Wreckage - Charles Leclerc (3/4)

I can easily imagine Anakin learning sewing to make clothes to his partner

White Noise | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: [Soulmate AU] In a world where soulmate marks promise connection, one person’s endless wait collides with another’s relentless pursuit of a life beyond destiny.

Warning(s): Mild Language, angst, hurt/comfort for like a small bit, fluff, for like tiny moment. Basically, they finally talk. Alternating povs.

Part 4 ~Series Masterlist~

"I've been the archer, I've been the prey, Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?....But who could stay?"

Y/N's heart was racing, pounding in her chest like a drum, each beat reverberating through her entire body.

The moment she had stepped into the room, she felt it—the unmistakable pull, the presence of him. Her soul’s reaction was instantaneous, a thrumming sensation deep within her, filling the hollow space that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

The pulse, the ringing in her ears, it was all him.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.

She had always thought, somehow, that she would be prepared for this moment, where she would have to finally confront him, but standing in the midst of a crowded party, the weight of everything crashing down on her, she wasn’t ready.

The memories of Bahrain flooded her mind—the first time she had felt it, the moment her heart had surged with desperation. But it had been too much.

She had run then, and now, she was running again.

Her feet carried her forward without her consent, an instinct she couldn’t stop. She had made it to the hallway, the coolness of the air helping to clear her head, but she knew, deep down, that he was following.

She could hear his footsteps, his voice rising above the noise of the party.

"Wait!"

His shout cut through her thoughts, piercing the air with urgency. His voice—his tone—was enough to make her stumble, her heart skipping, the sound of it thrumming in her chest, drowning everything else out.

"Stop, please."

The pleading, desperate tone sent a sharp tremor through her. She couldn’t explain why, but it was like an invisible thread pulling at her, urging her to turn around.

Her body seemed to act on its own, and before she could think, she was facing him, standing there in the hallway, his figure illuminated by the soft lights behind him.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze met his. His eyes were wide, searching—no, desperate, as he took a step closer, his presence magnetic, impossible to ignore.

He was right there. So close. Yet, the distance between them felt like an entire universe.

"Please, just let me talk to you. Once. Please."

The sincerity in his voice was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

She had tried so hard to block out the pull, the ache deep inside of her, but hearing that one word—please—it undid everything.

It made her pause, made her stand still. It was as though the universe had stopped just for this moment, just for him to speak those words, those two simple syllables that somehow held the weight of a thousand unspoken things.

For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. The bond, the overwhelming pull of their connection, was like a storm inside her.

She could feel her pulse in every part of her body, an unbearable rhythm that matched the frantic thrum of her thoughts.

Why is this happening now?

The question spun in her mind, but she didn’t have the answers. She didn’t want to have the answers. Not yet. Not when she had worked so hard to push this all away.

But as his eyes searched hers, she realized there was no denying it anymore. She couldn’t pretend anymore.

He was here, in front of her, and that was something she had to face.

This isn’t a game, her mind whispered to her. This is real.

She swallowed, trying to steady her breath, but her heart wouldn’t let her. The sound of it, so loud, so clear in her ears, only seemed to grow louder the longer she stood there, staring at him.

He took a cautious step forward, as though unsure whether to approach or wait for her permission.

Y/N could see the hesitation in his posture, the way his muscles were tense, ready to react to whatever she might do next.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, a gesture that was barely there but enough to give him the signal.

Slowly, she turned and began walking down the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors.

She heard his footsteps behind her, closer now, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the bond or the weight of the moment, but it felt as though the air around her was thickening, pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, but Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached a door at the far end, a small storage room that had been used to store event supplies. It was tucked away from the bustling party, isolated, quiet—perfect for what needed to happen next.

Without looking back, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, boxes and supplies stacked haphazardly against the walls. The space smelled faintly of cardboard and dust, but Y/N didn’t care. She needed this isolation. She needed to clear her head, even if just for a moment.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she finally turned to face him.

Max stood just inside the doorway, his hand on the handle as if he was still unsure whether to cross the threshold completely. His expression was a mix of determination and uncertainty, and she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like it was pulling at her from all directions.

He stepped forward then, his presence filling the small space between them.

Her eyes flickered to him, then quickly down to the floor. She couldn’t meet his gaze for too long, not yet. Not when she was still so terrified of what this meant.

Max didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, close but still holding back, waiting for her to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she was ready to talk.

