It's My Birthday!! Today I Post Seb OS

𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Lord! Tom Holland x Brothel girl! Reader

Warning - Virgin!Reader, Historical AU, 1800s timeline, Brothel Setting, Age Gap (Reader 18, Tom 21), Slow Burn, Smut (18+), Oral, Soft Dom!Tom Holland, Sweet & Emotional Sex, Rough sex, Paid Companionship, Emotional, Betrayal, Class Difference, First Time, Debt, Secret Relationship, Romantic Angst & Fluff.

Summary - Y/n, an 18-year-old virgin living in a brothel, has only ever watched the world of love from the sidelines. Raised among painted smiles and broken dreams, she never imagined her life could be anything more—until a gentle-eyed lord walked into her room and asked for nothing but her time.

Tom Holland sees something in her the world never cared to notice. As he keeps returning, again and again, a bond forms, tender, forbidden, and full of hope.

Will he fall in love with her?

Will she ever be free?

Can a girl like her truly have a new beginning…in the halls of Bellrose House?

-----+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+------

Completed ✓

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 : 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐍𝐨

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 : 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 : 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 : 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐈𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 : 𝐇𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : 𝐇𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 : 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 : 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 : 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝, 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐰𝐨 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 : 𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 : 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐢𝐱 : 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 : 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

choices- c.sainz

summary: charles gives you an ultimatum.

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! leclerc! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

When Carlos overtook Charles you knew he was racing purely for himself. You both knew it could be his last podium, and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to share it with his teammate. It just sucked that his teammate was your brother. 

Charles had never been good at sharing when it came to racing, but he was a Ferrari driver through and through, he’d be a team player if he had t, and they were boh supposed to be team players. Carlos was done with it, and you understood why. He’d been second to Charles his entire time at Ferrari, second to Max in Toro Rosso, ousted by Danny Ric in Renault, and now he’d be in Williams. He was sick of being seen as less than his teammates, when, if he had that same backing they did, he could’ve been a World Champion. 

You waited at the barricade for the both of them, not quite sure how they would react. Charles came out first, you’d heard his radio message. 

He walked over to Alexandra with a sigh. “It’s such bullshit,” he scoffed. Then his eyes met yours. “You have to make a choice now, and it isn’t about love. It’s about blood, it’s about dad. He’s not welcome in our home. He’s not fucking welcome at Christmas, at birthdays, ever. You need to pick.”

You stared at him for a moment. He’d never been so harsh. He’d never given you an ultimatum before. Alexandra looked at you, concerned. “Charles, no. That’s not fair-”

“You’re not in this conversation,” he quipped. “Y/n. Choose.”

“Don’t talk to her like that-” 

“Y/n,” Carlos was in front of you, looking at you, practically pleading with you to choose him. You loved him, he loved you. Charles was your brother. 

You looked at your brother. “Carlos,” you said, your voice strong and clear. Carlos wrapped his arms around you as you stared at Charles. He nodded, his lips a line, before he walked off. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against your skin. You could feel the mix of sweat and tears against your neck. He pulled back with a smile. “Thank you. I love you.”

You smiled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Congratulations,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too.”

If Carlos had taught you one thing, it was that love shouldn’t hurt. Charles hurt you time and time again, always playing the older brother card whenever he wanted you to do something. Carlos never did that. He actually loved you. 

He wiped the tears off your cheeks as they fell, “We’ll work it out,” he promised you. “I’ll speak to him.” 

You shook your head. “Enjoy tonight my love,” you smiled. “You’re a winner. I love you.”

He offered a gentle smile. “I love you too.” 

You’d figure it out. Together.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower

hey! osc and pcos!reader here !! thank you so much for writing about it. brings me a lot of comfort and makes me feel seen. you can obviously wait a bit to write this one but maybe osc with pcos reader where he just completely takes care of her like applying heating pads and giving her massages

- 🧸

certified uterus whisperer 🌬️

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: oscar takes care of pcos!reader cause he’s a lil sweetheart

warnings: pcos mention, chronic pain

A/N: i’m so glad u’re enjoying these and can find comfort in them, i literally have two more for pcos!reader lined up (without a req) because i love it so much. thank u for requesting as always, u dk how much i appreciate it :) all for u xx LOVE U BABY ❤️

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

you wake up feeling like a truck ran you over. twice.

your body is heavy. your lower back is already aching. and your stomach feels like someone stuffed it with lead and then lit it on fire for fun.

you don’t even need to check the calendar. it’s one of those pcos days.

you roll over with a groan and immediately catch sight of oscar sitting on the floor, fiddling with something in his hands.

