This One Is So Beautiful And Perfect 😍😍💖💖
This one is so beautiful and perfect 😍😍💖💖
Faultless - Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader
WC: 7.5k / navi / preview
Summary: After a car accident leaves you with a painful concussion, Hotch volunteers to be your live-in nurse so that you don't have to stay at the hospital. He's hellbent on spending the weekend doting on you, drowning in guilt because of the accident and your subsequent injury, but you're hellbent on spending the weekend getting him out of his bad mood.
Contents/Warnings: typical cm case mentions, slight gore/mentions of injuries, reader has a concussion, hotch is sad :((
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
“Easy,” Aaron muttered, his breath short from lugging your bags up the stairs while supporting you under one arm, “Don’t trip.”
You felt around the doorframe with your foot, making a point of stepping over the wooden board on the floor and crossing the threshold into your apartment. You had been exhausted before having to climb up thirteen flights of stairs, and you were going to complain for a very long time about the elevator being out of service on the one day you needed it the most.
You felt around blindly for your couch, gently tugging yourself out of Aaron’s grasp to sit down on the padded cushions. You could feel him still hovering over you, the concerned frown that had been settled on his lips all day probably still in place, but you couldn’t muster up enough professionality to open your eyes, to pretend like your head wasn’t splitting itself open from the inside out.
Your throbbing headache was the result of a rather concerning concussion, one that you’d acquired from your head hitting the dashboard after an unsub had rammed their vehicle into your own. You had been in the passenger’s seat, and thankfully the van had hit you by spinning out and sliding into your bumper instead of t-boning you. You were certain you’d be dead if he’d hit anywhere else.
You wanted to say that you escaped unscathed, but you hadn’t. Aaron’s hand hadn’t quite shot out fast enough to cover your chest and keep you pressed against the seat, instead it had brushed against your shoulder as you lurched forwards in your seat, your skull slamming into the dashboard.
The medics had said it was only the locking of your seatbelt that had kept you alive. If it hadn’t given what little restraint it could offer (subsequently burning a line into your neck from where it slashed across your skin), you’d have shot completely forward, probably catapulting through the dashboard and dying before you hit the ground.
You’d never been more thankful for seatbelts.
You heard your bag being set down beside the sofa, then the soft click of your door being shut. Hotch was light on his feet as he trekked back through your apartment to stand beside the couch, not wanting to make your headache worse by storming around.
You heard rustling from beside your head, and you blearily peeled open your eyes to look for Hotch. He was much closer than you’d expected, kneeling on the carpet beside you, one of his hands reaching for the bandage on your forehead while the other held a new, fresh one.
“I need to replace this,” He tapped lightly against the end of the bandage, “You bled through it.”
You groaned at the harsh lighting above you, but knew that he needed it to rebandage your cut, so you nodded. You let your eyes drift shut again, only wincing momentarily as Hotch peeled the blood-soaked bandage from your wound and began tending to it.
You were somewhat surprised at how attentive Aaron was being. He had been kind to you since day one, letting you know that the rumors you’d probably heard about him from the rest of the team were just jokes, that he didn’t bite, and wouldn’t rip your head off. He’d apparently noticed your reluctance to relax around him, and wanted to ensure that you weren’t scared off by his reputation. You quickly learned that there were truths in both sides of the story, that he frowned far too often for his own good, but that he was a softie at heart.
You supposed that he had volunteered to take care of you after the crash for three reasons.
One being that he had been driving when you’d gotten into the impromptu accident. Of course, it hadn’t been his fault, the situation was out-of-control. But he often blamed himself for any casualties that happened on-site, simply because he was the Unit Chief. It meant that he was often plagued with guilt over situations that didn’t even concern him, and you’d have to be sure to comfort him later about it.
Two being that you were rather young for an agent. You had joined the team far earlier in your career than almost anyone else had, (save for Reid, of course), so you were, regrettably, babied. Sometimes it was more subtle and caring, like Prentiss remembering to pack your favorite snacks in her bag just in case you didn’t bring any. Or how Derek was always quick to offer up his windbreaker when you were outside without a jacket. But most of the time it was teasing, the way an older sibling would mock the younger one.
When it was mockery, it usually consisted of playful shoves in the elevator, aggressive pinches to the cheeks, and constant mentions of you being half their ages or more. You were never discredited as a team member because of your age, but everyone was always jumping at the chance to remind you that you were young enough to be Rossi’s child.
That particular joke hadn’t gone over well with Rossi, either.
Then the third reason, similar to the second, you were their newest agent. Your age and your time at the BAU were significantly shorter than anyone else’s, and while one again, no one ever thought you incapable, you noticed that everyone had a tendency to watch over you a little more than they did anyone else.
Especially Hotch. You’d thought yourself delusional the first time you realized that he seemed to hover over you, side-stepping in front of you in potentially dangerous situations and sending medics to you before anyone else. But you’d come to accept that he was especially doting, even if he’d never admit it through the surly frown on his face.
This was extremely evident now. The unsub had died in the crash, a suicide committed so that he wouldn’t have to face years in prison. That left you and Hotch as the only surviving victims, and he’d pulled his seatbelt right out of the wall trying to get out of the car and around to help you.
--
“Y/L/N,” He shook your shoulders urgently, “Y/L/N, wake up!”
Your head was throbbing, your throat dry from screaming, and your neck burning from the scratch of the seatbelt. You wanted so desperately to let yourself go, to succumb to the comfortable darkness that threatened to envelop you whole, but the full-blown panic in Hotch’s voice stopped you. You’d never heard it that frantic before, and you used almost all of your strength to peel your eyes open, your head pounding at the sunlight.
“I need an ambulance,” He shouted into his earpiece, the sound only making your headache worse, “We have a federal agent down!”
“Don’t close your eyes.” He urged, his panic-riddled gaze flitting over your bloodied face. He held your head up, your neck too fatigued to support it, “Look at- dammit, look at me, Y/N, don’t close your eyes!”
You tried saying something, anything, but your chest was heavy and your mouth wouldn’t open. You saw the anxiety in his eyes, you wanted to reassure him that you’d keep your eyes open, that you’d pull through for him, but nothing came out. Instead, you studied his face, your eyes grazing over every stunning feature it displayed. His nose, ever-so-slightly crooked, was divided in half by an angry red gash. His eyebrow was slit similarly, a red ooze trickling down his cheek. His lips, always held in that intimidating frown of his, were trembling slightly, his teeth digging into the backs of them to hold in a sob. His hair was caked with sweat and blood, a crimson trail making its way down his temple, but you knew he’d be okay.
He watched you watch him, his panic dwindling each time you blinked and your eyes reopened. The moment between you two was serene in a morbid way, both aware of the other’s near-death and both relishing in the other’s life. His own breathing was shaky, nearly shakier than yours, but he grounded himself with one hand on your cheek, the other behind your head and supporting your neck.
Sirens sounded throughout the wooded road, and the next unsteady sigh that came out of your mouth was one of relief. Hotch reluctantly looked away from your face, tracking the van that screeched to a halt in front of the crash site and rushed over to you both.
Hotch had helped load you onto the stretcher that they prepared for you, his hand never leaving your cheek as the other slipped around your waist. You stared blankly up at whatever happened to be in front of your face, but as you were loaded into the ambulance, your eyes lingered on Hotch’s bloodied form, standing outside and craning his neck to watch you be hauled into the back of the ambulance.
A medic began asking him what hurt, what possible injuries he might have, and if he could remember any part of his body getting hit specifically. But he didn’t answer while the doors were still open on you, only looking away when they shut in his face, obscuring his view of you.
--
You were honestly jealous that he’d escaped in such great condition. All he had to show for the accident was a sprained wrist and a few cuts, and your brain had been slammed into your skull.
You were jealous, but not resentful. You were glad that he hadn’t gotten injured further, especially because it meant that he was cleared to take care of you. The rest of your team had all volunteered, even Rossi stepping up to offer his nursing services. But Hotch had insisted, a self-loathing glint in his eyes as he told you he’d make sure you were alright over the weekend.
And as he kneeled beside your head on the couch, his tongue pinched between his lips in intense concentration as he rebandaged one of your cuts, you knew he would deliver on his promise. You just wished he wasn’t doing it out of guilt.
“That should last for a few hours.” Aaron smoothed the bandage onto your skin, his voice as low as humanly possible so as not to aggravate your headache further, “We’ll change them again after dinner.”
You let out a soft groan, raising one hand to cover your eyes, “I forgot about dinner.”
“You don’t have to eat if you’re not up for it.” Hotch used your coffee table for support as he stood.
“No, no,” You shook your head slightly, moving as little as humanly possible while doing so, “I meant, like, I don’t have anything here that we could eat. My fridge is empty.”
“It’s fine.” His hand came to rest on your shoulder for a second, a reassuring gesture because you couldn’t see his face, “We can order pizza.”
“Pizza,” You nodded hazily, “Yeah, pizza sounds good. I’ve got cash in the drawer,” You motioned vaguely to your kitchen, knowing full well you hadn’t been specific enough for him to locate it, “I’ll call later and we can-”
“Y/N,” Aaron interrupted you gently, “Don’t worry about that now. You need to take your painkillers, and the doctor said they’d make you drowsy. Why don’t you take them now, and you can nap until dinner?”
“But- but it’s already nine,” You protested weakly, “It’s too late for me to nap.”
“These are not normal circumstances,” You felt the couch dip by your feet, and you bent your legs, your calves pressed flush to your thighs, “You nap whenever you feel tired.”
“Are you hungry?” You peeked one eye open, wanting to see any hidden information he might have withheld from you otherwise.
“No,” He shook his head, and from what you could see of him, he looked truthful, “I can wait.”
You let your eye slip shut again, nodding once, “Okay. Where are the pills?”
They were harder to swallow than you thought they’d be, large and grainy and awkwardly-shaped. Aaron had to support the back of your neck while you sipped, and his other hand supported the water glass from the bottom, your hands too shaky to ensure a safe drink.
The water was heavenly, though, and you regretted not asking for some earlier. Your throat, dry and cracked from screaming during the accident, was soothed quickly by the icy liquid, and you finished the entire glass in only a few big sips.
“I can get you more, if you want?” Aaron’s voice came from directly beside you, and you shook your head lightly, slumping back down onto the pillows.
“No thanks,” You breathed, “I just want to nap.”
You felt a hand on your thigh, pressed close to your knee in a reassuring pat. Then a blanket was draped over you, most likely the fuzzy blue one that laid on the arm of your couch.
“Sleep for as long as you need,” Aaron’s final words to you sent a thrum of endearment up your spine that blossomed in your chest, “I’ll stay right here with you.”
Aaron fought the urge to reach out once more, letting his hand take up permanent residence on your leg. The gesture had been comforting, of course, but he couldn’t deny that it had felt cozy, natural even. He had never been one to get lost in his fantasies, but the single touch had him imagining all of the other blissfully domestic scenarios in which he could replicate it.
You’d be watching a scary movie, your brows furrowed in anxiety. You’d flinch at a jumpscare, tighten your hold on his arm, and he’d shift his hand over to your thigh, squeezing it gently in reassurance.
Or you’d be on the jet after a long case, your head slumped onto his shoulder. He’d rest his hand on your thigh, a soft but intimate gesture, so that you knew you could relax.
