"Focus, George. Focus"

Races Shouldn't End Like That - F1 Grid

Request from @rj10109 - could I please request a f1 grid x driver reader where reader kinda passes out from heat exhaustion in the qatar grand pix and the grid acts like protective older brothers, or the reader gets into a crash and gets injured and everyone just dotes on her

I did write something similar to this based around Charles dating the reader, but I actually quite like this idea tbh.

Alfa Romeo driver!reader

Y/n's head felt like her brain was melting, it wasn't just a headache, it actually felt like there was fire all over her. Her skin prickles from the heat as her suit clings to her skin, saturated in her sweat. Every breath out hurts.

Talking on the radio takes up so much energy when they finally tell her she's over the finish line, she actually feels like she's going to be sick.

"Y/n, do you copy?" Y/n's race engineer calls out making her snap out of her.

Whatever Jamie said, she just wasn't listening.

"Copy." She coughs out completely breaths.

Sweat is blurring her vision and has been for a while, she feels like shit and the idea of hauling herself out of the car is just too exhausting.

"Y/n? Are you feeling ok? We've had reports of other drivers unwell and Logan retired due to feeling unwell."

That was an option?

"Y/n?"

"I don't feel good." Y/n finally chokes out.

"You don't feel good? Do you need to stop?"

"No. I can make it back, I just..." Her voice trails off into a dehydrated cough.

"Alright, just bring yourself back. Don't talk."

When she pulls in she turns off the car and just sits. Not even sure how she's meant to get out the car.

"Hey, hey, baby girl. Let's get you out of there." Jamie smiles appearing with her trainer Gordie who reaches in undoing her helmet and pulling it off. The drenched inside soaked so much with her sweat that it drips out of it. "Jesus."

"That bad?" Y/n jokes as her balaclava is peeled from her skin. "Fuck."

"Ok, we're going to get you out."

"I'm...I'm...it hurts. Everything hurts." Y/n admits making Jamie look at her in worry.

They manage to position themselves to pull her body from the heat of the cock pit and with a couple of the mechanics there pointing the fans at her as they quickly peel the upper part of her suit off.

"Let's get you to weigh in. Media can wait. I want you checked at the medical centre." Gordie states making her nod. "Come on, we got you."

"No. I'm fine. I'm good. No one else is being carried-"

"Trust us. Some of the others haven't got away from their cars." Jamie states making her look around to see Alex is still very much on top of his car looking just as bad if not worse than her.

Y/n sighs heavily before she stands up feeling her legs wobble but she holds her hands out to keep the men from aiding her.

"I've got it."

Y/n makes it to the weigh bridge where she doesn't even want to know how much weight she lost before she moves to change quickly into something at least a little less sweaty with Gordie's help.

They get her to the medical centre where she is quickly told she has heat exhaustion to which she replies it feels like she was boiled in her own blood throughout the race.

"I'll do media pen, then can you make sure there's an ice bath to drown myself in?" Y/n asks making her trainer nod as she sees the teams comms personnel waiting for her to get her to the media pen for her post-race interviews.

Y/n ends up waiting a few minutes because she's came in a rush of drivers coming in late.

"Y/n, you look..." Charles grimaces making her shake her head at him.

"Don't." Y/n states quickly as he looks at her in pity. "I thought I was going to die. You look fine though."

Charles' expression speaks loudly in ways he clearly doesn't want to.

"Y/n...Here, have this." Charles states giving her his ice pack vest and helping her into it.

"You don't have to-"

"You need it more." Charles shrugs before moving over to another interview while she finds herself with Esteban suddenly appearing.

"You joined Ferrari?" Esteban jokes making her laugh then wobbling a little as she tries to shift her weight. The sudden coolness is a bit more of a shock to the system and is seemingly making her head floor with all the hot blood as if it's running from the ice pack jacket. "I thought I was bad. I was sick in my helmet if that helps at all."

"I'm not sure it helps...are you ok?"

"Better now. I look better than you...how much weight did you lose?"

"You should never ask a lady that." Fernando states appearing suddenly as he moves to hug y/n who sort of takes the rest of not quite supporting her own weight. "Ah, y/n. You are burning."

"My-"

Y/n stumbles pushing past the Spaniard and out the media pen only, dropping onto her knees as the small amount of water she'd managed to get into herself after the race spills out of her.

"Y/n?" Max calls out suddenly making her shake her head.

Her head feels like her brain just exploded from the strain and pressure of heaving and the world is spinning around her.

"On three."

Two people have locked onto her arms and lifted her up just enough to shift her away from the puddle of sick. She's in a bad way.

Max and Lando are the ones to lift her and carry her to a table. Where Lando came from she doesn't know, she just sees the flash of orange with curly hair.

"Hey...they're getting the medics." Lando smiles crouching in front of her while Max fusses over her trying to get a cold towel around her neck.

She's broke out in a new sweat and there's seemingly not enough to cool her down.

"You guys aren't this bad." Y/n hiccups making the slowly gathering crowd of drivers, trainers and other team members exchange looks between themselves.

"The ones who aren't here, are this bad." Max states before the medics appear and everyone divides.

-

Y/n ended up being given some pretty strong painkillers and taken for an ice bath before being rushed to the hotel.

With the news of her in a pretty poor condition meaning that she couldn't leave as soon as she'd planned to, a few of the drivers grouped together to make sure she knew that she certainly wouldn't be alone.

"Y/n...you have some guests." Gordie smiles having disappeared about half an hour ago and now reappearing with a group of drivers behind him.

Among those, Oscar, Max, Charles, Carlos, Lando, Logan, Alex, Lewis, George, Pierre, Esteban, Liam, Yuki and Fernando. More than half the grid joining her.

"We're having a day all squished together." Carlos smiles as he climbs onto the bed that she's set up on and hugs her. "Poor baby."

"You are so lucky you didn't have to do that race." Y/n pouts leaning onto him.

Even now her temperature is a little high, Gordie has been trying to get her to eat some breakfast but they're about to destroy his efforts with a much more effective method.

"We bring ice cream cake!" Max states presenting the cake with Yuki.

"As long as I'm not expected to eat it all."

"Yeah, we're still waiting for her appetite to come back." Gordie smiles as the drivers each find a spot to place themselves. Most fitting on the bed, some dragging the spare seats and sofa over to the bed so they can all be close.

"I think we got it from here mate." Lewis states patting Gordie’s shoulder.

Her trainer had stayed up through the night essentially nursing y/n and making sure she didn't suddenly need medical assistance again.

