𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 – Nicholas Alexander Chavez X Fem!reader

Hi love! Joel Miller has rotted my brain for forever now and I’m so excited to see the influx of fanfiction for him! ☺️☺️ if I could put in another request with pre-outbreak Joel again, please, could you do one where it’s outbreak day and the reader is already in an established relationship with Joel and is close with Sarah. Maybe the reader is with Sarah when everything starts to go down? A nice mix of angst and fluff? Thank you hun 🥰🥰

AN | There’s plenty of softness and fluff 🥰 but also a very sad ending (sorry, but also not)!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, TLOU typical violence [outbreak day chaos, attack by infected, non-descriptive mentions of injury and blood]

Word Count | 2.9k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey,” he heard your voice, soft and sweet like golden honey. He felt your touch, soft and warm, ghosting over the exposed skin of his back, mindlessly tracing over his freckles, “hey sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” his protest was weak and his resolve to actually get up melted even further as you wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled yourself closer to him, “baby.”

“Come on birthday boy,” a row of kisses was pressed to his bare shoulder as you tried to nudge him towards the edge of the bed, “busy day today, we’ve gotta get up.”

“Can’t we just stay here all day?” He knew it wasn’t an option but he figured it was worthy of a try.

“I-”

“Get up!” you heard Sarah’s voice from the other side of the slightly cracked door, “and if you’re doing anything nasty, close the door at least!”

Joel grinned but Sarah giggled as she ran downstairs and to the kitchen. You rolled onto your back and sighed happily at the ceiling. You really, really loved the Millers. 

“You heard the lady,” you rolled out of bed and pulled on his t-shirt from the night before. Joel opened an appreciative eye as he watched you head into the ensuite bathroom. But before you disappeared from sight, you stuck your head around the corner and beamed at him. God, he loved your pretty smile, “happy birthday, my love.”

Joel sat up against the headboard, arms crossed over his broad, golden chest. He was tired, but there was a warm smile quirking up the corners of his mouth nonetheless, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tossed a clean towel at him, “now get up, or we’re both going to get yelled at.”

“And we definitely don’t want that.”

“We absolutely do not.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“This looks amazing,” Sarah was a wonderful kid. Like, truly so. You never thought you’d feel that way about any kid, but she’d proved you wrong. She preened under your praise as you pressed a kiss to the side of her head, “you did this all by yourself?”

“As if,” Tommy Miller poked his head out from the fridge and cheekily waved his hand at you. You playfully rolled your eyes but returned the wave. When you said you loved the Millers, you really meant all the Millers, “I squeezed - by hand - the oranges that made that delicious juice. And cooked the bacon.”

“I don’t like the grease,” Sarah shrugged with a teasing glower at her uncle. You grinned when you saw the balloons they’d blown up floating around the kitchen, along with a wonkily hung happy birthday banner, “but I made the pancakes.”

“Well, both of you did a wonderful job,” you praised as the three of you heard Joel coming down the stairs. You exchanged a quick look with Tommy and Sarah and the two of them nodded in silent understanding.

“Happy Birthday!”

The two of you shouted in unison, catching the poor man off guard as he almost jumped at the sound of all three of you at once. He clutched at his heart as he watched into the kitchen, pulled into a hug by his daughter and brother. Once they let him go, he came over and pulled you into his arms, hugging in a bone crushing grip, before kissing you sweetly. 

“Save that for later,” Sarah groaned before taking his hand and leading him to the table, “we have to have breakfast and then you’ve got to take me to school, old man.”

“I should make you walk,” he joked and the girl pretended to be upset. The two of them were too funny for their own good, “I’m thirty-six years old you little shit, who are you calling an old man?”

“Definitely not my wonderful, amazing father that’s not old at all,” she tried again, “and the one who gives me rides to school.”

“Yeah,” he waved her off, but the affection and love was written all over his face, “you’re lucky I love you!”

“I love you more, dad!”

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You seem very happy today," Betty gave you a knowing smile as you walked into the office's break room to grab a cup of coffee; well another. It's been a long day at the law office already.

"Well," you took a sip and smiled softly, "it's Joel's birthday today. He likes to pretend to be all grumpy, but we know he loves it. His brother and daughter made him breakfast this morning and you should have seen his face light up."

"He's a nice guy," she agreed. Most of the women - people - in the office loved him, "any plans tonight, then?"

"Stop," your face warmed as you laughed softly, "not tonight. He's working late, so I'm hanging with Sarah. If he's home at a decent hour, we're having a movie night. But…I do have a little something planned for the long weekend."

"Oh, do tell," Betty was funny in a way, but you liked her. She was older than you, and she'd been married for eons. She liked to joke around that marriage was such a drag but it was obvious just how much she loved her husband. You hoped that would be you and Joel one day.

"I've got a little weekend getaway planned," you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively, "Tommy is going to watch Sarah, so it'll be just the two of us."

"Very nice," she clinked her mug against yours, "well, cheers to Joel, and you."

"Cheers!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Do you think he'll like it?" Sarah gave her cake a dismal little look as you looked over. It was a little wonky looking with mismatched candles, but still beautiful. All her.

“He’s going to be over the moon babe,” you promised her, watching as the smile on her face grew and grew. She set the plate on the dining room table, next to the present she got for him (with your assistance but that didn’t matter), “I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

“I hope,” she agreed, “he’s been working late a lot and it’s birthday. He should be here.”

“And here he is,” the back door creaked open, both of you too wrapped up in what you were doing to hear his truck. He beamed at the two of you, causing Sarah to squeal and run over to him, throwing herself in his arms, “hey, kid.”

“I missed you,” she looked at him, her big brown eyes mirroring his own, “you said you’d be home like an hour ago!”

“I know baby, I know,” he touched her cheek affectionately, “there was somethin’ weird going on in the city and it took forever to get home. What’d I miss, huh?”

“Nothing,” she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the table before throwing her arms out in a ta-da gesture, “except this amazing cake!”

“And present,” you added with a cheeky wink.

“And present,” she agreed happily, “now hurry up so we can have some cake and watch the movie? It’s getting late and unfortunately, you force me to go to school everyday, so.”

“So,” he put his hands on his hips as he stuck tongue out at her, “go in and get ready for bed. Then we can have some cake and watch the movie.”

“Yes!” she pumped her fist excitedly, but before she could run upstairs, she stopped herself, “wait - open this first.”

“What is it?” his grin only grew as she handed him the box, “where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs,” she snorted in amusement, “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“I should have known,” he shook while delicately opening the small box, “you’ve always been nothing but trouble. What is - wow.”

He took the watch in his hand and looked it over carefully, watching it steadily tick again. It hadn’t worked properly in years; he’d always loved it, but now, seeing it fixed by his brilliant daughter, he decided it was his favorite thing in the world. 

“Do you like it?” her voice was small; timid. She suddenly sounded every bit her age, so young and full of life, “I know you’d never get it fixed yourself and now you don’t have to.”

“I love it,” he put the watch on and pulled in for a tight hug, “I love you, baby. Thank you so much.”

“Happy birthday dad,” she kissed his cheek before running upstairs to change. 

“Troublemakers,” Joel teased as he took the few steps over to you, “both of you.”

“Good trouble,” you insisted, easily falling into his touch as he wrapped his arms around you. You felt him kiss the crown of your head as melted into him causing him to hum contentedly, “happy birthday, my love. Cheers to today and a lifetime more.”

“Thank you,” he pulled back and kissed you softly, both of silently asking for more and refusing to break apart until you heard Sarah clear her throat.

“You’re going away and you’ve got all weekend to do that,” she grabbed the DVD off the table and headed into the living room, “my virgin eyes don’t need to see this!” 

“You heard her, Miller,” you nudged him in the direction of the couch, “control yourself!”

“This isn’t finished,” he whispered under his breath, “far from it.”

“I’m counting on that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sarah was sleeping, sprawled half on your lap and half on Joel’s. The two of you were halfheartedly watching the movie, lost in each other’s small touches and looks. This - this simple act of being home with the two people you loved most in his world - was everything to you. There was no place you’d rather have been. 

You were in the midst of exchanging a look with Joel when you heard a loud boom outside. The two of you startled as Sarah woke up and looked around in confusion. The sound of yelling and screaming soon reached your ears as Sarah hugged onto you, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted as Joel went to the front door to look outside. The neighborhood was normally quiet and sleepy; nothing like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat as a few car alarms went off, “Joel?”

“There’s a fire down the street,” there was a deep frown on his face, “stay here. I’m going to go and take a look.”

“I don’t know if that’s-”

“Just real quick,” he insisted, “it’s old man Smith’s house. I just want to make sure he’s all right.”

“Okay,” you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn’t like the idea of him going out there, “be careful…please.”

“I’ll be back in just a few,” he promised with a nod before slipping on his boots and heading down the street.

“Come on,” you tenderly nudged up the girl so you take her upstairs and hopefully too bed. You wanted her to be able to get some rest, “let’s get you to bed, missy.”

“Do you think dad will be okay?”

“Of course he will,” but it was a promise that didn’t settle quite right in your stomach. There was a nagging feeling that was slowly starting to consume you and you hated it, “dad’s gonna get through anything. And I’m sure it’s nothing major - maybe something just caught fire.”

“Okay,” but you could tell she wasn’t quite convinced either, “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,” you didn’t like how final her words seemed to be appear, “more than anything.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You ended up pacing around the living room for almost an hour as you waited for Joel to get back. Just a few minutes, you sighed lightly, of course it wasn't just a few minutes. Your nerves grew with each passing moment. 

It grew quiet for a while, which you weren't sure was a good or bad sign. Your question was soon answered by screaming and barking from next door. Sarah barreled down the stairs, panic on her face.

"The dog," she said, "next door. He's barking and I-I think he's scared. I want to go and check on him."

"Sarah," you shook your head, blood rushing in your ears and heart pounding in your chest, "we should just wait inside."

"But-"

"Your dad's not back."

"Well, then we have to find him too!" and she was out the door before you could stop her. You followed after her, not even bothering with shoes.

"Sarah!" you found her running down next door, trying to comfort the whimpering dog. Something just felt off. The front door was open but the lights were off; the fire at the end of the street was showering the neighborhood in an orange haze, "don't go in there!"

"But…"

"Don't," you insisted, "come here. Please. I know you want to save the dog, but it's not safe."

She looked close to tears but gave you a small nod. When you turned to look at the neighborhood, you finally saw all the chaos that had broken out. There was fire around, people screaming and running and shouting. It felt apocalyptic.

"Come on," you took her hand and tried to lead her back to the house. You weren't sure if it was the best choice but it was all you could think of at the moment. Joel would come back and save you soon, "I think we'll be better off-"

"Watch out!"

But Sarah's warning shout came just a moment too late. You couldn't blame her; everything around you was falling apart. 

Your knees buckled and hit the ground as you tried to keep your scream of pain down as much as possible. Whoever - or whatever it was - made a horrible sound, somewhere between a growl and shout as it tackled you to the ground. When you got a look at whatever was holding you down, you realized it was Al Walker from down the block. Or at least, it had been. But this version was not; it was something much more sinister. 

You tried to keep him back as he tried to lunge and bite you, but you were only so strong. All you could do when you felt the burning in your neck was to wince; you were too busy trying to mentally calm Sarah down. She was in full panic mode and trying to figure out what to do if anything. Your upper body felt sticky and warm; a coppery metallic smell overwhelmed you. 

Before you could try to shove him off you again, you heard a loud gunshot coming from some direction before his lifeless body fell on top of you.

“Fuck!” you crawled out from under him, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and gather your bearings. You found Joel standing in front of Sarah, gently shielding her from whatever was around - from you. All around you people were running around and trying to leave or meeting the same fortune as you. 

