Proof That It's The Little Things (and People) In Oscar's Life That Make Him Happiest

proof that it's the little things (and people) in Oscar's life that make him happiest

Cuffing Szn

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he suddenly seemed upse, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and you widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you well. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

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tammyfortis

1 year ago

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

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tammyfortis

9 months ago

The Red Baron ♦

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tammyfortis

8 months ago

Crash into my life - Lance Stroll x Civil Servent! Reader

Plot: You work in a fancy government job, pretty boring 9-5 but Lance Stroll and his insurance claim makes your job that little bit better

Your job wasn’t exactly fun, wasn’t exactly boring. It was one of those jobs that you’d got it at a young age and worked your way up through the ranks as you’d got better and better and because it was safe and something you were good at you stuck with it.

To keep it short and sweet you were a civil servant. Not like 007 kind of crazy stuff but you did work for MI6 in their fraud, tax and insurance department.

You basically took over insurance claims that were over a certain threshold and had to go through the government for … whatever reason whether they are a foreign National claiming in the UK or something.

Usually it was boring matters such as Chelsea Football Club claiming compensation for things as simple as water damages etc. You didn’t even really get to see anyone, you had the data and you analysed it against the scenario and hey presto you made your pay out.

Your favourite time of the year was winter. More claims came through and life was more unpredictable thanks to the whether. Delayed train into London St Pancreas? No tubes working so you have to make the 20 minute walk to your office building from the station. Slipping on ice, it was the only excitement you got in life which was honestly kind of sad.

For you it started at as a normal Monday. You woke up at 7am, brushed your teeth, got into a nice corporate appropriate outfit, got on the train, got a coffee from Pret before heading into your building.

That was your routine, and you didn’t often differ from it unless you had holiday booked. But working a 9-5 Monday - Friday often meant that you

But it felt like there was a different buzz today around the building like there was something going on.

When you all went into the morning briefing for the cases you’d get today, everyone was way too excited for 9am and the start of the day. You sat down next to your office buddy Shiv and looked around confused.

“What in earth is going on with everyone?” You ask looking over at Shiv who’s typing away on her laptop taking in information.

“Apparently there’s some really interesting cases to work on up for grabs today” she explains and you nod knowing once every blue moon some exciting things would crop up and have the whole office acting like kids on Christmas.

You’re all still waiting for the department boss to come in, joining in conversations about what could possibly be happening today.

“Ladies and Gents please take a seat for the meeting to commence. Thank you. Thank you” he offers smiling and everyone gets comfy.

“So we’ve got some exciting stuff today. I’ve formed a team to deal with the Train Networks Claim, that’ll be Shiv, Brayden and Ravi” he says and they all nod writing in their pads what tasks they’d have to do today.

He went through all of them apart from you, before dismissing the meeting. You were slightly confused and therefore packed up yours things a little slower than everyone else to see if you could stay behind and ask why you hadn’t been given an assignment.

“Y/N could you stay behind so I can talk to you for a moment” he asks and you nod, going to the end of the long conference table where he was stood.

“I like you, you’re young and learn quickly and I want you to progress more than you already have so I’m giving you a really important case. You’ll actually get to meet the said person affected, he’s … of high value so be considerate of your wording when talking to him. Alright thank you, here’s the case! Have a report to me by Friday” he offers and you nod happily. You take a seat opening up the material seeing the name of the claimer immediately.

Lance Stroll

You read through the facts, apparently he crashed his Aston Martin driving down the M1 to get to Silverstone into some sort of government van.

After analysing some of the data yourself, a knock comes on your office door from one of the younger interns.

“Erm, Y/N there’s two men in suits here to see you?” She asks rather than tells you, it wasn’t common for people to come in and out of the building due to the confidentiality of the work conducted here.

“Send them in please, but before you do ask them if they want anything. Tea, Coffee, Water” you smile and go back to reading another report from a police officer who was on the scene of the accident.

You watch as two men walk into your office space. One looking younger maybe the same age as you and one looking significantly older which you assumed was the dad.

“Good morning” you smile lightly before going back to some data on your computer. They took a seat, patiently waiting for you to address them.

Lawrence, who you’d just read about in the report who was indeed the father, cleared his throat as if to get your attention.

“Give me one minute Mr Stroll and I’ll be right with you” you smile, still nose in your computer.

“We’ve come all this way to the city centre to see you it would be appreciated if you didn’t waste our time” he huffs and even just from this reaction a bubbling of excitement started in you, just at the promise of actually seeing a client and talking to them in the flesh.