But all she could do was breathe—deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm herself down. The pulse in her chest was almost deafening. She knew that she had to speak, there was no turning back now.

But still, she hesitated.

Max shifted on his feet, the tension in his posture thick, as if he was about to break, but he held himself together—barely. His fingers were twitching at his sides, and he felt the hum deep in his chest, a gnawing ache that wouldn’t subside.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the heavy silence like a crack in a wall. "Max," he said, his voice rough, but it wasn’t the authoritative tone he used in the paddock, or the smooth calm of someone used to dealing with media.

This was Max—vulnerable, unsure. The kind of Max who didn’t often show himself.

"Max Verstappen," he added, as though his name should mean something, though he already knew it wouldn’t. Not with the way she ran from him.

Y/N didn’t react, not right away. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest, a protective shield she had built up over the years and didn’t dare lower. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.

Max couldn’t help himself; he took a step closer, the pull drawing him forward as though the space between them was shrinking. But she didn’t move, her gaze still locked downward, her posture as stiff as steel.

"I don’t bite," he added with a half-smile, though it was strained, the humor barely there. He tried to make light of it, but it wasn’t working. The tension was too thick, the pulse between them too strong, too loud in his ears.

She remained silent, the words staying on the tip of her tongue. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he leave her be?

He pressed on, the silence growing unbearable. His frustration was creeping in, and he didn’t bother hiding it. "You’re not gonna run again, are you? I don’t know what the hell happened back there, but this..." He gestured between them, his hands opening slightly, his frustration flaring.

"This can’t be a mistake. I felt it, and I know you did too." His words came out blunt, as direct as he could manage, with no filters, no hesitation.

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and she took in a slow breath, but the words didn’t come. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say anything.

She could feel the pulsing, the hum, the ache in her bones, her chest, her heart. It was all him. But how could she acknowledge it?

"Why did you run?" Max’s voice cracked just slightly as he asked, the vulnerability that he rarely showed slipping through.

He didn’t wait for an answer, though. He knew. He felt it.

"You think I’m just some guy in a hotel room, shaking hands with sponsors, a guy who just races for a living, and that’s all I am? You think that’s all I can be?" His voice softened, but the frustration was still there, curling around his words like smoke. "I don’t even know your name, but I can’t... I can’t just let you run away again."

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words. There was a bite in his voice now, a quiet hurt that she couldn’t ignore. It stung, sharp and unexpected.

Max took another step, his eyes locking on hers, desperate for something—anything—that would help him understand this.

But all he found was cold, detached silence. It was like hitting a wall, and yet, somehow, that wall was cracking, just a little, with each second that passed. He could feel it in his chest, in the air between them.

"Are you just going to stay silent?" he asked, frustration giving way to a tinge of sadness.

"Is that how you’re going to play this? Because I can’t stand it. I want us to talk, to figure this out, I've waited so long. I—" He stopped, realizing how much he was saying, how exposed he had become. He had never been this open with anyone. Not like this.

Y/N’s gaze flicked up then, just briefly, her eyes meeting his. The connection between them flickered, a brief, sharp spark that ignited everything inside him. She was silent, but in her eyes, he saw something.

Fear. Anger. And beneath that, a thread of longing—a recognition.

“I’m not going to run,” she finally said, her voice firm, but with a quiver beneath the surface. Her words were clipped, like they were hard to get out, like they didn’t fit the situation.

She had never been good at this. At feeling things, at letting herself feel things that weren’t controlled. But here she was. Here.

Max’s expression softened, but only just. He could see through her, even if she tried to hide it. He could see the cracks in her facade, the way she was breaking just a little with every word, every silence.

“Then what are you going to do?” he asked, almost desperate now. He stepped closer again, close enough that the hum between them seemed to pulse with an intensity that made his heart race.

He could feel the gravity between them, the pull, the ache. And it was growing. She was so close—so close but still, so far.

She met his gaze fully now, the stone wall that she’d built around herself finally starting to crumble, piece by piece. The look in her eyes was something Max had never seen before—not in the paddock, not in the chaos of the races, not in the heat of victory. This was something else.

______________________________

Max’s eyes were still on her, searching for something, maybe an answer that would make sense of all the chaos inside her, but there was no easy way to explain this. No way to simplify what had become a tangled mess of emotions and realities.

She couldn't make this easy for him. She knew that, deep down. But it didn’t make the truth any less painful.