You swallowed thickly, tears already welling up and running down your face. Joel’s gaze was on your torso and you followed it, inhaling sharply. You were soaked in your own blood and the wound on your neck was burning profusely. Although you didn’t full know what was happening or what sort of chaos had been set loose in the world, you knew this wasn’t good. 

“Baby-”

“Joel,” your voice was shaken as you looked at the two of them. You already knew that this would be the last time you’d ever see them. There was just a feeling in your gut that told you so, “go. Go.”

“Not without you.”

“Please,” you’d beg, you weren’t ashamed. All you wanted was for the two of them to get somewhere safe. You could see Tommy pulling up with Joel’s truck; even he seemed extremely rattled, “go with Sarah and Tommy and get to safety. Please, listen to me for once.”

Joel let out a loud groan of frustration before coming over and wrapping you up in a tight hug. You hugged him just as fiercely, despite your initial insistence that he leave, “baby.”

“I know,” you pulled back and took his face in your hands, neither of you caring about the blood that was now covering you both. You kissed him, one last time, sweet and saccharine as it always was, “I love you. But please, get going now. Keep them safe. Keep yourself safe.”

“But-”

“Promise me, Joel Miller,” you insisted firmly and he gave you a teary-eyed nod, “I’ll catch up to you.”

It was a lie. You both knew that.

“I swear it.”

“Good,” you whispered, “now go, and don’t look back.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” you smiled softly and gave him one last kiss, “I know.”

You gently pushed him back as he reached for Sarah and pulled her towards the truck. It felt like time slowed down as you watched them get in and drive away, headed to what you hoped was safety. 

Your heart was beyond heavy.

You’d just lost your entire world. 

If only you knew what was yet to come.

Dating John Bender Would Include...

requests are open for all :))

Pairing: John Bender x GN!Reader

Word Count: 882

Warnings: mentions of abuse

I hope you all enjoy :)

* at the beginning of the relationship, the energy was kind of stiff

* He still had those pictures of other girls in his wallet, and that made you kind of uncomfortable that he was still talking to some of them whilst you two were dating

* he noticed you looking at his expressions whenever he opened his wallet to see if he smiled whenever he saw those girls’ pictures

* you decided to talk to him about it one day after thinking for awhile

* “Hey, John?”

* “Yeah?”

* “I wanna talk with you about something.”

* “Go for it.”

* “Y’know how you have those photos of girls in your wallet?”

* “Yeah? What about it?”

* “It just makes me kind of uncomfortable that, y’know, since we’re dating and all, that you have pictures of other girls that you still talk to in your wallet.”

* he got kinda upset by the fact that you were sorta telling him what to do, so he left the room and didn’t talk to you for days

* You tried to talk to John in the hallways, passing notes in class and going up to him after school, but every time he would ignore your efforts

* You eventually gave up on trying to resume your conversation, which set him off because now you were ignoring him

* John passed you notes in class, as you did to him, but you'd just read the notes and put them away in your bag

* When the bell rang for lunch, you put your bag over your shoulder and walked out of class

* You were walking fine down the hallway when you were pulled in the contrary direction

* You looked to see John pulling you towards the front doors to talk with you

* When you both went past the front doors, you both stood there before he leaned against the wall

* “So...you wanna explain why you dragged me out here?”

* “I got rid of the pictures and I broke up with the girls in my wallet.”

* From then on, you both promised to talk to each other about problems you might have in your relationship

* Whenever it gets cold out, John gives you his dark gray trench coat, which he wears over his denim jacket most of the time

* John doesn't like to show it, but he's a huge softie

* Whenever things get back at home, he goes over to your house and knocks/throws pebbles at your window

* You let him in, and he sits on your bed in silence, before tears start pouring down his face and he puts his elbows on his knees, and his hands cover his face

* You would never pressure him into telling you what happened until he was ready to tell you

* As you'd sit next to him, John would lean into your figure, so you'd hold him

* Your touch would calm him down lowkey

* He would never admit it though

* Laying together in your bed listening to his and yours favourite songs while he smoked

* You call him Johnny sometimes

* He pretends he's annoyed by the nickname but he loves it

* John isn't really about the whole marriage thing

* But he still gets you a ring which whatever money he has

* It might not be the most pricey thing in the world, but you're in love with it

* Going to the corner store and having to stop him from stealing small things like cigarettes, lighters, matches

* John still manages to take things that could benefit him, but also you as well

* He has a knife kink

* Honestly, sex with John can either be rough or passionate, showing that he does love you

* Speaking of the ‘L’ word, the first time it was spoken in your relationship was when it was raining outside

* You were both at the park when it started raining

* John wanted to go home, but you thought otherwise and pulled him with you and ran in the street with him

* John sort of understood what you were doing, and ran with you with a smile on his face and you were laughing

* For the first time in a long time, John felt free

* Free from the constraints of the world, and the abuse from his home life

* He stopped you from running and you looked at him, put of breath as he leaned down and kissed you in the middle of the street, in the pouring rain

* “I love you.”

* You smiled at him brightly as you leaned up to him, and brushed your lips against his before you said “I love you too.”

* You both kissed once more before John noticed a pair of headlights coming in your direction

* He pulled you by your arm to the sidewalk as the car drove by, and John held you by your waist, so your back was pressed against him

* You were laughing in his arms before he started laughing along with you

* You both laughed on the way back home, and John knew you were the one

Not A Verstappen: A New World {9}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Two more races closer to the end of the season and all that means is the competition is fiercer than ever and every point is a battle to win. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, assault, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten

Round Sixteen - Singapore GP

Charles was worried about you. You had barely said a word since the race ended, only congratulating your boyfriends on their great results. You were disappointed in yourself for finishing last place. Technically it was 15th place but everyone behind you had DNF’d so you were the last one to cross the finish line.

The bath did little to ease the tension embroiled in your body and you sank down beneath the surface. A wavering image of Charles filled your vision as he took a seat at the edge of the bathtub and trickled his fingers through the water. Only when your lungs began to burn did you resurface with a deep gasp for fresh air.

“You’re going to catch a cold, ma chérie,” Charles said softly as he wiped away the rivulets of water. It was almost like he knew they were mixed with your tears. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you whispered. “I think I am just going to stay in tonight, I don’t want to hold you back from celebrating. You guys did great today.”

“You are being too hard on yourself. It sucks, Lando and I know that first hand,” he chuckled, referring back to the first half of the season. “But you’ll come back stronger, I know you. You’ll be back in the points next week.”

You smiled weakly at his confidence and accepted his hand that helped pull you from the bath. “Are you willing to bet on that?”

“D'accord,” he nodded, wrapping you tightly in a towel before kissing your forehead. “I have faith in you, mon amour.”

“That makes one of us,” you joked, feeling a little better now that you were wrapped in his arms. “You should get ready to go, Lando is going to need you to carry him home tonight.”

“Mon Dieu, him and Carlos drinking together,” Charles groaned as if just realising what he was in for. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

You nodded and stepped out of the bathroom to grab your phone. “I think there is another Verstappen somewhere around here feeling sorry for himself too, and misery loves company.”

Max arrived before Lando had finished styling his hair and he came bearing gifts, a bag of mouthwatering food packed full of local dishes in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other. 

“Now it’s a pity party,” you laughed as he made himself comfortable in the living room. He didn’t even bother with plates, just eating straight out of the containers while he changed the channel off MTV. “Are you planning on sharing or do I need to order my own?”

“Depends if you care what Kristian thinks,” he shrugged, pushing a container aside. He grinned knowing you couldn’t turn down the grilled kebabs slathered in a sauce that would give your PT a heart attack. “Live dangerously, zusje.”

You snorted and dropped into the seat beside him, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and the dish from the coffee table. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh, heard that before,” he teased as continued to flick through the channels until he hit the movies. “Fast X?”

“No,” Lando answered for you as he finally appeared from the bathroom with his hair perfectly styled and his shirt half unbuttoned. He explained that it was to combat the humidity in the country but you and Charles knew it was because he loved to flash his tanned and toned chest, almost as much as you liked to see it. “She’ll get pissed off that it is too unrealistic.”

“It is unrealistic,” you pointed out.

Max laughed, “It’s a movie.” But he still changed the channel. “Maverick? The original.”

“Sure,” Charles said with a grin as he pulled his shoes on, “if you want to comfort her when Goose dies.”

“You are impossible.” Max shook his head and tossed the remote on your lap. “You choose something.”

Ready to leave, Charles looked like he was going to ask you if you had changed your mind before thinking better of it. Instead he kissed you as innocently as he could manage with your brother sitting beside you. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you too, have fun.” You held your hand out to Lando and pulled him down to your height for a kiss too. “Not too much fun. I don’t want to wake up to any new CarLando rumours.”

He knew you were joking and he nipped your bottom lip for it before pulling away and holding his necklace up. “Holy trinity, baby: you, Charles and me.”

“That’s why you are missing your top three buttons,” Charles teased as he slung his arm over Lando’s shoulder. “All for the necklace and definitely not vanity.”

“Me? Vain? Never,” Lando scoffed. “I am humble, thank you very much.”

“Mhmm, so humble, mon cher,” Charles agreed sarcastically as he led them to the door before blowing you one final kiss. “Bonne nuit.”

Round Seventeen - Japan GP

Lawrence wanted to speak to you after the race finished and you hoped it was because he had some answers as to why the car was struggling. The upgrades seemed to make it worse and it was a hell of a push just to get back in the points, but you had made it like Charles assured you would.

Walking into Lance’s side of the garage, you assumed his father would be nearby. What you didn’t account for was Lance storming through the engineers after his DNF. It was a moment of wrong place at the wrong time that put you into his path and you felt the need to at least say something to him.

“Sorry, man, that was a rough one.” Hindsight was a real charmer as his green eyes narrowed with rage and you were shoved to the floor. Your ass met the hard concrete and the garage fell silent as they witnessed the attack.

Your shoulders ached where he had pushed you, but your butt would surely have bruises come morning. Calmly, you swallowed down the pain as the cameras waited for your reaction and you rose to your feet. You wiped the dust from your backside and looked at Lance. “At least I know how you injured your wrists, you’re a real fucking wanker.”

Word spread like wildfire as the footage was shared around the paddock and the world and your call to the Stewards came before Lando finished his podium celebration, the first you hadn’t been there to witness. It only added to your sour mood as you stepped into the meeting room and found an empty chair opposite Lawrence and Lance. You were by no means alone but everyone who had been asked to come as witness were all on Lawrences bank roll so you might as well have been.

The tedious hearing details were read by the Stewards, along with footage that showed the push that put you on your ass. They turned to Lance first, asking for his take on the event and whispered with his father before sitting back.

“It was an accident, I didn’t see her there.”

You scoffed under your breath but caught the look Lawrence sent you as the Steward asked you the same question. It was a look that everyone had warned you about. It was the look that drew the line in the sand of who had his support, and why wouldn’t he take his son’s side - he was a father first and a principal second. It was a look that said you would be finding another team next year if you weren’t careful.

Looking down at your hands the words tasted like ash. “Like Lance said, it was an accident.”

The steward nodded and typed some notes on his laptop. “Then the matter is settled, you will be fined €20,000.00 for unsportsmanlike behaviour.”

You lunged out of your seat and slammed your hands on the table at the ruling. “For what!”

“You saw the same evidence as I did,” he said, ignoring your outburst. “You clearly called Mr Stroll, Lance, a ‘fucking wanker’ on live tv. If that is all, we have another review about to begin.”

You left the room to see Bottas and Sargeant waiting with their team representatives and kept your head low as you passed by, feeling their curious eyes following. Lawrence kept pace with you as you left the building, Lance lagging somewhere behind, and you debated breaking into a sprint to see if the old man could keep up.

