SLOW BURN

Guys! Clark has started to invade too!!! Anyway, today I was thinking about Smallville Clark Kent (personal go to when thinking about the character) with a new neighbor from the city...

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Clark Kent: Who sees you by the fence, petting his family's horses, and doesn't recognize you, which is odd because he recognizes everyone in such a small town.

Clark Kent: Who quickly realizes from the way you dress to the lack of an accent that you're not just new in town, but from some larger city that probably has apartment buildings with more tenants than the entire town has people.

Clark Kent: Who brushes off your apology for petting the horses, which you'd only done because you've never seen any in real life and couldn't resist how sweet they looked.

Clark Kent: Who watches you insist on going home to unpack instead of keep talking, but runs into you at school the next day and offers to show you around.

Clark Kent: Who you offer a ride home in your car as a thank you for being an extremely patient tour guide.

Clark Kent: Who accepts, under the condition that you let him show you the town too and when you tell him you pretty much have with how small it is, shakes his head and tells you there's a lot of places people don't know about aside from him or a few other kids.

Clark Kent: Who not only shows you his favorite places the next time you're both free, but also says he would be glad to teach you to ride, if you ever wanted.

Clark Kent: Who is thrilled when you take him up on it and spends several hours on a trail with you at a calm pace, keeping close in case anything suddenly spooked your horse. Although they were incredibly good horses so there weren't any problems.

Clark Kent: Who was fascinated by watching you slowly get more accustomed to the town—wearing clothes that were from a local boutique instead of a designer brand, engaging in the rather silly but beloved town traditions, even cutting off some of the friends from the city who you realized weren't really your friends at all after they once visited and immediately started making fun of Clark and his friends.

Clark Kent: Who was surprised at first, when you showed up at his family's door one day asking to help with the animals, but quickly got used to you coming over to help him feed or bathe them, which you claimed was your way of thanking him for the riding lessons but he suspected you just wanted an excuse to be with the animals.

Clark Kent: Who knew you'd fit in with his friends after they got over their own prejudice of you being rude or pretentious because you're from the city and likes hanging out with you with them but likes it just as much, maybe more, when everyone leaves and you're able to stay a bit longer in the barn.

Clark Kent: Who leans out the window next to you, enjoying the breeze as the sun sets and tells you he's glad you moved to Smallville.

Clark Kent: Who sees you shudder from the cold and instantly wraps his jacket around you, conveniently ignoring your blushing cheeks in case he was misreading the situation.

Clark Kent: Who still carefully tucks a piece of hair out of your face—while the voice in head screams not to ruin things—just to see it better and wets his lip while staring at yours.

Clark Kent: Who leans in slowly, waiting for the moment you'd slap him and walk out for daring to try something with you, but only sees you leaning in too.

Clark Kent: Who kisses you for the first time while you're in the barn, wearing his jacket, but promises himself then and there that it wouldn't be the last.

Reencontros.

Oi, essa é a primeira vez que eu escrevo na vida, então perdoe-me se estiver muito ruim.

***Este imagine aborda temas de relacionamentos complexos, conteúdo sexual, separação e superação emocional que podem ser sensíveis para alguns leitores.

Amar Enzo sempre foi fácil. Ele era um homem maduro, e você tinha a sensação de que ele teria todas as respostas para qualquer dúvida que você pudesse ter. Era carinhoso, mas não do tipo meloso – ele sabia respeitar os seus limites.

Sua vida se moldou ao redor dele desde o momento em que o conheceu, e foi assim durante os cinco anos que passaram juntos. Mas, no fim, foram as visões diferentes sobre o futuro que os separaram.

Você sabia que, ao ir àquela festa de aniversário de um amigo em comum, havia uma chance de encontrá-lo. Era uma sensação agridoce; o fim do relacionamento não foi conturbado, mas, desde então, vocês não tiveram mais contato. Às vezes, você ouvia algo sobre ele através de fofocas de amigos, mas, mesmo assim, estava nervosa. Não sabia como reagiria ao vê-lo.

Você apagou a luz do corredor enquanto tentava se equilibrar entre a bagunça de seu pequeno apartamento. Sua casa estava cheia de pilhas de caixas para doação e das coisas que ainda precisava colocar na mala para sua viagem. Daqui a quatro dias, você partiria para os EUA; sua empresa lhe ofereceu uma oportunidade de trabalho lá, em um contrato de um ano.

Desde o término, você se desapegou de Montevidéu – a cidade parecia assombrada pelas memórias de Enzo em todos os lugares. Então, aceitar a proposta foi uma decisão mais do que óbvia.

Vestiu um vestido longo e um agasalho, não era uma festa muito grande, estava mais para uma reuniãozinha então não se preocupou em se arrumar muito. Era um dia frio, chovia um pouco e o clima não estava muito propício para festejar, mas prometeu ao seu amigo aniversariante que ficaria pelo menos até as 22:00.

Chegando no lugar, logo subiu de elevador e bateu na porta marrom escura onde seu amigo morava, você o comprimentou enquanto ele a puxava para dentro do apartamento, e então, lá estava Enzo, ele conversava com outras pessoas enquanto gesticulava com as mãos, algo que você costumava rir dele. Seu cabelo estava mais curto e ele parecia mais bronzeado, tinha a mesma aura de sempre.

Decidiu se entregar um pouco à noite. Conversou por um bom tempo com algumas pessoas, tomou alguns drinks e, em algumas ocasiões, percebeu Enzo a observando. No entanto, você não se sentia preparada para iniciar uma conversa com ele.

Depois de um tempo na festa, foi para o lugar que pensou ser o mais reservado, apoiando os cotovelos na ilha da cozinha, tentou recarregar sua bateria social. Foi então que sentiu uma mão em seu ombro.

— Você está bem? — perguntou uma voz familiar.

Você a reconheceu imediatamente.

— S... Sim — respondeu, incrédula, enquanto o perfume familiar tomava conta do ambiente.

— Não sabia se devia vir falar com você, mas decidi arriscar — disse Enzo, sentando-se no banquinho ao seu lado. — Você parece ótima.

Você endireitou a postura, ajeitando o cabelo atrás da orelha.

— Você também parece bem — respondeu, evitando olhar diretamente nos olhos dele.

Enzo a olhou por alguns segundos, sorrindo, e o silêncio começou a ficar constrangedor até que ele finalmente falou:

— Não quero parecer sentimental, mas nós...

— Enzo, não me leve a mal, mas não quero falar sobre nós — você o interrompeu. — Estamos em uma festa. Fale sobre sua vida, pergunte sobre o meu trabalho, qualquer coisa, mas, por favor, não sobre nós.

Você sabia que ele entenderia. Era muito mais difícil para você do que ele podia imaginar.

— Tudo bem, então... como anda o seu trabalho?

Você sabia que não conseguiria continuar aquela conversa. Não era justo ele perguntar isso; ele deveria saber de tudo – sobre sua mudança, sua falta de vontade de sair de casa, tudo o que aconteceu nos últimos meses. Uma vontade súbita de chorar tomou conta de você.