"I know you, Max," she started, her voice quiet but steady, though every word felt like it was scraping against her throat. "I know what you’ve worked for. The way people look at you, the expectations, the pressure."

Her chest tightened with the weight of her thoughts, and she couldn’t look away from him, even though she wanted to. “You’ve been built for this life. Racing, winning, being the best. You’ve been molded for the world you live in, Max. And you’ve made it, you’ve fucking made it. I see that. I admire it. I admire you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that had lodged in her throat, feeling the bitter taste of regret already creeping in. "But you don’t understand. I can’t be a part of it. Not with you."

Max flinched slightly, and she could see the hurt flash across his face. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it was inevitable. There was no way around it. Her words cut deeper than she intended.

"I know the Max Verstappen the world sees.” She swallowed, her throat tight. “But I don’t know you. Not the man standing in front of me. Not the man who is supposed to be my soulmate.”

Max inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“I waited for you too, you know?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cracked under the weight of the words. “For years, I waited. At first, it was hope. Every birthday, every trip, every new place—I looked for you. I searched for something, anything, that could mean you were close. And then… hope turned into anger. Because you weren’t there. And I was supposed to be okay with that?” She shook her head. “I was supposed to live my life knowing the person meant for me was out there but nowhere near me?”

Max’s jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

“And then the anger faded too. And all that was left was... indifference.” She met his gaze then, unwavering.

“Because I had to move on. I had to build something for myself. I had to be enough for myself. For me”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And I did it. I built a life, Max. A life that didn’t need a soulmate to feel complete. A life that I carved out with my own two hands, while people pitied me for never finding you. While they whispered that I would never be whole.” Her voice hardened.

“But I proved them wrong. I am whole. I have my business. My work. A life that makes sense, a life that I control.”

Her hands trembled again, and this time she didn’t bother hiding them. She looked at him, at the storm in his eyes, at the way his lips pressed into a thin line, at the way he was fighting—really fighting—not to interrupt her.

“And now, suddenly, you’re here.” Her voice was raw now, like it had been scraped against glass. “Just when I finally have a grasp on everything, you appear and you expect me to throw all of it away? Just because the fucking universe says we’re meant to be?”

Max flinched, just barely.

“How do you know we’ll make it, Max?” She demanded. “You race. I work. You live in the spotlight, I built my life in the shadows. You chase adrenaline, I crave steadiness. Our lives are nothing alike.” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “And then there’s the fans. The media. The circus that follows you wherever you go. How am I supposed to handle that? How do we fit, Max? How can we?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She licked her lips, voice quieter now. “I’ve spent my whole life proving that I don’t need another person to be whole. That I don’t need someone to complete me. And now you’re asking me to risk all of that… for the idea of you?”

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. She could see it in his face—the hurt, the frustration, the determination.

____________________________

Max let the silence stretch, let her words settle deep in his bones. He felt each one like a weight pressing against his ribs—sharp, heavy, relentless. But he didn’t move, didn’t waver.

Because she was here. Because she hadn’t run.

And because she was wrong.

His voice, when it came, was quiet but steady. “You say you don’t know me. And you don’t.” His gaze was unwavering. “But I don’t know you either.”

Her breath caught.

“And yet,” Max continued, taking a slow step closer, “I do.”

She tensed, but she didn’t retreat.

“I know how you walked into that room, completely composed, completely in control—until you saw me. I know the exact second you felt it, the moment the ground tilted under your feet, the way your eyes widened, just a fraction, before you turned and.. left.” His tone was measured, deliberate. “I know you’re standing here right now because you want to be, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Her fingers twitched by her sides, barely perceptible.

Max took a step forward, slow, measured, like approaching something fragile. “You talk about waiting for me, about searching for me, about how hope turned into anger, then nothing at all.” His voice hardened. “Do you think I don’t understand that? Do you think I didn’t feel the same fucking thing?”

She inhaled sharply.

“I grew up knowing I had someone out there. Someone I was supposed to find. And I hated it.” His jaw tensed. “Because how the hell was I supposed to look for someone when my entire life was planned before I could even fucking walk?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t have time to search, Y/N. I didn’t have the luxury. I had racing. I had pressure. I had expectations so heavy they nearly crushed me before I was old enough to understand them. I was too busy proving I deserved to be where I was.” His voice turned rough, honest. “And I did it alone.”

“You say I wasn’t there for any of it.” His voice lowered.

“Neither were you.”