“you’re awake,” he says, bright-eyed, like you didn’t just sound like a dying animal.

you blink at him. “why are you on the floor?”

he grins. “testing the heating pad. it works.”

you squint. “how long have you been awake?”

he shrugs. “not important. anyway. lie back.”

you blink again as he hops up and gently guides you onto your back like a nurse in a very expensive mclaren hoodie. the second your head hits the pillow, he’s already tucking the warm pad under your shirt, resting it low on your belly like he’s done this a hundred times.

“i googled the exact placement,” he says proudly. “they say right over the ovaries.”

“hot,” you mutter.

he winks. “very.”

he disappears for a second, and when he returns, he’s holding a tray like he’s room service.

a glass of water. your painkillers. a tiny bowl of cut fruit. and two chocolate-covered biscuits just because.

you stare at the tray, then at him. “who are you and what have you done with my slightly clueless boyfriend?”

“excuse me,” he says, offended. “i am incredible in a crisis.”

“this isn’t a crisis.”

he gestures to your curled-up position and murder-glare. “looked pretty crisis-y five minutes ago.”

you roll your eyes but pop the painkillers anyway. oscar sets the tray down and climbs back into bed, shifting to sit behind you, his fingers already gently working into your lower back like he knew the exact spot that hurts.

you sigh. loudly. dramatically. “i take it back. you are god’s favorite. and maybe mine”

he grins against your shoulder. “you only say that when i bring snacks and rub your back.”

“because it’s a rare combo.”

“rude.”

his thumbs press into a tense knot just above your hips, and you melt.

“where did you learn this?” you mumble.

“youtube,” he says proudly. “also the ferrari physio owes me a favor.”

you snort. “you asked another team’s physio for period cramp massage tips?”

“he thought i was asking for me,” oscar says casually. “i didn’t correct him.”

you laugh, full-on this time, even though it makes your stomach cramp. “that’s love.”

he hums, warm and low, and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“i know i can’t fix it,” he says softly, “but if i can make it slightly less horrible, i will. always.”

you lean into him, letting the heat and the pressure and the love soak in all at once.

and honestly?

you don’t feel great.

but you do feel loved.

which, today, is more than enough.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

THE MOMENT I KNEW | Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: After a few races where he didn't get the results he expected, Max decides to go out with some friends to disconnect from everything. Unluckily, one of those days when he arrives home after having some drinks, he finds out that he missed his girlfriend's birthday as soon as he sees the cake she ordered on the trash ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe something angsty?? Like maybe bro goes out with his friends and forgets readers bday until he sees the cake in the trash can and realizes bro screwed up

WORD COUNT: 2007

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of being drunk, angst

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: I've absolutely loved this one my God. With this fic, we mark a total of 6196 words written this week (not counting my uni essays and other several projects), so I'm quite proud about that! Also, thank you so much for the support all this week, hope you liked all the fics! I'll be uploading this upcoming week's posts tomorrow. Let me know in the comments or on the anon inbox your thoughts on this one! See you next week :) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Max stumbled into your apartment, fumbling with the keys and opening the door with trembling hands, his pounding headache reminding him that it wouldn’t be this bad if he’d listened to the bartender’s advice to stop after the last gin tonic.

As soon as he stepped inside, he froze in the doorway, scanning everything as if it were his first time entering the place, even though he had been living there for nearly five years, the last two with you. He took a few unsteady steps toward the small entryway counter, where he dropped his keys and realized the silence was far heavier than he had anticipated.

His laughter, faint and fueled by the false sense of security that alcohol had provided, quickly dissipated. Taking a cautious step further into the living room, he noticed there were no lights on, no plates or leftover food on the small coffee table in front of the TV, and most strikingly, you were neither sprawled out on the couch watching one of the romantic movies you adored nor curled up asleep with one of your cats.

Despite the glaring signs, Max didn’t panic, at least not as much as he should have, even though something inside him whispered that the situation didn’t sit right.

It wasn’t until he wandered into the kitchen to get a glass of water and rounded the island that his foot stumbled slightly, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor. Puzzled, he looked down to see what had caused him to trip. His heart sank when his eyes landed on a discarded box, its lid broken as if it had been thrown to the floor, angrily, on purpose.