“Thank you,” Lawrence said, nearly making you trip over in surprise.

“Thank you?” you growled as you turned on him. “I saved your toddler’s career, you can do better than a fucking ‘thank you’.”

“Lance is struggling and it’s affecting him badly, but that’s no excuse for how he treated you.” Lawrence placed a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off as you remembered the look in the meeting room. You may both be wearing the same colours but you were not on the same team.

“You can still be a good father and not protect him from everything. In fact, it might just do him a lot of good in getting his head out of his ass. Now, I am going to go and take an ice bath and you are going to pay my fine. If there’s a bonus in my bank account when I get back to the hotel, we’ll call it even.”

You left without giving him the time to respond and jogged back to hospitality, an unfortunately long distance from the FIA building. Some of the teams were already starting to pack their motorhomes down but Aston Martin was still lively, even more so when you stepped inside and saw Charles, Lando and Max looking tense amongst a group of Lance’s friends that travelled with him .

“Woah, stand down, killers,” you teased with a flippant attitude you didn’t feel. “Shouldn’t you take it out to the parking lot?”

“Too many witnesses,” Max muttered.

“I was joking, we can all relax. You three, my room. Now.” You pointed your finger to the stairs and waited for them to start walking before you followed, glaring at the rest of them. “Don’t you have more important things to do, like I don’t know, check Lance has warm milk in his sippy cup?”

“Little bitch.”

“Fils de pute, va te faire enculer!”

You blocked the stairs but Max had already grabbed Charles and held him back. “That’s an insult to his mother,” you said as the door opened and Lance arrived. “It’s not her fault her son is a sycophant, and here’s his sugar daddy now. Tighten the leash on your little friends, Lance. It’s the least you can do since you owe me.”

His lips twisted into a grimace at the reminder but he jutted his head to the other end of the motorhome and his friends followed him, their disappointment palpable. You could only imagine what he had been telling them in private to create that sort of reaction and realised why the driver had gone through so many teammates on the grid. He was insufferable.

You gently pushed on Charles’ arm when he didn’t move, he was intently watching the group leave and the staff return back to their jobs as if nothing happened. “Come on, babe, let’s just get my stuff and go home.”

“Since when are you the rational one?” Max asked as he led the way with Lando and left you to hook your arm with Charles and follow.

“Maybe I’m finally maturing.” you said with a grin that finally had the tension lifting as they all started to laugh. “Rude.”

Click here for the next part.

NSFW Alphabet SHAWN MICHEALS HEADCANONS

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Shawn’s a cuddled. He’d never admit that shit out loud but he LOVES to be in your skin after sex. He wants to be under you and babied. Tell anyone and he’d deny it all.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Shawn’s favorite body part of his is his hands. He loves how much bigger they are compared to yours and he loves when you grab his hand when you’re nervous or scared.

His favorite body part of yours is your ass. It doesn’t matter how small it is or how big it is. Shawn is an ass man. He’s always smacking it when you walk down the gorilla with him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Shawn likes to come on you. Specifically on your face and tits. He doesn’t know if it’s some territorial thing or what but he loves to cum in your underwear and make you wear them out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Shawn likes to spit in your mouth. He once was really amped after a match and caught dragged you into his locker room “Open up baby.” You open your mouth and feel his warm spit hit your tongue. “Swallow.” It’s more of a demand than anything.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s extremely experienced he’s older than you and has definitely had a many trips around the sun lol.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Shawn’s favorite position is doggy. He loves hitting it from behind then pulling you up for a sloppy kiss. Sometimes he makes you arch your back more and you can almost feel him In your tummy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Shawn is kinda goofy. More so during foreplay he’ll crack a shitty joke and chuckle in between pecks.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Shawn is decently well groomed. He’s a pretty boy so he keeps up with his appearance. He grows a lot of hair there so he keeps it neatly trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a lot softer during intimacy. He gives you sweet kisses and everything is so much more sensual.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates a lot when you’re not around. He’s crazy about you so he’s not going touch another woman.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Shawn has a brat taming kink. He lowkey loves it when you get an attitude because it gives him an excuse to remind you why you should be a good girl.

He has marking kink. He purposefully puts hickeys in visible spots so he can make sure everyone sees them

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to pull you into the broom closets backstage and fuck you against the wall “sssh if you get too loud somebody might hear you pretty.” Shawn would cover your mouth as he stroked deeper inside of you with a shit eating grin. He would let you walk out with a panty full of cum to his dressing room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you wear skimpy little ring outfits. Honestly he loves when you wear skimpy outfits no matter what. He likes for guys to know they can look but not touch. He likes when you tug on his hair something about just gets him going in all the right places.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He does not do anything to do with pee or poop.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Shawn likes to receive. He likes to see you gagging on his dick with tears running down your face. You’re such a pretty girl choking on him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Shawn rough and slow. He wants you to enjoy every damn moment with him but he just likes it a little rough it general. He can’t help himself. Seeing the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lips as he gives you agonizing slow strokes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Shawn is always up for a quickie even at the most inappropriate of times and you regularly have to tell him no you will not meet him the McDonalds bathroom. As Paul sits obliviously next to you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Shawn is a risk taker he once convinced you to let him fuck with the curtains open in your hotel room. It was thrilling hoping nobody peered up and saw your tits squished against the glass as Shawn took you from behind.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Shawn can go two rounds sometimes 3. Mostly two though he has a lot of energy and you’re his favorite stress ball.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He once bought you vibrating panties and made you walk down the gorilla with him. It’s the only toy he uses on you and god does he use it at the most inconvenient times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tease should be his middle fucking name. He’s always placing little kisses on your sweet spot. He’s rubbing your thigh under the table and feeling up your ass while taking pictures with fans.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Shawn’s a vocal boy and you love it. The way he fists your hair as he lets out a throaty groan. How he lets out pretty moan when you suck the tip just right.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He once fucked you in Hunter’s locker room. You wouldn’t call it your finest hour. He thinks fondly on it lol.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Shawn has a pretty dick. It’s pretty thick with one vein going up the under side of it and flushed tip when he’s hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Shawn is always down to fuck. When he hurt his back he almost begged you with puppy dog eyes to ride him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost immediately after. He’s a huge on cuddling even when you whine to try and get up and take a shower he’s not having it. He pulls you close mumbles something about tomorrow and passes out on your stomach.

Hiii, first of if I just want to say that I absolutely love your stories. Secondly could you perhaps write a bit more about Dark! Charles and Alex x Reader like maybe Reader had a child or something like that only if you’re comfortable with that of course

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl

Attention: this is just a story! Nothing what is happening here, is happening in real life.

Part 1 Part 2

Obsession

Yn’s days had fallen into an odd rhythm, one she never thought would define her life. From the moment Charles and Alexandra had taken her, she had slowly adjusted to her new reality, though not willingly. Their twisted love and obsessive protectiveness were suffocating. And now, with her baby boy, Theo, in the picture, their fixation had only grown.

She tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, even under their constant watch. Like today, she insisted on taking Theo for a walk. Alexandra, as usual, trailed behind her, her presence an unyielding shadow.

---

Yn pushed the stroller along the serene pathway, breathing in the crisp air. It was one of those rare moments of peace where she felt almost human again.

"Enjoying the fresh air, mon amour?" Alexandra's voice was a sultry purr, her heels clicking against the cobblestone path as she sauntered closer. Yn didn’t answer, pretending to focus on Theo instead.

"Don’t ignore me," Alexandra warned, her tone firm but laced with amusement. She reached out and placed a possessive hand on Yn’s hip before sliding it down to her butt. Yn flinched but tried to stay calm for Theo’s sake.

“Do you have to be so handsy all the time?” Yn snapped, unable to contain her frustration.

Alexandra smirked and spun Yn around to face her, ignoring the protest. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Yn’s ear as she whispered, "Of course I do. You're mine, Yn. Ours."

Before Yn could respond, Alexandra’s hand moved to her stomach, caressing it with an unsettling reverence. Her eyes lit up with an obsessive glow.

"You’ve already given us one perfect little boy," Alexandra murmured, her gaze shifting briefly to Theo, who was babbling happily in the stroller. "But I think it’s time for another. Don’t you agree?"

Yn froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "What are you talking about?"

Alexandra tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Oh, you know exactly what I mean." She leaned in further, capturing Yn’s lips in a firm, possessive kiss. Yn tried to pull away, but Alexandra held her firmly in place, her hands gripping Yn’s waist as if she would never let go.

When Alexandra finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead against Yn’s, her voice soft but filled with determination. "Another baby, Yn. You’re going to give us another baby."

---

By the time they returned home, Yn’s nerves were frazzled. Theo had fallen asleep, his tiny fists curled against his chest, blissfully unaware of the tension between the adults.

As soon as they stepped inside, Charles appeared, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Yn and Theo. "There’s my family," he said warmly, his French accent thick. He approached Yn, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that always made her uneasy.

“Charles,” Yn greeted stiffly, trying to sidestep him, but he was quicker. He caught her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.

“Charles, what are you doing?” she protested, but he ignored her, stepping between her legs and holding her hips firmly.

“You look beautiful, mon amour,” he said, his voice low as his hands slid to her waist. He leaned in, kissing her neck, then her jawline, and finally her lips. Unlike Alexandra’s kiss earlier, Charles’ was gentler but no less possessive.

“Stop,” Yn muttered against his lips, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“You’ve already given me the most wonderful gift,” Charles murmured, his hand moving to her stomach. “Theo is perfect. But I can’t help wanting more.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “I want another baby, Yn. I want to see you glowing with life again.”

Yn shook her head, panic rising in her chest. “Charles, I can’t… I won’t—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, kissing her again, his hands gripping her waist. “We’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

---

Dinner was a quiet affair, but the tension was palpable. Alexandra and Charles exchanged looks across the table, their shared obsession evident. Yn ate in silence, her appetite diminished by their earlier declarations.

After Theo was tucked in for the night, Yn tried to retreat to her room, hoping for a moment of solitude. But she didn’t make it far.

“Going somewhere, mon amour?” Alexandra’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Yn turned to find both Alexandra and Charles standing there, their expressions a mix of adoration and hunger.

“I’m tired,” Yn said quickly, but neither of them seemed to care. Alexandra closed the distance between them first, cupping Yn’s face in her hands and kissing her deeply.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Alexandra whispered against her lips, her hands sliding down Yn’s body.

Charles joined them, pulling Yn close from behind. His hands rested on her hips as he pressed kisses to her neck. “We’re not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice filled with promise.

Yn felt trapped between them, their touches overwhelming. Alexandra’s fingers traced her stomach again, while Charles’ hands roamed her waist.

“You’re ours, Yn,” Alexandra said softly, her lips brushing against Yn’s ear. “And we want to grow our family. Don’t we, Charles?”

“Absolutely,” Charles agreed, turning Yn to face him. He kissed her deeply, his hands anchoring her in place. “Another baby, Yn. It’s all we want.”

They didn’t give her a chance to protest, their kisses and touches silencing her words. Yn’s mind raced, torn between fear and the strange, inescapable pull of their obsessive love.

She knew one thing for sure: escape wasn’t an option. Not when Charles and Alexandra had made it clear—they would never let her go.

Films of Anger

part 2

sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader

summary: brocedes 2.0 basically. childhood best friend's fight on track turns into a fight in real life

warning: light angst with a bit of fluff sprinkled in xD

"Papa, let me go!" Michael Schumacher's arms around you were the only thing that stopped you from attacking Sebastian right now. You fought against the stone grip around your body, trying to reach for Sebastian, who was held back by Kimi, though he wasn't exactly fighting much against the Fin's grip.