She flinched and Max felt his heart break a little.

His tone softened. “You don’t know if we’re meant to be together, and you know what? Maybe we’re not.” He shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll fucking hate each other. Maybe you’ll get sick of me in a month, and I’ll drive you insane. But we don’t know that.” He exhaled. “What we do know is that this is real. It's in our bones, inked on our fucking skin, in the way our hearts have been beating for years, this bond—this is real.”

Silence.

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but no words came out.

Max studied her, eyes searching. “You think this is going to destroy the life you built.” A beat of silence. “Maybe it will.”

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing, but he wasn’t done.

“Or maybe it’ll make it better.” His voice was quiet, but sure. “Maybe you’ll finally let yourself have something that isn’t just work, something that isn’t just proving yourself over and over again to people who don’t matter."

He held her gaze, unwavering. "The truth is, no one knows how this will work. There’s no plan for this. No blueprint. But that doesn’t mean we walk away.”

Her eyes burned into his, searching, dissecting.

Max took a final step closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “That doesn't mean we have to give up our chance—our realest fucking chance to be happy, I'm not asking you to throw your life away for me” He shook his head. “I want you to let me be part of it.”

Something cracked in her gaze.

________________________

The tear catches her by surprise.

She feels it before she registers it, the slow slide of warmth trailing down her cheek, an undeniable crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.

And then—Max is there.

His hand moves before he thinks, his thumb brushing against her skin, wiping it away. The touch is featherlight, a whisper of warmth against her cheek—

And the bond pulses.

Loud. Violent. Consuming.

A shockwave of something unseen, something ancient, something theirs rips through them, and the force of it takes them both down.

Y/N stumbles, her knees buckling, but she never hits the floor.

Max is there—solid, unyielding, his reflexes faster than thought.

His arms catch her, cradle her, steady her as they both collapse onto the cold, dusty floor of the storage room.

And then—silence.

It isn’t tense. It isn’t heavy. It just is.

Her head rests against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart a perfect mirror to her own. His arms are around her, firm but careful, holding her close in a way that feels like he’s meant to.

And the bond—the bond hums.

Not a pulse, not a roar, just a steady, gentle hum. A soundless lullaby. A sigh of relief.

Y/N exhales, her breath ghosting over his suit, and for the first time in her life, she feels content. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t fight it.

She just is.

Her body curls instinctively into his, her forehead pressing against his chest, her fingers gripping lightly at his jacket as she burrows closer. It’s unconscious, inevitable. A pull she can’t deny.

Max feels it too.

His hold tightens, his grip shifting just slightly as he tucks her in closer. His heartbeat steadies, aligning with hers. His breath slows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just holds her, lets her be held.

And in that moment, on the cold, dirty floor of some forgotten storage room, Max Verstappen knows exactly what paradise feels like.

Then—

The illusion shatters.

Y/N’s eyes snap open. The warmth turns to ice in an instant, her body going rigid against his.

Max feels the shift the moment it happens. The way she stiffens, the way her breath hitches like she’s just remembered something terrible.

And then—she pulls away.

Like she can’t get away fast enough.

Max feels it like a physical blow.

She scrambles to her feet, her movements sharp, almost frantic, as she wrangles her hands together, fingers twisting against each other—a nervous tic, he realizes. An anxiety response.

He gets up slower, brushing dust from his sleeves, forcing his breath to stay even, forcing himself to stay.

Silence stretches between them.

This time, it isn’t peaceful.

This time, it’s awkward. Tense. Something lingering between them, something neither of them can name, something neither of them can face.

Y/N is the first to break it.

Her voice is quiet, but firm. “Time, Max.”

A pause.

“I need time.”

And then she turns, and walks away.

Max is left standing there.

The hum in his chest—so loud, so certain just moments ago—fades into something hollow, something aching.

She’s gone.

The warmth of her body, the perfect way she fit against him, the peace he had never known—ripped away as if it had never been real.

He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, like he’s trying to steady himself on the edge of something devastating.

He had her.

For a second, for a fleeting, impossible moment, Max Verstappen had everything.

And now—

Now, he has nothing.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part, please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Well, well, well, what do you think is going to happen next? This took out alot from me. I'm the type of woman who feels that I don't need a man to complete me. And yet, I yearn for love so much, that it hurts. So maybe I'm pouring a bit of myself into this. I can only hope that you all like it.