Or he’d be laying beside you in bed, his head on the pillow as your back rested against the headboard. He’d reach up and squeeze your thigh softly, compelling you to set down your book and finally lay down to sleep beside him.
His breath hitched and shame burned at his cheeks when he realized that he’d just let himself get lost fantasizing about being in bed beside his coworker. You were recovering from a concussion, one that he blamed himself for, and he was having delusions of married life with you.
He stood from the couch abruptly, shaking his head slightly at his unprofessional behavior. Your little apartment was stuffy from being closed up for five days straight, and he set off towards the windows, keeping the shades pulled for your head’s sake but slipping the windows open underneath. Fresh air rushed into the room and he breathed it in desperately, as if it would purge him of his delusions.
He shut his eyes momentarily, exhaustion gripping at him but panic keeping him awake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the way he felt when your head had hit the dashboard.
He had reached out as soon as he’d seen it coming, desperately trying to catch you before you could get hurt. But he hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t been enough. You had slammed face first into the dashboard, a blood-curdling scream torn from your throat as your nose cracked. It was still crooked, swollen and bloody, but Aaron had just replaced the bandage over its bridge, and you’d mentioned that there was ice in the freezer if the swelling didn’t go down.
None of his own injuries were on his mind as he replayed the accident, the sinking hole in his chest as he’d watched you hit your head. You’d crumbled against the dashboard on impact, and he swore he’d never felt as much raw panic as he had in that moment. Being unable to get to you for those few short seconds had been agonizing, and he’d do anything to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.
Once he’d finally gotten to you it was like it wasn’t real. He was holding you, you were looking at him, he was looking at you, but it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel real that you were injured, and at the same time, it didn’t feel real that you weren’t dead. Nothing about the scenario felt real, and he’d stood there in paralyzing panic as he waited for the ambulance.
He’d been a wreck on the ride back. They hadn’t let him into your ambulance, and he’d kept eye contact with you until he couldn’t see you anymore, the doors shutting on your near-lifeless frame.
He hadn’t even accepted his own hospital room, forcing Reid to give the doctors one of his infamous ‘second opinions’ so that he could deny treatment and reach you faster. He was almost certain that the young doctor had only done so out of fear of losing his job, because the intensity that he knew had been present in his gaze at the time scared Reid.
As soon as the doctors had let him go, reluctantly so, he’d taken up a chair by your bedside, waiting restlessly for you to wake.
He turned back to your sleeping form on the couch, ready to go and sit down again. He wanted to sleep too, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to, so he settled for the idea of sitting beside you, staring into oblivion while you slept. It was the most rest he was going to get for a few days, if his guilt never died down.
He realized that you’d shifted in your sleep, your feet now stretched out to the other couch cushion, the one he’d been sitting on. He started for one of your chairs, stopping before he could lower himself into one, and glancing back at you.
He needed to be with you.
Holding your drained, near-lifeless body had been terrifying. He had felt your breathing shallow, had seen your eyes struggle to open, had watched the life dim in your eyes. Sitting across the room from you at that moment seemed like his personal hell, his fingers itched to feel the warmth of your skin and his ears longed to hear your calm, even breaths.
He padded to the couch, reaching carefully for your feet. He slid his hands under your ankles, lifting them off of the cushions and turning, sinking down onto the couch and resting your feet in his lap.
It felt perfect, he could feel you, he could see you, he could hear you, but it felt wrong. It felt intimate, just like his hand on your thigh had. He lectured himself once more on not being delusional, his brain already cooking another domestic vision up before he could stop it. He kept his eye on you, his cheek resting against the back of the couch as his eyes drooped. Your chest rose and fell steadily, your eyes shut snugly, the bandage on your forehead no longer soaking up fresh blood. Your injuries were starting to heal, and Hotch took solace in the fact that you wouldn’t be plagued by your cuts anymore.
But your concussion, that would last. He knew that you’d be okay, it hadn’t been fatal, but you were going to suffer for a while. Guilt and despair once again stabbed at his chest as he thought about what it would be like if he had just caught you, if he’d reached over a split second sooner.
--
The painkillers that the doctor had prescribed you hadn’t fixed everything, but they had dulled your headache. It was a soft pounding now, instead of the raging fire that had burned behind your eyes. You blinked them open hazily, squinting around the darkened apartment and shifting to do so. Your feet hit something solid, and you felt it move beneath them. You peered at the other end of the couch, seeing your feet stretched out over Hotch’s lap as he dozed.
His face was set in a deep frown, worse than the one that normally adorned his features, as one of his hands laid over your ankles. You had assumed that in sleep, Aaron would relax, but it seemed as if he was even more stressed than before.
You felt an instant pang of embarrassment, you must have shifted in your sleep to lay your legs over his lap. You chided yourself on probably making him uncomfortable, though you couldn’t deny the butterflies that flitted around your stomach at the feeling of being so domestically intimate with him.
When he wasn’t barking orders at you, he was incredibly attractive. Actually, even when he was barking orders at you, he was incredibly attractive. You’d tried to suppress your feelings towards him, especially because he wasn’t just your coworker, but your boss, and you thought you had succeeded. Sure, the feeling of his hand on your cheek had been nice, the rampant concern in his eyes after the crash had been endearing, but you knew you had to settle for just being friends.
Your stomach grumbled, as if on cue after you’d just woken up, and you tugged your feet out of Aaron’s lap, sitting up cautiously against the arm of the couch. He didn’t seem to notice, although his unconscious frown deepened when his hand fell to his lap, and you grabbed your phone, ordering pizza for the both of you. You were happy that you remembered his favorite type of pizza from an impromptu late night at the office a while back, or you’d have had to wake him, and you wanted him to get all of the rest that he could. The delivery said it would be there in 20 minutes, and you used that time to get yourself another glass of water. It was a simple task, and your nap had apparently returned some of your basic capabilities, but you couldn’t deny that Aaron helping you drink had been better than drinking alone. The bottom of the glass was cold on your fingers, and you wistfully wanted his hand to be there instead.
You stood leaning against your kitchen cabinets, the living room behind a partition wall that shielded the couch from your view. Your apartment suddenly felt empty, and even though you knew Hotch was just sitting on your couch, you felt alone.
You weren’t sure how this would affect your feelings towards him. He’d already been so caring, so attentive towards you, and it was pushing you closer and closer towards a dangerous territory that you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from. You’d stayed sane by keeping a healthy distance between you, engaging in casual conversation or trading jokes, but pointedly avoiding sitting beside him in tight spaces or taking his jacket when he offered. Now that boundary was gone, and he was sleeping on your couch, your feet having been draped across his lap only minutes ago.
You were too lost in thought to hear the shuffling from your living room, but you were alerted to Aaron’s consciousness when he came rushing into the kitchen, eyes blown wide in panic before they settled on you.
“Y/N,” He breathed, his shoulders heaving as he let out a sigh of relief, “I thought- god, you were just gone, and I panicked.” He slumped forwards against the counter, blinking sleepily as he tried calming his pounding heart.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” You set your glass down, leaning over to set a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He nodded, rubbing an exasperated hand over his face and hissing in pain when it irritated one of his barely-healing cuts.
Blood began blossoming along the tear in his skin once more, and you tutted, pulling his hand away from his face.
“You’re bleeding.” You reached for the bag of bandages that he’d set conveniently on the counter after patching you up, wetting a cotton ball with the disinfectant that sat beside it.
“You don’t have to-” He began, waving you off while prodding gently at his cut, but you cut him off, once again tugging his hand away from his cut.
“Just let me take care of it,” You barely caught yourself before saying ‘you’, deciding that ‘it’ was far less intimate. Your cheeks flared anyways, though, the knowledge that you’d almost slipped up haunting you as you cleaned up his cut.
The cut was on the apple of his cheek, just below his eye. Your thumb rested against the dark circle above it, the pliant skin flushed under your finger. You made a mental note to be sure he slept well this weekend, even if it would be on your couch for lack of a spare room. You felt his eyes on you as you cleaned up his cut, but pointedly avoided looking at him so as not to give yourself and your feelings away.
You weren’t sure if you’d survive gazing into his concerned eyes only inches away from his face.
You discarded the soiled cotton ball, your fingers slightly moistened by the chemical. The bandage crinkled beneath your fingers as you peeled the waxy paper from it, smoothly spreading the cloth over Aaron’s wound.
You left a soft tap on the pad of the bandage once you were finished, moving away to get yourself out of the potentially awkward situation as fast as possible. But you felt resistance, your eyes widening as you realized that Aaron’s hand was cupping the back of your neck.
You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him placing it there, but the suggestive warmth that it brought you had your concussion and the car accident wiped completely from your mind.
All that was there now was Aaron, his dark eyes staring intensely into your own as he tugged you closer so that your noses were brushing. He seemed just as transfixed as you were, barely breathing as he drank you in. The short, soft breaths that he was taking were fanning gently across your face, grounding you even more in his presence.
“Hotch,” You murmured, not wanting to shatter the serene silence with your voice, “We can’t.”
You wished you kissed him. You wished that you’d shut your mouth, pressed it to his, and moved on with your day. You wished you hadn’t said that, hadn’t prompted him to ask ‘Why not?’
“Because,” You breathed, your voice shaky as he leaned imperceptibly closer to you, “We have to-”
The sound of the buzzer to your apartment interrupted your moment, the atmosphere shattering at the harsh sound, ‘Delivery!’
“-go get the pizza! We have to go get the pizza.” You slipped your head out from under his hand, rushing for the door and leaving him standing over the kitchen counter.
You answered the door with shaking hands, nearly handing the pizza man a $50 instead of a $20 for your $15 order.
Aaron slumped against the counter with a heavy sigh.
He hadn’t meant to lose what little control he still possessed after the accident. He supposed that the shock and terror at nearly losing you made him want to ensure that he never lost you without telling you how he felt. But that didn’t excuse his actions, or the mortified exit that you’d made as soon as you’d gotten the chance. Clearly, he’d made you uncomfortable.
You brought the pizza back to the kitchen nearly in tears, terrified at possibly never getting the chance to kiss him again. You’d wanted to, you’d even brushed away any fear of losing your job out of desperation to reciprocate, but you’d panicked. You had panicked because what if it wasn’t good? What if he didn’t like it? What if it was a spur-of-the-moment that he’d regret later, and you’d be the one he kissed out of pity just because you’d almost died? You knew that both of you were high-strung, emotions running strong, and you were sure that it was the only reason he’d tried to kiss you. You wouldn’t let yourself believe that he had even an ounce of feelings for you, not the same way you had them for him. You wouldn’t let yourself enjoy temporary happiness if it meant that ever-lasting heartbreak would follow.
“Y/N,” Aaron spoke as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, “I’m so-”
“Do you want one slice, or two?” You cut him off, standing as tall and confidently as possible with the boxes in your hands.
Aaron stilled, stiffening slightly against the counter, “What?”
“One slice,” You swallowed what little saliva was in your mouth, “Or two?”
He stared at you silently for a moment, his discerning gaze picking you apart. Finally, his shoulder slumped, his face falling as he muttered, “One.”
--
The meds that you needed to take before eating were a hassle. This time it was a liquid prescription, and Hotch provided the medicine cup that you needed to measure it out with. It tasted bitter and grainy, and you quickly shoved pizza in your mouth to mask the aftertaste.