“I understand that, but I won’t be able to tell you much unless I see all the data” you say looking up at them through your glasses. This time you notice Lance and how he’s just sort of staring at you.

“Can I help you Mr Stroll?” You ask looking over him.

“No, I’m all good. Take your time” he smiles and you nod. In 5 minutes you believe you’ve combed through enough data to talk to them.

“This is awfully interesting I almost never get to see the people behind the claim” you smile happily and they both nod.

“Okay so so far from what I can see is there was a crash in your vintage Aston Martin that was for an event at Silverstone, the race track and that you got into a collision with a government van trailing a foreign national?” You ask.

“In short terms, yes … but” Lawrence tries to declare.

“And you weren’t present Mr Stroll” you say looking in the direction of the older man.

“No I wasn’t” he huffs out.

“Okay, then I will ask you to just step out my office while I get an account of the events from your son, if that’s alright with you. Just down the corridor there’s a waiting room there, help yourself to the food and drink in there” you smile hoping to butter him up a little to get him out.

“Alright” he says before taking his leave.

“Okay Mr Stroll lets…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Lance, please just call me Lance” he offers and you nod.

“Well Lance, it’s not … looking great” you start of slowly and he looks at you shocked.

“What do you mean? Your guys went into me?” He says raising his voice slightly and you give him a stern look that has him sinking into his seat.

“Don’t come into my office and raise your voice when I’m doing my best to help you!” You exclaim placing a pad in front of him.

“Sorry it’s just that my dad isn’t happy already that i totalled a car that was needed for race day” he sighs rubbing his temples.

“Ahhh so you’re an F1 driver. Or is it NASCAR because of the accent?” You ask and he looks shocked as if you were supposed to know who he was.

“Er F1” he offers and you nod.

“You any good?” You ask writing done some more notes as you watch the camera on the government vehicle as Lance’s car didn’t have one.

“Excuse me?” He chokes out and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I mean im currently looking at your claims for a super car that you totalled and so I can’t help but ask if your any good” you tease and once he heard the tone he gets it and just rolls his eyes.

“Oh haha laugh it up” he says and you do.

“Im sorry but this is quite possibly the most fun I’ve ever had in this job. It’s rather boring most days so I’m just making the most of it” you smile and he smiles back.

“Okay I can see that they did in fact turn into you. And of course I’m here for the people. The issue is where your Canadian. I can pay out what the car was worth when you originally brought it, but 50,000 for the fact that it was an accident on our part” you say and he thinks for a moment.

“No” is all he says and you look over at him in shock.

“Sorry? What do you mean no, no is my final decision” you say crossing your arms.

“I would like to add something else to the 50,000 on top of the car value” he smiles and you nod, wondering what it could possibly be and admiring the boldness of his statement.

“Id like to take you out to dinner” he smirks and your head shoots up from your laptop.

“I- i cant do that… it’s not professional. I could get told off. I could loose my job.” you admit knowing that if people were to find out about your payout and think it was bad then they’d be asking questions to you.

“Oh come on it’s just dinner to say thank you for being so … helpful” he smiles leaning forward in his seat and you shake your head.

“Fine, dinner it is” you smile.

That was the start of something way bigger than just dinner.

y/user

Liked by lance_stroll and others

y/user: Work has been rather interesting lately 👀🏎️

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lance_stroll: thank you for having another look for me 👍🏼

-> y/user: 🫣you’re welcome Mr Stroll

-> lance_stroll: you’re making me feel old ☹️

user: is that whose car I think it is bestie?

-> y/user: it sure is 🏎️

user: need to catch up soon babe, Pret tomorrow morning?

-> y/user: sure thing!

user: Civil Service < Serving Cu*t 🥰

Instagram Story Caption:

Back in the Office wiv Shiv 🌸

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tammyfortis

2 years ago

WAG-In-Training - Jude Bellingham.

Summary: Reader is insecure about her capabilities of being a WAG and feeling like she doesn’t fit in, especially after seeing the others at the World Cup.

Warnings: Insecurities, body image issues, brief mentions of lack of eating,very angsty.

A/n: please comment and reblog if you’d like too, i love to hear your feedback <3

Y/f/n = your friends name

You were ushered quickly into the stadium after giving Jude a quick good luck kiss when he got off the team bus.

The girlfriends of the other England players were surrounding you, all taking pictures of the stadium and pitch, some ushering their kids in with them.

