Yeah, I Cried 🥲🫶
Yeah, I cried 🥲🫶
𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 // 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏
Summary: “Do guys from therapy usually hit on you?” – Or, the one where Oscar has to go to group counselling after a turbulent race incident and meets you, the quiet girl at the back of the hall.
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem! reader
Word count: 19k
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: they meet in therapy, it's all angst, lying, guilt, implied former drug addiction and fraudulent behaviour. Smut: penetrative sex, oral (f! receiving), Oscar is a boob guy, very soft and vanilla, maybe a size kink? Fluff: they cuddle? and the ending is happy-ish? Other: takes place during a fictional 2025 season, an atheistic conversation about religion, smoking cigarettes.
A/N: This might be the gloomiest thing I’ve ever written, but it also has 5k words of pure smut, so yeah, there's that. I’m weirdly proud of it. Please tell me what you think ♡
Abu Dhabi, 2024. Oscar could still smell the smoke sometimes, in nightmares or if he zoned out for too long. The scent clung to his mind—burning tires, scorched metal, and marshals running around in panic. In his dreams, he could hear the crackle of flames, feel the searing heat against his skin, as they carefully dragged him out and placed him in the medical car. He was sure that it was already in some compilation on youtube about the worst crashes of the season. Hell, maybe even in history.
Verstappen had already claimed his title, but getting the last win of the season would be a dream for anyone. It was a matter of pride, ending the season on a high note. For Oscar, it ended with a crash instead, just as he was about to overtake for the win on the last stint of the race.
And of course, it had to be with Charles.
Everyone loved Charles. And everyone hated Oscar for being the reason their favourite driver lost out on a win. Hate was a strong word and he was used to people having varying opinions about him, but there was something about this that he couldn’t shake off.
The worst part was the screaming—screaming that he had later been told never even happened. He'd made it up in his head. When he was being pulled from the wreckage, he could have sworn he’d heard Charles crying out in pain. He’d replayed it over and over, only to learn that Charles had gotten out first—before the fire even started to spread. Sore from the impact, but otherwise unharmed.
Oscar didn’t realise in the moment that the crash would affect him. It took months for it to catch up to him. It all cumulated into a breakdown during the pre-season testing for 2025, where he had locked himself in a room to drown out Charles’ screaming, getting the attention of his trainer and people on his team that something was wrong.
He was supposed to be the calm one. This was the opposite of calm.
He had Murphy’s Law on loop in his head. Everything that can go wrong will. It had never been like that for him before—analysing every possible mistake. It wasn’t even the mistakes he actually made, but the ones that never happened. It made him paralysed to get in the car every single time, but once he actually started driving, all those thoughts went away.
It was the imaginative screaming that had led him to where he was today—the parking lot outside of St. Anne’s Church before a group therapy and support meeting. It wasn’t a grand building by any means. The stones of the church were worn, weathered with years of storms battering its exterior. It always seemed to rain in this fucking town.
His therapist, trainer, and team had decided that this was best for him. Mandated meetings once a week until he could feel calm outside of the car and not just while driving it. This wasn’t about talking to some high-paid therapist; he already had one of those. No, this was about learning to cope with normal people, people who had been through real trauma, people who didn’t live their lives in the fast lane.
“You need support,” they’d said, as if these weekly gatherings at a worn-out church with other equally messed-up strangers would patch up whatever was broken inside him.
He had talked on the phone with the man leading the group, explaining that it would most likely be best for Oscar to show up to his first meeting, take a seat, and just get a feel for how it worked.
The meeting was held in a hall on the side of the church, an annex built sometime in the seventies while the church itself was centuries old. He was hit with the smell of old wood and damp air as soon as he entered. The group wasn’t small—maybe twenty people scattered around the room, sitting on mismatched chairs. It didn’t feel like one of those alcoholics anonymous meetings he’d seen in movies, which had been his first preconception.
He found a spot on one of the middle rows, on the edge to not draw attention to him. The personalities he could see around the room were all different. There were the nervous ones, bouncing in their seats—maybe it was anxiety, maybe it was abstinence. The tired ones seemed to be the majority. He fitted into that group himself—tired of life. You also had the desperate ones, sitting in the front, almost leaning forward to better grasp whatever words of wisdom were being said.
Guilt seemed to be a theme for everyone.
One after one the facilitator let people go up and speak at a makeshift lectern. Some just gave little updates, giving Oscar the impression that they’d gone to meetings for a long time. Others were speaking up for the first time. One that stood out was a mother, maybe in her fifties, whose daughter had just passed away in a car accident. She cried as she spoke, searching for some way of dealing with the guilt she felt, having let her daughter borrow her car even though she knew it was old and unsafe.
This was around the time when Oscar thought to himself that he should just take the money he had, find a way out of his contract, emigrate to Iceland, and change his name to Fabio. Never ever have to think about a race car again.
People were going on about their lives, their regrets, their struggles with addictions, or just their attempts to survive whatever the world had thrown at them. But none of it really resonated with him. Oscar didn’t feel like he belonged here. His problems felt different. And he wasn’t sure if that was because they actually were different or because he just couldn’t find the right words to describe them.
At some point, his gaze shifted toward the back of the room, and that was when he noticed you.
A girl his own age. You were sitting there, apart from everyone else, half-hidden in the shadows near the exit. You looked like you didn’t want to be seen—shoulders hunched, sat far down in your seat. You stared at your hands, fidgeting with skin around your nails. Oscar could spot your chipped black nail polish from across the room. He had a hard time reading your face, mostly obscured by your hair and the collar of your jacket.
He couldn’t help but wonder why you were here. He wondered it about everyone else too, but you stuck out since you were similar in age—young enough that people didn’t automatically assume that you’d gone through hardship. You looked… different. Troubled, maybe. Definitely out of place.
Oscar forced himself to look away, trying to focus on the group facilitator, who was droning on about acceptance and healing. He felt restless, a creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Why had he even come? This place didn’t feel like it could fix anything.
By the time the session ended, he hadn’t spoken a word.
As the last of the attendees dispersed, Oscar lingered under the arched entrance, watching the downpour. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, offering him some warmth from the cold rain. A faint glow from distant streetlights illuminated the soaked pavement, creating an eerie atmosphere that somehow felt fitting.
That’s when he saw you again, as the heavy church doors closed behind him with a slight thud. You were the last one out of the building. Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar saw you light a cigarette. His eyes met yours briefly, but you were quick to look away.
You exhaled smoke, sitting down on the stone steps leading up to the entrance, letting single raindrops fall onto your leather jacket, while still being mostly covered by the awning.
For a second, Oscar thought about walking away. He didn’t know you—he didn’t know anyone here—but something kept him rooted to the spot. Maybe it was because he knew he would need to talk to someone here, not easily getting away from the mandated meetings. Maybe it was because you looked so damned lost.
Either way, he found himself speaking before he could stop himself.
“Uh,” he started awkwardly. “I like your stockings.”
You blinked, glancing down at your legs. Through the rips in your jeans, a pair of sheer black stockings peeked out, the floral lace pattern barely visible. You didn’t say anything right away, just stared at him with a look that was half-surprised, half-annoyed. Then, you blew out smoke from between your lips.
“Thanks,” you muttered.
Oscar shifted uncomfortably, unsure if he should leave or try to salvage the moment. Why had he said that? He wasn’t good at small talk, never had been. He had no idea why he thought this was the time to start improving that skill.
You let out a low chuckle, almost like you were laughing at him. Wordlessly, you asked him if he wanted a cigarette, lifting the carton up in his direction.
He shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”
You took another drag, shrugging your shoulders, basically saying suit yourself to him. With your gaze turned back to the ground, the silence stretched on awkwardly, only broken by the sound of raindrops splattering against the asphalt.
“Aren’t white lighters supposed to be bad luck?” he asked suddenly, noticing the bright plastic you were flicking between your fingers. He’d heard that somewhere, an old superstition and coincidence—that a group of famous people who had died at a young age all had white lighters in their possession. It was a stupid thing to say, but it felt better than nothing.
You looked down at the lighter in your hand and then back at Oscar, a humourless smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe that’s the fucking point.”
Oscar didn’t know what to say to that. He wondered if you actually meant it—that bad luck didn’t matter to you, like you almost welcomed it. He wasn’t sure he believed in luck in that sense anyway. To him, life felt more like a balance of choices and chances, not fortune’s favour. But sometimes, maybe when the stars aligned and all that palaver, he believed in luck and he believed in doing the right thing to experience that luck.
Call it superstition, if you must.
The both of you continued to stand there in silence. Well, technically, you were still sitting. Two strangers, clinging to the building that was supposedly about to fix them, all while not really knowing if they even wanted to be fixed.
After a few long moments, you stood up, stubbing out the cigarette on the wet stone. You stuffed your hands into your pockets, casting him one last glance before heading out into the rain. The water immediately soaked your hair, but you didn’t seem to care. You hopped into a car that had pulled up at the end of the parking lot, an older woman in the driver seat.
You left him without a word and a strange feeling inside of him—like this situation wasn’t already odd enough.
_______________________________
You put out your cigarette as you reached the entrance of the church, again. Just another Tuesday in your life. You’d lost count on how long you had been going to these meetings. Two hours every Tuesday and one hour every Sunday.
It was a bit of a lie, that you didn’t know how long it had been. You just didn’t want to know how long it had been and therefore told yourself to not think about it until you’d all but forgotten about it.
However, Oscar was a new addition to the meetings, for a month or so. Seeing him, seemingly waiting for you before going inside, was odd? But not uncommon by now.
You didn’t say anything as you walked up beside him on the church steps, only giving him a slight nod as a way of saying hello. You looked out over the parking lot, glistening wet from the rain that seemed to haunt this small town. You were practically lucky that it wasn’t raining at the moment.
Something about the parking lot was different today, though. It stood out like a diamond in a drawer of costume jewellery.
There, parked conspicuously at the curb, was a sleek McLaren. The kind of car that didn't belong in this part of town, especially not parked outside a church where people came to unload their emotional baggage.
As if reading your thoughts, Oscar caught you staring with raised brows. “What nobhead takes their McLaren to counselling?” you muttered under your breath, clearly not expecting him to hear. But he was close enough, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile.
He chuckled, a low, surprised sound. “That would be me.”
You blinked, not expecting it to be him, let alone be so direct about it. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Oscar chortled, shaking his head, like he found your frankness refreshing, if not amusing, as though he wasn’t often spoken to like that.
“Yeah, it’s a dickish thing to do,” you admitted, giving him a half shrug. You couldn’t help but smile a little, though. He had a way of taking the sting out of your sharp words, as if he didn’t mind your snark.
You’d quite frankly been rude to him at a few of the former meetings, yet he still didn’t mind sitting in silence next to you for two hours every Tuesday. You were both here, after all—both stuck, both dealing with whatever mess had brought you to therapy.
The last few sessions had been the same—catching each other’s eye as you sat in the back of the room, listening to people’s stories. Neither of you said much during the meetings, but you always seemed to find each other afterward, just outside the church, where the air felt a little less suffocating. You smoked, and Oscar just stood there, pretending not to be bothered by the cold weather.
It had become something of a routine. You weren’t friends, exactly, but there was a strange sort of understanding between you. Tonight was no different as the meeting started.
You slipped into your usual spot near the back, watching as Oscar settled in a seat nearby. The room was filled with voices, people exchanging quick pleasantries before it started, just like every week, with people telling their stories.
You’d gone to meetings for such a long time that you knew the backstories of most people. It had been so long that some regulars had even stopped going, claiming they were fixed. Or at least fixed enough. You guessed that was the real goal—to not completely overcome trauma but to learn how to live with it. Then there were the people who were mandated to be there, by their workplace or by a court order. They were more hesitant than the people who went by their own free will, but their stories were always better when they finally got to talking, more interesting to listen to.
“Have you ever gone up there?” Oscar whispered at one point, curious.
“Nope,” you replied without hesitation, not looking at him. “They can force me to be here, but they can’t force me to talk.”
He looked at you for a moment, head tilted slightly, like he wanted to ask more but thought better of it. You could practically feel the question hanging in the air—who the fuck were they?—but he didn’t press. Instead, he glanced around the room again.
You liked that he didn’t push. That meant you didn’t have to lie to him.
There was an unspoken rule in these circles. Speak, or don’t, but never fake it. It couldn’t be about pretending, and for now, silence was as close as either of you seemed willing to come to honesty.
When the session ended, you found yourselves once again standing on the church steps, the night air brisk and cutting. You fumbled with a cigarette, attempting to light it against the persistent wind. Oscar lingered nearby, hands in his pockets, as he watched your futile attempts, half amused.
“Not getting picked up today?” he asked.
You shook your head, giving up on the cigarette and putting the lighter and carton back into the pocket of your jacket.
Oscar hesitated for a second, unsure whether to say anything. He was starting to feel that familiar awkwardness creep back in, the same feeling he’d had the first time he spoke to you. But before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I could give you a lift.”
You shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m not sleeping with you, Oscar,” you said flatly.
Oscar’s eyes widened, and he spluttered, “W-what? No! That’s not—” He stumbled over his words, horrified.
You raised a brow, watching as he struggled to find his words. He was blushing, his ears practically glowing red under the streetlight. “You offered to drive me home without ulterior motives?” you asked, sceptical.
“Yes, I was just trying to be nice,” he said firmly, but flustered. “Do guys from therapy usually hit on you?”
You let out a dry laugh, almost feeling guilty for your wrong assumption about him. “You’d be surprised at how many men find head-cases attractive.”
He only became more embarrassed, his mind flashing back to the first thing he’d ever said to you—a compliment on your stockings, of all things.
There was a vulnerability to him you hadn’t expected—something behind the stubborn façade and expensive car. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who was used to rejection. Or awkwardness. Or therapy, for that matter. But his loser personality made all of those things very possible.
“Well… I just wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said, shifting awkwardly.
You studied him for a moment, weighing his words. Then, with a sigh, you jerked your head toward the McLaren. “Fine. Start the fucking car.”
Inside the car, the quiet was different, somehow more suffocating than outside on the church steps. Maybe it was the notion of having to actually talk to each other now that hadn’t felt as forced outside of the car.
“So, where to?” Oscar asked, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary.
You glanced out the window, your fingers tapping idly on the door handle, almost scared to touch the absurdly shiny car. “Do you know the council houses behind the post office?”
“By that one pub? With the—”
“The Swan, yes that’s the one,” you interrupted. “My aunt lives right there.”
Oscar nodded, pulling away from the curb and heading in the direction you’d indicated. You kept your gaze fixated out the window as the car began to move. The streets passed by in a blur, the rain-slicked asphalt reflecting the dim glow of the town’s yellow lights.
“Aunt?” he asked after a beat of silence. “Parents not around?”
You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, Oscar thought he’d overstepped, thought you were going to turn to a rudeness that he couldn’t joke his way out of.
Then, quietly, you muttered, “I think I am the one who’s not around.”
He heard you clearly, but he didn’t press further. He didn’t try to fill the space with meaningless chatter, and for that, you were both grateful. For a moment, it was peaceful, almost as if you were just two people out for a casual drive instead of a pair of strangers bound by a not-so-positive common denominator.
As the car approached the run-down council houses, you unbuckled your seatbelt but didn’t immediately move to get out. Instead, you turned to him, studying his profile in the low light, something unreadable in your expression.
“Thanks,” you said after a moment.
“For the ride?” he asked.
“For not being a complete dick,” you replied as you pushed open the door and stepped out into the cold. You didn’t look back, but you knew that he was smiling behind you.
_______________________________
The following week, you were late. Not late enough for it to actually be a problem, but late enough that Oscar felt the awkward tension of deciding whether to wait for you outside like he usually did or go inside. He definitely could have waited, but he was particular about time, so he went in.
Oscar glanced around the room, sitting somewhere in the middle now that you hadn’t decided seats for the two of you. He noticed the faces that had become a strange sort of fixture in his life over the past months.
The season had started and it was going fairly well. He had thoughts of disaster almost every weekend, but he didn’t hear Charles’ screaming as often. It was usually worst during qualifying, when the short amount of time made the anxiety build up quicker. But he was stable. Even his therapist had said that. He wasn’t a danger in any way, but he still just wished to get an answer as to why this crash had affected him in the way that it did.
Your heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts, your Doc Martens making a thumping sound against the old hardwood flooring. You looked like a drenched, unhappy cat, caught in one of the town’s relentless downpours. For a moment, Oscar smiled; he hadn’t thought he’d ever see you sit anywhere but the back row, yet here you were, sliding into the empty seat next to him with a huff.
You took off your wet leather jacket and threw your bag on the floor, almost curling into your seat on the uncomfortable chair, a paper cup of hot water warming your hands. There was a station outside of the room with tea and coffee and you would grab a cup of tea for yourself before every meeting. Oscar had learnt that by now—also knowing that you brought your own tea bags since they only offered black tea and you drank rooibos. Oscar had lived in England for a long time, but the science behind drinking tea was still something that confused him.
You rubbed your face dry with the sleeves of your oversized sweater, not caring that your mascara smudged around your eyes. Oscar thought about offering his own hoodie, or at least a tissue, but you didn’t seem the type to want help with something so small. Instead, he kept quiet, simply watching as you tried to shake off the rain.
A beat of silence passed between you both. Then, you spoke first.
“You never come to the Sunday meetings.”
You tried to sound casual, but the question was deliberate; it was thought through. He glanced at you, surprised. It wasn’t often that you were the one to initiate a conversation, and when you did, they were short and edged with sarcasm.
“Didn’t even know they had meetings during the weekend,” Oscar replied with a shrug. “I work most Sundays.”
“So do I, but I manage to show up here anyway.”
He noticed the way your eyes held his gaze, challenging but curious. You weren’t shy to look him straight in the eye, unlike himself. The light from the nearby windows cast a muted glow over you, softening the lines of your face, your smudged makeup giving you a look of tiredness that felt familiar to him.
It was like you were waiting, expecting him to talk again, and he felt that familiar twist of unease, a reminder that vulnerability wasn’t something he navigated easily. A hint of a smile crossed Oscar’s face as he looked away, not sure how much to say.
Today’s meeting wasn’t much different from all the others. There was the mother who dealt with guilt after losing her daughter in a car crash. There was Anthony, a local restaurant owner, who was there as part of his probation plan after an assault charge. There was Jenny, a girl in her thirties who was mandated by her therapist to be there as exposure for her agoraphobia. It was definitely ironic that the girl with a social anxiety disorder did more talking than you and Oscar combined.
During a brief five-minute break, Oscar looked over at you again, seemingly lost in your thoughts.
“You think you’ll ever get up there?” he asked, nodding toward the lectern.
Oscar knew he had asked similar questions before, but this one was more to ask if you thought this group counselling thing would ever lead to you opening up—if you saw an end to these countless meetings by actually letting them help you, letting them make you feel better.
“No,” you answered flatly. “Opening up to strangers is weird.”
He smiled at that. “I think this is supposed to have the opposite effect,” he said, crossing his arms. “That it’s easier with strangers because we won’t feel judged in the same way.”
You looked up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Keep talking Oscar, and we won’t be strangers by the end of this.”
He laughed, shaking his head. There was a subtle humour to your banter, like you both enjoyed pushing boundaries without really crossing them. Oscar settled on the idea that he didn’t want you two to be strangers after all.
As the meeting came to a close, people began to shuffle out, some lingering to chat with one another, others heading straight for the door. You, as usual, made your way outside without a word. Oscar followed, as he always did, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that it didn’t feel like a coincidence.
He never knew why he lingered. He wasn’t even sure if you wanted him to. But the silence you shared after group therapy felt easier than the forced vulnerability inside.
Outside, the air was crisp, the rain from earlier having tapered off, leaving the ground damp and slick, the sun breaking through the clouds. You leant against the stone wall of the church, lighting another cigarette with the same white lighter he’d seen you use before.
Oscar frowned slightly, feeling a strange sense of unease creep into his chest as he watched you. He wasn’t entirely sure why he cared, but before he could stop himself, he spoke up. “Can you stop buying white lighters, please?”
You raised your brows, almost mocking him. “Why? Are you superstitious?”
“No,” Oscar replied, shaking his head. “It just feels like a weird thing to jeopardise.”
“What do you know about the 27 club anyway?” you asked, taking another drag. You were mindful enough to turn your head in the opposite direction as you blew out the smoke.
The 27 Club—a bunch of musicians, mostly rockstars, who had died at the age of 27 due to rough lifestyles. Rumour had it that they all used white lighters for their cigarettes and other smokeable substances. Oscar didn’t know anything about their music or the club they were in. He just knew of the rumour.
“Literally nothing except that they died carrying white lighters,” Oscar admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And that you deserve to live way past the age of 27.”
You blinked, taken aback, and for a moment, the armour you wore around yourself seemed to crack. You stared at him, cigarette halfway to your lips, processing what he’d just said.
“Who knew you could be so sweet?” you teased, trying to be your usual sarcastic self, but there was a warmth in your voice that hadn’t been there before. That tiny hint of warmth made his chest feel strangely tight.
A few moments passed in comfortable silence before you broke it; your voice quieter now. “Why do you keep coming here anyway? You don’t talk much either. So why show up?”
Oscar hesitated, unsure how much to say. He wasn’t a stranger to lying about his job to people, often times just because he couldn’t be arsed to explain or have people ask if he was rich and famous. It wasn’t like that with you, but he still decided to lie—or opt out of telling the entire truth. He wanted you to think he was normal.
“I’m mandated to be here by my workplace,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I caused a car accident with a colleague of mine, and I kind of need to be able to drive to keep my job.”
You frowned in confusion. “But you drove me home? Are you scared of driving?”
“It’s… different,” he admitted. “Driving long distances for work or just around in this little hellhole.”
You studied him for a long moment, as if weighing his words. Then, in a surprisingly gentle tone, you asked, “Do you like… get flashbacks of the crash and blame yourself all over again?”
Oscar nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah, I guess it’s like that. I keep replaying it, even though my colleague was fine. It’s like this… loop in my head, where I keep imagining every possible way it could have gone worse. Murphy’s Law, you know? Like, I can’t help but think of every possible mistake I could make.”
“Murphy’s Law is about engineering, though,” you pointed out. “You can’t just apply that to your everyday life. It’ll turn you into an impossible perfectionist, constantly waiting for everything to fall apart.”
Oscar smiled, appreciating the unexpected insight. It reminded him of how little you knew about him, since, y’know, he hadn’t told you the truth—that engineering actually was involved in his everyday life. And yet, somehow, you still seemed to understand. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and he found himself wondering what other surprises you might be hiding.
You stubbed out your cigarette, bending down and reaching into your bag for a piece of chewing gum. He watched as you unwrapped it, slipping it into your mouth, the familiar scent of artificial strawberry filling the air. It was a ritual he’d seen before, almost like you were trying to erase the smell of smoke as quickly as you’d created it. The action was so practiced, and he found himself charmed by the small, sort of endearing quirk.
“You’re not gonna ask me why I keep on showing up here?” you asked, looking wondering up at Oscar, mumbling slightly as you chewed to get the gum soft.
He glanced at you with a faint smile. “You’ll tell me when you feel comfortable enough. I know that.”
A soft, almost approving nod was your only response.
“There’s my ride,” you murmured as a car drove into the parking lot—the same car he’d seen many times before, the same old woman driving. He could now assume it was your aunt. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then.”
Oscar stumbled on his words as he tried to say goodbye to you, caught off guard by how you almost skipped down the church stairs, looking happier than ever. It was a weird juxtaposition, because you obviously weren’t—happier than ever, that is. You actually dared to look back at him, smiling as you walked over the parking lot. The mascara still sat heavy under your eyes as light shone down on you from the clouds breaking above, and in that moment, you looked like the saddest thing under the sun.
After the car had driven away, Oscar stood still with his thoughts outside the church for a second. He had to look into the weekend meetings. Even if he could never attend them himself, he needed to know why they were important enough for you to mention them to him.
With a last glance toward the parking lot, he went back inside, his eyes drifting toward the bulletin board in the hallway. Various flyers covered its surface. The community really tried its hardest, offering support groups for just about anything—newly becoming parents, cancer survival, dealing with grief and death.
Oscar looked at the schedules, most of them being on weekdays. However, anonymous groups for recovering alcoholics and narcotics were on Saturdays, respectively, Sundays.
It didn’t take long for Oscar to understand.
He also understood why you had asked him. You wanted to know if you had another thing in common other than the group meetings. You hadn’t known he was there because of a car crash, so in your mind he might as well have been there for other issues, like drugs or alcohol.
Oscar didn’t know your full story. He didn’t know why you were here, why you kept showing up week after week, or what had led you to seek out meetings. But he did know one thing: you weren’t as unreachable as you pretended to be, and he was willing to wait until you felt ready to show him the parts of yourself you’d kept hidden.
_______________________________
The soft clink of glasses and low murmur of voices filled the pub as you wiped down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time that day, your hands moving out of habit, eyes scanning the sparse crowd. Picking up an afternoon shift instead of the night shift wasn’t something you normally did, just for that reason. It was the same amount of hours, but it felt a lot longer since the customers were fewer. Thankfully, the evening crowd was starting to build up.
A woman sat at the counter, maybe ten years older than you, her fingers tracing the rim of an empty glass, her gaze flitting between the door and her phone. She had a nervous look and was dressed too nicely for the pub. You knew the type—the first daters—planning nights to the last detail, hoping for it to go well but preparing for disaster.
“Waiting for someone?” you asked, offering to take her glass.
“Yeah, a first date. I needed some liquid courage in advance,” she replied with a tight smile.
“Well, you look gorgeous,” you assured, showing her a genuine smile. “If they turn out to be a wanker, just come up and order an angel shot and I’ll help you out of here.”
Her smile widened, a bit more relaxed now, as she thanked you.
You made a point to watch over her as your shift went on. Her date arrived shortly after, looking just as nervous as she did. You let yourself relax; at least he wasn’t a no-show, and he didn’t look like the type to catfish someone. In fact, he looked almost as nervous as she did, and you found yourself rooting for them.
Working in a gritty pub had never been your dream, but it was what your CV got you at this point in life. You had tried living in London, making ends meet by working at a cocktail bar, but you had crash-landed back in your hometown, like big time crashing.
Thankfully, the owner of The Swan hadn’t looked too closely into your past, or he at least didn’t care. You knew how to pour a pint, you knew how to clean up, and you knew how to deal with rowdy drunk people. That made you a top employee.
You moved on autopilot around the familiar bar with its familiar patrons. Some old, who frequented the bar even on weekdays, and some young, who you mostly saw on weekends.
You had learnt to listen to some and to eavesdrop on others. Like, you knew all about Denny’s divorce and custody battle because he sat by the bar and went on and on about it as he downed London Prides. But you had to eavesdrop to know that the group of girls who came in after work on Fridays had finally staged an intervention for their friend who put up with too much shit from her boyfriend.
Little things like that made bartending enjoyable.
Other things—like loud groups of lads your own age—almost always made it less enjoyable. That was why you felt a tiredness fall over you like an anvil in a slapstick comedy when you, even with your back turned to the door, could hear them enter. You let out a resigned sigh, knowing that the evening was about to take a livelier turn, and maybe not for the better.
However, they weren’t the usual group that gave you and your colleagues trouble. This were customers you’d never seen before. Strange for being such a small town with only The Swan and two other pubs. Sure, the boys were loud as they came to the bar to order from your colleague, but they were patient and not overly rude.
You froze in surprise.
You felt your grip slip from the glass you were holding, almost dropping it. While his friends filed up to the bar with an eagerness for drinks, Oscar lingered, his eyes darting around the room before landing on you. The shocked look on his face was almost priceless. He looked as startled as you felt, his eyes widening briefly as they locked onto yours.
He seemed out of place in the gritty atmosphere of the pub—too put-together, too polished. You knew he wasn’t British from his strong accent, and you knew he wasn’t the most outgoing type from his well… personality. He didn’t belong in here, but for some reason his friends had waltzed right in to The Swan, never having done so before.
You were scared to think about why, but deep down you knew.
Before your colleague could ask him for his order, you stepped forward. You wiped your hands on a towel and raised an eyebrow. “You lost?” you teased lightly, leaning against the bar.
Oscar’s friends were still gathering their drinks, a couple of them glancing your way with open curiosity. Your colleague doing the same, knowing full well that you would have to explain this to them afterwards.
Oscar smiled back, a bit shyly. “No, just… here with some friends.” He gestured vaguely behind him, looking mildly uncomfortable.
“So,” you said, folding your arms. “What can I get you?”
Oscar chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not drinking tonight. Just…moral support, I guess.”
“You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
For a moment, you both stood there, the noise around you fading into the background.
His friends soon called after him to join them at their table and you had a job to do. As you moved around the bar, greeting regulars, wiping down counters, and handing out drinks, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Oscar was still there, his presence lingering even when he was out of view.
Each time you glanced over at their table, you caught him glancing back. The first few times he seemed nervous to be caught, but when he realised how often you looked at him, he really had nothing to be ashamed of if he stared back at you.
After a while, the place grew livelier, and you lost sight of him in the ebb and flow of customers, the noise picking up as more people filled the seats. The usual rowdiness of a Saturday night began to take hold.
Eventually, you saw his friends begin to gather their things, settling their tabs, pulling on jackets, and nudging each other as they headed out. You felt yourself get stuck in your steps behind the bar as you watched Oscar stand up from his seat. He exchanged a few words with his friends as they left, but he stayed, earning what you assumed were amused laughs and some crude comments.
Oscar waited a moment, watching them go, before he turned his gaze toward the bar. You tried to make yourself seem busy, cleaning a counter that wasn’t even dirty. You felt a flicker of nerves as he approached, unsure if you should be the first to talk. He sat down on an empty bar stool next to Denny. He didn’t have to dare to look at you because you already had all of his attention.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you this long without a cigarette before, y’know,” he said, breaking the silence.
You rolled your eyes, smirking. “I only smoke when I’m stressed, which is less often than you’d think.”
Oscar’s smile lingered, a warm glint in his eyes that hinted that he understood that the only time he saw you was at the group meetings and that they were the thing that caused you stress to the point where you felt the need to smoke. You wouldn’t even consider yourself a nicotine addict. However, of all things, nicotine wouldn’t be the worst thing to admit that you were addicted to.
Your conversation was briefly interrupted by your other patrons, like Denny, who flagged you down for another pint. You poured his drink wordlessly, and Oscar waited, his presence somehow calming amidst the usual chaos of the bar.
The couple you’d served earlier—the first-daters—approached to settle their tab.
“That looked successful,” you remarked with a friendly smile, referring to their date.
“Yeah, honestly green flags all around,” she replied, throwing her date a soft smile as he took out his wallet. “Thanks for the angel shot advice, though.”
You smiled. “Glad you didn’t need to use it.”
The woman chuckled, her eyes twinkling as she looked from you to Oscar, as if piecing something together. She tilted her head toward you. “Do… you need an angel shot yourself?”
“For this bloke?” you asked in surprise, pointing at Oscar. “Nah, I can handle him myself.”
The woman nodded, smiling in amusement as she gave Oscar another once-over before heading out with her date, holding hands. Oscar, who had been listening to the entire exchange with a bemused expression, raised an eyebrow.
“What’s an angel shot?” he asked.
“It’s a code we use for people on bad dates,” you explained with a shrug. “If they order one, it means they need help, and I step in. It’s a subtle way for someone to signal they’re uncomfortable without making a scene.”
Oscar’s eyes widened slightly in understanding, and he nodded. “That’s pretty smart.”
“Yeah, it can be useful. When I worked at a cocktail bar in London we had to use it almost every night. This place is a lot calmer.”
You knew it, Oscar knew it too—that rich people drinking Negronis at a rooftop bar in London were more troublesome once they got drunk than what people like Denny did once they were in on their seventh pint of the evening in a small town pub.
There was a brief lull in the conversation, the uncomfortable kind where you just waited for someone to break the silence. Oscar’s fingers tapped lightly on the bar, and he seemed lost in thought for a moment before, as if summoning courage, he spoke again, his voice a bit hesitant.
“So… when are you off?”
“In…” you stopped to check the clock on the wall behind you. “Three minutes.”
Oscar shifted, clearly nervous. “Do you want to maybe hang out? Get dinner or something?”
You blinked, taken off guard. He looked so uncomfortable. It was endearing in a way you hadn’t expected. He was as unsure of himself as anyone else was.
Oscar, meanwhile, felt as though he was the world’s worst at this. It was no wonder he never had casual things like Lando seemed to have every other weekend, one night stand after one night stand. Not that Oscar necessarily wanted that, but to even feel like he had the possibility to ask someone out would’ve been nice.
“I mean, if you’re up for it,” he added quickly, tripping over his words. “Like, we don’t have to or anything. I just thought—”
You cut him off with an uncharacteristic giggle, the sound breaking through the tension. “Only if I can use your shower. I smell like cheap beer and fryer oil,” you said, lifting your t-shirt with the pub’s swan logo on it to your nose, grimacing at the smell.
“Oh,” he breathed, his face lighting up in relief. “Absolutely.”
You tossed the towel onto the counter, giving him a playful smile as you stepped around the bar to join him. “But I’ll let you know,” you said, lowering your voice, “you shouldn’t hang out with someone like me. I’ll defile you.”
“I’m not as innocent as I act,” he said teasingly, but he wasn’t even sure if he believed his own words, let alone did he fool you.
_______________________________
Oscar sat like a sociopath on the sofa waiting for you to finish showering. He was not sure his posture had even been this good. You’d made your way to his flat after your shift had ended. He’d offered you his shower and clothes while he said he’d fix the rest. However, every film he could think of watching seemed pathetic. Every type of food he could think of ordering seemed disgusting. He hadn’t exactly thought this through when he asked you to hang out. He hadn’t expected it to be so… casual? Or maybe easy? Like you actually wanted to be here, in his flat, spending the evening with him.
He was probably overthinking this—no, he was overthinking this. But how could he not? He tried so hard to not think of the fact that you were wet and naked just a wall away, but he was pretty sure his brain broke in the process. Every detail was suddenly monumental, as though he was a teenager again.
The faint sound of the shower stopped, and he quickly sat up straighter, mentally scolding himself to look less… tense. He wasn’t sure he was pulling it off. He could hear the bathroom door open, and then you were padding down the hall, and he practically whipped his head around to see you.
You were wearing one of his favourite shirts, the maroon fabric hanging over your frame, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was still damp, small droplets darkening the shirt where they fell. The sweatpants you’d borrowed were too long, so you’d tucked them into your socks—baby pink, fuzzy socks with little red hearts on them. The socks were definitely not Oscar’s. He couldn’t believe that was what you were hiding under your Doc Martens.
Oscar blinked, trying to reconcile the idea that this—this ridiculously adorable version of you—was the same person who’d honestly scared him during your first conversation.
“Cute socks,” he chuckled, unable to stop himself.
“Shut up,” you muttered, hiding a smile, before flopping down on the sofa next to him, already more casual than Oscar could ever be. “What are we watching?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was acutely aware of how close you were, your leg brushing against his as you made yourself comfortable. You didn’t hesitate to grab a blanket that was thrown over the back of the sofa, cuddling into it as you wrapped it around yourself.
“We could watch… uh, anything you want,” Oscar finally managed.
You rolled your eyes, sinking into the sofa cushions. “If you let me pick, it’s going to be something dumb.”
“I’m okay with dumb.”
Your lips curled into a smile, but you didn’t say anything as you leant forward to grab the remote. Oscar sat there, watching as you navigated through streaming options. You were on the hunt for something specific, he noticed. Right in on Disney+ and quickly you searched for…Brother Bear?
Oscar’s brow lifted in surprise, but he didn’t question it. In a way, it felt perfectly fitting. He let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and settled into the cushions, letting himself ease into the film, into the quiet comfort of the moment.
You both ordered pizza that arrived sometime in the middle of the film. You liked pineapple on pizza, but he guessed he could overlook it. Especially if it meant you were here, sitting beside him, taking a bite with a content look on your face.
You’d grown soft around the edges, for him. This was domestic, bordering on romantic. The girl he had first met—cigarette and white lighter in hand—would’ve never admitted to liking Disney films and to wearing pink fuzzy socks.
When the pizza was finished and the movie neared its end, you laid down in the corner of his L-shaped sofa, blanket fully surrounding you. Oscar wanted to scoot over, closer to you, maybe put your feet in his lap, but he hesitated, scared to cross boundaries. He chewed the inside of his cheek, lost in thought, hoping that his nerves would miraculously disappear.
And then you made a sound—a soft, involuntary awe that escaped your lips during the scene where Koda, the little bear cub, was reunited with his deceased mother through some sort of glowing spirits in the sky. Oscar had to admit that even though he’d seen this film as a kid, the plot was now completely lost on him because of you.
It was cute. Like, painfully cute, and Oscar felt that weird mix of cute aggression, where something is so adorable you just want to squeeze it. Instead, he let himself simply watch you, taking in the way your eyes glistened and your mouth parted slightly, as if you’d forgotten everything around you, wrapped up in this world of animated magic. He mentally cursed himself when you caught him looking.
“Why are you staring at me?” you muttered.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” Oscar teased and smiled boyishly.
“Shut up, I do not,” you shot back, rubbing your eyes with your fingers. You were sharp enough to draw blood, and he was somehow always left unscathed.
He couldn’t help but smile wider, watching as you tried to hide your embarrassment. In a brave moment, he moved closer, daring to take a hold of your wrist so that you couldn’t hide from him. Your eyes were shining and a couple of your eyelashes had clumped together from the moisture.
“It’s okay to cry to movies,” he said, nudging you gently. “Especially one’s about animated animals.”
“I am not crying. Not even close,” you insisted, laughing, sinking further into the sofa, pulling the blanket up to your chin.
You moved to the side and somehow, Oscar felt himself fitting naturally into the space behind you. He felt something shift inside him, a strange warmth settling in his chest. This was soft, quiet, almost painfully domestic. Yet it was real. You were here, cuddled up on his sofa, wrapped in his blanket, wearing his clothes, and laughing at something he’d said.
Neither of you said another word as you moved to lay together like you’d done it a million times before. He found his arm moving to wrap around you, pulling you in closer until your back was touching his chest. You lifted the blanket to cover him partly too. The movie rolled through its final scenes, and Oscar found himself paying even less attention now that you were literally touching him.
“You’re gonna stay there?” you whispered as the end credits rolled.
“Yeah, we’re watching the sequel.”
But neither of you moved to get the remote.
After a still moment, with a deep breath you moved to lay on your back. You glanced up at him, your gaze holding his for a long moment. Oscar didn’t dare look away, even if his confidence told him to do it. At least it was easier to look you in the eye than to take in the rest of you.
His heart picked up when you adjusted yourself, the blanket slipping from your shoulders and the maroon fabric of his shirt shifted slightly, revealing the outline of your body beneath. Your breasts moved gently, and he couldn’t help but notice the lack of anything underneath the soft cotton. His throat felt tight, and suddenly, every molecule of air around him seemed saturated with the scent of you.
Then, he realised that the scent of you was actually the scent of his laundry detergent and the soap he kept in his shower mixed with something that was uniquely you. And oh, how Oscar hated being a man. Was he really pathetic enough to pop a boner because you smelled good?
His body reacted before his brain could process it, betraying him in ways that were anything but subtle—warm and spreading, settling quickly. He shifted uncomfortably, moving his legs in a feeble attempt to hide the evidence of just how much you affected him.
“Oscar…” Your voice was soft, questioning.
He shook his head, looking anywhere but at you as he managed to respond. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said, mortified. His face burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe this was happening—couldn’t believe he was that guy right now.
“You don’t have to apologise,” you whispered, and you still weren’t scared to look him in the eye. Oscar for once wished you were.
“Yes, I do. It kind of ruins the mood,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Your expression softened and then you shifted to give him a bit of space. In the process, you nearly tipped off the edge of the sofa, and instinctively, Oscar reached out, his hand steadying you by your arm. The warmth of your skin under his touch sent a spark up through his palm, grounding him, but he couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt if he’d made you uncomfortable.
“Ugh… it’s just…you just smell good, and you’re wearing my shirt, and your skin is the softest thing ever, and I can’t think straight—” he stopped himself abruptly.
A laugh escaped your lips, soft but warm, and Oscar froze, unsure if he’d actually said all that aloud or if his brain had finally imploded.
“What are you doing?” you asked, tilting your head as you watched Oscar suddenly move away from you, sitting up in an awkward half-way position with the limited space he had behind you. It probably looked like he was about to bolt out of the flat out of sheer embarrassment.
“What am I doing?” He frowned. “I just—I don’t want you… I mean, you shouldn’t have to, y’know, feel it.”
At that, your smile deepened, and you moved your legs, spreading them just enough to make space for him to settle between them, throwing the blanket off the sofa.
“Oscar, can you… just calm down for a second?” you said gently, meeting his gaze with a reassuring look. “I’m not appalled by it, y’know? But you’re acting like I should be.”
His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he looked at you, processing your words. You didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. It was in this moment that Oscar also realised the position you were in, with him between your legs, fighting with his arm propped up to not fall flatly over your body. You weren’t scared to brush his sides by shutting your thighs just the slightest.
“You’re okay with this?” he felt the need to ask.
“I am.”
Oscar let his eyes linger for the first time, deciding for once to let the awkwardness melt away. And just like always, your eyes were on him, almost shamelessly scanning his broad shoulders and the way the fabric of his grey sweatpants stretched.
The shirt you’d borrowed had ridden up slightly, revealing your soft stomach and the hem of your underwear—a black cotton thong, the thin material peeking out. What was the frontal version of a whale-tail called? When the elastics sank into the soft parts of your hips and showed on either side above the waistband of your sweatpants.
Yeah, Oscar’s brain was definitely broken.
His mind spun, grasping for words, but all he managed was a shaky breath as he leaned in, like he couldn’t believe that he was seeing it, that he was this close. The air brushed against your skin. His mouth was as dry as a desert. You inhaled so sharply that he could hear it and see your stomach rising. He was eye level with your belly button and he decided upon… kissing it. Or right next to it, on the softest part of your stomach, the world narrowing down to just that patch of skin.
He looked up for reassurance, and you just smiled. A perfectly content smile where light sparkled in your eyes. Oscar’s hands found your waist as he kissed you again, his lips trailing gently across your stomach. Your skin was impossibly soft, practically melting into his hands.
Oscar’s next step was unplanned—like this entire thing—and maybe a bit silly, but when he was down there, kissing your stomach, he couldn’t help but want to venture higher up. So, like any other unreasonable person with hormones clouding their judgement, he stuck his head under your shirt, starting by kissing your ribs.
You let out something between a gasp and a giggle as your breathing picked up the higher up Oscar’s mouth wandered. Where your ribs connected in the middle of your chest, right where the skin was the thinnest, was where he started to gently suck and he earned his first moan. You could feel him start to smile as it escaped you.
When you looked down at him, all you could see was how his head stretched the fabric, and it was simply just humorous.
“I could just take my shirt off, y’know?” you teased, though you were out of breath.
”No,” he mumbled, lips brushing against your skin, an audible mwah leaving his mouth as he moved higher, planting a soft kiss in the valley between your breasts. “It’s warm under here.”
You let out a small laugh, your fingers resting on top of his head, the shirt still acting as a barrier as you felt his hair through it. “Wouldn’t have taken you for such a boob guy.”
Oscar closed his eyes as he felt your quiet laugher vibrate through your chest against his lips. Your breasts were practically lodged against his cheeks and he was definitely flushed red all over so it was actually convenient for him to be hidden under your shirt.
“Shut up,” was all he could manage to mutter.
He couldn’t hide anymore when he felt you pull the shirt up by the hem, first over his head and then swiftly over your own, it landing somewhere on the floor. Oscar was left laying there, chin resting against your sternum, feeling totally exposed as your eyes met his again. He didn’t dare to take in the sight of you shirtless, even though he was literally on top of your breasts.
And while he probably looked like a flustered mess, you looked totally unfazed.
“You motorboated me,” you exclaimed, laughter in your voice, “and you haven’t even kissed me on the mouth! Feels a bit backwards, don’t you think?”
Oscar chuckled, not having the time to think that he should be ashamed because of what you just insinuated. His hand moved to gently cup your cheek as he lifted himself to look at you.
“What I’m hearing is that you want to kiss me.”
He hated to sound cocky. He promised he really did. But with your jaw slacked and disbelief plastered on your face, he felt like he had said the right thing. You weren’t pushing him away, weren’t closing off the moment like he half-expected.
Instead, you were pulling him in.
If he thought your chest had been soft, your lips were like fucking velvet. It was like he was scared to touch you with how delicate you felt; with how softly you met his own lips. The initial connection was quick before he pulled away an inch or two to gather your reaction. With pure lust in your eyes, you were back to kissing him again before he had the chance to overthink what had just happened.
The kiss deepened slowly, a tender exploration of new territory, a silent acknowledgement that this—whatever this was—wasn’t just a one-off moment.
Oscar’s heart hammered in his chest as he shifted, his body now hovering over yours. His lips brushed against yours in a series of soft kisses. Then, before he knew it, your tongue was fighting his own. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in closer, and he let himself be totally absorbed by you.
And oh my god, you were shirtless beneath him. He struggled with where to place his hands, feeling strange holding your face for too long but scared to grip your bare waist with his wandering hands. But when he felt you push up towards him—your nipples rubbing his shirt, the soft flesh of your breast squished against his chest—Oscar felt like he could indulge fully.
With his forehead pressed against yours, Oscar pulled away and asked, “Do you want this to go further?”
You nodded first, swallowing your breath, before verbally saying a low and desperate yes too.
He wasn’t sure if he answered anything coherent or just let out a loud huff when he leant back down to kiss you. As his hands travelled up your body, you could feel goosebumps form under his fingertips. He stoked the underside of your breasts, taking in the way you reacted, before fully cupping them in his palms.
You tipped your head back between the sofa cushions as his lips moved down your jaw and neck, littering you with open-mouthed kisses. He towered over you, his lower body fitting perfectly with how your legs spread for him.
Oscar smiled as he grazed his teeth against your nipple, hearing you gasp at how he purposely teased you. And while he hadn’t thought about it like that before, you were definitely right with calling him a boob guy. Because fuck, could he spend his time adoring and fondling your soft tits, malleable in his hands and stimulating on his tongue. The way they perked up and became more sensitive with his touch was about to make him delirious.
And the sounds you were making—the gentle breathy groans—were better than any sound he’d ever heard before, practically deafening to his ears by how much he was concentrating on it. God, was he glad to have to turned on the sequel because having sex to Phil Collins wasn’t really on any bucket list. Especially not with how overwhelming he found your noises.
He released your nipple with a smacking sound, gazing at the attacked skin of your chest and neck. It would leave bruises, which made him feel even more like a horny teenager.
“Can you take your shirt off?” Your voice felt airy and small.
While your hands had already crept under to rake down his back as you were kissing, Oscar hadn’t exactly thought about the imbalance. He’d do just about anything to make you comfortable, meaning that his t-shirt soon joined yours on the floor.
He was an athlete, yet he hadn’t personally ever thought he looked like one. He’d never been one of those guys to confidently parade around without a shirt on in summer or post pictures of himself flexing in the gym. He just couldn’t do it.
But your eyes on him, the way you nestled your lower lip between your teeth, and how your hands immediately reached out to touch him… yeah, that was maybe the closest thing he’d felt to confidence in a long time.
“Do you feel okay?”
He wasn’t sure how his own voice would sound when he spoke again—dry and muffled, distracted by a million different things.
“Mhm,” you sighed out. “You wanna take off the rest of my clothes or should I do it myself?”