That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

“I can’t keep waiting, Max,” you said, her voice steady despite the anguish inside. “Today, no matter how much I tried to turn a blind eye, let it go, and even put myself in your shoes… This… everything… after many tries… God, Max, all of this… That was the moment I knew.”

I want to write a alpha!anakin fic :(

Challenge de Escritura

01. Demostracion de amor

— tambien lo puedes leer en ao3 <3

Kylo era, sin lugar a dudas, una persona con dificultades para expresarse. Ya sea física o verbalmente, el siempre vacilaba antes de mostrar su afecto. No tenía muy en claro si eran las consecuencias por la fría relación que tuvo con su madre o por sus enseñanzas como soldado, pero no cabia duda que su corazón se atibio con la llegada de Naeva. 

Kylo quien se levantaba antes que el Sol saliera, quien extendia las expediciones para estar lejos de casa, y quien odiaba los dulces, ahora se encontraba en las tardes de la mañana comiendo masitas dulces junto alguno de los tantos tes que le gustaban a Naeva. El Sol de la mañana entibiaba la habitación, el aroma al dulce cerezo que crecía a las afueras del castillo lo hacía querer volver a dormirse. Lastimosamente, volverse a dormir atrasaría la expedición a la que Kylo debía asistir. 

—Kylo, puedes irte sin preocuparte, sabes que sé cuidarme—Naeva quien siempre estaba tranquila y tenía confianza en sus propia habilidades, no tardaba en darse cuenta que parte de la responsabilidad de su pareja era irse y acompañar a sus tropas. Sin embargo Kylo, había resultado un problema en las últimas salidas, no podía quedarse tranquilo. 

—Prométeme que no vas a salir si no estás acompañada—los mechones oscuros caían sobre la cara de su pareja sin llegar a cubrir su expresión de preocupación, el pecho de la joven se enterneció al darse cuenta y lo prometió dejando un beso de la mejilla de su esposo, quien simplemente perdio la mirada con sus orejas rojas. 

Para Kylo, mostrar su preocupación, era su forma de amar.

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

💘💘💘💘

𝟎𝟎𝟐, PLAYING CUPID

pairing! anakin skywalker x fem!reader

synopsis! r2-d2 can't stand seeing anakin and you fight, so he decides to play his favorite game: being cupid!

warnings! verbal fight, fluff, artoo being such a cutie little droid :c

word count! 4.8k

note! this is the longest shit i've ever written in my whole life 🧍🏻‍♀️IT'S ALSO INSPIRED BY A DREAM I HAD WITH ANAKIN 😩 it's special, i hope you like it as much as i do <33.

my mother tongue is spanish, so i ask for your patience and a lot of kindness in case you want to make an observation about my narration, grammar or spelling. thank you! ♡

© stardi — all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or modify without permission and credits!

The time had long surpassed the stroke of midnight, yet fate had conspired to hold you, Anakin and R2-D2 captive in the war room, surrounded by maps and holographic projections of the enemy's forces. As one of the highest-ranking Generals, the weighty responsibility had fallen upon you and Anakin to devise a strategic plan, one that would orchestrate the downfall of a fortified Separatist stronghold nestled upon a remote planet.

Your eyes felt heavy, your head pounded, and every inch of your body was begging for some rest. All you yearned for was respite, a sanctuary within the confines of your bunk, where you could surrender to slumber's embrace for an entire week. Looking over at Anakin, you could tell that he wasn't feeling any different from you, his body language betraying his exhaustion, letting you know that you weren't alone in your misery. It was as if the weight of the galaxy had settled on both of your shoulders, and you couldn't help but wonder how much longer you and your best friend could keep going like this.

You hated war.

It was a brutal business, and you hated every moment of it. Its destructive nature, the lives it claimed, the endless planning and executing was taking its toll on you. Yet, you soldiered on, fueled by the hope that your efforts would make a difference.

With bleary eyes, you rubbed at the fatigue-induced haze, striving to maintain focus amidst the flickering glow emanating from the tactical map. In that moment, Anakin turned to you. A adorable yawn, one he tried to suppress but failed, escaped his lips with a slight suspire. It was a stark contrast to his imposing figure; strong, broad, and towering. Yet, it was in these small, vulnerable moments that his true essence shone through, captivating your soul like nothing else.

