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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 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

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.

─────────────────────────

“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.

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.

Reblog If Your Blog Is Safe For

Transgender people

Homosexual people

Bisexual people

Genderfluid people

Asexual people

Pansexual people

Autosexual people

Demisexual people

Bigender people

Agender people

Polysexual people

Straight people

Cisgender people

Straight allies of the lgbtqpiad community

ANYONE

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!

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 .

Same🥺🥺

the way a hug from him would solve everything in my life

→ enemies (to lovers) prompts

"fine, continue to act like you hate me."

"don't you dare look at me that way. not now, after every vile thing we've done to each other."

"i hate you, i hope you don't forget that after tonight."

"why can't we just let whatever this pointless rivalry is go?"

"oh really?" / "yes, really." / "lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart."

"last time i checked, you guys were at each others' throats. how come you're sending heart eyes every time you see her now?"

"i might not be the best at this thing, but like hell i would let you be better than me."

"this is a one-time thing only. don't let me being nice to you get to your head."

"well, well, well. look who's running back into my arms. i told you that i'm irresistible, didn't i?"

"i am not driving home with you, are you crazy?"

"i may not like you, but i'm not heartless."

"say goodbye to being first place, asshole."

"you sound pretty hot when you shut up."

"you know, i still don't really know why i used to despise you."

"happy second anniversary, honey. remember when you first dumped an entire bowl of soup on my lap?"

"the world could really use some of your silence right now."

"your opinion doesn't matter. next, please."

"it seems like i'm out of fucks to give, oops."

"i don't need your pity."

"there are only three things in this world i truly cannot stand: you, you, and you."

"any time something bad happens to me, you've always been there. are you cursing me or something?"

"take your time, darling. hell's happy to wait for you."

"fuck you." / "i'm flattered, really, but no thanks."

free to share and use!

That's something I like

wrapping up the last three hundred and sixty-five days with a round up of all the 'x reader' fanfiction I have published in 2022. thank you all for all your requests, feedback, reblogs and support over the last twelve months, especially during the 10k month of fic! sharing this love for these characters with you all is such a mental refresh for me, and hopefully I can publish even more fics in 2023. and I hope that you'll love all the new fics as much as you've loved these ones :)

happy new year!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

afterwards (drabble) *** aftercare with bruce.

bend, don't break (oneshot) *** /// the take a reprieve during a party, and take a new step in your relationship.

fear and loving in iowa (oneshot) when you’re injured in johannesburg, bruce blames himself.

fireworks (oneshot) thanks to the frigid air at the top of the tower, you share a tender moment.

first times (drabble) *** having sex with bruce for the first time.

p.s. (ficlet) an unfinished note leaves you confused during your college graduation.

restoration (oneshot) after johannesburg, you have nightmares. bruce provides you with comfort.

BUCKY BARNES:

bedside manner (oneshot) sam calls you to say bucky has been hurt on a mission,and you panic.

early hours (oneshot) *** after a mission, all bucky wants to do is crawl into bed with you.

morning grind (drabble) *** morning sex with bucky.

shards of glass (oneshot) *** /// you share a past, and now bucky's tracked you down to find closure.

CLINT BARTON:

after hours (oneshot) *** clint stops by your office after work to distract you the best way he can.

body heat (oneshot) *** /// the there's-only-one-bed trope in the back of an suv during a blizzard.

bound (drabble) *** clint is really into bondage and you're happy to spoil him.

coffee break (ficlet) there's an avenger bleeding in the bathroom of the cafe where you work.

crossroads (oneshot) clint receives an offer that could change his life & you encourage him to take it.

a delicate hand (oneshot) /// clint attempts to pull you out of a funk by helping you get ready for the event.

green light (oneshot) *** /// you surprise clint with a new toy, and he is very eager to try it out.

hey, you (ficlet) *** /// you receive a note from a certain avenger in the middle of a crowded bar.

in the stacks (ficlet) *** you steal a moment of intimacy in the back of a bookshop together.

respite (oneshot) when you’re hurt on a mission, clint has to convince you to take a breather.

think of me (oneshot) *** /// when you're dragged out for a night, clint has an idea of what to do in the club.

three a.m. (oneshot) /// a knock on your window comes from a certain injury-prone avenger.

we could play pretend (oneshot) you bond over all the little things you miss about being in a relationship.

welcome home (drabble) *** you welcome clint home after he's been away on a mission.

JESSICA JONES:

reprieve (oneshot) she has to drag you out of a dingy bar in the middle of the night.

snooze button (drabble) jessica isn't exactly a morning person.

MARC SPECTOR:

fast lane (drabble) *** /// marc gives you a preview in the car of what to expect when you get home.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

follow my lead (oneshot) natasha offers to teach you how to slow dance.

PETER QUILL:

raincheck (oneshot) /// convincing quill to go to bed isn’t exactly an easy feat.

SAM WILSON:

miss me? (oneshot) you're finally reunited with sam in the middle of the battle of earth.

soul food (oneshot) /// when you’re sick, he ditches his responsibilities just to make you feel better.

STEVE ROGERS:

lost time (oneshot) *** late for your date, steve walks in on you working off your frustrations.

TONY STARK:

afterglow (drabble) *** after care with tony.

as you're told (oneshot) *** /// tony calls you to his office with a new game in mind…

between the sheets (oneshot) *** you've decided to try for a baby, and tony can't wait to get started.

come back to me (oneshot) after tony almost dies, you’re left lost and furious at what just happened.

count (oneshot) *** /// tony is nothing if not a giver. but… he is also a bit of an asshole.

echo (oneshot) /// you’re struggling to forget the past, so you try to bring part of it back to you.

idiot (drabble) *** just an soft, sexy moment between the two of you.

insatiable (drabble) *** the real question is, which one of you is the bigger tease?

mood lighting (ficlet) *** tony spoils you by candlelight.

on your knees (oneshot) *** the idea of having you on your knees is far too tempting for tony to resist.

quick question (oneshot) tony has a question to ask you, battlefield be damned.

red and gold (ficlet) an afternoon in central park lets you appreciate the seasonal color change.

simple pleasures (drabble) *** tony loves nothing more than eating you out.

sober hearts (oneshot) a look at your relationship as it has evolved over the years.

spare key (drabble) *** you give tony a key to your apartment.

subtlety (oneshot) *** impatient, you make use of the ‘emergency stop’ button in the elevator.

warm hands (ficlet) *** the two of you share an intimate interlude out in the snow.

WANDA MAXIMOFF:

hold tight (oneshot) *** /// she loves to spoil you & sometimes that means leaving you a quivering mess.

reflected in you (oneshot) you try on your new uniform, and wanda helps you find your confidence.

spicy sweet (oneshot) *** you plan on surprising wanda, but disaster means a change of plans.

sweetness (oneshot) *** /// wanda loves the way you sound, and doesn’t care who else hears it.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

hands free (oneshot) *** /// you find clint on the phone, and you can’t help but distract him.

player three (drabble) *** /// clint x bucky x you. game night takes a turn when they team up on you to win.

SERIES:

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - more to come...

tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @wittyforachange @lovely-dreamer19 @castieltrash1 @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @ruderavenclaw @enna-core @hearmyharmony @katsies @youralphawolf72 @whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish @hallothankmas @meeksmusic83 @fallinginlovewithqueue @justanothermagicalsara @dragon-chica @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @starrynightsforever @baku-writes @sorryurnotbrucebanner