Jules♡

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Reblog if reading someone else’s fanfiction has helped you get through a hard day

I was talking with a friend about fanfics and when I said that when I like an author I write down their username and that sometimes I even write phrases about them SHE CALLED ME CREEPY

@ Anakin Skywalker × Female!Reader

— english is not my first language; I'm just trying to practice don't pay attencion to this please

⚠️ mentions of rape and violence

tags: angst and a little of confort

Summary: Someone tried to rape reader while Anakin was on a mission, the last thing that the reader wants, is to talk about it. — ao3

Anakin was coming back from a successful mission, joking around with Ashoka about how many droids they destroyed, a normal habit. He was so excited from coming back home that he couldn't suppress his smile; but Obi Wan, who received them, wasn't happy. 

While the others masters looked like always, serious. Obi Wan looked at Anakin with worried eyes. 

" Is something wrong, Master? " Anakin asked, a little disappointed for not seeing you on the platform waiting for him, he wanted to be with you so bad. Stepping far from the others, finally his master answered. 

" Promise me that you are not going to freak out " Obi Wan pursed his lips, while Anakin frowns with a confused look.

" Why? " Anakin tried it to make a smile to hide his bad mood , if he was going to be sent to another long mission, he was not going to be able to bear it. Obi Wan gave him the look—I'm not going to answer until you promise—. " Okay, I promise. What happened? "

Obi Wan sighs before telling him that in the last gathering you showed up trying to hide some bruises on your body, and when Obi Wan interrogated you about it, you only said that it was nothing. Obi Wan couldn't just ignore it, you were a Senator and if you were in some kind of danger, he should inform it.

And he knows that you are close to Anakin, probably more than you should,  seeing how his padawan left barely he ended the sentence, confirmed his thoughts.

In your room, a sweet cup of tea aromatizes while you're reading papers from work. Your clothes hid the bruises on your skin, even though it had been a few days they still hurt when you pressed them. Knowing Anakin was arriving today, the concerning feeling about how you were gonna pass unnoticed makes you wanna throw out. 

Lying to Anakin wasn't one of your favorites activities, at all. However, telling him the reason for your bruises could ruin everything, could make him hate you. And that was the last thing you wanted. 

Even though you spent the last few days figuring out how to deal with this, when Anakin appeared in front of you, you realized that you weren't prepared at all. Getting inside of your room, Anakin didn't hesitate in grabbing your hand and lifting up the sleeve of your dress, watching the bruises of differents colors caused a huge impact on the jedi. You tried to hide them with your other hand but Anakin didn't allow it. 

" Who did this to you? " His eyes full of anger made you swallow, trying to keep calm.

" It's okay, Anakin. It's not a big deal" with a smile you stand up, your heart beat painfully. This was not going to work. 

" It's not okay, and you know it. Tell me who the person is." He wasn't asking, you avoided his touch, feeling that your disgusted skin didn't deserve to be touched for no one you loved. Maybe If you revealed a little of the truth he would let you forget it. 

" I really don't know" 

But Anakin didn't let you get away, trapping you between the desk and his body, your hand covered by his gentle touch made you wanna cry. 

" How did this happen?" He was so close that you could feel his breath, your eyes down revealed that you didn't want to look at him. Nevertheless Anakin wasn't going to give up "Love, how did this happen?" 

Feeling like you were collapsing, your cheek was held by Anakin, you looked up with a miserable expression.

"Can't we just forget about this? I really don't want to talk about it." You wanted Anakin to hold you close enough to wipe the dirt off your body.  He did, he hugged you around your waist and hiding his head on your shoulder.  After a long time, you finally felt safe.

You weren't prepared to relive that night, and Anakin could feel your pain, promising himself that he would find the person who hurt you and pay for It.

Home ; Anakin Skywalker

@ Anakin Skywalker × Female!Reader

Summary: Reader runs away from home because of her parents' mental abuse, Anakin receives her.

Warning: Mental Abuse

Tags: Comfort, Confessions, Friends to Lovers

You can also read it in AO3!

Walking along the street, it looked like the sky was about to fall, the storm was strong, and your wet clothes made it difficult to advance. Some people were running under the rain, and others hid under the roof; you walked, how fast you were able. 

You were mentally tired, and even if you were freezing, it was so much better than staying in your parent's house. You knew the way to your comfort, to the person who could make you safe, and loved. At the end of the street, a little blue house highlighted among the others, your hands shaking, and your wet eyes weren't a barrier to knock on the door; at first, with a soft punch, but when no one answered, your desperation took control under your decisions. You heard the steps coming, and tried to straighten your hair; the door opened, letting you see him. 