— Desculpa, eu... não consigo — murmurou, fechando os olhos, tentando disfarçar as lágrimas que ameaçavam cair.

— Tudo bem, desculpe, pensei que estivesse tudo bem.

— Preciso tomar um ar.

Você se levantou e caminhou até a varanda, se culpando por ainda não ter superado tudo isso. O tempo passou, o parabéns foi cantado e, aos poucos, as pessoas começaram a ir embora. Você ficou mais calada, algo que seus amigos notaram, mas conseguiu dar alguma desculpa sobre o motivo. Em um momento, Enzo mencionou algo sobre sair para fumar e saiu pela porta.

— Já são quase 1h da manhã. Eu prometi ficar só até as 22h... preciso ir embora — você disse ao grupo com quem conversava.

— Não vai conseguir pegar um táxi a essa hora, e um Uber deve estar bem caro. Está frio e tarde, fica aqui e dorme no sofá — disse seu amigo aniversariante, colocando o braço em volta dos seus ombros.

Você realmente não queria ficar; queria a sua casa. Fiel ao apelido de teimosa, decidiu ir embora mesmo assim. Despediu-se, pegou o elevador e, ao chegar na entrada do prédio, fechou o casaco ao sentir uma brisa fria atravessar seu corpo. Ficou esperando algum sinal de um táxi.

— Você não vai chegar em casa hoje se continuar esperando um carro.

Você se virou e viu o homem com quem conversara na cozinha mais cedo.

— Só quero a minha casa — você respondeu.

— Eu posso te dar uma carona. Prometo que não precisamos trocar nenhuma palavra. Só me deixe fazer isso — disse Enzo, jogando o cigarro no chão e apagando-o com o pé.

Você hesitou, olhando para o chão enquanto colocava as mãos nos bolsos, sentindo outro vento congelante te atingir em cheio.

— Tudo bem — você disse.

Enzo ligou para os amigos que haviam ficado na festa, avisando que iria embora, enquanto caminhava ao seu lado em direção ao estacionamento. Ele abriu a porta da frente do carro para você. O veículo, visivelmente novo, era a cara dele. Sentou-se no banco do motorista e ligou o carro.

— Me desculpe por mais cedo. Você me pegou de surpresa — você disse, olhando pela janela ao seu lado. — Você foi gentil comigo; não merecia isso.

— Tudo bem, eu te entendo.

Claro que ele te entendia.

— Vou me mudar, sair do país — você respondeu, observando a luz vermelha do semáforo enquanto o carro parava.

Enzo olhou para você com uma expressão surpresa.

— Pensei que gostasse de Montevidéu. Você sempre dizia que sim.

— Eu sei, mas aqui ficou diferente depois que passei a viver sozinha. A empresa me fez uma proposta para trabalhar na sede nos EUA; o salário é bom, e eu preciso dar um rumo à minha vida.

Rumo à vida. Esse era o motivo do início do fim. Enzo queria casar, ter filhos, enquanto você desejava trabalhar mais; eram diferenças gritantes que fizeram o relacionamento de vocês estagnar.

— Você é incrível — ele disse, enquanto o sinal abriu e continuou o caminho. — Eu passei um tempo na Espanha; quis desaparecer um pouco.

— Por isso o bronzeado? — você riu, olhando para ele.

— Sim! — ele gargalhou.

A rota continuou, e então Enzo parou em frente ao seu prédio. Você estava mais tranquila após a conversa descontraída.

— Olha, obrigado, Enzo. Você me salvou completamente.

— Acho que você ainda estaria lá esperando uma providência divina — ele riu, tirando as mãos do volante.

Você o olhou e, surpreendendo a si mesma, disse:

— Você quer entrar? — Não sabia de onde tinha tirado a coragem. — Você vai chegar muito tarde em casa a chuva está ficando mais forte, dirigir assim é um perigo; pode ficar e dormir no sofá.

Enzo titubeou. Sabia que era um perigo. Pensou por um instante.

— Certo, você tem razão — disse ele, procurando um espaço na calçada onde o carro pudesse passar a noite.

Vocês subiram até o seu apartamento e, ao chegar à porta, algo veio à sua mente: a bagunça. Você se virou para ele e disse:

— Desculpa a bagunça. Aqui está um caos... Estou tentando organizar tudo para a viagem. O apartamento vai ficar desocupado por um ano, então estou me desfazendo de algumas coisas.

Enzo riu, respondendo que não se importava com a sua “bela bagunça.”

Você abriu a porta, e as memórias guardadas com tanto carinho do local vieram à tona. Todos os carinhos, todas as refeições que haviam preparado juntos. Apesar do baque, você conseguiu se esquivar dos pensamentos que ameaçavam ressurgir.

— Quer beber algo? Ou está com fome? — Você correu até a cozinha americana do apartamento, abrindo o armário quase vazio, onde só encontrou macarrão instantâneo e pratos.

— Só tenho chá, água e macarrão instantâneo — disse, olhando para ele enquanto ainda segurava as portas do armário.

Enzo riu.

— Obrigado, mas comi tanto na festa que sinto que vou explodir.

— Quer usar o banheiro, então? — você perguntou, caminhando até a porta. — Ainda tenho algumas roupas suas por aqui, se quiser se trocar.

O constrangimento entre vocês era visível, quase engraçado. Conheciam-se tão bem, cada detalhe e particularidade, mas, mesmo assim, tudo parecia diferente agora.

— Tudo bem, S/N, fica tranquila. Só me empresta um short.

Você pegou a peça de roupa, e ele se trocou. Sentou-se ao seu lado no sofá, não muito perto, o que deixava tudo estranhamente incômodo.

Enquanto você preparava chá para os dois, Enzo passava pelos canais da TV, mas logo começaram a conversar, ignorando o que passava na tela. A conversa se estendeu por muito tempo, e vocês falaram sobre os últimos meses, sobre a viagem dele à Espanha. Ficou claro que Enzo não havia se interessado por ninguém desde você, assim como você desde ele. Era como se, no fundo, estivessem esperando um ao outro.

Aos poucos, vocês foram se aproximando no sofá, até que o joelho dele roçou o seu, e um calafrio percorreu sua espinha.

Então, Enzo te beijou. Era um beijo lento, carregado de sentimentos não ditos. Ali, entre os lábios de vocês, pareciam sair palavras silenciosas. Desculpas pelas dores passadas, agradecimentos pelos momentos compartilhados, e até mesmo despedidas escondidas.

Você sentiu os braços dele ao redor de seus ombros, e por um momento, todo o peso das lembranças se dissolveu. Mas, conforme o beijo terminava, a realidade voltava devagar, como um lembrete de que aquele instante, por mais intenso, talvez fosse um último ato de carinho entre duas pessoas que seguiram caminhos diferentes.

Ele encostou a testa na sua, suspirando, e você sentiu a mesma mistura de paz e tristeza.

— Talvez a gente precisasse disso, não é? — ele sussurrou, olhando nos seus olhos.