You wondered if he knew how cute he looked when he was tired, or how every little gesture of his was beautiful in its own way.

"I think we should launch a frontal assault," suddenly, his confident and resolute voice broke through your thoughts about him. His index finger moved at a specific area and your gaze followed his hand. An undeniable knot of worry coiled in the pit of your stomach. The location he had singled out was no ordinary point on the map; it was a fortified entrance, a bastion of enemy resistance that had withstood countless assaults. "We'll hit them hard and fast, overwhelm their defenses, and take the base in a matter of hours."

"That's a risky move," you interjected, your voice laden with skepticism, unsure about the feasibility of his plan. His illogical proposal took your sleep away in less than a second. "The Separatists have had time to fortify their position and they'll be expecting us. We could lose a lot of men if we charge in blindly."

"We're Jedi, not cowards. We can handle whatever they throw at us."

"But what if they have some kind of surprise waiting for us?" you countered, your own frustration growing as you watched Anakin's tired eyes roll in exasperation at your objections. His pretty, oh, so pretty eyes. "A trap? A minefield? A hidden weapon? We need to approach this mission with caution."

Anakin let out a long, drawn-out sigh, his brow furrowing deeply in annoyance. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a clear demonstration of displeasure. The weariness in his eyes was overshadowed by an unmistakable expression of disdain as he peered at you, a seemingly conviction that you, in that moment, were the dumbest living form in the entire vastness of the galaxy.

"Caution?" he exclaimed, the word escaping his lips like a bitter scoff. "We need to seize the initiative and strike while the iron is hot. Our troops are ready, and the time is right."

Exhaustion was mounting, and you could feel a dull ache pulsing through your temples. Instinctively, you rubbed your forehead in a futile attempt to alleviate the fatigue that threatened to cloud your judgment. A silent plea to the gods or the Force itself crossed your mind, a pray to grant you the patience and wisdom necessary to navigate the turbulent sea of Anakin's unwavering determination.

He's so stubborn.

It was legendary, he could be as immovable as a mountain. His obstinacy resembled a deep-rooted tree, firmly entrenched in his convictions, rendering it nearly impossible to sway or alter. You had long known this about the man you loved the most, and you were aware of how difficult it could be to change his mind once he was set on something. This quality of his, simultaneously admirable and frustrating, had been witnessed by everyone on numerous occasions.

And now it was putting the mission at risk.

A pang of guilt struck you as you thought back on the many times you had given in to his plans or ideas to avoid a conflict that wears out your mind and heart. You knew deep down that it wasn't worth it, that sometimes it was easier to concede than to argue. But today, now, this case was different. This time, the stakes were higher, you couldn't let him put your troops in unnecessary danger just because you wanted to avoid an argument. Your decisions could make or break the success of the mission.

"I'm not saying we should be cowards, Anakin. I'm saying we should be smart. We need to think about the bigger picture here," you stated calmly, trying to reason with him, leaning forward in your seat to trace your finger along the terrain as you spoke. "We can send in a smaller team to gather intel. Then, based on what they find, we can make the best decision about how to proceed. We need to minimize our losses and maximize our chances of success."

Anakin's intense gaze held yours, and you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely considering your suggestion. His eyes seemed to search yours for a moment, as if weighing the options and possibilities. But, as quickly as that flicker of possibility had arisen, it was snuffed out by the curve of his lips, which seemed to twist into a disapproving sneer.

"I appreciate your input, Y/N," he replied, polite but tinged with a dismissive tone. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he caused a few strands to fall gracefully back into place. That gesture would have normally made your heart flutter, however, the gravity of the situation kept you firmly grounded. "But I know what needs to be done. We're going with my plan," he concluded like a definitive statement, standing up from his seat with a data-pad in his hands, approaching the droid that was holding other maps for you. "R2, come here. Help me with something."

Unacceptable.

You sat there for a moment, stunned and speechless, trying to process what had just happened. Had he truly made the final call without giving a second thought to your perspective? Just like that? Was he so convinced of his own rightness that he was willing to dismiss your opinions entirely? The audacity of his actions ignited a gentle flame within you, a facet of your personality that lacked patience, the heat of your rage begin to rise in your chest as you watched him compare maps with the droid without any worry or disturb at his behavior. How dare he? You wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought of him and his I'm-always-right attitude. But at the same time, you knew that wouldn't solve anything.