"Did you guys really all come here just for me?" Y/n pouts as Yuki takes charge of dividing up the cake.

"You scared us yesterday." Max comments making her grimace.

"So Alex and Logan." George assures her but when she looks at the Williams drivers, she's isn't given much comfort. They've both laid down on her bed towards the end and look like they each need another 20 hours of sleep.

At some point Max sets up a games console and they begin playing video games. Though y/n is still far too fatigued and achy to take part. She decides to team up with Lando who had sat himself on the other side of her to Carlos.

And that's how she spends the day, some of which she is dozing in and out of sleep leaning either on Lando or Carlos till Lando moves and swapped out with Liam who apparently decides to nap with her for a while as the others bicker about a certain game.

Eventually they all fall asleep and when Gordie returns in the evening he manages to wake them all for a meal then leaving them to sleep again. Which they all do more than happily.

Even Carlos and Lewis are just happy to be involved, despite their lack of involvement in the race over all.

It's already been decided the drivers will be having a meeting with the FIA to discuss the matter of the race and conditions in which it's acceptable to allow a race to go forth. Obviously they have rules in place for wet weather. But there seems to be blurry lines about the safety of hot and cold and where the line lies when the temperature is simply too high or too low. But they'll tackle that after some recovery time.

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess

His Girl

Part 2

Summary: Lando loves his rich, girl boss, girl. Though he doesn't really know what she really does underneath. Until he does.

or

In which Lando finds out his girlfriend is not who she said she was.

Side note: I'm using names for reader, and spelling and grammar errors. This is fake, nothing is real. So don't send shit massages to me.

Warnings: Blood. Dead body. Guns.

Part One

Masterlist

2022

It had been two years since Bonnie and Lando met and started dating. In those two years, they had been so in love. Never felling like this with anyone else. Lando's family was so happy for them both seeing their love.

Lando had never questioned where she got her money as Bonnie had told him that her father was wealthy and left her with everything and the company.

He did question her about the bodyguards following her all the time, But Bonnie had just said that it had been like that since she was born as he father was a wealthy man.

He was in aww when he had first saw her two-story London home. It was set on an acreage and was huge. He had jockeying asked if she was in the mafia, what he didn't see was the color to drain from her face and her guards throw each other looks.

The first time Lando had ever been almost close to figuring it out was by accident. Something Bonnie had made saw never happened again. Because if she was ever going to protect anything in the world it would be Lando and their relationship.

It was an early morning in London. The sun not even rising yet. Lando had been staying with Bonnie for a bit in her home as they talked about buying an apartment or house together last night.

Bonnie was relucent, but she agreed it was the next step in their relationship. But she would be keeping her estate in London for business and travel.

Lando was so ecstatic for their move together. And they had celebrating, by having sex. Never a dull moment with Lando.

Bonnie woke as someone entermeted her room and shook her lightly. Lando's arm was around her waist and the other was under her head.

"Miss. Salvatore." A light voice whispered to her. Bonnie new that voice and the only person to ever wake her up would be her maid.

"Mary?" Bonnie asked confused as she sat up quickly, not to disturb Lando.

Her maid's face greeted her. "Someone's here to see you." She spoke her voice shaking lightly.

"Who? At this time?" She whispered to her maid as she carefully got out of bed and grabbed her robe from the floor. Lando rolled over to the other side quickly falling asleep.

"Mr. Lopez is here." Mary whispered terrified.

Bonnie froze from getting her slippers on and looked at Mary wide eye. Mr. Lopez was a rival mafia gang that had always had it out for her father and his operation. While her father dealed guns and money, Mr. Lopez dealed drugs. Something her father stayed away from.

"Get the men and stay here in case Lando wakes up." Bonnie order her maid as she bent down and lifted the rug from under bed and pulled her daggers from out of the floorboards.

Bonnie walked down the hall with her guards all around her. When she got to the grand staircase, she saw her other maids and she guested he was in the parlor room.

"Making yourself at home." Bonnie called as she walked in the room and saw him sitting on one of the black couches.

Mr. Lopez chuckled. "Why how are this fine morning, Bonnie." He smiled at her. But in a cruel way.

"It's Miss Salvatore to you." She snaped and crossed her arms and took a seat in front of him. Mr.' Lopez's back was facing the back where Bonnie's guards were. Ready to kill if needed. "What do you want that couldn't wait till the sunrise was up?" She asked annoyed.

A maid walked in the room with tea for Bonnie. She thanked her and faced the man. He raised his eyebrows. "No offerings for your guest?" He asked leaning back in the leather couch.

Bonnie shot him an annoyed look. "No." She bluntly told him as she added her sugar cubes to her tea. "Now get to it." She ordered.

"Your father dealed in guns and money but now that he's gone, don't think it's time you expanded." Mr. Lopex started as Bonnie listened closely.

"What are you proposing?"

"Drugs." He simply said. "You would be making more money than you do now." He smiled thinking money would get her to agree.

"No." She simply spoke as she crossed her legs.

Mr. Lopez frowned. "You didn't even think about it."

Bonnie shook her head. "I have. My father didn't like drugs and I don't like drugs." She told him. "If that's all you wanted to talk about, you can go now." She told him and leaned back in her seat with her cup of tea.

Mr. Lopez frowned at her and then smirked, "You don't want me to hurt Mr. Norris up in your bedroom, do you?" He taunted her.

Bonnie tensed. The maids and guards that were in the room tensed as well. They had seen firsthand how much Bonnie loved Lando. They knew what she would do to keep him safe.

"Are you threating me?" Bonnie asked as she put her tea down and narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, I'm threating your boyfriend." He smirked. "I want you to do drugs and split all your proferts with me."

"Or what?"

"Mr. Norris gets a rude awaking." Mr. Lopez smirked thinking he won. He leaned back in his seat as he watches Bonnie's face go from fear to blank.

"Do you know what my father always taught me, Mr. Lopez?" She asked as she stood up from her seat and out of the way. She moved to the fireplace martlet where photos of her and her father were sat.

"What?" He asked confused.

Bonnie smiled at a photo of her and her father. It was her sixth birthday. She turned to Mr. Lopez and smirked as her loyal guard got his silencer gun out of his jacked.

"He told me that you never enter a house without protection or backup. And you especially never threaten their family. And you Josphe Hunt Lopez have just made that mistake." She smirked and watched as he quickly shot up and turn around and a bullet was lodge in his head.