The initial noise put you on edge slightly, your fingers itching to play with something as the nerves grow inside you.

You play with the hem of the blue and white football shirt Jude had given you to wear, his number and surname printed proudly on the back.

“You should tie that up, it would look so cute” Lucia, Marcus’ fiancée, says to you sweetly as you bite your lip looking at all the people in their seats.

You look in her eyes before looking at all of the other WAGs, their shirts tied into crop tops either at the front or tucked in at the back in an invisible knot.

You look down at yours to see it draping down past your hips, the shirt slightly too big for you, Jude doing it purposefully as he knows that’s how you like to wear his jerseys.

He, of course, prefers it too when you wear them with just your underwear on, the material of his shirts near the middle of your thighs.

Yourself and Lucia had grown quite close, the cruise ship all of the WAGs and families were staying on had placed your rooms next to each other, meaning you spent a lot of time together.

“Yeah, maybe I should” you say, beginning to bunch the shirt up at the front.

“Here, let me” the short girl says as she softly gatherers the material and twists the back together tightly before tucking it under the looser material of the shirt leaving you in a DIY crop top.

“Can you still see his number?” You ask, your priority being to support your boyfriend rather than to look good.

“Yep! You look so hot” she claps her hands together as she looks at you, “picture?” She asks and you laugh before nodding and leaning into her.

She shows you the picture afterwards and you agree, you do look cute.

But no where near as good as the others in the back of the picture.

Their makeup flawless, their hair with not a single strand out of place, their nails done perfectly with fake tan on and not a single hint of patchiness.

You can’t help but sigh leading Lucia to furrow her eyebrows but luckily the security ushering the both of you to sit in your seats distracts her.

You take your seat and cross one leg over the other, your arm naturally crossing over your stomach to hide it.

You feel the skin of your arm touch the skin of your stomach and instantly grow worried.

You look down to see your skin slightly over the edge of the hem of your jeans.

You wince at your appearance before pulling at the folded hem of your shirt and flattening it out back to normal.

“You okay?” Saka’s girlfriend says as he places her hand on your arm from your other side.

You smile at her concern, her being the closest in age to you, you had also grown quite close.

You look at her makeup, hair and nails and immediately feel sad again.

What would Jude think when he looks up to see you next to all these beautiful girls?

You just didn’t think you could compare to them.

“Just cold” you nod at her, a tight lipped smile being forced on your face.

“It’s 30 degrees?” She laughs jokingly at you, her perfect smile never fading.

“Yeah” you laugh awkwardly, thankful when the players come out of the tunnel and the crowd for growing out anything the two girls could’ve said.

You look at Jude and take a few pictures, knowing he’d want to remember his first World Cup regardless of the result.

Being called up at 19 was very impressive, he deserves a better girl, a prettier one, you think.

From your phone screen you see him look up to you and you blow him a kiss.

He furrows his brows at you and you instantly know he can sense something is wrong.

You smile widely at him anyway, a poor attempt to convince him that nothing is wrong.

After only a few minutes, the ball is crossed into the box, the perfect place for your boyfriend to leap forewords and head it into the back of the net.

The crowd instantly erupts into cheers as you witness your boyfriend score his first international goal in the opening match of the World Cup for England.

You jump up from your seat and scream as loud as you can for your boyfriend, clapping and jumping for joy as you watch him open his arms out to the crowd.

The other WAGs around you cheer as well as take pictures of you celebrating your boyfriends goal, happy for you but also happy of the new addition to their group. You not having met Jude before the Euros.

Before Jude joins the rest of players in restarting the game, he looks up to where you’re sat and blows you a kiss.

You catch it and blow him one back making him pretend to catch it and put it on his heart.

The both of you laugh as the WAGs around you ‘aw’ at the two of you young lovers.

The game ends with a brilliant win for England but sadly you aren’t able to see Jude before he’s whisked away on the team bus and driven back to camp.

You sit on your bed in your room for the next month or so, your boss being a football fan so allowing the time off on the promise of a signed shirt from Jude.

A towel wrapped around your body and your hair while you rest on top of the blankets, cooling down.

You pick up your phone and see Jude’s post, liking it and commenting how proud you are of him.

Shortly after, you receive a text.

J 🤍 :

You looked so beautiful tonight, im so happy you came. That goal was for you.

You instantly started smiling and clicked on the notification.

No, that goal was for yourself. Breaking so many records, J. I’m so proud of you and I couldn’t love you anymore.

You type back, the message immediately being marked as ‘read’ and you smile knowing he was sat there waiting for you to reply.