Summoning all your willpower, you took a deep breath, clenching your teeth with fervor and mentally counted to ten, harnessing your emotions as you rose from your seat walked purposefully toward him.

You closed the distance, your gaze weighed heavily upon the back of his neck, a penetrating stare filled with a mix of intensity and silent reproach. It pierced through his consciousness, momentarily causing a flicker of confusion to ripple across his features, drawing his attention to your presence. However, after a fleeting moment of acknowledgment, he redirected his focus back to the droid, continuing with his task, seemingly dismissing the impact of your unspoken message.

"You're not even willing to consider other options?" you questioned. The words hung in the air, suspended between you and Anakin. Yet, he stood unmoved. "You're just going to charge in blindly and hope for the best?"

"It's not blind," Anakin emitted a chuckle, dripping with sarcasm. He didn't even bother to face you, his voice carrying a hint of condescension. "It's a calculated risk."

"Anakin, we're supposed to be a team," you crossed your arms, your voice firm but tinged with a touch of pleading. "We should be working together on this."

"I am working with you. I just don't agree with your strategy," his annoyance was palpable as he finally set aside his data-pad, pivoting his well-built frame to face you, his gaze piercing with impatience. "You're too cautious, too hesitant. Your plan will only hold us back. I know what I'm doing."

His words stung like a slap in the face. You had always been willing to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good, but you knew that there was a difference between bravery and foolishness, a thin line you weren't willing to cross. Anakin, on the other hand, seemed to have a hard time distinguishing between the two.

"I'm holding us back?" you shot, incredulous. You didn't notice the way your voice was slowly rising. "You're the one who's being reckless and impulsive. As always," Anakin's narrowed eyes burned with indignant fury, his initial annoyance transforming into a smoldering anger that threatened to consume the room. You knew that your words had struck a nerve, even though they held a semblance of truth.

As the tension in the room thickened, the air heavy with unyielding wills, R2-D2 beeped urgently, his mechanical voice punctuating the air seeking to intervene. The astromech droid, more than just a resourceful companion, was a friend, his loyalty extended beyond mere service; he cared deeply for both of you, aware of the underlying, unspoken feelings that bound you together. Every subtle interaction was etched into his memory circuits, everything. From the stolen glances and telltale blushes provoked by compliments, from the extended hugs that lingered longer than necessary after arduous missions and the occasional brushes of hands. He longed for nothing more than to see you both happy and united, free from the burdens of conflict.

And he was determined to fulfill his longing, he was going to put an end to the argument, and maybe take advantage of the situation a little. A mischievous thought flitted through his mechanical mind: Did the two of you know about his favorite game?

"Not now, R2," Anakin snapped, caught up in the heat of the moment, waving the droid away. "I am the problem now? You're the one who's being selfish, thinking only of your own safety and not the mission at hand."

"That's not true. I care about the mission, and I care about our troops. I just don't want to see them die needlessly because of a hasty decision," a mocking and arrogant smile stretched across his face.

"You don't have the guts to make the tough calls, do you?"

The way you gasped.

Even R2 seemed taken aback, emitting an surprised beep that mirrored the incredulity you felt. For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, your jaw hanging open in a mix of astonishment and anger. Then, your throat let out a bubbling laughter of disbelief. It was a reflexive response, a visceral reaction to the absurdity of his accusations, a release of the pent-up frustration that had been building inside you.

"Oh, you don't want to do this," you managed to choke, a sense of warning in your laughs. Anakin's expression shifted, his defiance growing even stronger as he raised his chin, a challenging sparkle in his eyes. His audacious stance seemed to say that he was ready to engage in this verbal duel, if you weren't fighting already, unafraid of the consequences. It was a side of him you had seen before. That stubborn, headstrong Jedi Knight loved pushing boundaries.

"Maybe I do."

Fearing the situation could deteriorate further, R2-D2 acted with a subtle nudge against Anakin's legs, a gentle insistence in his movements as he sought to capture the Jedi's attention, his beeps growing more insistent. Anakin, vexed by the interruption, cast a frustrated glance downward, emitting a groan of annoyance in response.

"R2! Can't you see we are talking? Wait a minute," he scolded, turning back to you with a scowl on his face.

"No, this is not a talk," you shocked your head angrily. What was happening between you and Anakin was far from a simple conversation. And yet, even as you felt your frustration rising, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude towards R2 for his attempts to defuse the situation.

