let yourself wallow over how absolutely embarrassing that was. You might have just ruined one of the most important relationships in your life only for him to call out for another girl. You stumble into the shower in hopes of washing away some of the embarrassment you feel, or at the very least distracting yourself enough that you can shelf it and get some sleep. You spend hours tossing and replaying the moment excruciatingly but eventually, exhausting wins out and you do fall asleep. The next couple of days you pretty much ignore Matt's calls and texts. You really bury yourself in work to avoid dwelling on that awful night but you know you can't dodge him forever. Evidently, two days is as much as Matt's willing to give you to do so because on day 3 of avoidance he comes knocking at your door late at night as he sometimes does.

"Look- I know you've been avoiding me and all but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say Matt no need. I'm sorry I overstepped, I- I totally misread things the other night but hey- alcohol will do that sometimes. I'm sorry. We're good though. I'm good. I just needed a minute to lick my wounds of embarrassment. Everything's fine. Come on let's see the damage tonight hm?" You lead him into your apartment ignoring the confused look on his face. You let yourself settle back into your routine with him, patching him up, giving him food, getting him up to speed on the last couple of days of your life, telling stories, and just talking until he falls asleep on your couch. You're determined to shake this stupid crush of yours off and go back to the way things have always been between you. And if you're gonna shake this crush step one is putting yourself out there. Which you do, and for the next few weeks you find yourself on dates almost every night. Tonight's date is going surprisingly well all things considered. He'd planned to take you somewhere that ended up being closed after a freak accident the other day that he didn't know about. It was around the corner from Josie's so you brought him here instead and the conversation has been well worth it- even in a place like this. The one downside is that it's Friday and Foggy and Karen usually drag Matt here for drinks on Friday. You had hoped they'd skip out on that tonight but you of course could only be so lucky. When the bell over the door rings and you turn to see Karen leading Matt into the bar with Foggy behind them you almost want to groan. Dating has been nice but seeing Karen and Matt so close is like picking a scab. You turn back to your date with a smile, intent on ignoring the trio, except of course it couldn't be that simple.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n! Hey!" Karen beams at you.

"Karen! Hi! Foggy, Matt, good to see you all." You smile.

"You didn't tell us you'd be here tonight." She says.

"Well I didn't plan on it otherwise of course I'd have let you know." You tell her. "James this is Karen and that's Foggy and Matt. They're friends of mine. They all work together we've- kind of crashed their spot tonight." You tell your date.

"Oh! Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Nice to meet y'all." James shakes each of their hands. "Did you guys- wanna join us? Since it's pretty crowded in here you might not find another table."

"That's so nice of you James!" Karen says. Very nice indeed.

"I'll track down some chairs." Foggy says. You shift your seat closer to James to make room at the table since apparently they'll be joining you. You try not to pay too much attention to Matt's silence as everyone settles around the table.

"So y/n, you told James how we know you but you didn't mention how you know James. Are you guys work colleagues or something?"

"We have a mutual friend that set us up." James offers.

"Oh my gosh! We're crashing a date?! Why didn't you say so?" Karen shakes her head.

"No no no don't even worry about it, we've been here a couple of hours already. I invited you to sit with us so the night could go on." He says.

"Asking me, also would have worked." You smile.

"You guys are just the cutest." Karen sighs.

"I'm guessing this is a first date since- y/n's never mentioned you before." Matt says.

"It is. Not that I have to tell you about every guy I see." You say.

"You tell me everything." He scoffs.

"That's not true and even if it were that doesn't change the fact that I don't have to."

"So you keep things from me?"

"Am I missing something?" James chuckles.

"Matt and y/n have been friends since they were teenagers. They fight like they're siblings sometimes." Foggy explains.

"Sorry about that James. Matt's just-"

"Like a brother- I get it. I have siblings so I definitely know what it's like." He nods.

"Exactly." You smile.

"Like a brother." Matt quirks an eyebrow at you.

"As good a way as any to describe us." You nod. Matt hums and raises his glass to his lips without another word. The five of you sit and talk over drinks for another hour before you're ready to leave and James is happy to walk you out.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." He tells you.

"Even with the date crashers?" You ask with a goofy grimace.

"Heck yeah! Your friends are great." He laughs. "Next time I'll have my friends crash us. How about that?"

"Next time?"

"If you're willing. I'd really like to see you again."

"I- I'd like that." You nod.

"Cool. I'll- start coming up with second date ideas."