“These are supposed to knock you out,” He squinted at the fine print on the bottle, hovering over you much less since your run-in in the kitchen, “It says you might be kind of out of it for the night.”
You nodded silently, keeping yourself as far away from him on the couch as possible. You knew he was watching you shy away from him, and you tried not to look at the expression on his face, whatever it was, because you didn’t want to see it.
If it was disappointment, you didn’t want to see it because then he’d be disappointed in you. If it was anger, you didn’t want to see it because then he’d be angry with you. But if you ignored it, if you never saw it, then it wouldn’t exist.
You ate your pizza in silence for a terrible, awkward, stifling few moments, during which you shoveled as much into your mouth as possible so that you wouldn’t have to speak. Finally, though, Aaron finished his slice, and opened his mouth, this time not to put pizza inside.
“Y/N, I really think we should-”
“Do you want to watch tv?”
“Y/N, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but-”
You had reached for the remote without letting him finish, clicking on the television and turning the volume up.
“Y/N,” Aaron spoke, his voice softer and more meek than you’d ever heard it before, “Please.”
You felt a hot wave of tears brimming at your eyes, and panickedly tried to blink them away, dread tugging your stomach down. The last thing you wanted to do was confess, but your medication was inhibiting your filter and making you more emotional.
“I’m sorry,” You blubbered, “I wanted to kiss you!”
You set your empty plate on the coffee table in front of you, the ceramic thunking against the wood, “I really wanted to kiss you!”
Aaron watched you slump forwards, your face in your hands as you sobbed.
“Hey,” He reached out, setting his own plate on the table, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry, come here, Y/N.”
He slid his hands around your waist, tugging you upright and back onto the couch. He expected you to curl up against the other arm of the couch again, hellbent on getting away from him, but you fell into his lap, your face pressed against the material of his pants.
He brushed a cautious, gentle hand over your back, the other hovering awkwardly by your face. He couldn’t really see it, not most of it, anyways. Your flushed, tear-stained cheek was all that he could see as you sobbed into his lap, and he reached forwards, brushing a stray tear off of your skin.
“Don’t cry,” He repeated, his voice low, and soft, and soothing, “Y/N, it’s okay, don’t cry.”
“It’s not okay!” You gushed, rising from his lap as a steady stream of tears dripped off of your cheeks, “I feel gross, and you’re helping me, and- and you’re so sweet and I’m tired, and you’re so warm, and soft and I wanted to kiss you so badly but I- I got scared and now- now everything is messed up!”
“Shh,” Aaron cut off your ramblings by pressing his broad thumb to your lips, the rest of his hand cupping your cheek comfortingly, “It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up, everything is okay.”
“It’s not!” You repeated, “I’m never gonna get to kiss you again, and I ran away! I ran away, god, I’m so stupid!”
“You’re not stupid.” Aaron fought back the smile that threatened to take over his face, upset at the distress on yours but elated to hear that you’d wanted to reciprocate, “I promise you I’m not upset, and- um, if you’d like the chance again later, maybe we can consider kissing again.”
“Do you mean that?” You hiccupped pitifully, a sniffle following it.
“I do,” He promised, half hoping that you wouldn’t remember the embarrassing promise he’d just made to you in the morning, and half hoping that it would be the first thing you asked for when you woke up, “I promise.”
You smiled weakly at his reassurance, blinking drowsily as your medication ran rampant. He continued rubbing your back, though his hand fell from your cheek when you spoke.
“I’m tired.”
He couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle, nodding reassuringly, “I thought you would be. Why don’t you lay down, you can sleep for the night and then tomorrow we can- oh.”
Without a second thought, you’d slumped over onto his shoulder, your arms wrapped around one of his own as you clung to his arm. In your hazy, post-cry daze, you pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, the material of his quarter-zip soft against your lips.
“I love you, Aaron.” You mumbled, your voice still wobbly from your tear-fest.
The admission struck him with the most comforting sense of shock, one that made a smile burst over his face. You shut your eyes without even waiting for him to respond, your legs tucked neatly underneath yourself as you designated him your pillow for the evening.
He knew you wouldn’t hear him, and even if you did, you wouldn’t comprehend what he was saying. But he said it anyways, leaning his head against your own and murmuring a soft, “I love you too, Y/N.” as you snoozed.
Aaron watched your chest rise and fall slowly and evenly, relieved that you were sleeping peacefully. He knew full well that you'd have a splitting headache for far too long, and was happy to see you get some temporary relief.
The dramatic reality show that you'd insisted on drowning him out with was still playing softly in the background, eerie music choices and startling sound effects amping up the ridiculousness of the surely-false story. Aaron reached for the remote that was in your hand, gently uncurling your fingers from around it. He set your hand back in your lap, but it found his once more, a soft whine coming from your throat as you shifted in your sleep.
Your head that had been slumped onto his shoulder fell forwards, your neck surely suffering at the awkward angle. He rushed to readjust you, but you followed the motion blindly, your head slumped into his lap. At first, your nose pressed against the zipper of his pants, and he panicked. Before he could adjust you, though, you turned over, nestling your cheek against his thigh facing the television instead. Your face relaxed from where it had been scrunched in unconscious concentration, a serene expression crossing it as you sighed contentedly.
Aaron thought it was the most adorable noise he'd ever heard. A soft smile threatened to break over his face after his panic, and for once, he let it. You weren't awake or coherent enough to see it, so why not? He smiled warmly, happily, adoringly at you as you slept in his lap. He reached for the blanket that had been folded on the arm of your couch, quickly shaking it out as best he could and draping it over your frame. You snuggled into it just as much as you had his thigh, and after a drawn-out moment of staring at you with a lovesick smile, Aaron let his head fall back against the cushions, his eyes slipping shut as he let sleep take him a happy man.
--
Waking up was warm. You blinked open your eyes, your gaze immediately landing on the plates that you hadn’t cleaned up from the night before. The pillow you were laying on was considerably comfier than any you knew were on your couch, and you rolled onto your back to see that it was, in fact, not a pillow, but your boss.
Aaron’s face was relaxed as he slept, a stark contrast to his crankiness during his first nap. Now he looked serene, happy even, as he leaned back against the back of the couch, his hand draped over your waist. You were sure that sleeping at that angle would prove difficult for him, so you slowly sat up, humming softly as he stirred.
“What…” He mumbled sleepily, squinting around at your apartment, “What time is it?”
“Really? That’s all I get?” You propped yourself with one arm, your hand pressed flat against his thigh, “You promised me a kiss, you know.”
His eyes widened, any leftover drowsiness instantly vanishing as he stared down at you.
“That is,” You started, uncertainty lacing your voice, “If you’re standing by your promise?”
“You want to?”
“I do.” You nodded, waiting eagerly as he blinked owlishly, his brain running at full speed.
“So do I.” Was all he said before he surged forwards, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was lazy, somewhat sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it was perfect, because it was with him. You hummed softly into the kiss, leaning forwards to rest your forehead against his own, bringing him closer to you.
You broke away after a few moments, keeping it short and sweet instead of dragging it out. You weren’t opposed to going further, not when it was Aaron you were with, but you were still concussed, and eager to rest. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, your nose nestled against the heated skin of his neck as he sighed contentedly, one hand coming to rest on your back.
“I can’t believe you remembered.” He mused, his voice slightly raspy from sleep.
“How could I forget?”
“I wasn’t sure if you meant it.” He added, “You were pretty drugged up.”
“I meant it.” You spoke softly, “I’ve meant it for a long time.”
“I’m glad,” Aaron admitted, “Me too.”
The silent serenity of the moment capture you both, and you nearly fell asleep again nuzzled into his neck. But your stomach grumbled, once more letting you know that it was time to eat, and Aaron chuckled softly at the sound.
“Breakfast?”
‘Breakfast sounds perfect.”
You moved out of his lap, your heart fluttering as he took your hand, tugging you up onto your feet and guiding you into the kitchen. The pizza box from the night before was still sitting on the counter, as were the medical supplies, but he pushed them aside, making room for your toaster.
“Anything on it?” He questioned, pulling two pieces of bread out from your loaf.
“Just butter.” You hummed sleepily, pulling said spread out from the refrigerator.
As soon as he emptied his hands, the slices of bread now toasting, you snuck up behind him, your arms winding around his waist. He stiffened in surprise, but melted at the embrace, turning so that your face was flush to his chest instead of his back.
“How’s your head?” He asked, punctuating his query by smoothing his hand over your scalp.
“It’s better,” You started, “Not completely, but the meds seem to be helping.
“That’s good.” He seemed to tense when you told him it wasn’t completely better, the popping of the toaster giving him an excuse to turn away.
“Aaron?” You pressed, standing beside him and watching him open the butter, “Is everything okay?”
“Your head still hurts.” He mentioned dismissively, “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because your head still hurts.” He deadpanned, waiting for you to prompt him further.
“Aaron,” You started, your voice hesitant, "You can't seriously blame yourself for that car accident." You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing the answer but wanting him to hear the words spoken aloud.
"I do." He had no trouble admitting it, avoiding your gaze as he buttered the slice of bread he'd just taken out of the toaster, "You knew he was going to swerve, you even told me."
"I guessed he was going to swerve," You reminded him, "I didn't know."
"Well I didn't listen, and he did, and he hit us, and now you have a concussion."
“Aaron, stop.” You set a hand over his, taking the knife from his grip and abandoning the toast he was doctoring, “Look at me.”
He followed your instructions, meeting your eyes hesitantly, hoping to not showcase the self-hatred swirling in his own.
“You had no possible way of verifying whether my guess was true or not. We were in the middle of a high-speed chase, what if you’d stopped to avoid a crash but he’d kept going? We would have lost him.”
“We did lose him.”
“But now he can’t hurt anyone anymore. He didn’t get away. If you’d stopped, he would have.”
“But your concussion-”
“Doesn’t matter to me. We got the guy, that’s what matters to me. I’m okay, I’m alive.” You gestured down your frame, as if showcasing your living, breathing body, “And you’re okay, you’re alive. Yeah, I’ve got a week-long headache in front of me, but it’s worth it to me to know that that guy is gone.”
“You got hurt, though. We got him, and I’m glad. I won’t deny that. But I can still be upset about you getting hurt.”
“So can I,” You agreed, “But don’t be mad at yourself. I’m not mad at you, why would you be?”
“I… I just-”
“You just have a habit of blaming yourself for things you had no control over. And I won’t let you do it now.”
You huffed lightly at the end of your sentence, and it seemed to bring him out of his hesitancy. He cracked a slight smile, “You won’t let me?”
“I won’t.” You doubled down, “You’re not allowed to.”
“Yes, sir.” He teased, turning back to the toast and laughing incredulously when you bumped your hips against his, sending him stumbling sideways as he was caught off-guard.
“You need better balance.” You grabbed the knife that had slipped from his hands as he’d stumbled, buttering your own toast while he stabilized himself, “That almost floored you.”
“I wasn’t ready for it.” He insisted, a hint of a whine slipping into his voice that you’d never heard before, “No fair.”
“Anything’s fair now,” You laughed, “I’m injured and you have to be nice to me.”
As soon as you were finished buttering your toast you plated it, slicing it in half up the middle. You headed for the living room, intent on turning the television on and eating with Aaron, but he took you by surprise, charging you from behind and wrapping one arm around your waist, the other taking your plate from your hands so that it didn’t fall.