He fell back and dropped on her marble floors. Blood quickly falling out near his head. Bonnie looked at his dead body. "Never threaten someone's loved ones."

The maids quickly got to cleaning just as Marry come around the corner with a look in her eyes.

"Love?" Lando called. bonnie eyes widened and she skipped out of the parlor door and closed them behind her as Lando came down the staircase. His eyes lit up when he saw her. "There you are." He smiled.

Bonnie hugged him back when he hugged her. His head rested in her neck as he hummed. "What are you doing up?" She asked him and ran her hand through his hair.

"What are you doing up." He shot back teasingly. She shot him a grin and shook her head with a laugh.

"Business call." She answered with a smile. Trying to not sound nervous. Lando just hummed and Bonnie took him by the hand and started walking up the stairs. "Why don't we get back bed and try to get more sleep?" She suggested.

Lando hummed with a smile. "Yeah. I just saw you weren't up and wondered where you were." He spoke and shot her a small smile one she sent back.

"Sorry. Duty calls." She laughed lightly. When Lando's back was turned she shot a look at a maid, and she nodded before walking back into the parlor, to help clean the mess up.

Bonnie and Lando both walked back to their room as the maids and bodyguards cleaned up Mr. Lopez. It was something Bonnie didn't want to ever happen again in her home.

Maybe moving was good. Many people from her world didn't know where she lived but the rest that new where people that she trusted now. Her and her people getting rid of the people she didn't trust.

She wouldn't let anything happen to Lando. She wouldn't forgive herself.

Bonnie smiled at Lando as they both got back under the covers. Lando resting his head on her chest. "I love you." Lando told Bonnie as he was falling asleep by Bonnie's fingers running threw his hair.

Bonnie smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, Lan." She whispered back. She felt Lando place a soft kiss on her chest and Bonnie listened to his breathing as he put back to sleep.

Bonnie would do anything for him. he was the best thing that ever happen to her. She hadn't loved much in her short life. But now that she had felt it, looked at it. She was never letting it go or letting anyone destroy what she had found.

Her parents were the only love she had ever seen growing up. Her father had loved her mother so much and it killed him when she died but he didn't turn out horrible like most dads, no he loved her so much. Did everything he could for her.

Her father always said that he didn't regret loving her mother, because he got to know what love was. And he wouldn't change that for that world. She wanted that. A love that will hurt you when it's over. Because then you know it was real.

"I would do anything for you." She whispered down to Lando who was asleep. She placed a light kiss to his cheek. "Nothing is ever going to happen to you on my watch. I'll make sure of it." She promises herself and asleep Lando.

Making promise you can't keep was always going to end badly. There was no dyeing that.

Part 1

Masterlist

Hope you liked it. Hopefully the next part won't be long.

THE NEW AMERICAN

F1 Driver Reader Masterlist

Summary: You join the F1 paddock mid-season alongside fellow rookie Franco Colapinto, stepping in for Lance Stroll after a season-ending injury. This journey is far from sunshine and rainbows, but you’re ready to take on the challenges—and the deep-rooted misogyny of the sport—to prove everyone wrong. Determined to make your mark, you’ll fight to win over the skeptics and earn the respect of the F1 world.

The Debut

The Debut part 2

Azerbaijan GP

Azerbaijan GP part 2

Singapore GP

Singapore GP part 2

Autumn Break

Autumn Break part 2

USA TEXAS GP

USA TEXAS GP part 2

Post Maiden Home Win

Mexican GP

Mexican GP part 2

Brazilian GP

Brazilian GP part 2

Las Vegas GP

Las Vegas GP part 2

Qatar GP

Qatar GP part 2

Abu Dhabi GP

Abu Dhabi GP part 2

End of the Season

Creating a Section/Post for requests specfic to this story. I am open to basically anything even if its a change to the storyline that we can pretend isn't canon. I have written about 3 different versions of these, depending on how this one goes, I may edit and finish the other two f1driver reader series stories.

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

F1 GRID | love languages

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : what i think their love languages are in terms of how they love, and how they like to be loved ᡣ𐭩 ୨ৎ : word count : 1799

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i was taking a love languages test and decided to apply it to the f1 grid // feedback is always appreciated and my requests are OPEN (to absolutely anything)

ʚ・max verstappen

⟢ how he loves › acts of service

max is a man of action, not necessarily big on flowery words or grand gestures. he expresses affection through practical help and by taking care of his partner's needs. such as:

› problem-solving: if his partner has an issue, he'd likely jump in to fix it, whether it's a leaky faucet, a tech malfunction, or a stressful situation. › everyday support: he might take on chores, run errands, or handle tasks to ease his partner's burden and show he cares. › thoughtful gestures: this could involve surprising his partner by taking care of something they've been meaning to do or anticipating their needs before they even ask.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › quality time

despite thriving in the fast-paced world of f1, max seems to value genuine connection and focused attention. for him, quality time likely means:

› undivided attention: putting away distractions, truly listening, and being present in the moment when spending time with his partner. › shared experiences: creating memories together, whether it's through travel, trying new things, or simply enjoying quiet moments at home. › emotional intimacy: feeling understood and valued, with open communication and a sense of deep connection.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

⟢ how he loves › words of affirmation

lewis isn't shy about expressing himself, and this likely extends to his relationships. he seems to genuinely enjoy using words to uplift and appreciate those he cares about.

› frequent compliments: he might regularly tell his partner how much he admires them, appreciates their qualities, or finds them attractive. › verbal encouragement: he'd likely offer support and motivation through words, especially during challenging times. › public declarations of affection: he might express his love and appreciation openly, whether in interviews, on social media, or in other public settings.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › physical touch

beyond his verbal expressions, lewis seems to be very physically affectionate with those close to him. physical touch is likely an important way for him to feel loved and connected.

› non-sexual intimacy: holding hands, cuddling, hugging, and other forms of physical closeness that reinforce a sense of connection. › physical gestures of affection: a kiss on the cheek, a comforting touch on the arm, or a playful nudge that shows warmth and care. › responsiveness to touch: he might appreciate a partner who initiates physical contact and reciprocates his affection.

ʚ・george russell

⟢ how he loves › gift giving

george seems to be a thoughtful and considerate person. he probably puts a lot of effort into finding the perfect gift to show his affection, something that truly reflects his partner's interests and personality. this man really cares.