Michael moved his head down so it was leveled with your own. "You have to calm down." His usually soft voice when he spoke to you, was stoic. You were scared to look at him after hearing it so close to you.

"He almost killed me!" You insisted, voice firey as you stared Sebastian down. Your statement was followed by aggressive shouting from both you and Sebastian, catching the attention from all around. Although most of the people couldn't understand the angry german words leaving either of your lips, the tone spoke more than words could.

"If you drove properly, neither of us would have DNF'd." Sebastian shouted. Once again you started to fight your fathers iron grip, trying to fight Sebastian. You heard your father huff, and felt your feet leave the ground as the man behind you lifted you up in the air, to carry you off.

"Papa!" You shouted, wiggling your body. "Let me down!"

"I let you down if you promise not to try and beat up Sebastian and come and talk to me."  He announced carrying you around the paddock. The more distance he brought between you and Sebastain, the more embarrassment started to fill you after noticing the many judging looks people threw at you. Cameras were locked onto the two of you, filming the whole ordeal.

"I promise. I swear, we can talk, just please let me down." You said quickly. Michael nodded and let you down, his hands though stayed put on your shoulders to make sure that you won't run off.

"Do you want me to grap your mother?" Michael asked, looking down at you, but you just shook your head. You didn't want to see the disappointing look in her eyes, knowing that she probably saw the whole scene live on TV in the garage. "No." "

Alright." Michael nodded, one arm thrown around your shoulders, the other gripping the other. Silently he led you through the paddock. You kept your head down, still feeling eyes and cameras set on you, trying to get a look at your face. Your father threw each and everyone a look that silenced them without doubt.

He was well aware of the stupidity of the situation you and Sebastian acted upon, but he didn't think that it was anybody's business to know what truly went on.

When you passed the garages you frowned, thinking that Michael was gonna drag you into a silent corner of the Ferrari or Mercedes garage, but your journey went on towards the motor homes. Pushing into the Ferrari Motor home, you went through the halls up to your drivers room.

When the door closed your shoulders dropped, sluggish you moved to the couch, throwing yourself onto the cushions. You felt your father's presence standing by the door and without a look, you knew what he looked like. Like waves, the questions rolled off of him.

Trying to waste time before you had to speak, you opened your driving suit to let your body cool down from the heated situation.

"What happend?" His voice broke the tension. You thought you were prepared for anger in his voice, but all you heard was sympathy, and that broke you. Tears filled your eyes, while you tries to keep it together you looked up through swimming sight. Your voice was on the verge of breaking as you spoke.

"I messed up, Papa." Michael sighed at the sight of you. He wanted to be angry, but how could he when you looked so broken. He shook his head, moving to sit next to you and pull you in his arms.

"What happened?" He asked again head on top of your own. You had your head pressed against his chest, breathing heavily.

"I think I broke our friendship off." You muttered thinking about what happened just after the race.

__

1996

The first time you met Sebastian was when your were seven years old. He was nine and just won a race. Your father was the one handing out the trophies.

You weren't old enough to drive in the same league as Sebastian yet, but you were always tagging alongside your father when it came to anything racing related. It was your thing. Papa and Y/N's thing.

Racing was what connected you. The hours you spent in your garage building on your kart alongside your father. Nothing brought you more contentment than that.

It was lunch time when you were standing by a concession stand waiting for your food, when little Sebastian approached to order his own.

"What did you get?" He asked noticing your wide eyes looking up at the counter, waiting impatiently on your food. When the little blonde boy spoke, you looked over. An adorable smile graced his face when he noticed your wide eyes.

"Currywurst. For me and my Papa." You had announced to him, giving a toothy grin. Sebastian nodded excitedly.

"It's his favourite." You added whispering as if it was the most important secret. Sebastian laughed leaning over to you to answer in the same hushed voice. "It's my favourite as well."

Giggling filled the air around the two of you.

"I just saw you race." You told him after the giggles stopped. "I think you were really good, and so did my Papa."

The blonde boy blushed lightly looking down at his shoes.

"Thank you."

"Did you race as well, or a sibling?" He asked but you shook your head. "I do race, but I'm not old enough to race with you. I'm here because my Papa was giving out the trophies."

Sebastian halted, his eyes were wide as he stared at you. You titled your head at him, although you were used to these types of reactions from people, it never seized to amaze you what kind of presence your fathers name had on people.

"Your father is Michael Schumacher?" Sebastian stuttered, making you nod. Humming you agreed with a bright smile. Pride swelling in your chest at the thought of your dad and his impression on the young boy in front of you.

"That is so cool." Sebastian exclaimed, jumping on the spot. You giggled at his excitement, listening on to Sebastian's words. "He's my hero. And one day, I'll be just like him."

That was your first of many meetings with the blonde haired boy you would call your best friend for many years. At one point you started karting together, slowly moving up the leagues until you both landed in formula one.

Sebastian had already been in formula one. Having moved from Toro Rosso to RedBull, when you finally joined formula one as well, signing your contract with Ferrari. The announcement didn't just make you beyond happy, but Sebastian and Michael as well. It was what you all had dreamed about, the three of you driving together in formula one. Sebastian and you driving alongside your childhood hero. Driving alongside your best friend and your father.

It was like a fairytale come to life. And even the hate and doubts from the outside world couldn't kill the joy you felt. It was all magical, until the inevitable had to happen.

It was always a fight on track. Even if you were friends beside it, on track everyone was your enemy. And especially when you were young and wanted to prove something, that could mean nothing less of reckless behaviour. Sebastian was a model example of exactly that. It was an one on one between the two of you.

You were leading, Sebastian wanted through. Obviously you didn't want that so you defended. And that was the moment when it all went down. You were coming out of a curve. Sebastain was on your right, overstearing, you still weren't sure if that was on purpose, but almost knocking you off the track.

Trying to keep your car steady, your front wing interlinked with his car. You both noticed too late what was happening, simultaneously trying to pull away from the others, and knocking you both out, while trying to get away from the other.

In your mind it was clearly Sebastian's fault for overstearing. In Sebastian's it was you for hitting his car trying to get back in track.

Michael sighed. He hadn't had time to watch the footage of what exactly happened, yet. All he knew was that the two of them had an accident and DNF'd no one told him what exactly happened. He was just on his way to rewatch the accident and to look for his kid to make sure she was alright when he came across the screaming match.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." He told you.

You shook your head against him, tightening your arms around the man. "That wasn't the bad part. I tried to talk to him after, but he was mad, Papa. Like proper mad."

__

When you were wheeled back into the garage, you couldn't stop tapping the wheel out of impatience. You were itching to give Sebastian a piece of your mind.

What in the world was he thinking, trying to push you off the track. Was he crazy?

When everything was good you stepped out of your car, took off your helmet and the HANS, before storming off. A few of the Ferrari mechanics tried to stop you, but you moved out of their way, before running off towards the RedBull garage.

It was the last lap, how could Sebastian be so stupid to risk it all at the last lap.

From afar you could see the grimace your friend had on his face as he spoke to his engineer. When he saw you, his brows furrowed and his face formed into a grimace, similar to the one you had.

"Sebastian, are you fucking crazy or what?!" You shouted in german fron afar as you approached the boy. The blonde looked at you angrily. 

"Me? What were you thinking crashing right into me? This isn'tfucking bumper cars."

"Yes, exactly, it isn't." You agreed, stopping beside him right in front of the RedBull garage. "So why in the world did you think knocking me off track was a good idea?"

"Knocking you off track. Fucking hell, there was enough space a fucking hippo could have walked past." He hissed back, eyes filled with an angry fire. "It's your fault, you can't fucking drive. The only reason your even in formula one is because your father is fucking Michael Schumacher."

"Oh, let's be fucking real, Sebastian." You shouted. "You know that that is not the reason, I fought for my place, just like you did. And if you look at the listing you would see that I've got the numbers to prove it, because I am in front of you."

"Oh, piss of will you." He shouted back.

Neither of you noticed it, but your voices hot louder and angrier the more you spoke catching the attention of many bystanders and drivers getting back to the pits after finishing the race.

"If you think you're so much better then get on with it, will you. But I will prove to you that I am much better than you are, little rich kid"

You saw red at his indication. Of course you had the money, you knew your family was rich, but you told the boy often enough that you hated being reduced to simply that. That the thought of being reduced to only being a spoiled little kid was something you despised.

That was the moment you tried to leap at him, though Kimi Räikkönen pulled him back before you could get to him, while you felt your fathers arms around you.

As you told him exactly what happened you felt his arms tighten around you. You knew he was angry with Sebastian about talking to you like that, but he tried to hide it.

"Oh, Schatz." He mused strocking a hand over your hair. "I'm sure it is only half as bad. You both probably just need some time to cool off and the you speak again."

Michael was trying to be reassuring. Always the positive thinker, the joy bringer. He was always trying to see the best in people and he knew that Sebastian wasn't a bad person. He's known him since he was a little boy. Michael hoped that it really was all just because of the heat of the moment. Even if the words spoken were cruel in nature, he hoped that they had not broken your friendship, which had gone through so much already.

"It's gonna be alright, Maus." He muttered into your hair.

the grid: confesses!

Day 30 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

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Oscar Piastri: someone is dense…

Your dad was busy showing you the strategy plan, one of the many perks of being Zak Brown’s daughter. You’d been working in the paddock for over a year, working as one of Lando’s main mechanics, but your dad still liked to show you the plan for the day. He would’ve probably preferred you to be into the marketing / strategy side of F1 since there’s less of a chance of you getting run over in the pitlane if you’re not in the pitlane, but the heart wants what the heart wants and it wanted to be a mechanic, more specifically, a front jackman. 

“Y/n!” Lando all but jumped on your back. “Osc wants to talk to you.”

Oscar Piastri. You had been flirting with him for months. A week ago you gave up and stopped, just being friendly with him instead, since he clearly wasn’t interested. 

“Where is he?” you asked, shoving him off your back. 

“Driver’s room,” he shrugged. “Where else would he be?”

Oscar was a very big fan of sleeping in his driver’s room before a race, of course he’d be in there. 

You made your way to the McLaren motorhome and knocked on his door. He opened it, looking flushed and shirtless. 

“Hi,” you smiled. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“I did- do. I do,” he nodded awkwardly. “Come in,” he opened the door enough for you to come in. 

“Thank you,” you said, trying to not stare at him too hard. “What’s up?”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked immediately. 

You were taken aback, shocked that Oscar would ever be that direct. “No, why?”

“You’ve been… weird this week.” 

“Oh! That!” you chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve just stopped flirting with you.”

His face fell. “What?”

“I stopped flirting with you?” you answered again. 

“W-why? When were you flirting with me?” he asked, looking increasingly stressed. 

“Why what? Why was I flirting with you?” You questioned. “Because I have a crush on you. I’ve been flirting with you since my first day.” 

He sighed and put his face in his hands.

“You haven’t exactly reciprocated so I stopped. I just kind of assumed that you weren’t interested, which is fine, by the way,” you explained. “We’re great friends, I’m happy with that.”

“I’m so fucking dense,” he cursed. 

You chuckled. “What?”

“I obviously like you back,” he looked back up. “I thought you were just being nice.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m just as nice and touchy with Lando, of course,” you said sarcastically. “You really are dense.” 

He shook his head. “I haven’t completely fucked this up yet, have I?”

You shook your head. “No,” you pressed your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Not yet.” 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you,” he pressed his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You chuckled. What a dork. 

Your dork. 

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Lando Norris: years of pining… 

He watched as you once again, came in from a date crying. You two had lived together since you’d finished college and moved to Monaco to start your new job (and be closer to Lando), and he watched as you tried and failed with the Monaco dating scene. 