You shrieked indignantly as you lost your balance, but his arms snaking around your waist stopped you from falling. He turned you around, and you heard his soft chuckles against your cheek as he scooped you into his arms, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. You stared down at him breathlessly, your mouth hanging slightly open in surprise.
“You need better balance,” He mocked you, “That almost floored you.”
“Aaron!” You repeated his earlier comment, a bashful laugh escaping your lips as he held you tightly against him, “No fair!”
His laugh, deep and loud and comforting, made happiness swell in your chest, not even dimming when he set you down. You grabbed your toast once more, hearing him pad after you until you got to the couch, sitting much closer to him than you’d elected to the previous night.
“I’m gonna tell Garcia that you terrorized me this weekend,” You mused, biting softly into the buttered toast with a crunch, then as an afterthought, “Oh my god, what are we gonna tell her? The team, they’re all gonna find out. What do we do?”
“Nothing for now.” Aaron reassured you, setting a hand on your thigh while you ate, a smile growing on his lips as he remembered fantasizing about doing just that the night before, “We don’t have to be their big scandal yet, for now, let’s just be us.”
tags: @sunflowermotel @wheelsupkels @honeybrowne @aaronhotchnersbbg07 @la-stuffs @jhiddles03 @criminalmindsandmarvel @anlin2058 @averyhotchner @ink-and-fables-4-u @curr3ntlycry1ng @simpingfortoomanypeople @toomanyfictionalboyfriends
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
More Posts from Xiscamoony and Others
That's so true
sometimes the love of your life is a 40 year old french man…
This one is perfect and sad. I need a part two!😢😢
i’ll be watching you (every step you take) — carlos sainz
pairing | carlos sainz x leclerc!reader
word count | 3.1k words
content warnings | forbidden romance, age gap (reader is 24, carlos is 30), lots of crying (on both ends), charles is not the best brother to reader, brief mentions of anxiety & depression, ANGST
authors note | this in no way is to put any negative light towards charles, it is merely fiction and no way depicts the friendship he has with carlos or his personality in general. so sad seeing carlos leave and writing this just made me even more sad so…beware if you can’t handle angst rn </3
navigation. | requests — open | main masterlist.
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THE FINAL RACE of the 2024 season was going to begin in just a few hours but all Carlos could think about was you. Only a few hours left to be around you and then you’d no longer be in his sight like you usually were every race week. He wasn’t thinking much of his last race with Ferrari, yes he was sad about it but it was you who was invading his thoughts.
You’d no longer be there to offer some words of wisdom when he had a bad week. You’d no longer be there with a cup of coffee and baked goodies to debrief with each other. Carlos would tell you all about the race and what was going on from his end and you’d tell him any gossip you heard around the paddock. The secret handshakes you had no longer would be there as he’d be in the Williams motorhome and you’d be in the Ferrari motorhome way up front; supporting your brother.
“Charlie, please just hear me out. I could make this work with him and it won’t interfere with—.”
“No! Absolutely not we agreed you’d never date any of my friends especially those on the grid. I don’t want you with him. Why are you telling me all this now?!” Your older brother Charles paces back and forth in your hotel room.
“I-I…I love him. Why can’t you be happy that I found someone who treats me right and will love me too? Don’t you want me to be happy?” Charles knew you loved Carlos he could see it since day one. You had stayed away from the limelight as he entered Formula one and went to study abroad in England until you quit school in 2020. You no longer wanted to be a doctor but decided to open your own cafe.
Your dream to be a doctor was to somehow level up on your siblings who were successful. But you didn’t want to spend your life in a career you didn’t love. Baking was your passion despite your brother thinking it was a silly hobby. Your Maman was happy with whatever you wanted and your twin Arthur supported you. So did Lorenzo, but it was Charles who never showed interest in your dreams despite being his biggest fan growing up. Once he got into Formula One the bond you had with him drifted away.
You didn’t attend his first race in Formula One and ever since then you only visited for Christmas in which Charles mostly ignored you. You never understood why he was so mean to you when he’d vowed to protect you when you lost your Father a few years ago. You were daddy’s girl and losing him caused you to close yourself off to ever let someone into your heart that wasn’t family.
After quitting school you took up an internship with Charles in managing his social media. He used this to his advantage to try and convince you opening your own cafe would be a mistake and you could do greater things. He begged for a year and you ended listening to him and taking up a full time position for the Ferrari social media team.
You wanted your brother to be happy, but when would it be your turn?
As you were involved setting up videos with the two teammates you began growing a close friendship with Carlos. A close friend to your brother and teammate but they definitely had their fair share of moments on the track that left you picking up the pieces. Carlos never showed the frustration or anger towards you. Instead he would invite you out to golf (better yet teach you since you were terrible golfer) or even invite you to Spain during the breaks so you could spend time together and with his family.
“Be happy with someone else. You can find anyone why my teammate?”
“He won’t be your teammate next—.”
“No! Don’t use that to somehow justify you two could work out. It won’t work out…not if you want to lose me.” His words hit you and snaps you out of any thoughts of Carlos you had going on.
“Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par là? (what do you mean by that?)” You question, your chest feeling heavy at what his response may be. Lose him? You can’t live without your brother in your life despite the distance you’ve had in the last few years. But getting a job in Ferrari has helped build that bond again.
With an unready expression from Charles he stares into your eyes almost trying to intimidate you, “Qu'est-ce qui compte le plus pour vous ? Amour ou famille? (What matters to you more? Love or Family?)” The question destroys any poker face you had and your lips tremble trying to keep calm.
“Ce n'est pas juste, Charles. La famille, c'est l'amour ! J'aime ma famille. (That's not fair, Charles. Family is love! I love my family.)” You try defending yourself from the question, or more so the threat he was making.
“D'accord, tu as raison, alors... Carlos ou moi? (Okay you are right so...Carlos or me?” The question was mean, Charles knew that becuase he knew what you would decide. You were a ride or die for your family even if they didn’t always do the same for you. You could never imagine choosing someone else other than your family but Carlos…you really love Carlos.
“Please, Charlie that’s not fair. Don’t do this to me please, please, please…Je l'aime. Il me rend heureux. Il est tout ce que j'ai toujours voulu. (I love him. He makes me happy. He's all I ever wanted.)” You were close to begging on your knees, hands pleading with your brother but he stands there with a stoic face despite his heart breaking to pieces he’s causing this pain to you.
“We can make you happy. Family can be enough. You choose us and we’ll make more of an effort…quit the social media job and open your cafe. I’ll help you open it up anything to make you happy. Carlos won’t be a stable person to be in a relationship with look at our schedules we have all year? Don’t you want something stable?” His words spit out so easily, like he’s had it rehearsed. He felt so conflicted saying all this because he respected Carlos, he loved him as a close friend. But he couldn’t risk losing his sister to anyone.
He had to protect her and being in a relationship with someone as busy as Carlos wouldn’t work. His relationships barely worked out so he knew firsthand. He was going to protect you like he had promised you when your Father had passed. He promised his father he’d step up and watch over you.
You sit on your bed staring down at the comforter in silence as Charles gives you a kiss on the head, “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow and you can tell me then what you decided. I love you, cherie.” He walks out of your room without another word.
See you tomorrow morning, hermosa. Everything will be okay. Te amo.
You read Carlos’ text and send a quick heart reaction before shutting your phone off and laying in your bed to deal with the decision you had to make. It was made already. The thing was how were you going to say it out loud? How do you tell someone you don’t choose them?
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Morning comes around you’ve barely slept at all throughout the night tossing and turning. Carlos is walking into your room with coffee and croissants ready to go over the day with each other. A routine you’ve had for two years now ever since this…relationship formed. You give your best smile as you let him talk about his final day with Ferrari whle you listen he could see something is off. As he nears the end of the conversation he sees you fiddle with your thumbs a force of habit you did when you were anxious.
As he finishes you both sit in comfortable silence and as the time goes by you bite your lip suppressing a sob aching to cry out. Carlos breaks the silence with a deflated sigh, “It’s Charles, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” You whisper before letting out a choked sob and he quickly pulls you onto his lap holding you as tight as possible. You tangle your arms around his neck letting yourself cry in his arms for what may be the last time. This would be the last time you feel him this close to you. This may be the last time you ever talk to each other.
As your breathing calms down your face lays on his chest listening to his heartbeat…each beat registering in your mind. His heart that he says beats for you now breaks with each beat, he knew it wouldn’t be him if you had to choose.
Carlos didn’t blame you, he knew you were a family girl. He knew you had a heart that bled for your family even if they didn’t appreciate you. You would do anything for your family especially Charles even if it meant costing your own happiness in the process. You were close to your twin Arthur but he’d been so busy with his own stuff and Lorenzo was older so you didn’t get to bond as much since he lived further away.
It was Charles who you held a close bond with, you looked up to him. He reminded you so much of your Father after he passed you were lost in your grief. Charles pulled you out of a dark hole you didn’t want to get out of but he made you fight. Your father made Charles promise to protect his younger siblings but especially you. You were tough and could protect yourself but you were also a sensitive girl who was losing her father. Her father who she was attached to the hip to until his final breath. You would give up your own happiness for your family and Carlos would do the same.
Carlos wipes your tears off your face kissing your cheek softly, “I love you,” His voice breaking as you nod your head and get off his lap after those words.
You had to create some distance or else this would hurt more than it already does, “It’ll pass.” You smile sadly at him, his big brown eyes welling up with tears as you remove the necklace he had given you as a birthday present the first year he joined ferrari. You had barely spoken to each other but he remembered your birthday fell during a race weekend and wanted to make you feel appreciated.
A necklace with a sun charm that had his initial on the back something you added after you started dating two years ago. He shakes his head and hands it back to you, “No, no please at least keep that. I want to keep mine so you keep that one.” His voice pleads and you nod your head putting it in your purse.
“I…I don’t know what to say, Carlos. I’m so sorry—.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay I know why and I don’t blame you. We love each other I know that but we also love our families and I…I probably would have done the same.” He gives a tight lipped smile, he was wrong. He would never do that because family would never give an ultimatum of choosing who you love or them. They would do it if they knew you were a bad person but you weren’t and neither was he. So why would Charles not let his sister be happy?
You grab your purse and walk towards the door, “I love you too. Always.” And without another word you walk out of his hotel room, and from his life.
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Celebrations begin all around you as Lando crosses the checkered flag and wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix but also winning the constructors championship. You try your best cheering for the Mclaren driver you’ve grown close to but seeing Carlos cross the checkered flag along your brother right behind him was enough to have you walking off to the nearest restroom to wipe your tears away.
You walk back out once they’re out on the podium and as you look up you lock eyes with Carlos who had already been watching your every move. His pained expression watching you clutch your necklace as the british national anthem surrounds the track.
You feel a hand intertwine with yours and to your surprise it’s Reyes, Carlos’ mom. Her gentle smile was more than enough to tell you she knew what went on earlier with her on and despite breaking his heart she was there consoling you silently in the crowd. “He’s going to be a world champion one day. And i won’t be there to see it.” You whisper softly enough for her to hear.