› meaningful presents: rather than extravagant gestures, he'd likely choose gifts that hold special significance or represent an inside joke, demonstrating that he truly knows and understands his partner. › surprise gestures: he might enjoy surprising his partner with unexpected gifts, just to show he's thinking of them. › acts of service through gifts: the gifts themselves might be practical and helpful, fulfilling a need or desire his partner has expressed.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › words of affirmation

while george may not be as outwardly expressive as some of his peers, he probably thrives on verbal reassurance and support. words of affirmation would likely be crucial for him to feel loved and appreciated.

› encouragement and praise: he'd likely appreciate hearing positive feedback about his performance, both on and off the track, and knowing that his partner believes in him. › expressions of love and appreciation: hearing "i love you" or receiving compliments about his character and personality would likely mean a lot to him. › verbal support during difficult times: knowing that his partner is there for him with encouraging words and understanding would be crucial for him to feel secure and loved.

ʚ・carlos sainz

⟢ how he loves › quality time

carlos seems to be someone who values genuine connections and building strong relationships. for him, spending quality time with his partner would likely be the primary way he expresses his love and affection.

› prioritizing shared experiences: he'd probably make an effort to plan meaningful dates and outings, creating lasting memories together. › being present and engaged: when spending time with his partner, he'd likely be fully present, putting away distractions and focusing on their connection. › deep conversations and active listening: he'd likely enjoy engaging in meaningful discussions, actively listening to his partner's thoughts and feelings, and sharing his own. sure on camera he spaces out a lot, but when you're speaking he's soaking in all the information.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › acts of service

while carlos seems to be very independent and capable, he might also appreciate practical gestures of love and support. acts of service could be a significant way for him to feel cared for and appreciated.

› helping with daily tasks: he might appreciate his partner taking care of errands, chores, or other responsibilities, allowing him to focus on his demanding career. › anticipating his needs: noticing and taking care of things before he even asks, like packing his bag for a race weekend or making sure he has a healthy meal after a long day, would likely show him that his partner is attentive and caring. › supporting his goals and ambitions: helping him achieve his goals, whether it's by offering encouragement, providing practical assistance, or simply being understanding of his demanding schedule, would likely make him feel loved and supported.

ʚ・charles leclerc

⟢ how he loves › physical touch

charles is naturally expressive with physical affection. this isn't just about romance; it's a core part of how he interacts with people. i can tell this man can love hard, and im sure it reflects in his personal life as well.

› close proximity: whether it's with their partner, friends, or family, charles would likely prefer to be in close physical proximity. think sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning against each other, or comfortable, casual touch. › initiating contact: charles would be the one to reach out first—holding hands while walking, offering a spontaneous hug, or placing a comforting hand on their partner's back during a conversation. › playful gestures: expect lighthearted touches like a playful nudge, a gentle hair ruffle, or a spontaneous tickle fight. for charles, physical touch is a way to express joy and connection.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › quality time

while charles enjoys being around people, he also deeply values meaningful connections and shared experiences.

› shared passions: charles's partner would often find themselves invited to join in his hobbies, whether it's playing music, trying out new sports, or getting competitive with video games. it's about sharing his passions and creating a sense of togetherness. › focused attention: charles would truly be present—putting away phones, minimizing distractions, and actively engaging in conversation or shared activities. › creating memories: more than material things, charles would value creating lasting memories with their partner. this could involve anything from spontaneous road trips and exploring new places to quiet evenings in with heartfelt conversations.

ʚ・lando norris

⟢ how he loves › gift giving

lando has a playful and somewhat mischievous personality. he seems to enjoy surprising people and making them laugh, and gift-giving might be a natural extension of that.

› thoughtful surprises: lando wouldn't just give generic gifts. he'd put effort into finding something unique, quirky, or personalized that would genuinely delight his partner. it's about the element of surprise and showing he cares enough to go the extra mile. › spontaneous gestures: don't be surprised if lando randomly shows up with a small "just because" gift, like their favorite snack, a funny gadget, or something related to an inside joke. it's his way of showing affection and keeping things interesting. › experiences as gifts: instead of material things, lando might gift experiences, like tickets to a concert, a weekend getaway, or even something adventurous like skydiving. it's about creating shared memories and adding excitement to the relationship.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › word of affirmation

despite his confident and often joking exterior, lando likely values genuine encouragement and positive feedback.

› public acknowledgment: lando might appreciate it when his partner publicly expresses their support or admiration, whether it's through social media, in interviews, or simply by being present and cheering him on at races. › verbal encouragement: hearing words of encouragement and belief, especially during challenging times or after setbacks, would likely mean a lot to lando. it's about knowing his partner has his back and believes in his abilities. › appreciation for his efforts: lando puts a lot of effort into his career and his personal brand. his partner acknowledging and appreciating his hard work, dedication, and achievements would likely make him feel valued and understood.

ʚ・oscar piastri

⟢ how he loves › acts of service

oscar seems practical and focused, and this likely extends to his relationships. he's probably less about grand gestures and more about showing love through helpful actions and support.

› taking initiative: oscar wouldn't wait to be asked for help. he'd notice things that need to be done and take care of them, whether it's fixing something around the house, running errands, or helping his partner with a task. › problem-solving: if his partner is facing a challenge or feeling stressed, oscar would likely jump in to help find solutions and offer practical support. he's someone who likes to take action and make things better. › behind-the-scenes support: oscar might not be the most vocal about his affection, but he'd show it through consistent, reliable support. he'd be the one quietly ensuring things run smoothly and his partner feels cared for.

⟢ how he likes to be loved › gifts

and while oscar might not be materialistic, receiving thoughtful gifts could be a significant way for him to feel loved and appreciated.

› meaningful tokens: it wouldn't be about the monetary value; it's the thought behind the gift that matters. a small item that relates to a shared memory, a handwritten note, or something that reflects his interests would likely make him feel seen and understood. › acts of service as gifts: oscar might appreciate gifts that make his life easier or show that his partner is thinking of his needs. this could be something practical like a gadget he's been wanting, a subscription to a service he'd enjoy, or even just a home-cooked meal after a long day. › surprise gestures: while he might not be one for grand romantic gestures, oscar would likely appreciate small, unexpected gifts that show he's being thought of. it's about the spontaneity and the gesture itself, more than the gift itself.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

Wait, what?