Anakin was startled, his clothes were dirty and his face was stained with dust, but you were worse off. Your wet hair, red nose and eyes worried him immediately, wrapping his arms around and pulling you inside. 

“ Are you out of your mind? Don't you know how dangerous it is going out with this storm?” Anakin took off one of his clothes to cover you, his voice sounded like he was furious, you were aware that he was worried; he was always worried about you, and you also wanted to do something for him, but he never came to you to ask for a favour. His hands attempted to share some warmth, your skin was cold and the wet clothes did not help. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go'' Hearing your whisper, made Anakin understand. You didn't mean to put yourself in danger, you just wanted to escape. Anakin was aware of the problem that your parents represented, instead of being responsible for their own mistakes, they chose to responsibilize you for that. Mentally abusing you, every time they were stressed. 

He lent you some clothes, they were too big for you but the fabric was soft and a faint whiff of Anakin’s perfume, which instantly made you feel safe. R2D2 was there, next to you, you posed your hand on the top of his head. 

“Hi, R2” he made some happy robotic sounds causing your smile. Anakin entered the room checking if you were more calm than before, you noticed him and without stopping yourself you called him. Right away, your ears blushed. 

“ Sorry, I was just… Are you feeling better now? ” It was the first time that Anakin looked like this, shy or at least that was how you saw him. He wasn't shy, he was trying to hide his anger, his frustration for not being able to protect you from your parents. 

“ Yes, thank you for the clothes” you replied, settling down to get out of the bed. With a smile "Did I surprise you?”

Anakin leaned against the door frame.

“ A lot, actually. But I'm glad you came here” If you were close to him, he knew that he could protect you. “Is there something you want to eat?” 

Standing up you smiled kindly, Anakin's house was beautiful, it was comfortable but most of all it had Anakin in it; however no matter how kind he is, you could not abuse his time and space. 

“No, I think I should go to my house” The abuse of your parents, their words were strong, but that shouldn't mean that you should simply carry away yourself for your desires. You passed by his side. “ I will send you back these clothes, probably tomorrow after work. Sorry for annoying your evening”

“Annoying?” Anakin laughed stunned. “If I tell you I don't find you annoying, would you stay for dinner?”

You giggled nervously, his touch on your wrist and his words were a clarifying factor as to why your heart was beating so fast. You knew you were useless, that your feelings for Anakin were something that you could not allow yourself, that you should try harder for being enough. 

“ Anakin, really, I'm glad but-” 

“ If you’re glad, you should thank me accepting my proposing” 

Anakin was asking you for something, and you couldn't handle saying no to him. You were good at cooking, so you offered to do it, but Anakin was very persistent with the idea of him cooking. You and R2D2, were not convinced as much as him, promising to keep an eye on him, the result was good, and a much tastier meal than you had thought was served.

“ What did they say this time?” Suddenly Anakin asked in the silence of the dinner, since you didn't understand, he added “I mean, your parents, what did they say? “

“ Uh, nothing, they were angry and we fought” Trying to sound like you were fine, your eyes didn't direct towards him. 

“You fought…?” Anakin asked before fakely smiling. “If they are insulting, it's not a fight. Its abuse ”

Stupid, dumb bitch, useless, you're only a problem. 

“ No… I don't think it's like that” you murmured trying to convince yourself. You were aware that your parents weren't the best, or even kind. You felt hurt, unfortunately they were your parents, and no matter how much pain they do to you, hating them was so much harder than anyone could imagine. 

“ You don't deserve to be treated like this” Anakin affirmed with the confidence that you didn't have.  Anakin grabbed your hand, gently touching it. “Not even for your parents” 

His voice was sweet, giving you chills, your heart was weak. 

“ Anakin, you're kind and I don't deserve-” 

“ T/n don't even dare to say that, you're fantastic” Anakin breathed, he needed to ask for it “Stay this night” 

You didn't pretend to misunderstand his words. 

“ I like you, and I want to stay with you, I want to protect you” He added.