Você assentiu, ainda sem saber ao certo como se sentir. Então em uma súbita ação você volta a beijá-lo, cada vez mais se tornando algo frenético. Enzo levanta e a pega no colo te levando em direção ao quarto que antes testemunhara suas noites de amor.

Seus olhos não abrem até você sentir o colchão, Enzo em cima de você não perde tempo e tira a própria blusa enquanto você tira as duas alças do próprio vestido libertando seus seios.

— Você é linda — Diz o homem enquanto te apreciava.

Enzo puxa o resto do vestido pela sua perna a deixando apenas de calcinha e sem hesitação também se livrou dela. Logo você dá atenção ao resto da roupa do seu ex-namorado, Desabotoando o short e abaixando sua roupa íntima.

Ambos estavam completamente pelados e você sentia pressa em senti-lo. Enzo era o mesmo, você pensou, ele tinha o tamanho ideal, sabia a velocidade que você gostava e as suas manias durante o ato mas ainda sim, você se sentia como uma virgem, vulnerável e sensível.

Ele percebeu, e então desceu a boca até a sua intimidade, sem cortar o contato visual.

Enzo te destruiu, de uma maneira boa, ele sabia trabalhar a língua nas dobrinhas, ele sabia que você gostava quando ele passava a barba rala na sua intimidade, e naquele instante tudo que se podia ouvir era o som da chuva e os seus gemidos.

Ao perceber que você estava quase no ápice, o homem interrompeu oque estava fazendo e deitou ao seu lado com o rosto melado.

Agora era a sua vez, fazendo um caminho de beijos, você chegou ao lugar que almejava e não perdeu tempo, passou a linguinha algumas vezes e depois pos o membro inteiro na boca. Enzo falou algo indecifrável, resultado de seu delírio. Você fez o trabalho todo, brincou com as mãos e apertou a base do órgão.

Enzo sentiu que não aguentaria mais e te puxou para ele, enquanto você se posicionada virada de costas, ainda deitada na cama. Era a posição de vocês, de ladinho.

O homem posicionou a cabeça no seu ombro que estava em cima, e introduziu seu membro na sua intimidade, ele levantou sua perta e ficou a segurando, enquanto você agarrava o lençol.

Você se perdeu no vai e vem de corpos, Enzo gemia no seu ouvido e isso te deixava excitada mais que tudo. Depois de um tempo, você quis olhar para ele, então se soltou do homem e subiu em seu colo, com as mãos do lado da cabeça do maior. Não falavam muito durante o ato, aquele olhar trocado enquanto você cavalgava nele era suficiente. Você deu sua vida em cima dele e então o homem gozou. Percebeu que ele estava a muito tempo sem ter algo íntimo pela quantidade de líquido que jorrou dentro de ti.

Tentando se desculpar por não ter conseguido se segurar ele a posicionou, fazendo sua parte íntima encostar na coxa do homem, e então te movimentou, pra frente e pra trás, com a fricção na sua parte mais sensível não demorou pra você desabar nele.

Você e Enzo se deitaram um ao lado do outro na cama, e, depois de muito tempo sem nenhuma palavra, o homem disse:

— Isso vai ser difícil de esquecer. Acho que você se mostra cada vez mais como uma parte insuperável de mim.

Você achava o mesmo dele, e essa troca após tanto tempo foi um ponto decisivo para você. Enzo era o amor da sua vida, uma parte de quem você costumava ser, mas agora precisava ser alguém por si só. Era difícil tê-lo ali, ao mesmo tempo que ele trazia lembranças tão queridas.

— Eu te amo para sempre, Enzo — você disse, olhando para ele.

Você não se lembra muito do que aconteceu dali em diante, só sabe que acordou no dia seguinte com a cama ao seu lado vazia. Enzo havia partido um pouco depois que o sol bateu na janela. Ele não era um covarde, é claro; e foi melhor assim. Se ele tivesse ficado, seus olhos teriam pedido para que você ficasse em Montevidéu.

E aquela cidade não era mais a sua.

Ao se levantar da cama, você avistou um papel que Enzo deixara para você preso aos imãs na geladeira. Com a letra dele, a mensagem dizia:

"Foi difícil partir, mas eu sabia que era o melhor. Espero que você encontre seu caminho e a felicidade que merece. Saiba que eu estou aqui, mesmo de longe. Eu te amo. Enzo."

Você partiu, alguns dias depois. A cidade de Montevidéu, e seus fantasmas, já não fazia parte de quem você era agora e Embora as memórias de Enzo ainda estivessem com você, agora eram mais como lembranças queridas do que como correntes que a prendiam ao passado.

Ficou muito longo gente, mas eu amo histórias desse tipo, com drama e sofrimento e com o final não tão feliz. Pfv eu queria um feedback pq eu ainda estou iniciando. Obrigado por lerem. beijocas <3

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤBLOODY LEGSㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : Would They Ever Force Themselves On r*pe Their Darling?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ WARNING : Pretty much obvious. No smut. This discussion involves non-consensual acts, coercion, and obsessive behavior. If you’re sensitive to such content, I’d advise against reading further.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Would he? No.

Bruce is the last person who would ever force himself on you. Despite his obsession, his rigid sense of morality, guilt, and deep-seated trauma make it impossible for him to cross that line. Bruce operates on control—self-control above all else. No matter how much he craves you, he will never take you by force.

However, Bruce’s obsession manifests differently—through extreme control. You aren’t allowed to leave, to date, to breathe without his permission. He isolates you, makes you dependent on him, ensures you feel like he’s your only option. He’ll gaslight you, manipulate you into staying, but physically taking you against your will? That’s a line he will not cross. He’d rather break himself than break you.

But if you try to escape? The punishment will be brutal. Not sexually, but physically restrained, locked away, stripped of any autonomy. He’ll remind you that you are his, that he is the only one who can protect you, and he’ll do anything to keep you in his grasp.

“I will never hurt you like that, but you’re not leaving me. Ever.”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Would he? No. But... it’s complicated.

Dick is a walking paradox of affection and control. He loves you—adores you—but his love is overwhelming, suffocating, all-consuming. He needs you to love him back, to crave him as much as he craves you. He won’t rape you outright, but his obsession manifests in ways that blur the line between coercion and consent.

Dick wants you to want him. He’ll manipulate, guilt-trip, and play the victim to make you feel like you’re the bad guy for denying him. He showers you with affection, attention, and when you pull away, he punishes you emotionally—not through force, but through withdrawal. Cold stares, quiet disappointment, an unbearable sadness in his voice that makes you feel like you’re the one hurting him.

However, if you push him too far—if you reject him outright, try to leave, break his heart—he might snap. In a moment of desperation, he’ll hold you down, kiss you too hard, grip your wrists with bruising force—never quite crossing the line, but so close it makes your skin crawl.

“Don’t do this to us, baby. You love me—I know you do.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Would he? No, not the way that you think.

Jason is a paradox. He hates rapists with every fiber of his being—he butchers them, makes them suffer in the worst ways imaginable. But here’s the twisted part: he doesn’t see himself as one.