Bucky x pregnant reader 

A/N: My first request ever from @slutforsexyseabass this made me so happy, I LOVE concepts like this. Such a sucker for hidden relationships, I hope I did this justice, I will 100% rewrite this if you imagined it differently. I loved this concept SO much, I wrote this with three different endings. What the hell is wrong with me? Everything :) Cutest concept ever, thank you for this. Please like, comment and reblog <3 

Warnings: Angst and fluff!! Pregnancy, swearing Word count: 3.9k  (I’m so sorry, i just kept adding each time I imagined the ending differently) 

Back story + baby Barnes (sort of part 2?)

I do (again) part 3?

4 months ago

“Are you sure you want this?”

You sighed, having spent the last hour trying to convince Fury to let you transfer to a desk job. Granted, it was an odd request coming from you because you loved your role as an Avenger and you had sworn you wouldn’t leave the job for anything else.

“Is there a specific reason you want to transfer agent?” He gave you a pointed look, clearly insinuating he already knew why you wanted this transfer.

“I-its for the best, at least for a little while” You fiddled with a pen on his desk, looking all around the room, avoiding eye contact. Fury nodded, you knew he knew.

“Alright. I’ll approve it. You understand when you transfer, visits and interactions with your teammates are not permitted under any circumstances. How does 1 year and 9 months sound?”

Your face heated up, as you chuckled, nodding. “It sounds perfect. Thank you” You made your way to the door with your transfer starting immediately.  

“Congratulations Agent. To you and Mr. Barnes”  

Keep reading

Reporter: "how much did it change overnight because there seems a big difference in the performance?"

Max:"a lot"

Reporter:"can u elaborate in terms of what?"

Max:"no! I might get fined or get an extra day so"

Reporter:"well are you confident max uhh with the race pace?"

Max:"maybe"

Reporter:"I mean how much of a step into the unknown is the race given the problems you had yesterday in practice?"

Max:"it's an unknown yep!"

Reporter:"tell us about lining up-?"

Max:"this is not towards you , don't worry I don't want to upset you"

slow mo miami max

Through The Looking Glass

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Lea Willems - Verstappen (OC)

Summary: Max Verstappen and his wife’s relationship as told by Twitter. 

Notes: So this came about, because I was on Instagram and looked at pictures from Alexandra Saint Mleux and was like…so what if a driver’s girlfriend looked more like me and less like her? 

Then it became a whole thing, and I went down a rabbit’s hole about people online boyshaming athletes’ wives and girlfriends. This is the result. Also, it’s incredible difficult to even find aesthetic pictures to use in a smau that depict women that are even just mid-size, not even plus size. As a in-between girlie, I tried my best.  

(Also I finally made a nice Lea 😂 I know somebody who will be very glad about that.)

Warnings: The internet being a horrible place. Nikita Mazepin bashing, but like…he is canonically a horrible person, so is it even bashing? Bodyshaming, fatphobic comments and the media being horrible. If I missed something, please let me know. 

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

@/gridarchives: The most underrated long game in F1 history is how everyone thought Max Verstappen’s marriage wouldn’t last. 

How Max and Lea Verstappen went from “mad max mistake” to “paddock’s power couple”. A thread: 

@/gridarchives: Let’s start with the basics: Max Emilian Verstappen, born 30 September 1997 in Hasselt, raised in Maaseik, Belgium. Lea Willems, born 12 April 1997, raised in Maaseik. 

@/gridarchives: They met as kids. Both came from racing families — Lea’s older brother ran the local karting rink where Max used to train. They were inseparable. They met at 8. Were dating by 14. Married at 18.

@/gridarchives: 2015 — Max’s F1 debut. Lea’s still in school. Doesn’t follow him to every race. Doesn't start an Instagram. Doesn’t chase a spotlight.

They do long-distance. Quietly.

And when he gets his first victory in 2016, she’s the one waiting in the garage. Not in the VIP suite. Just… there.

@/gridarchives:  max is 18. Fresh off a win in Barcelona. Deep in his Mad Max era—aggressive on track, icy in interviews, throwing elbows and collecting penalties like candy.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, He marries his high school girlfriend.

And announced it on Instagram: 

@/gridarchives:  Red Bull had no idea. Reportedly, Christian Horner found out when the rest of the world did.

 Max showed up to the next debrief wearing a ring.

 When asked about it, he just shrugged and said, “We got married.” Like it was no big deal.

@/gridarchives:  Cue chaos. The media ripped it apart.

“Too young.” “Too fast.” “Is she pregnant?” “He’s ruining his focus.” Lea was called everything from clingy to irrelevant. She never said a word in response.

@/gridarchives: The Internet:

“This won’t last” “teenage hormones” “he’s too immature” “What is he even doing getting married?” “career suicide” “She’s just a karting fling, right?”

@/gridarchives:  After the announcement, the backlash wasn’t just about the when. It became about the who.

 The internet took one look at Lea Willems — now Lea Verstappen — and collectively lost its mind.

And not in a good way.

@/gridarchives: She didn’t look like what people expected. She wasn’t tall and wafer-thin. Wasn’t a size 0. She didn’t wear designer brands. She wasn’t a model, or a socialite, or someone famous in her own right. Wasn’t doing sponsored beauty campaigns or sitting front row at fashion week. She was a normal teenage girl who had the audacity to exist beside the fastest boy in the world. And that wasn’t enough for some people.

@/gridarchives: They called her fat.

They called her plain.

They called her a phase. 

They called her “a distraction.” They said she was “a mistake made by a hormonal teenager.”

@/gridarchives: Some actual headlines from 2017:

“The Wife Verstappen Doesn’t Want You to Know About” Like she was a scandal, not a person.

“Not Exactly A Model Marriage” “Can Verstappen Do Better Off Track?” “Too Much Wife, Not Enough Wow”

because she wasn’t a size 0, because she didn’t wear makeup, because she had hips and curves and didn’t fit the “WAG” mould.

@/gridarchives: It wasn’t just tabloids.

Comment sections. Fan forums. Reddit threads.

People picked apart her weight, her clothes, and her posture. Zoomed in on photos to circle “problem areas.” Compared her side-by-side with other girlfriends in the paddock like it was a contest.

@/gridarchives:  And she never defended herself. Not once. She didn’t clap back. Didn’t give an interview. Didn’t even post a Notes app statement. She just stayed by his side. Quiet. Steady. Private. Which, of course, only made them nastier.

@/gridarchives:  Comment sections were disgusting. Fashion blogs ripped her apart. Paddock gossip accounts used blurred photos of her in jeans and sneakers with headlines like:

“This is the woman who tamed F1’s hottest young star?” It was sexist. It was fatphobic. It was constant.