Oscar gulped at your forwardness, but he guessed he already knew that you wanted to take this further. So did he, like insanely. With fumbling fingers, he untied the drawstring on your sweatpants and worked them down your hips, until you laid there in front of him in just your thong and fuzzy socks.
He had sat up to take off his shirt, but he now nestled down between your legs again. There was no way in hell that he would last long inside of you, so he would need to please you beforehand. A gentleman, after all.
Oscar felt like he was about to die at the thought of going down on you, his blushing cheeks almost hurting from how warm they were. His hair was messy, his lips were kissed raw, and his pupils had dilated until all you could see in his eyes was darkness.
“Y’know you don’t have to—” you tried to tell him.
“What if I really want to?” he questioned, almost rhetorically. You didn’t fight him on it.
He kissed down your stomach until he came to the hem of your panties, absentmindedly rubbing soft circles on your hips and then down your thighs. There, his thoughts were simply reduced to the need to have you, in whatever way you allowed him.
You were impatient, while Oscar took his time to enjoy you. He tortuously dragged his lips across your thighs; the faint pattern of your skin looked like thin, pale lines spreading like lightning strikes. Once he dared to touch you over the fabric and feel the wetness that had soaked through, he could hear your breath hitch.
Slowly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your thong and dragged them down your legs, leaving them discarded on the floor with the other clothes. Fully naked, except the socks, but those were staying on, Oscar decided.
“Have I told you that you’re gorgeous yet?”
You were looking down at him with an expression akin to frustration—mouth slightly open and heavy breaths spilling out, almost scoffing at his cliché words. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as his own breaths hit your skin, blowing against your exposed heat. He pecked the stretched skin on your inner thigh to soothe you, stopping your writhing.
At a loss for what to do with your hands, they found their way down to his hair, weaving through his soft curls, tugging gently to get his attention.
“Osc…” you said with a simple breath.
That was really all Oscar needed—to hear you want him. That stupid little nickname was also something special. He hummed against you, feeling your reassurance as he kissed gently over your clit. And before you were able to complain for more, he latched his lips around it, suckling in a way that made your vision momentarily blank. His movements were tentative at first, unexperienced and lacking confidence.
“Oh, you’re so good,” you exhaled, praising him.
And there was something about the way you say it that just drove Oscar mad. It wasn’t that it felt good—it was that he was good. He got off on your reaction. It was as simple as that. It made him determined, building something with precise dramatics.
You felt his left hand grasp at the skin of your thigh, slowly inching upwards before he carefully sank a finger into you. Your hips twitched and you moan out loud as he played with you. He worked you open before adding another finger, his mouth never leaving your clit in the process. Even when your thighs fought to stay open, caging him between them, he didn’t falter. And every once in a while, when his eyes looked up to meet yours, you only felt yourself falling apart quicker.
His voice was low, the tone soft, when he mumbled something against your swollen cunt; something about how you tasted good. His free hand gently pressed down on your stomach to make you focus on the sensation—to feel his fingers ripping you apart from the inside out.
“God, fuckfuckfuck—” You were barely making sense of your own words as you bucked up against his mouth, completely buried over you, nose bumping your clit with his repeated motions.
Automatically, your hands grasped your breasts, fingers toying with your already sensitive nipples. Moving from your stomach, Oscar’s right hand was placed on your tits too, clasping his fingers over your own as he squeezed.
When you inevitably fell apart, he didn’t stop—not until you were a complete mess beneath him. Arching, white-hot, and expanding with intensity before his very eyes as he continued to softly lick. The way he was making out with your soaked core and babying your clit with the tip of his tongue would make one believe that this was a man who had never been shy or embarrassed over a single thing in his life.
And he wasn’t going to stop until you begged him.
With a pleasured and defeated “Oscar, please…” you were letting him know that he had done his job—that he had won you over in more ways than was necessary, that you were spent by him.
“I know,” he cooed, kissing your stomach. “I know.”
He moved to lay beside you, gently sliding his fingers out of you before tap, tap, tapping at your puffy clit, keeping his eyes steady at how you reacted. A slight hiss left your mouth before a hoarse laugher slipped out too. Your legs were still trembling from how intense your orgasm had been.
“You’re a mess,” you chuckled, raising a hand to brush his hair back then wiping his mouth with the back of your hand to clean him. “And a menace.”
“Well, so are you,” he smiled, kissing you on the mouth, neither of you caring about said mess.
You took a moment to breathe, and Oscar took a moment to think. While he couldn’t think straight, he could still come to the conclusion that this was such a good feeling—an overwhelmingly good feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe never before.
By now, his cock was painfully hard beneath his sweatpants, definitely having leaked pre-cum through his boxers. If it had been bad before, it was so many times worse now with you heaving next to him, naked and looking at him through your eyelashes. He was practically seeing stars, and you hadn’t even touched him where he ached the most.
It was almost unjustifiable the way he was feeling—someone should just tape a sign to his forehead that said practically a raging virgin and call it a day. He wasn’t one, just to clarify, but you made him feel like one.
Your hand trailed gently down his chest, your nails painted black like always. Oscar wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore. He wished he could react normally to your touch, but instead it was like his skin raised like a mountain range wherever your hand wandered, his eyes following your movements with a pitiful desperation.
And when your hand moved below the waistband of his sweatpants, resting gently over his boxers, and therefore his erection too, he wasn’t sure what exactly would happen to his body—something new, a biological error, or a supernatural phenomenon.
You were so close to him, pulling his trousers down in such a fashion that your legs almost clashed together while it happened. Then he was naked, and you turned quiet.
Abashedly, he tried to think about what he looked like from your perspective. He wondered if he was too thick or too thin, if he should’ve groomed better, or if his upper body was disproportionate to his legs, or if he smelled bad, if he was just plain weird, or—
“Holy shit,” you whispered.
“W-what?” Oscar stuttered.
While Oscar was busy analysing himself, you were gawking. Maybe people on TikTok would call it a ’sleeper-build’, but there was nothing subtle about it. His pale skin looked pretty in a flushed pink tone, easily scratching under your sharp nails. Broad shoulders, toned stomach, thick thighs. Your eyes couldn’t help but look lower and lower. The pure size of him sank in a second later.
“You’re… big,” you said like a matter of fact. “It’s been a while, so you’ll have to go slow.”
“W-what?” Oscar stuttered, again.
His eyes widened to the point where it strained them. Of all the things you could’ve said, that was probably the one he expected the least. He tried to read your face, waiting for more of an explanation.
With your brows furrowed, all you asked were, “You’re surprised that I haven’t had sex in a while?”
“No!” he hurried to say, not thinking about other implications his reaction could’ve had. He’d curse himself for eternity if you thought he meant to slut-shame you. “I’m surprised about the other… thing. No one’s ever said that before,” he gesticulated with his hand, unsure what to call the thing that had just happened.
You glanced up at his face to see that he was now sporting a smirk, letting you know that your words had gone completely to his ego. Motherfucker, was he pretty.
“I’m not sure I believe that,” you mumbled, kissing him again. Laying side to side next to each other on the sofa, both of your hands had grown eager to touch. It was waists and chests, up bare backs to tangle fingers in hair.
“I promise you that it’s the first time I hear that,” he mumbled back.
Your hand sneaked down between your bodies, and any cockiness that Oscar gained from his newfound ’big dick energy’ was washed away in seconds. A whimper. A fucking whimper was ripped from his throat as soon as your fingers were wrapped around him. He couldn’t stop himself. Your movements were slow and languid, spreading the beads of pre-cum around his tip with your thumb. Oscar closed his eyes as he tried to not fall apart instantly.
“How’s your pull-out game?” you asked between placing kisses on his neck and jaw. He had beautiful freckles and birthmarks all over his skin.
And, fuck, how Oscar couldn’t think when dirty words left your mouth.
“I—, Uhh… Not good?”
He let out a moan mid-sentence. He felt both pathetic and tortured as your delicate fingers kept stroking him up and down.
“I’m on birth control anyway.”
“I could go and get a condom,” he fought himself to say.
“Do you have one?” you questioned, and Oscar’s lack of an answer told you what you already knew. “I thought so.”
And while Oscar knew that he came across looser-like, he didn’t also need it to be so transparent to you. Even though he sort of liked the dynamic built between you. He had always liked that you were quick-witted and a little mean.
Oscar exhaled, concealing another moan with a breathy chuckle. “You need to stop making fun of me when I’m naked. It’s going to affect my self-esteem.”
“Can’t help it, you’re an easy target.” You quickly pecked his lips, a little laugher slipping out. “You’re also a very pretty target.”
He wasn’t used to being called pretty. His mum called him handsome. His instagram comments called him a polite cat. Pretty was entirely new territory. But he liked it, and impossibly, he blushed even harder.
“Are we really doing this?”
He just had to be sure, still in a bit of disbelief.
“Please,” you said. “Fuck me.”
Oscar propped himself on his elbow, placing it beside your head, caging you beneath him. He took himself in his hand, giving his cock a few slow stokes. He looked tortured, the tip pink and engorged as it curved up towards his stomach, a thatch of hair connecting to his faint happy trail.
The head of his cock sat heavy against your entrance as he aligned himself, and you felt yourself desperately clenching around nothing. His free hand rubbed circles on your hip comfortingly. He was hesitant, and maybe that was your fault for asking him to take it slow, but the last thing he wanted was to cause you pain. With an eager nod, you gave him the green light.
“God, you’re tight,” Oscar murmured, his voice breathless as he pushed forward.
“No,” you gasped, gripping his bicep for something to hold onto. “You are massive.”
A low, strained laugh escaped him. “You really wanna argue right now?”
No, you didn’t. Not when you felt him slide inside you completely.
“I’m okay,” you whispered, breathing heavily, unable to help the way you tightened around him. “F-fuck, you can move,” you told him, voice muffled against his neck.
Oscar inhaled sharply, softening to the touch by your reassurance, as he pulled his hips from yours before slowly moving back, tentatively creating a steady rhythm, stretching your around him.
It was intoxicating, and warm. While he knew that he liked you, he had never imagined it to feel like free falling. You still smelled like a mixture of him and yourself, and your soft skin was touching him in ways and places he couldn’t describe. It was gratifying that you were just as desperate as he was.
He lifted your leg up by gripping under your knee, thrusting at a deeper angle. The sounds of your bodies crashing together filled the room as your moments only got quicker and needier.
Looking down at you, he saw your eyes struggling to stay open and your jaw dropping loose with the whimpers and moans you were letting out. Your tits bounced in pace every time he came to the hilt inside you.
“Holy f-fuck, you feel good,” he stuttered right in your ear. “You feel like you were fucking made for me.”
He was being lewd and you giggled. God, you giggled—like Oscar didn’t have enough of a hard time keeping it together. You were teasing him, but it was gentle and honeyed, like a beautiful song to his ears.
He forcefully dug his fingers into the soft fat of your thigh, spilling out between his fingers, doing just about anything to ground himself, but it was impossible. Admittedly, Oscar had never felt this good before in his life.
His living room was ablaze with your movements—an incoherent mess between two bodies, all skin and bone, at each other’s disposal to use.
“Fuck…” Oscar moaned, grinding his cock into you. “I’m already so fucking close.”
“Me too,” you whined out, voice strangled. “Let it all go.”
Oscar buried his face in your neck to try and hide his desperation, moaning and biting down into the soft skin. He was moving frantically, feeling it all approaching rapidly.
With a soft cry, Oscar was cumming, stuttering and needy, groaning everything from your name to all the curse words he could think of. He twitched inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. You moved one of your hands to his cheek and you held his face, staring intensely into his eyes, as he rode out his high.
Damn you and your damn eye contact.
He continued to slowly thrust, doing whatever he could to get you off while being totally spent. The hand on your hip drifted to your pubic bone before delving between your folds, his pointer and ring finger running steady halos over your clit. Thankfully, you weren’t long after. He wasn’t sure he could take the embarrassment of not making you cum when it had been so easy for him. You arched your back as it hit you, throwing your head back in blind pleasure.
And then it all slowed. The moans disappeared, and all that was left were heavy breaths in an eerily quiet living room. He felt warm air hit his neck as he laid down and you cuddled up against him. Mindlessly, you ran your fingertips along his skin, soothing the marks your nails had left. He’d gone soft inside you, his release mixed with your own leaking out the sides.
“I’m gonna slide out, okay?”
“Mhm, slowly,” you whimpered as he did it, going from feeling full to achingly empty. A single tear ran down your cheek out of exhaustion and pleasure, and Oscar stopped to kiss it away, tasting the saline on his lips.
“Talk to me,” he whispered.
You let out a deep breath, your body feeling heavy but sated. “I’m good,” you murmured, your cheek pressed against his chest. “Can feel you dripping down my thighs though.”
“We should probably clean up.”
He didn’t move, and neither did you. You were perfectly content with the mess if it meant that you would stay cradled in his arms. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, legs intertwining. His pec was soft against you, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.
“I was going to let you wait annoyingly long before sleeping with you. I can’t believe I caved in so easily,” you said suddenly, your voice soft but teasing. The words hung in the air for a moment, light and playful, but you could feel the way his chest rumbled as he chuckled.
Oscar raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Oh, really?”
You nodded, hiding your face in his chest. “Yeah. Like, painfully long. Months, at least.”
“What changed?”
You hesitated for a moment, your face still pressed against him. But then you tilted your head slightly, sneaking a glance up at him through heavy lashes. “Can’t help the fact that I’m insanely attracted to you,” you admitted shyly.
Oscar took in your smile before embarrassment made you hide it into his chest again. You were so… soft, like he couldn’t actually believe it.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he exhaled, sinking down further into the sofa cushions. He ran a hand through his hair, trying and failing to contain the pleased grin that spread across his face.
You kissed his chest gently, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a sense of peace. For a while, neither of you spoke, the comfortable silence stretching between you. You were glad this hadn’t turned awkward.
Then, his voice broke the quiet, low and soft. “Are you staying the night?”
You didn’t look up at him, sort of scared to say a right-out yes to his question.
“If you want me to.”
His arms tightened around you slightly, and you could feel the smile on his lips as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I’d love that.”
_______________________________
Oscar wasn’t sure how long he spent starring at himself in the bathroom mirror afterward. He moved through his routine on autopilot—brushing his teeth, rinsing his mouth—only for his movements to slow as his reflection pulled him back in. His messy hair was still tousled. The love bites on his neck, faint but unmistakable, stood out against his pale skin. His fingertips grazed over the scratches on his shoulders, his cheeks warming as he recalled how they got there. He didn’t think he would ever stop blushing tonight.
When he finally mustered the courage to step back into his bedroom, he found you there: bare feet on the hardwood floor, wearing only his maroon t-shirt. You stood in front of his dresser, looking intensely at something placed on it.
The trophies.
You had fucked his brains out so good that he had forgotten about the intricate web of omissions and half-truths he had woven around you. And now, his lies were staring back at him, literally and metaphorically.
This was about to be awful.
“So, this is where you keep them?” Your voice was calm, deceptively so, as you turned to face him.
Oscar stood frozen in the doorway. He opened his mouth but no words left it, his body rigid as he grappled with the realisation: you already knew.
He hadn’t wanted to keep these things out in the open. Unlike some drivers whose homes were practically shrines to their achievements, Oscar preferred subtlety. Most of his trophies were tucked away, gathering dust in storage. But these— mostly medals and pictures from his childhood, tokens of his early racing days—remained on his dresser.
“I’ve known for a while,” you admitted, as if offering him a way out of the confession he hadn’t yet made. “Since I questioned you driving a McLaren to counselling.”
Oscar blinked, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with an awful, grinding clarity. It wasn’t like he had tried to be undercover or specifically careful about concealing his identity.
“I thought you just worked for McLaren at first,” you continued, gesturing vaguely to the trophies. “But then I googled your name and the brand… My brother used to be a big Hamilton fan, so I made the connection.”
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping slightly as the tension drained out of him. “Why didn’t you say something?” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound defeated, but it did.
“Figured there was a reason as to why you didn’t tell me,” you shrugged, taking a seat on his bed. “I won’t force you to talk about things you don’t want to. We met in an unconventional way and I fully understand that you don’t want a stranger to know everything about you.”
“Don’t say that,” Oscar interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. He stepped further into the room, his hands flexing at his sides. “We’re not strangers, we know each other.”
You tilted your head, your expression softening as you studied him. His sudden reaction surprised even himself, but he couldn’t let the word “strangers” hang in the air between you. Oscar guessed he was more emotionally involved than he had let himself believe, but that he now couldn’t deny it. He sat down beside you, the bed shifting under his weight, and your eyes searched his for something—an explanation, perhaps
“I know you,” he argued. “I know that you only smoke after counselling since it stresses you out and you think that because you smokeMarlboro Silvers, it won’t affect you as badly. know that immediately after, you chew strawberry gum to get rid of the taste, because you don’t actually like it.”
He started at you intensely as he kept talking, finally not scared of your eye contact. But he could see that you were crumbling.
“You only drink rooibos tea because it’s naturally sweeter than black tea. You carry white lighters to appear fearless, but in reality it’s because you’re sad and you don’t care if something bad happens to you.”
“Oh, and you cry to Disney movies,” he lastly added, “because you are in fact not fearless. You’re scared shitless of the emotions you harbour inside and never tell anyone about. So, yeah, I know you. ”
You blinked, his words hanging in the air between. “That doesn’t sound like you know me,” you said after a long pause. “That sounds like you’ve observed me.”
“We also quite literally just had sex,” he reminded you, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “And I think we’re alike in that sense—that we don’t casually do that with random people.”
“Fair point,” you conceded, unable to suppress your own smile.
And there it was again—the strange, undeniable truth between you. There was truth in what you had shared with each other, always. Even if he had skipped the specifics, his feelings had never been false.
You exhaled loudly, your back hitting the mattress. It was like a balloon had popped, the tension in the taut latex having exploded into nothing. You were so tired. You always were.
Oscar knew not to push further. Not right now at least. He fell back on the mattress too, hiking further up to rest his head on his pillow. He lifted the covers to invite you underneath, cuddling you closer as your arms and legs were now slightly cold to the touch.
He also came back to the realisation that you knew him too. That you knew why he went to the group meetings. That you knew what he did all those weekends he spent working. That the car crash he blamed himself for wasn’t exactly average.
“Did you see the crash?” he asked quietly after a moment, his voice murmuring between the sheets.
He felt you shake your head. “No, I haven’t seen a race since Hamilton last won the championship.”
“Right, because of your brother,” Oscar remembered. “Is he no longer a fan?”
“I don’t know if he is. Haven’t talked to him in over a year.”
Oscar nodded slowly, taking in the weight of your words. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the edge of the covers. “Do you want me to see the crash?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “Not really.”
“My first impression of you racing probably shouldn’t be a crash anyway.”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, grateful smile, and he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. The weight of that topic seemed to drift away, and you found yourself sinking into the comfort of his embrace again, your head resting on his bare chest. He could feel your warmth tucked against his side, your breathing steady like a rhythm. You traced little patterns along his palm and fingers.
For a moment, it felt easy again. Soporific, even.
He could’ve easily fallen asleep, for once without thinking about nightmares. Oscar also didn’t want this to end, for the night to be over and for him to have to say goodbye to you in the morning. Not that he imagined it to be a dramatic goodbye, you’d see each other soon enough again, but still, he didn’t want to.
“You should come with me to a race,” he said softly, breaking the peaceful silence, looking at you almost succumbing to slumber.
“I can’t—” you began and Oscar could immediately sense your hesitation.
“I’d pay for everything. I just want to have you there,” he added quickly, tilting his head to gaze down at you. It wasn’t about the money. It wasn’t about showing off. He just needed you near him, in whatever way he could.
Your body tensed up against him. “I can’t leave the country Oscar.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. He frowned, confused. “I’m sure you can get time off from work,” he said, worrying that was the reason.
You turned your gaze away, your cheek no longer resting against him, and the absence of your touch sent a quiet ache through him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, and the pause that followed felt agonisingly long. The words felt stuck in your throat, your chest tightening.
“I mean—,” you paused, swallowing hard. “I’m not allowed to leave the country.”
The room fell silent, save for your faint whisper.
“I’m on probation.”
Oscar’s mind went blank. Probation. That was for criminal offences. You’d done something deserving of a court sentence. Silence stretched between you, and Oscar pulled away slightly, just enough to look at you more closely. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak.
“So, I’m sorry for calling us strangers,” you said finally, “but you don’t know the half of what I’ve done.”
You sat up fully now, a cold weight settling in the bed. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice steady, watching as you untangled yourself from the sheets, kicking the comforter off your legs.
“I’m leaving.”
“No. You’re not.”
His voice was firm, almost commanding, as he reached out and grasped your arm before you could move further. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was resolute. He wasn’t going to let you walk away—not like this.
“You’re going to stay and tell me about this. I feel like you owe me that after what we just did.”
You froze, whole body going rigid, but Oscar didn’t let go.
“I need to know if I’m falling for a serial killer or not,” he added with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood, “because then I’ll seriously need to reconsider my life choices.”
Your heart ached at his attempt to make you laugh, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. The humour didn’t land, not fully, and the weight of what you were about to confess pressed down on you like a heavy stone.
You bit your lip, your voice trembling as you said, “I c-can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
Your body trembled beneath his touch and he loosed his grip, thumb rubbing soft circles on your arm.
“Because you’re a good person,” you whispered. “You’re going to find me repulsive and never want to see me again.”
Oscar could see it in your eyes—the battle raging within you, the fear that once the words left your lips, he would be gone. But he wasn’t going anywhere. You cared about seeing him again. That alone gave him something to hold on to.
“Unless you’ve actually murdered someone—I don’t think that’s possible.” His voice was soft, almost coaxing.
“I don’t think you get probation for murder. I promise no one got hurt physically.”
And even in this state, you still kept that sarcastic edge that he’d grown to adore.
“Okay,” Oscar said softly. “Then tell me.”
You sighed, your hands trembling as you ran your fingers through your hair. Your eyes squeezed shut, as though blocking out his gaze would somehow make it easier to speak.
“When I was 19 I got into a relationship with a guy who was a lot older than me,” you began, your voice uneven. “He had a very… destructive lifestyle that I became a part of. I let him use me.”
Oscar’s stomach twisted, but he stayed quiet, letting you continue. He could see how much it was costing you to admit this, and the last thing he wanted was to make it harder for you.
You slowly opened your eyes, not to look at him, but to look at the ceiling, blinking to fight tears from running down your cheeks.
“The reason as to why I haven’t spoken to my brother in such a long time… ” Your voice broke, and you paused, taking a shaky breath. “…is because I committed fraud with his identity. I took out a loan using his name because I was desperate for money.”
Oscar couldn’t hide his shock, but he didn’t pull away. You were laying it all out, raw and exposed, and he wasn’t going to judge you. He couldn’t. He stayed rooted in place, his hand still on your arm, grounding you.
“When he found out, he turned me in. I confessed to doing it and agreed on accepting help which is the only reason I’m not currently in prison.”
“And the boyfriend?” Oscar managed to ask.
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “He took the money and fled the country. Haven’t seen him since. But I paid my brother back. Every penny.”
Oscar nodded slowly. “What did you need the money for?”
Your lips trembled as you looked down at your hands. “Don’t make me say it. I feel like you already know.”
And he did. He’d known since he realised what those Sunday meetings were for.
“Are you clean now?”
“14 months,” you quickly said. “Ever since he turned me in. I have a badge on my keys if you—”
“I’m proud of you,” Oscar said, cutting you off gently.
Your breath hitched as he said it. It had surprised you. “See?” he whispered. “You didn’t scare me away.” Oscar gathered his courage to hold you in his embrace again, laying you gently down on the mattress, letting your body relax on top of his.
“Besides,” he added with a wry grin, “I’m in an industry where if you haven’t committed tax fraud, you’re probably the odd one out.”
You blinked in surprise, a startled laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. “What?”
Oscar chuckled, the tension between you easing ever so slightly. “I know drivers who’ve had people go to prison on their behalf because of embezzlement,” he said, clearly exaggerating, but the humour in his voice was infectious. “You’re practically a saint compared to some of them.”
“Fucking corrupt rich people,” you muttered.
“Well,” Oscar said, his hand moving down to hold yours, “the point is… you can’t scare me away.”
He heard you exhale loudly. He even felt it against his shirtless skin. Your arms tightened around him, clutching both yours and his chest. It was adding pressure to stop you from panicking.
And then you started crying. For real this time. It wasn’t you fighting the tears from falling or shyly getting watery eyes from Brother Bear. You were sobbing. He hadn’t thought he would ever see you cry.
Oscar’s heart broke a little as he watched you finally let go, your body shaking with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. He immediately pulled you closer into his arms, holding you close, his hand gently stroking your hair as you cried against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” Oscar whispered softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You clung to him, your tears soaking into his skin, but he didn’t mind. You were essentially a stranger—even though he hated the word—crying in his arms, and he’d do anything in his power to never see you like this again. He had fallen for your softness, not the jagged edges you put up around yourself in protection. He’d accept you unconditionally if it meant you didn’t see him as something you needed to protect yourself from.
As your sobs quieted and your breathing got steady, you remained tucked against Oscar’s chest, resting over his heartbeat. You could feel his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. He almost thought you had fallen asleep.
“Thank you,” you whispered after a long silence, your voice hoarse from crying.
Oscar pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “For what?”
“For making me stay.”
_______________________________
A couple of weeks later, on a Tuesday at St. Anne’s Church, you did something you’d never expected yourself to do. You found yourself standing at the lectern in front of the room of strangers that you had spent the past year of your life with. And Oscar, but he had never really been a stranger.
It felt stupid at first, when you walked up there and said your name, the people in the room saying it back to you like a choir. Some clichés from movies really were true.
You started off by giving a brief background as to why you went to meetings. It was supposed to be a guilt-free environment, one where you wouldn’t be judged for anything. But opening up about betraying your own brother and getting probation because of it wasn’t guilt-free no matter how you twisted it.
“Some of you might recognise me from NA meetings as well, but the drugs were never my main issue. I mean, I was— or am an addict, that’s how they want you to say it in NA at least. There is really no denying that, but the real problem was how it made me treat the people around me.”
You didn’t like how your voice sounded in the echoing room, but it didn’t stop you from trying. You knew that the people listening had their own issues so present that yours wouldn’t bother them.
“I understand that my brother never wants to speak to me again,” you continued, your gaze falling to your hands, a cuticle bleeding from unconsciously picking at it. “I think I almost feel the same way. But then… I’ll go to Sainsbury’s and buy green apples, even though I hate them, but he loves them, and I used to buy them for him.”
It was true. You’d have vivid flashbacks about apples every time you saw them. You’d get them from the store as if you were moving on autopilot and hate yourself for it when you got home and unpacked the groceries. Your aunt would always question why you bought them but never ate them, and you couldn’t put that into words.
“I’ll have a mental breakdown over some stupid apples and realise that… we are connected in a way that can never be erased. That’s my fault, my guilt to carry—that I ruined it, that I get to argue with apples instead of arguing with him,” you said with an almost laugher.
You fixed your gaze on Oscar, whose eyes had never left yours for as long as you spoke. He held a tight smile, like understanding the humour in how trauma tended to materialise.
The facilitator asked you a question, like he normally did when he saw people trying to find the right words but struggling to get them into actual sentences. He asked you how time had changed the guilt you felt and if your probation still felt fair to you.
“It’s just so… fucked up that you can convince yourself that you’re evil and unfixable,” you answered, your voice growing steadier. “But it turns out you’re just young. And you’ll make mistakes because of it. I’m paying for those mistakes, but I can’t let them define me.”
You decided that you were done there. You could say more, and you could’ve said less, but you’d done it now. That was the important part. And even though you’d never admit it, it really did feel better to have said it out loud.
As you stepped down and walked back to your seat, a small wave of applause followed you. You felt Oscar’s hand slip into yours as you sat down, his fingers squeezing gently, a wordless assurance.
It took a bit longer for Oscar to finally walk up to the front of the room, a month or so. But he did it in the end. You understood that he felt like his problems weren’t like everybody else’s, because no normal person could really understand his job. And feeling guilt over a car crash where no one was hurt wasn’t easily explainable either.
Oscar’s movements were deliberate, almost stiff, as though he was trying to keep himself together with every step. He stood at the lectern, his hands gripping the edges tightly, and you could see the tension in his knuckles.
He talked about the crash in broad terms, but most of his focus was on Charles, and Oscar’s messed-up idea about how he had hurt Charles. When the facilitator asked him to base his guilt around something real, something factual, you saw the struggle in his expression.
“It’s just… guilt,” he said finally, his voice low. He paused, searching for the right words, but they didn’t come. “I’m not sure I can explain it or give it a likeness. Not everything feels like something else.”
Not everything felt like something else. Issues were allowed to be unique and entangled. It wasn’t about understanding them as much as it was about accepting them. You watched him closely, and you raised your arm to ask him a question, waiting for him to acknowledge you with a silent nod.
“If Charles felt like he never needed to forgive you because he knew all along that this was an accident and no one was actually hurt—why can’t you forgive yourself?”
Oscar’s gaze dropped, his shoulders slumping slightly. He stood there for a long moment, the words sinking in.
He realised then and there that his main issue wasn’t the crash or the possibility of it happening again. It was that he blamed himself for hurting someone else—a hurt that granted hadn’t even happened, Charles was fine—but his mind hadn’t cared about that. He had the lives of others at risk with the turn of a wheel, and the crash had made him mentally unprepared for that risk. He guessed he knew now what to bring up the next time he met up with his therapist.
After that meeting, Oscar talked for a moment with the facilitator, before he walked out to find you standing by the big doorway into the actual church, looking down the isle to the altar. He stood quietly behind you, placing his arm around your waist. The quiet of the church was profound, almost unsettling. The rows of pews stretched out before you, bathed in a soft glow of candlelight.
“I don’t think I ever understood religion,” you said, whispering in the stillness. “Or God, for that matter. It’s too quiet. Too much about self-reflection and not enough about the old men in the Bible for me to grasp it.”
Oscar didn’t respond right away, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he followed your gaze to the altar.
“I see it as a last ditch effort for when you have no one else to talk to, but all you end up doing is talking to yourself,” he explained.
“Sounds a lot like self-reflection to me,” you huffed a little.
Maybe that was the thing people needed most—to get to know themselves. Bad people don’t wonder if they’re bad people. A truly evil person wouldn’t feel guilty for something bad they’ve done. You were both paralysed by guilt, but standing there with Oscar, it felt just a little less heavy.
“Oscar…” you began again, turning to meet his gaze. “Please don’t tell my secrets to anyone else.”
“We literally had to sign an NDA to join the group, babe.”
“You know what I mean,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a small laugh.
“I promise.”
When you left the church that evening, it was abnormally sunny. Early summer, colouring the nature around you green. You walked across the parking lot hand in hand, that silent show of affection a normal occurrence between you now.
“Oh,” he said suddenly, stopping by his car. “I got you something.”
From his pocket, he pulled out a lighter, its surface bright orange. He held it out to you, his expression almost shy. You blinked, caught off guard. You hadn’t expected anything like this, the small, unspoken care behind the gesture. No more conscious bad luck.
“It’s a myth, y’know?” you said, taking the lighter and looking at him softly. “Most of the 27 club died before Bic started making the white version.”
Did Oscar feel a little stupid for not thinking to google the superstition before buying you—granted, a very cheap gift—but also something so laced with thoughtfulness? Maybe. Did he also deeply want you to stop being reliant on nicotine to feel calm? Definitely. But that was too late to say right now when you already had the lighter in your hand and he was blushing from how exposed he felt.
“Well, I think orange suits you better anyway.”
_______________________________
Oscar had insisted, of course—gently but persistently—until you’d finally agreed to come to a race. Silverstone wasn’t out of the country, which meant it didn’t violate any of your probation rules. A technical loophole, but a loophole nonetheless. Your 18 months were nearly over, but Oscar hadn’t been able to wait.
Now, standing among the sea of spectators in the garage, the weight of his world began to settle. The sheer scale of it all was overwhelming. You couldn’t deny it was exhilarating, but it also made you feel small, like an intruder. It was fucking Silverstone, after all—on a Sunday afternoon just minutes before the lights would go out.
You glanced down at your phone, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in your stomach. That’s when a message appeared.
Eli: “Are you at Silverstone?? I swear I just saw you on TV.”
Your breath caught in your throat and your fingers tightened around your phone. Eli. What happened to hello? What happened to how are you? You stared at the message for a long moment. Before you could even process how to respond, another message appeared.
Eli: “Are you with Piastri?? What the hell?”
A startled laugh escaped your lips, nerves bubbling beneath the surface. You glanced around, as if half-expecting Eli to appear out of thin air. Of course, he wasn’t here. He’d gone once to Silverstone with your father when he was young, but nowadays it was cheaper to try and go to Hungary or another European race.
So, right now you knew exactly where your brother was—in the living room at your parents’ place because even though he’d moved out a long time ago, he still went home every Sunday to watch F1 because he leached off of their streaming services.
You took a deep breath and typed back.
You: “Yeah, I’m here with Oscar.”
For a moment, you stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the send button. Then, with a rush of courage, you pressed it. The three dots indicating Eli was typing appeared, disappeared, and reappeared again.
Eli: “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re at an F1 race with a driver, and I have to find out on TV?”
He definitely didn’t mean to guilt-trip you—you knew that. It was his way of breaking through the awkwardness. In a way, you supposed it was better to feel guilty about not telling him about Oscar than about the bigger things. The real things.
Before you could reply, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Oscar in his race suit, his face flushed from the adrenaline of pre-race preparations. He looked out of breath, but his smile was unmistakable, the sight of you clearly easing some of the tension in his own chest.
“Hey,” he said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “You good?”
You nodded. “Yeah. My brother just texted me.”
Oscar’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. You bit your lip, holding up your phone so he could see the messages. Oscar leant in, glancing at the screen, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“He recognised you on TV?”
“Apparently,” you said with a soft laugh. “He’s freaking out.”
Oscar’s expression softened, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “That has to be good, right? That he’s talking to you?”
“I hope so,” you whispered.
Before either of you could say more, someone called Oscar’s name from across the paddock. He sighed, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “I have to go. National anthem and all that.”
You nodded, your fingers reluctantly slipping from his grasp as he stepped back. “Good luck,” you called after him.
He grinned over his shoulder, his confidence infectious. “Thought you didn’t believe in luck.”
And while in the past you hadn’t minded your own bad luck and superstitions, you definitely didn’t want to spread that mindset to Oscar. You would start carrying wishbones, four-leaf clovers, and horseshoes if it meant that just a smidge of luck would be transferred to his life.
As he disappeared into the crowd, the nervous energy around you seemed to intensify. The minutes ticked by, stretching into what felt like hours. Your phone buzzed again, pulling your attention back.
Eli: “I’ve missed you. We should talk whenever you can.”
Your breath caught, and for a moment, the chaos around you seemed to fade. You read the message twice, three times, the words sinking in slowly. For so long, you’d been afraid that you’d lost him for good, that the damage you’d done was irreparable—that you were irreparable. But here he was, reaching out.
You: “I’ve missed you too. I’m back in town tomorrow.”
You hit send just as the formation lap started. You were not sure for how long you held your breath after that.
Oscar was good—so good—and as you watched him race, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. He was in his element, completely focused, completely in control. You were glad to not have seen the crash that still haunted him at times, because this proved that it was just a fluke, a temporary stumble rather than a career-defining event.
As the checkered flag waved, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, knowing he had made it through safely. By the time the race was over, Oscar had finished in fourth place—a strong result considering weak qualifying. Most positions gained by anyone in the race. As the crowd erupted in cheers, you found yourself smiling, the tension in your chest finally easing.
Afterward, you found yourself standing in Oscar’s drivers room, waiting for him to return. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down to see another message from your brother.
Eli: “That was an insane race. Piastri is a beast. Proud of you for being there.”
You smiled, feeling lighter than you had in months.
Moments later, Oscar appeared, his hair slightly damp from the helmet, his face flushed. He spotted you immediately, his eyes lighting up as he walked over, his smile wide despite exhaustion.
“How’d I do?” he asked, his voice breathless.
“You were amazing,” you grinned, stepping closer to him. “How are you so calm? That was nerve-wracking as hell.”
“I’ve done this a couple of times before,” he teased. Oscar laughed, pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered into your ear.
You buried your face in his shoulder, holding him close, and felt the last remnants of tension melt away. “Me too.”
Pulling back slightly, he looked down at you, his smile soft. “You haven’t been sarcastic with me all day, y’know? Is there something wrong?”
You smirked, tilting your head. “I can always start—”
Before you could finish, he leant down and kissed you, cutting off your words. Smack dab on the mouth, messy and rushed. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright and his grin was infectious. You guessed you didn’t need to resort to sarcasm and snarky comments when you were happy. Simply happy.
I'd like to thank Strangers by Ethel Cain, Strangers by Sarah Klang, and Stranger by Blanks for all inspiring this fic. Apparently, I really like songs about being strangers.
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More Posts from Stopandgopenalty and Others
wanna be yours // LN
pairing: lando norris X american!reader / mclaren photographer!reader
word count: 18k (listen.... i couldn't stop so get a snack bc it's a long one)
warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (oral, p in v, no protection, praise kink, edging, and choking)
includes: heavy mutual pining and jealousy, asshole!lando, clueless lando and reader, a little lando X oscar X reader bff trio, friends to enemies to ???, and time manipulation ( idk wtf to call it i just changed the creation date of lando.jpg lmao)
summary: you're the mclaren f1 team photographer and lando can't help but get jealous at your friendship with logan sargeant.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Not many people in the world get to do what they love as a career. It was something you were grateful for everyday. If you were being honest, you never saw yourself being a sports photographer. After graduating high school you had your eyes set on more editorial work, but it didn't take long for you to figure out that it wasn't for you. Years had passed and then an opportunity arose for a job working with IndyCar. You sent in your portfolio and somehow you got the job. That one on a whim decision changed your life forever.
People were insanely impressed with your skills, considering you had never done sports photography before, let alone motorsports. You had made some connections with people while working the job and somehow got connected with someone on the McLaren Formula One team. McLaren liked what they saw, and after a handful of emails, some serious debating, and support from your family; you had made the leap. Now here you are in your second year as McLaren's F1 team photographer.
Oscar and you joined McLaren the same year and the two of you clicked instantly, bonding over being newcomers to the team. It took about a three months for Lando to warm up to you, but once he did, look out. The three of you were never far from each other during race week. Some of the older drivers liked to call you three 'the triplets' because you were always in tow of one another.
You had made another new friend recently, Logan Sargeant. He joined F1 the same year started with McLaren, but you hadn't really made that many friends outside Oscar and Lando besides a couple other drivers. That changed at the beginning of this season. The two of you had started to be more friendly, and it didn't take long for a connection to form. It was nice to have someone that reminded you of home around, even if you guys were from two completely different states.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Monza
The Italian Grand Prix had just ended and Lando had made podium, placing P2 to be exact. As you stood there waiting for him to get out of the car you snapped a couple pictures making sure your settings were correct. The buzz in the air after Lando or Oscar made podium was something you still hadn't gotten used to. It was electric; from the cheers and chants from the fans, to hollering from the team as he exited the vehicle. You snapped a few photos as he greeted the team, a small bounce in his step proved he was more than ecstatic about his placement. It was a tough race, everyone had brought their A game today, drivers and cars included. So it was fair to say P2 was an excellent spot to be in, even if you would have loved to see him on that top spot.
His helmet and balaclava were off and you knew he was coming your way, so you readied your camera in his direction. Looking through the viewfinder you saw the giant smile that erupted on his face when he saw you and you couldn't help but to reciprocate one as equally as big back to him as you snapped away. One last one was taken of him with two fingers up indicating the second place he had just achieved. As you lowered your camera his arms were already indicating your invitation into them. Your arms wrapped around his torso, something that was just muscle memory to you at this point.
"That was one hell of a race. Congrats Lan." He had you wrapped so tight in his embrace that your words were mumbled against his shoulder, but he understood you just fine.
"Hmm. Thank you love." The term of endearment raised goosebumps on your arms. And as you pulled away from the hug his touch lingered for longer than it should have, something you clocked immediately.
To say you and Lando had a different friendship was an understatement. In fact, you didn't know of any other driver and their team photographer to have a relationship like Lando and you. About six months into your first year with McLaren you had developed a tiny crush on Lando and for the longest time you thought he possibly may have liked you back.
The fact that he was always touching you was one of your first inklings. If it was possible, the Brit was always in close proximity to you. If you were sitting next to each other, your knees were touching or his arm was behind you. Not to mention his lingering touches, hugs lasting longer than they should, his hands lingering on your waist, his fingers grazing you as he passed by. The way he acted with you was far from professional, but you weren't complaining.
Your second inkling was the gift giving. How many people can say their co-worker got them a Cartier bracelet for Christmas? None that you could think of. It wasn't even just expensive things that he would get you. If you guys were at headquarters he would always bring you an iced coffee from the place down the road. You had mentioned once that you preferred their coffee to other places and to your surprise Lando showed up the next day with one in hand for you. Or just even the fact that when you're with Lando, doing anything, he pays. Doesn't matter what it is, he's there with his card in hand, ignoring your pleas to let you pay for once.
The terms of endearment Lando used towards you had also made you wonder if he felt more than friendly feelings. The term 'love' was used quite often, along with 'beautiful'. Both terms surely in violation of HR, but Lando didn't seem to care as he said both freely with no concern of who heard him. And each time he did you tried to hide the blush that would creep onto your cheeks or try not to let him detect how fast your heart was beating when he had you in his arms.
So, to say Lando Norris had you smitten over him was an understatement, but you never acted on that crush for two reasons. One; you didn't want to risk your job, you were sure HR would have a conniption fit if a relationship ever developed between the two of you. You were surprised you hadn't gotten a talking to by PR at least for how you guys acted sometimes during race weeks.
Second; you never truly knew how he felt. Lando Norris liked to mess with your head. In all honesty he probably didn't know that he was, you had never expressed how you felt about him, he had no obligations towards you. But to have him act like he does with you and then that same day see him on Twitter leaving a club with some girl was undoubtedly going to fuck with your head..
After the third or fourth time of waking up to news about who Lando was hooking up with, you knew it was time for your crush to go away. He clearly wasn't interested in you and you were never one to admit your feelings first. So, those feelings got tucked away into a little corner in your brain, locked away, to hopefully never be opened again. Not wanting to lose Lando entirely (and your job), you accepted that you guys were just friends. That he was just one of those people who were naturally flirty, and that maybe you shouldn't take his words and actions to heart. Telling yourself that he wouldn't even be interested in someone like you when he had so many ethereal breathtaking women at his fingertips. And it worked, until he would let his hands lingered after a hug or a term of endearment slipped past his lips. His mindless actions jiggling the door knob to those locked away feelings in your brain.
As he took the podium your cheesy grin had returned as you snapped some more pictures. He really did look amazing up there and no matter what you felt or still feel about him you were always going to be proud of him. He was one of your best friends and as long as you were concerned, nothing was going to change that. The champagne went flying minutes later and more pictures were taken. The celebration continued for a while and as the drivers did their press interviews you made your way back to the hotel to start editing and picking the final pictures to be used on social media.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Lando had made it back to the hotel after finally finishing all his post race duties. He was satisfied with his placing today, sure he would have loved to have won, but everyone was cutthroat today, he just felt lucky enough to have made podium at all. Of course his night was far from over though, the celebrations had just only begun when the champagne was popped at the podium. He planned on having one hell of a night, he deserved it. And it was a no brainer to him that you would be there with him, any chance he got to spend with you, he took. After taking a shower he grabbed his phone to call you, and to no surprise you answered on the second ring.
Your melodic voice filled his ears, a smile tugging at his lips as he heard you speak. "Hello?"
The phone was on speaker as he dug through his suitcase, trying to find a shirt to wear. "We are going out in about an hour. You coming?"
A sigh echoed through the speaker. "I've got a lot of work to still do. You know I don't just take all these pictures for my own person pleasure."
He finally found a shirt and as he buttoned it he couldn't help but laugh at your words. "Oh really? I thought you just took all those pictures because you were obsessed with me.
You scoffed at his cockiness. "You wish Norris. Someone has to fix that face."
"Ouch. Don't talk about Oscar like that." He joked.
He wasn't there but he was sure that you had rolled your eyes at him. "Whatever. I have work to do." You stated. But Lando knew that wasn't true and that you were coming out tonight, you could never tell him no. If Lando was being honest with himself, he couldn't really tell you no either. If anything the two of you just liked to play cat and mouse.
Cologne wafted through his room as the conversation continued. "You're telling me, you would rather sit in your room all night editing pictures than going out with your favorite person and some of your other friends?"
You laughed at his choice of words. "My favorite person? I didn't know Logan was going?"
Logan.
Just hearing his name roll off your tongue put a sour taste in Lando's mouth. The two American's friendship being a sore subject to Lando as of recently.
He ignored you comment, the lightheartedness of the conversation had dissipated at the mention of the other male driver. "Be ready in thirty minutes. I'll come get you." He left no time for you to respond, already hanging up and tossing his phone on the bed.
Thirty minutes later he closed his door behind him and walked down the hall to your room. The both of you were on the same floor, but about ten rooms apart. A gentle knock was placed on the door and seconds later it opened. Lando felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of you standing in the doorway. The skirt you were wearing was very short and as you turned around to grab your phone, he saw that your top that already had him staring from the front, was completely open in the back. This was not an outfit that he was used to seeing you in. Outside the usual McLaren gear you donned, you had a casual style, and when you had went clubbing or out before you had never worn anything this scandalous. He wasn't hating it though, in fact he was far from hating it.
"Eyes up here Norris." You stated as you joined him in the hallway.
He hadn't even realized he was staring, but when your words broke him out of his trance a blush crept onto his cheeks. Lando linked his arm with yours, leading you both towards the elevator. "Sorry for staring. You look beautiful tonight." Lando stated as he pressed the lobby button on the elevator. As the doors closed the smell of your perfume swarmed around him, it was almost intoxicating, combine that with how you looked tonight and his head was spinning.
You replied with a simple 'thanks' as you leaned against the elevator wall. He realized he may have made things awkward with his ogling, but god he couldn't help himself. The ding indicated their ride was over and as the two of them entered the lobby they were met with some of the other drivers standing in a group, undoubtedly waiting for them.
"Finally!" The Monegasque driver hollered.
You approached the group, a smile tugging at your lips. "Sorry boys. You know how Lando has to make sure he looks perfect."
The laughs that came from the guys was the last thing on Lando's mind, he was more concerned over how some of his competitors were looking at you. It was the same way he was looking at you merely minutes ago. His jaw clenched as he watched Charles hand get dangerously close to your back as he walked beside you. And as you got into one of the taxis with Charles and Carlos, he thought he might break a tooth from how hard he was biting down. As the taxi that was occupied with you and the two Ferrari drivers pulled away, Lando begrudgingly got into the next one with Oscar and George, already feeling like tonight wasn't going to plan out like he had hoped.
The music was deafening as Lando entered the club. You were nowhere in sight when he had arrived, so here he was on the hunt. He stopped by the bar, grabbing a shot of tequila for him and your favorite drink to give you when he found you. When he saw Charles off to the side of the room he figured he'd find you with him, but to his surprise Charles was stood there talking to some random guy, with no you in sight.
"Have you seen Y/N?" Lando felt like he was screaming, clubs were loud, he knew that, but this one just felt like it was on another level.
Charles shook his head. "The American stole her away from me! It was a shame, we were having a good time!"