“He’s not winning anything without having you there with him. He loves you too much to not have you there to celebrate his biggest victories. He’ll wait for you. Go do what you have to do, querida. I know you’ll see each other again.” She encourages you, you look up one more time to Carlos who was spraying Lando and Charles. His eyes meet yours one more time and with a simple nod he gives you a quick nod back.
You’d be there for each other; from afar. Every step you take you’d be watching each other.
You watch him give a speech to the entire ferrari team including your brother who was watching you like a hawk. Your eyes remained on Carlos wherever he moved as he hugged everyone and tears started filling almost everyone’s eyes. Except your brothers.
Carlos reaches you after giving everyone hugs and to the rest it may seem like a simple interaction but if only they knew as Carlos arms wrap around your waist and your arms snake around his neck you held onto each other like you never wanted to let go. Silence fills the room as a few members walk out to pack up and only Carlos’ team and family wait for him.
Charles walking up to break the hug, “Sœur. Nous devons y aller maintenant (Sister. We have to go now)” He refuses to make eye contact with either of you, guilt filling his chest. Before you could look back up at Carlos your brother has already dragged you out of there.
Every step you took you felt further and further away from him. You have to live with that.
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“Yes, I’ll be there in about 20 minutes. Sounds good.” Carlos hangs up the call, walking the streets of London he enjoyed the cool air hitting against him. He’s going into his second year with Williams and he could see the improvement the team has made and think he’s got a good shot at the wdc this season which starts in just a few weeks.
A year without you had been the slowest year he has lived. He was so used to never keeping track of the time or days when he was with you. Now without you he was mostly filled with silence on days he wasn’t with the team or family.
His friendship with Charles grew stronger after he left the team despite knowing he was the reason you weren’t together. Charles thought he got closer to keep tabs on you but it was quite the opposite. Since that night you hadn’t heard from each other at all, the only thing keeping you connected was the necklaces you kept.
His star chain hanging on his neck was worn at all times and questions were asked if there was a significance to it which he would reply with it was a cool chain. The meaning would always be between the two of you, it’s the one thing you could both keep as yours.
Charles lived with the guilt every single day despite him being a better brother to you and supporting what you wanted (except your relationship with Carlos). He still had his days but he’s been one of your biggest supporters when you had opened your cafe. You still felt betrayed he made you choose but in the end he was your brother, you could never be mad at him. He was your best friend.
“Have a great day!” You smile at your regular customer who has picked up their order just now. Your cafe had been gaining popularity after a few months of being open and you couldn’t be anymore grateful. It was noon and that is when you get the most busy so as you help ring up customers you don’t feel the eyes on you staring from across the street.
Carlos stands across the street from where your cafe is, seeing you through the display window a smile adorned on your face he couldn’t help but cross the street. His heart beat picking up as he got closer to you and standing at the window he looks up at the name.
Café Étoilé
“You’re my sunshine. You brighten my whole day just looking at you.” Carlos sighs contently as you lay your head on his chest. You giggle at the nickname and smile up at him, “Well you’re a star so that makes you my star. My starry eyed man,”
“Starry eyed?”
“Yeah. Your brown eyes are my favorite feature of yours, they’re starry eyed.” You tell him, staring the obvious.
“I love it.”
You named the cafe after him, in a way that Charles couldn’t say no because he didn’t know the nicknames you shared together. This was yours. No one else’s.
His smile meets his eyes watching you do what you loved, it was enough for him to realize that despite not communicating in over a year you’d always have a special place in each other’s hearts. For now you’d watch each other from afar and celebrate your accomplishments in that way.
You finish ringing the last customer up apart of the rush and you feel the need to look out your window feeling a pair of eyes on you but as you look up you find nobody except stranger walking along the street. Instinctively your hand grips your necklace and trace over the engraving of Carlos’ name.
Your love for each other did indeed not pass.
I love it so much😍😍
Hi luv! How are you? I would like to request some Tasm!Peter Parker with reader that is shorter than him and loves to write. I hope you like this and that you have a great time writing it! Thank you!
Hii, thank u for this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to write🤧 I hope this is okay and not completely bad lmao😅🥰 (0.6k) warnings: use of y/n and petnames, fluff
You were in the middle of writing, when your favourite pen stopped working. And you know, how just some pens are the pens. You couldn't focus on the writing with a different pen, because it was irritating you. So you decided to go buy it and completely forgot that Peter was supposed to come.
You are walking to the supply shop not far from your apartment, when your phone rings, "Sweetheart, where are you ?" He asks, sounding a little bit worried.
You suddenly remember, that he was coming over, " shit, I'm sorry, Pete. I was writing, when my pen stopped working. I'm on my way to the supply shop near the apartment right now. I completely forgot, you were coming, I'll be back in like 15-"
"I'm coming to you" Peter cuts you off and you can't even respond, because he hangs up.
You barely take a few steps towards the supply shop, when you hear a familiar 'whoosh' sound and it only takes Peter a few seconds to appear at your side.
And Peter, the affectionate person, that he is, picks you right up into his arms and spins you around.
"Pete! Put me down, you idiot," you laugh, "everybody will think, we are crazy!"
Peter puts you finally down and smiles at you, "well I am crazy..." his grin gets even bigger, "crazy for you."
"That was so cheesy, Pete" you giggle and playfully punch him in his arm.
"Yes, but you loved it," he replies and intervenes his hand with yours, as you begin to walk to the shop. "I did not," you lie. You love his cheesiness, even if it makes you cringe sometimes.
"You did and you know it," he argues, voice all cocky and you just shake your head.
"Nope," you deny and try to suppress the smile, that is trying to break out.
"You are clearly lying, sweetheart" he points out the obvious," do you wanna know how i know?"
"How?" you question with a roll of your eyes.
"You always scrunch your nose, when you lie, that's how I always know," he say, grinning and he flicks your nose softly.
"What?"
"It's true, but I think, it's so cute, babe" he pokes your side and laughs, when you glare at him.
"You're mean today."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart" he says and you almost believe him. You want to say something rude to him, but he stops the teasing and asks you about your day. You happily tell him everything, that happened, until you get to the supply shop.
At the shop, you literally look at everything you don't need before getting the pen. Peter is obediently following you around the shop like a lost puppy.
Finally you spot the pen, the only problem is, that it's on the highest shelf.
You stand on your tiptoes, even jump, but it's too high for your small height, you groan in frustration.
"Pete?" you smile sweetly at him.
"Yeah?" he asks. He is looking out of the shop's window, his mind completely somewhere else. You can't blame him, it can't be fun to follow you around the store.
"Could you help me?" you pout. Peter's face immediately lights up, his boredom gone.
"What do you need, lovely?
"Can you get the pen, please?" you point at it, "I can't reach it."
You know the second Peter starts smirking at you, that you are in for teasing (affectionate).
"Ow sweetheart, you are too tiny to reach the top shelf, aren't you?"
"Well, having a boyfriend, that is literally a giant comes in handy then, right?" You banter back.
"That's why you keep me around, huh?" he quips back, you chuckle at that and nod, "Yeah, that's exactly why, " you say and tap him lightly on the cheek.
"Now come on, handsome. We have to get home before I forget, what I wanted to write."
"I'm coming, I'm coming" he laughs and follows you quickly towards the cashier, before you can leave him behind for being too slow.
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Thank u for reading! Feedback is always appreciated. 🥰🥰
Have a good day☀️Peace out
Finally found it!!!!💖💖😍😍
Falling For You (2021 Rewrite) Series Masterlist
Summary: After being recruited to work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab as a ballistics/firearms expert, you develop feelings for a certain brown-eyed CSI level III. But what happens when you start receiving threats?
Pairing: Nick Stokes x Fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit, NSFW, 18+
Warnings: fluff, canon-level action, smut
Total word count: ~42,000
A/N: This is set sometime in season 12. This was my very first piece of fanfiction, ever. Kind of fitting for it to be a CSI fic; the show played a big role in my life when I was younger. Completed April 2020. Rewrite completed March 2021.
Series Masterlist
Chapter 1: Wide Open Spaces
Chapter 2: Why Don’t We Just Dance
Chapter 3: That’s My Kind of Night
Chapter 4: I Run to You
Chapter 5: Easy Silence
Chapter 6: She’s with Me
Chapter 7: The Difference
Epilogue: Bless the Broken Road
So Hot🔥🔥
Happy 1K!!! I would love it if you could write a little something for my fav Danny Ric 🥹 using some of the prompts, I was thinking of these ❛ if you want something, then you ask for it!’ ‘ Suck on it then’ and "Swallow it. All of it."
tattoo temptation | d. ricciardo
thank you anon!! your favourite is my favourite, so i loved writing this<3 i appreciate the submission, i hope you enjoy!
daniel ricciardo x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ content, light mention of thigh worship, oral (m receiving), praise, dom!daniel, swallowing.
you had been at this for what felt like hours. your fingers trace the intricate ink on daniel’s thigh, the black lines standing out stark against his tanned skin. you’re kneeling between his legs, your obsession evident as your lips brush over the edges of the design, just above where his shorts are rucked up.
“you keep staring at it like that, sweetheart, and i’ll start thinking you’re more into my tattoo than me,” daniel teases, his voice low and thick, amusement curling around the heat in his tone. his voice never fails to sen heat to your core, and you’d have him talking forever if you could.
you glance up, meeting his darkened gaze, your lips curling into a sly smirk. “maybe i am, maybe you should take the hint.”
he raises a brow, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your head back slightly. he knows you love his thighs, but you’ve been acting different tonight, he can tell your mood isn’t just because of his inked thigh. “if you want something, then you ask for it,” he says, his Aussie drawl sending shivers down your spine. it wasn’t something gentle and encourage, it felt like a disguised command.
your hand slides higher on his thigh, fingers just brushing the hard bulge beneath his boxers. “then I guess i’ll stop teasing,” you murmur, your voice dripping with mischief as you pull the waistband of his shorts down, freeing him from the constrains of his boxers.
his breath hitches as you wrap your hand around his thick length, your thumb circling the tip slowly, spreading the bead of wetness that’s already forming. you glance up again, your lips ghosting over the head as his hand makes its way in your hair, threading his fingers through the soft strands.
“don’t stop now,” he mutters, his usual cockiness tinged with desperation. you knew you were both on the same level now, instead of him being fully in control. you considered teasing even more, but you were just as desperate as he was.
you hum softly, your lips parting as you take him in, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding lower. his thighs tense beneath your hands as you hollow your cheeks, taking him in deeper.
“fuck,” he groans, his fingers tightening in your hair, guiding your movements without forcing you onto his cock. “you look so good like this, sweetheart. you were made to be right between my legs.”
you pull back slightly, your tongue teasing along the underside of his shaft before you look up at him, eyes half-lidded. “suck on it, then,” he rasps, his voice deep and thick with need, the command sends a thrill through you.
you obey him, taking him deeper this time as your hand moves to stroke what your mouth can’t take. the weight of him on your tongue, the way he twitches in your mouth, has heat pooling low in your belly. you exhale around him as you moan against his cock, revelling in the way he shivers.
“just like that, baby,” he pants, his other hand gripping the edge of the couch as you quicken your pace. his hips lift slightly, his control slipping as his breaths grow heavier.
you feel him getting close, his grip on your hair tightening as he mutters your name like a prayer. when his release hits, he groans low and rough, holding you steady.