@/gridarchives: Two headlines from 2017:

“Not Quite Paddock-Ready: The Woman Behind Verstappen’s Downfall” Another: “The Weight of Love: Can Max Stay Focused With Her Around?”

It was cruel. Dehumanizing. And relentless.

@/gridarchives:  She wasn’t flashy. She didn’t care about glam paddock fashion. She wore baggy Red Bull hoodies and old Adidas. She didn’t post bikini pics. She didn’t post at all. She still doesn’t even have an Instagram account.  And for some reason, that made people furious.

@/gridarchives:  And it all came to a head in Malaysia. 2017. Max won his second career race. It was one of his best weekends. And then… that interview happened.

@/gridarchives: The interviewer, midway through what was supposed to be a fluff piece, decided to get clever.

“Now that you're a more high-profile name, have you ever thought of… upgrading the wife situation a bit?”

“I mean, she’s not exactly the grid’s most glamorous, is she?”

@/gridarchives:  Max went completely still. Didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. The silence lasted a full 5 seconds—uncomfortable, searing.

Then he stood up. Took off the mic. And walked out.

Didn’t say a word.

@/gridarchives:  Red Bull PR went into meltdown. The outlet tried to backpedal, claiming it was a joke. But Max? He was done. Hasn’t given that outlet a single interview since. Won’t speak to that journalist. Won’t allow access. Nothing. Complete blackout.

@/gridarchives:  When asked about it later, he said only: “I’ve tolerated a lot of things in this sport. Insults. Pressure. Hate. But you don’t get to insult my wife. Ever.”

And that was that.

@/gridarchives:  For nearly three years afterwards, Max refused to answer any questions about Lea. No interviews. No comments. If asked, he would shut it down with the same two words:

“No comment.” Sometimes cold. Sometimes biting. Always final.

@/gridarchives:  At one point in 2018, a reporter tried to ask about Lea’s “lack of media polish” during a press conference. Max didn’t flinch. Just stared them down and said: “Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth.” The room went silent.

@/gridarchives:  He wasn’t just protecting her—he was making a point. If the world couldn’t treat her with basic respect, it didn’t get to know her.

@/gridarchives:  Max Verstappen might be aggressive on track. But when it comes to her? He’s pure protection. No compromise. No apology.

@/gridarchives: Till this day, Max rarely posts about Lea on his Instagram.  And when he does, he shuts the comments off. Not for the attention. Not for the aesthetic. But because the internet has never deserved her.

@/gridarchives:  Once a year. Maybe twice. Usually on her birthday. Or their anniversary. Or something small and intimate—like a quiet photo of her walking ahead of him, holding their son’s hand, not even looking at the camera.

@/gridarchives: And the comments? Disabled. Every time.

 Not to avoid backlash. But to cut it off before it starts.

@/gridarchives: A fan once asked in a Q&A why he disables comments.

Max said, “Because she didn’t ask for this. And if you’re going to look at her, you’ll do it with respect. Or not at all.”

@/gridarchives: He protects her like he protects his lead on the final lap— With focus. With fire. With zero margin for error.

Because that’s love, in Max Verstappen’s language.

Not public declarations. But boundaries.

@/gridarchives: And then came one of the wildest moments of the 2021 season that never made Drive to Survive:  

@/gridarchives:  mid-2021. Tensions are sky-high. Max and Lewis are locked in one of the most intense title battles in F1 history. Every race is war. Every point counts. And through all of it, Lea is quietly there. Present. Steady. Visibly keeping her distance from the media.

@/gridarchives:  But as the summer break ends, rumours start. Whispers online. Tabloids are posting unflattering shots of Lea in the paddock. Comments like:

“Max’s wife letting herself go?” “Not paddock pretty.” “What happened to her figure?” And then… Nikita Mazepin opens his mouth.

@/gridarchives:  Overheard at a hospitality lounge, according to multiple sources: Mazepin, laughing with some junior sponsor rep, said: “No wonder Max is driving angry. Imagine going home to that every night.” Gesturing toward Lea.

Someone told Max.

@/gridarchives:  That weekend, Max cornered Mazepin. Not at the press. Not on camera. But behind the motorhomes. Multiple witnesses said you could hear him yelling. But the only quote that’s ever been confirmed?

“Talk about her again, and I’ll end your career before your car does.”

@/gridarchives:  Mazepin reportedly tried to laugh it off. Max didn’t flinch. Didn’t joke. Just turned and walked away—straight back to Red Bull. Team management never commented.

@/gridarchives: And then came the Instagram post: 

@/gridarchives:  The internet went feral. F1 media tried to scramble for quotes. But Max didn’t say another word. Not about the incident. Not about the pregnancy. He just showed up at the next race and put the car on pole.

@/gridarchives: And then? Abu Dhabi 2021. The title fight went down to the wire. 

@/gridarchives: According to multiple team sources, Lea stood quietly at the back of the garage the entire race. Didn’t pace. Didn’t panic. Just watched. Hands on her baby bump. When asked if she was nervous, she reportedly said:

“Why would I be? He was born for this.”

@/gridarchives:  A Red Bull mechanic was overheard saying, “I’ve seen engineers cry. I’ve seen Horner nearly faint. But Lea? Lea stood there like it was a normal Thursday.”

@/gridarchives:  When Nicholas Latifi crashed and the safety car came out, most of the paddock erupted into chaos. Lea? Sat down. Ate half a banana. Said, “He’ll take it. You’ll see.” Then leaned back like she knew something the universe didn’t.

@/gridarchives:  After the race, everyone was losing their minds. Celebrating. Crying. Lea? Still calm. Still glowing. Walked through the crowd, straight to Max. Hugged him. Kissed him. Whispered something in his ear.

No one knows what she said. But he started crying.

@/gridarchives:  Someone once asked Max what got him through that day. He said, Seeing my wife. Knowing she was there. If she was calm, I had no excuse not to be.”

@/gridarchives: Two months later, Max did maybe the funniest thing he has ever done:  announcing he became a father during a random team redline stream like it was a tire strategy update.

@/gridarchives:  February 2022. pre-season. Max is on a team redline stream.  Chat is flying. Comms are chill. He’s driving like a demon. And then someone asks why he missed the previous session.

@/gridarchives:  And Max, completely calm, goes: “Yeah, sorry, I was a bit busy. My son was born that day.”

Another driver on comms:

“Wait—WHAT?” “You had the baby?”

max: “Yeah. His name’s Kai.” casually overtakes three cars

@/gridarchives: Someone in the background (probably Jeffrey Rietveld) goes:

“Max, did you just soft-launch your child mid-race??”