The American. No guessing as to who that was. He stopped by the bar again, this time it was two tequila shots, the burn felt good as it slid down his throat. His eyes scanned the room, it was hard to see. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and bodies in every direction, he figured he'd never find you. Then just when he was about to give up he spotted you. Your back was to him, but he could see the tall blonde driver that was with you, his hands roaming your body as the two of them danced.
Lando tightened his grip on the glass as he watched the two of them and he couldn't help but think 'who the hell invited Logan?' The same hands that were on your body seconds ago now pointed at him, motioning for you to look back at Lando. A smile spread across your face as you realized who was standing there and as you walked over he felt his demeanor soften.
"I've been looking for-" Logan had now come up behind you, his hand resting on you shoulder, causing you to pause for a moment.
Lando's eyes flickered to Logan's hand on your shoulder, then back to you. Fucking ridiculous. He wanted to take Logan's hand and break it, make him not be able to race ever again and then he wouldn't be an issue again. His softened demeanor now long gone. "Here. Your favorite." He stated as he shoved the now watered down drink toward you.
You accepted the drink, but your smile was now gone as Lando turned on his heel to leave. You weren't sure what his deal was, but he on the other hand knew exactly what he was about ready to do.
He wasn't sure how many shots he had consumed by now, but god dammit he was a multi-million dollar F1 driver, who just got podium at the hardest race of the season so far. He was going to drink however much he wanted and no one, not even you were going to ruin his fun.
Lando made his way out to the dance floor and his eye caught the attention of some random girl. Perfect. The music pounded in his chest as the mystery girl and him were less than cordial in the middle of the swarm of bodies. The alcohol coursing through his veins only added to how he was feeling right now. It didn't take long for the random girl to be in tow behind him as they leave the club, for their lips to be on one anothers in the backseat of the taxi, and for his wandering hands to explore her body in the elevator. But what does take long is for him to get into his damn hotel room. He keeps trying and trying and the keycard will not work. He was getting impatient, the last thing he wanted to do was go back down to the lobby, he wanted to get into his room. Then he heard you voice.
"Lando?"
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
There was a cool breeze that whipped through the night air as you walked the streets of Monza. The liquor in your veins was the only thing keeping you warm, considering your less than modest outfit choice for the night.
"I'd give you my jacket if I had one." Logan stated as he walked next to you.
You flashed him a smile. "I'm fine really. It's not that bad out."
The two of you had decided to walk back to the hotel, it really wasn't that far of a walk from the club. Plus, you had wanted to soak up as much time in Italy as you could. As you walked you were thankful you didn't go crazy with the drinking tonight, the idea of walking in heels on these streets while plastered sounded horrible. If anything at this point you only had a slight buzz. You couldn't say the same for some of the other drivers who were undoubtedly still living it up at the club.
Light conversation was made between the two of you as you walked.
"Did you have a good time tonight?" You asked.
"I did. I'm glad you decided to come out too." Silence filled the space between the two of you for a moment before the driver spoke again. "Can I ask a question?"
Your heart skipped a beat. You hated when people asked that, just ask the damn question instead of making your mind run worst case scenario, but you simply replied. "Sure."
Logan scratched the back of his neck, like he was unsure if he should even ask the question. But just before you were about the tell him to spit it out, he spoke. "What's up with you and Lando?"
Glancing over at Logan you gave him a confused look. "What do you mean what's up with me and Lando?"
Your question made Logan stop walking. "Oh come on you know what I mean. Are you guys a thing?"
A genuine laugh came barreling out of you. "Me and Lando? Oh yeah and I'm a F1 driver." You had continued to walk, but Logan grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him.
"I'm serious Y/N."
The joking manner of the conversation was now suddenly gone. "Nothing is going on between me and Lando. Believe me." You groaned, Lando was the last thing you wanted to talk about right now, especially after his weird behavior in the club.
Logan's grip on your hand still lingered. "Doesn't seem like it."
You rolled your eyes at him, why did he have a sudden interest in Lando and you? "Logan. There is nothing going on between us. I really like my job and would like to not be fired. You don't think HR has some rules set in place or something? Plus I'm not even his type. I'm not a model or some ethereal woman from some foreign country." His grip on your hand had loosened enough for you to turn and continue walking. He still stood frozen for a moment, processing your words and when he realized how far you had gotten ahead of him he had to jog to catch up to you.
"You like him don't you?" He asked as he finally caught up with you. The little locked door in the back of your brain labeled Lando was bursting at the seams, but you did not want to unlock it tonight, especially to Logan. Thankfully you could see the hotel in the distance and you felt no need to answer Logan's prying question. "I'll get it out of you eventually." Logan stated as the two of you entered the elevator.
You just shook your head at your friend as you leaned your head against the elevator walls. The adrenaline from the eventful day was starting to wear off and the tiredness had set in. As the elevator doors opened you looked back at the tall blonde, holding your hand out to him. "You gonna walk me to my room or did I let you dance with me for no reason earlier?"
Logan's eyes widened as he hurried to your side. "Coming!"
You rested your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked down the hall. "I did really have a good time tonight. Thanks for spending it with me. Even if you did steal me from Charles."
"I think me taking you from Charles was more of a favor or dare I say a good deed." Logan joked.
Rounding the corner to your room you heard giggles and shhs. Logan and you exchanged questioning looks, wondering who was being naughty in the hallway. But as you finally made it into eyeshot of your door you stopped dead in your tracks.
It was Lando and some girl you had never seen before, making out against your door. You felt Logan's grip on you tighten as he forced your feet to move with his towards your room. As you got closer the two of them still had not broken apart, only until you spoke up.
"Lando?"
Lando's eyes turned into saucers when he saw it was you standing there, but as they shifted to the right of you, they narrowed at the sight of Logan with his arm still around your shoulder.
"What are you doing?" It was a rhetorical question, anyone knew what they were doing. As you stood there waiting for a response your eyes glanced over to the girl, she was definitely his type, no doubt about it. The longer you looked the more you had wished you guys would have taken a taxi so maybe you wouldn't have had to witness this.
"Well. I can't seem to get into my room." He fumbled with the key card, still clearly drunk. "Stupid key card won't work."
Your eyes moved back to Lando, a small sigh escaping past your lips as you glanced up at the room number by the door. "That's because you have the wrong room. This is my room, 710. Yours-" you pointed down the hall "is down there, 701."
Lando's mouth formed an O shape after realizing what he had done and the random girl and him erupted into a fit of giggles. You tried to hold back the eye roll that was so badly wanting to let go. "Sorry. Let's go.." Lando paused looking at the girl he had pinned to your door seconds ago.
Jesus christ. He didn't even know her name.
"Bella." The girl answered, not even phased at him not knowing her name.
"Right Bella. Let's go." Lando dragged the girl behind him towards his room. He let the girl go in first and before he passed through the doorway, he gave one last look back at you before slamming the door shut behind him.
A loud sigh escaped past your lips as you stood there, staring at the now empty hallway. You had no reason to be jealous, you knew that. There truly was nothing between Lando and you and tonight was a prime example of him showing you he had no interest in you. But dammit, you couldn't lie and say it didn't sting when you saw him with someone else. Even when you try to push away your feelings, try and bury them so deep that you tell yourself you're fine being friends, being colleagues, but you know deep down that the want for something more will always be there. You dug in your clutch for your key card, finally finding it you scanned it. The little light turned green, but as you placed your hand on the handle you hesitated. Your forehead leaning against the previously occupied door.
"I used to like him."
Logan only gave a slight hum as a reply and when you turned your head to look at him, you knew he knew. He gave you a small smile and quick hug before bidding you goodnight.
"Talk to you tomorrow?" You questioned.
"Of course." He stated as he made his way down the hall.
As you entered your room you flung your heels off and grabbed some pajamas. Your open laptop on the desk caught your attention, you could have swore you saved everything and put it up before leaving earlier. Worst case scenario ran through your head as you turned it on, you prayed all your work wasn't gone. As the screen came to life a picture of Lando popped up. It was one of him you had taken before qualifying the day before. He had a cheesy grin on his face and he held up a number 4 on his fingers, one of his signature poses. You saved the picture and put your laptop up before climbing into bed.
Unfortunately for you, sleep did not come easy that night. You couldn't stop thinking about Lando and that girl. You knew you should just let it go, god knows you've seen him with multiple other women, but tonight was the first time you saw it with your own two eyes, in person. The feeling of seeing it actually happen versus seeing it on Twitter was like night and day. When you saw pictures being spread around, sure it was annoying, but you could just get off your phone and suddenly it was gone. Tonight though, was different, the image forever engraved into your mind. Thinking back to standing in the hallway made your stomach turn, it felt like it had officially confirmed that the idea of the two of you ever being a thing was officially dead.
Yet here you were, tossing and turning in bed. Because tonight you had officially let all those locked away feelings out for the first time in forever. You weren't sure if it was seeing him with that girl that did it or just the hinges finally breaking on that door. You just let yourself fully feel, feel every emotion your brain threw at you. Anger, jealousy, sadness, love? Even though you knew the two of you had no chance, you couldn't help but want. You wanted to be the girl he had pinned against your hotel room door. You wanted to be the girl he kissed before and after his races. Fuck you just wanted to be the girl he loved. More tossing and turning ensued and you just couldn't get your mind to shut off. As you glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand the time read 4:04. A dry laugh echoed through the room. 'Fucking number four' you whispered to yourself.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
As Lando awoke the next morning he knew he had made some bad decisions last night. The pounding headache was proof of bad decision number one and the phone number sloppily written on a tissue on his nightstand was proof of number two. He was thankful the girl had left before he woke up, mornings after one night stands were never his strong suit.
His mind wandered to last night as he laid in bed. Perhaps he may have been a little overzealous with his actions. He couldn't help it though, the idea of you not being his drove him crazy. The thought that you was more interested in other guys, especially Logan, always seemed to make him make some not so great decisions. Last night was a great example.
Lando wasn't entirely sure when his feelings for you turned into more than friends. In fact, when he heard they were getting a new photographer he wasn't even that keen on getting to know you. Photographers came and went in this business and a lot of the times he felt like they got in way. Sometimes he just didn't want to have a damn camera in his face, but then he met you.
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February 2023
It was a formal setting, a team meeting before the start of the season. Of course the big topic was his new teammate Oscar, who he had met a couple months beforehand, along with the usual beginning of season talks. Towards the end of the meeting he had noticed a girl sitting in the corner of the room, he could tell she felt like she was out of place. He remembers thinking about how beautiful she was, but as he sat there he couldn't remember her from anywhere. Zak had already talked about who was new this season and Lando prided himself on knowing everyone on the team. So who was this mystery girl?
The meeting had finally ended and people were getting up to leave when Zak spoke up. "Oh yes. Sorry I forgot." He pointed towards the mystery girl. "Everyone this is the new team photographer. Y/N. Please make her feel welcome." Lando remembers a blush forming on your cheeks as you gave the room full of people a smile and small wave. As people filed out of the room Lando hung around, wanting to properly introduce himself to you. He noticed you were gathering your things to leave and he knew now was his window of opportunity.
You had bent down to pick up your bag and by the time you stood back up, there Lando stood, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped a little, startled at the closeness of him. His smile finally broke free as he stuck out his hand for you to shake. "Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Lando." As their hands touched he could have swore he felt the "sparks" that they talk about in the movies, his heart beat racing a little as he really took in all your beauty. Not to mention your perfume (that you still used today) that was making his head spin. "Welcome to McLaren." He was finally able to spit out.
"Thank you! I'm glad to be here."
Your accent made his ears perk up. "An American huh? What made you come all the way over here?"
The blush from when Zak introduced you had never really faded and when Lando mentioned your accent it just deepend. "Well, long story short. I used to work for IndyCar, made some connections with McLaren and now here I am."
Lando heard Zak calling his name from the hallway, he didn't want to end the conversation, but duty called. "Boss is hollering for me. It was lovely to meet you though. I'll see you around yeah?" He was trying not to sound like a douche while also trying not to seem overly enthusiastic. A simple 'see ya' came from your mouth as Lando walked out the door.
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For a about a month after that Lando played it cool. He watched you from a distance, watched as your friendship with Oscar formed. Watched as you did you work, something that he realized very early on that you were amazing at.
Around the three month mark Lando had decided that playing it cool was not his forte. He somewhat felt jealous as he watched his teammate and you joke around or when they would go get lunch without him when they were back at headquarters. Lando wanted to be the one you went to lunch with and joked with. He remembers a conversation Oscar and him had about you once.
It was an off week for racing and that meant a couple days were spent at Headquarters running the sim and creating content for social media. Oscar and you had came back from grabbing lunch. He watched them part ways and as Oscar came towards him Lando raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a questioning look.
"Oh don't even start. You know you can come with us." Oscar stated as he sat down.
"Well someone has to stay here and hold down the fort."
Oscar shook his head as he rolled his eyes at his older teammate, sometimes Lando's dramatics made him seem like the younger one. "Yeah I'm sure the hundreds of other people who work here can manage if Lando Norris leaves the building for an hour to go get lunch." Lando stayed silent, only crossing his arms over his chest as he stared back at Oscar. "You gonna finally fess up to why you've been acting so pissy lately?"
Lando scoffed at Oscar's question. "I just thought I would have gotten a lunch invitation by now."
"Literally told you, you can come with us. Y/N has even asked why you don't come with us." Oscar didn't let Lando respond to his comment. "Although, it is weird to me how distant you are with her. You like everyone on the team and I know you would like her too if you got to know her."
Lando shrugged, not exactly sure what to say back to his teammate. He didn't want to say, yes he knows he would like you, in fact the giant crush he has on you right now is making his stupid play cool decision eat away at his brain. The fact that even from only talking to you when necessary for work he's become enamored with you and your work. How you have a knack for capturing him in a way that no other photographer has before. How he thinks that if he lets himself become close to you that it may be bad for the both of them, but he wants to so bad. But he doesn't say any of that. All he says is.
"Well then let's all do lunch tomorrow."
The rest was history. After having lunch with you and Oscar the next day it seemed like you and him were inseparable. Looking back now Lando could have punched himself for not getting to know you better sooner.
As time went on his feelings grew stronger, but he was too scared to say anything. Too afraid to ruin the amazing friendship you guys had. Too afraid that if he opened his big mouth that things may be too awkward and you would leave your job and him. He had grown to love having a camera in his face, but only if you were the one taking the picture. And to think he might get that taken away just because of a crush destroyed him, so he kept his mouth shut.
It was fine for awhile, he would distract himself with random girls (who always somewhat resembled you) any chance he got. Something perhaps he shouldn't be proud of, but people already expected it from him. So why not live up to the playboy expectations? But he soon realized maybe his actions were hurting him more than helping him. When you started to become closer with some of the other drivers he thought perhaps he was pushing you away from him.
That was the last thing he wanted to do, so he thought maybe the best way to reel you back in was through your one true love; photography. Thus, lando.jpg was born. He wasn't going to lie, you truly had gotten him more interested in photography, but the instagram was started under false pretenses. The way his heart skipped a beat when he got a text from you about it was a little embarrassing to say the least.
you: do i need to break the news to zak that you are quitting racing to pursue photography or are you?
lando: nope. was just inspired by one of the best photographers i know.
you: oh so you're coming for my job?
lando: might need to post some content first before i go applying for jobs.
you: well i better be apart of your first post. considering i was the inspiration.
lando: wouldn't have it any other way.
And to no surprise there you were front and center on lando.jpg. Lando even made sure to make the caption "coming for her job". His sudden interest in photography had you around him more often, something he was beyond happy about. It had even escalated to the two of you hanging out, outside of work hours. As time passed it seemed like you two were just getting closer, but yet neither of you would admit your feelings for eachother.
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In Lando's mind he was content with how you were in his life at the moment, that was until a certain American driver entered yours. To give himself some credit, Lando had been pretty good with his actions lately, he hadn't been messing around with anyone for a good while now, but last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. He wasn't really sure if it was just Logan's actions last night or the fact that the Ferrari drivers couldn't have been more friendly with you either.
To Lando you were his and he never was good at sharing his toys as a child, so why should he have to share the girl he was obsessed with? His only problem though (that he could never seem to internalize) was that you weren't his. You were only his in his mind. And that's why he's lying here in this hotel room, alone, with just a headache and a phone number that will be thrown in the trash later.
He recalled the scene in the hallway last night. Sure he was drunk, but unfortunately not drunk enough to forget the whole thing. In his drunken defense he really did get the rooms mixed up, and maybe he would have eventually realized it. It was just his shit luck that you showed up, with Logan in tow. He remembered his stomach turning at the sight of Logan's arm around you. And now come morning he'd made himself nearly sick at the idea of Logan and you sharing a bed together last night, he wouldn't be surprised if you did though, he figured his actions probably drove you right into his arms.
Lando hadn't even realized what time it was until texts come rolling in asking where he was and how the car was going to leave without him.
Shit.
He had never packed his stuff up so fast in his life and as he walked out the door he knew he had probably forgot something. Speed walking was putting it politely, he was more like running down the hallway. He looked down for a split second to grab his phone out of his pocket and then suddenly he's barreling into something. That something turned out be someone, you to be exact. He hated to say it, but you were the last person he wanted to face this morning, considering their encounter in the hallway last night. But his fuck ups were casted aside as he crouched down to look at you.
"Fuck. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He looked you over, he knew he was like a brick wall, so it had to have hurt when he ran into you.
You rubbed your arm as you looked up at him, his blue green eyes staring back at you with a worried expression on his face. "Goddamn Lando. Watch where you're going." You huffed.
He extended his hands out to help you up and offer you quickly accepted. "I know I'm sorry." He stated sheepishly.
Instead of helping you pick up you bags, Lando took the time to sneak a peek into your room. He wasn't sure what he thought he was going to find. Maybe a naked Logan still under your sheets from last night? But to his relief your room was empty, but he wasn't as quick with it as he thought.
"What are you doing?" You inquired.
His head snapped back to you, your eyebrows raised in question of his actions, your free hand on your hip.
"Just making sure you didn't forget anything." He mumbled out quickly.
An eye roll was all he got back from you as you turned on your heel. Suitcase and bags wheeling behind you down the hall. Lando quickly followed behind you, resembling a lost puppy. As the pair entered the lobby a handful of the other drivers were down there chatting, surely waiting for their cars to arrive. Lando gave some 'heys' as he walked past, there was no time to stop and chat. There were two cars waiting outside the hotel and Lando could see Oscar in the first one. Of course he was already in the car and waiting thought Lando. It was rare for them to all be leaving together. Most of the time they just went their separate ways after a race weekend, but on the rare chances they do have flights together, you always rode in the same car as him and majority of the time they sat by each other on the plane. So he was confused to see you getting into the second car.
After quickly throwing his bags in the back of the first car he trapsed over to the second car, ignoring the shouts from Oscar about missing their flight. The door was still open and as he peered inside the vehicle he'd wished he hadn't. There sat Logan and you, already chatting away. You were practically on Logan's lap with how close you were to him.
Lando cleared his throat, causing the two Americans to look towards him. "Y/N are you riding with me?"
His grip on the door frame getting tighter as he noticed the quick glance Logan and you shared, silence lulling between the three. Your silence already answering his question.
"Actually I'm gonna ride with Logan. He has the same flight too, so it works out." Her words cutting through the silence in the air and he thought that if he gripped the door frame any tighter he was going to leave dents in it.
Perhaps he was pushing you away from him.
"Alright." Lando stated, before what some would say slamming the car door shut.
The look on Oscar's face was the last thing Lando wanted to see when he entered the car. "Shut up." Lando huffed.
Oscar shrugged in response, a small smirk playing at his lips. "I didn’t even say anything!”
Lando rolled his eyes at his teammate, choosing to look out the window as the car started to move. “You didn’t have to. Your face said it all.”
Oscar had been dealing with Lando's hissy fits about you ever since that day he confronted him about going to lunch together. To say Oscar was ready for Lando to either man up and admit to you how he felt about you or move on was an understatement.
He also knew how you felt about Lando. Oscar had a hunch about it just from the way you would look at Lando sometimes. Or the way you would always glance at him when someone had said something funny, guarenting the two of them to be a giggling mess as soon as they made eye contact. Or the way you captured him in photos. Granted you did an amazing job when it came to taking any photos, but you captured Lando in a different way. In a loving way almost, Oscar remembered his girlfriend saying you captured Lando through the female gaze. Something he didn't really get, but clearly it meant something. So when you drunkenly admitted one race weekend how you liked Lando and how conflicted you felt about it all, he wasn't the least bit surprised.
So needless to say Oscar had gotten the rundown on what had occured in the hotel hallway last night from you this morning, infact very early this morning. He was still in bed when your loud pounding on the door woke him up. When he let you in, you just started in and Oscar didn't even say anything, just climbed back into bed as you paced back and forth in front of him. In the same breath you said that Lando is a douchebag, but that you don't care that he was hooking up with random women. Oscar could only let you ramble as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
What Oscar did to get stuck in the middle of his two friends who both clearly wanted each other, but were too stubborn and backwards to just admit how they felt was beyond him. Not to mention one friends solution was to just act like said feelings don't exist. While the other friend can only seem to make things worse for himself, undoubtedly pushing the other person away.
Oscar knew your version of last night, and he knew Lando probably didn't want to relive it, but sometimes stirring the pot was Oscar's only form of entertainment.
“So I take it you don’t want to talk about the hallway incident last night then?”
Lando’s attention averted from the window back to Oscar. “How did you know about that?”
“You forget Y/N’s my friend too-" he debated whether or not to bring up Logan, but fuck it he thought "and so is Logan."
A forced laugh came from Lando. “Everyone just seems to love him don’t they?”
“Maybe Y/N likes him because he doesn’t turn into an ass when she’s around other guys and he doesn't hook up with random women in front of her hotel room.” Oscar knew he was pushing Lando's buttons, something he knew how to do quite well if he did say so himself.
Lando's jaw tensed, what was Oscar’s deal this morning? “Kindly shut the fuck up Oscar.”
Oscar put his hands up in defense. “Just saying. Your actions have consequences. Even if she doesn’t know you're being an ass because you're jealous. I would think, she thinks, you’re just being a shit friend in general. So maybe get yourself in check. Or admit how you feel. Either way something’s gotta give.”
Silence filled the air between the McLaren drivers. Lando knew deep down that Oscar was right, but he would never admit it. To Lando, his self destructive tendencies sometimes made more sense to him than the logical sane ones that Oscar presented him.
No words were exchanged for the rest of the car ride, the Italian pop song playing softly from the radio was the only thing heard. As they boarded the plane Lando still held out some hope that you would sit next to him, like you always did. But that hope was crushed as soon as you sat in the row behind him, with Logan right next to you. His headphones were immediately over his ears, not wanting to hear the two of them the whole plane ride.
The look his teammate gave him as he sat down beside him was one of pity. Maybe he really had fucked up, he had a feeling that things between you and him these past few weeks had been different. But after last night and this morning, there was no doubt their relationship had shifted.
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The next two races were in Azerbaijan and Singapore and you were still a little on edge from how Lando acted in Monza. Him slamming the door on Logan and you was beyond ridiculous. His attitude that whole night was also beyond ridiculous, especially considering how well he had performed in the race that day. A far cry from how he performed in the most recent two. Your job had been fairly easy on the Lando content aspect. He hadn't even placed in the top ten in Azerbaijan or Singapore, so that meant no extra pictures of podiums or celebrations for him. Which honestly, was fine with you, considering you didn't know if you were going to get asshole Lando or sweet funny Lando. In Singapore you had gotten asshole Lando, which looking back was ten times worse than his attitude in Monza.
You had some free time before qualifying and so you had inconspicuously made your way over to the William's garage. Mostly everyone there knew you by now as Logan and you had become fairly close. Not to mention the bright papaya uniform didn't allow for any blending in to occur. Logan was talking with some of the mechanics by his car when he spotted you, he quickly excused himself and came over.
"What are you doing in enemy territory?" Logan joked.
"I had some free time, came to see if I could figure out some strategies to relay back."
Logan raised his eyebrows a playful smirk developing on his face. "Oh I see. This friendship has just been a ploy all along!"
You raised your hands in defense, laughs coming from the both of you. "You caught me."
The two of you chatted some more, particularly about how excited you were for the next race, which just so happened to be in Austin. Any chance to be back in the states was one you took full advantage of. It didn't even matter that it wasn't even close to home, it was still home enough to you and you figured Logan thought so too. As the two of you talked about making plans while in Austin you heard a certain British voice holler your name.
"Y/N!"
Both Logan and yours heads turned towards the voice, the voice that sounded more like a mother hollering at her disobedient child than anything.
There Lando stood, his papaya suit making him stick out just like you and by his tone you already knew which Lando you were going to get. He was stood outside the garage, probably not daring to enter. You mouthed a 'what' at him and he motioned for you to come to him. You shook your head at him, deciding to speak up this time.
"I'm talking to Logan. What do you want?"
He rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly made his way towards Logan and you. "Don't you have work to be doing back at our garage?"
What the fuck? What was he trying to be your boss now? You were sure the look on your face was nothing shy of displeasure.
"What are you talking about? I've done more than enough for today and it's still an hour before qualis." You glanced over at Logan and you could tell he was a little taken aback from how Lando had spoken to you.
Lando's eyes lingered on Logan as he spoke. "Well still don't think you should be hanging around in other teams garages while on the clock." His gaze moved over to you. "Don't you think?"
You so badly wanted to smart off to him, make a snide comment about how badly he had done in the last race in Azerbaijan and how maybe he needed to be the one working. But you didn't, you bit your tongue, figuring it would only make things worse. So you only stated the obvious.
"Did Zak send you to come get me or something? Because last time I checked you weren't my boss."
Before Lando could respond Logan spoke up. "I think I'm gonna leave you guys to-"
Your head snapped back to face Logan, grabbing his arm before he could move. "No. We were having a conversation." As you turned to look back at Lando you could have swore you saw him staring at your hand on Logan's arm, but his gaze flickered back towards you too quickly. "Lando I'll be back at the garage in a little bit. I was talking to Logan before you interrupted and I'd like to finish my conversation if you don't mind." Your tone nothing shy of shitty.
You just wanted him to leave, he was causing somewhat of a scene to the people close by. And thankfully for you he left without a word, only a disgruntled look and a huff as he walked back towards the McLaren garage.
"Sorry." You stated as you averted your attention back towards Logan "I don't know what his problem is anymore. Ever since Monza he's been so fucking bizarre. Always hot and cold, I never know what Lando I'm going to get. It's been making my life a little stressful if you couldn't tell."
Logan glanced at Lando walking away then back to you, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I think I might have a hunch."
Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement. What more could Logan know than you? Not to sound like one of those people, but you clearly knew Lando better than Logan. "What? What is it?"
Logan did the old sealing his lips and throwing away the key gesture. "That's for me to know and you to find out."
"Oh come on tell me!" You exclaimed, desperately wanting to know what Logan knew.
He quickly changed the subject. "So how about going to a rodeo in Austin?"
"Logan tell me!"
He only shook his head as you unsuccessfully tried to pry the information out of him.
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Austin
A month had passed since Singapore and you had spent your break alone. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't great. If anything it made you realize you really needed to make friends outside of people at work.
It didn't help when pictures from the Bali trip that a bunch of the drivers had went on, Lando included, started to be posted. Bali had treated him well and you wanted to kick yourself for ogling over the pictures of him. Especially after how moody he's been, but you couldn't help it. His sun kissed skin, his curls in full force from the Bali climate, and that stupid smile (that you loved so much) on his face had you smitten.
The break was over soon enough and you weren't that upset because the end of the break meant that you were coming home for a little bit. Something that you had been looking forward to again ever since Miami.
The warm sun hit your face as you walked around the paddock. Texas in October was still warm and you hoped it wouldn't get too hot today. You were giddy, mainly because of being back in the states, but you also just had a good feeling about the race today. Somehow you knew either Oscar or Lando were going to have a good day today, you had hoped both, but at least one would make you happy.
As you snapped some pictures of the crew around the garage you felt a presence behind you. Though you already knew who it was, that cologne had invaded your senses one too many times for you to forget who donned it. Deciding to let him be the one to say something, you pretended you didn't notice him behind you and took some more pictures.
"Think I might be a better photo subject, don't you think?" Of course the first thing out of his mouth was some cheeky comment.
You merely rolled your eyes, and as you turned to face him you quickly captured an off guard photo of him. Clicking the buttons to look back at the photo you grimaced, turning it around to show Lando. "I think this photo says different."
Lando moved in closer next to you to get a better look. "That's not fair! I wasn't ready!" He exclaimed, laughter laced in his words.
Shaking your head you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Every good photo subject should be camera ready at all times. This right here proves your statement wrong."
"Yeah whatever."
You had suddenly become hyper aware at just how close the two of you were. Your arms pressed against each other as the two of you huddled around your camera. It had been awhile since you had been in this close proximity to him and you weren't sure if it was that or the cologne but your head was spinning. Your gaze wandered from his big hands that now held your camera, up his arms, then neck, and they finally landed on his face. The tan he had acquired in Bali still glowed in the Texas sun and his curls moved slightly in the breeze. God, you had missed him. You had not only missed him physically, you missed the Lando you were in the presence of right now. The funny and sweet Lando. Not the Lando you had in Singapore.
"Hey can we talk real quick?"
Hearing his voice had snapped you out of the trance you didn't even know you were in. A blush crept onto your cheeks, you only hoped he hadn't caught you staring. You only nodded your head at him, hoping you had heard him correctly.
"I wanted to apologize for how I was in Singapore. That wasn't me back there. I think I was still mentally struggling from doing poorly in Azerbaijan and knowing I would and did do poorly in Singapore just added onto it. So again I'm sorry."
Wow. Where did this Lando come from? You were grateful for him apologizing, but there were still plenty of other things he needed to apologize for.
"Oh. It's okay (even though it really wasn't). Thank you for apologizing though." You weren't going to ruin this now rare good moment with Lando, so you quickly changed the subject. "So how was Bali?"
His eyes lit up. "Oh it was amazing. Wish I could have just stayed there. You would have loved it too, you should have come!"
Well, there was never an invite sent your way, so how were you supposed to have come? Is what you wanted to say, but instead you just said. "Think that might be frowned upon in the workplace."
Lando shook his head. "I doubt it. How was your break though?"
You shrugged, it definitely was nothing like Bali. "Just spent some time at home."
A frown stretched across Lando's face. "Now see, now I really wish you would have came."
You just ignored him, the idea that he was stood here telling you he wanted you to come but couldn't even invite you stung a little bit. So you changed the subject again and the two of you chatted until race time, and for a moment it was just like old times. Lando soon left to prepare for the race and you finished up the crew pictures.
Later as you stood there while the national anthem played you had no idea just how crazy your night was about to be.
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If there was a race Lando was looking forward to the least, he would have to say Austin. The main reason being he knew Logan and you would be up eachothers asses.
But after some self reflection during the break he had promised himself he would be on his best behavior from now on. Personal life and racing included. He had trained extra hard this past week, running the sim like no other, and trying make up to the team for how badly he had performed in the previous two races. Everyone knew the car was more than capable of performing, it was the driver who was at fault for the poor position. The driver who after Singapore may have went into a spiral after realizing he may have fucked everything up more even more than what he thought after Monza.
Lando couldn't help it, it was like when he saw you with other guys, specifically Logan, his brain short circuited and every promise he had made to himself about behaving went out the window. But after having that moment with you in the garage moments ago he realized he had to keep his shit together. It was the first real carefree funny moment the two of them shared in months. He didn't want to go that long without it again, without you near him, without hearing your laugh that he had caused. So if all you were ever going to be in his life was a friend, Lando guessed he could live with it.
Him living with it lasted until the post race celebrations.
He had tried, really he had. In fact he held up the racing end of his promise by winning. His first Grand Prix win to be exact. In the post race interviews he credited his win to all the extra hard work he had been putting in and of course the team, but his big motivator may have been winning to impress you. Even if he had said he was fine with being friends, he still wanted to show to you that he wasn't the loser that you had seen in the last two races. Show you that in many ways he was better than Logan, and what better way than to win the race both of them were competing in. And the fact that it was an American race was just an added bonus to him. He was grasping at straws at this point, but the little sliver of hope kept him sane, until it didn't.
How a big group of drivers, significant others, and friends ended up at some club, karaoke bar, line dancing, and mechanical bull place all wrapped into one he will never know. But he was sure you had something to do with it. It was a far cry from the places he was used to overseas or hell even in Miami or Vegas, but he had just won the Grand Prix, he was going to have a good time no matter where he was at.
The drinks were going down smooth tonight, and at one point he had lost count of how many he had consumed. It seemed like they just magically kept appearing in front of him, he was constantly being brought drinks or shots from people wanting to congratulate him on his win. At this point he was starting to feel a little unsteady on his feet. Perhaps he may have gone too hard too fast with the alcohol tonight. He wasn't plastered yet, but he was getting there quick. He was about ready to down another shot when his teammate came up behind him. "Think you may need to slow down on the drinking for awhile."
Oscar walked alongside Lando, well more like guided him, towards the karaoke section of the place. Sitting him down at one of the booths as he slid in next to him. Lando slumped forward, his face resting wobbly in his hands. You were seated at the same booth but directly across from them.
"Jesus Lan, we've been here two hours. How much have you had to drink?" You asked.
Lando held up his pointer finger, indicating one.
Oscar and you shook your heads at the curly haired driver. "Very funny." You stated.
Lando now donned a sour look on his face, they had misunderstood his gesture. "No. I'm number 1!"
"Yes Lando you won today." Oscar reassured his teammate.
Oscar and you sipped your drinks while you prayed Lando would sober up enough that you didn't need to be worried about him. The pair was having to either decline the drinks that people were sending over for the winner or drink them themselves. They soon found themselves a little on the tipsy side from perhaps doing the same thing Lando was guilty of moments ago.
"You guys are freaking idiots." Lando mumbled. The once responsible friends that were looking after Lando were now in the same boat as him. Perhaps Lando was slightly more sober than them at this point.
After your second tequila sunrise the idea of karaoke sounded like the best thing ever. You knew Oscar wouldn't be up for it and Lando didn't look the happiest right now, so you searched the place for the one person who you knew would be up for it. You were able to spot him easily, his tall frame making him stand out in the crowd.
"Logan!"
You were tipsy enough to forget that yelling for a person in a loud club did absolutely nothing. And as you yelled again Lando tried to just tune you out, ignore the annoyance and jealousy arising in him over you hollering another man's name. He was supposed to be on his best behavior, but he should have known from before that alcohol and his good behavior don't mix.
You had finally gotten Logan's attention and as Lando saw the American driver walk towards their table he fiddled with his phone. Not even bothering to acknowledge him as he greeted him.
"Will you please do karaoke with me?" He heard you ask Logan and without even looking up he knew you were giving Logan those damn puppy dog eyes that you used to give him when you wanted him to do something for you.
He heard Logan laugh and from the corner of his eye he saw him reach out his hand for you to grab. "Yes, but only for my favorite girl."
Lando's blood ran cold at Logan's use of words. His favorite girl? His? The simple three letter word made his body tense and as the pair walked away Lando finally looked up. He had wished he hadn't as he saw Logan's arm around your shoulder as the two of them walked.
"Mate I thought you had gotten your shit together? I can feel how tense you are from over here." Oscar's speech was clear, he clearly hadn't drank as much as Lando thought.
"I'm perfectly fine." Lando stated as he looked back down at his phone.
"Yeah and my ears didn't pop from the pressure displacement in the air when you heard Logan call Y/N his favorite girl."
Lando did not like that fact that he was trapped in this booth with the one person who could read him like a book. "Can you let me out?"
Oscar scoffed at Lando's question. "You don't want to listen to Y/N and Logan sing? We have an excellent view of the stage." He took another swig of his drink as he eyed his teammate.
Not even twenty seconds later the two Americans took the stage and Lando suddenly found his phone to be more interesting. They had decided to sing some song about saving horses and riding cowboys, whatever it was Lando had tried to tune it out. But when he would hear you laugh in between parts of the song his eyes would venture from his phone up to the stage. He never looked for long, his jealousy getting the best of him when he would see how close Logan and you were. Not even physically, at this point they were clearly emotionally close, perhaps even closer than Lando and you ever were. At least that's what Lando's worst case scenario brain told him.
Lando managed to make it through their karaoke session without blowing a gasket. But as you returned to the table your smile faded as you looked at Lando, who looked less than thrilled as you approached him.
Sliding back into the booth you eyed him. Your mouth working faster than your brain. "Why are you always so unhappy when I'm around anymore? Or when we go out? If you don't want me to come out just tell me." The apology he had given you earlier didn't even exist at this point and the one good moment that you didn't want to ruin from earlier was gone too. You had enough liquid courage in you to finally say what had been eating away at you for months.
Lando was slightly taken aback by your sudden abruptness. He wasn't sure what to say at first. His teeth found the inside of his bottom lip as he tried to choose his words carefully. "I'm not unhappy when you're around, I love having you around. Also, I wouldn't invite you out if I didn't like having you around Y/N." He figured leaving out the mention of him hating when Logan is out with you was a good idea.
You huffed before grabbing one of the shots that had just been dropped off at the table. You downed it easily, slamming the shot glass back down on the table. "Really? Because you sure don't show it."
Oscar was still seated next to Lando, taking sips of his drinks as he watched the two of them go back and forth. He knew this was a long time coming, but he didn't expect to get a front row seat to it.
Lando sat up straight in the booth, suddenly getting defensive. "Why would I not want you around?"
You drummed you fingers against the table as you stared him down. "You always get so pissy when we are out. Like I'm not allowed to have fun or something. Or not allowed to have a little free time while I'm working."
"That's not true." Even though it was.
You rolled your eyes, you clearly were getting nowhere with this conversation and perhaps you should have waited until you both were sober. "You know what nevermind. I should have never brought it up."
Your sarcastic tone went straight through Lando, but he didn't even get a chance to respond back as you had already scooted out of the booth and was lost in the sea of bodies.
"That went well." Oscar stated, but when Lando didn't respond Oscar just kept going. "You remember what I said on the way to the airport in Monza? Either tell you how you feel or get your shit together? You know she's not a confrontational person, so she has clearly had enough of your shit to even bring it up." He took the last swig of his drink and as he got up from the booth he gave Lando one last final warning. "You're gonna lose her and this little conversation the two of you just had was proof enough."
Lando now sat alone in the booth, the only thing surrounding him was empty glasses. How did his nights that were supposed to be filled with celebration and good times always end up filled with drama and regrets? Oscar's words ate away at him as sat there twiddling his thumbs. How much more of this back and forth shit could he take? How much more could you take? Lando scanned the table and found one lonesome shot untouched. He wasn't even sure what it was until that familiar burn hit his throat.
Tequila.
Tequila always seemed to make him make bad decisions, so he knew tonight was either going to end badly or great. Either way he was finally going to man up and tell you how he felt.
It didn't take long to find you, considering you had made yourself the center of attention in the whole place. He heard your laughs before he saw you, but from the crowd of men gathered around the mechanical bull he knew exactly where you were.
He pushed his way to the front and sure enough there you were. When he saw you on that thing he couldn't help but stare. The operator of the machine clearly knew what he was doing, giving everyone a show. The way your thighs clenched onto the sides of the bull to help you stay on. Your ass and tits jiggling when the operator moved the bull a certain way. Not to mention just watching your body sway, you'd think you were a pro at this. Lando's mind started to wonder to how you'd look on top of him and that's when he realized it wasn't just him watching you look like that. You were surrounded by a big group of men, some of them his fellow competitors, that he was sure were also thinking the same impure thoughts as him.
He spotted the Ferrari drivers first, both of them leaning over the railing watching you intently. Then he spotted Logan, eyes wide as he watched your ass shake in the air.
This was the beginning of the end of Lando's good behavior promise. Lando could feel his blood starting to boil, knowing all these men were undoubtedly getting their dicks hard over you. He didn't mean to cause a scene, really he didn't. But before he even realized what he was doing he had jumped the railing and had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the bull. Your legs kicking him and insults flew through the air as you protested his actions. He had carried you towards a relatively empty area and as he sat you down he prepared himself for the fallout of his actions.
"What the fuck is your problem?" You shouted, anger and liquor doing nothing to conceal how you felt.
Lando raised his hands in defense. "Y/N. I was just trying to protect you-"
"Why would I need protecting? Especially coming from you? The way you've acted towards me these past couple months I figured you'd rather me be dead!"
The handful of people who were around had started to stare, if Lando had thought he caused a scene moments ago, it was nothing compared to now.
Lando tried to explain himself. "You should have seen how those guys were looking at you."
You scoffed at his comment. "Well have you thought maybe I wanted them to look? I'm allowed to have a little fun Lando, maybe you should try it sometime. In fact I'm surprised you haven't found your random girl to hookup with on my hotel room door yet." Your words were laced with venom, he had finally pushed you hard enough.
His eyes narrowed at you. "Why are you bringing up what happened in Monza? All I was trying to do was save you from a night filled with fighting off all those sleazy guys. They only wanted one thing from you, especially the other drivers."
Shaking your head at Lando, a laugh escaped past you lips. "Yeah I guess you would know about using women wouldn't you?"
Lando ignored you dig at him, fully knowing what you had said was true.
"I just think you should be careful about who you are friends with. The way Logan was looking at you-" More often than not Lando was quite the hypocrite when it came to his issues with you.
Your jaw tightened at the mention of Logan, there was no reason to bring him into this.
Tonight was the final straw, you had truly had enough. This wasn't a healthy friendship and as much as it pained you, it was becoming more of a reality that this chapter of your life was needing to come to an end. As you cut the McLaren driver's sentence off you knew this may be the last time you spoke to him.
"You know what Lando, you are right. I do need to be more careful about who I'm friends with." You moved closer to him, the two of them merely inches apart, your finger poking at his chest as you spoke. "And he's standing right here."
Lando could have swore all the air left his body as you spoke those five words to him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Surely he had heard you wrong. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered, his eyes never leaving yours, trying to search for a joking gleam in your eyes. But dark, cold, and empty eyes were all that stared back at him.
"I do." You whispered, you hand lingering on his chest, you could feel his heart racing, yours doing the same.
Lando stood there dumbfounded as you walked away. He didn't protest, purely from the fact that he was still processing what had just happened. Had he finally lost you? From the looks of it he had and he hadn't even told you how he felt. Why couldn't he be normal for once? He always had to make everything about him, about how he felt.
He figured at this point what else did he have to lose? He was still going to tell you how he felt about you. Maybe if he was lucky you would feel the same, but with Lando's track record he knew his chances were slim.
You had a good head start on him, but his legs carried him as fast as they could out of the building and down the street towards the hotel. He silently thanked god that there weren't any fans outside the hotel and by the time he reached you room he was out of breath as he knocked on you door.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid? The tears thankfully hadn't started to fall until you had reached your hotel room, but now as you sat on your bed they wouldn't stop coming.
You knew what you did was the right thing, but you still felt stupid. Stupid for even developing feelings for Lando in the first place, stupid for allowing your relationship to turn into what it had. Why you ever let it get to this point was beyond you. It hurt, god did it hurt, but life teaches you lessons and this clearly was one. As you typed up a draft resignation letter on your phone you heard a rapid knock at your door. You had texted Oscar earlier letting him know you were coming back to the hotel, that things had gone sour between Lando and you. So, you figured that was him coming to check up on you.
But oh boy were you wrong. On the other side of the door stood an out of breath Brit, who was the cause of the tears you were now rapidly trying to wipe away. You had tried to slam the door in his face, but he quickly stuck his foot in the doorframe, a groan coming from him as the door hit his foot.
Good I hope it hurt you thought.
"Y/N please. I need to talk to you." His grip on the door was much stronger than yours and he easily was able to make his way into your room.
"Why so you can shame me or be rude to me or bad mouth one of my friends again? Think you did enough of that earlier." You stood your ground, arms crossed across your chest.
Lando closed the door behind him and as he eyed you he fully took you in. The red puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks. God he had fucked up. "What was said earlier got blown way out of proportion. That's not how I intended for you to take my words."
"It wasn't just what you said earlier Lando, it's been a combination of a lot of other things. I don't know what switched between us, but it's not the same as it used to be. You're an ass to me more than not anymore. I don't know what I did to make you act like that, but you won't have to deal with me much longer. I'm writing my resignation letter. It'll be sent in the morning and I'll be gone."
Lando had started to panic, the realness of the situation they had found themselves in had really started to set in. "No no no no! You don't have to quit your job. You love what you do."
A loud sigh passed your lips, clearly annoyed at him. "Well when the main person I work with can't ever seem to be happy with what I do or associate myself with, then perhaps quitting is what needs to be done." Maybe it was some of the alcohol still in your system or maybe you just wanted to be an ass back to him finally, but the tears had subsided and your mood had turned slightly petty. "Which now that I think about it, why do you care so much about who I hang out with? I mean it's ok for you to fuck any woman with pulse, but I suddenly become close with other drivers and now it's time to slut shame me? Wonder what the press would think about that?"
The smirk that was on you face made Lando irate, you were so fucking stubborn sometimes. All he had wanted to do was come up here and confess how he felt, fix his fuck up from earlier, but now he was riled up again.
"When in the fuck have I slut shamed you? I mean what do you want me to say? That you can go fuck my competitors? If thats all thats stopping you then please don't let me get in your way." Lando regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for you to go fuck someone else.
That wasn't at all what you were trying to get at. In fact it was the opposite, but if he was going to bring it up, you were going to play along, anything to get under his skin. What better way to hurt a man's ego than to talk about how much you would want to get with his competitors. You grabbed your phone off the bed, unlocking it and scrolling through your contacts. "Maybe I will. I mean I have endless choices don't I? I know Charles would have loved to fuck me in Monza. Or perhaps Logan? You said yourself he was eyeing me tonight. Or maybe Charles and Carlos both? You should have seen how they were with me in the taxi when we were in Monza."
Lando thought he was going to lose his mind, he felt like he was going to break his jaw from how hard he had it clenched. Just hearing you say those things had him on the edge of snapping. "Hmm. I think I'll go with Logan. Think he would know how to please me." Before you could even pretend to start texting him Lando's hand was on your wrist, prying you phone from your hands. His breath labored as he pulled you close to him.
"You are not fucking any of them."
Your eyes widened at his actions, his hands around your wrists, his pupils blown as he stared you down, and the smell of tequila on his breath. The petty joking manner you had moments ago was now long gone.
The angry tension in the air had now transitioned into something foreign, something deeper. And unknown to you but you had been the one to change it.
"Well why not?" You had tried to bring back the previous atmosphere, but the Lando that stood inches away from you was one you had never seen before.
"Because the only driver you can fuck is me."
Your breath caught in your throat at his words. If there was a world record for how fast someone could blush you were sure you had just broken it, except your whole body felt like it was blushing. It radiated through your body directly to your core.
Your mind felt like tv static, you didn't know what to say or do. Lando was still inches away from you, your wrists still tightly in his grasp. "What?" Was all you could muster up and even that was barely coherent.
"Oh come on. You aren't gonna make me spell it out for you are you?" With just a wide eyed blank stare as your response he freed your wrists, but his hands now glided over your arms and shoulders and up to your neck. The feeling of his hands dancing over your skin made your eyes flutter shut. This was far more different than your knees touching or a lingering hug.
This wasn't how Lando had expected to be telling you how he felt, he hadn't even had anything like this one his mind, but you talking so freely about fucking his friends flipped a switch in him. "You gonna make me tell you how I've been obsessed with you since I saw you sitting in that meeting on your first day? How I drove myself crazy trying to distance myself from you, but you're so fucking intoxicating you just kept drawing me back in. How I basically ruined our friendship because I couldn't stand to see you with fucking Logan."