“I fucking hate men!” you cried as he held you in his arms. It had gone the same way it had all the other times, you’d come in crying, Lando would sit with you and order food, holding you and listening as you vented about this asshole guy. Honestly, it made him want to hunt them down and kill them with his bare hands, but he settled for being the kind best friend, biding his time until he could finally tell you. 

“We suck,” he chuckled, agreeing. 

“I just want a fucking normal, nice guy. Is that too much to ask for?” you groaned in frustration. 

“Well, I’m right here,” he mumbled before he could stop himself. You were silent. He was silent. You both froze. The air in the room was much too thick. 

“You mean that?” you asked, your eyes wide and staring into his. He nodded, too nervous to verbally respond. 

“What guy wouldn’t? You’re perfect,” he finally whispered out. He felt how your heart beat sped up. 

Then your lips were on his and he knew he was a goner. 

You were perfect. And now, you were his. 

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Lewis Hamilton: eavesdropping…

“I’m fucking in love with her, and she doesn’t even look my way,” Lewis groaned, laying back on the couch. 

Never in a million years did George ever think that he’d be sitting in his hero’s drivers room with him, giving him relationship advice. 

“She looks at you plenty,” he shrugged. “But she’s usually giving out to you.”

Lewis shot him an unimpressed look. “Thanks.” 

George laughed. “Just ask her out!”

Lewis groaned again. Y/n Wolff. Toto’s princess. You were untouchable. You were a genius. You were beautiful, inside and out. “She hates me.”

“I don’t,” you said plainly. 

Both of the men shot straight up, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I actually quite like you Lewis,” you added with a smile. “You should try asking me out sometime.” 

George did everything in his power to not laugh, but he failed and burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

Lewis just nodded, much too embarrassed to speak. 

“My dad wants you George,” you told him, actually fulfilling the reason you had come to their drivers rooms. “See you both on the grid.” 

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George Russell: upfront 

George stood awkwardly at your door. He was finally going to do it, he was going to ask you out.

“George!” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You’re back.”

George was your neighbour, a very kind neighbour. He was obsessed with you. You were so kind, so funny, so beautiful. He had befriended you out of pure friendliness, he wanted to be a good neighbour (and he was on the HOA (Home Owners Association) of the building). Those quick conversations in the hall had turned into a monthly dinner night, and small dinner dates whenever he was in Monaco. 

“I am,” he smiled, hugging you back. 

You led him in, the smell of your cooking already making him salivate, but he had a question to ask first. 

“I’d like to take you out on a date sometime. A real date,” he said confidently, though he didn’t feel like it.

Your face broke out into a bright smile. “I’d like that too.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“Good.” 

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Alex Albon: awkward blind date…

You sat across from Tucker, the guy your friend was ‘so sure’ you’d be interested in, with a shocked expression. There was no way he actually said what he just said, right? 

“Y’know what I mean?” he chuckled at his own ‘joke’. 

“No. I don’t,” you gritted out. “I think I’m going to go now, please don’t call me.” 

You got up to leave, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you. 

“Where would you be going?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. 

“Get off her,” a British voice demanded. Behind you were now 3 men, the 3 men you had begged to not stalk your date, but now you were pretty happy they were there. Behind you stood Alex, George, and Fernando. 

“And what are you going to do about it? She’s my girlfriend-”

“No I’m fucking not,” you seethed. “Get off me, prick,” you elbowed him in the face and got your arm free, speeding out of the restaurant and handing the waitress a large tip. You turned to the 3 men, scoffed and started walking off down the street. 

Alex followed behind you as George and Fernando hung back. 

“I know you’re mad-” he started. 

“Yeah Alex! I’m fucking pissed! I ask you to leave me alone for fucking once. To trust me once. And you can’t even do that!” you shouted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Y/n, you don’t understand-”

“Understand what?!” you shouted, finally stopping in the street. “Understand that you don’t trust me-?!”

“That I’m in love with you!” he shouted. 

You froze. “If you’re joking-”

“Why the fuck would I joke about that?” 

You nodded. “It would be a pretty shitty thing to joke about.”

“I’m not joking!”

“I know!” you chuckled. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

He blushed. “I…”

He gave up and kissed you again. 

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Daniel Riccardo: drunk. He’s drunk. 

You somehow got him into his own bed, but, as per usual, he started begging you to join him, calling you his ‘personal teddy bear’. 

“Y/N!” he whined. “I’m hot!” 

“Take off the covers,” you instructed, chuckling at his drunken state. 

“You want me to take off my clothes?” he smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Daniel,” you warned. 

“Y/n,” he matched your tone. “Come on! We’d be so hot together! You’re gorgeous and smart and you look really good when you roll your eyes, and I always make you roll your eyes! It’s a win-win!” 

You chuckled. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love!” he corrected. “Come on baby, give me a chance.”

You couldn’t even tell if he was joking anymore. “We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“And I can kiss you now,” he decided and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You couldn’t taste any alcohol on him. None at all. 

“You liar!” you pulled away, laughing. He laughed too, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I needed to gauge your reaction,” he laughed. “Seems to me you agree.” 

You shook your head, laughing, but kissed him again all the same. 

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Charles LeClerc: quite the charmer (not). 

You rolled your eyes as Charles walked into the room. He was such a charmer. That’s what your mother called him anyway. Being the sister of Carlos Sainz, you grew up in the shadows which meant you were always a little different from your family. The main point being the fact that you drove on 2 wheels instead of 4, like everyone else. A MotoGP winner, that’s what you were. And as much as your parents pretended to like it, you know they would’ve preferred you pick a safer mode of racing, like horse racing or something boring. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered. 

And then there was the Charles problem. Your parents were set on the idea of Charles LeClerc having a crush on you, and you having a crush on him. You thought he was nice, good looking enough, and kind, but you didn’t like like him, did you? No. Definitely not. And him like liking you back? Impossible. 

“Charles!” your mother smiled. “It’s so good to see you!”

He exchanged pleasantries with her for a few moments, then finally turned his attention to you. 

“Y/n, how are you?” he smiled. 

“Good thanks, you?” you asked, your tone short. 

“Good. I was wondering if we could talk,” he nervously fidgeted with his hands. 

“We are talking,” you pointed out. 

He rolled his eyes. “Somewhere private.” 

“Ok?” you questioned, following him to his drivers room. 

“I like you a lot, like, a lot, a lot, but Carlos will never ever let me ask you out. I just wanted to tell you just so you know why I am stand-off-ish. It is because of-” 

He stopped talking because you had started kissing him. Maybe you did like him… just a little bit. 

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Max Verstappen: upfront, awkward, unapologetic. 

Y’know those people that just never learnt manners or social cues? Yeah, that was Max. Your friends had looked at you in horror when you brought him into the group, shocked that you’d ever start a friendship with someone as awkward and socially unintelligent as him. It’s not that Max wasn’t social intelligent, he just didn’t give a fuck. If one of your other guy-friends (the ones that all thought they had a chance with you) starts talking or (god-forbid) touching you? Max is in there, getting between you two as soon as humanly possible. He clings to you like a fucking leech, and makes sure the others know it. 

When you told them he had asked you out, not one of the girls was surprised. Of course, you’d said yes, and of course, you were ecstatic. 

At the next get-together, Brad (one of your asshole guy-friends) asked him how he did it. 

“I just asked her,” he gritted out. “She said yes, I took her out and we’ve been together since.” 

Brad shook his head, chuckling. “She’s not easy to pin down.” 

“She is when she wants you,” he smirked, making eye contact with you out on the dance floor. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi@linnygirl09@lanadelray1989@teamnovalak@gleeblegnarp

WE LISTEN AND WE DON’T JUDGE.

pairing. Pedro Pascal x younger! fem! reader

synopsis. you and Pedro do the we listen and we don’t judge trend.

warnings. mention of age gap (late 20s/late 40s), short fic.

babs’ notes. guys ik this trend isn’t trend anymore but i just had to write it

EVEN THOUGH YOU DIDN’T WANT TO ADMIT IT, you were a chronically online person. You weren’t particularly proud of it, but the constant stream of trends on TikTok was enough to keep you entertained for hours.

You loved to post mini vlogs and grwms videos on TikTok. It was fun to do, and the bonus money it brought in was a welcome perk. The creative process of filming, editing, and sharing snippets of your life with the world brought you a sense of joy and fulfillment.

On the other hand, Pedro was content with simply posting stories on Instagram. Being an older man, his Instagram was a bit chaotic, yet endearingly so. He mostly posted pictures with you, capturing beautiful moments and showcasing your love and adventures together.

So when you saw the TikTok trend We Listen and We Don’t Judge, where partners share little, harmless secrets, you just knew you had to do it with Pedro.

To your surprise, it didn’t take much to convince him; he was always up for these kinds of fun. What took longer was explaining the trend to him, but somehow, you managed to get through it.

You pressed record, and both of you said in unison, “We Listen and we don’t judge.” You couldn't help but notice Pedro's adorable expression on the phone screen; he looked so happy to be there.

“Okay, I’ll start,” you said, turning to look at your boyfriend. You took a moment to think of what to say first. “I can hear you when you’re singing in the shower, and it sounds terrible,” you said, trying hard to hold back your laughter.

Pedro narrowed his eyes at you, a mix of mock indignation and amusement crossing his face. Deep down, he knew there was a bit of truth in your words. “We listen and we don’t judge,” you both repeated in sync, and now it was his turn.

Pedro took a deep breath and grinned. “When we first met, I thought you are a bit of brat,” he admitted.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You hadn’t expected him to be that blunt. But, as the trend dictated, you couldn’t judge. You managed to keep your expression neutral, despite your surprise.

Pedro chuckled, noticing your reaction. “I know, it sounds horrible, but that’s what I thought at first,” he said, his tone softer.

You ignored him with an eye roll, “We listen and we don’t judge.”

“Sometimes you get me so upset when you forget something,” you confessed, scanning his expression on the phone screen. “But I always remind myself you’re just an old man,” you chuckled, looking at him.

Pedro took this secret well and just shrugged. “That was obvious, I am an old man,” he said with a smile.

“We listen and we don’t judge,”

Pedro's eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned in closer to the camera. “Your Spanish is bad... like really bad,” he said with a smile, clearly enjoying the playful banter. It really sounded like he came just for the hate, but you smiled, ready to dish it back.

“Well, your French isn’t good either,” you retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“We listen and we don’t judge,”

“I hate when you fart and blame it on me,” you said, the words barely escaping your mouth before you both burst into laughter. Pedro's eyes widened in shock, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

“Jesus Christ Y/n, you can’t say shit like that to people,” Pedro exclaimed with laugh, trying to calm himself down. He had expected many things, but not this.

Your laughter was infectious, and Pedro couldn't help but join in, his body shaking with mirth. “Well, it's true!” you said, still giggling. “You do it all the time.”

Pedro wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. But we listen and we don’t judge, remember?”

You both repeated, “We listen and we don’t judge,” in unison, still grinning from ear to ear.

"When I was filming Gladiator, some lady asked me if you're my daughter," Pedro chuckled, referring to your age difference. The memory seemed to amuse him greatly, and the twinkle in his eyes made it clear he found the situation hilarious.

You gave him a knowing stare. "We listen and we don't judge," you said, the words almost automatic now.

"I love when you wear glasses, it turns me on so bad," you said with a smirk, your voice dropping a notch. It was a bold confession, one that you knew would get a rise out of him. You couldn't help but think about your PR manager, already dreading the phone call you'd probably get after posting this video.