“swallow it. all of it,” he growls, and the raw dominance in his tone makes you clench around nothing.
you do as he says, swallowing every last drop of his salty cum before pulling back, your lips swollen, a satisfied smile playing on your face as you look up at him, fluttering your lashes in the process.
daniel’s chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “you’re obsessed with just my tattoos, huh?”
you wink, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “i love everything down here, maybe it’s all just a good excuse to get on my knees.”
This is a piece of art. I'm almost crying and I'm in class, so I can't. It's perfect and now I need a part 2 to see how he suffers when he realises that she's not his and it's never coming back. I don't care if she's with Oscar or not, I just need to hug her and see that she's happy. Thank you for your amazing writing and for the time spent creating this beautiful thing. 💖💖❤️❤️
HEAR ME (PURPLE LACED BRA) | LN4
an: i've been dying to post something to this so i'm glad i finally have something written - hope you guys enjoy it! go listen to so close to what!!
wc: 4.6k
THE MUSIC WAS DEAFENING, the bass shaking the floor beneath her heels, but she barely heard it. She stood at the edge of the VIP section, half-watching the celebration unfold in front of her. The club was packed—champagne bottles with sparklers, models draped over the backs of velvet sofas, cameras flashing every few seconds. And at the centre of it all was Lando.
He was grinning, drink in hand, surrounded by his team and a few celebrities she half-recognised. Another win. Another podium. Another reason for the world to love him. And they did—God, they did. Everyone wanted a piece of him.
She used to feel lucky just to stand beside him. Now, she wasn’t sure if she even existed in his world at all.
A hand brushed against the small of her back. She startled, turning to see Lando looking down at her with that easy, practised smirk—the one that melted screens and made headlines.
“Where’ve you disappeared to?” he asked, pulling her into his side. His hand rested low on her waist, fingers playing at the hem of her dress. He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning down, his lips grazing her ear. “Come on, don’t do that thing where you get all quiet on me.”
Her jaw clenched. He said it like it was a mood she put on, like she was being difficult. But what was the point of speaking when he never heard her?
So she did what she always did. She tilted her head, plastered on a smile, let him pull her closer. He liked her like this—silent, beautiful, easy.
A photographer stepped forward, camera ready. Lando straightened, his grip tightening just slightly, and just like that, she knew her role. She shifted towards him, leant into the picture, let them capture exactly what they wanted: The driver and his perfect girl.
But she was starting to wonder if that was all she would ever be.
The camera flash flickered, catching the sharp angles of Lando’s jaw, the gleam of his watch, the perfect way her body fit against his. The photographer gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already chasing after someone else worth capturing.
Lando exhaled through his nose, his grip on her easing now that the moment had passed. “See?” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Was that so hard?”
Her smile didn’t waver. It never did. But something in her chest twisted so tightly she almost felt breathless.
He turned back to his conversation, already lost in some animated discussion about the race, his hands moving as he recounted the final laps. She knew the words before they left his mouth—the same adrenaline-fuelled debrief he gave after every win. The late braking, the perfect strategy call, the rivals he left in his dust.
He was electric when he spoke about racing. It was the only time she ever saw him truly alive.
She used to love watching him like this. Now, she just felt like a shadow beside him.
Her fingers skimmed the rim of her untouched drink as she scanned the room. Everywhere she looked, people were watching him. Not her. Never her. She could disappear right now and no one would notice.
Well—almost no one.
Lando’s teammates, Oscar, was watching her from across the table. He had that knowing look in his eye, the one that made her stomach twist. He always seemed to see things, things she wasn’t ready to admit.
She turned away before he could say anything.
“I’m going to the loo,” she said quietly, but Lando didn’t even glance at her. He just gave a distracted nod, still deep in conversation.
Of course.
She stepped away, weaving through the throng of people, their laughter and shouting merging into white noise. The ladies’ toilets were tucked behind a velvet curtain, far enough from the chaos that the music was just a dull thud in the walls. She pushed open the door and exhaled, gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at herself in the mirror.
She looked exactly how she was supposed to. The perfect dress, the flawless makeup, the effortless kind of beauty that people expected from the girlfriend of a star.
But looking perfect had never felt so exhausting.
The door swung open behind her, and she braced herself, half-expecting one of the other WAGs to stroll in. Instead, it was Oscar.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. “You alright?”
She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s a stupid question.”
“Maybe.” His gaze didn’t waver. “But I think you should hear yourself answer it.”
Her throat tightened.
Because the truth was, she wasn’t alright. And she was starting to think she never had been.
She turned back to the mirror, gripping the porcelain edge of the sink as if it could steady her. Behind her, Oscar hadn’t moved. He wasn’t pushing her to answer, but his silence said enough.
“I’m fine,” she said, forcing the words out smoothly. Too smoothly.
Oscar huffed a quiet breath, tilting his head slightly. “That’s not the answer I was hoping for.”
She met his gaze in the mirror, and for a second, something flickered in her chest—something that made her want to fold, to speak, to say all the things she’d been swallowing down for too long.
But what was the point? She could scream at the top of her lungs, and Lando still wouldn’t hear her.
She turned away, brushing past Oscar as she pulled open the door. “I should get back.”
“Should you?” His voice was quiet but steady.
She paused.
Oscar sighed, shifting his weight. “Look, I know it’s not my business, but I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look when he’s not.”
Her breath hitched slightly. She hated that he noticed. She hated that someone had caught onto the thing she’d spent months trying to ignore.
Still, she forced a light laugh, giving him an amused glance over her shoulder. “You analysing me now?”
His lips twitched. “You could say that. You know, body positioning determines whether or not someone’s actually listening.”
The words sent a sharp pang through her chest.
Because Lando never did listen. She could whisper in his ear, touch him, scream until her throat was raw—but the only time he truly paid attention was when she was undressing, when she was playing the role he wanted her to. And maybe she’d accepted that for a while, maybe she’d let herself believe that was just part of loving someone like him.
But now… now it felt suffocating.
Her phone buzzed.
Lando: Where’d you go? Come back.
No “Are you okay?” No “Do you need me?” Just come back. Like she was a misplaced watch or a forgotten drink.
She swallowed the bitter lump in her throat, forcing another easy smile as she tucked her phone away. “I should go.”
Oscar didn’t stop her. He just nodded, but the look in his eyes stayed with her as she slipped back into the club, where Lando was waiting.
Waiting for her.
Not her thoughts, not her words, not the things that made her her. Just her body, her presence, her silence.
And she was starting to wonder if that was all she’d ever be to him.
The night dragged on. More drinks, more cameras, more mindless conversations she wasn’t part of. She stayed close to Lando, playing the role as she always did, but she felt herself slipping further and further away.
By the time he decided they were leaving, she felt like a ghost in her own body.
As Lando shook hands and exchanged goodbyes with the people that mattered, she glanced towards the bar, her eyes catching on Oscar.
He was already looking at her. His expression was unreadable, but there was something steady in his gaze—something that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
Before she could stop herself, she gave him a small, tired smile.
Oscar didn’t smile back, but the way his jaw clenched slightly told her enough.
Lando’s hand landed on her hip, pulling her back into focus. “Come on,” he murmured, already leading her towards the exit, towards his car, towards another night of being exactly what he wanted.
The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the hum of the McLaren filling the silence between them. Lando was relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on her bare thigh.
She stared out the window, watching the city blur past, her thoughts tangled.
Would he hear me more if I whispered? If I touched him the way he wanted? If I played this part forever?
Would he ever hear me?
She barely realised they’d arrived until the car pulled smoothly into the hotel’s private entrance. The valet opened her door, and she stepped out into the warm night air, still feeling that lingering touch on her skin.
The lift ride was just as silent. Lando didn’t notice—he was scrolling through his phone, probably checking messages, reading about his win, soaking in the world’s praise.
She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself.
The moment they stepped into their suite, the tension shifted.
Before she could even take a breath, Lando’s hands were on her, spinning her towards him.
She barely had time to react before he had her pressed against the wall, his body firm against hers, his lips brushing against her neck. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he murmured against her skin.
She swallowed, her hands coming up to his chest, pushing lightly. “I’m tired.”
Lando barely hesitated. “Come on,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her jaw, his hands sliding over her hips. “Don’t do that.”
That.
That meaning the exhaustion in her voice. That meaning the part of her that wanted something more than this.
“I’m not in the mood, Lando.” Her voice was firmer this time.
He let out a sharp exhale, pulling back just enough to look at her properly. His dark eyes scanned her face, and for a second, she thought—hoped—that maybe he’d see something. Maybe he’d hear something.
But then he just scoffed. “You’re always bloody tired these days.”
And just like that, she knew.
There was no concern in his voice. No question of what was wrong. No care for why she felt like this, for why she had been drifting further and further from him. Just frustration. Just disappointment that she wasn’t giving him what he wanted.
She forced herself to hold his gaze, even as something inside her cracked wide open. “I think I’m going to take a bath.”
Lando studied her for a moment longer, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. “Yeah, whatever.”
And then—just like that—he turned and walked out of the suite, the door clicking shut behind him.
She stood there, frozen.
Not surprised. Not angry.
Just… empty.
And that was the worst part.
She moved through the next couple of hours on autopilot.
She took off her makeup, wiped away the remnants of the night. She ran a bath but barely stayed in it long enough for the heat to sink into her skin. She changed into one of Lando’s oversized shirts, something she always did before bed—more out of habit than comfort now.
And then she sat.
Just sat on the edge of their bed, staring at nothing, the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. The weight in her chest pressed heavier and heavier until it finally cracked, and before she even realised it, tears spilled over her cheeks.
She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to blink them away. What the hell is wrong with me?
It wasn’t like this was new. Lando had always been like this. She had always been an accessory to him, something to be looked at, shown off, touched when it suited him.
But tonight felt different.
Tonight, she had said no. And he had walked away like she was nothing more than an inconvenience.
A quiet sob broke from her throat, and she buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.
She didn’t even hear the door open at first.
It wasn’t until she caught the heavy thud of something hitting the sofa that she jolted upright, quickly wiping at her tear-streaked face. Her heart pounded as she turned towards the noise, her breath catching in her throat.
Lando was slumped on the suite’s sofa, looking barely conscious. And standing over him, an arm still half-draped around his shoulders, was Oscar.
Her stomach twisted. “What—?”
Oscar let out a breath, straightening up and shaking his head. “Your boyfriend’s had one too many.”
Her eyes flickered back to Lando. His head lolled against the cushion, his shirt slightly rumpled, his hair a mess. He was clearly out of it.
She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Where did you find him?”
Oscar ran a hand through his hair, looking both exasperated and unimpressed. “Slumped in the back of the club, surrounded by people who were more interested in snapping pictures of him than making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit.” His gaze flicked to hers. “Figured you might want to know.”
Her chest tightened.
Of course. Of course this was how he handled things—getting wasted, drowning himself in attention that didn’t require him to actually feel anything. It was easier than facing his own reflection.
Or maybe… it was easier than facing her.
She let out a slow breath, rubbing at her temple. “Thanks for bringing him back.”
Oscar nodded but didn’t move. He was watching her carefully, like he could still see too much.
Like maybe, just maybe, he knew she had been sitting here crying before he walked in.
Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “You don’t have to stay.”
Oscar hesitated for half a second before his jaw tightened, and he gave a small, reluctant nod. “Alright.”