He paused, but still maintained eye contact as he pressed a chaste kiss on your hand. "Is it wrong of me to assume you've wanted me as bad as I've wanted you?" It was almost his way of asking permission to continue, and you granted it easily by letting out a faint 'no'. With that simple word his kisses moved from your hand up your arm and finally landing on your neck. It was somewhat embarrassing how hot and bothered his words and just some simple kisses were making you.
"Or how about how I could only think of you when I got with other women. Wishing it was you I had pressed up against your hotel room door in Monza. How the idea of any other man even looking at you in a sexual way made me want to break their jaw. You want me to tell you how fucking stupid I was for not telling you how I felt sooner. For basically putting us through hell and back because I couldn't keep my shit together when you talked to Logan."
His kisses had gotten sloppier, and he started to pay more attention to your neck. A small moan emitting from you when he found that sweet spot. You could feel his smirk against your neck as your moans filled his ears.
As your mind slowly processed all that he had just said, a lot more things started to click. First of all your inklings about him feeling the same were very much correct. But to think you hadn't put him being an ass because he was jealous of Logan together had you baffled. Usually you were very observant, but clearly not observant enough. You felt like your body was on autopilot as he still worked on your neck, you were supposed to be mad at him, supposed to be leaving him, leaving all the shitty moments behind. But as you stood here now you were glad he had come up to your room. Glad that you didn't fight that hard to not let him into your room. Because even if you had cut him out of your life and left, you knew deep down those feelings for him would never go away. No matter what had happened between the two of you.
Your hands pressed against his abdomen as he was surely giving you something on your neck that was going to need to be covered in the morning. "Wish I would have told you how I felt sooner." Your words were breathy as his hands now wandered up under your shirt. "You weren't the only one being driven crazy. You were-" It was hard for you to focus on your words, your brain only wanting to focus on how good Lando's hands and lips felt on you. "You were constantly fucking with my head, making me think you liked me and then getting with other women. Made me feel like shit when I saw you with them and then you made me feel like shit for months because you're an asshole."
His attack on your neck had halted, the two of you making eye contact once again. Your eyes glanced down at his lips, they were red and swollen, as much as you wanted to hate him, your desire to kiss him was much stronger.
"I know baby and I'm sorry for ever making you feel like that.'
Your eyebrow raised at the term of endearment. "Baby? Moving a little fast there aren't you Norris?"
A smirk had spread across his face. "You've been my baby in my mind for a long time. So forgive me for being eager."
Rolling your eyes at the brunette you linked your hands behind his neck, once again staring at his lips. "You gonna finally kiss me or do I need to go find Logan?"
The mere mention of the American had Lando pulling you into him, your lips meeting in an instant. It took a second for your brain to catch up, but once it did you practically melted into him. You had thought for a long time what it would feel like to kiss Lando, and you were happy to say it was better than you had imagined. His right hand was cupping your face while his left held onto your side. If you were weak in the knees before you surely were now as the two of you pulled away from each other, grinning like idiots. "Why did we deprive ourselves of this for so long?" You asked as your thumb caressed his cheek.
Lando leaned into your touch. "I don't know. I guess we both like to suffer." He gently removed your hand from his face placing an open mouth kiss to your palm. "I still need you to know how sorry I am for being such an ass. Let me show you how sorry I am you." He started to trail kisses back up your arm and you honestly didn't need any convincing. With a simple 'ok' from you Lando's lips were back on yours as he leaded you back towards your bed, your lips never separating.
The back of your knees hit the end of the bed causing you to fall back onto the bed. Using your forearms to prop yourself up you stared back at the driver who was stood at the end of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and his shirt was being pulled over his head in a matter of seconds. He didn't even give you time to gawk at his toned abdomen before he was climbing onto the bed, his chain dangling over you as your lips reconnected. Wrapping your fingers around the chain you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Your need for him growing more and more by the minute. The desire for his touch consumed you and as you started to squirm under him you heard a soft laugh come from him.
"That needy huh?" His teasing tone causing the aching throb between your legs to intensify. With only a whine coming from you as a response he looped his fingers through your belt loops, slightly tugging on them. "Which should come off first? Pants or shirt?"
You were in no mood for his teasing, the idea of having to wait any longer for his hands to be on you again sounded like torture. "Both."
"Both? That's my girl."
My girl repeated in your head as you struggled to get your shirt off. Those two simple words causing your arousal to grow even more and as he pulled off your pants you sure you had already soaked your panties. But Lando wasn't focused on that yet, to his surprise when he looked up to see you taking off your shirt, you hadn't worn a bra. Your breasts were already on full display. "Jesus." He groaned as he climbed his way back up to you. "Should have known you didn't wear a bra tonight the way your tits were bouncing on that bull." He wasted no time, immediately placing his large hands on them. As he pinched and tugged one nipple with one hand, his mouth had found its way onto the other. It was a sight you couldn't tear your eyes away from, something you only dreamed about. A whimper escaped past your lips and Lando could have died right there a happy man as your whimpers filled his ears.
As much as you were enjoying the pleasure he was giving you, it was creating a much bigger need someplace else. If your panties weren't soaked earlier, they definitely were now. The aching between your legs was becoming almost unbearable. Your hands found there way to his hair, fingers running through his messy curls. "Lan." You breathed out. His actions halted at the sound of you calling for him, blown pupils staring up at you.
"What baby?" No audible response came from you, but when he saw you clench your thighs he knew exactly what you wanted. "Oh, I think I know what you want." His fingers trailed from your breasts all the way down to the waistband of your panties, his fingers toying with it, gently snapping it against your skin.
"Thought you weren't gonna be an ass anymore?" His teasing making you crazy.
Even though he was looking down you could see the smirk on his face, the little shit was enjoying every minute of making you squirm. You watched as his hands landed on your thighs and in one swift motion they were hooked under your knees and he had pulled you even closer to him, causing your legs to be wide open for him.
Lando felt his dick twitch at the sight of your soaked panties, and once he pulled them off he thought he had died and gone to heaven at just how fucking wet you were, from him. He hadn't even properly touched you yet and you were already a mess. His hands masssaged you inner thighs and ghosted around the area you wanted him the most. "God, you're gonna be the death of me. You know how fucking soaked you are?" He took a single finger and quickly ran it up your slit, your wetness that lathered his finger quickly entered his mouth.
Your skin was on fire from just that his one little action, and as you watched him suck your wetness from his finger you thought your heart was gonna beat out of your chest. "Lan please."
"Please what?"
You threw your head back in frustration, he had to be getting off on this. "I want your mouth" you glanced down at his long thick fingers that had found a home on your thighs once more "and your fingers."
"Whatever my girl wants." He scooted down on the bed and as he lowered his head between your thighs the pit in your stomach grew. He wasted no time in getting to work, or in finding your clit. As he gently sucked on the sensitive bud you couldn't hold in your moans. The boy was a fucking expert with his tongue and from the way he was devouring you, you could tell he was enjoying it. Your fingers grabbed his curls as he fucked your hole with his tongue, his nose brushing against your clit. It was embarrassing how fast he had you close to coming undone. Your chest heaving as you felt your orgasm coming, and he hadn't even used his fingers yet, but almost like he knew what you wanted, you felt two fingers slide inside of you. Your moans getting louder as he still worked your clit and finger fucked you at the same time. When he added a third finger and curled his fingers, reaching that soft spongy spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
He had raised his head to look up at you, a smirk splayed across his glistening face, covered in your slick. "That's my pretty girl. Come on, I know you're close. Gonna come all over my fingers and face aren't you."
His words of praise went straight to your core and as you clenched around his fingers a small laugh came from him. "Someone likes to be praised." You couldn't even be bothered to give him a witty comment back, you were on the edge of coming undone. His mouth went back to work and in a matter of seconds you were unraveling beneath him. Your legs shook as he still worked you through your orgasm. His name tumbling out of your mouth like a chant.
Your breathing was labored as you tried to come down from your high. Glancing down at Lando, he had never looked hotter to you than right now. His face and fingers covered in you, his hair a mess and lips swollen from him devouring your pussy. And the mess between your thighs that was caused by him, had you craving more.
Lando's erection was painfully throbbing at this point, still trapped behind his boxers and jeans. How he didn't just blow his load at the sight of you unraveling because of him, he wasn't sure. But one thing he did know was that he needed to be inside you, immediately. "I know you're still coming down but I need you so badly." His hands fumbling with the button on his jeans.
You simply shook your head at him, hands reaching out to help him get his pants off. "I don't care what you do as long as you can make me come like that again."
The words of praise went straight to Lando's cock, he truly didn't think he had ever been this hard in his life. The way you were looking up at him through your lashes as you toyed with the waistband of his boxers had him groaning. "Y/N stop."
A look of innocence spread across your face. "What? I was just giving you a taste of your own medicine." Your hand brushed past his still clothed erection and the whimper that came from him was like music to your ears. You soon granted him relief has you tugged his boxers down, his cock slapping against his stomach. Your eyes widened as you took all of him in. He was clearly blessed with not only good size, but girth. The mere thought of him stretching you out had you practically drooling.
You wanted to please him the same way he had you, but you had barely rubbed your thumb over his tip before his his large hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your actions. "I really just want to be inside of you."
Not one to oblige you scooted back on the bed, head resting on the pillows as you watched him come towards you. The anticipation was killing you and as he rubbed his tip between your folds it had only made it worse. "You know how beautiful you are? Think you might be even more beautiful when you take my cock won't you baby?"
Eagerly nodding at his words you couldn't take your eyes off his cock as his tip teased your entrance. You knew he was going to be a tease, so you rolled your hips towards him, patience not being your strong suit when it came to him. "That hungry for my cock huh?"
In one swift motion he had pushed himself in you, completely bottoming out. "Oh my god!" It had caught you off guard, even with how wet you were it still hurt a little as his cock stretched you out.
You hadn't even realized you had clenched around him until he spoke up. "Fuck. I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that." His face scrunched up in pleasure.
"Sorry." You stated, pressing a kiss to his forearm.
Lando had started to move his hips and as the first waves of pleasure jolted through your body you couldn't help but think this is not how you saw your night going when you woke up this morning.
The room was filled with a mix of both yours and Lando's moans and the sound of slapping skin. You weren't trying to be dramatic, but you truly thought Lando's cock was made for you. The way he filled you up just right with each stroke was making your head spin.
Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you could feel yourself getting close again, the familiar pit in your stomach growing as he pounded into you relentlessly. The pleasure overwhelming you. But just at the brink of coming undone for the second time tonight he abruptly pulled out.
"You've got to be jok-"
He lightly slapped your thigh. "Ass up."
He didn't have to tell you twice as you quickly flipped over, face buried in the pillows, back arched with your ass in the air. The cool air on your now very exposed pussy sent a shiver down your spine.
Lando was enjoying the view as he lightly toyed with your clit earning a muffled moan from you. His hands gripped your waist to enter you once more when something in the corner of the room caught his eye. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand and the other under your stomach he pulled you up and back towards him until your back was flush against his chest, practically sitting in his lap. His still very prominent erection rubbing between your folds. As he positioned the both of you to face the corner of the room that's when you saw it.
Your reflection staring back at you. The horny little shit wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror. You couldn't lie the thought of it was hot. So, you took the initiative, as you raised your hips you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.
The both of you watching in the mirror as you sank down onto him. The image right up there with Lando eating you out as one of the hottest things you'd seen. A string of curse words was heard from Lando and all you could do was grip his legs as you felt him buck up inside you.
As you rolled your hips you couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror and neither could Lando. The new position allowing for him to feel even deeper inside you, if that was possible. One of his hands reached around and started to rub your clit, the added pleasure causing your eyes to flutter shut.
"Nope. Open your eyes pretty girl. I want you to watch."
When you didn't open them he told you again, but when you didn't open them the third time, his other hand was now suddenly wrapped around your throat. His large hand easily covering the front of your throat. The slight pressure he applied to the sides of your throat caused your eyes to fly open, but combine that with you riding his cock and his other hand still working on your clit you were once again on the brink of an orgasm. The sight of you in the mirror was nothing less than pornogrpahic and if Lando could, he would have taken a picture.
The feeling though was gone again, in a matter of seconds. He had basically thrown you off his cock, then pulled you off the bed, the both of you now directly in front of the mirror. You were impressed with Lando's stamina and you knew from him practically edging you (and himself) twice now, when he finally did let you come it was going to be mind blowing.
He had you bent over, hands gripping the sides of the mirror, as he spread your legs. This time there was no teasing your clit, he wasted no time, his cock slamming into you as soon as your legs were spread. His thrusts were relentless, you weren't sure if you would even be able to walk tomorrow. But from the way his fingers were gripping your waist you for sure knew there would be bruises there tomorrow. Your moans only encouraging him more as he slapped your ass, the sting only adding to your pleasure.
"God, look at you. Taking my cock like that. Who else can fuck you like this huh? Make you an absolute mess?"
You were too fucked out to respond, your legs feeling weak as you watched him in the mirror. Lando's hand reached around towards you neck, finding its previous home from moments ago. "I said who else can fuck you like this?" He gave your throat a light squeeze.
"No one. Only you." You finally mustered up, brain too consumed by pleasure to actually form a sentence.
You watched as the smirk formed on his face at your words. "There's my good girl." Your pussy fluttering at the pet name, which in turn earned a 'fuck' from Lando.
His other hand reached down to your clit, once again giving it some attention. As your orgasm approached you prayed this would be the time he finally would let you come. Your whimpers a telltale sign to Lando you were ready. "Gonna be a good girl and come for me? Come on baby. Let everyone know who's making you feel this good. Want everyone to know your mine."
With his words of praise your orgasm washed over you, hard. The pleasure was so intense you couldn't even hold yourself up anymore. Your body convulsing as your ears started to ring. Lando's name echoing out of your mouth in a less than quiet volume. It didn't help that he was still fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation bringing you almost to tears at how good it felt. Lando came seconds later, hot sticky cum filling you up. Profanties mixed with your name bounced around the room as he milked every ounce out of his orgasm.
As he pulled out a whimper came from you at the sudden empty feeling, while a groan came from him at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.
Lando basically carried you back to the bed, afraid your legs would give out if you tried to walk. His arms immediately wrapping around you as you rested your head on his chest. "Think I accomplished your request didn't I?" Lando asked with a smirk on his face. His fingers rubbing gently circles on your back.
"You did more than accomplish it Norris. I think everyone in the hotel knows that." A blush creeping onto your cheeks at the fact that you were not so quiet moments ago.
"Poor Oscar." Lando laughed. Oh god, you had forgotten Oscar's room was right next to yours. "Actually don't worry about it. He should be happy we are finally together."
Raising your head to look at him you gave him a questioning look. "Together? I never remember getting asked anything. Only being told I could only fuck you."
Lando rolled his eyes at your dramatics. "Yes and that statement still stands." His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He hadn't planned for tonight to go the way it did, but as he laid here in bed with you in his arms he wouldn't have it any other way. He wanted this all the time. "In all seriousness. I do want you to be mine. My girlfriend."
You would have never thought you'd be in this position. It had been a tough couple months for the two of you and just hours ago you were ready to erase him from your life as best as your could. But you still loved him, even more now if that was possible.
"Well it's a good thing I want you to be mine too huh?" His eyes lit up at your words, smiling for ear to ear. His lips were on yours in an instant, something you don't think you'll ever get used to. "Even though you were an asshole." You said as you pulled away.
Lando let out a sigh. "Well I guess I'm still gonna have to show you how sorry I am aren't I?" His cheeky expression not matching his tone of voice.
"I think so." You stated as your lips met once again.
An ignored text alert sounded off from the bedside table of the two lovers. It wouldn't be read until morning, laughter coming from Lando as your cheeks turned red.
Oscar: well I'm glad I'm not in the middle of whatever the hell that friends to crushes to miserable fucks to enemies shit you two had going on anymore. but please for the love of god remind me to never take the room by either of you again!!!!!!
Yes. Please 🫶
y’all gotta tell me if this is a fic worth writing: reader having a shitty love life where she’s basically inexperienced and haven’t really made herself ~finish bc she’s struggling and she talks to lando about it so he’s like very invested, buys her toys to try and rate and when it’s not working he’s all “>:( fine I’ll do it then” as if he’s not secretly desperate to get into bed with his best friend
#1 fan fr
Cocoa
Pierre Gasly x Fem!Reader
Warnings: soft boyfriend!pierre, reader is insistent on this one thing, the couch is getting some action, thigh riding, penetrative sex (P in V), choking.
Word Count: 1,638
Author's Note: don't get upset, pierre lowkey gives me the ick so this is my public serve act of the month - writing him :)
merry smutmas series
--
You have your boyfriend drive all around the city until you find the one thing you were looking for. When you finally find it, you decide you want something else.
The noise pulls him away from the simulator, Pierre could hear your grumbling as he made his way to the kitchen. "Mon amour, que se passe-t-il ? Qu'est-ce que tu cherches?" (My love, what's going on? What are you looking for?) He asked as he leant on the wall, arms folded over his chest.
Your back was to the man, "I'm fine." You tell him, sitting on the counter as you dug through the cupboards.
"Is something missing?" He walks over, standing by the counter as he watches you shuffle things around.
"I had this cocoa powder," you shut the door, shifting on the cold marble to face him. "It was in a red tin, I can't remember the name of it but I swear I left it in there."
Pierre's brows furrow, head tilted to the side. "You're sure you left it in there? And you didn't use it all?"
"No, I know I left it in there." You tell him, hopping off of the counter. Your boyfriend shrugs, "I could take you to the store to look some more, if you wanted."
"Okay," you nodded, "let's go."
He looks over at you, watching as you grab your coat. "Oh, now?" He points to the door and you nod, "yeah, come on."
Pierre smiles, shaking his head as he grabs his own coat and his car keys. Only you'd have him running around to look for cocoa powder. Knowing you, it had to be the specific brand you were looking for otherwise you wouldn't buy it.
You were particular like that - part of why Pierre loved you so much.
There you were, walking up and down every single aisle in the store, Pierre following behind you with the shopping cart. You had yet to find what you were looking for but your boyfriend managed to fill the cart up halfway with some bits and pieces he needed.
You were in the aisle with coffee, tea and other things like that. "What was it called again?" He asked, looking up and down the shelves.
"I have no idea," you admit, scanning the shelves for a red tin. Pierre hums, picking up something red. "Was it this?" He shows you, leaning on the handle of the shopping cart.
Looking over, you reach for the tin to get a better look at it. You read the label, looking at the picture. "No," you shook your head, "but I remember it had a picture of a reindeer on it, with some trees or something like that."
Pierre nods, "okay." He takes the tin from you, putting it back on the shelf. You look around some more and Pierre follows you into another aisle before you eventually call it quits and cash out.
Despite not finding the cocoa powder, you still ended up with a trunk full of stuff.
You two checked a few other stores, making your way from one end of the city to the other and you still did not find the thing you were looking for. You had gone as far as googling 'hot cocoa powder with reindeer and trees on packaging', scouring amazon, asking the workers in the store and no one had any idea what you meant or what you were looking for.
After coming out of the last store, you get back into the car - exhausted and you have given up. "Do you want to check anywhere else?" He asked you, looking over to you and you shook your head.
"I give up, Pierre." You sigh, making him chuckle. "But can you stop at the corner shop? I want a Red Bull.. oh and a Kit Kat."
Pierre smiles, "sure, love."
The man drives you towards the corner store, parking right outside before running into the store to pick up what you wanted. He returns a few minutes later, putting the bag into the back with the rest of the stuff before you head home.
Pierre brings the stuff into the house and you unpack it; that had been your deal since you moved in.
You find yourself putting away the stuff from the store, putting whatever had to go into the fridge, into the fridge before putting the rest of the stuff where it needed to go. There's one bag left, the one from the corner store.
Opening it, you take out the Kit Kat and then the Red Bull, but there's something else in the bag. A red tin with a picture of a reindeer in front of some trees.
It was the hot cocoa powder you were looking for.
You set the tin on the counter, running into the living room towards your boyfriend who sat on the couch. Pierre's caught off guard when you jump on him, sending him back on the couch. The man laughs, his arms around you as you sit on top of him.
"You found it!" You smile at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Figured I'd surprise you." He smiles, rubbing your hip. "I take it, it's the right one?"
"Yeah," you nod, leaning down to kiss him. Your hand rests on his jaw, Pierre's other hand finds your lower back, pulling you flat against him. His head tilts to the side when he feels your lips moving down to his neck.
"Wait," he says, pulling you back a bit. "Don't you want the hot-"
"I'm loving on you and you're stopping me to ask about hot chocolate?" You laughed, looking at your boyfriend like he was crazy.
He nods, "yeah you're right, that's wrong of me. Sorry." The man laughs, pulling you back in for a kiss.
His hands find your hips and you shift onto his thigh. He lifts his leg, the sudden change causes you to slide forward, rubbing against the fabric under you.
You rocked back and forth on his thigh as he kissed you, the two of you only separating for a moment to take your shirt off. Your hands made quick work on undoing the zipper on his hoodie, giving up halfway and pulling on it until he managed to take it off.
The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.
Pierre smiles, looking up at you sitting on his thigh. “What was that?” He teased and you shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your cheeks are red as you look away.
His eyes fixed on you, his hands guide you back and forth, slowly moving you faster with each push and pull. “So pretty,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders.
You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. Your hands on his shoulder, nails digging into the back of them. That was gonna leave a mark.
Pierre flips you two over so you're laying on your back, under him. You look up at him, confused. “Wha- why’d you stop?”
Your boyfriend pulls your leggings off, tossing it behind him somewhere and you giggle. "Oh," you look at him, watching him as he pushes his own pants down.
Your legs are up on his shoulders when the man leans down to kiss you, pushing into you. Your hips jut towards him, body betraying you. His arm wrapped around your legs, holding them in place when he pushes in a little more, letting you take all of him.
Pierre can already feel you clench around him, “relax,” he tells you, a hand rubbing your thigh.
You nod, chest rising and falling with each passing second, your boyfriend's hips dug into the back of your thighs. He watches as your face twists in pleasure, your own hand wrapped around his bicep and your nails dig into him.
"God-" you cut yourself off with a moan, the tip of his cock brushing against the one spot you really wanted it too. "That, do that again." You looked up at him and Pierre was certain he wasn't going to last much longer.
Hair framing your face, the light reflecting off of your skin, the way your back arched and your chest pressed to his.
Pierre thought he had died and gone to heaven; you were an angel on earth.
He leans down to kiss you again, muffling your moans in the process. His lips against yours when he speaks; "just like that baby, c'mon."
“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Pierre moves one of his hands, letting it wrap around your throat.
You were so close, on the edge of cumming. His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing your clit, rubbing on it and his thrusts were the same as before
Your hand wraps around his wrist, he squeezes at your neck a little harder, your legs dropping from his shoulders to back around his waist. Between him fucking you and his fingers on your clit; you were seeing stars right now, vision blurry and your head tossed back, his name fell from your lips like a prayer.
Pierre laid flat against you now, his face buried in your neck. Your hand rubbing along his bare, skin sticky and warm. "Babe," you whispered, the man moving around a bit.
"Hm?"
"Can you go warm up some milk for me?" You asked and Pierre laughs, his chest vibrating against yours. "Yeah, baby. Sure." He gets up, putting his boxers on before walking to the kitchen.
You watch from the couch, smiling to yourself as he fills a pot with some milk and sets it on the stove. Wrapping the throw blanket around yourself, you walk to the kitchen and hug your boyfriend from the side. He leans, his arm wrapped around you when he kisses your head.
"You're the best," you tell him, smiling at him. "I know," he says and you laugh, smacking him on the side.
--
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Beyond beautiful (:
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 // 𝐋𝐒𝟐
Summary: “I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you,” — Or, the one where two people are experiencing the worst year of their lives respectively. Falling in love shouldn't be that difficult on top of it all, right?
Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Fem! Reader (team photographer, skater girl™, has tattoos and is vaguely bilingual)
Word count: 23.3k
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: panic attacks, anxiety, self-deprecation, mention of medication, anxiety disorders and ADHD. Reader has a shitty family as well. Smut: penetrative sex, they're needy as hell, otherwise very vanilla. Fluff: she fell first, he fell harder, a bunch of silent crushing on each other, a very sappy and happy ending. Other: inaccurate timeline and race results.
A/N: I'm back! I planned this before Zandvoort and before Logan got dropped and didn't feel like changing it to fit reality, so Logan gets to finish the season in this fictional universe. He also get's to go to Indycar because I'm sad and maybe delusional. Please tell me what you think ♡
Oxfordshire, UK
The rain drizzled down as you cruised around the almost empty parking lot on your board, the drops making little sounds as they hit the brim of your rain hat. February in England wasn’t that great—no snow, just rain and cold weather. Awful, but doable for someone who had a skateboard stuck to their feet ninety percent of the year.
You were early, which was uncommon for you. But Angie had told you to come early, and you didn’t want to screw up on what was technically your first day on the job. Having someone you saw as an older sister as your boss had its pros and cons.
“Should you really be skating in the rain?” Angie called out, standing underneath the awning above the main entrance, shielded from the rain. Her Williams-blue raincoat was pulled up to her chin, and you could see her visibly shiver from the cold.
You had received a similar jacket, amongst a lot of other team gear, in advance for your first day. It wasn’t exactly your style, but you guessed that wasn’t the point of having team gear in the first place. Or any kind of work uniform, really. The coat kept you warm and dry, that was all that you could ask for.
“Can’t you see how slow I’m going?” you protested, laughing at her cautiousness.
You knew what you were doing. It wasn’t advised by anyone to skate when it was raining outside, but casually riding in a flat, empty parking lot at a slow speed, just to not get your shoes wet, wasn’t dangerous. Not for you, at least. You had been skating for close to two decades.
Angie had asked you to take some pictures of the building, and then take pictures of all the team members as they arrived at the factory.
You had held a camera in your hands for almost as long as your feet had stood on a skateboard. The two interests kind of coexisted and fed off each other as you grew older. Only photography was able to make you money, though.
You’d read in an article that the Williams factory was supposed to be modest in comparison to McLaren’s or Red bull’s spaceship-like buildings, but this was still huge to you. And you hadn’t even gotten inside the building yet.
As cars filled the parking lot, you snapped photos of the people going inside. Mechanics, engineers, people on the communications team—it seemed like everyone was present for this pre-season meetup. Maybe it was because it was the last one before the team flew off to Bahrain.
Some smiled at you as they spotted the big DSLR camera in your hands, others walked right past. Angie seemed to know almost everyone as she greeted them by the entrance. Sure, she was some kind of high-up marketing manager, but recognising so many people seemed excessive. Or maybe just impressive.
She’d given you a crash course in Formula 1 as she had hired you. You had heard her talk about her job on many occasions, even catching a race or two when it was on television, but you quickly realised that you didn’t know half as much as you probably needed to.
It was hard for you to even pinpoint who were the Williams’ drivers as they both came walking across the parking lot. Angie’s immediate perked attention and widened smile told you everything you needed to know. You would need to get good photos of them both.
You tried your best to remember who was who, and when you recalled that one raced under the Thai flag and the other for the US, it was quite easy.
Alex was tall, and happy. He walked with quick steps to get away from the light rain, greeting Angie with an effortless hug. He had no problem smiling when he saw you with the camera, raising his eyebrows at your stance on the skateboard.
Logan wasn’t far behind. He looked younger, and less confident in the way he carried himself. His steps were slower as he too made his way under the awning. He reminded you of kids you’d gone to school with, with their boyish charm and cluelessness. He was young, and sweet—maybe even beautiful.
You could see it all as you lifted your camera to spot him from the viewfinder. His smile didn’t form as easily as Alex’s had done, but when it did, and he flashed you his stupidly perfect and pearly white American teeth, you couldn’t help but feel how the corners of your lips turned upward. This was going to be a difficult year if you already were developing a minor crush on the first cute boy you’d seen.
“Who’s Paddington?” Alex asked Angie after he had greeted her.
You could overhear him perfectly fine as you pretended to take some photos of the main building.
“What? Oh, because the red bucket hat?” she chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s our new team photographer.”
Logan too gave Angie a quick hug. After all, she was one of the more tolerable people forcing them to do social media content.
He laughed at the nickname Alex gave you. Logan would’ve gone with Tony Hawk over Paddington, but maybe that was because he found the fictional little bear with a red hat and a blue coat to be a very British reference.
“She looks about twelve,” Alex remarked, watching as you adjusted something on the lens, your movements precise and confident despite your youthful appearance.
Angie laughed again, the sound warm and contagious. “She’s the same age as Logan.”
Logan playfully pouted at his two colleagues joking. He guessed the both of you looked young. Maybe too young to be in such a professional setting.
“She’s my best friend’s little sister. I’m mostly being kind by offering her a chance to work with us,” Angie continued to explain, raising her voice slightly to get your attention.
She didn’t really need to, because you had heard every single word of their conversation.
“That’s her way of secretly telling you that I’m severely underqualified for this job and I’m using it as an excuse to travel the world,” you said under your breath, your gaze still fixated on the viewfinder as you slowly skated towards them.
Same, was what Logan immediately wanted to say, but instead he just laughed, unsure of how well his self-deprecating humour would translate.
You stepped off your board, before popping it up with your foot on the tail end to grab it with your hand. You hadn’t expected them to laugh, because it wasn’t exactly a joke. You guessed it kind of came across as one, though.
You told Alex and Logan your name, gently reaching out your hand to shake theirs, but Angie’s hand pulling down the brim of your hat over your eyes stopped you in your tracks.
“I have a feeling you’re going to be stuck with Paddington around here,” she laughed.
“The Williams hat you gave me can’t stand the rain,” you argued, fixing the hat back into place.
It was true. The cotton of the team hat she had given you would’ve been drenched at this point. But you still appreciated her effort because she thought the hat was more your style than the classic baseball cap that most of the other employees sported.
“You’re such a child, you know that, right?”
That was something you’d heard all your life, because you somehow always turned out to be the youngest one at every family function. You didn’t take it as an insult when Angie said it, though. She had valued what you brought to the table for as long as you could remember. Maybe that was the only child within her showing through.
“That’s kind of on you, Angie,” you pointed out. “If you hadn’t been mostly kind, I wouldn’t be here to annoy you.”
You saw how Angie wanted to argue back, but was interrupted by the sound of your ringtone. Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. You had intention behind it when you initially picked it (something about rebellion and fuck the system), but now it was mostly a running joke that you couldn’t let go of, no matter how many times you swapped phones.
You also loved the embarrassment that flashed over Angie’s face as it interrupted her. Alex and Logan couldn’t help but laugh as you excused yourself to answer.
Logan watched as you slowly cruised over the parking lot, phone up to your ear as you talked to whoever it was over the phone. He heard you raise your voice, speaking in a language he didn’t recognise, or at least didn’t understand.
“Her family sort of… resents her? So, I did what I thought was right.”
Angie felt the need to explain as the three of them heard you start to argue. She knew it had to be your mother calling, because you had given up on arguing with your father already.
“Is she at least a good photographer?” Alex asked with a sigh.
“She’s the best.”
. . .
Melbourne, Australia
. . .
The season started with a whirlwind. You definitely hadn’t mentally prepared for the challenge it would be to travel nonstop, and even if you had some downtime, the anxiety of always being on the move didn’t leave your body. Before you had the chance to experience a new city, you had to be thinking of when you were going to the next one.
And you were rusty. You didn’t yet have the right mindset to be in the position you were in, constantly forgetting things and not getting the perfect photos. You’d done sports photography for a long time, but there was a difference in speed between x-games sports and fucking Formula 1.
That was why you found yourself back at the hotel in Melbourne, riding the lift to your floor to retrieve some equipment you’d forgotten in your room, your body teeming with nerves and embarrassment over what had just transpired. While Formula 1 was a travelling circus with a lot of important and famous people, you hadn’t expected to actually run into anyone that would leave you speechless. You were usually too good at talking.
As you exited the lift, you spotted Logan in the hallway, looking like he was about to enter his own hotel room. Your speedy steps interrupted his actions, and even if you two hadn’t really had a one-on-one conversation before, you had to tell someone about who you just ran into.
“I just made a fool out of myself in front of Keegan Palmer,” you exhaled loudly as your steps came to a stop in front of him.
“Who?” Logan questioned, holding the door to his room open, a little bit taken aback by your boldness.
“Olympic skateboarder,” you clarified. “He’s kind of a big deal, and he’s friends with Lando somehow.”
Logan remembered something about a famous skateboarder in the back of his mind as he let out a short laugh. “So, what did you do? Ask for a selfie?”
“I wish. No, I just ran into them in the lobby and couldn’t form a sentence because I was shocked. I literally froze,” you groaned, rubbing your temples as your emotions started to settle.
As they did, you took in Logan’s expression. While you hadn’t necessarily talked much before, you had taken a lot of photos of him. He always portrayed a certain charm, even when he was focused on racing or unaware of the camera. He didn’t do that now. Something seemed off with him from his blank stare at you. He was there, able to laugh at your awkward interaction, but he wasn’t present.
“Shouldn’t you be at the paddock?” Logan asked after a moment of silence.
“I forgot an SD card in my hotel room,” you explained. “Shouldn’t you be at the paddock?”
His face twisted in disbelief. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“I’m not driving,” he answered plainly, but the words landed heavily. “Alex is taking my car because they don’t have a spare chassis to repair the damage from his crash yesterday.”
You blinked out of confusion as you raised your eyebrows. “Is that even allowed? It’s your car.”
“I don’t know, but it’s probably for the better,” Logan shrugged with a certain nonchalance. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“You’re paying for a mistake that he made. It is a big deal,” you argued.
You’d practically ran up to him to talk about your embarrassing moment that you had failed to even acknowledge what kind of mood he was in. That was a bad habit of yours—badly reading people and basically running them over with your talking.
And here he was, feeling like shit over a decision that no one thought was possible. He probably had no will to talk about some skateboarder with you.
You noticed the way his hands trembled slightly, holding a tight grip on the door to the point where his knuckles whitened. The realisation hit you at the same time his expression shifted, his bravado cracking under the weight of something much deeper, his breath coming quicker than normal.
“Mate, are you okay?” you asked him softly.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his wavering voice betrayed him.
Logan wasn’t angry at the team, or at Alex. He knew that it was the right decision because Alex would have a better chance to score points. He probably would’ve made the same decision if he were team principal.
He knew he wasn’t good enough to deserve a chance.
He knew he wasn’t good enough to argue his case.
He knew he wasn’t good enough.
It was killing him inside. Logan wanted to flee the scene. He wished he could rewind time five minutes and just walk into his hotel room instead of stopping when he heard your steps. He wouldn’t have had to explain this to you. He wouldn’t have had to feel this way in front of another person. It had been bad enough when he got the news in a conference room filled with team members.
This was different, though—you two alone in a hotel corridor.
He felt like he was choking, like the feelings inside of him wanted to come out but he had no idea how to let them out. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, no matter how heavily he breathed. He’d never felt like this before.
“You’re having a panic attack, dipshit,” you stated.
It sounded like you were joking, but in reality you were fighting concern with humour. You could see exactly what was happening to him, all too familiar yourself with the overwhelming feeling of when anxiety finally catches up with you.
Logan looked at you, eyes wide. “N-no, I’m not. I’ve never—” he stammered, shaking his head.
“You haven’t had one before? Oh, fuck.”
It hadn’t even crossed your mind that people in their twenties could’ve gone their entire lives without experiencing an anxiety attack. You could handle them quite well after years of being a miserable child and teen, but Logan didn’t look like he knew what was even going on. The first one wouldn’t always be the worst one, but right now, this would be hard on him.
You took a step closer, your heart suddenly racing. You didn’t know if he wanted you to touch him, so you acted hesitantly at first. But by his shocked expression and shaking hands, you knew that he needed help calming down. He looked lost, like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet and he didn’t know how to steady himself.
“God, here—” you reached out, grabbing his hand, your fingers firm but gentle. “Just hold my hand.”
You dragged him into his room, to get privacy if someone entered the floor. He collapsed against the door as soon as it shut, sliding down it to sit on the floor. You crouched in front of him, now holding both of his hands to stop their shaking and to centre his focus.
“Mimic my breathing, look at my chest,” you instructed, guiding him as you took deep and steady breaths, making sure that he could see the tempo in which they rose and fell.
Logan couldn’t get any words out, but he tried his best to calm down. He was slowly able to sync his breathing with yours, the tightness in his chest and the pounding in his head easing as he got enough oxygen in his system again. The feeling inside was still foreign to him, like it wasn’t palpable at all.
He realised he was crying when he felt a cold tear slide down his cheek. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he had cried in front of someone, but he was past the point of embarrassment.
You didn’t seem to care about it anyway. You had a kindness in your eyes that was unexplainable to him, and he wondered how you knew how to deal with this so well.
“See?” you whispered after a moment. “You’re okay. Just keep breathing with me.”
Logan closed his eyes for a second, feeling his wet eyelashes hit his cheeks. Your voice grounded him and he couldn’t think of anything else in the moment. He couldn’t think of racing. He couldn’t think of Alex.
He thought of your unwavering grip on both his hands, sending a calm feeling through his body. He thought of the sound of your steady breathing, making it easy for him to follow.
He slowly opened his eyes to look down at your intertwined fingers, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. Logan had seen that you had tattoos before, but now was the first time he was close enough to distinguish them.
Like patchwork, they lined both of your arms, getting cut off by the hem of your Williams t-shirt right before your shoulder. They looked like doodles. There was a disco ball, and flowers, and a stamp from your home country. As his eyes trailed further, he could see a few on your legs as well, revealed because you were wearing shorts. You had a tattooed band-aid on your knee and a ghost on skateboard on your lower thigh. He assumed they had a connection.
“I like your tattoos,” Logan heard himself say, voice thick from the tears.
You glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The tenseness of your body softened, relieved that he seemed to be coming back to himself. “You do? You don’t seem like the type.”
Logan shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Oh, I’m not—but I like them on you.”
He grabbed your hand again afterwards, unsure of why but relieved that you just continued rubbing absentminded circles. You flexed your arm slightly, turning it so that Logan could get a better look of the inked designs.
“What are the paw prints for?” he asked, genuinely curious now that his mind had space for other thoughts. You had four little black paw prints on the inside of your arm.
“My parents dog,” you said, warmth filling your voice. “A golden retriever named Tater Tot.”
He chuckled, a sound that felt foreign after the weight of his emotions. “They have tater tots outside of America?”
“Barely,” you replied. “Which is a shame because I love them. We went to Florida on vacation when I was a kid, and I think I ate about a thousand tater tots from the hotel buffet.”
“Florida?” Logan dared to look at your face fully now, intrigued. “I’m from Florida.
“I know, Logan.”
You laughed gently. His Americanness didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in a place like this, where most of the team members were European. It was also one of the few things that had stuck with you from Angie’s rambling about her job—that she had to work with an actual Florida man, like they were mythological creatures.
“We went to Orlando. Disney World and all that, y’know?”
“Yeah, the classic American pilgrimage,” he smiled, then hesitated. “Have you been back? To America, I mean.”
You shrugged, your expression shifting to something more neutral, as if you were weighing the pros and cons in your mind. “No, it’s not really… something I want to do? With war criminals as presidents, and guns at grocery stores—oh, and no butter on your sandwiches?” You shook your head dramatically. “That’s my personal hell.”
Logan laughed again, feeling a slight stinging pain in his chest that he decided to disregard. If he kept on breathing deeper, he knew that it would go away on its own.
You watched as he winced, even if he tried to hide it from you. You took a moment to breathe with him again before continuing. “I have a friend who moved to San Francisco, though. She lives with this skateboarding collective and uh, it seems really nice.”
That was maybe the only reason you would go to the US, for more than the American grands prix of course. It was an old university friend who skated competitively. Even if you weren’t on the same level, you still felt like a month or two on the west coast could do your head and mental health a favour.
“That might be a bucket list thing for me,” you explained, at which Logan smiled.
You observed his face, glossy blue eyes from tears and messy blond hair from the chaos he had just experienced. A certain hopelessness lingering in the air that you tried to not think about too much. It was still too early to tell how the season would end.
“I feel a lot calmer now, uh… so thank you for all that,” he said, showing gratitude. He didn’t know how you’d known exactly what to say, but you had pulled him back from the edge, and that mattered more than anything.
“Yeah, distraction tends to work quite well,” you replied, giving him a knowing look. “You should maybe talk to someone if this becomes a reoccurring thing.”
His smile faded, but he nodded. Logan didn’t know now what this could lead to, but maybe he needed to prepare himself for feeling like this. He kind of wanted to talk to you about it, making a mental reminder to ask if panic attacks were common for you.
“We should probably get back to the paddock,” he murmured as realisation hit him.
He would have to face a lot of questions, and he was destined to put on a brave face, showing that this wasn’t something that had bothered him.
“Only if you feel like it. I don’t care if we get in trouble,” you said, reassuring him.
He shook his head, dropping the hold he had of your hands as he stood up and smoothed out his shorts.
“I’ll be alright, I think.”
. . .
Miami, USA
. . .
It became a thing for you to calm Logan down.
You'd said it yourself: It was too early to tell how the season would play out. But race after race, you grew more certain—this Williams car might just be the worst on the grid. And while you knew close to nothing about the engineering and mechanical side of things, you realised that neither did most of the audience. That was why people started to blame the drivers instead.
It didn’t really get to you—until Miami. That was when you felt anger over racing for the first time in your life, but absolutely not the last.
The Miami sun had been relentless, casting a hot haze over the track and the bustling energy of the crowd. The faint smell of burnt rubber lingered in the air as you clutched your camera, squinting through the lens, trying to spot the cars as they zoomed by in a blur of colour and speed. The piercing sound of engines roaring filled your ears, but it was a sudden crash that made your heart drop.
You hadn’t been too far away from the exact barrier when the crash happened. And when you realised that it was Logan, getting pushed off the track by Magnussen for a measly 18th position, you felt rage inside. He didn’t even get to finish his home race because of someone else’s carelessness.
By the time you made your way to the garage, the race had ended. The sound of people cheering for Lando’s first win was still deafening. Logan was checked by the medics but had been released soon after. When you found him, he was sitting in his driver’s room, still in his racing suit with his helmet beside him, his face flushed red and tense. His eyes met yours through the open door and you hesitated going to talk to him at first, but with a slight nod, he showed that it was okay.
“Sooo… Magnussen is a cunt,” you blurted out, leaning in the doorway, the words escaping before you had a chance to filter them.
Logan couldn’t help but huff out a laugh in frustration. It was an empty laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach up to sparkle his eyes with any genuine effect of your humorous words. Instead, the only thing adding light to his eyes were the tears threatening to fall. You’d seen it before.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you realised what you had said. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know him, that was really harsh.”
“Well, I’m glad you said it because I’m not allowed to,” he muttered in response, looking down at his hands, pulling at loose skin from his cuticles.
He sighed loudly, leaning to rest his head on the wall behind him. You moved his helmet to sit beside him, knowing now that you weren’t pushing any boundaries. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves friends—you didn’t really know anything about each other—but having travelled and worked so closely together for two months now, you were starting to learn how his post-race emotions functioned.
“I think I might be the living embodiment of it could be worse,” Logan stated.
“Yeah, you could be in that series where they race electric scooters,” you joked.
The corners of his mouth turned upward for a split second, then he thought about how the people racing scooters probably were having more fun than him this season.
A silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched him for a moment, noticing the tension still visible in the tight set of his jaw. The weight of the season was bearing down on him—the constant pressure, the unfair expectations.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, eyes downcast.
“I want to,” you replied without hesitation.
He looked up at you, fully taking in your appearance. Miami made everyone hot and bothered, and not in the good way. A sheen of sweat coated your forehead, and your skin had gotten more golden from being under the sun. Just as he spotted a fresh scratch on your elbow that he assumed was from skating, he also acknowledged the shirt you were wearing.
It wasn’t the William’s kit. It had his face on it, with the American flag and a bald eagle behind him. Perfectly oversized in your street-style-skater way. The text on it said wtf is a kilometer.
He snorted out loud, getting your attention. “I like your shirt.”
“It’s cool, right?” you replied, tugging at the hem. “A little girl from the fan zone gave me this friendship bracelet too.”
You reached out your wrist for him to see, baby blue beads rattling together. He carefully moved his fingers to twist it, showing him how white alphabet beads spelled out his surname, right there on your wrist. You were fully decked out to support him today… and he hadn’t even managed to finish the race.
As his hands moved, you saw how they were practically shaking, something his nerves caused him to do. It was an uncontrollable response to the adrenaline and pent-up frustration.
“You’re not alright, are you?” you asked gently.
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stared ahead, eyes glassy. Then, after a moment, he let out a shaky breath. “Can you say something to distract me? Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
You realised why he asked that. Like with the tattoos in Melbourne, distraction had worked on his anxiety before. You didn’t know if he had experienced more panic attacks or if he had tried to talk to someone about what had happened, but if you could help even a little bit by just yapping, you would do it whenever he asked.
You thought for a second, thinking of something light-hearted to tell him. An idea popped into your head as you pulled out your phone from your pocket. “Oh, I started this instagram diary thing to get some use out of all the photos and videos I take. That should tell you everything about me.”
The screen showed a grid of colourful photos, and Logan immediately scooted closer to get a better look. They were themed and edited to match together with long captions to actually mimic a diary. Your account was relatively small, mostly followed by old friends and members of the Williams team.
You didn’t really have anything to hide, so you handed him the phone to let him scroll freely. There were weekly posts, one from every country you had visited thus far and also ones from when you were back in England. He’d learnt by now that you weren’t English, but lived with Angie and her fiancé Matthew during this season, only because employees needed to be based in the UK.
“You really get out there and explore every time we’re in a new city?” he asked, slightly amazed after stopping at the post from Australia. It was a photo dump with everything from the beach, to a skatepark, to you enjoying the nightlife.
“Yeah, but my schedule is not as busy as yours,” you replied, your lips curving into a small smile. “You should join sometime, maybe not to a skatepark, but for dinner or karaoke.”
“You got to do karaoke in Japan?” Logan wondered, scrolling back up to see the post you had made from there.
Cherry blossoms, sushi, a skate shop with custom decks. Logan had seen that you had gotten a new board with The Great Wave off Kanawaga on it to match your blue Williams clothes, but he didn’t know from where. The last picture of the post was from a bar lit in neon lights, something written with Japanese characters. He assumed that was where the karaoke had taken place.
“Yeah,” you grinned, thinking back to the night. “Angie does a mean Michael Jackson impression.”
Logan had a hard time envisioning Angie singing in front of people. She was in her early thirties, and while she was lovely, she was also kind of stiff. Maybe it helped being on the other side of the world.
He shook his head, an amused scoff escaping him, but then his eyes drifted to an older post, further down your feed. It was multiple posts actually, all aligning together in an explosion of colours. It was collages of pictures, that, when zoomed out, depicted a picture in and of itself. They were all of a girl with bright pink hair.
“What’s all that?” he asked, tilting the phone for you to see better.
“It’s a project I did for university, like a mixed media thing where we had to turn photos into an art piece of a different kind,” you explained.
You said it simply, but Logan was beyond impressed at how much time and precision it must’ve taken. First to take and develop what seemed like a million photographs of the same person, and then to make a collage out of them, basically using the pictures as building blocks to make a much larger version of said person.
“Did you go to art school?”
“Oh no,” you laughed softly. “I did political science with a minor in photography. My entire family is made up of lawyers, so that was always my plan A.”