Max:

“He’s perfect. Looks just like his mum.”

Icon. Legend. Zero chill. Zero Press. Just vibes.

@/gridarchives: Chat went FERAL. Clips instantly went viral. F1 Twitter lost its mind. Red Bull PR had to play catch-up for days.

@/gridarchives:  Barcelona 2022. Two months after Max casually announced the birth of his son mid-sim-racing stream, he walked into the paddock in black sunglasses, a Red Bull hoodie, and a baby carrier.

@/gridarchives: Inside the carrier: a tiny, snoozing Kai Verstappen, 8 weeks old. Wearing noise-cancelling headphones and a Red Bull baby onesie. Strapped to Max’s chest like the calmest accessory in the world.

“My son’s first race,” Max said. “He should get used to the noise early.”

@/gridarchives: Lea was right beside him. Soft jeans, a linen shirt, hair up, a tote bag with what was presumably enough diapers to survive a national emergency. No makeup. No fuss. The quiet core of a very loud world.

They looked like a family on a casual stroll. Not the title favourites in the middle of a high-stakes season.

@/gridarchives: The media tried to swarm. Max didn’t stop walking. Lea didn’t even blink.

@/gridarchives: A Sky reporter asked if he was more nervous racing now that he had a kid. Max said, “No. I’ve always raced to win. Now I just get a hug either way.” 

And then he smiled. Like a real one. And the internet broke.

@/gridarchives:  He won that race, btw. Then went straight back to the garage to take Kai out of the headphones and kiss his forehead.

“He slept through the whole thing,” he told Sky Sports, grinning. 

@/gridarchives: But Max wasn’t done for 2022. When the FIA banned jewellery in 2022, Max Verstappen responded by getting his wedding ring tattooed on. 

@/gridarchives:  So the FIA updated their rules: no jewellery in the car. No earrings. No chains. No rings. Supposedly for safety. Cue half the grid complaining, Lewis dragging them in interviews, and Max just going radio silent.

For about a week.

@/gridarchives:  Then someone spots it. On the Thursday of the next GP. A thin, clean tattoo around Max’s ring finger. Black ink. No embellishments. Just a simple band.

Someone asks about it, and Max goes: “The rule said I had to take the ring off. Didn’t say I couldn’t make it permanent.”

@/gridarchives:  Someone else asks if it hurt. “Not as much as leaving it off.”

@/gridarchives: Bonus: Christian Horner was reportedly told after the fact: 

“Max walked in, took his gloves off, and I saw the ink. I said, ‘Is that what I think it is?’ He said, ‘FIA can’t ban skin.’”

@/gridarchives: Let’s also talk about how much Max’s family loves Lea: 

@/gridarchives: Let’s start with Jos Verstappen. A man who, famously, trusts no one. But when asked once in a Dutch interview about his son’s success, he said:

“Max has two advantages. His talent. And Lea.” “She makes him better. She makes him calm.”

from Jos. That’s practically a sonnet.

@/gridarchives: Sophie Kumpen, Max’s mum, was the first to believe in Max & Lea. Sources say she knew from the start that Lea was “good for him.”

In a rare interview, Sophie said: “She’s grounded. She sees Max for who he really is—not the driver, not the number. The boy. The man. She’s calm. I like calm.” Mothers know. Mothers see.

@/gridarchives:  Then there’s Victoria Verstappen, Max’s sister. Fashion, fitness, mama of three—loved by fans. Has repeatedly said that she considers Lea a sister, not an in-law.

“She’s my family. Has been since we were teenagers. We grew up side by side. I trust her with everything.”

@/gridarchives: And they were all fiercely protective of her during the years. According to a Dutch journalist, Jos once called an editor directly and said, “Write another headline about her weight, and I’ll see you in court.” #DadEnergy

@/gridarchives:  Victoria has posted maybe a dozen photos with Lea in the past decade—quiet, untagged, casual: 

@/gridarchives: And every single time, without fail, the comments are a mess. Bodyshaming. Comparisons. “She’s not hot enough.” “Why does she look tired?” The usual sexist, vile garbage.

@/gridarchives: But Victoria? She’s not having it.

“You don’t get to speak about my family that way.” “If you wouldn’t say it about yourself or your sister, don’t say it here.” “Delete this comment and never come back.”

“Take your body issues elsewhere”

“You must be exhausted being this bitter online”

That’s in the comments. Publicly. Repeatedly.

@/gridarchives: At one point in 2021, she even posted a story about it: 

@/gridarchives: I am not done. Lea Verstappen is as much a part of Red Bull Racing as any race engineer or strategist.

Here’s what the people behind the scenes have said about her

@/gridarchives: Christian Horner (2017) – early days: “Max keeps his private life very private. We respect that. I’ve only met Lea a few times, but she seems like a lovely, grounded young woman.” (translation: Who is this girl and where did she come from?)

@/gridarchives: Christian Horner (2023) – post-Kai, post-3 world driver’s championship titles: “Lea’s been the calm in Max’s storm. She doesn’t need to be in front of the cameras to make an impact. She’s the reason he’s still sharp. Still here.”

@/gridarchives: Gianpiero Lambiase (GP), Max’s race engineer: “Lea is Max’s reset button. I’ve seen him go from zero to rage and back to calm in under a minute because of one text from her. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t need to.” Iconic.

@/gridarchives: Helmut Marko (2023): “I thought she’d be a distraction when they got married. I was wrong. She’s the opposite of a distraction. She made him… sharper. More dangerous, in a good way.” (yes. Helmut Marko said that.)

@/gridarchives: Red Bull comms team (2022), anonymously: “Lea has never, not once, asked for press management. No image control. No story spin. Her only request was: Don’t use Kai for content. And she said it so kindly, we printed it and taped it to the media room wall.”

@/gridarchives: Jonathan Wheatley (2022), Former Red Bull Sporting Director:  “She’s the one person I’ll never say no to in the garage. She brings us banana bread and keeps Max from threatening to move to endurance racing when he’s moody.”

@/gridarchives: One mechanic from Red Bull’s pit crew (2020): “When the media was tearing her apart in ’17, she brought us coffee in the garage.  No cameras. Just said, ‘Thanks for looking after him.’ I’ve worked 200+ races. That’s the only thank you I still remember.”

@/gridarchives: And the thing is? None of these quotes comes from trying to promote her. Lea has never once been part of the brand. She’s not a Red Bull ambassador. Not an image. Just a quiet presence who everyone, from Horner to the interns, has come to respect.