But as he moved towards the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You know… if you ever get tired of this,” he gestured vaguely to Lando’s slumped form, “you don’t have to stay.”
Her throat closed up.
Oscar didn’t wait for an answer. He just slipped out the door, leaving her alone with the man who was supposed to love her.
But as she sat there, staring at Lando—passed out, blissfully unaware—she realised something.
She had never felt lonelier in her life.
She sat down on the floor beside the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest. The carpet was soft beneath her, but everything else felt unbearably sharp.
Her gaze flickered over Lando’s face—the strong jawline, the perfect cheekbones, the dark lashes that cast faint shadows against his skin. He looked almost peaceful like this, lost in whatever drunken haze he had drowned himself in.
Her chest ached as she reached out, fingers threading gently through his hair. It was soft beneath her touch, familiar in a way that made her heart hurt even more.
A quiet sob broke from her lips as she whispered, “Why wasn’t I enough?”
She had loved him so fiercely. She had stood by him, supported him, adored him. She had been everything he wanted her to be—poised, beautiful, silent when it mattered.
And yet, as she sat there, her tears slipping onto the fabric of his shirt, she finally understood.
She had fallen in love with him. But he had only ever fallen in love with her body.
Her hands curled into fists in his shirt as a quiet, broken sound left her throat. She had spent so long trying to be heard, to be seen, but the truth was devastatingly simple. Lando had never wanted to know her. He had never cared about her thoughts, her fears, her soul.
Only how she looked standing beside him. Only how she felt beneath him.
A shaky breath shuddered through her as she slowly pulled back.
Her gaze landed on his phone, lying loosely in his hand.
For a long moment, she just stared at it.
Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she carefully pried it from his grip. He didn’t stir. She tilted it towards his face, and with a soft sound, the lock screen vanished.
Her heart pounded as she pulled up his messages, ready to text Oscar.
But she never got that far.
Because the moment she opened his messages, her stomach dropped.
Hundreds.
Hundreds of messages.
All from different girls.
Some were old, buried beneath months of conversations. Others were recent. Some from tonight.
Her breath caught in her throat as she scrolled. He hadn’t even bothered to be subtle. Flirty messages, suggestive photos, hotel room numbers exchanged without hesitation.
Like it was nothing.
Like she was nothing.
A sharp, painful lump formed in her throat, but no more tears came. Maybe because there was nothing left to grieve.
Because the man she thought she loved?
He had never existed.
Her hands shook slightly as she backed out of the messages and pulled up his texts. She typed quickly, her fingers moving without hesitation.
Lando: What’s your room number?
The reply came almost instantly.
Oscar: Why?
She swallowed hard, staring at the screen. Then, without another thought, she typed back.
Lando: Please. Just tell me.
There was a long pause. Then—
Oscar: 2209.
She exhaled slowly, then locked the phone and set it back beside Lando.
For the first time in a long, long time, she knew exactly what she needed to do.
And for the first time—she wasn’t going to ask for permission.
She didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t stop to second-guess herself.
For so long, she had been trapped in this cycle—ignoring the things she didn’t want to see, pretending everything was fine. But now? The truth had cracked open in front of her, and there was no going back.
She stood up, wiping at her face, even though no more tears had fallen. Her body felt strangely light, like the weight pressing down on her for months had finally started to lift.
But she wasn’t free yet.
She grabbed a bag from the wardrobe, moving quickly, shoving in the essentials—her passport, her wallet, a few clothes. Enough to get her away from here, away from him.
She hesitated when she reached for one of Lando’s oversized shirts—the one she was still wearing. Then, with a bitter exhale, she pulled it off, yanking on a cropped tank top and a pair of shorts instead.
This wasn’t his to keep anymore.
Without a second glance, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out of the suite, her pulse hammering as she stepped into the empty hallway.
She didn’t look back.
The corridor outside 2209 was quiet.
Her hands felt clammy as she knocked once. A part of her expected Oscar to ignore it, to assume it was Lando being drunk and annoying.
But after a moment, the door cracked open, and Oscar stood there, his brows pulling together the second he saw her.
“What the hell—?”
“I—” Her voice wavered, and suddenly, everything hit her all at once. The weight of the last few hours. The betrayal. The realisation that the man she had given her heart to had never truly wanted it in the first place.
She dropped her gaze, blinking hard. “I can’t—I can’t stay there.”
Oscar was silent for a beat. Then, without another word, he stepped aside, pulling the door open wider.
She hesitated, guilt twisting in her stomach. “I—I’ll book my own room. I just—needed to get out.”
Oscar’s jaw tensed, his eyes scanning her face. “You’re not booking a hotel at—” he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, “—two in the bloody morning.”
She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
Oscar ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet huff. “For fuck’s sake, just—get in.”
Her throat closed up, but she nodded, stepping inside as he shut the door behind her.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with herself. The adrenaline that had carried her here was wearing off, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and heartbreak.
She felt Oscar watching her.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” His voice was steady. Not pushing, not demanding. Just there.
That was what undid her.
Because when was the last time anyone had asked her how she felt? When was the last time someone had wanted to hear what she had to say—without conditions, without expectations?
Her shoulders shook as she sucked in a breath, her hand coming up to cover her face.
And then she broke.
A strangled sob ripped from her throat as she sank onto the edge of the bed, the tears she had been holding back finally crashing over her.
Oscar didn’t say anything.
He just moved.
She barely registered it at first—the dip of the mattress beside her, the way his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest.
For a moment, she stiffened. She wasn’t used to this—to comfort without expectation. But Oscar just held her, warm and solid, one hand rubbing slow circles on her back.
She sobbed harder.
“He never loved me,” she whispered through the tears, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. “I—I thought he did, but he just—he just loved the way I looked. The way I made him look.”
Oscar’s grip on her tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. “I know.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “I was so stupid.”
Oscar exhaled sharply. “You weren’t stupid.”
She let out a hollow laugh. “Then what was I?”
Oscar was quiet for a long time. Then—
“You were in love.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
And maybe that was the worst part.
Because she still was.
Oscar didn’t pull away. He just kept holding her, letting her cry against him. His hands were steady on her back, his touch warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her own shoulders.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, voice muffled in his shirt, her tears soaking into the fabric. “I thought… I thought I could fix it. But I don’t even know who he is anymore. Or who I am to him.”
Oscar’s hand smoothed through her hair, the motion gentle. “You don’t have to fix anything, alright?” he said softly, his voice low and comforting. “You don’t owe him anything. You only owe yourself the truth.”
She nodded weakly, though it felt like a hundred-pound weight was sitting on her chest.
He let her cry for as long as she needed, and when the sobs finally slowed, he shifted slightly, coaxing her to lie down.
“Let me get you into bed,” he murmured.
She wanted to protest, but she was too tired—physically and emotionally—so she allowed him to help her, shifting her legs as he gently guided her onto the mattress. Oscar tucked the blanket around her and, for a moment, just stood there, looking down at her.
Her eyelids were heavy, but she managed to lift her head slightly to meet his eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, barely a whisper.
Oscar gave her a small smile, but there was no mockery, no playfulness in it—just something real. “Get some sleep. I’m right here.”
She didn’t have the strength to say anything else. Her eyes fluttered shut, and before she knew it, the exhaustion of the day caught up with her.
When she woke up, the room was bathed in the soft morning light. She blinked a few times, groggy, trying to remember where she was, what had happened.
Then the events of the night came flooding back, and her chest squeezed with pain.
But as she stirred beneath the covers, she realised the weight on her was gone. There was no harshness, no cold emptiness pressing in on her. Instead, she smelled something familiar. Something warm.
She turned her head, and there, sitting at the desk, was Oscar.
He was holding a tray with a simple breakfast—croissants, fruit, and coffee. “Morning,” he said with a small smile, looking up from the screen of his phone.
Her stomach grumbled, and she smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture more than she could express. “I didn’t expect this,” she murmured, sitting up slowly.
Oscar grinned, though there was something soft in his eyes. “Well, you’ve had a rough night, haven’t you? Figured you could use something other than room service for a change.”
She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.
After a few moments of eating in silence, she reached for her phone. The screen lit up with a message notification—nothing from Lando.
Her heart skipped, but she told herself not to feel disappointed.
She unlocked her phone and opened Instagram, the app taking a moment to load. She tapped through her feed absentmindedly, but her thumb froze as her eyes landed on a photo—Lando, in his usual athletic wear, standing on a padel court, laughing with some other drivers.
He hadn’t noticed.
She stared at the photo for a long, long time.
He hadn’t even thought to message her.
There it was again. That crushing, suffocating truth.
She had spent the entire night worrying about him, about why he hadn’t cared, about why he had left her feeling like this.
And there he was, looking perfectly fine. Having fun. Living his life without a single care in the world about what she had gone through.
Her breath hitched, and she set her phone down, her hands trembling.
It hit her all over again—the truth that Lando had never cared about her in the way she had hoped. He never would.
The realisation was sharp and brutal. And this time, it didn’t feel like the first time she had felt heartbroken—it felt like the first time she had truly woken up.
She looked up at Oscar, her breath still shaky. He was watching her, waiting for something.
“Lando’s out there,” she whispered, her voice a little too quiet, too small. “He’s out there, laughing, living his life, like nothing happened.”
Oscar nodded, but his expression wasn’t pitying. It wasn’t anything like the way Lando would have looked at her in that moment. “Yeah. He is.”
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”
Oscar’s gaze softened, and he set the breakfast tray down beside her. He sat next to her on the bed, his hand brushing hers. “You don’t have to figure it out right now.”
She met his eyes, and this time, there was a calmness inside her—a stillness, like she was beginning to see herself for the first time in forever.
“I’m not going to let you stay in that toxic shit,” Oscar said, his voice steady. “You’ve already put up with it for too long. But if you need time, I’m here.”
She didn’t have the words to express what she was feeling, but for once, she didn’t need to.
“Thank you,” she whispered again, the words feeling like the most sincere thing she’d said in a long time.
And in that moment, as she sat beside Oscar, she realised—maybe she could finally let go. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing things with Lando. Maybe it was about fixing herself.
the end.
taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @driverlando
Help!!!! I can't stop reading fanfics about Sebastian Stan. I need urgent therapy!!!!
I need more of this trouple😍😍. Oh! To be loved by the gorgeous Rebecca Donaldson.
And Carlos Sainz, too.
cozy mornings
pairing: poly!carlos sainz x reader x rebecca donaldson
summary: cozy mornings with your boyfriend and girlfriend
warnings: none
the soft light of the morning crept through the blinds, gently waking you from a peaceful sleep. you could feel the warmth of the blankets around you and the comforting presence of carlos and rebecca, who were still curled up beside you. the quiet of the morning was only broken by the soft rhythm of their breathing, the sounds of a calm, lazy morning.
you shifted slightly, feeling carlos’s arm wrapped around you, his warmth spreading through you, and rebecca’s hand resting lightly on your side. a soft smile tugged at your lips as you blinked sleepily, taking in the calm, cozy atmosphere. for a moment, everything felt perfect—just the three of you, together, in your little cocoon of blankets and comfort.
but then, your stomach gave a small, grumbling protest.
you chuckled quietly, feeling a little embarrassed, but it was hard to ignore the undeniable hunger. rebecca stirred beside you, blinking sleepily.