Jason is violently possessive. If he feels like you’re slipping away, if you try to leave him, he won’t let you. He’ll tie you up, trap you, hold you against him, whispering in your ear that you belong to him.

Would he rape you? No. But would he force intimacy? Would he hold you down, keep you pinned beneath him, mark you with bruises, bite you, kiss you until you’re breathless, until you’re sobbing in his arms? Yes. Absolutely.

But the second he sees real, genuine fear in your eyes? He’ll break. He’ll hate himself. He’ll pull away, shaking with rage and disgust—not at you, but at himself. Because Jason may be a possessive, obsessive monster, but he will never be the thing he hates.

"I’d never hurt you like that. Never. You’re mine, but I won’t fucking take you like that. Don’t make me into something I can’t come back from, baby. Just… stay. Please."

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Would he? Yes. Without hesitation because he believes it's his right.

Damian is the coldest, most possessive, and least remorseful of them all. Damian doesn’t feel guilty—because in his mind, you already belong to him. There’s no moral dilemma, no hesitation. If you resist him, you’re wrong. If you say no, you don’t know what’s good for you.

Damian was raised by the League of Assassins, by Talia, by Bruce. He was never taught the concept of “no.” If he wants something, he takes it. If he wants you, he takes you. In his mind, it isn’t rape—it’s claiming what’s already his. You’re his wife, his queen, his possession.

Damian is calculated, methodical, deliberate. He’ll drug you if he has to, bind you in silk restraints, keep you locked away in luxury until you accept your fate. You will love him, because you have no other option.

“You misunderstand, beloved. You were mine from the moment I saw you. Struggling is beneath you.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

ʚïɞ "the sweet life" FC43

↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more with williams racing!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x maria amelia rodriguez (female!oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,9k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺ genre: fluff

summary: in witch franco and maria are finally living the good life and they know how to enjoy it.

warnings: just the sweetest couple ever, cursing, some pda/making out sessions, just sad i couldn't write all their dialogs in spanish but i kinda did get a bit carried away. characters celebrating minor things like we do. there's two languages written in this and none is my native language so take it easy, i tried my best. hope you like it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

⠀

Maria watched as her boyfriend exited the blue car, trying to stay calm and remove her big headphones with ease. Her purse was left somewhere in the box,  her focus was entirely on him. She looked around, trying to find any reason not to run to him.

But she couldn't resist. Just as he was about to take off his helmet, she sped up, a big smile spreading across her face as he opened his arms. It was like nothing else mattered.

"Vamos, bebéééé! P7!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Dios mío, I can't believe this is our life now!"

"It is, baby. Best believe." he laughed, lifting her off the ground and shaking her playfully.

"You're amazing! You're the greatest! Look at you!" Maria continued to praise him, back on the floor now and holding his face between her hands. "¡Te quiero muchísimo! ¡Muchísimo! I can't wait for the race tomorrow."

"Just imagine how I feel!" he said before pecking her lips, smudging it a little in their shared joke. They had so many of these.. "Te quiero mucho más, princesa. Thank you for being here."

They went way back. Back to middle school, when Franco would tear himself apart to keep everything together. Their love had only grown stronger with time. It survived the distance when he moved to Europe for his shot, until she turned sixteen and joined him two years later. All the homesickness and challenges they faced together only strengthened their bond.

Celebrating his win felt like celebrating her own, squeezing in between her college life. Everyone in the Williams box knew that having Franco meant having Maria; they were inseparable.

So it was no surprise when he carried her back inside the box, bouncing her around like she weighed nothing before dropping her on one of the couches.

"We're celebrating tonight, huh? Let me talk to the team, and we'll set it up." he said, giving her one last kiss before messing up her hair and turning away to celebrate with the team.

It had been too long since Williams dragged a car into P7, and if you asked Maria, she'd say only Franco could take it there. It was amazing to watch the team celebrate and fool around, before the excitement cooled down and they headed back to their accommodations. It was only a matter of time until the door was locked and Maria was in her boyfriend's arms, pressed between him and the wooden door.

"When you said celebrating..." her hands roamed over his torso, her words whispered against his lips with a little smirk.

"That's exactly what I meant," Franco smiled, his hands pinning her by the waist as he pulled her in for a real kiss.

Her hands slipped around his neck, fingers brushing against his skin and into his soft curls, while his hand moved gently to her cheek, sending shivers up her spine. The room was silent except for their shared breaths, the adrenaline from Q3 qualy  still pumping. In the privacy of that small space, the kiss grew more heated, like they could become one at any moment. It was a kiss that spoke of celebration and the quiet comfort of knowing they belonged to each other, no words needed.

When he started to explore her covered skin, their breaths becoming more labored, Maria chuckled at how strong she was about to be, stopping him from pulling her Williams shirt away.

A whine and a frown from her boyfriend; she almost gave in.

"Bebé... You're racing tomorrow, you need to rest," she said, holding his chin softly as he leaned into her touch, resting his head on her hand. "Don't give me those eyes! I'm taking care of you!"

"I can't believe you're doing this to me," he sighed. "I mean... I can lay back and let you do all the work! I swear to God, Maria."

"No, mi amor. No way. You qualified P7 today, I can't let that go to waste. You're laying back and sleeping, sir. Let's go shower," she said, patting his chest and waiting for him to turn around so she could follow him.

"A quickie, then?"

"Franco, no!"

"Ese, try this one. I swear it's delicious," Franco approached Maria with a plate full of small dishes he'd gathered for them to taste.

"What is this? Is this a shrimp? You know I hate shrimp!" she dodged the food he held close to her mouth, Franco insisting as he got closer.

"Mi amoooor... It's delicious! There's bacon, you'll like it!"

"The things you make me do, Jesus Cristo." she rolled her eyes, closing them so she wouldn't see the shrimp going into her mouth.

"Tell me. Delicious, huh?" Franco looked at her expectantly, celebrating with a silent "yes!" once she made a surprised face. "See!? I told you! Now try this one, this one you'll like. It's sweet, something with chocolate. Hold it."

"You guys are funny."

"Ai, Alex! Don't do that!"

Albon laughed as he came across the room to grab some water, watching the couple while they focused on chewing. They were at the Williams accommodation in the paddock, with food and beverages served before the race and that is something they always knew exactly how to act around. Free food is free dood, no matter if you’re a teenager trying life in another continent or a good surprise in Formula One.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you guys were so distracted." the Thai driver said, still laughing. "Lily was asking me about you, and I didn't know the answers... How long have you guys been together?"

"Eight years and four months," Franco answered, taking his teammate by surprise.

"Eight years? Eight? Aren't you like... Twenty? You've been dating for eight years? You guys are married!" Alex almost spilled his water.

"She's twenty, I'm twenty-one," Franco began to explain. "We were thirteen when we first kissed and never let each other go. Take notes."

"Wow, wow! That's why you guys are so close! That’s crazy! It must be amazing growing up together like that."

"It is," Maria smiled. "Through the best and the worst. My best buddy." It was easy for them to declare their love, just as it was for her arms to wrap around his waist.