"Hopefully this time the place you pick doesn't impromptu have an incident." You laugh.

"I will quadruple check." He tells you. When you reach your block, but not your building, you stop and turn to him.

"Sounds good. I'll see you around James." You smile. He leans forward and kisses your cheek softly.

"Goodnight y/n." He says and walks away. You make it up to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and take a long shower. You enjoyed talking to James and you actually are interested in seeing him again for sure. Soon you're showered and pajamaed and pretty much ready for bed but before you can flop into it there's a knock at your door. Who could be knocking on your door right now? A quick check shows you it's Matt standing in your hallway.

"Matthew?" You open the door with a frown.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Well- right now I'm wondering what you're doing in my apartment."

"Like a brother to you?! Seriously? Last time I checked most people don't make out with their brothers."

"Depends on where you are I suppose." You shrug. "But regardless Matt that was a mistake we both know that." You shake your head.

"A mistake? Is that how you feel about it?"

"How I- I'm sorry did you forget calling out Karen's name while I was kissing you?! Cuz I've been trying to so if you've got tips to share on how that'd be great."

"Goddammit y/n." He sighs dropping his head.

"Matt you really should go. I know you worry or whatever but- James is, nice and it's late I'd like to go to bed."

"Screw James." Matt scoffs.

"Um- it was only our first date- you're skipping a few steps."

"That is not what I- it's like you do this on purpose."

"What are you doing here Matt?" You sigh. 

"I don't like you dating him. I don't like you dating anyone for that matter. How could you kiss me like that and just... move on like nothing?"

"I dunno it's pretty easy when you call me the wrong name." You say.

"That was not what you think."

"I'm sure."

"It wasn't y/n. I'm serious. I could-" Matt stops and lets out a breath. "I'm Daredevil." He says.

"I know." You nod.

"What? You know?"

"You come in here at the witching hour every few days covered in bruises Matt how many explanations could there possibly be for that?" You roll your eyes.

"You never asked."

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready." You shrug. "Why tell me now?"

"Since I can't see- my other senses make up for the loss. They're like- very developed. I heard Karen scream somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, she sounded like she was in trouble that's- that's why I called out her name. I thought maybe one of Daredevil's many enemies managed to connect her to me. It wouldn't be the first time, I'm always listening for her and Foggy these days and I just-"

"Well was she in danger?" You ask.

"Nightmare." He mutters. "But by the time I pieced that together you were gone."

"Of course I was. Having a man say someone else's name when you kiss him is not something that encourages-" Matt cuts off your snarky remark by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. You react quickly, kissing him back, your hands wrapping around his wrists. By the time you pull away from him, you're breathing heavily.

"I'm in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry I wasn't clear about it." He says.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well in my defense I've spent the last few weeks trying to get over you-" Matt kisses you again, hard, possessive, fiery.

"Don't." He says.

"Obviously." You grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. You spent years thinking you'd never get to kiss him, now that you know the truth you fully intend to take advantage and Matt has years of pining he wants to make up for.

***

I'm going to cry😢😢 It's so good

a hug from peter would solve all my problems 😭 can you write something where peter hugs reader i'm sorry it's vague but i just need a hug but it's okay if you choose to not write it </3

same here babe same here :) i hope this is okay — peter visits you at your work and literally that's all you needed | sad/anxious reader, wc : 0.8k

The office has been busy today. It's scary, suffocating and you hate the way the files on your desk just keeps on increasing with every passing minute.

It's lunch time and you're staring at the desktop screen, not in the mood to eat or drink or do anything. You just want to finish everything that is left and leave for home.

You woke up with an aching dread in your chest, heavy and unbearable. Heart pounding so loud in your ear and yet you pushed yourself out of your bed. Though now you regret doing it.

But in your defence it wasn't something new, worrying is like a second nature to you and it has been since forever, so you did what you're good at. Pushing your limits. Even if it felt heavier than the other days for some reason.

The feeling intensified when you found a sticky note on the bedside table that said Peter had to leave earlier than usual because his boss, Mr.Jameson was in a funny mood today.

When he is not though?

And with that you forced yourself to brush your teeth, to take a shower, to look presentable for your day. You forced yourself to work, forced yourself to smile when your coworkers smiled at you. No matter how exhausted you're feeling you somehow manage to do every single task that you're supposed to do.

It's when your colleague calls your name that you blink out of your muddled thoughts.