It’s not long before another response comes through.

J 🤍:

I wish I was with you, I didn’t even get a goodbye kiss 🙄

You laugh at his use of emoji before replying.

You know, I would’ve loved to give you one more than anything baby. I’ll see you tomorrow after training, now get some sleep, I know you’re tired.

You swipe out of messages before you get his response so you know he will actually sleep.

After a short while of browsing instagram, you come across an article posted by ‘brfootball’ on your explore page.

You click on the link seeing a picture of you.

Your eyes widen when you see the title.

‘Does England’s Golden Boy deserve better?’

Your brows furrow seeing a picture of you from the match this evening, you taking a picture of Jude when he was on the pitch.

You scroll down to continue reading the article.

‘Y/n Y/l/n, the latest edition to the WAG squad, was seen at tonight’s match with her new beau’s shirt on. Unfortunately for the young lady, it’s clear she doesn’t belong. Her shirt falling below her waist to conceal the curves she may or may not have, the other WAGs however, looking stunning. Their stomachs on show as they clap for their partners, perfectly manicured nails decorating their hands. Yet another thing Miss y/l/n seems to diverge from. I’d like to say she’s a diamond in the rough but unfortunately I think it’s the other way round. This leaves us with the question of whether Jude Bellingham deserves better. Does he? Let us know via our email’

You feel tears sting at your waterline as you read the harsh words.

Quickly you shut off your phone and close your eyes, wishing desperately to fall asleep.

A few weeks later, and the first match back at Dortmund looms.

After that first match at the World Cup, you became more reluctant to go to matches, making excuses that you had to stay at your cruise ship suit to do some work your boss said was essential for you to do.

Jude became slightly suspicious but unfortunately, England was knocked out a few weeks later leading any questions to go unanswered.

“Babe please come to the first match of the season. I need you there” he says, his chin resting on your stomach.

“I’ll see, I’ll probably have work though” you reply, to which his brows furrow and his head lifts from his previous position.

“Take some time off?” He says nonchalantly.

“Jude I’ve already taken a month off to be with you in a whole other country” you reply, your tone still soft but anger bubbling.

“But you told me he still set work for you to do?” He says referring to his boss, you feel slightly caught out yet you don’t want to explain the real reason, fearing that he might realise he does deserve better.

“Well I was away from work, not there at the office where I should have been” you say, anger now in your voice, not at him but yourself.

Why did you have to lie in the first place? Why couldn’t you be as pretty as the others? Why did that article have to be written?

“I’m so sorry that coming to support me was such a chore for you” he says, his voice sarcastic as he pulls himself off your stomach and up on his face, his taller frame seeming slightly threatening as he stands over you, you still laying across the sofa.

“Jude, that’s not what I meant. I mean that I can’t just upend my whole life for you. I have an actual job that I’ve worked hard to get, I can’t constantly ask for time off. That’s not how a real job works, that’s not real life Jude.” You reply, sitting up so he’s less threatening.

“So I don’t do a real job” he says, his voice raising to a shout.

“Not a conventional one, no! You have an easy life, you get paid a ridiculous amount of money to turn up to training for two hours and then come back home. You earn what I earn in a year, in a week, Jude. A week!” You say, your voice at a shout now too.

You don’t know how your insecurities turned into this shouting match but you are damn sure you don’t mean any of the words you are saying. You know his life is hard, you suppose it’s just jealousy.

“Oh yeah my life is so easy. I love getting racially abused for playing for my country. I love getting death threats for putting the ball just slightly wide of the net. You’re right! It’s great!” His voice is filled with sarcasm and disgust as he shouts at you.

Both with the fact that’s a normal reaction for you, from anyone who raises their voice at you, but also for the fact you know he’s right, from the beginning he’s right, yet you just can’t bring yourself to rectify the situation and tell the truth.

“That’s not what I meant Jude, im sorry” you say, your voice softer now yet his still loud one makes you flinch.

“You’re so selfish sometimes. You know what, maybe I don’t need you at the match.” He shouts before storming off upstairs and slamming the bedroom door making you flinch again.

Your eyes don’t move from the floor and the house goes eerily quiet.

Not one of you making any hint of noise.

You always liked peace, yet in this tranquil silence your whole body felt shackled with unrest.

A tear rolled down your face, the cool diamond dancing down your heated skin, leaving a trail of discomfort as the salt solution dried down.

It was at that moment you decided you would be everything Jude needed, wanted even, and more.