"Uh- tooth-rotting sweet. I hate you guys," Alex pretended to be annoyed. "And marriage? Do you guys think about it?"

"My girlfriend in white? Of course I do," Franco said, hugging her tightly. "I'm securing my seat, and then we'll think about it. She's also graduating, so... We've got time."

The truth is, they could spend a lifetime talking about their relationship, and Alex seemed genuinely interested. They talked about their plans for a modest house back home, a big backyard, and children. They were still young, enjoying the present while dreaming about the future. Alex found it amazing how excited they were for the next steps, yet so calm and happy living day by day, enjoying the small things like expensive food, big hotel rooms, fans screaming Franco's name, and the thrill of being recognized in the mall. Just sweet and pure, that’s what they are.

“¡Cállate la boca, Dios mío!”

Maria giggled beneath the fluffy blankets, pretending to still be asleep. Birthdays had always been a special kind of game between them, an unspoken contest to outdo each other with surprises. Was it a real competition? No. But it was theirs, a tradition that filled their lives with joy and spontaneity.

On Franco’s last birthday, she had convinced him she wouldn’t be able to make it. He was still racing in Formula Two then, fresh off the Monaco GP, only to have her show up at the motorhome with a cake in hand and a parade of drivers ready to celebrate his 21st.

Today, it was her turn. Half-awake, she assumed he might have rallied a few familiar faces; after all, back-to-back races left little time for elaborate plans. But the sleepy haze couldn’t explain why she heard voices speaking rapid Spanish in the next room.

“Bebé, I’m coming in. Hope you’re dressed.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as the door creaked open. Before she could process it, Franco walked in holding a cake, flanked by her mother and little brother, both bursting into song.

“¡Cumpleaños feliz, cumpleaños feliz, te deseamos todos, cumpleaños feliz!”

Her eyes welled with tears at the sight, lips trembling with emotion. “Alright, now you caught me off guard,” she laughed, voice thick. “Hola, mamá. ¡Vos extrañé tanto!” She hurried out of bed, pulling them into a hug so tight it almost toppled them over.

“Hey! ¿No me extrañabas, Pinón?” her brother joked, tugging her hair until she leaned down to wrap him in a proper embrace.

“Feliz cumple, hermanita. Te quiero mucho, y más ahora que estoy volando para los GPs.”

“Te quiero muchísimo también, Pinónzito. Gracias, Fran. No sabía que vendrían.” She turned to Franco, who stood there with a smile that matched the warmth in his eyes. Leaning in, she kissed him lightly. “Te quiero taaanto, mi amor. Gracias, de verdad.”

“El mínimo para ti,” he whispered with a grin, stealing another quick kiss. “Now, let’s cut this cake. We’ve got a full day ahead, and I’m starving.”

“Jesús,” Franco said, a hint of disbelief in his voice as he stepped behind Maria, her beach bag slung over his shoulder. They boarded the yacht, its polished deck gleaming under the sun.

“Did we peak in life, or…” he teased, eyes sweeping over the stunning seascape.

“We peaked life.” she said with a playful glint, spinning around and looping her arms over his shoulders. “And you know what? I wouldn’t want any of this without you.”

He looked at her, eyes roving her features like a map he knew by heart, hands resting comfortably at her waist. It was the kind of touch that spoke of familiarity and time.

“I think we’re here because it’s us. I wouldn’t do any of this without you,” he replied, a declaration wrapped in simplicity, the weight of his love implied in every word. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, mi amor. You’re going places, and I’m the one who gets to stand by your side.”

They were both right. They’d grown together, woven into each other’s achievements, dreams, and futures. She was on the cusp of finishing law school, and he was rising higher in motorsport. It was their shared success — a partnership that went beyond love.

“If I’m going places, you’re going with me. Wherever we go.” His eyes held a brightness that felt almost tangible. “Te quiero, Maria. I really do.”

“Te quiero mucho,” she replied, eyes crinkling with emotion as they leaned in.

The yacht rocked gently beneath them as the sea stretched out infinitely. The sun, now lower on the horizon, turned the sky into a masterpiece of warm oranges and soft pinks. His dark hair caught the sea breeze, and her curls shimmered as they met, caught between the golden glow of day’s end and the promise of tomorrow.

They kissed, a connection steeped in years of love, laughter, whispered dreams, and shared victories. It spoke volumes of what they were — two parts of a whole, with an unbreakable bond.

In that perfect moment, surrounded by the sea’s vastness and the sky’s splendor, they had everything. The taste of salt on their lips, the warmth of each other’s touch, and the absolute certainty that home was here, in their embrace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (:

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:.

Drooling over Dilf Dick Grayson who has gotten a bit chubbier after retiring!!!

Dilf! Dick Grayson: Who gives up being a vigilante so you have peace of mind and he never risks leaving you and your baby alone.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who gains weight rather quickly after retiring once he starts remembering to eat full meals instead of protein bars and only works out once or twice a week instead every single day.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who is so exhausted from taking care of a newborn baby and making sure you're fully recovered that he forgets to shave or cut his hair, leaving him with a bit of stubble and longer locks than usual.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who you catch staring at himself in the mirror when he gets out of the shower, his eyes roaming the slightest softness that he now has in place of the hardened abdomen he had when you met.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who feels guilty for being self conscious when you had just given birth a few weeks ago and now had more red marks, extra skin, and thicker thighs, hips, and breasts.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who tries to make sure you know how much he loves the changes to your body, but ends up being the one praised.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Whose longer hair you gently play with as he lays on you, assuring him it's not ridiculous for him to be unsure of his body. "All those changes are because you stopped being a vigilante. And you did that for me. For us." You tell him, giving him a new perspective when you rephrase it in a way that makes his heart ache. "It's proof you love us."

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who you kiss just as passionately no matter how his body changes after retirement because it was his charming, tenacious, compassionate soul you fell in love with.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who you pamper, squeezing the extra flesh on his stomach, loving how soft and comfortable it makes him feel. "You're an even better pillow now," you tell him, resting your head on his stomach or thighs which have gotten just a bit less lean.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who gets better about letting you see his body, wearing the shirts you like him in again or not wearing one at all when going to sleep so you can trace his scars or lay on him comfortably which he no longer shies away from.

Dilf Dick Grayson: Who you pounce on the second the doctor says it's okay to be intimate again, wanting to prove to him just how badly you still crave him. Maybe even more than before because now you were fully his, your husband, the father of your child. You'd never let anyone else love him as well.

Geta

I’ve already made something similar for his jealousy/ possessiveness but I like talking about it so much that I wanted to added onto it ngl. That and I went a little longer with this one then the others cuz I love him.

Geta is more possessive than jealous. Simple as.

While sharing everything with Caracalla has it’s downsides, but the fact that he finally had someone to call his own without the expectation to share you, only made Geta all the more hellbent on keeping you with him and reminding others that you were more then taken by him.