“Your boyfriend is here.” your colleague smiles and then you smile too. It's the only good thing about the day, getting to see him. In fact Peter is the only good thing in your life. Him and Aunt May to be precise.

You make your way downstairs and find him at the reception, standing in a corner he's looking outside the glass window, bag hugging his back, earphones wired in. Pretty as ever as he patiently waits for you.

He pulls the earphones out when he sees you. It's less crowded here since everybody is out for lunch, it's just you, him and two others from the cleaning staff.

“Hey, baby” Peter smiles, as you near him, hand reaching to hold yours.

“Hey, yourself.” You greet. The lump in your throat tightens at his touch.

“I'm sorry, I didn't call, I-I saw your texts but I was kinda stuck somewhere, and then I figured maybe I should just come here and see my girl.”

My girl. It's not the first that he has referred you as his girl but it affects you the same way each time.

Your nose stings and you think you're going to cry. You're sad. exhausted. And you missed him so much.

“Please don't be sorry, Pete. I understand you're busy.” you say, leaning into his chest, arms limp at your sides. Wordlessly, he needles his arms around you. You didn't realise that you needed this- that you needed him to hug you, until you got it.

“Bad day?” his chest rumbles as he speaks. You nod, your nose rubbing against his shirt as you do so. He smells like your detergent, his cologne and coffee and something smokey.

And it happens before you can stop it, your feelings come crashing down at you in the form of tears, his hold around you tightens, hot tears soaking through his shirt.

“Hey, hey, baby.” he whispers, petting your hair. “Everything is fine. I'm here. You're safe.”

You know you're safe, it's the safest place in the whole world. His arms. Peter knows it too but he also knows how louder things get in your head sometimes. Which is why he tells you again and he'd do it every time you need him to remind you that you're safe ; that he is safe and that the world is not on fire.

You stand there, in that corner for quite some time, holding him close listening to his calming voice, his heartbeat.

“I'm sorry, You came here to see me and I just-” you sniff, pulling back. “ I don't even know why I am crying.” well you kind of know but it's hard to explain with words. Like it's so many things but also nothing at the same time. It seems pointless but you can't help the way you're feeling.

“No more sorrys, bub.” he urges. “What do you have a boyfriend for?” he brackets your cheeks between his palms and smiles before leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Hug me all you want, I'm all yours.” his lips hot against the soft skin as he kisses each of your damp eyelids.

“How are you feeling? If it's too much then we can leave, I'm sure your boss won't mind, would he?”

“I'm feeling much better, all thanks to you .” you mumble, eyes closed, arms snaking around his waist.

“You're amazing, you know that right?”

“Nope, you are.” a peck on your nose.

“Excuse me, I'm complimenting you here, so shut up and take it.” your lips curve upwards, your first smile since he showed up here.

“Okay.” Peter says as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into a hug again. “I'm amazing.”

Not more than you. He thinks. The smile on his face is unmatchable.

So cute😍😍

peter parker swinging by your bedroom window, full suit and everything, just to hand you a single wildflower he chaotically just picked from the side of the road. (who knows why he’s doing it, maybe he’s just being adorable, maybe he fucked up and is trying to apologise?)

my first ever peter fic!! i hope you like this, ilysm ♡︎ | fem!reader, fluff, 0.8k

warning: reader having summertime sadness

—

You've been feeling shitty, like really very shitty. A type of feeling that one gets when they're kicked out of the house with no money? Yeah, that kind of crappy and for no reason. That makes it even worse. 

You tried everything, from making some tea for yourself to doing your hair to cleaning your room and even clearing the god damn spam emails. Nothing worked. It sort of felt good to be doing something, at least you're not sitting idle, but the overwhelming feeling never left.

It's sticky and humid today and you're just waiting for the sun to go down. Summers suck.

You're loathing the weather when something hits your window. Like a bird, a very large bird or something.

Nevermind, It's your boyfriend. You see him before you can panic.

He and his weird ways, You smile a little and slide the window door open.

“Hi” he says breathlessly, as he sits down leaning against the wall, just as he enters. Mouth slightly open, gasping for air. He's in his spiderman suit with the ever present bag on his back. 

Which is quite a feeling because he usually doesn't show up like that. And you still don't know how to react knowing your own boyfriend is a vigilante. Quite too much to digest.

“Everything okay?” you ask, worried.

“Yeah. I'm cool.” he replies, getting up. A smile on his pretty face as he does so.

“Well?” you gesture towards his getup. 