Pedro's smirk matched yours, his eyes filled with a mix of confidence and affection. "Knew that," he said confidently, his gaze locking with yours. His playful tone, combined with the way he looked at you, sent a shiver down your spine.

Of course, you did have to cut out some parts because Pedro could be a dirty bastard and truly had no filter. His unfiltered remarks were hilarious but perhaps a bit too much for the fans and especially your PR managers.

🎃 kinktober - day four: caçador/presa com enzo vogrincic.

— aviso: dark romance, stalker!enzo, menção à sexo e masturbação, homicídio e violência, menção à autoextermínio. NÃO LEIA SE FOR SENSÍVEL. (+18).

— word count: 5,6k.

— notas: eu não sou estudante de psicologia, então provavelmente pode ter alguns conceitos errados ao longo do texto. é tudo ficção, manas e manos. às psicólogas do site: minhas desculpas caso haja um erro muito grotesco!! não é um smut. uma coisa meio Mavi de Mania de Você.

a cabeça latejava como se as têmporas estivessem sido apertadas pelas mãos de um gigante impiedoso. os olhos lutavam para continuarem abertos, embora a luz branca do consultório parecesse tirar sarro do seu esforço. o som da caneta deslizando pelo papel também não ajudava em nada. você estava considerando parar de anotar o que o paciente lhe dizia, mas seria falta de educação.

"Enzo, eu preciso que você me dê mais detalhes da sua infância. você fica repetindo que as coisas eram muito difíceis, mas você ainda não disse como as coisas eram difíceis." seu tom de voz sereno mascarava a dor profunda em que você se encontrava. "tudo bem por você?"

o homem bonito assentiu timidamente. era a terceira vez que você o via naquele mês e sentia que não obtivera muito sucesso nas consultas anteriores. ele respondia às perguntas e falava muito sobre coisas do dia à dia, mas costumava a ser um pouco vago sobre coisas pessoais. sempre que podia, contornava a pergunta com uma oratória impressionante.

Enzo era muito bonito. tinha cabelos longos, andava sempre com as peças de roupa impecáveis e estava sempre cheiroso. costumava usar colares e anéis e os sapatos estavam sempre limpos. tinha uma voz profunda e envolvente. um sorriso de causar suspiros e um olhar que parecia despir quem quer que fosse.

"eu fui abandonado pelos meus pais quando criança. como não tinha nenhum parente próximo, fui deixado em um orfanato." você anotou tal fato no prontuário do paciente, um pouco perplexa por ele ter escondido aquilo desde a primeira sessão. voltou a mirá-lo depois de feito, mas ele apenas se manteve em silêncio.

"e como era esse orfanato?"

"péssimo." a postura mudou. estava relaxado momentos antes e, de súbito, travara em uma posição de desconforto. os dedos batucavam no braço estofado da poltrona. "as freiras que cuidavam do orfanato não eram muito bondosas. irônico, não?"

"você acha que o abandono dos seus pais é responsável por algum mecanismo de defesa que, hoje, possa te atrapalhar na sua socialização?"

"como assim?" o uruguaio a olhou desconfiado. você conteve a vontade de sorrir. alguns pacientes demonstravam muito mais do que pensavam demonstrar.

"quando algumas pessoas são abandonadas, elas criam mecanismos de defesa para lidar com o abandono." você explicou, massageando a têmpora cuidadosamente. "por exemplo, algumas pessoas podem evitar a socialização e, consequentemente, evitar um possível abandono. outras, irão socializar, mas vão fazer absolutamente tudo que elas pensam que irá garantir a presença da outra pessoa em suas vidas. isso pode ser problemático, pois elas colocam as necessidades de outras pessoas à frente das suas."

"não acho que eu faça parte de nenhum dos casos. eu me socializo muito bem e sei respeitar meus limites."

"mas tem dificuldade para se abrir para outras pessoas." você pontuou enquanto rabiscava um desenho bobo no fim do bloco de notas. Enzo a olhou como se algo extremamente embaraçoso sobre ele houvesse sido revelado para milhões de pessoas. "está tudo bem, Enzo. isso não te faz uma pessoa melhor ou pior. estamos só pontuando algumas características sobre a sua personalidade."

um sorriso nervoso dançou nos lábios bonitos do paciente. ele voltou a relaxar, como se realizasse que não tinha como mentir para você. de uma maneira ou de outra, você descobriria todos os segredos dele.

"acho que você tem razão. eu já tive problemas relacionados à isso." ele confessou, um pouco receoso. "relacionamentos que não funcionaram porque eu me abria muito pouco. amizades, romances..."

"então você vê a necessidade de mudar essa sua característica?"

"seria bom poder confiar mais nas pessoas. acho que melhoraria muitos aspectos da minha capacidade de socializar." você sorriu. Enzo era um homem muito inteligente, afinal. você gostava dos pacientes que se mostravam aptos à mudança.

"isso é muito bom. é exatamente o tipo de pensamento que alguém deve ter ao procurar a terapia." você o encorajou, voltando a olhar para a ficha dele. "você me disse que as freiras do orfanato não eram muito solícitas. você lembra de algum episódio em específico que te faz pensar assim?"

[...]

seu corpo colapsou na cadeira do restaurante quando você finalmente achou a mesa ocupada pelo seu noivo. Esteban retirou os olhos do celular, te dando um sorriso caridoso como forma de apoio.

"você está linda hoje."

"você é um ótimo mentiroso." você sorriu, um pouco exausta até mesmo para contrair os músculos faciais. depois de duas aspirinas, a dor de cabeça tinha até melhorado. agora restavam as dores musculares que tomavam o corpo de assalto. "você já pediu?"

"sim. pedi aquele risoto que você gosta, além desse merlot." ele apontou para a garrafa em cima da mesa. inclinou-se gentilmente para servir tanto o seu copo quanto o dele antes de brindar com você. "eu sei que é dia de semana, mas você merece."

"de acordo." você não se opôs, dando um grande gole na bebida. o corpo contraiu em um espasmo de felicidade. "tudo certo para o seu voo amanhã?"

"uhum. vai ficar bem até lá?" a canhota encontrou a sua sobre a mesa, os olhinhos brilhando de preocupação. você sorriu.

"são só cinco dias, meu amor. acho que eu aguento." Esteban sorriu, deixando um selar no anel de noivado caro.

voaria para o Chile para performar algumas cirurgias cardiotorácicas em diversos hospitais do território. o intercâmbio de saúde tinha sido proposto pelo hospital em que Esteban trabalhava e ele, como o homem empático que era, não conseguiu negar. embarcava na sexta e voltaria somente na quarta.

você sentia um pouco de chateação, mas nada além do comum. estavam noivos há pouco tempo e desde o noivado, as coisas estavam mais românticas do que nunca. era comum transarem mais do que o normal, sair para jantar mais vezes no meio das semanas turbulentas e passarem horas planejando o futuro juntos. você sabia que iria sentir falta dele enquanto ele estivesse em Santiago, mas seria por uma boa causa.

o jantar havia sido agradável, como sempre. depois de algumas taças de vinho você estava relaxada o suficiente para aproveitar o resto da noite, esta que começou no elevador do prédio em que vocês moravam. você se lembrava dos lábios de Esteban correndo pelo seu pescoço e em poucos segundos você estava na cama sendo fodida impiedosamente.

você tinha as sextas livres, então aproveitou para fazer tudo que podia depois de levar o noivo no aeroporto. participou de uma aula de pilates, levou os cachorros para passear e decidiu ir até o supermercado mais próximo para repor a dispensa de casa.

estava carregando um saco pesado de ração quando os seus olhos encontraram os dele. era Enzo, o seu paciente do dia anterior. te olhava como se fosse proibido. alguns pacientes não se sentiam muito confortáveis em ver os seus terapeutas fora do consultório.

você sorriu timidamente antes de voltar a procurar pelo seu carrinho. Enzo, lutando contra o desconforto, se aproximou para ajudá-la.

"isso parece pesado." ele ofereceu os braços fortes e você colocou o saco de ração nas mãos dele, agradecendo pela gentileza.

"e muito." você voltou a procurar pelo carrinho, achando-o um pouco distante de onde você o deixara. alguém provavelmente o tinha empurrado. "você mora por aqui?"

"não... eu vim visitar um amigo que mora no bairro e pensei em comprar alguma bebida para não chegar de mãos vazias." ele colocou as mãos nos bolsos, voltando ao estado de desconforto anteriormente. "você está noiva?"

você olhou para as suas mãos, sentindo-se pega. geralmente, tirava a aliança quando atendia os pacientes. gostava de deixar claro o limite entre razão-emoção quando atendia. não queria que os pacientes ficassem envolvidos demais em detalhes sobre a sua vida pessoal.

"sim, fazem alguns meses." você brincou com a aliança. não tinha muito mais sobre o que falar. "obrigada pela ajuda, Enzo."

"não há de quê." ele sorriu, gentil. você se afastou dele lentamente depois de se despedir.

Vogrincic assistiu enquanto você se afastava. estava tão linda naquele conjunto de academia, com os cabelos presos em um rabo de cavalo desleixado. podia ver a sua nuca muito bem, o que lhe causava arrepios. cada pedaço seu era tão perfeito quanto o outro.

não pôde descrever o sentimento que o tomou quando viu a sua aliança. exibia uma pedra oval solitária, o ouro branco reluzindo contra as luzes fosforescentes do supermercado. ele sabia que você era noiva, claro que sabia. mas ainda doía vê-la exibir o anel com tanta felicidade.

era uma tarde de agosto quando Enzo te viu pela primeira vez sentada em um café com algumas de suas amigas. estava bebendo café e comendo um bolo cheio de cobertura de chocolate. ele se lembrava como seus lábios envolviam a colher tão satisfatoriamente. como seu anel de noivado brilhava na sua mão esquerda. como estava linda na blusa de gola alta.

não conseguiu evitar os instintos que há muito lutava contra. tinha que saber mais sobre você.

a seguiu pelo resto do dia. passeou pelo shopping enquanto via você e as amigas entrarem em lojas e mais lojas. assistiu uma das amigas tirar uma foto do prato quando decidiram almoçar em um restaurante caro demais e não tardou em abrir o Instagram, procurando pela localização do ambiente. nos stories que contavam com a localização, estava o prato da sua amiga. clicou no perfil, avançando entre posts e destaques até que achasse uma foto sua e, claro, seu perfil. você tinha o perfil privado e aquilo o fez gostar mais de você. não era burra como as outras.

quando se certificou de que você estava de volta a sua casa em segurança, pegou um táxi para o próprio apartamento. lá, a obsessão começou. passou horas procurando pelo seu nome. encontrou a clínica que você trabalhava, além dos diversos trabalhos de iniciação científica que você já tinha publicado. encontrou uma notícia em um site de fofoca de socialites que falava sobre o seu noivado. aparentemente, seu noivo vinha de uma linhagem de médicos famosos em Buenos Aires. marcou uma consulta com a sua secretária. não era nada barato, mas valeria cada centavo. poderia te conhecer melhor ou, até mesmo, fazer com que você se interessasse por ele. Enzo sabia que era bonito. não era difícil conquistar nenhuma mulher se ele quisesse bastante.