He doesn’t take lightly to people looking at you a second longer then they should or in a similar way that he does -it doesn’t end up pretty for them at all- and your left with the burning glare of his against your back as he silently seethes from his throne, his hand clutching the glass in his hand so tightly that you swore it was going to break within his grasp if he wasn’t careful.

Geta’s possessiveness always pushed him into decorating you in the finest clothes, finest jewels and stones across Rome in order to show that you were his and only his, reminding others that they couldn’t have what he was proud to call his and his only. However he was aware that there were men of such nature who believed that it didn’t matter if you were with him or not, you were still the one they set their sights on regardless.

Geta despised men of such nature, he once told you that those kinds of men were those who lacked a mind, lacked the favour of the gods within any vicinity of their lives and should be considered less then men for trying to take you away from him.

So needless to say you’d have to speak soft words into his skin to remind him that he was the emperor, nothing that is his could ever be taken away from him, not even you as you’d knew he would do everything within his power to get you back while making them pay however he saw fit. You scattered kisses across his warm face and caress the backs of his hands, pamper him in soft love and affection before his anger consumed him completely, all the while telling him all that he needed to hear.

‘I’m yours Geta, never theirs. They can wish for the gods to change our fate but they’re to ones who weaves our love into existence in the first place, for the gods knew that there was never a stronger force then you and I.’ You’d say into his skin as you could feel his heart soften beneath your touch.

Geta’s temper was a pain but not one you couldn’t mange, speak reason into him and watch as his hands grasped you possessively, kneading the skin of your hips as he pulls you towards him to press his forehead firmly again yours as his dark eyes looked deeply into your own.

‘The gods can’t take away the bond they’ve made between us, for that would mean to admit a flaw on their part but the gods never make mistakes, they brought us together for a reason and we should make good on that my love for no one can touch us should we stay as we are now.’ You added on as you watched the anger fade from his eyes.

‘You weave words in ways that’ll make poets jealous my love,’ he replied. ‘But I must agree that nothing will ever touch us should we stay as close as we are now, so let’s stay here for a moment longer while I have you with me now to love and to hold.’ He finishes.

‘What about Rome?’ You’d ask.

‘Rome can wait, I on the other hand cannot wait to taste you my dearest heart.’ Geta replied and all thoughts of his jealously left his body as though it was never there.

Caracalla

Dare I saw somehow even worse than Geta?

Caracalla’s jealously stems from inferiority due to always having to share shit with Geta.

So if he were to ever see that someone was within distance of you, it’s not something that ends well for either you nor the person whom Caracalla was convinced was the perpetrator.

The air is still and stiff as Caracalla would immediately take his place by your side, hand griping your side in a possessive manner, that you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ll soon find bruises from his grasp once you were alone. That is if Caracalla allows you to be alone after this one instance where someone got a little too comfortable with the emperor’s spouse.

The person might as well have been killed then and there or taken away to be killed later by the guards. There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent their death as before long Caracalla would be more than likely accusing you of favouring the company of other people over his.

Now you’d have to tread carefully and make sure no weapons were within sight for him to grab, or anything that he could get his hands on really, and press your case to him that that wasn’t true at all and that you loved him with all your heart.

‘Then shall I cut your heart out and see if it still beats for me even when far removed from your body?’ He’d then say and your heart raced but your face remained calm, collected as any other emotion will only make things worse for you.

‘It shall always beat for you no matter whether you cut it from my chest or rest your head again me to heart it closely as it whispers to you my love.’ You then say as you stepped closer to him, all the while watching his every move as though you were waiting for a concealed weapon to make itself know, but it never did.

‘Lies! You favour Geta over me! No better than the others!’ He’d scream, making you stop in your tracks.

‘Why would I favour him when I married you? Caracalla I’m many things but a liar is not one of them, look into my eyes and seek the truth for yourself should words fall short for your reasoning.’ You tell him as you watched him close the distance between the two of you and look you directly in the eyes with a look you’ve never been on the receiving end of. It was scary but you held your ground in hopes that he would see that you were true.

‘You choose me?’ He’d asks softly this time.

‘In every life I have after this one I shall always choose you.’ You said.

‘Even this one?’ He adds.

‘Even this one my love.’ You echoed.

Caracalla smiled and let out the cutest little giggles that you have ever heard from a bloodthirsty emperor as he threw himself into your arms, holding you tight as though he didn’t threatened to steal your heart earlier. ‘Your heart belongs to me, the gods will it so.’ He says in an almost chant as he pressed his head against your chest and closes his eyes. ‘Your heart speaks to me and call me with words of love, devotion and gratitude.’ He then says as you run your hands through his soft but messy hair.

‘As it should.’ You told him.

‘As it should.’ He echoes softly this time as you stood there just holding one another in a moment of peace that you’d never thought would come.

Marcus Acacius

Doesn’t nearly get as jealous as the two emperors, if anything he’s confident of your relationship to endure a few hardships outside of petty jealously.

However this does not mean the general doesn’t feel it tickle his heart whenever he saw that someone was getting a little too close for his liking towards you, but with a strong and protective hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you close to him.

He takes pride in you and how you can easily draw people in much like you did with him when you first met, proving it to be a testimony to the type of person you were and it was something Marcus admired deeply about you with a smitten smile and softened eyes that were always on you, as though he couldn’t tear them away from you even if he was to try. He loves his beloved spouse and nothing will ever change that and he could always find himself falling more and more in love with you at every possible moment.

It warmed his heart to see you talk to the children of Rome or aiding the elderly but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to step in when he saw an unsavoury character encroach on you while you were unaware. Marcus is protective of his beloved and he wasn’t about to let to leave you to be carelessly open to any and all harm that may come your way. The jealously is in no way aimed towards you as you weren’t doing anything to perpetuate the persons delusions that you were reciprocating to their advances.

Yet a flash of his sword and the unimpressed scowl upon his face was more than enough to deter unwarranted company. Marcus would do anything to make sure that you were comfortable as you’d always be a priority for this dedicated man.

So the man is not above getting a little physical should that be the case for your safety.

Braid Me || LH44 x Reader

Warnings: 18+, hand kink (if you squint), sub!Lewis, (kinda) degrading kink, oral (m)

Wordcount: 1.6k

I couldn’t find a gif where he didn’t have braids, so I settled for this picture instead 🤷‍♀️

She was comfortably laid in her bed. Softly tucked under her duvet

She groaned hearing her phone ring on the bedside table. She debated if she should pick it up or just let it ring through

She turned her body, picking her phone up. She looked at the screen

“What do you want, Lewis?” She asked, tone a little rougher than she intended

“Caught you at a bad time?” He asked, hearing her rough voice

“I was laying so comfortably until you called me” She explained, annoyed at hearing his chuckle “What did you want?”

“Can you help me redo my braids?” He asked, a sigh leaving his lips after he finished

“What? Why? Why me, I mean?” She asked, almost rambling as she sat up

“You’re good at it. You’re fingers are small and can handle it better than myself” He explained

“My fingers aren’t small” She said, sounding offended

“Sure, love” God, his voice always did something to her she was afraid to say “So… You wanna help me or not?”