He looked at you curiously. “So why aren’t you in law school now?”
“Because I got rejected by every single one I applied to,” you dead-panned, tinged with a kind of self-deprecating humor. “I’m not that smart, Logan. Angie practically saved my life by letting me join her.”
There was a brief pause, a moment of vulnerability hanging in the air.
It was ridiculous really, how it all had happened—how you had been shaped your entire life for one future and then achieving nothing of it.
You were the youngest of three siblings. Your brother was fifteen and your sister was ten when you were born. It was obvious to everyone except your parents that you were an accidental pregnancy.
Being that much younger, you always felt behind because you were never on the same intellectual level as the rest of your family. Then, when you finally caught up in age and was supposed to be seen as an adult, you still couldn’t succeed in the things your siblings had succeeded in. You never got into a nice university, and while you just narrowly managed to graduate, it would have never been enough to get into law school no matter how hard you tried.
School was never your thing. You found joy in art and sports, but you never had the concentration to sit down with your nose in a book to learn things. It took your parents a long time to realise this, because your siblings had never had any problems. Your brother was the youngest chairman ever at your father’s law firm, and your sister worked for the World Court in The Hague.
You never stood a chance, but no one saw that.
Angie was your sister’s childhood friend, and when she found out about your failed attempt at law school, she was the one to arrange this job for you. She knew that it was never your dream to do as the rest of your family. Your parents still didn’t see that.
Everyone said that all they wanted for their children was for them to be happy and healthy, but that wasn’t really what they wanted. They wanted them to be like themselves, or even better—they wanted them to be better than themselves. And when the first two children actually managed to be better, who wouldn’t be a little disappointed in the third one?
Logan’s voice brought you out of your spiralling thoughts. You watched as his eyes softened, and he said with pure honesty, “I think what you’re doing now is way cooler.”
“Yeah, but my parents, and grandparents, and siblings do not,” you shrugged, the compliment washing over you but not quite sinking in.
“What would you have been doing if their opinion didn’t matter to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly louder.
You contemplated for a moment, startled by his question and change of mood.
“I would have skated a lot more, maybe even competitively. Or started with sports photography earlier. Not done political science, that’s for sure,” you said. “What about you?”
“I think I’m already supposed to be living my dream,” he answered, but his voice lacked conviction. “I shouldn’t feel this… sad, I should be enjoying what I have right now because Sainz is taking my seat next year.”
“Carlos? Jesus, that’s the downgrade of the century,” you blurted out without thinking, and Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise in his eyes.
“What? Do we think the Williams car will magically compete with Ferrari next season?” you chuckled. “No, it will be hilarious to hear him complain over the radio.”
You hadn’t given him the time to answer, but he would’ve said something similar to what you did. He was reluctant to laugh, but he knew it was true.
As he let the laugh out, he was immediately stuck by how freely he did it. He’d felt the same kind of weight over his chest like he had in Melbourne earlier. With the medics, and with the engineers, and with James. He didn’t feel that now, he could laugh without thinking of it. Without thinking of how his future was still very much undecided. You’d done it again—distracted him out of total anxious paralysis.
“Do you know what you’re gonna do?” you asked.
“I’ve got absolutely nothing figured out,” he admitted.
“Then I think we should use Lando’s win as an excuse to get absolutely wasted.”
. . .
Montréal, Canada
. . .
Canada was cold, like actually freezing. And it wouldn’t stop raining. You tried to do your job the best you could, but when your shoes were soaked through and raindrops had started to trickle down the inside of your coat, getting good photos was impossible. So, you had to give up with capturing the track and the crowd and opted on finding something content-worthy in the garage instead.
Logan found you on the floor of the garage, sat on your skateboard, using it to slide across to capture the car in some sort of panoramic view he assumed. He didn’t say much, leaving you to work in peace as he went on to focus on his own things. He could spot you in his periphery every now and then. You still wore your red bucket hat because of the rain, and your worn-out Nikes squeaked against the slick flooring.
He heard Alex enter his side of the garage with a ringing laughter, patting his shoulder as a way of greeting him.
“Might I ask why Paddy is on the floor?” he asked, voice laced with amusement at the girl in front of them, basically folded in half to get the perfect photograph.
You looked up at Alex from your position, the camera still held up like a shield between you. The flash went off as you sneakily took a picture of the two drivers. “Angles, baby. Angles,” you grinned.
Alex tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “What angle is that exactly? My double chin?”
“Don’t worry, you look great,” you reassured, standing up again.
Logan could see how your eyes searched for something, and when he spotted your lens cap laying on a nearby table, he reached out to give it to you. You nodded slightly as a silent thank you, surprised at how observant he’d been.
He would’ve never admitted it at the time, but how easy the word baby left your lips definitely lingered on his mind. It didn’t exactly help that it was Alex you’d said it too, even if it was in a jokingly manner.
You continued working, changing cameras from digital to film, capturing the team as they prepared for the race to start. You only stopped to go outside to photograph when a hailstorm hit the paddock.
Logan saw you enter the hospitality, drenched from head to toe, your blue coat having turned navy from the rain. Your eyes watched the hail in miraculous awe. He spotted you shivering from the weather, your hands having a hard time holding the camera as the cold gnawed at your fingers.
You felt him before you saw him, his quiet energy sneaking up on you, standing behind you as hail and raindrops hit the glass panes of the Williams hospitality building.
“Here,” he said, holding out a steaming mug.
You blinked, momentarily confused by the gesture. “I don’t drink coffee,” you reminded him. “Everyone says I’m hyper enough without caffeine.”
Logan’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I know that,” he replied. “It’s mine, but you can use the mug to warm your hands.”
“Oh…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the mug, the warmth radiating from the ceramic a stark contrast to the cold that had settled in your bones. Your fingers touched his as you grabbed it, almost feeling igniting a hotter fire than the boiling hot coffee warming you. “Thank you.”
Logan watched you in that silent way of his, the hailstorm outside temporarily forgotten as the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you.
You glanced up at him, your heart doing a ridiculous fluttering thing it had started doing whenever he was close. His gaze was steady, searching yours with a familiar, unspoken understanding that had developed over months of working together. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, the sound surprising even you, thinking back on how he had handed you your lens cap earlier. And now this, too.
“Why do you always seem to know what I need before I do?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, voice low enough for you to just about hear him.
It took you a while to understand what he meant. Then it hit you, that your comfort—your distraction—was what he needed. And you did it without him asking. Ever since tears had fallen from his blue eyes on that hotel room floor somewhere in Melbourne.
. . .
Later, the race began and came to an end.
The rain had stopped and the streets had dried up, leaving an eerily quiet race tack left under glimmering city lights. As you skated the paddock, weaving through the lingering crowd, the adrenaline of the race still pulsed through you, but it was dulled by the quiet aftermath.
You hadn’t really had any time to talk with anyone, being out by the track all race. While the race was disappointing, the cars had at least been a pleasure to photograph as they sprayed water around them.
You spotted a group of team members ahead, their heads low, conversations muted. Among them, Logan’s familiar figure stood out. You pushed off your skateboard with a quiet flick, coasting toward him. His ears perked up at the sound of the wheels against the concrete. As you got closer, you set your foot down, slowing to match his pace.
“Soo… uhm,” you started, voice unsure.
“Yeah, we don’t have to talk about it,” he said quickly, his gaze locked on the asphalt in front of him as he continued to walk slowly, you riding beside him.
You both knew what it meant. A double DNF, a race weekend that spiralled out of control, and hours of work undone in seconds.
“We can, if you want to,” you offered.
You glanced at him then, really looking at him for the first time since before the race. He looked tired, but more than that—defeated. And yet, he was trying to be strong. You offered him a chance to vent, even though you both knew it wouldn’t necessarily help. Not when you couldn’t pinpoint a defining factor as to why the weekend had gone to shit. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Alex’s fault. It was just a mess to race in this much rain.
Logan let out a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure anyone on the team would want to talk about today,” he admitted.
You could only nod, completely understanding that it was probably best to be quiet about the race. You were better off distracting him, like you usually did.
“You wanna have dinner? A little pick-me-up? Maybe Alex and Lily will want to join.”
Logan huffed a dry laugh. “They’re having what Alex calls DNF therapy.”
“Do I wanna know what that means?” you questioned, acting intrigued.
You didn’t need to ask. You understood what it meant. But you asked anyway, to see if Logan would explain it to you.
“No, you don’t,” he replied short, shaking his head.
“How about room service and a shitty movie instead?” you suggested.
“You’re starting to know me so well,” he said. He then paused, the realisation settling in as he glanced sideways at you. “I guess you’re my DNF therapy, huh.”
You tried to stop yourself from making the conversation take a turn. You really did. But the joke was there, right in front of your eyes, looking so damn tempting.
“I’m not having sex with you, Sargeant,” you said sternly.
Logan blinked, his eyes wide for a second before he burst out laughing. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted. Loud and clear.”
For a brief moment, a tension so thick formed between you that you could almost feel it taking up space in the cold, still slightly rainy air. It was quickly replaced by the laughter—the easy banter you usually had with Logan.
But the thought lingered in your mind longer than it should have. In reality, you probably would’ve done it. If he asked you, that is. Sex with Logan, huh. The heat that rose to your cheeks was almost painful. Your infatuation had been visible, right there on your face, if only Logan had been confident enough to see it.
You had to push these thoughts away. You didn’t need things to be complicated between the two of you. Even if this stupid crush you had on him was starting to become harder to ignore.
Instead, you nudged his arm playfully before pushing with your foot to skate in front of him, glancing back over your shoulder with a grin. “Come on. Let’s go order some overpriced food and find the worst movie possible.”
. . .
Baku, Azerbaijan
. . .
Azerbaijan was hot, like actually blazing. You could feel sweat running down your face and back every time you were out of the air-conditioned garage to photograph. By the time race day came around, you already had blisters on the inside of your thighs from chafing, and your skin was warm to the touch from being burnt.
The moment you had now, on the Sunday morning, to sit inside and edit some photos was therefore sacred. It was the first calm and, more importantly, cool moment you’d had in days. The torment the heat had on your body had still left its mark. You couldn’t get comfortable. You couldn’t get your heart to stop racing. You wouldn’t have called it anxiety, but since this morning, you were now sure that heat exhaustion wasn’t the only thing you were feeling.
Your mind was enough of a twisty place. Now, when it wouldn’t shut the fuck up, it was like a constant stream of emotions just overwhelming you.
At least, the photos you had taken during practice and qualifying turned out sick. You’d tried out a new long exposure technique that really captured the speed even in static form. And you had definitely gotten better at candid portrait photography, which was a huge part of your job. Editing was usually the simplest part for you, but when the photos were so close that you could count the subject’s individual eyelashes, it was easy to get flustered.
You finished the editing and decided on asking both Alex and Logan for their favourites before sending the content to the media team. It wasn’t something that was required from you, but you also knew that having your photo taken could be difficult.
With your laptop in your hand, you walked to their driver rooms, rounding the corner to be met with a wide open door into Logan’s.
“Logan, I—” you started, your breath catching in your throat at the sight in front of you.
There he was, in workout shorts but no shirt, lounging in his room before changing into his race gear. He didn’t even have time to look up from his phone before you were rambling out an apology, ready to run out of the room—hell, maybe even the garage.
“Oh fuck, shit, I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, feeling your pulse quicken. You hoped he didn’t notice how your mouth hung open or the way your eyes darted everywhere but his torso.
“What’s up?” he said, straightening his back and running a hand through his hair.
His casual confidence made everything about your reaction feel even worse. He didn’t mind you seeing him shirtless, so why the fuck did you have to care so much?
“I just…” you stammered, losing all sense of vocabulary as your eyes deceived you, glancing at his chest. “Forgot how to English.”
Logan let out a gentle laugh, and you mentally told yourself to get your shit together.
“I have some photos for you to look at,” you said, holding up your laptop that had been your reason to barge into his room in the first place.
“Right, right,” Logan nodded. “Let me put a shirt on first.”
Your mouth moved before your brain could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.
“No, I get it. I’d be shirtless too if it was socially acceptable.”
He froze mid-step, his head slowly turning back to you with a raised brow.
You’d said no. In milliseconds. Like you were opposed to him putting a shirt on. Like that was a totally normal thing. Then, you just had to mention yourself being shirtless. So, you were forced to wonder if he was thinking about you without a shirt on as much as you were thinking about him without one.
Well… you didn’t necessarily have to think. He was already standing in front of you shirtless. That was a known fact.
The moment you thought he might actually flirt back with you, it was like you could see how the tension washed away from his face.
“It’s hot, right?” he asked, moving some things out of the way so that you could place your laptop on the table in his room. A part of you thought he wasn’t actually talking about the temperature.
“Way too fucking hot,” you mumbled as your fingers shakily hovered over the mousepad. Your heart was racing and your body was overheating. You didn’t dare look up from the screen, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—or worse, what he might see in yours.
He overviewed the photos, pointing out some of his favourites. You’d gathered quite quickly that Logan had an amateur interest in photography. He didn’t shy away from complimenting your work or from asking questions about certain shots he found special. That didn’t make the rushing heat flowing to your face any better.
“You alright?” you heard him ask as you closed the laptop shut, your photo viewing session done for now. You couldn’t really focus, a ringing sound hitting your ears.
You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, just a lot to do. I’ll see you after the race.”
With that, you dashed out of his room, on your way to find Alex instead. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself, but that didn’t exactly matter. Either way, you were in too deep, and you knew it.
. . .
The Williams car was decent in Baku—fast on the straights, as expected. Alex got points and Logan wasn’t far from archiving it too. Still, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the most depressing result—he would manage this weekend without once collapsing like an anxious mess. That was a win in his book nowadays.
Logan walked with Alex from the media pen, adrenaline in his steps, talking freely about whatever came to mind.
“Did she show you the photos she took during practice yesterday? She used some kind of long exposure. I don’t know what it’s called or how she did it but it looked so cool—”
“Logan,” Alex stopped him.
“What?”
“Take a breath, you’ve been talking about Paddy for like five whole minutes,” Alex teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get that you like her photography, but this is borderline obsessive.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Logan defended. “You were the one who brought her up in the first place anyway.”
“Mate, all I did was ask if you’d seen her. She didn’t take any photos as we exited the cars,” Alex explained.
Logan shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since before the race.”
“Me neither, that’s why I asked.”
Realisation dawned upon Logan that something wasn’t alright. You’d seemed sort of unbalanced earlier in the day, but he assumed that was the heat and a massive workload. It wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before, and you seemed to quietly get through every hurdle in your way anyway. He would be blind if he didn’t see your embarrassment to barging in on him shirtless, but he had explained that reaction away too in his head. He mostly found you cute, but that didn’t have to mean anything.
He couldn’t find an explanation for this, though. Even after shit races, he looked forward to seeing you with your camera held high every time he exited the car, got weighed, or was walking to the media pen. But you hadn’t been there today…
His emotional support photographer hadn’t been there. Sure, today’s race wasn’t that bad, and he didn’t necessarily need you as a distraction for his anxiety. But you didn’t know that. That had to mean that something had happened to you.
“Angie, where’s Paddy?” Alex asked as they entered back into the Williams garage, practically running into the obviously stressed-out marketing manager.
“Uhh…” Angie hesitated, not lifting her eyes from her phone. “Still with the medical team, I think. She passed out during the race. Heatstroke, most likely.”
Logan froze. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, but for some reason he did. He cared about you, and he cared so much that he was about to act irrationally.
“She passed out? How are you so calm?” he questioned.
Angie shrugged, far too nonchalantly for his liking. “It’s a million degrees outside, heatstrokes are bound to happen—”
Logan didn’t wait for another word. He was already moving, cutting through the garage with purpose.
Alex shouted after him, “Logan, where are you going? We have debrief soon!”
“Tell them I’m not coming!” was all that he yelled as a reply.
. . .
The air in the small, sterile room seemed to hum with the tension that had followed you since you woke up.
“Miss, how are you feeling?”
You blinked, still trying to find your bearings. It took you a second to even see the medic that was talking to you. The heat clouded your vision like a mirage. Your mouth was dry, your skin sticky from sweat, but at least you were conscious. They’d placed you in a secluded room in the makeshift medical area, lying on a stiff and temporary cot.
“It’s a lot better now,” you replied hoarsely, managing a weak smile. “Still have a slight headache, but I guess that’s normal.”
You didn’t know if it was the bright fluorescent lighting or the heat still affecting you, but your eyes burned and your head pounded. You felt the instinct to rub your temples, but was hindered when you felt an IV-needle inserted in your arm.
You didn’t know how long you’d been out. You weren’t even sure what had happened really. One second you were in the garage, trying to get a perfect shot of Alex making his pit stop. The next one, you have a vague memory of being moved into the medical area and multiple people’s voices buzzing above you.
“Yes, it is. Do you know what happened?” the medic asked. His voice was kind as he stood by your bedside, an iPad in hand with information.
“Uh, I… passed out? Did I hit my head?”
“No, no, you didn’t. You should be lucky that garage was filled with people to catch a falling lady,” he joked lightly.
You smiled, albeit a bit forced. You looked at the medic’s name tag, trying to make out the letters with your clouded vision. Amir. That was a pretty name. At least your brain was working somewhat.
“We just want to observe you for a little longer to make sure you’re no longer dehydrated, otherwise you should be completely fine. Are you on any medication now?” Amir continued by saying.
You thought for a second. “Yeah, wait… I can never remember the names.”
Looking around you, you were thankful to see your camera bag with your phone inside placed neatly on a table next to the cot. You moved carefully to reach it, opening your notes app to show Amir the prescriptions you had written down.
“I take those daily for ADHD, and uh… those for anxiety when I feel like I need it,” you explained, pointing at the screen even though it hurt your head to look at it.
Amir nodded and tapped something down on his iPad. “Did you take one today?”
“Yeah, one of each.”
“Good to know. I’ll go get you something for that headache,” he reassured you before leaving, letting his hand gently squeeze your arm as an act of thoughtfulness.
You closed your tired eyes for a moment, a feverish cold sweat catching up to you, making you realise just how uncomfortable your Williams kit was, practically glueing your warm body to the cot.
The door clicked shut softly behind the medic as he left, but it wasn’t long before you heard it creak open again. You looked up, expecting Amir, but instead, it was… Logan.
You blinked, a little confused. His blond hair was slightly damp, still sporting what was obviously helmet-hair. He looked tired, maybe as exhausted as you felt, yet he stood there, hesitant for only a moment before stepping inside.
He shouldn't be here. He should be debriefing with the team, or doing interviews, or—
“What the hell did you do?” Logan asked, only half-teasing as real concern bled through in his voice.
“Apparently I passed out,” you answered, trying to downplay it with a weak smile.
Logan sighed, the tension visibly draining from his body as if seeing you alright, even in this condition, was enough to ease the worry that had been weighing on him. You were sure you looked like a complete mess—sweaty, shivering, barely able to keep your eyes open.
He moved inside the room, sitting down on a stool next to your cot. You turned to look at him, feeling his intense eyes on you already. You didn’t know what to do, or what to feel. Your system was already cooked, fried up completely from feeling bad all day to passing out in front of a crowded garage.
“So, uhm… you’re just as anxious as I am?” he asked nervously, tilting his head.
Your stomach twisted. It didn’t take you long to realise that he had overheard your conversation with Amir—about the medication, about your diagnoses. It wasn’t a secret in any way, you just hadn’t planned to tell him about it unless he asked. Your magical cure to dealing with his anxiety was… two decades of dealing with your own.
“Not that it’s a competition, but I’m way worse,” you joked.
Not fitting in at school, not fitting in at home—it would make anyone anxious out of their skin. And younger you were surrounded by people who didn’t know how to deal with it—to deal with you. Your family labelled you as a sad child, or god forbid sensitive, and sort of just accepted your anxious responses to every minor thing. Doctors and therapists called you emotionally intelligent, but you never found that to be a compliment, like it was a positive thing to be so aware of your own problems.
Logan stared at you plainly. “Do the meds help?”
You scoffed. “Yeah, they do. Just not against heat exhaustion.”
You saw how Logan’s expression stayed the same, slightly emotionless, slightly annoyed at how you just couldn’t help yourself from joking about the situation. You’d experienced it before—how people disliked you for it.
“You don’t have to be here, Logan. I’m fine,” you added, shying away from looking at him.
That broke his demeanor. He was quick to grab your hand, careful with the IV-port connected to your inner elbow. His grip was firm but tender, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.
“I want to be here,” he shortly replied. There was no room for debate.
You wanted to protest, to tell him that he didn’t need to babysit you, that he had more important things to do. But the truth was… you weren’t fine. Not really.
You were used to keeping to yourself, even in busy places like the paddock. You were used to the chaos and noise of your family, where attention was either forced or withheld, never calmly showed. Silence was your refuge. You were talkative, sure, but you had learnt early on that asking for help meant admitting weakness—something that wasn’t welcome in the household you grew up in. As a kid, you would shut down when you felt this overwhelmed. Even now, sat in a medical room after collapsing for heat exhaustion, that old instinct was there, tugging at you to shut down.
Logan, however, was still there, unfazed, waiting.
Maybe he wanted to tell you how it was slightly reckless to feel this bad and not inform anyone, but he also understood more than anybody—that admitting a weakness while doing a job people questioned your talent for—wasn’t something easily done, or something that would even help your cause in the end.
But he didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, breathing steadily. His fingertips traced upward to one of the floral tattoos you had on your forearm. His touch felt… gentle. Intimate, even, your clouded mind envisioned. It sent a shiver through you—not from the feverish cold sweat, but from something else entirely.
“How did the race go?” you asked, swallowing down emotions, more to change the subject than anything.
“Not important.” Logan shook his head. “What? I mean it. I’m focused on you now.”
You tried to roll your eyes, but the effort was too much. You could feel yourself unravelling, the exhaustion too heavy to ignore anymore. He noticed it too.
“My father called me this morning,” you blurted out after a moment of silence, surprising even yourself. “I think that’s why I was feeling so off today.”
Logan, again, didn’t say anything, just waited, his gaze steady, patient. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing you to say more. He was just… there. He’d learnt from you, you slowly realised—to let anxious people talk when they wanted to talk and to distract them when talking would only make things worse.
“We haven’t talked in months,” you admitted, biting your lip. “So, I thought… I thought he was finally going to be the bigger person and actually show some interest in my life and the job I’m doing.”
Logan nodded slowly, sensing the conclusion before you even voiced it. “I’m guessing he didn’t?”
“He called to offer me a job at his firm because one of their legal assistants is going on maternity leave.” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “I’ve been working and travelling the world for half a year, making a name for myself, and he still doesn’t believe that I can do it.”
It was funny, how the first man to ever break your heart was your own father. And he hadn’t done it with malicious intent, but because he was just too blind to get to know his own daughter.
Your breath hitched, and before you could stop them, the tears spilled over, silent but insistent. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, embarrassed by the vulnerability, the rawness. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“Don’t apologise. You’ve seen me cry enough times to know that it’s okay.”
Logan’s grip on your hand tightened just a fraction, a quiet reassurance. You didn’t have to suck up the tears and build up a façade to prove that you were unbothered.
“He doesn’t need to believe in you for you to succeed,” Logan said quietly, his words like an anchor to your focus. “You can do it, actually, you are doing it.”
And the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.
. . .
Austin, USA
. . .
Austin was… disappointing.
That was the word of this season. Disappointing. Because no matter how hard it looked like Alex and Logan were pushing themselves and the cars—they got nothing out of it. Now, Logan knew for certain that he wasn’t coming back to Formula One next season. As much as Logan had wanted to go out on a high note, to leave with his head held high, reality didn’t allow it.
The only moments that really brought him any sort of joy nowadays were the ones off track. Especially the ones with you. He didn’t like to overthink it because it was complicated, and God knows he wasn’t in the right state of mind for anything complicated. But calling it platonic? That would be a lie. It wasn’t necessarily love either, just a deep understanding of each other.
Like now, on the Sunday evening after the disappointing race, when you and him spent time in his hotel room, watching a movie that was so bad and eating room service food that was so tasteless. You were there, for him, as a distraction, as a constant. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the plot, made sarcastic comments about the actors, and occasionally hummed along to the cheesy soundtrack. You showed him attention and affection when he quite literally felt like the worst person in the world.
“I should probably go to my own room,” you said, trying to hide a yawn as you spoke. The food finished a long time ago and the end credits rolling on the TV-screen at the end of the bed.
Logan looked at you over his shoulder from his position on the bed, the one he’d been sinking into from exhaustion since you’d both entered his room. He was laid on his side, back turned to you. You were sat against the plush headboard, your hair looked a mess as you leant your head. He’d been quiet for a long time, barely even laughed during the movie’s funnier parts. But now, he slowly shook his head as he looked at you.
He didn’t want you to leave.
You silently agreed to stay for a little longer by just a look from your eyes. He turned his back to you again and you reached for the remote to turn off the TV. A static and quiet sound of air-conditioning the only thing audible in the hotel room. You shuffled behind him carefully, letting yourself lie down with your front facing his back. You didn’t dare to move under the covers like he had, only his blond hair and shirtless shoulders peeking out.
“They should’ve just sacked me off before the summer break,” he finally muttered. You saw how a breath left his lungs, weighing him further down into the mattress. “Or after the crash at Zandvoort. Y’know? Just done something to get rid of me so that I didn’t have to feel this way.”
He hadn’t talked like this in a while. You’d heard it a lot earlier during the season, when there were talks of him getting replaced after every race he didn’t score points. The talking never stopped, but Logan’s attitude definitely changed. He was indifferent to it, and that was scary to see—someone so young, kicked to the ground repeatedly, that his dreams lost their importance even to himself.
He’d been more careful with you since Baku. You thought maybe that had an influence on him too. He didn’t want to crowd you with emotions and anxiety when he now knew that you didn’t have it easy either. You didn’t think that was fair. You had never once felt like he added on to your anxiety. He only made it better.
“You’re not saying much,” he added quietly, as your silence became too much for him.
“For once in my life, I thought I’d try out what it’s like to be quiet,” you responded, but there was no bite in your voice. It was gentle, sympathetic—not joking like you used to do. “No, I’m sorry. I was letting you vent. It sounded like you needed it.”
Logan's body slumped further as he exhaled, realising that you were right.
“Logan, listen,” you said. “It would make no sense to sack you off. No possible replacement would be able to adjust in time for a better chance at points. Williams is doomed this season no matter what if they can’t give both cars equal machinery.”
Your words hung in the air, not offering a solution, but trying to relieve him of some of the guilt he had piled on him.
Without thinking, your fingers began tracing a pattern on his back, just by his exposed shoulder blade. Small, mindless circles—something to occupy the space between words. You weren’t even aware you were doing it until Logan spoke again.
“Are you doing one of those children’s rhymes?” Logan asked with a slight amusement as he recognised the pattern your finger was moving in.
“Who says they’re just for children?” you joked.
“X marks the spot, a circle and a dot…” he started, trailing off with a soft laugh. His voice was muffled by the pillow he was lying on, but you could hear the faint hint of a smile in it.
“Wait…I don’t know the right order in English,” you admitted, a little embarrassed as you lifted your finger from his skin.
“Do it in your language,” he suggested in a heartbeat.
“But you won’t understand it?”
“I just like listening to you speak,” Logan said softly, sincerely.
“Really? I’ve been told that I sound like a muppet before by English speakers,” you questioned, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks despite yourself.
That wasn’t a lie. Muppet. Cartoon character. Or just any national stereotype people could think of. You’d heard it all.
Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Is that why you try to not have an accent?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” you shrugged. “It was either a borderline offensive British accent or sounding like I’m one of the Kardashians.”
He felt a short breath fall on his naked shoulder, something between a giggle and a huff. He could imagine the look on your face—smiling, trying to not be too loud for the room’s sombre atmosphere.
You did as he asked, tracing the rhyme onto his back in the way you remembered your mother doing it to you as a child when you couldn’t sleep. His skin was tan and slightly freckled, feeling smooth under your fingertip. You whispered the words quietly in the language you knew best.
“I love how you sound when you don’t care,” Logan said after a moment. “And in your native language.”
You raised an eyebrow in confusion. Not that he would be able to see your expression anyway. You had no idea that he’d even heard you speak in your native tongue before.
“When you’re on the phone with your family and so on,” he continued. “Your tone changes, it’s more melodic.”
You’d always been self-conscious about your accent, always trying to blend in, to sound like everyone else. Again, it was one of those things that had always made you feel just a little bit inadequate. A little bit less than the older people around you. But here he was, appreciating the very thing you tried to hide. Loving it, even.
“Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you let your head fall forward, your forehead resting gently against his shoulder blade.
You stayed like that for a moment, tracing his back, savouring the quiet, intimacy of the moment without needing to explain or define it. You could’ve told him that you liked him. Your lips were only centimetres away from kissing the bare skin of his shoulder. You sensed that it was not the best time to try messing with his head and digging up your emotions to the surface, so you squashed them down all over again.
Logan fell asleep first, but you weren’t long after. Right there, behind him. That was never your plan, but a tired mind did whatever the tired mind wanted to, you supposed. Now that it had happened, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. It didn’t end up being an issue until morning came around.
It was early—earlier than what it needed to be—when the sun broke through the curtains and filled the room with light, evidently waking you. The daily alarm you had set on your phone wouldn’t be ringing for another hour or two.
You had slept fine. Nothing disrupting you. Nothing waking you. You didn’t even dream. When you woke up, however, you thought you might be dreaming.
During the night, your positions had changed. Somehow, you weren’t behind Logan anymore, with a safe distance. No, he was spooning you. An arm lazily draped over your stomach and his warm breath tickled the skin of your neck every time he exhaled.
Nope, you definitely weren’t dreaming.
You laid as still as you possibly could, tensing your entire body, gathering that he was fast asleep. But, you had to move at some point. Your body would go into rigor mortis if you didn’t. And you were scalding hot. Falling asleep in a sweatshirt, Logan’s arm hugging your waist. It was all too much for you.
That was when you felt it. You accidentally shifted your legs, moving further back. You felt him, poking the back of your thigh. Hard, frustrated, large. A warmness spread through your body as you realised it, making the climate even more unbearable in that bed. You knew that it was involuntary. It was just how the male body worked sometimes. You knew that this wasn’t some indication that he reciprocated the feelings you harboured for him.
Somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part about it. You could feel his heartbeat racing, as his chest was so close to your back. That was the worst part. Like this was exciting him, or making him nervous—even in his sleep, even involuntary.
You were going to die. This was about to kill you. And you’d let it happen. You wanted it to kill you.
You had to get out of here, and that was now.
You sure looked comedic, trying to get out of that bed quickly while also not waking him. Like a newborn giraffe, attempting to stand up for the first time as a heavy comforter clung to its body.
But you did it, shutting the heavy hotel room door behind you, eyes darting around the hallway of rooms, looking to see if you’d been caught by anyone. Just as you started to walk to your own room, a voice from down the hallway stopped you.
“Why were you in Logan’s room at the ass crack of dawn?”
You spun to meet Angie’s gaze, and she came up to you, just having left her own room, dressed and ready for the day. You were in yesterday’s clothes and makeup, looking positively frazzled. She read your expression in a second.
“Oh my god,” Angie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “You slept with him!”
“No, no, I promise I did not!” you defended quickly, voice laced with panic. “Or, I mean—” you fumbled over your words as you watched Angie try to not burst into laughter. “We fell asleep next to each other, but we did not have sex.”
“I don’t really care what you did or did not do with him, because I trust you to still be good at your job. I just—” she paused, her face softening as she looked at you, the big sister mentality coming into place even though you shared no ties of blood. “I want you to know your worth, and that race car drivers are notorious for being—”
You cut her off, voice steadier than before. “I know my worth,” you said, before adding with a dramatic sigh, “I just happen to be on sale for a certain sad and anxious American.”
“I get it, it happens to the best of us,” Angie nodded, her lips curling into a smirk. “You think you know what rock bottom feels like and then all of a sudden you want to fuck the blond guy.”
You could only laugh at her unusually crude words. Maybe it hit too close to home for her.
“You’re engaged to a blond guy, Angie,” you pointed out.
Matthew’s hair was almost white, that’s how blond he was. He most certainly had some Scandinavian in him. Logan would be considered brunet in comparison.
“Like I said, it just happens,” she shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulder. Back to comfortable camaraderie. “Let’s go get breakfast, lover girl.”
. . .
On the other side of the door, Logan had woken up by the sound of it slamming shut. It took him a moment to piece together what had happened. His increased heart rate. His throbbing morning wood. You, running out of his hotel room before he could wake up. What the fuck did this mean? God, he felt like dying. Or maybe just taking a really long, cold shower.
. . .
Mexico City, Mexico
. . .
“This is a waste of your time,” you called out from across the park, feeling the warm wind sweep through your hair as you carved the side of the bowl. You pushed your weight into the deck, the skateboard responding to your every shift, gliding along the concrete.
While you’d gotten to skate in some impressive parks around the world this year—this one in Mexico might take the price for being the best. It was gorgeous, in an area that you could tell flourished with graffiti and street artists. The concrete was smooth, the bowl was deep and large enough. The local skaters were talented and ranged from kids with their fathers to groups of teenagers.
“It’s not wasted time if it’s with you,” Logan said from his seat by the edge of the bowl, his eyesight focused through the little viewfinder on a vintage polaroid camera.
You’d both been asked to go to dinner with some team members after the Mexican Grand Prix, but you had answered honestly with how you’d much rather go explore this skatepark that you had heard amazing things about. Logan had answered with less honesty that he was too tired. With one look, you could tell that he silently asked to join you instead.
He was happy to just sit in the evening sun, looking out over the people skating, and stealing a camera from you to take some photos. You’d given him a polaroid camera that was only for your personal use. The film was getting expensive and your case of developed pictures was getting full, but you knew the memories would be worth it.
Logan wasn’t sure that he was very good at photography at first. He was too impatient to wait at the film developing, thinking he’d ruined most of the shots before colour even started showing on the little squares of film.
But he hadn’t ruined them. He just had to wait. And after he had waited, he was pretty damn proud of the outcome. There were gorgeous murals, a lot of the setting sun, some of kids skating around—but most of them were of you. The sun kissed your skin, and the sweat from your ride clung to you, but still, there was something about the way Logan saw you through that camera lens. Young, sweet—maybe even beautiful.
You rolled your eyes at his cliché words, pushing the tail of your board to get a bit more speed as you curved around the deep end of the bowl. Your body had memorized the movements of skating so deeply that you no longer thought about them; you just moved, instinct guiding you. It was moments like this when everything else fell away, and you were simply alive.
Logan snapped another picture, the click of the shutter audible even over the distant chatter of the park. You could tell he was smiling, even though the camera obscured half his face.
“You’re such a shutterbug!” you teased, your board coming to a stop just below him in the bowl.
“And you’re very photogenic,” he shot back without missing a beat, the sound of the shutter following swiftly after.
He could only imagine what the picture would look like without it having fully developed yet. Your high pitched laugh materialising in a wide smile with crooked teeth. You looked like a little train conductor in your striped denim boiler suit, worn-out to the point of tearing, showing off banged-up knees and elbows from never enough wearing protective gear.
After what felt like hours of skating, you finally called it a night, and the two of you began to walk back to the hotel. The buildings around you, old and worn, were painted in soft pastel shades that had faded with age. Mexico City had that effect—beautifully chaotic, with stories hidden in every crack and corner.
You were still buzzing with the adrenaline from skating, unable to stop yourself from laughing every few minutes. It was a lightness that came from doing something you loved, and being with someone who, in his own way, seemed to love it just as much.
Out of nowhere, you pointed up, a giggle bubbling over. “Look!”
Logan followed your gaze, his eyes landing on a pair of old, beat-up Converse dangling from a power line overhead.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you said, half to yourself. “Isn’t that used to mark a spot for drug dealers?” Logan asked, brow raised in amusement.
“Maybe. But it’s also used to commemorate things. Graduation, marriages, all sorts of stuff.” You gave him a playful smirk. “You know, to mark a memory.”
“You should do it, to commemorate this year.”
“Actually…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo to commemorate this year.”
His eyebrows shot up, clearly interested. “Really? What of?”
“Not sure yet. Something small, meaningful. I’ll figure it out.”
Logan hummed in approval, then looked pointedly at your shoes. “You know, you could commemorate this moment by tossing those sneakers up there. God knows they’ve seen better days.”
You glanced down at your well-worn Nikes, the soles starting to peel, the laces frayed. The cobalt swooshes had practically turned a faded navy-brown shade instead. Thinking about it, your suitcase was filled with other sneakers too.
“I mean, you’re not wrong. But how am I supposed to walk back to the hotel?”
Without hesitation, Logan smiled. “I’ll carry you.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, you won’t.”
His response was swift. He knelt in front of you, leaning down to untie your shoes with an easy, confident motion.
“Logan,” you protested softy, when you really had nothing against it.
“Come on, just do it,” he coaxed, glancing up at you.
Who were you to say no to a man on his knees? You decided on listening to him. Stepping out of your shoes, you felt the warm ground beneath you, hurting slightly from tiny rocks and dirt digging into the soles of your sock-clad feet.
You tied the shoes together by the laces and with a pathetic first attempt, you launched them high up into the air, no way near the power line. Logan let out a little laugh in utter disbelief because he found the action so endearing.
“It’s harder than it looks!” you defended.
“That’s what he said,” he joked under his breath as you tried again… and again.
Thankfully you were decent at other things, because throwing was not your forte. You were about to give up as you tossed one single last throw, groaning out of frustration as you tried your best. With eyes closed, you hoped for the best. A slow applause from Logan made you dare to look. And surely, there were your blue Nikes, dangling on the power line above you.
“Oh my God, I did it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in triumph. “Logan, take a picture, please!”
He chuckled, snapping a quick shot with the polaroid as you stood under the shoes, grinning like an idiot.
Before you knew it, Logan had swept you off your feet, literally, hoisting you onto his back. You kicked your legs weakly in protest, though your laugher told him you weren’t actually mad. Graciously, he even picked your skateboard up, sticking it between his arm and ribs.
“No, no, put me down. This is not working,” you squealed, feeling like you were about to fall off, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.
“I’m not putting you down,” Logan retorted as he started walking with ease down the sidewalk with you on his back. “You’ll hurt your feet.”
He shuffled you higher up on his back, his hands grasping tightly around your legs. You were scared he was going to drop you, or worse, fall over because of the weight.
“Put me down.” You tried your best to sound serious, but it did nothing, he just kept on walking. The hotel was only minutes away and he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.
“You’re enjoying this,” Logan accused. “I know you are.”
You leaned your chin on his shoulder, finally giving in. “You've carried me this far, you might as well take me home.”
As you approached the luxurious hotel the team stayed at, Logan didn’t set you down until you were in the lift, earning looks from both guests and workers. Neither of you cared. He set you down gently, your sock-covered feet making a soft thud against the lift’s marbled flooring.
He gave you your skateboard back, shifting uncomfortably in his spot as the lift started moving upward. “I had fun tonight,” he whispered to you.
You leant against the wall, a loud exhale escaping you. “So did I.”
As you watched Logan, the laughter that had filled the air moments ago now gave way to something quieter, something more charged.
He took a small step towards you before you could even think, his face soft but his eyes intense, searching yours as if waiting for permission. There were a million things you wanted to tell him, to interrupt him, just to make sure—but the weight of the unspoken pulled you both together, speechless.
Your heart pounded in your chest as his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, your heart racing in sync with his as your lips hovered inches apart. He was just as nervous as you were.
You both closed your eyes, anticipation tingling through you, waiting for that inevitable spark—
“Hey!” Alex’s voice cut through the moment like a knife as the lift doors opened with a ding. He blinked at you both, stumbling away from each other, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “Where are your shoes, Paddy?”
You stared at him, dumbfounded, and then down at your sock-clad feet. “Uhh… on a power line?”
Logan laughed, shaking his head. His cheeks were burning from what had almost happened, and from getting caught by Alex. It was so obvious. If only your rooms had been on a higher floor.
. . .
Las Vegas, USA
. . .
You changed after Mexico, and Logan took notice. You worked longer hours—a lot more than you needed to. You didn’t find the time to go exploring. Or if you did, you didn’t post it to your instagram diary. You also drifted apart from Logan. Your conversations were shorter, your movie nights extinct, and you being a distraction for him was exchanged with you saying that you had more work to do. You became a ghost in his world, present but not truly there.
It didn’t matter how many times Logan tried to talk to you about it. The message was clear. You’d shut him out. And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.
Your evening in Mexico City had been magical; at least that was what he felt. And even though Alex had interrupted at the worst possible moment, Logan still naively thought you’d be able to go back to that magic if you got a chance alone together.
But you were busy in Brazil, and the promotional aspect of the Las Vegas Grad Prix was nothing short of crazy. Some might even have called it torturous. He just didn’t find the right time, and you didn’t even make the time for him to try.
The stumbling, awkward times he had tried—Logan couldn’t even form a sentence. He’d interrupt you when you were working, or catch you just as you were about to go to bed. It was never good enough. His emotions had shifted insanely fast, or maybe they had moved at a slow pace for such a long time that they now felt like a tidal wave hitting him straight in the heart.
He liked you.
Your obsession with tater tots, your inability to sit still, your love for shitty movies, your ability to always match the colour of your sneakers to your work clothes. It was all the little things. Your way of treating him like he wasn’t wasted potential or fragile like fine china. That you knew how to deal with him, like this season wasn’t the end of the world.
And the worst thing was that he was pretty damn sure that you liked him back. Yet, you were running.
. . .
You weren’t there to bother him when he finished the race in Las Vegas. You didn’t stand there with your camera, ready to get an unflattering picture of him dripping with sweat. And it wasn’t like in Baku, where he had sensed something was wrong immediately. This was calmer, and Angie just told him that you were back at the hotel when he asked.
He got a point in Vegas, but you weren’t there to capture it. He got to look happy in pictures for other photographers and he got to finally express some happiness in the post-race interviews. And while a part of him was over the moon, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it seemed like you hadn’t even seen him accomplish it.
That was why he now stood outside of your hotel room, freshly showered and changed but still buzzing with adrenaline, a shaking fist knocking lightly on the door.
He shifted his weight, unsure if he was meant to be here, but he needed to see you. He needed to talk to you. He needed to actually kiss you, without interruptions. The both of you needed to celebrate, to feel a night of joy after this nightmare of a season.
The girl who opened the door looked tired, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie draped over her head. Your makeup-less face showed dark circles under your eyes—something that had gotten worse in the last couple of weeks. You looked like you were on the move, already with your shoes on and your suitcase packed, standing right in the doorway.
Logan saw it, but in his excited state—he didn’t immediately connect the dots.
“I got points—,” Logan started, his voice brimming with pride before he corrected himself, the enthusiasm in his tone softening slightly. “Well, one point, but still.”
“I know, Logan,” you replied gently. “I’m proud of you.”
Even if you hadn’t been at the paddock tonight, you hadn’t kept your eyes off the livestream for even a second. You may even have shed a tear as he crossed the finish line.
Logan beamed for a second, the glow of the accomplishment still warming his chest. “You weren’t there after the race, so I thought I’d come see you now,” he continued, a hint of nervousness as he paced uncomfortably in place. “A bunch of us are going out to dinner—”
But then his attention drifted. His brow furrowed, his attention drawn to the luggage again as realisation dawned.
“Why is your bag packed already?”
You looked at the suitcase, the same realisation flashing across your face as if you'd forgotten it was there, or perhaps hoped he wouldn't notice, and then back up at Logan with a visible uncertainty. You shook your head as you knew you had to explain it to him.
“They’ve agreed on an exemption from my contract,” you said quietly. “I’m not working the last two races.”
“B-but why?” Logan stammered.
“Because I asked for it,” you shrugged with an audible sigh. “I have a flight to catch tonight.”
Logan felt his stomach drop as he took in your words. “Wait, you’re going home?”
“No,” you scoffed. “I’m not sure I’m welcome there.”
The weight of those words settled heavy between you both. Logan was unsure of what to say. He felt like he knew more about your family than you let on, but he hadn’t expected you to be this lost. He thought you were still figuring it out, like him.
He swallowed hard. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the conversation, but nothing added up. “Then where—?”
“I’m starting out in San Francisco,” you said, cutting him off before he could finish. “And then I’ll see from there on.”
San Francisco. You’d mentioned it numerous times before. You had friends there. Professional skateboarders. It made sense that was where you were running to. It made sense that you had been distant these last weeks. Because this couldn’t have been an easy decision for you.
“I know we’ve talked a lot about your future, but mine is just as uncertain, and I need to do something about it. I can’t go home to a place where I don’t belong. I need to find my own ground.”
You were almost desperate as you spoke.
Logan took a step closer, still having a hard time grasping what was even going on. “Wasn’t that what this year was all about?”
“It was always a fixed-term contract, you know that. Angie just bought me some time to figure things out,” you explained.
“So, running away is you figuring things out?” His words came out sharper than intended, and regret instantly washed over him.
“Logan,” you said, almost pleading now, as if asking him not to push any further.
Maybe you weren’t running away now. Maybe you had already ran, the start of this season being your first stop.
“I’m sorry, I just—” Logan paused, his hands gesturing toward you as if he wanted to hold on to something, anything, to keep you from slipping away. “I have something to say to you.”
“I know you do,” you replied instantly, not letting him speak any further. Your voice creaked as you felt a cry clogging up your throat. “Trust me, I do too. But it’s not the right time for either of us. It will only complicate things.”
Logan opened his mouth to argue, but shut it just as quickly. The words he longed to say hung heavy in his throat, unsaid and unacknowledged. He knew you were right. He knew it. But the words felt hollow in the face of you leaving. The question hung in his throat, unspoken. Would you stay if I asked?
You both knew that the answer to that question would be yes, in a heartbeat. He couldn’t ask that from you. He would never be the one to hold you back. You had enough people against you. He needed to be with you, even if that meant oceans apart.
“Is this goodbye, then?” His voice cracked as he asked it.
You shook your head slowly, reaching into your carry-on bag. “I have this for you.” From the depths of the small bag, you pulled out a simple, leather-bound photo album, perfectly pristine, and handed it to him.
Logan looked down, fingers tracing the edges before opening it. Revealed was a collection of photos you had taken over the past year—candid shots, moments of him between races, behind the scenes. His chest tightened as he looked at the first one, an image of him laughing, helmet in hand, caught mid-conversation with his team. You had always seen him differently, and now, looking at these photos, he could see how much it meant to you.
There was a mixture of digital, film, and polaroid pictures, all signed with the corresponding city and date. You’d started this collection when you were simply work acquaintances. The best photos were the ones that had nothing to do with racing. Sightseeing, views from hotel room balconies, and restaurants with the local cuisine.
His ultimate favourite that you had included was the one he had taken of you in Mexico, barefoot with your sneakers hanging over you on a power line.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said, the guilt clear in your voice. “I didn’t know until this morning—”
“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he cut you off gently, his eyes still focused on the photos.
You bit your lip, still on the verge of tears. Seeing him so captivated by your year together in photos made it much harder.
He looked up, gently closing the album, and with a quick motion, he had embraced your body, wrapping his arms around you with a loud sigh. His t-shirt was soft against your skin as you felt it grow wet from your tears that had finally fallen. You could feel his heartbeat, ticking impatiently.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake by leaving?”
Again, if he said yes… You would rethink everything.
“No, I think you’re doing what you need to do.”
Logan was determined.
“I really have to go now,” you said softly, but you didn’t make any effort to move away from his embrace. You leaned into him instead, your head resting against his chest. You felt his trembling breaths, almost like a stuttering, keeping him from crying out loud.