Vogrincic recordou-se da última vez em que tinha mergulhado em uma obsessão daquele jeito. tinha sido em Montevidéu. a garota era tão linda. uma colega de classe com quem ele tinha o prazer de dividir trabalhos e atividades. era sempre gentil, compartilhando suas anotações com ele e o incluindo nos grupos de seminários. estava sempre cheirosa, sempre bem arrumada. ele tinha se apaixonado tão perdidamente.

começara a segui-la para as festas, jogos universitários, bares e qualquer outro lugar que contasse com a presença dela. passara semanas e semanas enviando flores e poemas para o seu dormitório. às vezes, quando tinha medo de que alguém fosse machucá-la, ficava rondando o prédio de dormitórios femininos para que ficasse ligado em qualquer atividade suspeita. sentia-se como um herói misterioso.

até ela descobrir.

lembrava-se bem do olhar de descrença, do medo, de como ela não queria que ele se aproximasse. implorou para que ele parasse de persegui-la, mas ela não conseguia entender que era, basicamente, impossível. ele estava envolvido demais e não conseguiria parar. não agora.

então, seguiu com a loucura. não conseguia se conter. quando tentava ficar trancado em seu próprio dormitório, era como se uma crise de abstinência o atacasse. o coração batia forte dentro do peito, as mãos suavam e a cabeça doía sem parar. a garganta ficava seca e embora tomasse litros e litros de água, estava sempre com sede. não conseguia dormir sem pensar nela. não conseguia focar nas atividades da faculdade. não conseguia nem mesmo respirar.

a odisseia durou até que a garota fora encontrada no seu dormitório sem vida. tinha tomado diversas cartelas de opioides e escrito uma longa carta culpando Enzo pelo seu suicídio. ela não entendia que aquela era uma forma de carinho. um jeito de dizer que se importava, que queria cuidar dela quando mais ninguém queria.

foi obrigado a se mudar para Buenos Aires logo em seguida. se transferiu para uma nova faculdade para que pudesse terminar o curso e nunca mais teve coragem de pisar em Montevidéu. ainda se lembrava de como as pessoas reagiram quando o encontraram pelos corredores da faculdade.

“monstro”.

monstro? monstruosidade era abandonar as pessoas. deixá-las para trás com nada além de inseguranças e medos. o que ele fazia era amor. cuidado. estava ali para mostrar à ela que sempre estaria ao seu lado, que sempre cuidaria de tudo. que nunca a abandonaria.

durante o seu tempo em Buenos Aires não encontrou ninguém que despertasse aquele interesse. é claro, vez ou outra se apaixonava rapidamente por uma qualquer e era obrigado à descobrir tudo sobre a vida dela. mas, nenhuma o deixava preso o suficiente para que pudesse amar novamente. as mulheres eram tão fúteis e superficiais na capital.

até que ele encontrou você. você era tão bonita, mas, ao mesmo tempo, tão centrada. você era tão inteligente e empática. tão humilde e tão trabalhadora. leal, viajada, sorridente. você tinha uma vida da qual ele queria fazer parte. você voltou a representar o ideal de felicidade na cabeça dele.

e agora ele não podia mais viver sem você.

as primeiras sessões não tinham dado em lugar algum. você era uma profissional muito boa e ele tinha que lutar para não fugir do personagem. conseguia compreender que se dissesse certas coisas, acabaria lhe assustando como tinha assustado as outras pessoas. mesmo que uma vez ou outra ele pensasse que você o aceitaria por ser uma psicóloga, sempre se acovardava no final.

no entanto, estava se tornando impossível ficar longe de você. se deu conta disso quando a viu cruzar as ilhas do supermercado de um lado para o outro exibindo o colo naquele lindo dia de primavera. era fisicamente impossível não te querer.

sabia que o seu noivo estava fora da cidade. lia cada notícia sobre ele, além de acompanhar a rede sociais dos amigos do casal. ele estava no Chile assim como outros médicos do hospital em que ele trabalhava. e você estava ali, abandonada.

isso o encheu de uma raiva crescente. se você fosse noiva dele, jamais te abandonaria. cuidaria de você dia após dia. você sempre voltaria para um lar cheio de amor e cuidado.

Enzo se deliciava com a imaginação de ser o seu noivo. o seu hobby favorito depois do trabalho era pensar em você. apagava as luzes do quarto, acendia velas, escolhia o vinil favorito dos maiores hits de Ray Charles para tocar e mergulhava nos pensamentos que envolviam você. como cozinharia para você todas as manhãs e noites, como te daria massagens diárias quando você chegasse em casa cansada demais, como te foderia com paixão...

os sonhos sujos eram os mais vívidos. conseguia esculpir o seu corpo na argila que era a própria mente quase que perfeitamente. sabia de cor como eram as suas curvas, o formato e tamanho dos seus seios, como suas mãos eram lindas e ficariam mais lindas o envolvendo. sentia-se mal por pensar em você daquele jeito. mas, era inevitável. enquanto não pudesse te ter completamente, só restaria a imaginação. e aqueles momentos a sós com a própria criatividade passaram a ser seus movimentos favoritos.

acordava ereto mais vezes do que o normal. sempre se aliviava debaixo da água gelada do chuveiro, como uma forma de punição por tal ato tão promíscuo. raramente, quando bebia mais do que devia, o fazia na cama, pensando em você.

decidiu que aquele fim de semana seria o melhor momento para tentar uma aproximação. seu noivo estaria fora da cidade e ele sabia que você não resistiria ao charme. podia ser um bom ator quando queria. havia aperfeiçoado a arte ao longo dos anos em que passara em Buenos Aires se relacionando com uma garota ou outra.

precisava escolher cuidadosamente. assumiu que você provavelmente veria as amigas em algum bar ou qualquer lugar onde ele pudesse se aproximar respeitosamente. se apresentaria para suas companhias, que ficariam embasbacadas por sua beleza, seria simpático até que elas o convidassem para sentar. seria encantador. ela veria como você melhor que Estebán.

era esse o plano. estava comprometido a segui-lo e tinha até mesmo se liberado das tarefas do fim de semana para que pudesse te seguir para qualquer lugar que fosse. se você não tivesse estragado tudo.

era sábado, um pouco mais de uma da tarde, quando você deixou a sua casa. estava linda como sempre. de camisa social larga, shorts jeans e um tênis confortável. exibia a aliança ostensivamente com um par de brincos que combinavam. as mãos de Enzo agarraram o volante do carro com certo desconforto. a primeira coisa que faria quando estivesse com você, seria destruir aquele pedaço de aliança insignificante.

a seguiu pela rua, parando o carro em frente à um café metros da sua casa. um homem de cabelos curtos e sobrancelhas grossas esperava na porta por você. sorriu ao vê-la, a beijou no rosto carinhosamente e abriu a porta para que você entrasse. foi quando o sangue do uruguaio começou a ferver.

você estava tão confortável com aquele outro homem. quem era ele? você estava traindo o seu noivo e Enzo não havia descoberto? como você era tão estúpida de encontrá-lo em um café tão próximo da sua casa? e se alguém os visse ali? Vogrincic te amaldiçoou por minutos seguidos de minutos, se arrependendo por um dia ter te achado inteligente. você era desleixada, imperfeita, falha. e ele odiava ainda mais a si mesmo por ainda continuar te amando tão incondicionalmente.

deu partida no SUV para que evitasse mirar aquela cena constrangedora. não seria testemunha dos seus casos ilícitos.

a tarde com Fernando tinha sido agradável, como sempre. quando você e Estebán anunciaram a data do casamento na última semana para amigos mais próximos, Contigiani não tardou em entrar em contato. gostaria de organizar uma despedida de solteiro - com a permissão da noiva, é claro - e comprar um presente especial para Estebán. eram amigos desde crianças e você estava extasiada em fazer parte da surpresa. Fernando e alguns outros amigos tinham escolhido presentear Kuku com uma viagem para sua adega favorita da Itália e vocês tinham passado toda a tarde ajeitando os últimos detalhes da viagem.

depois que alguns outros amigos se juntaram a vocês, a reunião virou um encontro despretensioso que tinha resultado em diversos drinques no bar mais próximo. eram sete horas da noite quando você finalmente se despediu dos amigos com a desculpa de que tinha que alimentar os cachorros.

quase como um mecanismo programado, pegou o celular na bolsa enquanto andava para casa. os passos eram lentos e a necessidade de ouvir o seu noivo a consumia durante todo o dia. discou o número rapidamente, como se o pudesse fazer de olhos fechados.

"doutor Kukuriczka?" você fez a melhor voz manhosa que podia quando atendeu. "estou morrendo de saudades. o que você recomenda?"

"doses homeopáticas do seu noivo." ele brincou do outro lado da linha. você sorriu, sentindo a saudade correr pelas veias. "eu estarei aí em alguns dias, não se preocupe. como foi seu dia?"

encheu os ouvidos do noivo de fofocas e mais fofocas sobre seus amigos enquanto andava pela vizinhança, cumprimentando alguns vizinhos. assim que entrou no prédio, deu falta do porteiro, mas seguiu até o elevador sem maiores preocupações. apertou o botão do seu andar.

"endocartite bacteriana em uma criança? meu Deus, amor. seu dia deve ter sido difícil." você fez um biquinho. sabia como aqueles casos o afetavam, queria abraçá-lo e prometer que tudo ficaria bem.

"o prognóstico é favorável. não se preocupe comigo, ok?" ele riu baixinho do outro lado da linha. "preocupe-se com você. eu sei que, quando não estou em casa, você quase não come direito."

"eu almocei hoje, ok? e teve salada e tudo mais." você brincou, descendo no seu andar assim que o elevador abriu. procurou a chave na bolsa, destrancando a porta com facilidade. era como se já estivesse aberta.

"sei. faça o favor e peça um jantar, também. por via das dúvidas." você gargalhou, adentrando o apartamento. procurou pelos cachorros salsichas que, geralmente, vinham à todo vapor quando você abria a porta, mas não os encontrou. "eu preciso visitar um paciente agora, ainda estou de plantão. prometo te ligar quando estiver livre."

"tudo bem, Kuku." você largou a chave na bacia de mármore onde guardava outras bobagens, correndo os olhos pela sala de estar e a sala de jantar. um cheiro diferente enchia as narinas. "eu te amo."

"também te amo, mi prometida."

quando desligou o telefone, foi como se percebesse o silêncio em que o apartamento estava mergulhado. procurou os cachorros por toda parte, os achando trancados no banheiro, batendo as patinhas na porta desesperadamente. nunca havia acontecido deles se prenderem ao mesmo tempo, o que quase lhe causou um ataque do coração (com toda a ironia que aquilo envolvia). depois que os serviu, foi para o banheiro da suíte para tomar um banho.

ligou o registro, se despindo cuidadosamente enquanto a banheira ia se enchendo com o líquido tépido. pingou alguns óleos essenciais de amêndoas que tanto gostava, aproveitando dos vapores odoríferos que embaçavam o espelho e a envolviam sutilmente. quando mergulhou o corpo na banheira, poderia jurar que ficaria ali a noite inteira.

esfregou os braços, as pernas, as costas. lembrou-se das vezes em que dividira aquele espaço ínfimo com o noivo, sentada entre as pernas dele. Estebán era tão cuidadoso em lavar os seus cabelos e acarinhar a sua pele. quase o podia senti-lo ali. fechou os olhos, imaginando-o tocando o seu corpo com tanto clamor. jurando ao pé do seu ouvido que te amava.

o cheiro estranho que sentira na sala de estar voltou a correr, desta vez, no banheiro. era um cheiro herbal, de frescor. um cheiro que você jurava conhecer, mas não se recordava de onde. cheirou o próprio corpo, procurando por resquícios de perfume dos amigos, mas não era você.

quando saiu da banheira e se enrolou no roupão felpudo, escovou os dentes e seguiu para o closet. decidiu vestir uma das camisas de Estebán e uma calcinha confortável. ninguém a veria, então não tinha nada à esconder. perfumou o corpo com um hidratante corporal e pegou o celular para pedir o jantar. quando abandonava o closet para ir em direção à cama, o ouviu.

"quem era aquele cara com quem você se encontrou hoje?"