“I hate you” She said as soon as he opened the door when she rang the doorbell “I’m only doing this because you said my fingers are small. They are not, by the way” She said, pushing past him into the hallway

He took her wrist, holding her hand beside his. Maybe her fingers were small, or maybe it was because his were big, but they did look small beside his

“They are small, love” He said, letting go of her wrist

Just keep touching me

It was something about his hands. The way she could still feel his touch on her wrist, or the way he would linger his touch on her a little too long

“Come on” He said, guiding her into the living room “Want anything to drink? Eat?”

“What do you have?” She said, sitting down on the comfortable couch

“Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, wine if you’re lucky” He said from the kitchen “I have some cookies, I think”

“Hot chocolate and cookies are fine, thank you” She said as he turned around to grab two mugs

“Here you go” He said, placing both mugs and the cookies on the coffee table in front of her

He sat down in between her legs, turning on the tv so he would be entertained while she would undo his braids and do them again

She started from the bottom, softly starting to undo his braids. She noticed the way he stiffened at her touch, which he always did, she didn’t really think about it

She also noticed the way he was only focusing on the tv, not touching his hot chocolate or the cookies, which is weird because he had put something about politics on, which he hated

She got the bottom row done, drawing her fingers through the locks, hearing his breath hitch for a second

“What’s the problem, Lew?” She put her hands on his shoulders, making him flinch slightly

“Nothing. Really, it’s not nothing” Never once looking up at him, afraid he would get lost in her eyes and become a blushing mess

“Okay. It’s just that you’re shoulders are stiff and you’re breath hitched” Her thumbs started circling his shoulders, making him hold his breath “I won’t ask anymore” She chuckled, pulling her hands back to his hair

She tried making small talk with him, but he came with short answers or hums

She had finally gotten the last braid undone “Comb?” She asked, holding her hand beside his shoulder

He placed it softly in her hand, shivering when she accidentally closed her hand around his fingers

She started brushing his hair, softly getting the knots out, getting it soft for her to braid again

She knew she promised to not ask again, but she kept thinking about the way his shoulders were stiff and his breath hitched or were held

“Turn around, Lewis” He hesitated, but did as she told him

He sat on his knees, heels digging in to his ass, his hands laying in his lap as he was looking up at her

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes were soft

It was the softness in them that he fell in love with. They way they could light up the entire room even in the middle of the night in a room with no light

“N-nothing” He looked down, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks and down his neck

“Lewis” She hooked a finger under his chin, making him look up at her again

She noticed the way his pupils now were blown wide, covering the chocolate brown in his eyes

“Kiss me” His voice was low, just above a whisper “Please…?” His eyes flicked from her eyes to her mouth and back to her eyes

“Lew…” She sighed, subconsciously leaning further down, her hand dropping into her lap

“Please” He said again, putting his hands on her thighs, shifting in his position “I’ll do anything”

She cupped in jaw as his fingers tightened around her thighs. His breath hitched again when she leaned in

He kissed back immediately when their lips made contact. She meant it to just be one short kiss, but when she felt his lips on hers, she didn’t want to let go

She pressed their lips harder together, making him whimper. He managed to get up and into her lap without breaking the kiss

Her hands landed on his waist while his arms were around her neck, pulling her closer into him

Her tongue glided across his bottom lip, and he opened up without hesitation

The feeling of her tongue against his made a low moan slip from him, sending vibrations into her lips

Her hands traveled from his waist, over his hips, and landed on his ass. She squeezed him softly, drawing out a surprised yelp from him

“Please” He whimpered breathlessly, pulling slightly away from her lips so he could speak “Need you” His lips were still grazing hers

“Need me? How bad?” She asked in a teasing tone, lips going to his neck, making him moan quietly

“So fucking bad” His hands went to the hem of her shirt, tugging at it softly “Please. ‘M begging you”

Her hands went under his shirt, her lips away from his neck to pull it over his head and throw it carelessly on the ground

“Is that why you called me over? To get fucking laid?” She asked, hands tracing his abs, making him shiver

“N-no. I needed help with my braids” He said, eyes closed as his head laid in the crook of her neck

“And to get laid” She stated, hands working on his belt, loving the way he rolled his hips subconsciously

“No, but I was hoping” He let out a sigh when she finally got his belt off and zipped the zipper down

“This is not going to work like this” She sighed. She grabbed his hips turning them around so, he was sitting on the couch as she was on her knees in front of him

Her hands went back to the waistband of his jeans, hooking her fingers into both the jeans and his boxers, tapping his hip to lift up as she pulled them down

She helped him get out of the jeans so she could spread his legs and sit in between them, getting closer to his cock

“Just like that, baby” She says softly, kissing the inside of his thigh, earning a whimper from him as he throws his head back against the couch

She licks off the pearl of pre cum that had gathered on the tip, draw a moan from him and a shutter of his hips

She held his waist as her tongue circled around his tip, drawing lewd moans from him

“F-fuck. D-don’t tease. Please. Too sensitive” His hands gripped her biceps hard, nails digging into her skin through the sleeves

“What? Think you come from just this?” She asked teasingly before she resumed her actions

“If you keep going- fuck… Then, yes” His moans were like music to her ears. Music that hit just the right nerves “Please”

She gave in, hollowing her cheeks, taking all of him into her mouth, making him hit the back of her throat

She gaged around him, earning a whimper from him, making her smile up at him, starting to bob her head

“Fuck, please- Ah” He started bucking his hips, meeting her mouth halfway, hitting her throat at every thrust

“Please- Fuck- I’m gonna- Ah. Close” He was unable to form any proper sentence

She felt him twitch in her mouth, smiling to herself, she slowed down, which earned her a whine, but was soon replaced with even louder moans when she swirled her tongue around him again

“Yes- Fuck- Can- I need- I’m gonna” The ‘warning’ was the only thing he got out before he shot his cum down her throat, his whole body shaking

She swallowed all of his cum before standing up. Chuckling at the way he looked. Whole body covered in sweat, his curly hair clinging to his forehead, eyes closed, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace

“You okay, baby?” She asked, leaning down to kiss his jaw

“Mhm” He said, managing to open his eyes “Don’t think I can… Give you one more” He said honest, glossy eyes looking up at her

“It’s fine. We’ll do more another time. Come on, we’ll shower” She pulled him up from the couch, catching him when his knees gave out

“Another time? There’s gonna be another time?” He asked, placing his head into the crook of her neck

“Only if you want to” She said, helping him into the tub before starting the water

“Would like that” He said, leaning slightly forward so she could slide in behind him “Would really like that” He sighed, leaning into her touch behind him

Off limits || C.S

Dark Carlos sainz x Lando Norris girlfriend reader

Warnings- dark Carlos, forced kissing, manipulative behaviour, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping

Summary— his bestfriends girl, you were off limits to him yet that won’t stop him from having you.

He felt sick, his stomach twisting and convulsing uncomfortably watching the girl he knew was made to be his wrapped in the arms of another man. His bestfriend to be exact.