“Just a couple more seconds,” Logan whispered into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he added, a slight tone of hope noticeable.
“I know we both will.”
Finally, you pulled back, but you left the goodbye unsaid. You reached to squeeze his hand as a last gesture. You’d never been good at goodbyes, so you left it to the lights. The soft glow of the Las Vegas skyline was the only thing illuminating the hotel hallway as you flipped the switch and slipped out the door, making a beeline for the lift.
It was the end of an era. Logan knew it before the year had even started. He just hadn’t imagined it to feel this important—to feel this uncertain. He hadn’t imagined you. And when he started to imagine you, it was already too late. It had always been too late.
He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t lost you. But it felt strangely like it.
Logan stood still in that hotel corridor for way too long, staring at the spot where you had been. This was the way it had to be, but he wasn’t sure that made it any easier.
. . .
Fort Lauderdale, USA
. . .
Logan went home after the season ended. He stayed for the prize giving ceremony. He stayed long enough to say goodbye to the people that it mattered to. Then he went home, and he wasn’t sure how he would look back at his past experiences. Now it mostly hurt, but still—he had made it there in the first place.
Home meant Florida this time. England, or Europe in general, had been his home for most of his conscious life, yet he never felt homesick for it. That was until now, when it wasn’t his home anymore. Florida was nice, it was always just nice. The weather was warm and the beaches were pretty, but when he was sunburnt to the point of peeling and had sand in his shoes, he missed the bleak English mornings with rain pattering against the windows.
He signed for Indycar in the end, and when the season started in March, Logan found it refreshing. He loved racing, and he loved that he got a chance to do it again. He didn’t love the pressure put on him, mostly by strangers on the internet. He didn’t love the rookie title because he wasn’t treated like a rookie. He’d raced in the pinnacle of motorsport, he should know better. He should be better. Logan tried to not let it get to him, because in the end—he was the one that had made it to the pinnacle. Not a lot of other drivers could say that, especially other Americans.
You liked every single one of his Instagram posts. Commented when he did well in races. That was the closest thing you two had to communication. Logan understood you, though—that you needed to leave when you had the chance to. He couldn’t have changed that. He wouldn’t have changed that.
He thought of messaging you, but he had a hard time figuring out what to say. Writing down something long in his notes app, only to cringe at himself seconds later. Nothing seemed right and nothing seemed fair, like he was guilt-tripping you into reminiscing the last year. He knew what he felt for you, but he could never force you to be closer to him, to give up your chance at exploring and finding yourself. It was better to just let you live, but he knew what you felt for him too, that was why it was so hard for him to stay away.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Logan liked every single one of your Instagram posts as well. You kept up with the diary, even if the travelling wasn’t as rapid as under the racing season.
He saw pictures of you all over the American west coast. You were on cable cars and steep streets in San Fransisco. You were skating in Venice Beach, surfing in Santa Cruz, and hiking in Yosemite. You went on road trips up north to go to concerts in Portland and Seattle for bands that Logan had never heard of.
You hadn’t been kidding when you said you had friends there. The skateboarding collective you lived with in Cole Valley was a never ending stream of eclectic people coming and leaving.
Your closest friend was the girl with bright pink hair that he had spotted on your Instagram before from your numerous university art projects. She skated on a competitive level and you would join to take photos of her.
Another one of your friends was a boy who looked strangely like Timothée Chalamet. He was a tattoo artist who would go skating with you at night to spot pretty sunsets. He tried not to be jealous. He should have confessed his feelings for you to even have a reason to be jealous.
Your posts became more scarce during the early summer. When you posted a slideshow of pictures of Tater Tot with a long caption about his passing, Logan understood why. He felt tears forming in his eyes as he watched the pictures of you and the golden retriever, the fur around his face having faded and his nose all pink from old age.
He felt like reaching out to you even more after that, especially since you were back home with your family and he could only imagine how that felt for you. When you posted a picture of a new family dog not too long after, with a normal boring dog name that he could tell you hadn’t chosen, he felt a slight anger inside.
You went skating around Europe after that, the girl with pink hair by your side. You posted a video of Angie trying to skate while in Barcelona, and Logan connected the dots that you had gone to the Spanish Grand Prix. He liked that you were still welcomed by the team, but he was unsure if he would’ve gotten a similar treatment.
On a weekend without racing, Logan was back home in Fort Lauderdale. He spent the evening with his brother and some friends in their backyard. He was there, but he didn’t feel present. Something you had taught him stemmed from anxiety. It wasn’t as bad as it was during his last F1 season, but he still liked to look at your pictures as a distraction when he felt anxious. The stories they told were still better than what was going on in his actual life.
“Since when are you interested in skateboarding?” his brother's voice broke through his focus. Logan barely had time to register him hovering over his shoulder before he took a seat across from him, sinking into a deck chair with a teasing grin.
Logan didn’t realise that he had a video of yours on repeat. It was you in a skatepark in Copenhagen, landing a trick you’d never done before.
“Oh, I’m not—” he started, his tongue suddenly feeling clumsy in his mouth as he fumbled for an excuse. “It’s the old Williams photographer, she’s travelling to all these places to skate. It’s quite cool to see.”
His brother raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Logan flushed under the scrutiny, knowing full well that his brother could read him like an open book. He didn’t just think it was quite cool. He was invested—and not just in the skateboarding.
“A girl, you say?” his brother pressed.
“It’s not like that, she’s on the other side of the world,” Logan protested quickly, slipping his phone back in his pocket as if to hide any evidence of his admiration.
His brother could only laugh at his poor attempt of conviction. “Would it be like that if she was closer?”
Logan froze, unable to answer. His brother was able to read his expression all too well again, his smile softening as he watched Logan carefully.
“I am taking that as a yes.”
. . .
Oxfordshire, UK
. . .
Angela and Matthew Thompson, read the sign outside of the rented out manor house. Somewhere in the English countryside, as the evening sun cast a golden glow over the courtyard. You’d snapped photos of the garden and the exterior, but the sign stopped you for a moment.
You found it odd, firstly seeing Angie be called by her actual first name and then secondly, not by her maiden surname. You guessed that was what it was like—getting married. The formal side of it all, at least.
Click.
You got a quick photo of the sign before you entered back into the manor. The big ballroom was filled with the soft murmur of guests and the rustling of chiffon dresses.
The ceremony had been earlier during the day, a small gathering with only immediate family around. You’d only been there because of your duty to photograph the entire thing. Otherwise you probably wouldn’t have. Angie’s cousin was her only bridesmaid and Matthew had his closest childhood friend as his only groomsman. Both their parents were present as well, and Angie’s grandmother had been ring bearer. Adorable, that was the only way to describe it. Quaint and quite literally perfect, in the manor’s rose garden with birds chirping and a violin player.
Click.
You stood in the doorway to the ballroom, adjusting your camera, scanning the scene for the perfect shot. You found it in two of the party’s younger guests, looking at the wedding cake with temptation in their eyes. The was just something about kid’s in formal clothes. A little crooked bowtie and sparkly silver ballerina shoes.
The reception was bigger, with friends, distant relatives and work colleagues invited. Your family was included in that, but you had gotten good at keeping a distance and they had gotten better at ignoring you instead of arguing with you. That was some sort of improvement. Having the excuse that you were technically working was also in your favour, even if Angie probably wanted to drink you under the table and get you dancing one of Matthew’s rich colleagues.
There hadn’t been a dress code beyond formal, but somehow a lot of the guests seemed to match, making the photography blend together in perfect hues. You couldn’t wait to edit and put them together. Sage green, baby pink and light yellow. The men and their suits in tones of beige and blue. You guessed that was the English summer in colours.
You were never really one to dress up nicely. You preferred something practical, but even you felt a little whimsical tonight. A periwinkle dress and white heels—a complete juxtaposition of your usual streetwear and sneakers.
Click.
You managed to get a picture of the happy couple from far way. Candid, when they thought no one was watching. Those were usually the ones that turned out the best. No posing, no fixed smiles. Angie showed a wide and almost painfully happy grin as Matthew whispered something in her ear, sneaking in a kiss on her cheek. Only they would know what had been said when they, years down the line, flipped through the photo album from their special day.
That was the beauty of photos. The secret stories they held.
You smiled to yourself, getting lost in the scene that showed through the viewfinder, shifting to find something new and equally magical in the movements of the ballroom.
Suddenly, all you could see was one singular familiar face.
You blinked, not believing your eyes before you zoomed in. Tall, blond, blue eyes catching the light—talking to a man you recognised as a Williams engineer. It couldn’t be… but it totally was.
In a navy tailored suit, his tie slightly loosened, he raised a champagne coupe to his lips. He smiled at something the engineer said, flashing his teeth. You took a picture, and then one more—it was achingly familiar, yet so different.
It was like he knew he had a camera pointed towards him with how quick he reacted. He hadn’t even seen you when you took the first one, but by the time you were about to take a third one, his face was turned completely towards you—looking at your lens, looking at you.
And of course, he waved. He smiled and he waved.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He quickly excused himself to the engineer and was then set on only you. He crossed the room with easy confidence, threading through the crowd. Since when was he so smooth?
You lowered your camera as your breath got caught in your throat, finally looking at him not through the viewfinder.
“Logan,” you whispered, voice softer than expected.
He said your name with an easy familiarity, one you’d almost forgotten. It pulled you back six months in time in mere seconds, as if nothing had changed.
“Uhm, H-how did you get here?” you stammered, cursing yourself for sounding so surprised. You should’ve known he’d be here. Angie’s wedding had been a big talking point even back when he was driving for Williams.
“There’s these things called airplanes,” he teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Ever heard of them?”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile was impossible to suppress. Silence fell over the two of you as you struggled to find ways to continue the conversation. The tension was palpable, stretching thin as if either of you could snap it with the wrong word. Logan looked lost too, like the confidence he thought he had washed away when he finally got close to you.
You’d thought about it—what it would be like to talk to him again if you ever got the chance. Being speechless was never in those thoughts.
“You’re hair has gotten long,” you blurted out, desperate to fill the silence and because it was honestly the first thing you noticed to be different about him. His blond hair had grown longer, with a slight wave to it, almost curling at the ends.
“Is that a compliment?” Logan mused.
“Yes,” you were too quick to reply. “Or, I think so. It’s different.”
Logan chuckled softly as you winced at how clumsy you sounded.
“So… you work weddings too?” he asked, glancing at the camera still in your hands.
Great. He was shit at small talk too.
“Only when it’s Angie,” you answered, trying to sound at ease. “I promised to make her look gorgeous even before she met Matthew.”
You did not remember the first time she asked you. It was a decade ago at this point. But every time you had taken a photo of her—professionally and privately—she liked to remind you of how she felt like no one else ever had captured her fairly, or flatteringly. She was always your biggest fan, even when you were just taking grainy pictures of your friends at the local skatepark.
“Can I see?” Logan asked and you handed him the camera without a doubt.
There was something so familiar in the gesture, like muscle memory kicking in. You used to share everything with him. You were happy to know that even through it all, he at least still cared about your photography.
Before you could even react, he raised the camera and snapped a picture of you, completely unprepared. The flash was too bright, and you squealed in surprise.
“Dude, what the fuck?” you exclaimed, blinking away the aftershock of the flash.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Dude? You’ve turned American!”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “I have not turned American.”
Logan joined your laughter, but only for a second—something on the camera catching his attention instead. He looked at it intensely, only for you to realise that it was the photo he’d taken of you. Overexposed and blurry. Not perfect in any way, but candidly capturing a moment.
“My god, you look lovely.”
He said it softly, like an afterthought, like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.
Heat crept up to your cheeks as he handed you the camera back to you. You couldn’t look too long at the photo he’d taken of you, so you pressed the button to show the one taken prior. It was him, of course—smiling as he had clocked you from across the room.
“So do you,” you said, showing him the picture of himself. “Happiness suits you.”
Logan’s smile faltered for a moment as you surprised even yourself with your honesty. You realised how he could overthink what you had just said—like happiness was something new for him to express. And maybe that was true. But it was a sad realisation, and a mortifying thing for someone else to have discovered about oneself.
Before an uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you, a familiar voice broke through the moment.
“There you are!” Alex’s voice was bright, his cheeks tinted pink from champagne and dancing. “I’ve been looking for you!”
You turned, grateful for the distraction, as he came up and enveloped you in a hug. You smiled, hugging him back, telling him how you’d missed him.
“Logan!” he exclaimed as he turned his attention to him. “It’s so good to see you.”
They did one of those awkward side-hugs that men insisted on giving each other. Logan said something similar in response, his voice warm but his eyes still flicked to you. You gathered from just that little interaction that their departure must’ve been stretched and difficult. They were good friends, for christ sake, but Williams had made everything toxic.
Alex beamed. “Well, come on! It’s my turn to pester Paddy with a camera. Scoot together.”
Before either of you could protest, Alex grabbed your camera, leaving you both standing there, shoulder to shoulder. A fire burning through the fabric where your bare shoulder touched his blazer.
Click.
. . .
After long speeches, and first dances, and consuming too much wedding cake, you found yourself on a balcony, taking a breather, looking out over the garden. You heard the door open behind you, and it was like you could feel that it was his presence. You let out a small laugh as you kept your eyes focused on the view.
“What are we looking at?” Logan’s voice came soft and steady beside you, making you turn your head.
“My sister sharing a cigarette with a Williams mechanic,” you scoffed, nodding towards two figures below the balcony.
Your sister, known as an overly ambitious goody two shoes, wasn’t only sharing the cigarette—she was shotgunning it. Your past self would’ve wanted to go tattle to your parents, but now you were kind of glad to see a human, imperfect side of your sister, acting promiscuous with a greasy mechanic.
There was a brief silence as the evening air wrapped around you. Logan slipped his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight slightly.
“How’s it been? With your family and all?” he slowly asked, trying to make it sound casual.
“They still treat me like a toddler, if that’s what you’re wondering. But we don’t argue anymore—just pretend each other doesn’t exist,” you scoffed.
He glanced at you, the hint of a frown on his face, but didn’t press further. Instead, he pulled out his phone from his suit pocket as it vibrated, the faint sound breaking the quiet between you.
You let your eyes linger on him for a moment. The small gesture shouldn’t have meant anything, but something about the way his fingers moved so delicately over the screen made you pause. Then you saw it—the photo behind his clear phone case.
“That’s from Mexico,” you said without thinking.
Logan glanced at you, then back at his phone, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. My favourite from the album you gave me.”
You blinked, remembering the moment instantly—tossing shoes over a power line, him carrying you home, Alex doing what he did best—interrupting.
“I know it’s slightly pathetic, but that was one of the best days of my life,” Logan admitted, shying away from looking at you.
It had been one of the few peaceful moments amidst the storm of races, pressure, and long, chaotic nights. It was supposed to be just another moment, but it had become more. You both knew it meant so much more.
“It’s not pathetic, Logan. At least, I don’t think so,” you reassured him. Your heart clenched at his honesty, but you felt it all the same as him.
Logan let out a small breath of laughter, but the smile that accompanied it didn’t reach his eyes. He slid his phone back into his pocket, but the photo lingered in your mind. Logan glanced back at the ballroom, then back at you, his gaze lingering as if he was working up the courage to say something else.
But then his eyes dropped, right to where your arm touched against your ribs, a small glint of ink peeking out, darker than any of your other tattoos. Logan froze.
“That’s my number…” he said, his voice soft with disbelief.
You felt your breath hitch as he stared at it. You instinctively rubbed your fingers over the tattoo, tracing the outline of the small F1 car inked delicately with his racing number on the nose. You suddenly felt very exposed, but not in a bad way. You moved your arm to give him a better view.
“What other number could I possibly have picked?” you wondered, tilting your head. “I did tell you that I was planning to get one.”
His hand nervously reached for yours, his thumb brushing over the tattoo with tenderness, touching you in a way he hadn’t before. The new ink sat just centimetres above the tiny paw prints you had in memory of Tater Tot. Logan could’ve cried on the spot.
“I really like it,” he whispered.
He dared to meet your gaze. You stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything between you suddenly heavier than ever. His thumb continued to caress the tattoo.
“Are we okay, Logan?”
He exhaled as you asked it, out of relief it seemed.
“I thought everything would be different, seeing you again,” Logan explained. “But I strangely feel like nothing has changed since Vegas.”
You nodded, a smile creeping up on your face, as you could only agree with him. The distance, the time apart, hadn’t dulled anything between you. If anything, it had only clarified what had always been there.
In the background, you could still hear the music play loudly from inside the ballroom. Your sister and her mechanic were long gone from the garden. You had nothing to worry about and everything to win.
“So… how do you feel about dancing at weddings, Sargeant?”
. . .
The manor had rooms for all the guests to stay overnight. You stumbled into yours in the small hours of the night—tipsy from champagne, tired from dancing. Logan was right behind you, laughing at you almost falling over from trying to unclasp your heels.
“Need some help there?” Logan teased.
“I’ve got it,” you mumbled, finally getting them off to feel the carpet against your bare feet.
Logan took a stance by the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his navy suit pants, looking out onto the moonlit garden. His jaw was tense, a sign that he was thinking—no, overthinking.
You watched him for a moment, how his fingers flexed slightly in his pockets, how his shoulders rose and fell with a breath, before you went into the en suite bathroom, desperate to get your makeup off after wearing it all day. It was an oddly familiar feeling, being alone with him in a hotel room.
The rest of the wedding had been so lovely. It hadn’t mattered much about what had been left unsaid, but instead what mattered was the way you acted towards each other now. You had been bracing yourself for the moment it all would break loose the entire night, ever since your eyes met his across the reception hall, but you had no idea how to start.
It turned out, you didn’t have to.
“You wanna know something?” Logan’s voice was slow, his back still turned against you, as he spoke. He waited for you to say something, but all you did was mumble a huh from the bathroom, clearly more focused on your makeup than on him.
He took a breath, slowly turning to you. He felt himself melt at the sight of you—in your pretty dress and a squeaky clean bare face. His gaze held yours, and in that quiet second, the world shifted.
“I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you.”
The words slipped from his lips easily, almost like they had always been there, waiting for this moment to escape.
You froze in your movement, putting your skincare back in your makeup bag, not sure that you had heard him correctly. “What?”
“I said,” Logan repeated, a touch firmer, “I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you.”
You stepped away from the sink, opting to stand in the doorway instead as you watched him—how emotions washed over his face like colours melting together in a sunset. You had a hard time hiding the smile that began to form on your face. “You’re in love with me?”
Logan shifted, looking almost sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t look so smug,” he muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re gonna make me regret saying anything.”
But you didn’t feel smug—not in the slightest. Your chest instead filled with warmth, something dangerously close to… well, love.
“Well, excuse me for being a little happy about the fact that you love me back,” you said, almost argumentatively, crossing your arms.
“Back? You love me too?” Logan walked closer, almost stumbling as he passed the corner of the bed.
“Yeah, dumbass.” You rolled your eyes at his oblivion. “I’ve had a crush on you since before you even knew I existed.”
“A crush?” Logan chuckled, a sound full of disbelief and a little wonder. “How long have you—”
“Since Baku,” you interrupted, your voice quieter now, more serious. “I think I’ve loved you since you stayed with me in Baku.”
That admission hung in the air, heavy with memories of long flights, foreign cities, whispered conversations in crowded spaces, and the closeness that had grown between you. Logan stared at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
Maybe the two of you hadn’t exactly known what the other wanted to say, that last night in Vegas. Or maybe, neither of you could’ve expected the intensity of emotions that would come to the surface when you finally did get to say what you had wanted to.
“Why are you still standing so far away?” Logan took a deep breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Come take what’s yours,” he then whispered, his voice a soft command that sent shivers down your spine.
You didn’t need to be told twice.
Without another thought, you exited the bathroom and crossed the room in a few quick strides. You felt your pulse thrumming in your ears as you reached him, and without hesitation, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling a steady heartbeat beneath your palms.
Logan’s arms closed around you, his warm hands brushing the skin of your back, exposed by the low hem of your dress. He pulled you closer, until there was no space left between you.
His lips found yours, soft and sure. You melted into the kiss, into him. This time, there was no one to interrupt you. Months of longing and unspoken feelings poured into one single moment.
As soon as Logan felt you smile against his lips, he was sure world peace was achievable. With more confidence, he kissed you with a feverish intent, slipping his tongue in your mouth, falling backwards onto the mattress with you on top of him.
Moving your legs, you straddled his lap, sinking down comfortably on top of him while you put your arms around him. He rested against the bed frame, hair getting messed up as your fingers played at the nape of his neck. You continued to kiss, his hands rushing to touch your body—one on your cheek and the other on your waist. Your dress bunched up around your thighs as you pressed closer to him, feeling the heat of his body through layers of fabric.
You pulled apart after a moment, but only far enough to inhale, your noses still touching. The room was dead quiet, save for the panting sound of your breathing.
“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you,” Logan murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “The things I’ve held back…” he added softly, his thumb now gently stroking the side of your face.
“You could tell them to me now,” you teased, sneaking in a small peck. A smirk tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips. “My brain can’t really focus when you’re sat on me like this,” he said, his fingers tracing slow circles along the exposed skin of your upper thigh.
You bit your bottom lip, brain filled with lust and sudden bravery. “Unzip me, please?”
“Should we— I just don’t want to rush anything,” Logan mumbled out of nervousness.
“You don’t think a year worth of tension is enough?” you whispered, smiling.
Logan swallowed, his hand daring to move behind you. The sound of your zipper easily sliding open filled the silence between you as his fingers delicately touched your exposed back. His eyes never left your body as the thin straps fell off your shoulders, the top half of your dress pooling around your waist. With a soft tug, you were all exposed. The white lace of your bra doing almost nothing to conceal your chest.
You were privy to his persistent stare at your body. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t, and your satisfaction was hard to withhold, a devious smile forming on your lips. His hands moved under your skirt, gently lifting it over your head, revealing delicate white lace panties that matched your bra.
“Did you plan this?” Logan had to fight himself to not let his jaw physically drop at the sight of you.
He held a certain emotion in the way he looked at you. You’d seen desire before in a lover’s eyes. This was softer. This was different. Devotion, maybe. Love, most definitely.
“Better safe than sorry,” you shrugged.
With a soft exhale, he chuckled in utter disbelief. Dipping his head, he couldn’t help but kiss the valley between your breasts, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. His hair tickled against your neck as his mouth explored, surely leaving a mark or two.
With a quick movement, he unclasped your bra, discarding it as he continued to kiss your skin. Your breasts, your collarbones, your neck and jaw. He even moved to kiss a spot on your arm, making sure you took notice at how his lips gently pressed against your tattoo of his racing number.
You both took a moment, letting your eyes linger on each other’s. It was hard to find things to say, but you guessed the silence, panting breaths and growing humidity were enough to express what you both wanted.
Your fingers diligently started to unbutton his shirt, leaving kisses on his neck and sternum as each inch of his skin was revealed for you. When you reached the last button, your hands dangerously close to his lower stomach, Logan moved swiftly to remove his shirt in one go, tossing it on the floor to land next to your dress.
Immediately, you sunk your fingers back into his blond waves, tugging lightly as you kissed his swollen lips. He matched your ferocity, sliding his hands from your waist down to your ass, squeezing over the soft lace. Both of you groaned at the feeling of your hips grinding down onto the fabric covering his growing hardness, almost a surprised feeling at how quickly it all had evolved.
“I’m starting to think you might like me or something,” you giggled, like an angel.
Logan wanted to argue. He wanted to say something witty. But he had no choice. With your wandering hands, all he could do was bite down on his lip to drown a pathetic moan trying to escape. With your wandering hands, you pulled his zipper open, helping him out of the rest of his clothes.
His cock sat hard in the space between your bodies, and as you tentatively touched him, feeling hot and heavy in your hand, he whined out a sting of curses. His stomach flexed as he ached for real friction, your hand only lazily stroking him. He groaned, head falling back to hit the headboard. The loveliest of pinks suffused his cheeks, a trail of rose-coloured blotches lingering all the way down his chest.
He tried to drag you closer to him with a firm grip on your hips, desperately searching for more. His hand found its way down between your legs, gently touching over a wet patch that had formed on your panties.
You hummed at the sensation, kissing his jawline, feeling him tense at your touch. “Can I ride you?”
“Mhm, yeah… you want that?” Logan panted, gentle little breaths pushing past his lips.
Nodding enthusiastically, you placed your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him, eyes darkened. “I have condoms in the bathroom,” you said getting off of his lap, walking over. At the loss of touch, Logan couldn’t help but audibly whine.
You made a point to shake your hips as you walked. You knew you had his eyes on you. After fetching the little foil packet from your makeup bag, you stopped in the doorway to pull your underwear off, dragging the flimsy lace agonisingly slowly down your legs as Logan could only watch.
“You look heavenly,” he whispered as you towered over him to kiss him, before straddling his lap again, your naked body finally touching his without anything in between.
Logan swallowed his moans as you carefully tore open the condom packet and rolled it over his sensitive length. He helped you lift you up on your knees, enough to align himself with your soaking entrance. A year of tension really was enough foreplay. Fluttering around him, you adjusted to all of him, carefully and slowly moving into a perfect rhythm.
You couldn’t be held responsible for the words and sounds leaving your mouth as you rocked against him. His hands gripped your waist and then your ass, kneading the soft flesh, spilling out between his fingers. You heard him suck in a breath as your fingers got entangled in his hair, gently pulling at the ends.
“Logan,” his name left your mouth with a delicate whine.
“Hm?”
You needed him to look at you. Logan’s hand found home on your cheeks, keeping his eyes tightly locked with yours as you connected in the most primal way. “Tell me I’m yours,” he whispered gently, feeling himself bottom out inside of you.
“You’re mine, all mine, baby,” you reassured, finding his lips for a messy kiss.
Slowly, you started bouncing faster, Logan’s hands guided you, helping you with every move, rise and fall. You were both stuttering out moans at the almost overwhelming feeling—the wetness, the squeezing, the friction.
It didn’t take long before you were both panting, flushed messes, the movement slowing down as the desperate feeling of release grew stronger.
“Are your legs getting tired?” Logan asked, voice hoarse. “F-fuck, let me help.”
He tilted you, shifting to a more horizontal position, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, sucking and kissing wherever you could reach. With forceful thrusts, he up fucked into you, digging his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you even closer.
He took care of you. Your tits bounced against him as you moved together. The tension inside of you only growing and spiralling. Logan reached between your bodies, moving his limber fingers to circle your puffy clit.
You repeated his name through broken moans, all choked and caught in your throat, as he continued his mission. Through deep breaths, you got lost in the scent of him. Cologne, musky and warm. It was almost distracting, until he reached a soft spot, thrusting inside of you.
“I’ve got you,” he reassured. “I’m right here, let it all out.” Logan brought you over the edge. You bit down on his shoulder as the feeling washed over you, a white fire lighting from inside of you. His writhing against you told you he wasn’t long after, filling the condom as he rode out both of your highs. He rested still inside of you for a while as you both caught your breaths.
You needed help to get off him, your legs still shaking. With a tired moan, he slipped out and you collapsed on the bed next to him, feeling the sheets ruffle around you. Logan glimmered under the moonlight seeping in through the windows, as sweat stuck to his flushed skin. His outgrown hair falling over his forehead.
You faced each other on the bed, your voices barely above whispers, not necessarily thanking each other, but more just mumbles about how special this felt. Logan’s hand found your arm, delicately tracing the car tattooed on your bicep. It tickled, so you let out a breathy laugh as you placed your hand on top of his.
Logan’s lips curled into a lazy smile as he felt your reaction. “Did you get any other tattoos?”
“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head lightly. “I think you’ve seen them all now.”
There was a softness in his expression that made you feel safer than ever before. It was the kind of comfort that came with time, with knowing someone deeply and being known in return.
“When did you know that you liked me?” you asked suddenly, thinking back to your own admission about falling for the sight of him through your lens before you had even had a conversation together.
“In Australia,” he said after a beat, his voice gentle. “You were talking so fondly about tater tots.”
“Tater tots?” you echoed with a grin. “That’s when you knew?”
You had a feeling it wasn’t only about your love for fried potatoes, thinking about what had happened just moments before that conversation. He had started to like you because you cared about him in a moment where he felt his weakest.
“I was quietly observing you before that, but I think that was our first actual conversation,” Logan said, reminiscing. “And then,” he continued, his tone growing softer, “I just kept falling for you. Every city, every race, every little thing you did.”
Your heart warmed in your chest as his words washed over you. You felt the pull of the past, the shared experiences, the way your lives had intertwined across the globe.
“Seeing you throw your sneakers over the power line in Mexico made me realise that I love you,” Logan finally whispered.
“I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching to gently kiss him again… and again.
Afterward, you left the bed to take a moment for yourself in the bathroom. Discarding the condom, peeing to prevent a UTI, staring at yourself in the mirror for an undisclosed amount of time. You looked like a mess, but a beautiful mess—with splotchy love bites and scratches.
You turned the shower on, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t get the clinging feeling of sweat off your body.
“Are you getting in with me?” you asked Logan, peeping out behind the bathroom door to hide your naked body, spotting him still sat on the bed, the sheets covering him.
Logan lifted his gaze from the floor, meeting yours with a slow smile. He didn’t move; he only tilted his head in thought. “Why does that feel more intimate than what we just did?”
“Because it is,” you hesitantly answered, fidgeting with your fingers as your nails tapped on the door.
It didn’t take long for you both to be drenched and humid in the warm water of the shower, not having any hurry of getting out, steam fogging up the bathroom. You were just enjoying the closeness for now. Body against body. Your hands massaged his scalp as you washed shampoo out of it.
“Soo…” Logan began, dragging out the word, droplets were falling from his hair over his face. “What happens now?”
“Round two?” you teased, buying yourself a moment to think about the actual implication of his question.
Logan chuckled, but waited for a true answer. Round two was inevitable. He was asking something deeper.
“I’ve got nothing to do and a newfound love for racing and the US,” you finally said, easy as pie. “You should take advantage of that.”
“I think I might,” he smiled. “Life is a lot better with you close.”
You reached up to cup his cheeks, the pads of your thumbs gently rubbing over his pink cheekbones. His eyes looked onto yours, pulling you closer as his hands found the curve of your waist, the water still falling on you like an outburst of rain from a stormy sky, electricity unloading.
“We’ll be alright, I think,” you mumbled, gracefully placing a kiss on his wet lips.
Logan’s voice echoed softly in the bathroom, words leaving with an unusual certainty.
“I’m starting to think so too.”
Thank you for reading! ♡ Please comment, reblog, like or send me a messenger pigeon.
I'm calling this beast my best attempt at a fix-it fic. This was a nightmare and tumblr's paragraph limit is my mortal enemy. I had to remove like three scenes to even fit all of this which messed up the timeline like crazy. The title is from Worst Case Kid by Tommy Lefroy!
I just really love this.
all mine | l.n
summary: friends with benefits situations are all fun and games until someone starts catching feelings.
warnings: language, sexual themes, fluff, kinda fwb!au, college student!reader, idk this kinda sucks
masterlist | listen
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
the two of you had been up for an hour or so, way before the sun had started to rise and shine in through the windows of his bedroom. the same sun that lit up the boy in front of you so perfectly that he almost looked angelic. the way his eyes shone in the lighting, the mix of blue and green suddenly entrancing you as he hovered over you.
your hands came up to run through his messy curls. you smiled softly at the fact that the soft tangles were your doing, beings your hands were just buried in his hair a few moments prior. then, your mind wandered and thought how you could live the rest of your life contently if it meant you would be waking up next to him every morning.
he moved his head to the crook of your neck, placing kisses along the skin as you tilted your head to give him more access to the area. yeah, you could get used to this every morning.
you knew he’d never think the same way, especially when you were the one who made it very clear that it was a no strings attached situation. he’d never feel the same way because even you weren’t supposed to feel this way.
however, as he moved to rest his chin on your chest so he could look up at you, it was all you could think about. and he could tell the gears in your head were turning when your smiled softly faded, eyes still locked on his.
he cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow slightly raised as he looked over your facial features, “you okay?”
you blinked, nodding and smiling softly, shaking your head in efforts to get the thoughts to dissipate, “hmm? yeah, sorry, just kind of zoned out for a second.”
he knew you better than that, shifting as he moved to lay next to you, head resting on his palm, “i know that look, you’ve got something on your mind. sure you don’t want to talk?”
it wasn’t fair. he was so kind, gentle, caring, all of it. and you couldn’t even call him yours.
you nodded, “yeah. thanks, though.”
he hummed, reaching over and grabbing his phone from the nightstand. you held a mental debate with yourself on if you should stay and bask in the warmth and comfort of not only the boy next to you, but the way too comfortable bed you were laying in.
“wanna make breakfast, or go get something or whatever?”
mind made up: go before you slowly start entering the hole you were slowly but surely digging for yourself.
you threw the comfort off your body, wincing slightly at the cold air around you. god, this is so hard. it shouldn’t be this hard.
“‘m gonna go, actually,” you said, grabbing your clothes from last night off the floor, shoving some things back in the overnight bag you happily packed after classes yesterday, “‘ve got some homework.”
he tried to mask his frown, knowing he shouldn’t be upset about the fact that you didn’t want to stay. you probably shouldn’t anyway, but he really wanted you to.
there was nothing lando loved more in the world than you and your company. was it worth breaking the agreement? worth losing a friend and someone he could talk to? maybe, maybe not. he knew what he wanted, and it was you. however, he couldn’t quite put a finger on what you wanted.
he had even wondered if he was the one you’d think about at night when you couldn’t sleep, staring up at the ceiling. because you were the one he’d always manage to think about. it was always you.
you were slipping on your shoes when he came back to reality, “i’ll drive you home.”
you nodded, watching as he got up from the bed and grabbed the hoodie that sat on the floor. the same one he wore last night, the one you were desperately pulling him closer by after a few episodes of the show the two of you had started last week.
he tugged on a pair of sneakers, grabbing his phone and wallet before leading you through his house. you trailed behind him, really not wanting to go back to the house you shared with your roommates, but you had to. if you stayed here any longer, every single line you both had made clear a few months prior would be crossed. a friendship would be jeopardized.
simply, the thought of ruining everything wasn’t worth it. was it?
he grabbed the keys to the mclaren sitting in his driveway, “do you have everything?”
you patted the pocket on your hoodie, feeling your phone and taking a glimpse inside your bag, “looks like it.”
he nodded as the two of you walked out of the house. he opened the door for you, just like always did, closing it behind you. he climbed in on the drivers side, starting the engine.
“you sure you’re not hungry or anything? don’t want a coffee or a tea?”
you looked over at the boy next to you, smiling softly and shaking your head, “‘m okay, thanks though.”
he nodded, pulling out of the driveway and handing you his phone to play music. you started playing the playlist you had made on his spotify account, a mixture of both of your favorite songs.
however, the music you were playing wasn’t even being paid attention to as you both were in deep thought the whole drive. both thinking about the other and how you both desperately wished things could be different. how you were both feeling the same way towards each other, just the other was too scared to admit it first.
he pulled up in front of the house, a soft sigh leaving your lips. partially out of relief because you were home and you could work on the work you’d been stressing about all week, but partially out of disappointment.
“want me to walk you up?”
you grabbed your bag, shaking your head, “no, ‘s okay,” you smiled softly, “thanks for, erm…”
you trailed off when your eyes met his. he laughed, noticing the slight blush rising to your cheeks, “don’t have to thank me.”
you nodded, “right, sorry.”
“don’t have to apologize either,” he smiled, “i’ll uhm… see you later?”
you nodded, desperately wanting to lean over and kiss his cheek, like you normally would’ve. but you knew if you did, you would eventually start kissing his lips and you’d never stop.
“yeah, i’ll see you later.”
you opened the door, climbing out and shutting the door before walking up to the house. he watched you make your way up to the door, fishing for your keys in the mess of the bag. you put the key in and turned around, sending him a small wave.
he waved back, pulling away once you walked inside the house and shut the door. you let out a breath, leaning against the wood for support and running a hand over your face. after giving yourself a second, you made your way into the living room.
“oh my god,“ the brunette, sarah, said with a teasing smile, “you’re able to walk after a night at lando’s? what a miracle.”
you flipped her off, causing the blonde, ashley, to snort from her place on the couch. you hung your bag on the barstool, sitting down and grabbing the bowl of cereal from sarah.
“oh, yeah, sure,” she mumbled, throwing her hands up in the air, “i wasn’t eating that.”
you gave her a look, shoving a spoonful of cereal in your mouth.
“you’re awfully quiet,” ashley said, entering the kitchen now as she stood at the coffee maker, “you alright?”
you were silent for a minute, both your roommates looking at you with concerned looks before you spoke up, “i don’t know.”
they both had the same expression, eyebrows raised, “what do you mean?”
you dropped your head onto your arm as you groaned. the two girls looked at each other confused before ashley questioned you, “y/n? what’s going on?”
“i like him.” you said sitting up.
sarah rolled her eyes, pulling the bowl of cereal back towards her, “well, yeah, tell us something we don’t know.”
“no, i mean,” you huffed, “i like like him.”
“okay,” ashley said into her coffee cup, “and what about that?”
“i can’t!”
“what do you mean you ‘can’t like him’?” sarah said, mouthful of cereal.
“i can’t like him because if i like him, it’ll be breaking the rules. and he’ll never like me back because of ‘em,” you said, “i wish i never came up with them in the first place.”
sarah snorted, “hold on,“ placing the spoon in the now empty bowl, “you think he doesn’t like you back?”
“i don’t just think, i know.”
ashley looked over at sarah and the two girls snickered. you gave them confusing looks.
“what? what’s so funny?”
“y/n, i love you,” ashley said, “but you’re an idiot.”
“it’s a good thing you’re really pretty because you’re completely oblivious.” sarah agreed. you sent them both confusing looks.
“what’re you talking about?”
“y/n, come on!” ashley laughed, “open your eyes! this man doesn’t like you, he’s in love with you.”
you gave them blank stares before you shook your head, “no, there’s absolutely no way-“
“think about it,” sarah said, “would he show up and bring you flowers every time you two go out? would he stop by and bring you a coffee, or a tea, or something to eat, which he’s literally memorized the orders for by the way, every time you’re studying? he knows you well enough to know that if you’re focused hard enough, you forget to eat and that you can’t study without some form of caffeine.”
“plus, the way he looks at you,” ashley added, “his face literally lights up every time you enter the room.“
you felt your heart go to your throat, but you somehow managed a croaked out response, “you think?”
“please,” ashley said, “we know. plus, ‘ve asked him.”
you and sarah looked at the blonde, a simultaneous, “you what?” slipping from your mouths.
ashley shrugged, raising her hands in mock defense, “i just wanted to know!”
“what did he say?”
“when did you ask?”
she put her coffee mug down, “it was the other night, he was watching you two laugh and dance at that stupid, lame ass party we went to. he was literally watching you the way they do in movies when they love someone,” she said, “so i asked him, ‘do you like her?’ and he nodded and kind of blushed a little bit before he was like, ‘maybe a bit more than that’.”
“oh my god,” sarah said, looking over at you. you sat there in shock for a minute before looking at your friends.
“what do i do? what do i say?” you asked the two girls looking at you.
“just talk to him, tell him how you feel,” ashley said, “it’s not like anything could go wrong, you already know how he feels.”
she had a point.
₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊
it was evening now, the sun setting through your curtains as you sat at your desk. you hummed along to the music playing through your headphones, scribbling down the rest of the notes you needed for this week.
you tilted your neck to the side, trying to fight through the aching pain in your muscles as you had sat at your desk all day. the music got quieter for a second before a soft ping rang through your headphones.
lando
how’s schoolwork going?
you smiled softly, clicking on the notification before typing back a response.
pretty good, actually. kind of wish i had taken a break to go out to get dinner with the girls.
you went back to your textbook before the woosh came through this time, another text popping up in the messages between the two of you.
have you not eaten today?
you looked at the clock, 8:30pm. well, shit…
guess i was too wrapped up to realize 😅
the bubble appeared on his side of the conversation, another sound playing through after he sent his message.
fancy some dinner company, then?
you smiled again, and if your feet weren’t tucked under your legs, you were sure you’d be probably be kicking them. god, he had you whipped.
as long as you bring something good.
he was quick to respond this time.
be there soon.
and he was a man to his word, showing up to your house almost forty minutes later. he had texted you that he was pulling up so you could open the door for him. once you opened the door, you smiled at the boy who stood with a bag of food in his hand.
“hey,” he smiled back at you. you stepped aside to let him in.
“hey,” you said, the two of you making your way to the kitchen as he set the bag down on the island, “whatcha get?”
you tried peeking in the bag but he pulled it away from you before you could look. you looked up at him as he sent you a teasing smile.
“close your eyes.”
“lando-“
“just close your eyes,” he chuckled back. you huffed, a soft smile on your face nonetheless as you closed your eyes. he pulled the takeout container, placing it in front of you before he fished out his.
“okay, open.”
you glanced down at the counter and your smile got wider. your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant sitting in front of you. your eyes met his as he smiled at you.
“you went all the way across town?”
“yeah,” he shrugged, popping open the lid to his dinner, “that’s what took me so long. sorry about that, by the way.”
you shook your head, “it’s okay,” you said, opening your own container, “i just… thank you.”
you smiled up at him and he swore he’d do the drive a hundred times if it meant you got to look at him like that.
“don’t have to thank me.” he said for the second time that day.
the two of you ate and made some comfortable conversation. most of them being jokes and the other giggling at them. he followed you up the stairs to your room after, the door closing behind him.
you sat down at your desk as he plopped onto your bed, “how much do you have left?”
you hummed, skimming through your notes and checking the check list on your computer, “another page or so,” you glanced over at him, softly wincing from the pain in your neck, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“your neck sore?”
you nodded, digging your fingers in the muscle to try to relieve the pain, “yeah, guess that means i’ve been sitting here too long.”
he got up from his spot before coming up behind you, his hands brushing yours to the side as he dug his finger tips into the aching muscles. you let out a soft sigh, letting him rub away the soreness, “god, that feels good.”
he smiled softly, “‘s it helping?”
you nodded, “yeah, actually.”
he continued for a couple seconds before you turned around to look at him in your chair. you searched his eyes as you tried to read them, but you got too distracted by the color of them to fully assess. he smiled softly down at you, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“what?” he asked, a chuckle following after.
“do you think about that night?” your mouth was moving before your brain could filter it, “the night we made that agreement?”
he shrugged, sitting back down on the bed now, “i mean, kind of, but not all the time.”
“do you regret it?”
he furrowed his eyebrows at you, “why would i regret it?”
you looked down at your hands, “because i do,” his heart dropped, but you immediately snapped your head up, “not like that! not like that at all. god, that’s not the way it was supposed to sound coming out of my mouth.”
you took a deep breath, his facial features becoming unreadable, “then how did you mean it?”
“i mean, i regret giving us these stupid rules,” you said, “like the one where it’s supposed to be ‘no feelings involved’, that sort of thing.”
he sent you a questioning look, his heart skipping a beat with hope, hope that you’d feel the same way, “why?”
“because i may have broken that rule.”
he searched your eyes, immediately his heart jumping up to his throat.
“so did i,” he said.
you smiled at each other from your seats before he was pulling you towards him, mumbling a soft, ‘c’mere,”
you straddled his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck as one of his grabbed your waist while the other cupped your cheek. he leaned forward and kissed you softly, your hands finding the curls on the back of his neck.
he was the one to deepen the kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip before sucking and nibbling on it softly, knowing exactly how to make you weak. and it was working as you found yourself softly moaning into his mouth. he moved his hand from your hip to your ass, grabbing at it playfully causing you to giggle.
you broke the kiss, “i already knew how you felt, i just wanted to hear you say it.”
he sent you a look, silently asking how you would’ve known before his eyes widened. you laughed softly as he rolled his eyes.
“fucking ashley,” he mumbled against your lips.
no one could wipe the smile off his face even if they tried. you kissed him passionately, pushing back on his chest as he laid back onto the mattress and brought you with him. you hovered over him as you bent down, kissing him again. his hands found their place on your hips yet again, you absentmindedly moving against his hips gently.
he hummed contently against your lips, fingers moving under the hoodie you were wearing, a different one than the one you had on earlier, “is this mine?”
he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear as you bit back a smile, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “maybe..”
he laughed, shaking his head as he pulled at the bottom hem, helping you out of it, “you look better in it anyway.”
Packing it Up
~Packing it Up by Gracie Abrams~
Author's Note: Requested! OKAY so here is this giant one shot that I have been working on for a while. it's been hyped up bc its SO long but there is no smut so if 20k words and no smut is not your cup of tea so sorry. There is bestie Jack and bestie Trevor in this as well Summary: Luke falls for Jack's best friend, Y/N. Warnings: swearing, a mini novela Word Count: 22,225 Luke Hughes x fm!reader
There was a time in her life that she thought she found the love of her life. He was her college sweetheart. It was the typical fall in love at college orientation and stick around for a while because you are in love. At least she thought she was in love with him.
Her family never liked him, thought that Henry was full of himself and never treated her right. Her childhood best friend Jack hated him. There was never a moment in his life that he was nice to Henry. Henry always said that it was because Jack was in love with her but that was not the case.
Jack was never the type of guy to keep his feelings inside. If he had feelings for someone, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell them. Even if it was his childhood best friend, he would tell her no hesitation.
Jack never knew why he hated Henry, he just knew that something was not right with the guy. His suspicions ended up being correct when she came over to his apartment this past April.
Usually, she called. There was never a day where she would just show up at his door because who knows who would be inside of his apartment. But he was her best friend since they were six years old. But she couldn’t return to her apartment and she had nowhere to go. So, she ended up driving over an hour in late night traffic to his place.
Raising her hand up, she knocked on the door a few times before she wiped her hands across her cheek. After several moments passed, the door was pulled open and Luke was standing at the door.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning her features. Glancing up, she met his eye as her lips quivered.
“Hey Luke,” she let out as her voice cracked as she spoke, “Is Jack here?” her voice got quiet. Luke nodded as he stepped aside, allowing her to walk inside the apartment. Luke took a sudden breath as shut the door behind her. “Congrats on the call up by the way,” she mumbled as she wiped a tear that fell onto her cheek. He forced a small smile on his lips.
“Thank you,” he paused for a moment as he looked over at her. “I’m gonna go grab Jack,” he mumbled as he walked down the hall towards Jack’s room. She stood awkwardly beside the dining table waiting to either get kicked out or hug her best friend.
It only took a minute for Jack to emerge from the hallway. His eyes widened, his cheeks were flushed red and his hair was messy. His body was only covered with a pair of grey sweats as he walked towards her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around the center of his back.
A sob left her throat as she buried her face in his neck. His hand glided up and down her back soothingly.
A girl stormed past Luke, her hands were full of various clothing items as she practically flew out of the apartment. Luke stood awkwardly in the living room watching the pair.
The door slammed shut and Y/N pulled away from him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said through a sob.
“Don’t ever apologize,” he mumbled as he pulled her against his chest again, “What happened?” he asked softly.
“He’s been cheating on me with my roommate,” she mumbled against his chest. Jack shifted his gaze towards Luke, his entire body erupting in flames. “I can’t go home,” she let out.
Y/N pulled away from Jack, glancing towards Luke; to see him fuming too. Looking into his eyes, he took a deep breath as he shook his head. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
After that, he helped her move out of her apartment. Luke and Jack both were there to help move all of her things to her new studio apartment. At every moment possible, Jack would slip in a snide comment of how awful of a person her roommate was for doing what she did. Luke was just at Y/N’s side the entire time, quietly comforting her while they packed.