“Oh yeah, that— I was on my way to meet you and then, let's say I happened to cross paths with an old, not so friendly friend.”

Understandable. 

“You're okay right?” you inquire, running your gaze from his head to toe, looking for any sort of bruise or cuts. Hands reaching to rub his shoulders up and down softly.  

“Ouch!” Peter feigns hurt, just to see that look on your face. skittish and way too scared for him. You're just so easy to tease, not that he's complaining. Truthfully his heart blooms with love whenever you worry over him. It's sort of lovely. Very very lovely.

 “Oh fu- I'm so sorry.” 

“Don't be, I was kidding.” he says, planting a quick kiss on your forehead and then immediately. “Oh, hey I got something.” 

He shrugs off the bag, puts it on your study desk. You watch his hand when he zips it open, you watch his arm when he lifts the bunch of green stems up, purple, pinks and whites adorning the top of it. 

“They reminded me of you.” Peter says, and You watch his lips curve upwards, brown eyes shining as he extends his hands to give you the flowers, so earnestly.

And you're not going to cry. Definitely not going to cry. Nobody cries in these kind of situations. You think. How do they react though? You don't know.

You have given plenty of gifts to your friends and family but never been on the receiving end ever. And the fact that he thought of you, like he really looked at the flower and thought of you? The thought makes you a bit dizzy but with love and something melancholic. You'd like to blame your mood earlier.

Which is why, though you didn't mean it, your lips slightly curve downwards and before you could stop it, tears manage to escape your eyes, down to your cheeks. You fucking hate yourself.

“Hey no- I- is it something i did?.” he asks, a hand reaching for your face instinctively, baffled by the response. 

Why would you cry, unless he hit a nerve? You're fairly new in your relationship and even though he knows alot about you, there are still plenty of things he doesn't know, yet. Though you literally know everything about him. 

“No.” you shake your head, “ it's just- nobody ever did something like this” you say, furtively. 

“I love them,” you tell him, bringing the flowers closer to your chest. 

He looks at you, fondly with so much adoration in his eyes as he wipes your tears with his thumb, his fingers behind your ear. 

“thank yo—” he cuts you off connecting his lips with yours. A hand snakes down to your waist, pulling you closer, the other holding your face.

For a second you freeze and then time. You lax in his hold, closing your eyes shut, letting the dizziness of love take over.

It takes a second to recover from the love haze when he pulls away. 

“What was that for?” you ask and Peter smiles looking at your love sick face.

“I don't need a reason to kiss my girlfriend.” he says, matter of factly before doting a few more kisses on your face. 

“You're crushing my flowers.” You giggle, the precious sound he longs to listen to whenever you're not around. 

That's okay. He thinks. He's going to bring you Chamomile and Tulips tomorrow, Chrysanthemum and Hyacinths the day after and more day after day until the novelty wears off or better he'd make you a garden. 

Help!!!! I can't stop reading fanfics about Sebastian Stan. I need urgent therapy!!!!

So freaking hot🫠🫠😏😏

Familiar Feeling

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female reader

Warnings: SMUT NO PLOT (They literally just met), unprotected sex, they fuck everywhere

I just moved into a new apartment with my two best friends, Faith and Lane.

Faith is a writer and swears that the Marvel actor, Sebastian Stan lives in our apartment building. Lane is an actor and she agrees with me and thinks that Faith is losing her mind.

None of us have seen him in the building. He is like our own little myth.

One day, Faith was out at a meeting and Lane was at an audition.

I was left alone so I was just cleaning up the apartment. I cleaned my room and the main courters. I then decided to take the trash out and on my way, I swear I saw Sebastian taking his trash out.

He smiled at me as he passed by me.

I quickly turned around and spoke.

"You're Sebastian Stan aren't you," I said as he nodded.

"Yeah, we're neighbors I think. I've seen you around," He said.

"You've seen me around? My two roommates have been on the lookout for you ever since my one roommate thought she saw you in the laundry room."

"Yeah, I've seen you around. You always wear those shorts with the pink string," He said as he eyed me up and down.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting with me, Mr. Stan," I said as I smirked at him.

"What if I was? And it's Sebastian."

I just smiled at him and then walked past him to dump my garbage.

"I'm going to go back up to my apartment where my two roommates are not and I am going to run a bath to wash off the trash shoute," I said as I sashayed past him. I could feel his eyes on my ass as I moved past him.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I said as his eyes averted back to my eyes.