"You started this," he accused. "You're always looking for an easy way out, a safe option. But that's not how wars are won. Sometimes you have to take risks, make sacrifices, and do what needs to be done."

"You think I was born yesterday? I perfectly know that. But I'm also not willing to throw away lives for the sake of a bold move," you gritted your teeth, unable to hold your tongue any longer. "If you can't see that, then maybe you're not the leader I thought you were."

Anakin's gaze met yours, and within his eyes, a flicker of surprise mingled with a tinge of remorse, shattering the facade of his unwavering confidence. You knew that your outburst had caught him off guard, but you also knew that it was necessary. You had stood up for yourself and demanded to be heard, and you were not going to allow anyone to dismiss your contributions again.

"What?" he spat, low and dangerous. You stood your ground, refusing to back down.

"You heard me."

"You're questioning my leadership now?"

"I'm questioning your judgment," you declared. "And I won't stand by and let you put our troops in unnecessary danger. I'm not being coward, I'm just following the Jedi Code. You should try it sometime."

Before Anakin could formulate a response, a sudden force propelled him forward, jostling him from behind. R2-D2 had maneuvered into position, pushing Anakin until he stood mere inches from you, nose-to-nose. The unexpected proximity caused Anakin to stumble, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips and a flush of pink embarrassment danced across his cheeks. The notion of an almost-kiss left him and you momentarily breathless, his eyes evading your gaze as they instead fell upon his mechanical confidant. The droid's incessant beeping were playful now, and lively tiny jumps from side to side seemed to exude an air of amusement.

"Hey, watch it, you little scrap pile!" Anakin scolded the droid, his tone tinged with shame. The close proximity had nearly led to a secretly wanted but inadvertent intimacy. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't talk to him like that!" you chastised him. R2 had been trying to diffuse the situation, to ease the tension that had been building between you and Anakin. He just wanted to help.

Or at least that's what you thought.

"He's pushing me!"

"He's trying to say something!"

"No! He's just being annoying, just like you!"

"Annoying?!" a flicker of surprise appeared in your widened eyes, his choice of words making you laugh in disbelief. "Oh my god, Anakin!"

"What?! Nothing of this would have happened if you have just agreed with my plan in first place!" R2-D2 persisted in his efforts, he pushed Anakin from behind once again, yet this time the Jedi anticipated the droid's intentions, bracing himself against the opposing force. Turning his gaze toward his diminutive companion, his expression hardened with resolve. "R2, I swear to the Force, I am going to deactivate you if you don't stop this!"

"I did it because you're being arrogant and stubborn! You think you're better than everyone else, but you're not!"

"Oh! Yeah?!"

"Yeah! You're just a hothead who can't see past his own ego!"

"Don't you dare talk to me about ego!" he yelled back, his voice dripping with venom. "You're the one who can't stand not being in control! You're so afraid of failure that you're willing to sacrifice our chances of success just to cover your own ass!"

Despite Anakin's threats, R2-D2 remained undeterred in his mischievous intervention. With an assertive nudge, the droid propelled Anakin forward once again, causing him to lose his balance and cascade towards you. In a split second, Anakin's reflexes kicked in, his hands reaching out instinctively to catch you, his muscular and warm arms enveloping you protectively. With an agile twist of his body, he positioned himself in such a way that he took the brunt of the fall, ensuring your safety as you both tumbled to the ground.

With your head pressed against his chest, the rhythm of Anakin's rapid heartbeat reverberated in your ears, its intensity mirroring the emotions exploding within him, evident in the way his grip tightened around you even after the fall. In the midst of the unexpected entanglement of limbs and bodies, you found yourselves drawn together in a way that surpassed the boundaries of mere friendship. There was a tenderness to the way your bodies intertwined, as if they were seeking solace and connection by themselves.

You two were close. So close.

It was a different kind of embrace, surpassing the casual hugs you had shared in the past. The proximity allowed you to intimately perceive the essence of his physical presence, catching the distinct scent of his masculinity that lingered in the air. It was an alluring fragrance, an intoxicating essence that elicited a subtle flush of color upon your cheeks, betraying the effect he had on you.

Looking up into Anakin's eyes, you saw a mixture of concern and anger, his gaze fixed on you as he assessed your well-being. His cheeks flushed with a shade of crimson that only heightened his attractiveness, intensifying your own blush. Yet his focus remained on your safety. Only after confirming that you were unharmed did he shift his attention to the mischievous droid, his features contorted with frustration and irritation.