Maybe, there was nothing to misunderstand. He kneels down in front of you.  “Ani…” you were out of breath. “ I like you too ”

OKAY I made so much mistakes, remember spanish is my first language and im just learning english.

searching red bull outfits inspo just beacuse maybe I really buy the rb cap for my birthday

I spent the day redecorating my layout now im a proper f1 girly

collecting these 🥴

Retirement and a Failed Proposal

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✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

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She and Seb had a history—complicated, very complicated. Both now retired drivers, both multiple-time world champions, both stubborn, both competitive, both once lovers, both once rivals, both once acquaintances, and both lovers once again. She had just retired, and it was that, the culmination of her F1 career, that almost signified the end of her dispute with Seb. And she hadn't forgotten him, at all. And he hadn't forgotten her, at all. He was two years retired by now. It was picking things up from the sparks, not the ashes. 

The stars above seemed impossibly bright, their reflection shimmering across the gentle waves of the Mediterranean. The sailboat rocked softly beneath you, a quiet rhythm to the vast stillness around. She was leaned back against Seb’s chest, his arms loosely wrapped around her as the two of them sat on the deck.

It had been a peaceful evening, just the two of them, reminiscing and sharing moments that felt suspended in time. His presence was so natural, as if those years of tension, heartbreak, and rivalry had never been.

Sebastian shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You know,” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant, “these past few months have felt… different. Like I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

She smiled softly, turning her head to look at him. “You’re not too bad for a washed-up driver,” she teased, earning a quiet laugh from him.

But then his expression changed, the humor fading into something more serious, more intense. “I mean it,” he said, his eyes locked onto hers. “For years, I tried to move on, to convince myself that I didn’t miss you, that I didn’t need you. And then you retired, and it felt like the universe was giving us another chance. And now, I don’t want to waste it.”

She blinked, her heart skipping as he gently untangled himself from she and reached into his pocket.

“Seb…” she started, but the words caught in her throat as he pulled out a small velvet box.

He opened it, revealing a simple yet stunning ring that glinted under the starlight.

“I know this might seem fast,” he said, his voice steady despite the flicker of nervousness in his eyes. “But I’ve known for a long time what I want. It’s you. It’s always been you. Will you marry me?”

For a moment, she just stared at him, her mind racing. The love she felt for him was undeniable, and being with him again felt like coming home, the home she's been away from for too long. But it had only been three months since they’d reconnected, since you’d started to rebuild something from the sparks that had never really died.

“Seb,” she said softly, her hands reaching for his. “I… I love you. I love she so much. But this feels rushed. It’s been three months. We’re still finding our footing again.”

His expression faltered slightly, but he nodded, listening intently.

“I want to be with you,” she continued, “but we’ve been through so much. I don’t want to jump into something this big without being sure we’re ready. We owe it to ourselves to do this right.”

Seb exhaled slowly, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. He closed the box and set it aside, taking her hands in his.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I got ahead of myself. It’s just… being with you again feels so right, so easy, and I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” she assured him, squeezing his hands. “We have time, Seb. Let’s take it.”

He nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. “Okay. No pressure, no rushing. Just us.”

“Just us,” she repeated, a smile breaking through.

The stars continued to shine above, the sea calm beneath, and as Seb pulled her into a warm embrace, she felt the weight of the moment lift. The ring could wait; her love wasn’t going anywhere.

Seb pulled her closer, resting his chin atop her head as the two of she sat in the embrace of the quiet night. His arms wrapped securely around you, the warmth of his body contrasting with the cool sea breeze.

After a moment of silence, his voice broke through, low and teasing. “Alright, no wedding yet. But… what about a child?”

She tilted her head back to look at him, narrowing her eyes. His lips were curved into that familiar, mischievous grin that always made her heart flutter, even when she wanted to roll her eyes.

“Sebastian,” she said, a warning laced in her tone, though her lips twitched with amusement.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence, his grin widening. “I mean, if marriage is too rushed, surely we could—”

She cut him off with a soft nudge to his side, eliciting a laugh from him.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“But you love me,” he shot back, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

She let out a small huff, her mock exasperation melting into a soft smile. “Yes, I do. But don’t push your luck, Vettel.”

Seb chuckled, pulling her closer again. “Fine, fine. No babies, no weddings. Just us.”

“Exactly,” she said, resting her head on his chest. “Just us. For now.”

His arms tightened around her as the sailboat swayed gently, the night wrapping around the two of them like a cocoon. And at that moment, with the stars above and the calm sea below, it felt like enough.

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✯ authors note: This is my very first fic!!! English is not my first language and the story is a lil corny, I know. I hope you liked it <333