He dropped his trash off and then followed me into the elevator.

I stood against one wall and he stood against the other with his hands in his pockets.

I was the one standing closest to the buttons so I pushed the emergency stop button.

Sebastian practically flung his body over to me and pinned me against a wall.

"Needy girl needs me so bad, huh?" He asked as he wrapped a hand in my hair and neck. He kissed me so deeply and passionately. I'd never been touched like this before and didn't want it to stop.

He went over and turned the elevator back on.

We got off on my floor. I do quite literally mean, got off.

I held his hand and led him into my apartment.

"It's really clean in here. It smells like you," He said as he took a deep breath.

I smiled at the thought that he already likes the smell of me after one day together. Not even one day. Maybe a couple minutes. We've just immediately clicked with each other.

"Do you want something to drink? Maybe something to eat? We might have some leftovers in the fridge."

"No, only you," He said as he sighed and sat down on my couch.

I smiled and walked over to him on the couch.

I stood in front of him and he pulled my pants down along with my panties. He then pulled down his pants and underwear.

I sat down on him facing him.

He moaned out as I rode him. He grabbed at my hips and I tugged on him all over.

"Fuck, you feel better than I thought," He said as he grabbed my ass and squeezed tightly.

"Oh my god," I moaned as I came around him. He pushed me off of him before he came inside of me.

I pulled my pants and he pulled up his haphazardly right before we heard the door open to the apartment.

"Oh my god! Did you hear? Apparently, someone saw Sebastian Stan leave the elevator on THIS floor!" Faith yelled as she and Lane entered the room.

"HOLY FUCK!" Lane screamed as she smacked her hand to her face.

"You're Sebastian Stan," Faith said as Sebastian stood up and he shyly smiled and waved at the two girls.

"Yeah, he's going to be here for a bit. We were just uhm. Hanging out," I said as Sebastian turned pink and the girls quickly gathered their belongings and then turned around and left the apartment.

"I'm sorry about them. They are just fangirls and I was just-"

He pulled me into another kiss. A kiss that felt like we knew each other. Like we are closer than we actually are.

"You taste so good and I can't get enough of it," He said as I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his hips.

He carried me to the kitchen counter and sat me down on top of it.

He pulled my soaked panties down along with his pants to show that he was already hard again.

I was trembling and waiting for him again.

He pushed himself into me and found a steady pace as he hit my G-Spot ever so often. Enough to make me squirm and scream under his touch.

He had one hand on my lower back, holding me up so I don't fall off the counter. The other hand was on the counter steadying himself so he didn't fall to his knees.

I came again and he pulled out again.

"I think that just about finished me off," He said as he put his pants on. I slid off the counter like a puddle.

"I don't even think I remember how to walk," I said as he held me by the waist to stabilize me.

"Oh, Sebastian. Don't touch me like that unless you want me all over you again," I said as he removed his hands ever so slowly. I thought I was going to fall right then and there.

So I did.

I slowly fell to my knees. His hands went to my hair as I undid his pants that were on his body for less than a few minutes.

I sucked him off as he braced himself by holding onto the counter behind me.

"Please," He moaned as I continued. I knew he barely had anything left in him and this was probably hurting him. But, him begging me like that felt so good.

He tugged on my head a little once he released it in my mouth.

I stood up and wiped my mouth off.

"Go spit in the sink," He said as I opened my mouth to show him I'd already swallowed.

"That's disgusting," He said with a hidden smirk.

We both cleaned up and I went to change.

He was sitting on the couch just scrolling through his phone when I came back.

"I should get going because I have an appointment for a photoshoot but, I would love to take you out on a real date sometime. Today was the best day I've had in a really long time," He said as he handed me a piece of paper with his number on it.

"Call me," He said as he walked over and kissed me before walking out the door.

Lane and Faith came home later that night and I felt dirty so I cleaned the counter and I mopped the floor. But I forgot about the couch.

It wasn't until late late that night when Faith was sitting on the couch next to me. "What are these stains?" She asked as I just looked between her and Lane.

"Those stains are-" I paused before trying to come up with something. "Yeah, I don't know what those stains are."