"You- Stupid droid!"

"R2," you whispered shyly, a hint of complaint in your voice as you attempted to extricate yourself from Anakin's anatomy. However, as you made your initial move to stand up, an unexpected force pulled you down, causing you to crash back onto his chest. With a perplexed glance downwards, you discovered that both of your zip belts had become inexplicably entangled, linking your bodies together in a amusingly awkward predicament.

You tried to suppress a nervous laugh, but it escaped you, and Anakin joined in. Fingers fumbled and intertwined, attempting to untangle the fabric that held you captive, but the more you struggled, the tighter the clip seemed to become. You could feel his muscles tense under your weight, and you were sure he could feel your trembling hands.

"I-I- Let me-"

"No, stay still. Let's- U-Uh-"

"No- Look, I can- A-Am-"

Just when you thought the moment couldn't become any more mortifying, R2-D2 intervened with a sudden burst of loud beeps, followed by the unmistakable melody of a romantic tune, causing both you and Anakin to freeze. The notes of the music hung in the air, creating a whimsical backdrop that seemed to amplify the fluttering shared between you and Anakin. Eyes widening in surprise, you turned to look at Anakin, his expression reflecting a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and a desire to vanish from sight.

"What the- R2, stop that!" Anakin's voice rang out, filled with flustered exasperation. The poor guy looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Stop it! N-Now!"

But R2-D2 seemed impervious to Anakin's distress, emitting an innocent beep while unabashedly continuing to serenade you both with melody, pleased with the romantic atmosphere he had created.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you burst into laughter, escaping in a series of happy chuckles that echoed through the room. The absurdity of the droid's musical interlude, combined with Anakin's priceless expression, proved too much to bear. Amidst your amusement, you glanced at Anakin, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you sought an explanation.

"What is he doing?" you asked, the laughter still dancing in your voice, your innocent curiosity blending seamlessly with the light-hearted mirth that sparkled in your eyes.

"I-I don't know!" his attempt at feigning ignorance crumbling as a genuine warmth began to radiate in his eyes. Deep down, he couldn't deny that R2-D2's intervention seemed too intentional to be mere chance. Perhaps the astromech droid had a mischievous streak and was playing cupid, aware of Anakin's hidden affections for you. He was going to figure it out later. "I- I swear, I don't know what's got into him. Maybe he's malfunctioning or s-something," Anakin's stammered words failed to conceal the knowing glimmer in his eyes, hinting at a secret he was not yet ready to reveal.

"It's funny," you confessed, a soft smile adorning your lips as your laughter subsided. The momentary disturb seemed to have brought you closer, the tangled belts serving as a whimsical metaphor for the complexities of your relationship. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" he repeated, genuine surprise mingling with tenderness in his voice. He paused in his attempts to untangle the belts, his gaze locked with yours. "I am not the one who almost got crushed. Are you okay?"

"But you got crushed! What are you talking about?" you playfully retorted, your laughter mingling with the harmonious melody surrounding you. With a gentle tilt of your head, you regarded him, your smile radiating warmth. "I'm okay," you assured him, your eyes conveying a profound sense of reassurance and fondness that melted any trace of anger inside of him.

For a suspended moment, the room transformed into a sanctuary of shared vulnerability. It was as if the world had faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you, entangled not only by belts but also by hidden desires and uncharted emotions. The air buzzed with an electric energy, anticipation radiating from every corner.

As your gaze remained in his, an rare language flowed between you, conveying a depth of understanding that transcended words. In that silent exchange, you detected a subtle shift in Anakin, a softness that belied his earlier brashness. His eyes held a tender gleam, and his touch carried a gentleness you hadn't witnessed until now. Could it be that he felt the same way about you that you did about him? Somehow?

"I'm sorry," his voice murmured, the words almost lost amidst the tender notes of the music. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just under a lot of pressure. We both are."

"I know, Ani, I know," you nodded, your voice filled with sincerity and compassion. "I'm sorry, too. I also didn't mean any word."

R2 emitted a contented series of beeps, seemingly delighted with the outcome of his meddling. Sensing the need for privacy, the droid swiftly departed, leaving the two of you alone. Anakin's brow furrowed in confusion, his attention momentarily diverted by the departing droid.