Her new apartment was an even split between their apartment in New Jersey and her school at NYU. It was a lot easier for her to travel between the three places and she was grateful.
It worked out that her school year ended a month after her disastrous break up. She went back home in Michigan with plans to spend the summer with the Hughes and posse. Y/N needed the distraction and the Hughes’ lakehouse was always the perfect place to do that.
Constant sun, bikinis, and endless drinking. It was her favorite time of year, it was her form of therapy. Even when she was having an amazing year, all she wanted was time on that boat soaking up all of the sun she could.
But this year, she needed that time away more than anything. For obvious reasons and for the other things that were going wrong with her life. Her new apartment had a leak in it and half of her wardrobe was destroyed and her finals didn’t go to plan because she was too overwhelmed by the fact her boyfriend was cheating on her.
The information fell into her lap that her roommate and Henry had been hooking up behind her back for months. It was as if they took her heart and smashed it to the ground repeatedly.
Now, the wallowing was something she was putting on the back burner. There was only one plan on her mind and that was letting loose. On the drive to the lakehouse, she informed Jack that she was not going to behave one bit and he gave her full permission to do whatever the hell she wanted.
Well, his friends and siblings were off limits, she couldn’t do them but she could do whatever the hell she wants. It was the usual rules of the lakehouse trips, let loose and have fun. But it often led to Y/N babysitting the five boys that were with her. She never really minded it but this year she told the boys it was her turn.
Given the circumstances, no one was opposed to the idea. Jack, Luke, and Y/N were the first to arrive at the house. Jack was at the grocery store getting an overwhelming amount of groceries for the house. Five professional hockey players under one roof, they were going to need a lot of it.
Y/N had already unpacked her suitcase in her room and had planted a spot on the giant couch in the center of the living room. She had a blanket covering her frame as she began to play the pilot episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A show none of the boys have attempted to watch, and she knew that at some point they would all get terribly invested.
Luke emerged from his bedroom on the second floor of the house, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. “Hey,” he let out as he jogged the five steps towards the couch. Lifting her gaze, she smiled towards the youngest Hughes.
Her family has been friends with his family since she could remember. She was the only kid that was actually close to the boys. All of her siblings were under the age of seven, so they usually looked up towards the Hughes boys as role models, more than anything.
“Hey Luke,” she said as she pulled her blanket up higher on her body. He sprailed out over majority of the couch. His head was laying on some of the leftover blanket beside her.
“What are you watching?” he asked while tilting his head back to meet her gaze. She looked down meeting his light eyes for a moment.
“Grey’s,” she said as she tilted her gaze back towards the screen. He scrunched his features together as he looked towards the screen.
“I can’t believe you like this stuff,” he mumbled before he let out a long drawn out breath. She chuckled as she looked back towards Luke; his eyes were already on her.
“You can’t say anything until you actually sit down and watch an episode,” she mumbled. He smirked before he sat up slightly; pulling some of the blanket over his lap.
“Fine, catch me up,” he mumbled as he pointed towards the TV slightly. She giggled before she began to explain the fifteen minutes of the show. “Wait, so that guys her boss?” Luke mumbled as he pointed towards Derek on the screen.
“Yep,” she said as she nodded dramatically. Luke shook his head as he blinked harshly.
After a few seconds, Jack busted through the front door carrying a lot of grocery bags. “Hey jackasses, a little help here,” Jack muttered as he walked past the giant couch towards the kitchen. Luke and Y/N met each other’s gaze for a second before they both jumped up from the couch to meet Jack in the kitchen.
While they were putting away groceries the other three boys arrived. They each dragged two giant suitcases inside, cheering loudly as they stepped inside. Y/N rested the boxes of pasta onto the counter as she excitedly walked out of the kitchen, the other Hughes boys followed quickly after her.
Y/N smiled widely once she saw the eldest Hughes brother. “Hey Y/N, how are you feeling?” Quinn asked as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Been better,” she said, a dry chuckle leaving her lips.
“Well that’s going to change because this is going to be the summer of your life, Y/N,” Trevor expressed as he held out his arms waiting for his hug. She smiled widely as she slipped away from Quinn towards Trevor.
“Planning on it,” she mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.
“That’s because we’re getting drunk off our asses every night,” Cole said with a teasing grin on his lips. She chuckled as she slipped away from Trevor towards Cole. He rocked her back and forth in a tight embrace.
“Definitely planning on that,” she mumbled as she slipped away from Cole’s embrace. “Jack bought a lot of stuff, let’s get started,” she teased as she started stumbling backwards towards the kitchen again.
She was laying in bed in silence. She was staring at her ceiling, replaying every moment of her relationship with Henry. Her mind was trying to find the exact moment he decided she wasn’t worthy of him or love. The moment he decided that she wasn’t what he wanted anymore.
Y/N’s probably laid there for several hours at this point, the silence starting to drive her crazy but she couldn’t find anything to fill the silence. Or overtake the sound of her own thoughts. She wiped her hands across her cheeks as she took a deep breath.
Her phone vibrated beside her on the bed. Her lips fell into a pout as she reluctantly pulled her phone towards her face. She read a text from Jack telling her to unlock her door.
A groan fell from her lips as she whipped the blanket off of her frame. She adjusted the loose shorts on her body as she brushed a few piece of nearly matted hair away from her face.
Pulling the door open, she was expecting to see Jack standing there but instead it was Luke. Her face scrunched together as she met his gaze.
“You are not the Hughes brother I was expecting,” she muttered as she stepped back.
Luke laughed as he forced himself inside. He held out a bag towards her, waiting for her to take it. She looked towards him suspiciously. He chuckled. “I was sent on a mission to retrieve you for the game tonight,” he let out.
Rolling her eyes, she took the bag and looked inside. From what she could tell it was a cute red long sleeve top. She closed the bag and placed it onto her counter. “I told Jack that I would watch the game from my apartment,” she mumbled as she suddenly felt very self conscious of how her appearance looks.
“Well, I don’t think this is optional. I was told to drag you out of the apartment no matter what,” Luke explained as he scanned her frame, “And I think you want to change unless you want to show up like a homeless man,” he said teasingly.
Her eyes widened as she smacked her hand against Luke’s arm, “That is so rude, Lukey,” she said while shaking her head, a shocked chuckle fell from her lips. She turned her gaze towards the mirror against the wall and she took a deep breath, “And so true, oh my god,” she muttered while taking a deep breath.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked quietly. He scanned her body, noting that she probably was definitely not doing okay.
Tilting her head to the side she stared towards the floor. She pursed her lips forward, “I think I could use a reason to leave my apartment,” she mumbled. Lifting her gaze, she met his gaze. He smiled widely. “How much time do I have?” she said.
Luke glanced down towards his watch, “Game starts in like three hours and it’ll probably take like forty minutes to get to the arena with traffic,”
She nodded, “Okay, that’s barely enough time but I’ll figure it out,” she mumbled as she jogged towards her bathroom. He pulled his head back as he stared towards the bathroom door.
“Barely enough time?” he mumbled as he shook his head slightly.
He heard the shower start and his gaze began to scan the studio apartment. It was a mess. Which was surprising because she was always the type of person to never have a spot of dirt in her apartment. He also had three hours to kill, so he walked towards the kitchen and began to clean her dishes.
She would either yell at him or be grateful, he didn’t know how she would react. But he was going to do it anyway. He connected his phone to her speaker and began to play his music.
It took another forty minutes before she reemerged from the bathroom, her body was only covered by her towel. She stopped short, tilting her head to the side as she watched Luke from a far. Her kitchen was completely spotless and he was vacuuming her living area. Her studio apartment was small so he was practically vacuuming the whole place.
He lifted his gaze, meeting her eye. He swallowed hard as he turned the vacuum off as he scanned her frame. “Is this okay? I’m sorry, I know how much you hate mess so I had time to kill and I thought that maybe–”
“No, no, it’s okay. Thank you, Luke. This actually means a lot,” she explained as she continued to look into his eyes. His cheeks flushed red while he smiled softly. “This is really sweet actually,” she mumbled as tears started to form in her eyes.
“Y/N?” he let out softly.
She shook her head, “This is really nice and I can’t cry so I’m going to take some clothes and then–um– go back to getting ready,” she mumbled as she wiped her hand across her eyes. She walked towards the bed which had the bag of the new shirt; one of the brothers’ got her.
He chuckled, “Okay,” he mumbled before he turned on the vacuum again.
It took another hour and a half before she was officially ready. Luke was able to clean the entire apartment and have time to sit on her bed and talk with her while she was applying her makeup.
“Hey Y/N,” he mumbled as he swung his legs back and forth in the air. She chuckled as she pulled the mascara wand away from her eye. She tilted her head to the side to meet Luke’s gaze. “Are you almost ready?” he sing-songed. She smiled softly towards him.
“Give me like five minutes,” she mumbled. He nodded as he pursed his lips forward. He glanced down towards his watch as he nodded. She shook her head slightly as she began to apply mascara to her eyelashes, “I’ll try and make it three,” she muttered. He smiled widely as he climbed off of the bed and began to pace back and forth.
“Okay good. Yeah, okay,” he mumbled as he began to walk around.
She kept her promise and they walked out of her apartment side by side. “The top looks good on you,” he mumbled as he reached over and pressed the elevator button. She smiled to herself as she kept her gaze towards the floor.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Come on,” he said with a wide grin, “I was thinking we could each get a popcorn and then we could–”
~~~
The other boys were drunk in the basement, laughing loudly as they continued a pool tournament. She never competed, usually she was the score keeper or Luke was the score keeper. But she was definitely too drunk to keep track of numbers.
Jack hit the eight ball into the exact pocket he needed to. He lifted his drunken gaze and smirked towards the other boys. Scanning the room, he noticed that she was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, meeting each of the boys' gaze. They all shrugged.
“I’ll find her,” Luke offered as he got out of the tournament quite early. Jack nodded encouragingly before he wandered towards the chalkboard to add points to his tally.
“Text me once you do,” Jack said as he drunkenly searched for Luke but he was already half up the steps.
Luke continued up the steps to see Y/N sprailed out on the large couch. Somehow taking most of it with all of the blankets and pillows surrounding her. He smiled to himself as he walked towards the couch. Pulling the blanket from her face, a drunken smile formed to her lips.
“Little Hughesy,” she mumbled as she saw him walking towards her. His face scrunched up in disgust as he shook his head. He flopped down beside her forcing a gasp from her lips. “You ruined my masterpiece,” she whined as she watched him climb under a completely different blanket and rest his head on the bright pink pillow. He didn’t know when they even got a bright pink pillow but it was comfy so he didn’t care.
“You called me Little Hughesy,” he whined before he shifted his gaze towards the TV screen to see Grey’s Anatomy on the screen. He shook his head before he further adjusted the pillow beneath his head. “Haven’t been called that since I was nine,” he countered as he lifted his head to see her already looking towards him.
“You will always be Little Hughesy,” she mumbled, looking into his eyes. “Even though you’re like huge.” He rolled his eyes while laughing as he continued to look over her features.
“Not huge,” he muttered before he looked towards the TV to see Meredith and Derek chatting in the stairway. “What’s happening?” he asked, referencing the show. Y/N’s lips fell into a pout as she looked back towards the screen.
“I will not explain everything you miss, you either sit and watch with me or don’t ask questions,” she explained while laughing.
“Well tell me who’s that guy?” he pointed towards the screen again.
“You ask me another question and I’ll call you Little Hughesy forever,” she drunkenly explained, unsure if the words left her lips in a cohesive sentence. He rolled his eyes as he smirked.
“I’m never going to get into this show,” Luke mumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to stare towards the TV. Absolutely getting interested in the show. It was definitely interesting but he would never let it slip that he actually enjoyed it.
For the next hour the pair layed together, quite far apart, as they watched the show together. At certain parts, she would explain a few details he missed when he didn’t watch the few scenes. She knew that he wanted to know, so she gave him the information anyway.
The other boys remained in the basement, half drunk and half asleep on the beanbags. The first night at the lakehouse they usually all get drunk off their ass. But most of the nights afterwards, they tend to have at least one person sober adjacent.
Which usually ended up being Y/N and she never really minded that before, but she wanted to be the one to let loose and not care. None of the boys objected and it was no problem for them.
She reached for the remote and she hit pause before she turned off the TV. Luke instantly sat up, “Hey, I was watching that,” he slurred out. Looking up towards him, she saw the blush across his cheeks. His hair was messily laid across his forehead.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced as she threw the three blankets away from her body. She stood up and began to pick up all of the blankets. A dramatic pout fell on his lips as he gripped the blanket that was covering his frame.
There was already two blankets in her arms as she tried to reach for the one covering Luke. He pulled it back, nearly forcing her to fall on top of him. A loud giggle fell from her lips as she stumbled backwards.
“Oh my god,” he let out while standing up. He kept the blanket in his hands as he fought the smirk forming to his lips. “Are you good?” he asked through laughter.
A gasp fell from her lips as she wrapped her entire frame with the three blankets now in her grasp, Luke was still holding onto the one he was using. “You nearly killed me!” she said through a wide grin.
“Well, let me at least help you as an apology,” he teased as he reached for one of the blankets she was carrying. Meeting his gaze, her smile softened as she continued to look into his eyes. He took the blanket from her. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in,” he teased.
“Oh shut up, Little Hughesy,” she let out dramatically as she lead the way down the hallway. He gasped dramatically as they turned into her room. She placed all of the blankets in her arms onto the queen sized bed. Luke dropped the blankets onto the bed, looking towards her. He pursed his lips forward, teasingly. “You are not tucking me in, go away,” she said as she shoved him backwards.
He gasped as he raised his hand up and held it protectively over his chest. “Here I was trying to be nice and you shove me away. Rude, very rude actually,” he teased as he crossed his arms over his chest. Y/N squinted her eyes slightly as she fought off a grin.
“Goodbye Luke,” she said as she pointed towards the door. He smirked as he stepped out of the room, waving towards her. He shut the door behind him and she spun around and stared towards the door while taking a deep breath. Slowly, she sat down and continued to stare towards the door.
~~~
The following morning, everyone was horribly hungover. Especially, the boys that remained in the basement were in a lot of pain. Their bodies were half on beanbags and half on the ground. Both Luke and Y/N were less damaged because they actually slept in their beds.
She was in the kitchen and making a full breakfast spread. She was already three homemade lattes deep and her hangover was practically gone. None of the boys have made an appearance beside stumbling up the stairs towards their rooms.
Completely ignoring the fact that she was cooking. Mainly because she never cooked for them before. So they assumed it was only for her. Despite the fact that she was scrambling two full carton of eggs. She also used two packages of bacon and sausage, It was very obvious that it probably wouldn’t be enough. But she was trying to be kind.
She heard steps coming down the steps and a loud dramatic yawn. She spun around to see Luke walking down the steps with only a pair of black sweats covering his frame. She trailed his body with her sleepy gaze while he wasn’t looking. His hands were rubbing his eyes as he finished the steps.
Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze back down towards the giant pan in front of her. “Hey,” he let out as his voice was very hoarse. He walked towards the fridge pulling it open to grab something to drink.
“There’s coffee,” she mumbled as she pointed towards the coffee pot with her spatula. He shook his head as he pulled out the orange juice container. Her face scrunched up as she stirred the eggs for the last time before turning it off and moving it to another stove top. “I forgot, sorry,” she muttered as she leaned down and opened the oven to check on the bacon and sausage.
“It’s cool,” he mumbled as he yawned one more time, “That’s a lot of food, you sharing?” he asked as he walked beside her, glancing all around the kitchen. She rolled her eyes playfully as she shifted her gaze towards Luke.
Meeting his eye for the first time since last night. Taking in a deep breath, she waved him back as she opened the stove again. A soft chuckle left his lips as he stepped back, drinking directly from the carton. He reopened the fridge and placed it back inside.
“Yes and what the hell are you doing?” she said and while chuckling. He shrugged as he stepped away from the oven as she placed the large cooking pan and placed it onto the stove top. “You cannot just drink from that and put it back,” she explained while shaking her head.
“Oh Y/N, you have no idea how often we do that,” he said, a dry chuckle falling from his lips. She clenched her jaw while rolling her eyes as she took a step back staring at all of the food she’s prepared. Suprisingly proud of herself. He took a deep breath, “I’ll buy you a new orange juice.”
She chuckled while tilting her head to the side to meet his gaze. He looked genuine in his offer. “No, it’s okay,” she let out as she took a deep breath. “Okay, make your plate and make sure to leave some for the rest of us,” she teased.
Luke barked out a laugh as he took a hold of a plate and instantly started adding to his plate, “Better tell them to hurry,” he joked as she slipped out of the kitchen towards Cole’s room which was on the same level as hers.
Softly, she knocked a handful of times. It took a few seconds for him to swing the door open. His head was sunken into his hoodie, “What?” he groaned out, his voice was practically gone.
“Breakfast,” she simply said before she walked down the hall towards Trevor’s room and alerted him of the same thing. He took a little more convincing to leave his room. She climbed up the steps towards Quinn and Jack’s rooms, not even sure if they were in them.
Firstly, she knocked on Jack’s before she took fast steps towards Quinn’s room. They both stepped out of their rooms at the same time, their faces looking like they had been hit by trucks. “Go get some breakfast before Luke eats it all. There’s also coffee,” she offered as she climbed down the steps to hear laughter falling from Luke’s lips. He was sitting at the dining table, already devouring the food.
“Okay, what’s the plan for tonight?” Luke asked as he leaned back watching his older brothers walk down the stairs towards the kitchen.
“Dude, I’m too fucking hungover to even think about tonight,” Cole interrupted before he shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, his face still deep in the hoodie.
“I’m down for anything,” Quinn mumbled as he added eggs to his plate.
“I was thinking we could go dancing,” Y/N said quietly as she walked behind Jack, waiting to get some of the food she made. All the boys shifted their gaze towards her, collectively nodding. Furrowing her eyebrows, she met each of their eyes before they all shyly looked down towards their plates.
“Why didn’t that take more arguing?” she questioned as Quinn walked towards the fridge. Watching him pull the orange juice out and drink it directly from the carton. Her mouth fell open as she shifted her gaze towards Luke who was fighting a grin forming to his lips.
“Because you got your heart broken so we’re going dancing if that’s what you want to do,” Jack expressed as he walked backwards towards the dining table. Taking in a deep breath, a small smile formed to her lips.
“Thanks guys,”
~~~
The pregame for their night out started an hour ago and she was the only one getting ready because the boys were waiting until last minute. Which never failed because they were used to planning everything perfectly for their pregame fits. A groan fell from her lips as she stared towards the two outfits in front of her.
One was a skin tight black dress that had a deep cut down the center of her body; practically revealing everything. She’s worn it to dance clubs before and has always felt so hot wearing it.
The other one was a corset top with a tight black mini skirt. An outfit she often wears to the parties in New York. She’s gotten in trouble a few times from Henry wearing it; too slutty in his eyes.
But she couldn’t decide which one to wear. She peaked her head out of the bedroom, “I need a man’s opinion!” she shouted. All of the boys shot up to their feet, no hesistation. Each of them holding beers in their hands as they continued down towards her room. Somehow all five of them were able to lay on her bed and stare towards her closet that had the outfits hanging up.
“I can’t decide which one will make more men dance with me tonight. So which one is hotter,” she questioned, cringing at her own question but the boys were surprisingly helpful. They shared glances as she watched each of them scan the outfits, then scan her frame.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea coursed through her body, regretting asking the question to begin with.
“Can you try them on?” Cole asked. Jack smacked his hand hard against Cole’s arm. “Ow! Damn,” he groaned out.
“Off fucking limits, you know that,” Jack scolded pointing towards him with his beer.
“I meant-like-how am I supposed to figure out what’s the hottest, if I can’t see them o-on her,” his voice got quieter as he spoke. The boys began to laugh.
A grin formed to her lips as she shook her head, “I’ve got Instagram posts in both of these outfits,” she let out and each of the boys pulled out their phones, searching her Instagram instantly. “Are you guys fucking serious?” she asked, laughing.
“Mini skirt,” all of the boys said in unison as they shifted their gaze towards her. It was awkward at how quick they all replied. Her eyes widened as she laughed; the boys began to laugh too.
“Okay, thank you. Now leave,” she said shoving each of them out of the door as they practically formed a single file line out of her room.
It took another hour for her to be done getting ready as well as the boys. They were all practically wearing matching outfits. Their bodies were covered in either a black button down or a black t-shirt. They were all wearing dark wash jeans that could practically be the same brand.
“Well if I have to be somewhat sober tonight at a night club then I’m gonna need some fucking-” Trevor stopped talking as Y/N walked out of the hallway. Her gaze was on her phone as she was walking towards the dining table to take another shot before they left. The tight black corset top showed off her chest perfectly and the mini skirt showed off her thighs in amazing fashion.
When Trevor stopped talking all of the boys lifted their gaze to see what he was looking at. They were all too stunned to speak.
She poured out a shot of tequila for herself as she spun around to see them all staring towards her. Her face scrunched up in disgust. They all instantly shifted their gazes elsewhere; besides Luke. He was still staring. He was more subtle than the rest of the boys as he was sitting on the couch that was practically angled in her direction.
It was impossible not to be attracted to her; literally so stunning everyone had to stop and admire her for a moment. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath as he watched her take the shot. She threw it back and didn’t even flinch at the taste. She placed the plastic shot glass back down onto the counter as she walked towards the group of guys. All of them now, slightly flustered.
“Anyone call the Uber yet?” she asked as her gaze met Luke’s. He quickly shifted his gaze down towards his lap. His legs were bouncing intensely. She took in a deep breath as she forced her gaze towards the floor.
“Should be here any second,” Jack said as he lifted his gaze and scanned her frame shamelessly. Watching Jack, she took a deep breath before she walked back towards the dining table. “Wha-what are you doing?” he questioned.
She poured out another shot, “I’m too sober for all of your eyes to be staring at me like this,” she mumbled before she took the shot again; this time cringing at the taste.
The ride to the club took only ten minutes and in those ten minutes, it felt like every ounce of liquor in her body overtook all of her thoughts. She was sandwiched between Luke and Trevor in the furthest backseats. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as her vision was starting to blurr in front of her.
Tilting her head up, she met Luke’s gaze. His eyes squinted slightly as he scanned her features. “You good?” Luke asked softly. Looking into his eye, she nodded too confidently. He chuckled as he scanned her features, his gaze lingering on her lips for a moment. “Are you drunk?” he asked barely above a whisper.
Pursing her lips forward, she nodded. He rolled his eyes playfully as the car was pulled into park outside of the club.
Cole and Jack slide the doors to the mini van open and climbed out of it. Y/N began to climb out of the car and it was quickly followed by Luke and Trevor. “You got your fake?” Trevor asked Luke barely above a whisper. He nodded. Luke stayed at the back of the line, avoiding being too close to his brothers.
Without turning back, Jack and Quinn head straight into the nightclub. Cole and Trevor were next and Trevor was definitely not looking forward to being practically sober. Y/N walked towards the entrance with her ID in her hand. The bouncer didn’t hesitate as he let both Luke and Y/N in no problem.
Luke smirked towards her as they continued into the club. She smiled towards him as she started walking deeper into the night club. She didn’t care if Luke was following her or not. All she wanted was to dance and drink more alcohol. Her hips instantly swayed back and forth to the beat of the loud chest vibrating music.
She was at the center of the dance floor, nearly bumping into every body possible. She found a spot, just for her and she danced to the music alone.
It’s been months since she’s felt this free. Sure, it was dancing at the center of a club, surrounded by hundreds of people feeling the same way. It was the first time that she's been single in her early twenties and she was okay with drawing all of the attention she could. God, she loved being the center of attention.
Except it didn’t last long for someone to take a hold of her waist and begin to dance with her. She didn’t mind, her whole intention for the night was to get close and sweaty with random strangers. His hands glided along her stomach as he grinded to the beat against her. She ran her hands across the top of his as she continued to grind with him to the beat.
She was with him for a while, several songs had past as he tried to move things along with her. Her body was running hot as her body was erupting in goosebumps with his slow slick movements along her frame.
His hands began to brush her hair off of her neck. Slowly, she spun around, allowing his hands to rest very low on her waist. Looking up, she saw a complete stranger. Her hands slipped from his shoulders as she began to walk away from him, sauntering away.
Her eyes connected with Trevor’s, he was sipping from a glass with a clear liquid. She knew it was water because once someone is assigned the sober job; they take it seriously. Clenching his jaw, he brougth the tiny red straw towards his lips as he took a small sip. He watched her wander towards the bartop.
She walked up towards the bar, smiling widely towards the bartender. His eyes widened as he leaned against the counter to hear better. “Tequila shot!” she shouted. He nodded as he leaned back and began to pour the liquid into a tiny glass.
“Starting a tab?” he asked and she nodded, handing him her card. He went over to the computer and started typing a few things. But she didn’t care as she took the small glass and tossed it back. Burning her throat on the way down, but it felt so good. The added courage gave her full permission to really let everything lose.
All she wanted was to feel close with someone. She wanted her heart to be jumping into her throat, her body vibrating from the music. She craved the feeling of a stranger’s lips against hers. Maybe even more.
There was an attempt to slide back into the center of the dance floor. Except her gaze landed on Cole and Jack dancing Jersey Shore style. Cocktails were in their hands as they were dancing back and forth. Jack’s eyes lit up as he saw her walking towards them.
“Y/N!” he shouted but it was barely audible as the music was so loud. She smiled widely as she let out a long drawn out breath as she began to dance again. The boys were laughing loudly.
It didn’t take long for another guy to slide behind her. Jack and Cole shared glances as they fought off a laugh rising in their throats. They began to dance away from them; knowing that Trevor was keeping an eye on her. The two boys continued to dance towards the bar, as their drinks were running low.
After a few minutes, she got bored as the man had no sense of rhythm so she continued deeper into the crowd.
Lifting her gaze, her eyes met Luke’s. He was watching her from afar. He slowly brought the cocktail to his lips, finishing the drink. He set it down on a random table as he tilted his head back. His eyes were still watching her. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip as he fought a smirk forming to his lips.
It could have been the seven shots of tequila in her body or the strobing blue and white lights in the club but her heart jumped into her throat. Pursing her lips forward, their eyes remained connected from across the night club for a moment. Shyly, she dipped her gaze towards the floor. The pounding music made her vision blurred.
Lifting her gaze, she looked towards his direction to find him gone. A frown formed to her lips. As the song changed she slipped deeper in the crowd in search of him.
It didn’t take long to find him because he was searching for her too. They bumped into one another, giggles falling from their lips. His hands rested onto her hips to stablize her. She looked up towards him meeting his gaze. He smirked as he scanned her features as he bit his bottom lip.
His hands glided towards the small of her back. Her hands landed on his chest as she smirked up towards him. His eyes lingered on her lips for a second but it was so dark she couldn’t tell.
He leaned down towards her ear, “Wanna dance?” he asked before he pulled his head back. She smiled as she slowly spun around, allowing her body to be pressed against his.
It was instant that their bodies moved in sync as he wrapped his arms losely around her stomach. His fingers delicately traced against the small section of exposed skin just above her hip. Her body erupted in heat as she pressed her head back against his chest as they were moving along to the beat of the song.
Her hands rested on top of his hands as she glided along his skin. Her breathing matched his as the beat of the music was pounding into her chest. He slowly took a hold of her hair and carefully pushed it off of her neck. Her hair fell off of her shoulder. The delicate touch against her neck sent shivers down her spin. His lips were hovering beneath her ear.
“Hey,” he whispered into her ear. She smiled widely as her heart began to pound hard against her chest.
Tilting her head back, her eyes shut as she allowed herself to melt into his arms fully. His fingertips graze along her exposed skin along her hips.
Something about being in his arms felt so right, his lips grazing the skin along her neck, the way his hands dragged along her skin, the way his body moved with hers. It was right, had to of been.
At least the seven shots of tequila told her so.
His lips brushed against her skin and she slowly spun around. His hands remained on her frame, they were loosely on her lowerback. She rested her hands onto his shoulders as she slowly glided her hands up his neck into his hair.
Leaning towards him, their noses bumped into one another as they were breathing heavily. A smirk formed to his lips. He pulled her tightly towards him, their chests were pressed against one another as she was doing everything in her power not to kiss him.
His hand slipped beneath her tight corset top; desperate to feel more of her skin. The small section between her mini skirt and her corset wasn’t enough for him.
Her fingers tugged his hair slightly as she tilted her head to side, nearly allowing him to kiss her. But he didn’t, his lips were hovering over hers.
“Luke,” she whispered into his ear, he tilted his head back to meet her gaze. Her fingers slipped from his hair, down his neck. A smirk formed to her lips as she slowly stepped back away from him. His hands tried to keep a hold against her body but she stepped away from him.
Maintaining eye contact, she took several steps back; winking towards him. He chuckled as he shook his head, while fighting a grin forming to his lips.
Her body instantly ran cold as she remerged into the crowd, her eyes met Trevor’s for a second before she continued towards the bar. Her breathing was still heavy while she missed his body pressed against hers.
She was sitting on her couch finishing up her flashcards for her hardest final exam. She was on the last page of her study guide and notes and only had eight flashcards to make left.
She began to hum along to the country song playing in the background as she continued to write the details onto her card. There was a loud knock against her door and she slowly climbed off of the couch.
Y/N walked towards the door and pulled it open to see Luke waiting for her with Chinease food takeout in his hand. She smiled softly as she stepped aside letting him in. “Can you take a break?” he asked softly as he held up the comically large paper bag.
“I think I can for a little bit,” she teased as she pointed towards the tiny dining table. He happily walked towards it and placed the bag onto the table.
“Okay, so I ordered practically everything, but it's like a buffet style so we can eat whatever we want,” he explained as he began to pull out each of the containers. She smiled softly as she sat down and looked towards him excitedly. “Hopefully this can make studying easier for you,”
“Thank you. Definitely in need of this,” she mumbled as she opened the first container, it smelled amazing. “Holy shit,” she mumbled as she held her hand towards Luke as he handed her the plastic set of silverware.
“Right?” he said excitedly as he placed the paper bag onto the floor before he opened the egg roll container and took one out. “How is studying going by the way?” he asked before he took a bite.
She tossed her head back as a groan fell from her lips. He chuckled with a mouthful. “I am this close to dropping out and becoming a stripper,” she let out, only slightly joking. His eyes widened as he stifled a laugh.
“I’d watch,” he muttered, causing her to kick him beneath the table as she laughed. “I mean you gotta support local–”
“Do not finish that sentence Luke Hughes,” she warned through a laugh.
“Fine, fine. How about I help you study instead?” he offered before he tossed the rest of the egg roll into his mouth. Y/N stared towards him suspiciously. “You realize I also went to college right? I’m not like Jack who barely attended high school,” he explained.
“You say that like you didn’t just drop out,” she explained teasingly.
“I didn’t drop out, I finished off the semester early. You know because the whole life long dream of playing in the NHL happened. No big deal or anything,”
“Right, completely forgot,” she said sarcastically. “Okay, but if you distract me, then you have to leave,”
“Got it,” he mumbled before he took a different container and opened it up.
For another hour, they both feasted on everything that Luke bought. It was definitely too much food but she was happy that she wouldn’t have to buy groceries for several days.
He waited on her bed as she finished making the last of her notecards. He was scrolling on his Twitter feed, reading different posts regarding the league. She took the large stack of cards and walked towards him and handed them over towards him. He stared blankly.
“Okay, you and I definitely study differently,” he muttered as he took the stack and began to flip them back and forth. “Um, am I reading the definition or term?”
“Definition first and then once I have it down, we’ll do term,” she explained. He nodded slowly while he kept staring at the stack. “Unless you actually don’t want to help me,” she teased.
“Nope, I’m ready whenever you are,” he muttered. She hummed as she sat down on the couch, looking towards him expectantly. He began to read the lengthy definition waiting for her to answer.
She answered incorrectly, confidently, and they both realized it was going to be a long night. “I hope you didn’t have plans tonight,” she mumbled as she met his eye from across the room. He smiled towards her.
“My calendar is wide open,” he said with a grin.
It had been several hours later. Luke didn’t complain once the entire time they studied together. He didn’t hesitate when she got the same term wrong for the fifteenth time. Simply, told her the correct answer and went on. At this point, she was pacing back and forth in her tiny apartment. It was her attempt of trying to speed up the mesmerization process.
He was watching her pace back and forth as he was laying on his stomach. He was kicking his feet back and forth slowly as she continued to pace. “Why don’t we take a break?” he asked as he placed the notecards in front of him. She shook her head as she stared towards her ceiling trying to think of the answer.
“Okay, we’re taking a break,” he mumbled.
“Luke,” she whined as she stopped short.
“You will not remember any of this if your brain is short circuiting,” He said while standing up from the bed. He took steps towards her, meeting her eye. “Let’s go take a walk,” he mumbled as he examined her tired features. She nodded as she let him take the lead.
“Maybe we’ll stop and get some hot chocolate or something,” he expressed as he took a hold of her jacket and held it out towards her. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ as she began to cover her frame with it.
“Okay,” she let out softly as she met his eye once more. He pulled the door open and they both began to walk out side by side.
At first they didn’t say anything as they walked out of the apartment and down the stairs. They would share awkward glances as they would squeeze around the tiny staircases and the small door that led to the lobby.
They stepped outside and it was surprisingly cold as they began to walk down the busy sidewalk. Luke shoved his hands into his pockets as he glanced towards her. She was so beautiful, he’s always recognized that.
“Are you doing okay with everything?” he asked softly.
“I just want to pass this last exam,” she said simply, very clearly thinking about something else. He continued to look over her features, nearly bumping into someone in the process.
“Anything else on your mind?” he asked barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath as she kept her gaze ahead.
“I just wish I was good enough,” she explained. His eyes widened as he continued to look over her side profile. She contemplated on explaining further, lifting her head up, she met Luke’s light eyes. His desperation to make her feel better is evident in his gaze. “I want to be good enough,” she mumbled as her lips quivered.
“You are more than enough, Y/N. He’s a fucking idiot for not thinking so, you have to know that,” he explained as he took a hold of her arm. He pulled her back, forcing her to face him. Her lips continued to quiver. “You are gorgeous and smart and kind and you make everyone laugh. I mean you should really do a comedy tour. You are beyond perfect,”
She scanned his features and took a shaky breath. Swallowing hard, she nodded. “You laugh at everything,” she said barely above a whisper. He chuckled softly while shaking his head. He pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
“I do not laugh at everything,” he let out softly as he ran his hand through her hair for a moment.
Taking in a deep breath, she shut her eyes. “Thank you, Lukey,” she mumbled as her entire body softened against his body.
~~~
It didn’t matter what time she got back or the amount of alcohol in her system; she was always the first one awake. Although, she was definitely violently hungover. She was sprailed out on the couch with three blankets covering her frame. She had a large Yeti cup of iced coffee that she was sipping dramatically to try and fix the headache she was dealing with.
Trevor entered the hallway, his head deep inside of a hoodie. He smirked once he saw her. “Didn’t think I’d see you awake until this afternoon,” he teased. She rolled her eyes, shutting them harshly as her entire head felt like it was going to fall off. “Have you eaten anything yet?” he questioned as he walked towards the kitchen.
“No,” she forced out as she took in a deep breath.
He nodded as he was quickly putting a bagel into the toaster. He glanced towards her for a second as he walked towards the living room.
“Do you remember last night?” he questioned.
Did she remember last night?
She hasn’t stopped thinking about last night. Her mind keeps replaying the moment she nearly kissed him. The feeling of her heart beating so hard she was scared it would explode in her chest. Her fingers in his hair, his hands touching her skin, the feeling felt so perfect and so right.
Yet it was so wrong. He was her best friend’s little brother. Jack’s little brother. Family has always been off limits and she was always off limits to him. Jack would lose every once of trust and love he had for her if she got with his little brother. So wrong but she can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Or to be that close to him every night. She needed him, that’s all she knew.
“Y/N, hello?” Trevor asked, nearly too loud for her liking. Her aspirin wasn’t working as fast as she would’ve hoped.
“Yeah, yeah, I remember it,” she mumbled, shyly.
“You remember drinking half a tequila bottle,” he asked as he continued walking towards the couch. He met her gaze, a teasing grin on his lips.
She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as she covered a blanket over her face, “Do you really think I would look like this if I didn’t?” she mumbled. A loud laugh fell from his lips as he plopped down beside her.
“So you remember dancing with Lukey then,” his voice got softer. She kept her face hidden as she felt her entire face scrunch up nervously. “Y/N?” he asked softly. Slowly, she pulled the blanket from her face meeting Trevor’s gaze. She hummed. “Girl, come on, everyone knows your off limits but Luke? That’s-”
“I know!” she let out.
“He’s Lukey!”
“I know!”
“Jack would be so mad,” Trevor let out barely above a whisper.
“ I know, Trev! I’m gonna talk to him,” she mumbled.
“Jack?” Trevor questioned as the toaster popped the bagels out. He shot up from the couch.
“N-no Luke, I’ll tell him that last night was a drunken mistake,” she mumbled as she took a deep breath.
“I’m just-” Trevor mumbled as he began to smear peanut butter onto the bread.
“I know,” she mumbled as she took another sip from her iced coffee. Trevor walked back towards her with a plate. He handed it towards her and she smiled widely. She sat up slightly as she took a hold of the plate and instantly began to bite into the bagel.
There were loud footsteps climbing down the steps, both Trevor and Y/N switched their gaze towards Luke who was climbing down the steps. His face was hidden by his hoodie as he walked directly towards the kitchen. He wasn’t even looking towards the couch, he was in desperate need of food.
Her gaze lingered on him. Her heart jumping into her throat as she felt her breathing stagger slightly. Her eyes were stuck on him. He was intoxicating and she was in trouble as she watched him from a far.
Trevor watched her watch him, a smirk forming to his lips before he stood up from the bed. “Try not to throw that up, I’m going to go shower,” Trevor said loudly as he wandered back down the hall towards his bedroom.
A chuckle fell from her lips before she bit into the bagel again. Luke wandered towards the living room, biting into a uncooked bagel of his own. He smiled softly once he saw her.
“Good morning,” he mumbled through a mouthful. Squinting her eyes slightly, she stared towards him suspiciously. “Are we going to talk about it?” he asked bluntly after swallowing his food. Her eyes widened as she shook her head. He nodded, “Okay,” he said simply before he walked back towards the stairs.
“Wait, that’s it?” she questioned as she sat up slightly, placing her food onto the coffee table. He spun on his heel to meet her gaze. “You’re not going to try harder to talk about it?”
He chuckled. “Uh no-you’re the one that wanted to dance with me so, if you don’t-”
“Um, if I remember correctly you’re the one that asked,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“You were the one that was making eyes at me-”
“Eyes at you!” she let out appalled. He chuckled as he took a step towards her. “Now that is ridiculous,” she teased. All he did was purse his lips forward and nod. “It was a drunken dance that’s all,” she explained.
He smirked as he nodded, “Yeah,” he let out simply. He walked around the couch and slowly sat down beside her. He met her gaze, “Whatever you say,” he mumbled.
“What does that mean?” she questioned, feeling a grin form to her lips.
“I mean you did almost kiss me, but sure, just a drunken dance,” he let out, a smirk on his lips.
“I did not!” she let out.
“Oh sure, yeah. Definitely not,” he said tilting his head to the side, his eyes squinting slightly. She rolled her eyes playfully before she reached towards the remote. Her aspirin was finally starting to work.
“I did not try to kiss you,” she said quietly. He shook his head before he stole one of her blankets and draped it over his lap over himself.
“I didn’t,” she mumbled as she tilted her head to the side, meeting his eye once again. Her gaze lowered towards his lips for a second.
“Are you going to put on Grey’s or not?” he asked softly.
All she could muster up was a nod. He smirked before he was able to bite into his bagel. She rolled her eyes playfully as she reached towards her plate.
~~~
Once all of their hangovers were done they decided to spend the rest of the afternoon on the boat. Quinn was already on the boat, preparing it. Jack and Luke were setting up the coolers of alcohol while they were waiting for the others to come outside.
Y/N took a hold of her sunglasses and her Kindle as she started walking outside. She stopped short as she watched Jack shove Luke into the lake. She could hear Quinn and Jack’s laughter from the backdoor of the house.
It didn’t take long for him to climb back into the boat, his body completely soaking wet. His hair dripping as it was laid across his forehead.
Her heart began to beat hard against her chest as her gaze lingered on his frame, watching the water roll off of his body. His swimtrunks were tight against him. He was tugging at the bottoms, the v-line on his body became more evident as he was adjusting it. He looked good and she was not being shy by the she was staring at him.
Subconsciously thankful for the fact that her sunglasses hid her gaze.
“Are you sure it was a drunken mistake?” Trevor asked as he stood beside her. Suddenly, she shifted her gaze towards him. She swallowed hard as she subconsciously shifted her gaze towards Luke again.
“It was,” she mumbled as she began to walk towards the dock.
“Are you sure because you are staring at him like he’s a piece of meat and you’re starving,” Trevor whispered as he followed after her. She barked out a laugh as she glanced towards Trevor.
“I am not,” she muttered as she walked towards the dock, meeting Jack’s gaze. Her soft smile fading as guilt overwhelmed her features. Jack frowned slightly as he walked towards her, holding out his hand to help her into the boat. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything as he walked towards Quinn at the head of the boat.
She sat down in her usually spot and instantly tilting her head back. A sigh fell from her lips as she felt the heat radiate over her skin.
Cole started jogging towards the dock, “Hurry up asshole!” Quinn shouted through a laugh. He was shirtless as he was carrying a beer and a towel.
“You guys all left me!” Cole shouted as he reached the boat. He was able to climb into the boat no problem before he sat down beside Luke. Shimming as he tossed the towel beside him before he brought the beer towards his lips.
“Okay, are we ready?” Quinn asked and everyone cheered slightly. He chuckled as he started driving out into the lake. Luke took a hold of the speaker and started playing music loudly from it. He was leaning towards Trevor and Cole, talking about something.
Y/N was sitting with her Kindle in her hands, she was trying to find something to read. Jack sat down beside her, practically against her. She lifted her gaze, meeting his eye through her sunglasses.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked as he tapped his hand against her thigh before he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Better,” she mumbled.
He nodded, “Good, I’m glad,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, “What are you reading?” he asked. She chuckled as she tilted her head against his shoulder. Her gaze shifted towards Luke who was looking towards her already. Once their eyes connected, or he assumed they did through her sunglasses, he shifted his gaze towards his lap.
“I don’t know yet,” she said softly. Her gaze still watching him as he leaned back onto his arms. His abs on fully display. Her mouth nearly fell open but she stopped herself as she looked back down towards her Kindle.
“Want a beer?” Jack asked as he leaned forward towards the cooler. She shook her head as she selected a romance novel and began to load it up.
It was a couple hours later and the sun was starting to go down, creating a beautiful sunset over the water. She was no longer reading, only got around fifty pages done. But now she was sprailed out on the back of the boat, laying on her stomach. She was staring towards the sunset. Luke climbed beside her, laying down on his stomach.
Tilting her head to the side, she met his eye. “Hey,” she mumbled. He smiled softly before he interlocked his fingers as he shifted his gaze towards the sunset. Her eyes kept admiring his side profile. His lips were curled upward slightly as he was looking over the pink and orange hues of the sky.
“I always forget how pretty the sunset is out here,” she mumbled as she forced her gaze towards the sky.
He hummed as he shifted his gaze towards her, scanning her features. “It is isn’t it?” he muttered as he looked at her side profile for a moment before he shifted his gaze back towards the sunset. “I’m glad you came with us,” he let out quietly.
“I know, I would’ve been so mad at myself if I stayed in Jersey,” she mumbled before she looked back towards him. Their eyes met and her body erupted in goosebumps. His blue eyes were soft and sleepy. “Couldn’t let Henry win again,”
Luke’s mouth fell open as he shook his head. “He hasn’t won a damn thing,”
“I mean he did shatter my heart,” she looked down towards her hands, twisting the ring on her finger.
“Shattering your heart is him losing. Why would anyone want to do that?” he said barely above a whisper. Lifting her gaze up, she met his eye; a soft smile formed onto her lips.
“I don’t know,” she muttered, a pout forming to her lips.
“He lost you and you get to be hot on a lake all summer. I’d say you’re winning,” he mumbled as leaned towards her. She giggled as she leaned towards him slightly too.
“Thanks Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smirked as he nodded. He tilted his head to look behind him to see the rest of the guys hanging in a circle and laughing; completely ignoring them. “You really think I’m hot?” she asked shyly.
His mouth fell open as a scoff fell from his lips, his eyes trailed her frame. “Are you fucking joking?” he let out while laughing. “Have you looked at yourself recently? I mean you’re literally the definition of beautiful,” his gaze dipped towards her lips for a second before he forced his gaze towards the sunset.
The music was so loud that their conversation was between them and only them. Except Trevor couldn’t help but notice them. He was smiling softly as he watched them meet each others gaze.
She pressed her lips together as she tried not to laugh. She tilted her head to the side as she fully met his gaze. A soft smile formed onto her lips, “I really needed to hear that,” she mumbled.
“Of course,” he let out as his gaze dipped towards the grin on her lips.
Cole smacked his hand against Trevor’s arm, pointing towards the pair. A snicker fell from Trevor’s lips as he forced his gaze elsewhere. Jack and Quinn were clueless.
~~~
The next few days were filled with the same day drinking and relaxing on the boat. Their evenings were filled with laying in the living room watching Grey’s Anatomy. The boys were all reluctantly watching it except Luke. He was equally interested especially after Addison was introduced.
Tonight was no different, except they were all in the basement hosting another pool tournament. She was sitting on a table as she was adding up the scores as she stared towards the giant chalkboard beside her.
“Quinn’s back in the lead,” she said as she smiled widely.
“Let’s fucking go!” he shouted as he raised his beer up in the air. Luke let out a loud groan as he walked towards Y/N and the chalkboard.
“No way, add it up again!” he begged as he walked up beside her, looking towards the scores. Luke delicately rested his hand on the table directly next to her thigh. Her gaze dropped down towards his hand, a mere inch from her skin. Quickly, she forced her gaze back up towards the chalkboard.
“I added it three times,” she whined out. He pouted his lips as he looked towards her, meeting her eye.
“Add it differently,” he mumbled, his gaze lowering to her lips.
“Luke,” she let out through a chuckle.
“Sorry Lukey, maybe next round,” Quinn said smuggly as he began to reset the pool table. Luke continued to scan her features for a few seconds before he stepped back.
“I don’t wanna play another round. Cole, wanna help me make a drink?” He looked towards Cole. Without hesitation Cole stood up and followed after Luke towards the stairs.
“Me neither, I wanna relish in this victory for the night,” Quinn said as he took another sip of his beer.
“‘Course you do, asshole,” Jack muttered as the both of the older Hughes boys plopped down on some beanbags. They all chuckled as Trevor started heading towards the stairs.
“Y/N, wanna a drink?” Trevor asked as he began to slowly climb up the stairs. She nodded as she hopped off of the table and headed for the stairs.
“I’ll come with you,” she mumbled as she skipped towards the steps.
Jack watched suspiciously as he shifted his gaze towards Quinn for a second. Quinn simply shrugged as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
Cole and Luke were still in the kitchen once both Y/N and Trevor reached the top of the stairs.
“Do you really think that she–” Luke stopped talking instantly as he saw Y/N and Trevor side by side. A frown formed to his lips for a second before he quickly brought his cocktail to his lips. Luke shifted his gaze towards the floor.
“Want a mixed drink or a beer?” Trevor asked as he walked deeper into the kitchen.