You did an amazing job honey!💗💗

𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚-𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏

hello, my babies! I am so so so sorry for disappearing and for not writing! I keep running into writer's block, especially regarding my requests, as there's an overload of smut in there, and there are only so many times you can write smut, haha. I hope you like what I've written, all thanks to sebastian stan for looking so fine and @lovebittenbyevans for putting the idea of cop sebastian in my mind! I am open to turning this into a small series, kinda like what @navybrat817 does with their fics. inspired by this photo

summary - there's a fundraising event in your small town, and you happen to run into the hottest officer in town.

warning - the word cunt is used, and thoughts of feeling something's hand against their private parts.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was a hot day as you walked toward the fundraising function held at the local park. Your cherry-printed sundress flowed perfectly in the breeze, and your pink glossy plumped lips spread into a soft smile as you passed by your friendly neighbours. You approach your friend's coffee stand, thanking her graciously, as she instantly hands you the cold drink. Your lips immediately wrap around the straw, drinking the liquidity goodness into your mouth.

“Sooo, baby. Did you see Sebastian?!” Your friend whisper-yells, staring at you with wide eyes as though she has some secrets to spill. You shake your head, not knowing that he is here. “Oh my god! You need to see him! If you thought he was hot in his uniform, you’re going to be on the ground when you see his outfit!” 

You giggle, shaking your head at your friend’s excitement. “You and every other woman in town are obsessed.” You look through her assortment of snacks she has set out, not wanting to look around for the man you guys are talking about. “How much do you want for the coffee?” You reach into your small pink bag, ready to take out your purse.

“Nothing, it was already paid for before you arrived.” You look at her with furrowed brows, and she smirks at you in response. 

“I have a feeling you won’t tell me who.” You squint at her. “Unbelievable.” You shake your head, “Alright, well. I’m going to go look around for a bit.” You lean over and give her a hug before setting off and beginning to look around at the stalls everyone has set up. You hear laughter, and your eyes follow the sound. There stands the police force, all chatting and having a good time. Your breath hitches as your eyes land on Sebastian, one of the hottest officers in your small town. He stands, glistening into the sun with a tan, his body somehow sparkling. Your eyes move down, gulping as you notice his white wife-beater hugging his figure perfectly, how bulky and oversized his biceps look in it. Your gaze moves down, feeling drool in your mouth as you notice his nicely fit slacks. A whimper nearly falls from your lips. The thing that really ties the whole look together is his little man bun. 

You hear a cheer, followed by your name being called, and your eyes move around the group until you land on Anthony, his hands waving around, causing the other men to look over, and you give a soft smile. “Y/n! Come over, baby!” You walk over, chuckling as his arms wrap around you and bring you into a hug. “We’ve been looking for you! Well, actually… Ow!” You look up in time to see a can bouncing off Anthony’s head, and he glares at someone. “What the hell, man?! That’s littering!”

You turn your head, feeling your heart pound as your eyes connect with pretty blues. Sebastian smirks, giving you a nod. “Sorry, Bud. Couldn’t have you running your mouth, especially in front of this gorgeous woman.” He winks, and you feel your cheeks heat up. He spreads his arms, raising a brow. “Where’s my hug, Princess?” You slowly move from Anthony’s hold and into Sebastian’s. Your arms wrap around him, and you sink into him. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling your head become fuzzy as you take in his delicious scent. How could he smell and feel so nice? He should be illegal. “I see you received the coffee.” Sebastian pulls back and gives you a smirk, his eyes flicker down to your plump lips, and his tongue flicks out as he imagines what your gloss would taste like against his lips. 

“You’re the one who bought this for me?!” You look at him, shocked but not surprised. Sebastian had always managed to pay for your things before you even arrived. He nods before directing his attention to the group, spinning you so your back is against his front and his arms wrap around your waist. Your body heats up, feeling your cunt throb from his actions. “Thank you…” You let out quietly, softly smiling as he leans down and kisses the top of your head in response.

“Damn! You’re wasted being a cop, Stan!” Anthony chuckles, sipping his coffee as he stands with his hand in his pocket. 

Sebastian huffs, “And why is that, Mackie?” Anthony smirks, looking between you and Sebastian.

“Because you’re killing all the ladies!” You burst out into a fit of giggles, “So, you would’ve made a great criminal.” Anthony’s brows wiggle, “Sebastian Stan! Killer of Women! He’s the killer that gets away!” His voice booms, and the other officers laugh. 