“hungry?” she asked, her voice hushed and still groggy with sleep, but there was no mistaking the playful smile in her voice.
“yeah,” you admitted, your voice still thick with the remnants of sleep. “just a little bit.”
rebecca’s hand moved over your side, her fingers gently brushing against your skin. she looked over at carlos, who was still half asleep, his face buried in the pillow.
“hey, sleepyhead,” she murmured, nudging him lightly. “time to make breakfast.”
carlos groaned softly, not quite ready to face the world yet. “mm, five more minutes,” he muttered, his voice muffled against the pillow.
you and rebecca exchanged amused glances, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “if we wait five more minutes, i’ll probably eat you both alive.”
this seemed to do the trick. carlos lifted his head slowly, blinking groggily at you both before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“fine, fine,” he said with a sigh, finally sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. “but only because i’m feeling generous.”
rebecca laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately. “generous? you mean, because you’re starving too, aren’t you?”
carlos smiled sheepishly, rubbing his eyes. “maybe a little.”
the three of you eventually managed to drag yourselves out of bed and into the kitchen. the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as rebecca started the machine, while you and carlos got to work gathering ingredients for breakfast. carlos was already ruffling through the cabinets, clearly in his element.
“so,” rebecca began, her voice teasing, “what’s on the menu today, chef?”
carlos flashed a grin over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up with that familiar sparkle. “well, i was thinking we could make my famous fluffy pancakes.”
your heart warmed at the thought. carlos’s pancakes were a special thing—light and fluffy, the kind of pancakes that could melt in your mouth and make you feel like you were tasting a bit of heaven. he’d made them countless times before, and every time, they were just as perfect as the last.
“i’m in,” you said, giving him a playful thumbs-up. “your pancakes are legendary.”
“legendary, huh?” carlos laughed, his confidence growing with each word. “i like the sound of that.”
rebecca chuckled, clearly fond of the banter between the two of you. “well, i’ll be the judge of that.”
you couldn’t help but smile as you set the table, grabbing plates and silverware while rebecca set out the fruit and syrup. the kitchen was alive with energy as carlos moved about, carefully measuring the ingredients, his focus sharp and precise. he loved cooking, and you could always tell when he was in his element, his hands moving smoothly through the motions, like he had a rhythm all his own.
“you’re getting really serious about this,” you teased, watching him crack an egg into a bowl with a look of concentration.
“i take pancakes very seriously,” carlos replied with a wink. “they’re not just food, they’re a work of art.”
“art,” you repeated, laughing softly. “well, i can’t wait to see the masterpiece.”
as carlos continued to mix the batter, rebecca moved to your side, handing you a mug of coffee. “thank you,” you said, taking a sip and feeling the warmth spread through you.
“anything for you,” she replied, her eyes soft as she looked at you. “feeling okay?”
you smiled at her concern, the warmth in her gaze making you feel loved and cared for. “yeah, just tired. but nothing a pancake breakfast won’t fix.”
“i’m sure carlos’s pancakes will work wonders,” rebecca said with a playful grin, glancing over at carlos.
“just wait and see,” carlos said confidently, flipping the first pancake with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times.
as the pancakes began to stack up, the kitchen was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and butter, a delicious reminder of how well the three of you fit together. rebecca took charge of preparing the toppings—sliced bananas, strawberries, and a drizzle of maple syrup—while you and carlos made sure the pancakes were perfectly golden.
“this looks incredible,” you said, admiring the stack of fluffy pancakes carlos had just placed on the counter. “i can’t wait to dig in.”
“you won’t have to wait much longer,” carlos said, giving you a playful smile as he slid a pancake onto your plate. “dig in, mi amor.”
rebecca’s laughter rang through the room as she set the last of the toppings on the table. “you two are absolutely ridiculous.”
“we know,” you replied with a grin, grabbing a fork and cutting into the soft, fluffy stack in front of you.
the first bite was everything you’d hoped for—light, airy, and just the right amount of sweetness. it was like the pancake melted in your mouth, each bite a little piece of heaven. you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment.
“told you,” carlos said smugly, his eyes twinkling with pride as he watched you savor the bite. “famous for a reason.”
“i’ll give it to you,” you said with a smile. “these are perfection.”
rebecca, too, took a bite, and you could see her expression soften with the same appreciation. “i have to admit,” she said between bites, “they really are as good as everyone says.”
“i told you,” carlos grinned. “i don’t make just any pancakes.”
the three of you sat around the table, enjoying the meal, laughing, and sharing small moments of warmth. the conversation flowed easily, just like it always did with the two of them. there were jokes about who could eat the most pancakes, rebecca teasing carlos about his “secret recipe,” and you both making sure he knew how much you appreciated his culinary skills.
after breakfast, you found yourselves lingering at the table, chatting, drinking more coffee, and enjoying each other’s company. there was no rush, no place you had to be. the world outside felt distant and irrelevant as you sat there with them, feeling safe and loved.
“i think this might be my new favorite way to spend a morning,” you said softly, leaning back in your chair and looking at both of them.
rebecca smiled at you, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. “we can do this every morning, if you’d like.”
“i’d like that,” you replied, your heart full.
carlos grinned, his eyes softening with affection. “well, if that’s the case, i’m going to need to perfect my pancake recipe even more.”
“good luck with that,” rebecca teased. “you’ve already set the bar pretty high.”
the three of you laughed together, the sound filling the room and making it feel even more like home. and in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, their presence, and the lingering sweetness of the pancakes, everything felt perfect.
This one is so cute!!!! I love it!💖💖💓💓
Smooth Operator (Carlos Sainz x Reader)
Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear a song when their close to their soulmate, the volume depends on how far or close to them you are. Carlos was sure his song was smooth operator, so why hasn't he found his soulmate yet.
People would spend their whole life hoping to meeting their soulmate. Some would meet them as entered any stage of schooling or some would run into them suddenly but the worst were those that spent their life preening their ears for the soft melody of their soulmate song. You never knew what the song was, it could be a song that actually existed or just a mash of musical notes that described the two people involved but there was one thing Carlos was sure of; smooth operator was his soulmate song and yet his love life was anything but smooth operation.
He had heard stories of how loud and melodious the music was when his mother entered his father's life, his sister's recounted time when they met their soulmate. Carlos was getting antsy. Until one day, during a race weekend, he had grown tired of the tune of smooth operator which he could hear playing faintly as he walked in to the paddock with Lando. "ugh, that stupid song" Carlos muttered. "What song?" Lando asked confused. "Smooth Operator" Carlos stated. Lando looked confused, "I hear nothing" Lando stated. Carlos's eyes widened trying to figure out where he should move to find his soulmate. In the frantic few minutes of Carlos running around the paddock like a headless chicken with a confused Lando calling out to him; the melody stopped just as it had started.
Y/N never thought she would find her soulmate, she was above the natural age most of her relatives and family had met theirs and she had given up hope on ever meeting hers. She was in a small store near an F1 race when she heard the faint sound of smooth operator playing. She chalked it down to it being played at the race because it was a running gag with Carlos, her favourite Formula One driver. Y/N wasn't able to secure tickets to the race and just enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the race from the entrance, retreating to her hotel to try and enjoy a F1 free vacation.
Carlos waited days and months to be able to hear the song again, but with all the travelling it wouldn't have been possible. He just wished he had tried harder and maybe than he would've met his soulmate by now. His spirit was wounded to say the least.
Carlos then proceeded to hear smooth operator a few more times, but the melody was so faint that anyone would've missed it. His ears had started to pick up on the song whether it was being played or not.
Y/N finally got tickets to a F1 race. She used to watch the races with her siblings and being able to experience it with them was a dream come true for her. They had packed their bag and headed off to Spain. Ever since she had landed, she could hear the faint buzzing of smooth operator. She chalked it up to being obsessed with Carlos that, that was she was hearing it. She had made beaded bracelets for him and her siblings had made posters for the track side. It was Carlos's home race and she was so excited to be able to see him race in his home turf. As she had only gotten tickets for the race day, she spent the rest of her time in Barcelona with Smooth Operator playing. She thought it was probably the song currently stuck in her head. A thought did cross her mind; what if it was her soulmate song, but quickly pushed it off since the volume didn't seem to increase of decrease constantly.
Carlos was on edge, he could hear the song playing over and over again, the melody taunting him. The volume had increased on Friday but had remained constant the whole weekend, making it difficult to communicate with his race engineer. This was really throwing his mind off track since he couldn't focus on anything but the thought of his soulmate being so close yet so far away.
It was race day and both Carlos and Y/N were getting ready for the day. Y/N held all the bracelets she made for the drivers and fellow fans in hand as she distributed it to her fellow 55ers. She hoped to meet Carlos as he drove in. A little while after she had gotten on the track, the volume of the song playing in her ears had increased. Was she about to meet her soulmate? was all she could think about as the volume kept increasing. Y/N kept an eye out for anyone, in hopes that maybe, just maybe. She felt stupid for hoping when never thought she'd meet her soulmate.
As Carlos's car halted to a stop in the parking lot, the song had gotten quite loud, loud enough to make it difficult to focus. Carlos was extremely excited by it. He hopped out of the car and started scanning the area for his soulmate. He walked around for a bit before proceeding to the fans when he felt like he would go deaf with how loudly the song was blaring. He looked around for anyone who was also being affected by it. And than he saw it. A girl who's eyes were frantically scanning the area. Carlos stumbled forward to stand in front of her and as their eyes met, they knew since the song suddenly stopped, like the whole world stopped. Y/N slipped a bracelet into his palm while Carlos tried to walk away, not to cause a big scene. Y/N pulled her siblings aside and told them what had just happened and they couldn't stop jumping in excitement.
He asked his cousin to help get the girl into the garage. His cousin was quick to get her and her siblings in. Y/N was anxious and worried and excited. She couldn't believe Carlos was her soulmate. What good karma had she acquired to have him as her soulmate, she wondered.
Y/N was ushered into the garage, Carlos was seen waiting, his hair a mess from running his hands through it so many times. The pair stood in front of each other, "Carlos" she whispered and Carlos took her in. Dressed in his colours with his number on her cap and looked at the bracelet in his hand which read, idc ur my soulmate. It was supposed to be a joke, but right now neither of them were laughing. "Not fair you know my name" Carlos spoke, breaking the silence. "Y/N" she laughed. "Can't believe it" she said turning around to stop herself from fan girling. "You better believe it because I'm here to stay" he stated. She turned around to look at him once more, taking him in, not Carlos Sainz Jr, Formula One driver but Carlos Sainz, her soulmate. "That bracelet was supposed to be a joke" she stated as she saw him put it on. "And now it will be something I will wear forever" Carlos said, kissing the bracelet on his hand. "I never thought I would meet my soulmate but it was totally worth the wait" she smiled at him with tears in her eyes. "I always knew I would meet you and I'm glad I didn't lose hope" he smiled back, wrapping her in his embrace. The pair stood there for a while before breaking away, "Gonna have to win the race to show you how good I am" Carlos said. "I know how good you are but a race win doesn't sound bad" she replied.
Same🥺🥺
the way a hug from him would solve everything in my life
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+18 blog/MDNI. Requests open.22. She/her. Scorpio. I love art, books, music and movies. Emotionally attached to fictional characters.
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