“Any seltzers, Trev?” she asked softly.
“White Claw?” he asked as pulled the fridge open. She hummed as he tossed her the drink.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” Luke mumbled before he chugged his drink and placed it into the sink. He met Y/N’s gaze before he climbed up the stairs towards his bedroom. Cole frowned slightly as he watched the youngest Hughes walk away.
Cole quickly followed after him, “Wait–” he called out as he jogged up the stairs.
She popped open the drink as Trevor pulled a beer out for himself. “Can I talk to you, Trev?” she asked softly. He nodded as he pointed towards the couch. They both sat down quite far apart but they both covered their laps in blankets. “I think you might be right,” she mumbled.
“About Lukey?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, “But I can’t tell if my feelings are because I’m still trying to get over Henry or if it’s because I’m ready to move on,” she mumbled.
“Well, if you’re even questioning it, I’m sure you’re ready to start something new,” Trevor expressed, glancing behind him.
“Jack would kill me,” she let out barely above a whisper, “I mean, it’s his little brother.”
“Yeah but it’s not like he’s a kid, you’re barely two years older than him,” Trevor explained. “I think Jack would be pissed at first but get over it if it means you two are happy,” Trevor brought his beer towards his lips.
She stared down towards the can in her hand, she began bending the tab back and forth. “But it’s Lukey,” she muttered as she met Trevor’s gaze. “Little Hughesy,”
“I don’t know when he became something other than Lukey, but I am worried this is gonna fuck everything up,” she mumbled before she pulled her knees towards her chest.
“He stopped being Lukey the second he got taller than Quinn,” he let out jokingly. “And got abs, which you seem to enjoy,”
“Trevor,” she scolded while laughing.
He took a deep breath, “If your worried you’ll fuck everything up, just hang out with him more and see if your feelings are real. You know push boundaries a little,”
“Push the boundaries, okay,” she muttered as she nodded slightly.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket as she pulled it out instantly.
Luke: Wanna watch Grey’s in my room in ten?
Her heart began to beat heavily against her chest as she read the message. A small smile formed to her lips as she whipped her phone around to show Trevor. He smirked as he nodded.
“Nice,” he said while chuckling.
“What does this mean?” she asked, her eyes widening slightly.
“I think it means he’s wondering if you want to go watch Grey’s Anatomy in his room in ten minutes,” Trevor said sarcastically.
She leaned towards him, shoving him before she stood up from the couch. “You’re such a dick, Trev,” she said as she walked away from him while laughing. He tossed his head back and laughed. She walked towards the kitchen as she sent back a reply to Luke saying she’ll be there soon.
He sent back a smiley face. Lifting her gaze, she saw a glimpse of Cole and Trevor both heading down towards the basement. She knew that Trevor would find an excuse as to why neither of them were back in the basement.
She finished her drink in a few minutes before she headed towards the stairs towards his room, her heart slamming against her chest hard. She awkwardly raised her hand up and knocked. After a few seconds, Luke pulled the door open a wide grin on his lips.
“Come on, I need to find out if Denny lives,” he said as he waved his hand towards her. She chuckled as she stepped inside of his surprisingly clean room. He shut the door behind her, twisting the lock in the process.
Without hesistation, she laid down on his bed, climbing under the blanket. He took a fast step towards her, leaping over her to lay on the other side of her. He plopped down beside her climbing under the covers.
He shifted his gaze towards her, running his fingers through his hair. Tilting her head to the side, she met his eye. She fought the smile forming to her lips.
“Your face better not reveal anything, no smirk, no smile. No tears, okay?” he asked teasingly. Her lips curled upward in a grin. “I said no smile, it’s a nice smile, but I said no smile,” he let out.
Her mouth gaped open slightly before she forced her gaze towards the TV screen in front of them. “Just get ready,” she muttered.
“No talking,” he let out while laughing, she shifted her head to the side to meet his eye again.
“No talking?”
“No talking if you’re gonna say stuff like that,” he said as he reached his hand over to take a hold of the TV remote. “No spoilers,” he said pointing a finger towards her. Her mouth fell open as she pushed his finger away. A giggle falling from her lips. “No spoilers,” he let out softer as his gaze lingered onto her lips.
“Got it,” she mumbled as she felt her cheeks begin to blush as her skin ran hot. He inched towards her, staring at her lips. Suddenly, she felt herself leaning towards him. Wanting to kiss him, craving his lips. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
After a few seconds, she pulled back. “Luke,” she mumbled.
“Yeah?” he let out softly as he leaned away too.
“We can’t,” she mumbled. He clenched his jaw as his head was still tilted to the side, scanning her features.
“Can’t what?” he asked softly.
“You’re looking at me,” she mumbled, “You can’t look at me.”
“I can’t look at you?” he asked softly, his gaze lowered towards her lips again. His gaze flickered up towards her eyes again and she shook her head slightly.
“Stop looking at me like that,”
“Why?” he muttered as he inched towards her again. Instead of pulling away, she found herself staring at his lips again. “Because of Jack?” he mumbled.
It took a few seconds to reply, “Yes,” she said as she shook her head again. Luke took a deep breath as he scanned her features one more time before he forced his gaze towards the TV. He began to pull up Netflix. “Luke,” she mumbled.
“Let’s just watch the show,” he mumbled as he tilted his head back against the headboard. Taking in a deep breath she forced her gaze towards the screen.
“Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper. He tilted his head to the side, meeting her eye again. “I’m sorry,”
He reached his hand over and delicately rested it against her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked deeply into his eyes. He ran his thumb across her cheek as she leaned into his hand.
Y/N wanted nothing more than to lean into him and kiss him desperately. Feel his lips on hers and feel his hands roam her body. It was all that she has wanted over the last few weeks. Maybe months.
Still, she couldn’t tell if it was mere attraction or if she was falling for him. She made a promise to Jack and she needed to keep that promise. Off limits.
“I’m gonna cry a lot this episode aren’t I?” he mumbled before he reluctantly pulled his hand back to his side.
A soft chuckle fell from her lips as she looked back towards the screen as he did the same. “I’m not allowed to talk, remember? That was your rule,” she teased.
“Right, right. My rule,”
~~~
A week later, Luke and Y/N were getting closer and closer to reaching something. Her feelings for him were definitely more and more prominent. It finally was hitting her that her feelings weren’t mere attraction but she was falling for him. She was sure that Jack could tell. She knew that Trevor was doing his best to keep it a secret.
She was standing in the kitchen, making dinner for all of the boys. They were all hanging on the boat despite it being docked. She peeked out of the window as she stirred the stirfry in the giant pan. She saw Luke walking up towards the house. Her lips curled upward slightly as she waited for him.
He stepped inside, “I was sent to see when dinner will be done,” he let out as he leaned against the wall, leaning his head against it. She smiled towards him as she took in a sharp breath.
“Few minutes,” she mumbled. He nodded as he pursed his lips forward, “Anything else?” she asked softly. He smirked as he shook his head slowly. “You sure?”
He took another step towards her, his gaze lingering on her frame. Her body was only covered by the lime green bikini and the white coverall.
“Are you drunk?” she asked as she admired the bright red blush on his cheeks. He raised his hand up and shook it side to side. Tilting her head to the side, she fought the grin forming to her lips. “Go before you do something you’ll regret,” she muttered as she pushed him back slightly.
He chuckled as he took in a deep breath. He reluctantly stepped away, “That’s an amazing color on you,” he mumbled.
“Luke,” she sing-songed.
“Yeah, yeah I know,” he mumbled before he stepped back outside and jogged down the steps towards the boat. Every so often, he would glance behind him towards the house.
A small pout fell to her lips as she continued making the dinner. Taking in a deep breath, her heart slowly started to slow down with him gone.
It took another few minutes before she turned the stove off. She walked towards the door, pushing it open as she stepped out. “Dinner’s done,” she called out before she instantly went back into the house to make her own plate.
The boys instantly started jumping off of the boat and jogging towards the house. Luke was the last one to enter the house. All of the boys were distracted by getting their plates and finding a place to sit and eat. Luke entered the house, his gaze lingering on her frame. He pursed his lips forward as he took steps towards the stove to make his own plate.
“We haven’t been to the club in like a week, should we go tonight?” Trevor asked before he shoved some food into his mouth. Luke whipped his head around to look towards Y/N. She was already looking in his direction. Trevor glanced towards Y/N for a second before he shifted his gaze towards Cole.
“I mean, I’m down to be sober if you guys want to go,” Cole offered quickly. Luke shifted his gaze towards Cole and nodded slightly.
“I’m gonna need a nap before we go to any–” Jack said before he began mimicking EDM music. Y/N laughed before she brought her seltzer towards her lips. “But yeah, I’m down,” he agreed.
It took several more hours before any of them were ready to head out. The guys were once again all waiting for her to be ready. She was tipsy as she was finishing getting ready. She was wearing the skin tight dress she didn’t wear last time they went out. She stood in front of the mirror, making sure that everything would stay in place.
Once she was satisfied with how the outfit looked she left her room, chugging the remainder of her drink. Entering the living room, the boys fell silent as they were all admiring her frame.
“What did I say about staring?” she said simply as she walked towards the tequila bottle on the dining table. A few of the guys cleared their throats and began their conversation once again.
On the other hand, Luke was still admiring her frame. The dress fit her tightly to the point that every single curve of her body was amplified. He leaned forward as he dragged his hand across from his nose as he continued to stare towards her.
Jack was laughing at something Cole said when he shifted his gaze towards his younger brother. His smile faded slightly as he saw the way Luke was admiring Y/N from a far. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw Luke smile softly as Y/N spun around. Jack clenched his jaw before he brought his beer towards his lips, finishing the drink in only a few sips.
He watched as Luke and Y/N eyes connected. The smile on her lips was small but it looked like it was reserved for Luke.
“Uber’s almost here,” he muttered as he stood up from the couch and headed towards the dining table where Y/N was standing. Once he reached the table, he took a hold of the vodka bottle and brought it towards his lips. He drank directly from the bottle for a few seconds before he placed it back down.
Everyone looked towards him in horror. “Was thirsty,” he forced out, sounding like fire was running up and down his throat. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to see the Uber was at the house. “Gotta go,” he muttered, still fighting from the alcohol. Everyone nodded awkwardly as they stood up and began to head towards the door towards the Uber.
“Are you okay?” she asked him as the rest of the guys left the house.
“Are you fucking Luke?” he asked harshly, looking deeply into her eyes.
“What?” the word fell out barely above a whisper.
“Are you fucking my little brother?” he asked as he got closer to her face. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.
“No,” she mumbled as she looked into his eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, I’m not blind. I see you guys disappear all of the time,” he said as he continued to scan her features, for the truth.
“We’re just hanging out, Jack, I swear,” she let out as she stepped away from him. He clenched his jaw as he tilted it to the side.
“We used to do that, what happened to that?” he questioned. She dryly chuckled as she shook her head.
“Are you seriously jealous of Luke?” she asked somewhat harshly. His mouth fell open for a second before he clamped it shut.
“I’m not jealous of Luke,” he said simply.
“Then why won’t you believe me that we’re just hanging out?” she threw her hands to the side. At first Jack didn’t reply. He stared towards her, frowning slightly. “Jack!?”
“Because have you seen the way he looks at you?!” he yelled out. “I mean even all the way back to April, this kid is in love with you and I don’t need you breaking his heart!” he explained loudly.
Pulling her head back, she blinked slowly as she took in a shaky breath. Her gaze lowered towards the floor. Pressing her lips together, she nodded. “You’re my best friend Jack. I won’t let anything change that,” she muttered before she tilted her head back, blinking back the sudden wave of tears hitting her eyes.
“Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper.
“They’re waiting on us,” she said as she pulled the door opened and stormed out. She stomped down the steps as she walked towards the Uber seeing Trevor sitting in the front passenger seat.
She walked up towards the door, pulling it open.
“Woah, occupied,” he said while raising his hands up.
“Get out, I’m not sitting next to Jack,” she said simply. Jack started walking down the steps slowly.
“Sit next to–”
“Trev,” she let out simply as she met his eye. It took him a second before he understood what was happening. He nodded as he unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed out of the seat. Delicately resting his hand on the center of her back for a moment before she climbed into the passenger seat. Trevor opened the back door, shrugging slightly as he climbed over Luke towards the backseat.
Jack was quick to climb over Luke as well as sit beside Trevor and Quinn in the furthest backseat. Luke tilted his head back, meeting Jack’s gaze, mouthing, “Are you guys okay?”
Jack shook his head as he tilted his head back against the headrest. The Uber took off towards the club, awkwardly turning the music up in the process. The drive didn’t take long and they were quick to all climb out. Y/N didn’t wait for anyone before she started heading directly towards the entrance. It looked as though flames were practically coming out of her body as she stormed away.
Jack stood outside of the car staring towards her walk into the club. “What did you do to piss her off?” Quinn asked as he smacked his hand against Jack’s upper back. Jack glanced towards Luke; who was walking towards the club entrance with Cole beside him. Trevor was awkwardly glancing between Luke and Jack.
“I accused her of leading Lukey on,” he said while meeting Quinn’s gaze. Jack watched Quinn’s eyes go wide.
“What, like, Luke has feelings for her or something?” Quinn questioned. Trevor’s eyes widened as he swallowed hard. Watching Luke and Cole enter the club no problem.
“More like I think she has feelings for him and I basically called her a slut, so that’s why she’s–” he stopped talking as he tossed his hands to the side.
“You called her a slut?” Quinn asked flabbergasted.
“No! No, I told her that I don’t want to see Luke’s heart get broken,” he mumbled as the three of them all started walking towards the entrance to the club.
“Like that’s the only option if they get together? They could be happy, you know,” Trevor expressed as he pulled out his ID from his wallet. Ever since the first night at the club, he’s been rooting for them like crazy.
“They’re not getting together,” Jack said as he flashed his ID towards the bouncer. He nodded allowing the guys to enter the club.
“Why do you care so much?” Trevor asked as he began walking backwards to meet Jack’s gaze.
“Because I don’t want to lose my best friend. If they break up, I’m choosing my little brother,” he explained as they started walking deeper into the club. It was starting to get too loud to talk without shouting into each others ears. Jack shifted his gaze to see both Luke and Y/N standing at the bar waiting for their drinks.
“Are you okay?” Luke asked as he leaned towards her, his lips brushing against her ear. He pulled back, trying to meet her eye but her gaze remained ahead. His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned towards her to ask it again; instead their shots were placed in front of them.
Without hesitation, she brought the shot of tequila to her lips and threw it back. She placed the glass upside down. Luke’s eyes widened slightly before he took the small glass and took the shot himself. He swallowed it with much difficulty, his entire body reacting as he placed the glass upside down.
She took a hold of his shirt and began dragging him into the club. Luke smirked as he followed along. But instead of stopping at the center of the dance floor she kept going. She kept dragging him, shoving through several groups of people in the process. Luke was shouting, asking where they were going but she was determined to take him somewhere private.
They reached a secluded hallway, probably for the bathrooms. The music was still loud but was much quieter in that section. She pushed him against the wall before she crossed her arms over her chest.
“You have to stop!” she shouted, finally meeting his gaze. He pulled his head back, frowning. “We can’t do this anymore,” she let out as she continued to scan his features.
“We’re not doing anything!” he let out while shaking his head. His eyes softened.
“The flirting! The looking at me! It has to stop, okay we can’t do this!” she said as she dropped her gaze towards the floor.
“Why?” he let out, taking a hold of her arm delicately.
“Because Jack knows and we haven’t even done anything yet! So we have to stop!”
He shook his head as he clenched his jaw repeatedly. “Why does Jack get more say than me?”
Her mouth opened and shut as her heart was pounding so hard against her chest, it was nearly louder than the music. She looked deeply into his blue eyes. The blue light from the club was over his skin, making his blue eyes look dark.
“He’s my best friend, okay? Jack, Quinn, Trev, Cole, you.” her voice faded slightly as she dropped her gaze towards his chest, “You guys are all I have okay?! So if us getting involved makes me lose all of that, then I can’t. I can’t do that,” she said while holding back her tears that were trying to form in her eyes.
He nodded as he admired her features. Her eyes were teary as she was staring towards his chest, the top two buttons were unbutton, revealing his collar bones and some of his chest muscles. She was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. He’s thought that his whole life. No one ever compared to her and no one will ever compare because she was everything.
He loved the way her lips would curl up slightly any time he said something dumb. Or the way she danced slightly while cooking; even if there was no music. Or the way her love language was touch, even as kids. She was always the first to initiate a hug or rest her head onto his shoulder.
She was always the center of attention, loved having eyes on her. But right now, all he’s wanted was to be the only guy that gets to look at her the way he is now. Like she is all that matters.
They were close but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, unsure if she could stop herself if she did.
“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what it’s like to kiss me,” he said softly.
Lifting her gaze up, she met his eye. “Do you really think that I would be doing this if I could stop thinking about it? We can’t,” she said as she forced herself back. Their eyes were still connected before she began to walk away from him.
“Y/N,” he called out.
She spun around, meeting his eye again, “Luke, we can’t,” she said while shaking her head.
He reached towards her, taking a hold of her waist as he pushed her against the wall. Her eyes widened slightly as she rested her hands onto his chest for stability. “Luke,” she mumbled.
“If you can’t stop thinking about it, then kiss me,” he whispered as he leaned down against her ear. He pulled back, taking a delicately hold of her chin. Scanning her features, his gaze admiring her lips.
“Luke,”
“If you can’t stop, then kiss me,” he whispered again as he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. Her breathing quickened as she swallowed hard. Her hands were still pressed against her chest.
He was so close that if she breathed differently, their lips would connect. She was desperate to feel his lips against hers. Her hands gripped his shirt for a moment as she continued to look into his eyes.
“Kiss me,” he mumbled. Her gaze flickered back down towards his lips.
After another second, she reached up and took a hold of his cheeks. Pulling him towards her, their lips connected instantly and desperately. His hands glided along her hips and rested on her lower back.
He pulled her tightly against his body. Her hands glided from his cheeks towards the base of his neck. Her entire body erupted in flames. It was as if every ounce of tension in her body faded as she continued to kiss him.
Her fingers began to glid through his hair as a breathy moan fell from her lips. Everything was perfect, everything was right in this moment; his body pressed against hers and their lips connected.
There was a passing second that she thought that this would be okay. Jack would get over it and her and Luke could be happy together. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing else other than Luke.
Slowly, she pulled away. Her fingers tugged at the ends of his hair. His nose bumped against hers, as he leaned towards her desperate for her lips again. Their lips connected again as a moan fell from her lips.
His hands lowered on her frame gliding along the curve of her ass as he reached for her thighs. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands were gripping her thighs tightly.
Several minutes past as they were in their own little world, not caring who could be watching. All she needed was him, that’s all she knew.
“Luke,” she mumbled against his lips. He hummed against her lips, sending a vibration to course through her body. Tilting her head back, he leaned towards her desperate for her lips again. “Wait-” she said through a giggle. He smirked as he reluctantly tilted his head back. He tilted his head to the side as his gaze was on her lips.
They were both breathing heavy, her hands glided from his hair towards his cheeks. “We can’t,” she mumbled as she dragged her thumb across his cheeks. He clenched his jaw as he met her gaze.
He slowly put her back down, his hands glided up the same path they took before. Her hands glided from his cheek down his chest. Adjusting her dress on her frame, he soon rested his hands onto her lower back. He leaned towards her, kissing her softly.
“I know,” he mumbled against her lips as she slowly slipped away from him.
He didn’t stop her as she began walking deeper into the night club. He stood in the secluded hallway, watching her slip away into the crowd. He clenched his jaw before he took a deep breath. He dragged his hand across his nose before he dropped his gaze towards his feet.
He needed another drink. He needed many drinks.
~~~
Tensions were high for the next few days after that. She was considering on leaving because Jack wouldn’t talk to her and she was avoiding Luke the entire time. She stayed in her room for an entire day, claiming to be violently hungover. Which was not entirely wrong because she was in fact, violently hungover.
She was laying in bed, staring towards the screen. She was debating on what to watch. She clicked on Grey’s Anatomy, since that’s what she’s been watching this summer. It felt wrong without Luke.
Almost on cue, there was a loud knock on her door. She muttered a come in as she rolled over to see who was walking into her room. Luke stepped inside, quickly twisting the lock behind him.
“What are you doing?” she asked quietly. He took a deep breath as he sat down on the mattress.
“I should be asking you the same question because what is that?” he let out as he pointed behind him towards the TV. She smirked as she shook her head slightly.
“What are you doing, Luke?” she asked as she scanned his features. He smiled softly as he rested his hand beside her thigh.
“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled as he pursed his lips forward, “And the other guys all went out with some girls they met the other night. So here I am,”
Her eyes widened, “You missed me?” she asked teasingly.
“Well, you’ve been hiding in your room for days so, yes I’ve missed you,” he explained as he leaned towards her.
“I haven’t been hiding,” she mumbled as she scanned his features.
“Oh really, what have you been doing?” he asked as he tilted his head to the side.
“Enjoying some peace and quiet,” she mumbled, “And some Grey’s,” she felt her chest get heavy as she continued to look into his eyes. “They left us alone? I can’t believe it,” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled as he climbed over her, laying beside her. “I think Jack’s exact words were ‘try not to have sex while we’re gone’,” Luke said jokingly.
“Well, he won’t have to worry about that,” she muttered as she pressed play on the TV. He chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“And how are you so confident about that?” he mumbled as he tilted his head to the side. He met her gaze, a smirk on his lips.
“Because–” she trailed off as her gaze lowered towards his lips, “Stop looking at me,” she said while fighting off a grin. He chuckled as he inched towards her. “Luke,” she mumbled.
“I can’t stop,” he mumbled as he reached his hand over and took a hold of her cheek. He pulled her towards him as he kissed her desperately. A gasp left her lips before she began to deepen the kiss. The tension in her body faded as she tossed the blanket from her frame.
She thought about it for a second before she slowly climbed onto his lap. He took a hold of her thigh as he helped her. Her hands landed on the base of his neck as she began to twist the small curls. His hands were delicately running along the exposed skin of her thighs.
After several minutes she finally mumbled out, “We’re not having sex,” against his lips between kisses. Luke let out a soft chuckle.
“Okay,” he mumbled, a small smile forming to his lips. He tilted his head back against the headboard as he admired her features.
“This is why I was hiding,” she mumbled as she scanned his features. She ran her thumbs across his pinked cheeks.
Leaning towards her, he pecked her lips. “Thought you weren’t hiding,” he teased. Her lips fell into a pout as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He raised his hand up and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she mumbled as she looked into his eyes.
“But you want to,”
“Luke,” she said as she tilted her head to the side. She wanted to say more but every thought she had disappeared as she leaned towards him, kissing him desperately again. His hand glided to the base of her neck.
“Y/N,”
“Can we not talk?” she mumbled and he nodded before he pressed his lips against hers.
~~~
She was pacing back and forth in the hallway in front of Trevor’s room. She had to tell someone because she can’t spend the remainder of her time at the lakehouse stuck in her room. Someone had to know because she spent majority of her night last time making out with Luke and she was feeling guilty.
Guilty because she hated that she was doing it behind Jack’s back but it was perfect. Luke’s perfect and she was tired of pretending he wasn’t.
A gasp left her lips as Trevor stepped out of the room. “Oh my god!” he shouted as he stepped back placing his hand against his chest. She jumped back. “What are you doing?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked quietly. He nodded suspiciously as he pointed behind him. “Great, thanks,” she muttered as she walked into his room. He laughed as he shut the door.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked somewhat teasingly as he sat down on his bed. She began to pace back and forth in front of his bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to watch her back and forth.
She took a deep breath as she stopped short and met Trevor’s gaze. “I need you to be a girl right now, this conversation won’t work if you react how you normally do,” she explained while looking into his eyes urgently. He nodded slowly.
“I can be a girl,” he said confidently.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly, “The other night at the club, I made out Luke,” she explained.
He chuckled and raised his hand up, “Nice!” he said. Her eyes widened while shaking her head. He cleared his throat and lowered his hand, “Right, be a girl, right,” he nodded before he began to talk again with a higher pitched voice, “Oh my god, that’s amazing. What was it like?”
“Trevor, come on,” she whined out.
“Seriously! What was that like!?” he asked, his voice back to normal.
“It was amazing but it can’t be amazing because Jack would never speak to me again if he found out,”
“That’s not true,” Trevor said.
“It is true because I did it again last night,” she said shyly. Trevor’s eyes widened as a grin formed to his lips.
“Please high five me,” he said while holding his hand up again. Clenching her jaw, she reluctantly high fived him.
She sat down beside Trevor, criss crossing her legs. Pressing her lips together, she took a deep breath. “I’ve never been kissed like that before,” she mumbled. Trevor smile softened as he met her gaze.
“I gotta ask,” his voice was quiet as he glanced towards his bedroom door, “This doesn’t seem like it just started this summer,” he shyly looked back towards her.
“We hung out a lot while Jack was in the playoffs,” she said simply as she pursed her lips forward.
“I was heartbroken and lonely. Luke didn’t know anyone else out here and was lonely too. I don’t know when it happened but he stopped being Jack’s little brother and Little Hughesy and he was just Luke,” she expressed.
“So you’ve had feelings for him for a while then?” Trevor questioned, squinting his eyes slightly.
“Maybe? I don’t know,” she forced out as she tapped her fingertips against her calves. He nodded while he tried to meet her eye. “I just like being around him,” she mumbled.
“You also like kissing him apparently,” Trevor teased. Her mouth fall open as she pushed him. He fell onto his elbows while chuckling.
“Yeah I do,” she let out softly, “He’s really good at it,” she continued.
Trevor fell onto his back while laughing. He covered his face with his hands, “That’s the line! I didn’t need to know that,” he muffled out through his hands. She tilted her head back laughing.
“Do you really think Jack can get over this, if Luke and I get together?” she asked, switching the tone to serious quickly.
Trevor pulled his hands away from his face as he slowly sat up. He dragged his hand across from his chin as he swallowed hard. “I think he would be pissed longer if you two keep hiding it from him. You also should figure out what is going on with Luke before you tell Jack anything,”
She nodded as she stared towards her lap, taking everything in. “Okay, yeah–figure out what’s going on first,” she repeated as she kept her gaze towards her lap. Trevor stared towards her, pursing his lips forward.
“You clearly have feelings for him, so just tell him that,”
“I think he already knows,”
“You think?”
“Yes, I mean I think it’s obvious,” she muttered.
Trevor threw his head back laughing. “He’s a Hughes, they can’t pick up on clues if they were written in a giant billboard,” Trevor explained. Her mouth fell open as she rolled her eyes playfully.
“I mean I told him that I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I think that’s obvious enough,” she said while laughing. Trevor’s lips fell into a pout as he tilted his head to the side. “Stop,” she whined as she pushed him back again.
“Go talk to him,” he said while delicately pushing her off of the bed. She stood up and took a deep breath as she walked towards the door.
“Wish me luck,” she muttered before she snuck out of the room.
Shutting the door behind her, her legs suddenly felt heavy as she started walking towards her room. Y/N pulled her phone from her pocket to text Luke to meet her in her room. Lifting her gaze, she saw Luke walking towards her.
Her eyes widened as her heart began to pound hard against her chest.
“The pizza place doesn’t deliver so Jack and Quinn went to go pick it up,” he explained as his eyes trailed her frame for a moment.
“Perfect because we need to talk,” she said simply as she turned towards her room, she opened the door and slipped inside. Quickly, Luke followed her inside; a soft grin on his lips in the process.
“Yeah?” he asked softly as he shut the door behind him, twisting the lock in the process. Slowly, she turned around to meet his eye as her lips fell into a pout. His eyes widened as he rested his hands onto her hips. She lifted her gaze as she looked into his eye. “What’s going on?” he asked while scanning her features.
“I hate this,” she mumbled as her voice broke. His eyebrows furrowed harshly as he panickly looked over her features.
“What?” he asked barely above a whisper.
She swallowed hard before she practically leaped towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him urgently. He wrapped his arms around her lower back as he kissed her back hesitantly. He slowly stumbled towards her bed.
Her legs hit the mattress. He slowly loosened his grip around her body, she returned to her feet as their lips were still connected.
Her fingers ran through his hair as she slowly moved her hands against his cheeks. She ran her thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the heat radiate from them. His hands were on her lower back, pulling her towards him hesitantly.
“I’m getting mixed signals here,” he mumbled against her lips. Slowly, she pecked his lips one more time before she slowly pulled away from him. She met his blue eyes for a second as she sat down on the bed. Looking up towards him, her lips fell into a pout again.
He sat down beside her, wrapping his hand around her waist. His fingertips were delicately tapping against her hip. Tilting her head to the side, she met his gaze. She took a deep breath.
“You’re right,” she mumbled. He scanned her features, waiting for her to continue. “I want this. I want you and I hate that I do because you are the one person I shouldn’t want. I hate that I am sad when you’re not around. I hate that I haven’t stopped thinking about you and I think–I think you haven’t stopped thinking about me too,”
“I haven’t,” he let out.
She looked deeply into his eyes, nodding slightly as her lips curled upward for a moment. “Is this just physical or is this something else? Because I can’t tell and I don’t know if it’s because of my trust issues or what el–”
He reached his hand over as he took a hold of her cheek. He dragged his thumb across her skin for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into his eyes. “I want you, I want everything,” he expressed as he leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers delicately. “I need you,” he mumbled against her lips.
Reluctantly, she pulled back to meet his gaze. “Really?” she asked barely above a whisper. He hummed and she smiled softly. “Okay,”
“Okay?” he questioned as he raised his eyebrows. She nodded as her smile widened. He giggled softly before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. A giggle fell from her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She fell onto her back as he was still holding her tightly against his chest.
He lifted his head up from the crook of her neck as he leaned down and kissed her urgently. She hummed against his lips as her fingers began to run through his curls. They slowly adjusted their position, she was laying completely on the bed as he was on top of her. Their lips not separating for a single second.
In that moment, everything was perfect. His lips on hers as her hands were roaming his body. They were together and everything was the way it should’ve been.
He pulled his lips away from hers as he began to trail his lips along her jawline. He lowered them down her neck taking a moment to glide his hand up her shirt. Delicately running his fingertips along the side of her waist.
A hushed moan fell from her lips as he trailed his lips back up towards her lips. He pressed them against hers sensually as his hand hiked up her shirt slightly on her frame.
Arching her back into him, she allowed him to begin to pull the shirt from her frame. Instead, he smirked as he climbed down her frame, pressing wet kisses against her stomach. She took a hold of the ends of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Tossing it to the floor, she glanced down towards Luke.
She grinned as she tilted her head back. He hummed against her skin, sending electricity all over her body. A sudden gasp fell from her lips as she stared towards the ceiling. He pulled his lips away from her frame as he sat back, tugging his shirt from his body. He tossed it to the floor.
Her eyes lowered towards his abs and he smirked slightly as he climbed back on top of her. “What?” he asked innocently. She shook her head as she pursed her lips forward. She slowly ran her finger tips down his chest, tracing each line of his muscles. Her eyes widened slightly as she watched his body tense under her touch.
“Very nice,” she mumbled as she lifted her gaze back up meeting his eye.
“Yeah?” he asked teasingly as he leaned down and kissed her delicately. “Yeah?” he asked again against her lips. She hummed as she raised her hands up and began to run her fingers through his hair.
There were loud knocks against her door and Luke quickly fell away from her. “Jack and Quinn just pulled into the driveway. You better get yourselves together!” Trevor shouted from outside the door. Luke stared towards the ceiling breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” she mumbled as she jumped off of her bed as she leaned down to take a hold of her shirt. Luke slowly stood up from the bed, reaching for his shirt as well. “You can’t say anything until I talk to Jack,” she let out as her breathing started to quicken. “You promise?”
He nodded as he walked around the bed quickly. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. He rested his hands onto her waist, “I promise,” he said as he pulled away. She walked away from him as she took a deep breath.
Unlocking the door, she pulled it open to see Trevor standing there. He had a grin on his lips as he had his hand up for another high five.
Rolling her eyes she walked past him, “I am not high fiving you again,” she let out while laughing as she continued down the hall. Her hands were running through her hair and fanning her face; trying to pretend she wasn’t all flustered. She met Cole’s gaze as she walked towards the couch. He smiled softly towards her before he looked back down towards his phone.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Lukey, this is awesome!” he said excitedly in a hushed tone. Luke glanced down the hall towards Y/N but she was already in the living room. A smirk formed on his lips as he high fived Trevor.
“Can’t talk about it until she speaks with Jack, alright?” Luke whispered. Trevor nodded quickly as he pointed towards the hallway. They began to walk side by side as they heard the door being pushed open.
Quinn was carrying two boxes and so was Jack. “Where’s my tip?” Jack said happily as he strutted inside the house. Quinn shook his head while following Jack.
“I fucking drove, dude,” Quinn said while laughing. Jack didn’t respond as he rested the pizza boxes onto the counter. Quinn placed his boxes on top of Jack’s. Luke looked towards Y/N as she was staring towards her lap, she was tapping her fingertips against the top of her thigh. Luke took in a deep breath as he walked towards the kitchen with the other boys.
They all began to take slices of pizza and placing them onto their plates. After a few seconds, they all walked away and headed towards the living room. Luke took a few slices and placed it onto a plate and he walked towards the living room. He walked directly up to Y/N and handed her the plate. Looking up towards him, a soft smile formed to her lips.
“Thanks,” she said softly. He nodded before he walked back towards the kitchen to make his own. Jack glanced towards the pair, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He pursed his lips forward as he tilted his head back slightly.
Y/N shifted her gaze towards Jack just when he was looking towards her too. He nodded slightly before he happily bit into his food again. She took a deep breath as she bit into her food.
~~~
The following morning she was waiting for Jack to emerged onto the main level of the house. She was sitting in the living room a coffee mug in her hand as she was scrolling through her Tiktok.
This was the first time in months that she’s felt this happy, maybe in years. Her entire body was physically more relaxed. Every ounce of tension in her body was gone. Well maybe not every ounce. She was still so nervous to tell Jack. But something about last night told her that maybe it would be okay.
She heard steps from the stairs and she lifted her gaze to see Luke walking downstairs. He was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Y/N smiled softly as she watched him climb down the steps. Luke pulled his hands away from his eyes. He grinned widely as he saw her on the couch.
“Good morning gorgeous,” he said as his voice rasped. He walked towards her while looking into her eyes.
“Morning,” she muttered before she took a sip of her coffee. He stood behind her looking down towards her. She tilted her head back as he leaned down towards her delicately pressing his lips against hers.
He pulled away, “Are you talking to Jack today?” he asked softly. She nodded slowly, “Good because I might have already told Quinn,” her eyes widened, “He’s on board, he’s cool,” he reassured before he pecked her lips. She chuckled as he leaned back.
“I am going to talk to him this morning,” she said as she took a shaky breath. Luke hummed as he walked towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.
After a few more minutes, it seemed like all of the boys woke up at the same time and walked down towards the main level. Quinn walked down the steps smirking towards Y/N as he stifled a chuckle. She pursed her lips forward as she looked back down towards her lap.
Slowly, she stood up from the couch. “Uh–Jack?” she let out. He lifted his gaze from his phone, meeting her eye. “Can you come with me, we’re out of tequila an–and other alcohol,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, sure,” he said as he stood up. The other boys shared glances as she walked towards the door. She took a hold of her purse that was on the side table. She took a hold of the keys inside of the bowl. Jack met Luke’s gaze for a moment before he followed Y/N out of the lakehouse.
It took a few minutes before she pulled out of the driveway. Her entire body felt weak but she needed to tell him. She couldn’t move forward with Luke if she didn’t tell Jack.
Jack was in the passenger seat, trying to find a playlist to play. He decided on his country playlist, the playlist he would usually pick. He leaned over and turned up the music.
Jack furrowed his eyebrows as she took a left instead of a right. “The liquor store is that way,” he said pointing behind him.
“I’m going to talk and you are going to listen,” she said simply, “Which is why I am taking the long way,” she explained.
“Okay,” he said suspiciously.
“I think,” she paused as she tapped her finger nervously against the steering wheel. “I think you think that I’m leading Luke on,” she started. Jack sat up straighter, staring towards her side profile. “Or that this is a summer fling but I–” she paused again as she pulled up to a red light.
Y/N looked towards Jack and he was listening intently.
“I have feelings for Luke,” she let out slowly as she met his gaze. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest as his face didn’t change.
“I think I’ve had them for a while but I am not sure because everything with Henry messed me up really badly. And he was there which is not your fault you were busy in the playoffs and–” she paused as he pointed ahead of him. She took a deep breath as she started driving ahead.
“I was lonely and he was lonely; and I loved spending time with him. But I didn’t think it was feelings until we danced together while we were extremely drunk.” she paused as she took a sudden breath. “I tried to stop my feelings, I shoved them down and I kept my distance but he is impossible to stay away from because he is charming. He is cute and a great kisser.” she explained rushly.
Her mouth fell open as a wave of nausea coursed through her body.
“I mean it was only a few times but now I think we’re serious like possibly he might be my boyfriend. We didn’t put a label on it. But I wanted to tell you so badly because you are my best friend and he’s your little brother; and I know how protective you are over him and I won’t hurt him. I’ll never hurt him or–or you,” she explained.
For the first time in possibly minutes, there was a silence. Jack’s lips curled upward as a chuckle fell from his lips. “Can I talk now?” he asked slowly. She nodded dramatically as she kept her gaze straight ahead, even though she was at a red light.
“I’m not blind, you know,” he began, “I think I knew that you and him had feelings for each other when I was getting my ass handed to me in Raleigh. Any time I called Luke, you two were together hanging out. I just thought that he was cheering you up but I think you two were falling in love.”
Her eyes widened slightly as she kept her gaze ahead. He chuckled.
“These lakehouse trips are the only times I see all of my favorite people in one place. I was watching my little brother take my best friend and I was mad. So I yelled at you,” his voice got quiet, “I’m really sorry. But if Lukey makes you happy and you make him happy. I think I can be happy too,” he explained. Her lips curled upward as she pulled into the parking lot. “But I’ve got rules,” he began.
“Okay,” she said while laughing.
“First rule,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t want to see it. Hands, mouth, keep them to yourself. Second rule, I share custody of both of you. I get time with Lukey and I get time with you. Third rule. When it’s all three of us, I’m not the third wheel; there better be no evidence that ya’ll are together. Fourth rule–”
“Four rules! Are you kidding!?” she said while laughing. He smirked while rolling his eyes.
“Fourth rule,” he let out slowly, “I don’t want details. That thing about my little brother being a good kisser, I didn’t need to know that information. We’re best friends but I don’t need to know,” he explained.
She tilted her head back and laughed. After a few seconds, she unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted her body to face him. Leaning her head against the headrest she met Jack’s gaze. Her eyes softened.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked barely above a whisper.
He nodded, “I’ve never seen my little brother so happy and just so happens, I’ve never seen my best friend so happy. So yeah, I’m okay with this,”
~
They both returned to the house, carrying several bags of alcohol. They were smiling and laughing as they stepped inside. “Our alcohol!” Cole cheered as he stood up and jogged towards the door. He took a hold of a few of the bags to lighten Y/N’s load. Luke lifted his gaze, a hopeful smile on his lips as he met Jack’s gaze.
Jack didn’t change his face as he continued walking towards the kitchen with his bags. Luke’s face fell as he lowered his gaze towards his lap.
“We nearly cleared all the shelves,” Y/N joked as she placed her bags onto the countertop while Cole and Jack placed theirs on the dining table.
“Almost but we are drinking all day today, okay. Get some shots in your bodies now,” Jack teased as he walked towards the living room. Luke stared blankly ahead his heart slamming against his chest. Y/N stood by the dining table, looking towards Luke expectantly.
Luke watched as Jack walked towards him. Jack smiled softly as he patted his hand against Luke’s shoulder, “Your girl’s waiting on you, come on,” he said, a teasing grin on his lips.
“My what?” Luke let out softly.
“Your girlfriend over there,” Jack teased as he tilted his head to the side in the direction of Y/N. Luke smiled widely as he stood up from the chair, he faced Jack. Luke looked into his eyes.
“Are you cool with this?” he asked softly. Jack smiled as he reached up and wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulder. On his tippy toes, he began to walk with Luke towards the dining area.
“I am cool with this but I have rules,” Jack announced loudly. Everyone else began to pay attention too.
“Aw nice! You told him, this is great,” Cole cheered before he tossed back a shot of vodka.
Y/N smiled towards Luke as she leaned against the dining table.
“I have exactly four rules,” Jack said as he pulled away from Luke and stepped beside Cole and took a hold of one of the tiny shot glasses.
“Get ready,” she teased as Luke walked towards her. Delicately resting his hands onto her waist.
“First rule! No hands!” he waved his hands towards them. Awkwardly, Luke pulled his hands away from Y/N’s body, stifling a laugh. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked into Y/N’s eyes. “No mouths, I don’t wanna see it,” Jack said before he tossed the shot back. He shook his head.
“I second that rule,” Quinn encouraged before he tossed back his own shot.
Jack continued to list the remainder of the rules. Everyone else nodded along with each rule. They agreed to every last detail. Jack was animated with dramatic hand gestures in the process. All Luke could do was laugh.
“So basically, you want us to act like nothing ever happened?” Luke asked with a grin on his lips. Jack nodded while crossing his arms over his chest proudly. Luke shifted his gaze towards Y/N, raising his eyebrows slightly. She nodded very discreetly. “Oh, so you don’t want to see this?” he asked teasingly as he delicately rested his hands on her lower back as he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently.
“Stop it!” Jack shouted while laughing. “Already breaking the rules!” he yelled as he pushed Luke away from Y/N. All of the other boys started laughing and wolf whistling.
Luke kept his hands onto her waist as he leaned his head against her shoulder. She reached up and rested her hand against his neck.
“Too much, too soon. I need more alcohol,” Jack let out while shaking his head, still laughing. Quickly, Jack poured himself another shot. “Someone take a box or a bottle, let’s get on the boat. So I don’t have to be watching this,” he mumbled as he took a hold of the vodka bottle and began walking out of the lakehouse.
All of the other guys laughed along as they followed him out of the house. Each of them taking a box of seltzers and leaving Luke and Y/N alone. He smirked before he leaned towards her, kissing her desperately. She giggled as she leaned away.
“Hey,” she mumbled as she ran her thumb across the side of his neck.
“Hey,” he muttered as his gaze lowered towards her lips. “His rules are stupid, right?” he asked as gaze remained on her lips. She nodded before she leaned towards him, kissing him desperately.
“Come on, before we get into trouble,” she mumbled against his lips. He smiled softly as he reluctantly stepped back. He held out his hand towards her and she happily took a hold of as he guided her towards the exit.
~Three days later~
He was laying shirtless on her bed, only a pair of black sweatpants covering his frame. She entered her room a towel covering her frame. Her eyes widened as her grip tightened around her towel.
“Luke! What the hell!” she said as she looked over his frame. He smirked as he did the same. Pressing his lips together, he fought a grin forming to his lips.
“Hey,” he said simply as he leaned back on his elbows as he continued to admire her.
“No hey, you are in my room and I don’t have clothes on,” she said while walking towards the closet to find something to cover her frame. Luke stood up from the bed excitedly. He stepped towards her excitedly, a smirk toying to his lips.
“Um, you know,” he swallowed hard as he scanned her frame. His cheeks started to pink up. “Boyfriend’s tend to see girlfriend’s without clothes,” he let out shyly. Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. She tried to stop herself from laughing.
“Well, boyfriend, if you think that this is the first time you’ll see me naked then you are strongly mistaken,” she let out teasingly. His lips fell into a pout as he continued to scan her frame. “Turn around and close your eyes, please,” she let out smiling. He smirked as he slowly turned around and closed his eyes.
“Thank you,” she sing songed. She dramatically dropped the towel towards the floor.
“Now that’s just mean,” he said as he chuckled. She reached into her closet and took a hold of her matching pajama set. It was pink and silk and she quickly covered her frame. She ran her hand across her stomach. It was a thin tank top with a pair of loose shorts.
“You are so dramatic,” she said as she ran her hand across the center of his back. He tilted his head back as he swallowed hard. “So cute but very dramatic,” she mumbled. He chuckled dryly, his eyes still closed.
Slowly, she took a few steps to face him. Delicately, she ran her hands across his chest. His body tensed under her touch as he bit his bottom lip.
She glided her hands from his chest up to his shoulders before she landed on his neck. Her thumbs ran across the sides of his neck as she leaned up towards him and pecked his lips.
“Can I open my eyes,” he asked softly. She hummed and he opened his eyes slowly to meet her gaze. He reached his hands towards her resting on her waist. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled before he leaned towards her kissing her urgently.
He leaned down as he took a hold of her thighs. Instantly, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Her hands ran through his curls as she deepened the kiss. Delicately, he lowered her down onto her bed as he climbed on top of her. A giggle fell from her lips as he pulled away, meeting her eye. “We’re not having sex in this house,” she said as she ran her hand across his jaw.
“I know,” he muttered as he leaned towards her as he pressed his lips against her jawline. Tilting her head back, he lowered his lips down her neck, trailing wet kisses.
Her breath caught in her throat, “I–I mean it, Luke,” she mumbled as she dragged her tongue across her bottom lip. He pulled the strap of her top off of her shoulder as he continued to lower his lips.
He slowly began to suck against the skin beneath her collarbone. He dragged his tongue across the heated skin as he tugged at the ends of her top. “Luke–” she let out breathlessly.
He hummed against her skin as he lifted his head up to meet her gaze. He glided his free hand along her side as he dipped his hand beneath the thin fabric of her tank top. “You can’t be doing this,” she muttered as she ran her fingers through his curls.
He smirked as he pecked her lips. “You cannot be kissing me like that,” she let out as she looked deeply into his eyes.
“Why not?” he asked softly as he leaned down and kissed her softly. She whined against his lips, he chuckled as he smiled as he pulled away.
“Because…” she trailed off as she scanned his features, “You just can’t kiss me like that,” she mumbled. He smirked as he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. A muffled moan fell from her lips as he kept the pace slow. His hands were delicate as he glided along the skin of her stomach before he delicately tugged at it.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked as he pressed his lips against the corner of her lips. She took a deep breath as he kissed her jawline.
“No, don’t stop,” she mumbled breathlessly. He smirked against her skin as he continued to lower his lips along her skin. “Fuck,” she mumbled as she tilting her head back as she shut her eyes.
There was a loud knock against her door and Luke lifted his head as he clenched his jaw. Her lips fell into a pout as she let out a groan. “There’s a fifth rule! No sex while we’re under the same roof!” Jack shouted from outside the door.
Luke laughed as he rolled onto his back while shaking his head. He took a deep breath. He reached towards her, taking a hold of her waist and pulled her towards him. She smirked as she rolled onto her side as she rested her head into the crook of his neck.
“Oh my god, he’s going to be so annoying, isn’t he?” she mumbled as she pressed her lips against his neck.
“He’s going to be awful,” Luke let out while laughing.
stop i'm literally in love with alex 😻 to be in a relationship with her 🤭 charles is so freaking lucky
IKR???
i i’m actually so embarrassingly in love with her like???
move over charles, that’s my gf now. My gf, my dog now Leclerc.
The way I would fight him for her is crazy.
Alexandra is so 😮💨😮💨🤤
The best way to describe it is that i want to go on a picnic with her wearing cute sundresses white sitting on a plaid blanket with a basket filled with wildflowers and we eat cheesecake together while we look at all the plants in a flower filled meadow. ❤️
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