“Hmm, I could get on that. But there’s only one lady that I’d love to kill with my charm.” Sebastian smirks, looking down at you without you noticing. He pulls you flush against his body, enjoying the shivers that run through you. You felt nice in his arms. Your gaze followed his tanned arms and landed on his large, veiny hands, accessorised with rings. Ones that make you wonder what they would feel like against your most sensitive part. You enjoy being this close to him. You could feel the jealous daggers from the women around you, but you didn’t care about them. You were in Officer Stan’s arms, the hottest guy in town.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

That's so cute💖💖

Sunrises with Bucky Barnes

waking up in his arms; he definitely woke up before you; where he made you two breakfast in bed; you two share sweet nothings and cuddle up while eating; Alpine lays at your feet; small rays of lights move upon your room as the sun is still rising; but oh no you need to get ready; he 100% fights you when you try and start your day; or even get out of bed for any reason; you need to stay in his arms doll; it’s imperative; in reality he’s just whiny and you totally give in to him when he’s like this; all scruffy voiced and sleepy

I love it so much😍😍

Hi luv! How are you? I would like to request some Tasm!Peter Parker with reader that is shorter than him and loves to write. I hope you like this and that you have a great time writing it! Thank you!

Hii, thank u for this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to write🤧 I hope this is okay and not completely bad lmao😅🥰 (0.6k) warnings: use of y/n and petnames, fluff

You were in the middle of writing, when your favourite pen stopped working. And you know, how just some pens are the pens. You couldn't focus on the writing with a different pen, because it was irritating you. So you decided to go buy it and completely forgot that Peter was supposed to come.

You are walking to the supply shop not far from your apartment, when your phone rings, "Sweetheart, where are you ?" He asks, sounding a little bit worried.

You suddenly remember, that he was coming over, " shit, I'm sorry, Pete. I was writing, when my pen stopped working. I'm on my way to the supply shop near the apartment right now. I completely forgot, you were coming, I'll be back in like 15-"

"I'm coming to you" Peter cuts you off and you can't even respond, because he hangs up.

You barely take a few steps towards the supply shop, when you hear a familiar 'whoosh' sound and it only takes Peter a few seconds to appear at your side.

And Peter, the affectionate person, that he is, picks you right up into his arms and spins you around.

"Pete! Put me down, you idiot," you laugh, "everybody will think, we are crazy!"

Peter puts you finally down and smiles at you, "well I am crazy..." his grin gets even bigger, "crazy for you."

"That was so cheesy, Pete" you giggle and playfully punch him in his arm.

"Yes, but you loved it," he replies and intervenes his hand with yours, as you begin to walk to the shop. "I did not," you lie. You love his cheesiness, even if it makes you cringe sometimes.

"You did and you know it," he argues, voice all cocky and you just shake your head.

"Nope," you deny and try to suppress the smile, that is trying to break out.

"You are clearly lying, sweetheart" he points out the obvious," do you wanna know how i know?"

"How?" you question with a roll of your eyes.

"You always scrunch your nose, when you lie, that's how I always know," he say, grinning and he flicks your nose softly.

"What?"

"It's true, but I think, it's so cute, babe" he pokes your side and laughs, when you glare at him.

"You're mean today."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart" he says and you almost believe him. You want to say something rude to him, but he stops the teasing and asks you about your day. You happily tell him everything, that happened, until you get to the supply shop.

At the shop, you literally look at everything you don't need before getting the pen. Peter is obediently following you around the shop like a lost puppy.

Finally you spot the pen, the only problem is, that it's on the highest shelf.

You stand on your tiptoes, even jump, but it's too high for your small height, you groan in frustration.

"Pete?" you smile sweetly at him.

"Yeah?" he asks. He is looking out of the shop's window, his mind completely somewhere else. You can't blame him, it can't be fun to follow you around the store.

"Could you help me?" you pout. Peter's face immediately lights up, his boredom gone.

"What do you need, lovely?

"Can you get the pen, please?" you point at it, "I can't reach it."

You know the second Peter starts smirking at you, that you are in for teasing (affectionate).

"Ow sweetheart, you are too tiny to reach the top shelf, aren't you?"

"Well, having a boyfriend, that is literally a giant comes in handy then, right?" You banter back.

"That's why you keep me around, huh?" he quips back, you chuckle at that and nod, "Yeah, that's exactly why, " you say and tap him lightly on the cheek.

"Now come on, handsome. We have to get home before I forget, what I wanted to write."

"I'm coming, I'm coming" he laughs and follows you quickly towards the cashier, before you can leave him behind for being too slow.

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Thank u for reading! Feedback is always appreciated. 🥰🥰

Have a good day☀️Peace out