"Hey! Hey! Where are you going?!" he called out, a trace of annoyance lingering in his voice. Evidently, the source of the current situation was still fresh in his mind. "Come back here!"

And in that instant, you knew it was now or never.

When would an opportunity like this present itself again? When would your hearts be so unguarded, the connection so palpable? The urgency within you propelled you forward, overriding any fears or doubts. You realized that regardless of his response, you had to seize the moment, to convey your feelings through a single, fleeting act.

Unburdened by the need for reciprocation, overriding any fears of rejection or potential consequences, before Anakin managed to separate your belts, you leaned in impulsively and pressed a loving kiss upon his cheek.

And the galaxy reduced to the electrifying touch of your lips against his skin.

Though the contact had been brief, you sensed his unconscious inclination, the way he instinctively leaned his cheek closer to your lips as if seeking a lingering connection. It was a silent testament to the impact of that stolen moment, a fragile thread connecting your hearts in a way that mere words couldn't encapsulate. As you gingerly pulled away to witness his reaction, you almost screamed like a schoolgirl caught in the throes of a blossoming romance.

There he was.

His face, already flushed from earlier events, now sported a hue even deeper pink, near to red. His cheeks seemed to puff up slightly, a result of the endearing and slightly bewildered smile he struggled to conceal. His eyes blinked, almost in slow motion, as if he had just awakened from the most enchanting dream imaginable.

And it was only because you kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" he managed to utter, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if grappling to find words to articulate his whirlwind of emotions.

"Just because."

That was all he needed to hear.

Anakin's hands gently cradled your face, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body. You felt a rush of warmth spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your being, his thumbs caressed your skin tenderly as he drew you closer, closing the distance between your lips.

The moment your mouths met, time seemed to stand still. The world around faded away, leaving only the soft press of his lips against yours. It was a sweet sensation, filled with a blend of longing, desire, and a hint of uncertainty, as if he wanted to convey all his feelings through this single form of love.

As you melted into the kiss, surrendering to the magic of the moment, you could feel Anakin's grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly, his fingers intertwining with the strands of your hair. It was a gesture of both longing and possessiveness, a silent declaration of the emotions that had been building between you for so long, a confirmation that he was here, in this moment, fully present and committed to the love that bloomed between you.

It was better than you imagined. It was much better than he had imagined. It was just... perfect. Right. True.

But as with all things, the kiss eventually came to an end. Reluctantly, you and Anakin parted, breathless and dizzy, with lips tingling, both gasping for air.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice filled with awe. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I shouldn't have done that, either," you whispered. His eyes searched yours, seeking a hint of regret, remorse. But he didn't find it. Instead, he felt a pull towards you, a desire for more.

Anakin's stared at you, a silent beg in his eyelids for permission. Driven by an insatiable longing, you leaned in once again, your lips seeking his with urgency and surrender. Time seemed to stand still as your souls intertwined, and just as the kiss was taking the path you wanted, you remembered how it was that you ended up in this precise moment.

The mission.

You kindly pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, your foreheads gently met. The world slowly seeped back into focus, but the imprint of that stolen kiss remained etched upon your very being.

"We should get back to planning," you said, trying to sound practical and composed. Anakin let out a childish complaint, his touch lingering on your cheek for a short moment before reluctantly withdrawing.

"Yeah, we should," he sighed. As much as he wanted to continue kissing you, he knew that you had a mission to focus on. "I'll give you this one. We'll send in a small team to gather intel tomorrow. But I'm telling you, we're going to need to be aggressive if we want to win this."

"Aggressive, yes. Reckless, no."

Anakin's expression softened, and he nodded in agreement. You offered a warm smile in response, wanting to rise from your position on the ground. But before you could, you were pushed back down by the entangled belts, causing your body to collide once again with Anakin's chest. You groaned in frustration, feeling a bit embarrassed for forgetting about the belts in the heat of the moment. Anakin, however, laughed heartily at your clumsy attempt and pulled you close to him, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around you.

"I don't think I mind being stuck like this for a little longer."

you like it? i hope so! thanks sooooo much for reading /kiss kiss ♡︎♥︎.

꒰ ིྀ any spelling mistakes will be corrected soon !ㅤׄ ₊ ᵎᵎ 🪐

materialist pinned on my profile !

gosh these days im so in love with charles xavier