Enzo. seu paciente Enzo, sentado na poltrona que ficava ao lado da janela. a poltrona em que Estebán lia as notícias todas as manhãs, a poltrona em que você pintava as unhas por causa da boa iluminação. seu paciente Enzo estava na sua casa.

o calor com o que o seu corpo estivera envolvido desde o banho parecia ter esvanecido. seu coração pareceu parar antes de voltar a vida com arritmias. suas mãos tremeram e o celular caiu no chão acarpetado. o que ele estava fazendo ali?

"o que você 'tá fazendo aqui?" a voz saiu trêmula, frágil, desacreditada. a silhueta tremia de medo. as mãos queriam se cobrir e as pernas, queriam correr. mas, você não conseguia fazer nada. "como você entrou?"

"eu te fiz uma pergunta primeiro. é assim que nós conversamos, não é? através de perguntas." ele a encarou como se buscasse por sua afirmação. Enzo, que era, geralmente, muito tranquilo, estava uma bagunça. os olhos injetados corriam por todo o ambiente, em perplexidade por estar na sua casa. "quem era o cara?"

os olhos dele focaram um porta-retrato que estava na mesinha ao lado da poltrona. exibia uma foto sua e de Estebán quando ele tinha se formado na residência. Enzo o pegou com delicadeza, o virando para baixo.

você decidiu que a melhor alternativa era respondê-lo. até que pudesse correr até a porta de casa ou pegar o seu telefone, responderia tudo que ele perguntasse.

"u-um amigo." você abraçou o próprio corpo com temor. "pode responder a minha pergunta agora?"

"qual das duas?" Enzo voltou a mirá-la. agora, algumas lágrimas se formavam em bolsar na linha d'água dos seus olhos.

"o que você está fazendo aqui, Enzo?"

"eu... eu tinha um plano, sabe? nesse fim de semana eu iria te mostrar que eu sou um cara legal. eu ia te conhecer melhor, ia te mostrar quem eu sou de verdade. já tinha feito diversos planos para nós." algumas lágrimas escorreram pelas bochechas avermelhadas. "até que eu te vi com outro cara. eu consigo aceitar o seu noivo, infelizmente você não me conhecia antes de se comprometer com ele. mas, um amante? não dá, não dá..."

"Enzo... eu não tenho um amante. ele era só o meu amigo." seu corpo estava retesado, tenso. não conseguia se mover nem mesmo que forçasse as suas sinapses ao máximo. estava amedrontada. "mas, você entende que isso aqui passa de todos os limites, certo? eu sou a sua psicóloga."

"não... você é o amor da minha vida." Enzo se levantou da poltrona, fazendo você estremecer. "eu sei que você é. eu já tive alguém assim na minha vida, eu me lembro da sensação. lembro de como era estar apaixonado. eu só preciso que você me conheça melhor para que você veja que eu também posso ser o amor da sua vida..."

"Enzo, eu estou noiva." você o olhou nos olhos. era como um acidente: medonho, mas que você não conseguia parar de olhar. "eu já tenho alguém que eu amo. e você com certeza vai encontrar outra pessoa... se você deixar eu me trocar nós podemos ir até o consultório e conversar lá."

"não, eu não quero ir pro consultório. eu não tenho nada para falar na terapia. você nunca reparou? eu só ia lá para te ver." ele sorriu, como se explicasse o óbvio. seu sangue tinha se tornado gelo líquido, correndo pelas suas veias. "é por isso que eu falava tão pouco... eu não tenho nenhum problema, só interesse em ver você."

Enzo se aproximou ainda mais. você não conseguia recuar. estava com medo de que, se fizesse algum movimento brusco, ele faria algo terrível com você. ele envolveu o seu rosto entre as suas mãos de maneira terna.

"eu vi o seu apartamento hoje e fiquei pensando em como seríamos felizes aqui." ele sorriu, ainda choroso. "aquilo que eu te falei sobre o abandono, isso era real. e eu estou aqui para te mostrar que eu não vou te abandonar igual o seu noivo fez. eu vou estar aqui para você, sempre."

"Enzo, você está me assustando." uma lágrima solitária escorreu pela sua bochecha.

"mas... eu te amo. eu te vi com aquele outro cara e vim pra cá imediatamente porque eu queria resolver as coisas com você. não queria te perder para outro, de novo..." ele limpou a sua lágrima com o polegar. "eu estou aqui desde uma e meia. te assisti chegar, te assisti tomar banho e tudo que eu conseguia pensar era em como eu te amo."

não sabia mais o que fazer. ele estava tão próximo. conseguia sentir o cheiro herbal invadindo suas narinas. era ele aquele tempo todo. te observando, seguindo seus passos.

"por que eu não pego um copo de água para você e a gente conversa com mais calma?" você colocou as mãos sobre as deles, as segurando antes de guiá-lo de volta até a sua poltrona. Enzo assentiu, embora parecesse relutante.

foi necessária uma força tremenda para que você controlasse os seus passos e não saísse correndo de imediato. ao chegar no corredor, pisou nas pontas do pé até a porta da entrada, procurando pela chave na bacia de mármore na mesinha ao lado. é claro que Enzo havia a escondido. você pensou se seria uma sentença de morte gritar na varanda de casa para quem quer que estivesse passando. com certeza, seria.

seguiu até a cozinha, pegando dois copos e os enchendo de água. não encheu até a borda porque, na tremedeira em que se encontrava, acabaria derramando o líquido por toda a casa. enquanto voltava para o quarto, decidiu que teria que pegar o seu celular.

Enzo estava sentado, com as mãos entre as coxas. você entregou um dos copos à ele e sentou-se na beira da cama. vislumbrou o local onde havia deixado o celular cair, mas ele também havia sido confiscado. sentiu uma súbita vontade de chorar.

"Enzo, eu entendi que você tem sentimentos por mim. e eu estou fazendo o melhor que posso para compreendê-los." você começou, dando um grande gole na água. "mas não consigo entender porque você está me fazendo de refém."

"eu já disse. eu perdi a pessoa com quem eu era apaixonado antes... não quero que o mesmo aconteça com você."

"você não vai me perder." você encarou os olhos do uruguaio. buscou pelo seu celular na mesinha ao lado da poltrona, mas não o encontrou. "mas, você compreende que não é normal aparecer na minha casa sem permissão, não é? isso me assustou."

"eu sei. mas tempos desesperados requerem medidas desesperadas."

"Enzo..." você se levantou, não acreditando no que iria fazer. talvez estivesse jogando toda a dignidade no lixo, mas era melhor do que ser morta por um filho da puta maluco. andou em direção à ele, colocando o copo d'água na mesinha antes de se sentar em um dos joelhos do homem. "eu só acho que há situações melhores para que eu te conheça bem... nós devíamos marcar um café amanhã, o que você acha?"

"e se eu te perder nesse meio tempo?" Vogrincic respirava fundo. não tinha te tocado, o que você agradeceu mentalmente. estava nervoso, um pouco embaraçado pela situação. não pensava em tirar proveito de você.

"não vai." você negou com a cabeça, o tranquilizando. deu o seu melhor sorriso diplomata para acalmá-lo. "eu só quero dormir depois de um dia longo. e te conhecer melhor amanhã. eu não quero que você sinta que precisa invadir a minha casa para falar comigo... entendeu?"

Enzo assentiu. os olhos amendoados se tornavam menos maníacos, mais compreensivos. o olhavam com tanta admiração que parecia ser palpável. poderia jurar que, se pedisse à ele pelo seu coração, ele arrancaria do peito naquele momento. também jurou que ele não a machucaria.

segurando o rosto dele com ternura, você depositou um beijo casto nos lábios dele. apesar de não sentir nada além de medo embebido em adrenalina, pôde sentir os lábios macios de Enzo contra os seus. eram quentes, incertos, um pouco tímidos. ele segurou o seu corpo com ternura antes de corresponder.

"isso te faz crente de que você não vai me perder?" você se sentia uma péssima profissional. estava usando justamente da mente para que pudesse sair daquela situação. sentia-se como se estivesse o traindo.

ele assentiu com ternura, grato pela reafirmação. era a primeira vez que Enzo se sentia correspondido e o seu coração se enchia de amor. sabia que, amanhã, faria você se apaixonar por ele. você o tinha visto hoje da maneira que ele sempre quisera ser visto. tinha te compreendido como ninguém.

"por que você não vai lavar o seu rosto antes de ir? você está um pouco nervoso, não é?" você limpou as gotículas de suor que brotavam da testa dele. Enzo riu timidamente, assentindo.

você se ergueu do colo dele, indicando o banheiro com as mãos. o seu plano era interfonar para o porteiro ou qualquer outro apartamento para pedir ajuda, mas o que você ganhou foi muito melhor.

o uruguaio puxou o celular do bolso traseiro da calça e entregou para você. com um sorriso carinhoso, você aceitou o aparelho enquanto ele se direcionava até o banheiro.

com os dedos trêmulos, o desbloqueou e enviou mensagens de socorro para Estebán, além do grupo do condomínio. lá, alguns moradores já noticiavam que o sumiço do porteiro fora suficiente para chamar a polícia. você suspirou em alívio. pediu por socorro no grupo e descreveu Enzo o melhor que pode com o pouco tempo que tinha. quando ouviu a água da torneira parar de correr, desligou o telefone e o colocou sobre a mesa.

Enzo voltou, parecendo melhor. tinha retomado a compostura e os cabelos estavam elegantemente penteados para trás. você sorriu para ele.

"está melhor assim." com cuidado, Enzo retirou a chave da sua casa do bolso da frente. "não faça mais isso, ok? sempre que quiser conversar, você pode me ligar."

"eu não tenho seu número pessoal."

"ah..." você pegou um papelzinho na mesinha ao lado da poltrona, além de uma caneta largada por ali. rabiscou alguns números aleatórios no papel e o entregou, com um sorriso. "agora você tem."

"desculpa por ter te assustado." ele confessou. "não era a minha intenção. mas, eu sei que você compreendeu. você sabe que eu queria somente o seu bem.

"eu sei..."

Enzo te entregou a chave. você o guiou pelo corredor e os seus cachorros latiram ao vê-lo. era uma presença desconhecida, e eles não gostavam disso.

"desculpa por ter trancado os seus cachorrinhos... eu fiquei com medo deles me morderem." o uruguaio sorriu envergonhado.

você teve dificuldades para enfiar a chave na fechadura, mas quando o fez, girou com força para que pudesse se libertar da prisão que virara a própria casa. deu de cara com policiais no corredor, que a miraram em surpresa e a puxaram para fora de imediato.

Enzo foi detido, ali mesmo, no chão da sala de estar. suas mãos foram algemadas e os seus direitos foram lidos. enquanto era culpado pelo assassinato do porteiro, ele pedia desculpas em um tom choroso. "eu não bati forte o suficiente para matar, só para desmaiá-lo..."

seu corpo tremia e os olhos se tornaram torneiras descontroladas que derramavam litros e litros de lágrimas enquanto Enzo se debatia violentamente para se soltar. os olhos dele encontraram os seus e você sentia a decepção correr pela feição dele.

estava tão perto do amor e aquilo fora tirado dele mais uma vez.

um policial se manteve na sua frente como medida de proteção quando o seu paciente foi levantado grosseiramente. os olhos estavam repletos de lágrimas, como os seus. ele ainda não parecia compreender que você tinha guiado os passos da polícia para o seu apartamento.

"está tudo bem, mi amor. eu vou voltar." ele assegurou com um sorriso triste. o policial o forçava para as escadarias do prédio, mas ele apresentava uma força descomunal enquanto resistia. seus olhos eram escuros, quebrados, cheios de uma força vil. "eu vou lutar pelo nosso amor."