His grip on his cold beer tighten watching Lando whisper things in your ear making you blush and giggle like a little school girl, at first Carlo wasn’t going to come to the party the drivers were having yet he decided it’s time he makes you his, Lando be dammed.

His patience finally ran out, his fingers were twitching to pull you away from Lando and into his arms where you belong.

He perked up seeing you wander outside after whispering in Lando ear saying you wanted fresh air denying his offer to go with you.

You sigh greedily breathing in the clean fresh air, the room was getting stuffy being in between all the sweaty people. It was making you feel suffocated, you never liked going out but since being with Lando who was a social butterfly, he got you out of your comfort zone and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“ you know how dangerous it is out here for a beautiful girl like you carino?” You jump hearing a deep voice, yet the tension leaves your body seeing this just Carlo, your boyfriend’s bestfriend who was always nice to you.

“ just had to get fresh air” you smile kindly at him yet he didn’t seem happy but your response. “ if you were my girl I would of never let you go out here alone where you could get hurt, I’ll would keep you in my arms safe and sound. Let’s be honest sweetheart you deserve a man not a little immature boy like Lando” Carlos tells you backing you against a wall.

You gulp, Carlo put his arms on the brick wall on either sides of your head, trapping you. You felt nervous and uncomfortable, all you wanted to do was run into lando’s arms never leaving them.

“ you don’t know how hard it was to watch you smile and give affection to that little boy, when it should be me” you hissed, his nose brushed against yours. His Brought his pointer finger up and caressed your bottom lip jutting it.

“ god your so beautiful mi Amore,” he says, you had to get out of his embrace right now or you were going to faint from how scared you were right now.

You kneed him in the stomach making him drop with a deep groan, you make a run for the door to go back into the party yet you didn’t make it far, he grips your ponytail, yanking it making you fall back to him. You moan in pain from the harsh stinging pain from his strong grip.

“ now, now sweetheart, that was bad” he pins you to him, “ let me go you sick prick!” You yell, he quickly covers your mouth, “ be quiet you little brat!“ he growled in your ear.

You whine feeling a sharp pinch in your neck only to see he has injected you with something, you could guess it was a sleeping drug feeling your body lose all its strength.

“ that’s it baby, go to sleep than we’ll be home when you wake”. You feel him graze your temple with soft kisses before you fall into a bliss of darkness.

Not Over Yet

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: In the heat of a painful argument, you declare that your relationship with Max is over, leaving him desperate to hold on.

1.3k words / Masterlist

The deafening silence of the Monaco apartment was suffocating. The echoes of the fight still rang in the air long after the words had been spoken. Max sat on the edge of the couch, his fingers gripping the fabric so hard his knuckles were white. You stood across the room arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as if trying to hold everything together.

“We’re over, Max.” The words hung heavy in the room, each one feeling like a stone dropped into a deep well.

He looked up, his blue eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “What?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

You turned away from him, unable to face the hurt in his eyes. The hurt that mirrored your own. “I said, we’re done. I can’t—” You struggled to keep your voice steady. “I can’t keep doing this.”

The argument had started hours ago—something small, something insignificant that had spiralled out of control like it always did these days. The never-ending travel, the constant pressure. You knew what you were signing up for when you fell for him, but lately, it felt like everything else in your life had taken a backseat. There were always missed dinners, cancelled plans, and nights where you felt like the third wheel to his love affair with the track.

Max’s eyes hardened for a moment, his pride kicking in as he stood up and paced the length of the living room. “You think I don’t give enough to this relationship?” He snapped, his voice rising. “I work my ass off every day, trying to make sure we have everything. I’m always thinking of you, even when I’m on the track. I—”

“It’s not about the money or the success, Max!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “It’s about us. About how I feel like I’m always second to everything else in your life. Like I’m not as important.”

Max stopped in his tracks, his back to you as he exhaled sharply. He raked a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm his emotions. “That’s not fair,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still laced with frustration.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the tears threatening to spill over. “What’s not fair is me feeling alone when you’re standing right next to me.”

He turned to face you, the anger in his eyes replaced with something softer. But it was too late. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. The weight of your decision pressed down on your chest, and you took a deep breath before you spoke again.

“We’re over,” you whispered. The finality in your voice made it feel real. “We have to be.”

Max’s face went pale. He took a step toward you, but stopped himself his hands twitching at his sides. He looked at you, really looked at you, for what felt like the first time in weeks. “You…you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You choked on the words as soon as they left your lips. You didn’t mean it. Not really. But you couldn’t keep living in the shadows, couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Max’s heart hammered in his chest the fear of losing you clawing at his throat. He had faced impossible races, gut-wrenching crashes, the pressure of the world’s expectations—but nothing compared to the panic that gripped him now. The thought of losing you, of truly being without you, was something he couldn’t handle.

He shook his head slowly, refusing to accept what you were saying. “No. No, we’re not over.”

You blinked back the tears, confused by the certainty in his voice. “Max, you can’t just—”

“I’m not letting you go,” he interrupted, his voice firm but low, almost pleading. “I know I’ve been…distracted. I know I haven’t been there the way I should. But you don’t get to decide we’re done. You can’t just give up on us. Not like this.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The apartment felt too small, too full of emotions that neither of you could control.

You felt your defences crumbling, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. But the hurt was still too raw. “It’s not that simple, Max.”

Max closed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hands coming up to gently cup your face, forcing you to look at him. His touch was warm grounding you in a way only he could.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice softer now, desperate. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But I love you. You. You’re not second to anything. You never were. I’m an idiot for making you feel that way, but please…please don’t give up on us.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to let the walls you had built around your heart crumble. But the fear was still there—the fear that things wouldn’t change, that this would be your life forever, always wondering if you were enough.

Max’s thumb gently brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. It was rare to see Max like this, so raw, so open.

You closed your eyes trying to steady your breathing, trying to find the words to say. “Max, I just… I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

He pulled you closer his forehead resting against yours as he took a deep, shaky breath. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything.”

His words were sincere, and you could feel the desperation in his voice. It wasn’t like Max to beg, to be so vulnerable, and it only made your resolve weaken further.

“I don’t want us to be over,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m always competing for your attention either.”

Max pulled back slightly, his hands still gently holding your face as he looked into your eyes. “You’re not competing. I love what I do, but I love you so much more. There’s no competition.”

It was the first time he had ever said it so clearly, so bluntly and it took your breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I forgot about what really matters. You. Us. I swear to you, I’ll do better. I’ll make time for us.”

His sincerity was undeniable, and for the first time in a long time you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could change. Maybe you could find a way to make it work.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I don’t want to lose you either Max.”

Relief washed over his face and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go. “You won’t. I promise you won’t.”

For a long moment you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms the weight of the fight slowly lifting as you both began to breathe a little easier. The future was still uncertain, and there would be more challenges ahead, but for now you were both willing to try.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like the two of you were on the same team.

Max pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “We’re not over,” he said softly, as if he needed to hear it out loud.

You nodded, resting your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. “We’re not over.”

Axl funny moment