@/gridarchives And it’s not just Red Bull. Ask around the entire grid, and the way people talk about Lea Verstappen is with quiet awe.

@/gridarchives: Lewis Hamilton (2022): “She doesn’t show up for the cameras. She shows up for him. You can tell—there’s real love there. Real quiet. Real strong. I respect that.”

@/gridarchives: Daniel Ricciardo (2023): “Lea’s been around longer than most of the guys on the grid have even had race seats. She’s part of the Verstappen firmware. Comes with the engine. And her banana bread is terrifyingly good. Like… disarm-a-grown-man good.”

@/gridarchives: Charles Leclerc (2021):  “She used to sit on the karting fences next to my mum. Always quiet. Always watching. People talk about Max changing over the years, but I think the best parts of him were always there. She just kept them safe.”

@/gridarchives: And then there’s Kai. Lea and Max’s son. Now a paddock regular with noise-cancelling headphones and strong opinions.

@/gridarchives: A little boy who adores his parents… and who calls Daniel Ricciardo “Uncle Danny”.  Who calls Oscar Piastri “Car” and hugs his leg when he’s tired. (Oscar panics every time.) Who once tried to drive Lewis’s scooter, and Lewis let him.

@/gridarchives: It’s been almost ten years since Max and Lea Verstappen got married. They’ve weathered the spotlight. The storms. The silence. The wins.The losses The noise. The pressure. And through it all, they’ve never wavered.

@/gridarchives: Lea has never given an interview. Never done a press tour. Never gone on a podcast. There is no tell-all memoir. No YouTube vlog. No WAG content series.

Just: banana bread, Red Bull hoodies, and a quiet kind of grace that broke the mould.

@/gridarchives: Lea Verstappen didn’t come to the paddock to be famous. She didn’t come to be seen. She came to stand beside the boy she loved at 14— Who became a man. A world champion. A father.

And she never once let the world shake her.

@/gridarchives Max Verstappen doesn’t perform love. He protects it. And Lea Verstappen? She’s not just the woman behind the champion. She’s the reason he stayed human in a sport that tries to turn people into machines.

@/gridarchives: People tried to ignore her. Then tried to ridicule her. And when that didn’t work, they tried to erase her.

But she’s still here. Still Lea. Still standing exactly where she always has— Right next to Max.

@gridarchives Power couple doesn’t even cover it. Max & Lea Verstappen? They built something that lasted.

And in Formula 1? That’s rarer than a clean lap around Monaco in the wet.

Salt in the wound

a/n: go and listen to Salt in the wound by Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus.

summary: After Stephen's accident you try to take care of him but he constantly crosses the line with you. One day he adds too much salt into your wound.

pairing: Stephen Strange x f!reader

warnings: angst, angst, angst, hurt no comfort.

You walked into his New York apartment where the now-familiar smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey hung around. Piles of dirty and mostly broken dishes were the only thing on the kitchen counter. The man you loved was sitting at the table struggling to hold a pen.

“Let me help you” you said softly and approached him.

“No!” he yelled at you. You weren’t used to this, to him treating you like this. “Go. Away.” he snapped.

“I brought you some food” you sighed. You placed take-out Chinese food from his favourite restaurant in front of him. “I’m gonna clean a bit so you can rest” you send him a shy smile.

“Are you deaf or supid?” for the first time in a few days his eyes connected with yours. “You graduated from medical school at the top of your class so I suggest that you should visit a laryngologist. Dr Cronan, right?” you have never heard so much hatred in his voice. You stood there practically speechless.

“Stephen, I-, look” before you were able to finish he interrupted you.

“Can’t you form a fucking sentence?” he shouted “Poor y/n, feels the need to take care of the guy who she’s been fucking for a few months. Watch out, I might even cry” he continued.

Cruel silence filled the room, the only sound was coming from cold rain beating on large windows. You analysed his face and immediately realised that there isn’t even a slight sign of regret. He meant exactly what he said.

“Look” You took a deep breath “I know that your job was what gave your life meaning, something that made you feel complete, but there are other things that can give your life meaning” you said and came a little closer to him and tried to touch his face but before you were able to do so he pushed your hand away.

“Like what? You?” he scoffed. “You don’t mean a thing to me!” he yelled into your face. A loud thunderclap echoed in the room at the same moment as your heart broke into pieces. You loved him, you truly did. He used to be a beam of light in your day, but now, you couldn’t recognize him.

“This is the part where you apologise” you said.

“This is the part where you leave” he responded.

You took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. You closed your eyes and felt a tear falling down your cheek.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Eight months ago, after a thirteen hours-long operation, two brilliant neurosurgeons, you and Stephen, sat down on the floor of the operation room and laughed about the facial expression of the guy they just saved.

“God, I'm starving” you said in between laughs.

“Would you like to get out of here? I know a phenomenal Chinese restaurant a few blocks away” he offered.

“Only if you are paying” you playfully smacked his arm.

“It’s a date then” he smirked and helped you to get up.

It was late November night, and the streets of New York were almost empty. You walked next to him chatting about stuff you two liked. You were surprised you two had so much in common. Even though you were extremely tired, the night went smoothly and the food was truly phenomenal. When you two finally decided to leave the restaurant you noticed that the snow was falling.

“It’s the first fall of snow this year” you smiled and he came a little closer to you. Slow music from the restaurant you just left was playing in the background.

“Before you go, may I steal one dance from you?” he asked.

“How could I refuse such an offer?” you smirked.

He placed one hand on your waist and with the other grabbed yours. You were slowly dancing around, pretending that the world did not exist. He watched your face and how it glistened as the snow fell on it. He let go of your waist and carefully tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” he asked shyly. Instead of saying anything, you leaned in. That was the beginning of it all.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“Loving you Stephen is a prison and I was willing to buy my own chain” you whispered “I tried, I really did but I can’t handle this anymore” your eyes locked again with his. “This is a goodbye” you stated.

Deep down you wanted him to say that he’s sorry, that he’s going to change, that he needs you. You wanted to hear once again how much he loves you and how important you are but you knew that this is not going to happen. You grabbed your bag from the counter and left his apartment, walked into the lift and sighed deeply. Your world had just fallen apart but the one around you had to maintain peace. You put your sling ring on your fingers and drew a portal Sanctum Sanctorum where you were Master of the Mystic Arts and more importantly Sorceress Supreme.

MASTERLIST