After the fight, you went back to your house, the both of you still quite young and not ready to actually live together yet.

You hadn’t spoken other than Jude occasionally asking you whether you were okay.

One thing about that man is that no matter how mad he is at you, he will always make sure you are safe.

Today is match day and you can’t wait to show Jude everything you did for him.

You went and got your nails done, longer than you expected and now you are struggling to function but he doesn’t need to know that.

You got your hair done, and styled to make sure you look perfect.

You also got your makeup done because you thought if you are going all out, you might as well feel confident while doing so.

You put on your most expensive outfit and paired it with Jude’s Dortmund shirt, cropped, before you are out the door.

He doesn’t know you’re coming, he doesn’t even know what you’ve been up to the past two days, yet you have a feeling he’ll be thrilled with what you’ve planned.

You find your usual seat you used to sit at, before the article of course, and waited for the match to begin.

Sunglasses over your eyes the way you saw the other WAGs do during the World Cup.

Despite not feeling the part, you definitely looked the part. And about 5 years older than you are.

Jude noticed you first when he was in the line before the match, the mascot in front of him and the captains armband on his arm.

Your heart drops slightly, you’re the girlfriend of a Captain (or a future captain), you have to start putting maximum effort in now. No doubt about it.

He almost did a double take, not sure whether it was you or not, your usual smiling face replaced with a slight pout, mirroring the other WAGs.

You didn’t see from the distance of the two of you but he furrowed his brows, confusion taking over him.

None the less, he had to focus. The match was what was important.

A few minutes into the match, Jude scored.

The infamous yellow wall erupting into cheers as you stay sat down, clapping gently the same way you saw the other WAGs do. The high profile ones.

Jude looked over to you, about to blow a kiss like he usually does but then he sees you, sat down and looking unimpressed.

So different to how supportive and free you looked during the World Cup.

He missed that you, yet another had seemed to push its way to the front.

You weren’t his you anymore.

You met Jude at your car, having called his mum to ask if you could drive him this time.

She of course said yes, she loves you. So much.

“I’m sorry Jude” you say straight away as he walks towards you, hands in his pockets as he drags his feet towards you.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, i should” he says in response, instantly pulling you in for a hug, his arms enveloping you as his scent fills your senses.

“No. I’ve missed you, so much” you say, your nails scratching the base of his neck.

“Ouch!” He proclaims, jumping away from you slightly.

You pull your hands from behind his neck and look at your ridiculously long nails.

“Sorry” you apologise again.

“I thought you didn’t like acrylic nails?” He asks, your man always asked too many questions, and remembered too many little details about you.

However the latter never fails to warm your heart.

“I thought I’d give it a try” you say, covering your arse yet again.

“Okay” he says, his brows raising and it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you but he moves on.

“Let’s go home” he says as he gets in his side.

“Okay passenger princess. Yours or mine?” you tease him, knowing he hates when you call him that.

“Hey! You know I haven’t had time to learn to drive yet! I’m a busy man with my ‘easy job’ and mine” he quotes you making you both laugh.

After a short drive, you arrive back at his place, two of you looking at a takeaway menu, deciding on what to get to celebrate his win.

“I think I’ll just get a salad” you say, knowing that’s not what you truly want.

“What? Why? You aren’t going for your usual?” Jude asks, he knows how much you love your favourite dish and you rarely eat proper salads as the main meal.

“Just not that hungry” lies. You hadn’t eaten more than a banana in two days.

“Right, okay” Jude sighs, his tone soft but quiet as he looks over the menu.

Your phone starts ringing from its place on the counter making both you and Jude look at it.

“It’s y/f/n , I should take this” you say and Jude nods in approval before you walk into his room for some slightly privacy, with your best friend, you never know what you’re going to get.

“Do you want to tell me why you looked the way you did at tonight’s match?” She says when you pick up.

“Huh?” You say, confused and slightly shocked at how brash she is.

“Why the sunglasses? It’s winter.” She starts.

Fair point

“Why the makeup and hair and clothes? Don’t get me wrong, you looked hot but that isn’t you. I’ve never seen you look like that before” she asks, a normal person might take offence but you know she’s right. That wasn’t you.

“I don’t know. Just trying something new” you reply, shrugging your shoulders but your voice becomes slightly unstable.

“Y/n. Please, what’s going on?” Her voice grows quiet, the delicacy in her voice making a sob escape your mouth.

You’re not entirely sure where it comes from but the recognition that the WAG lifestyle doesn’t suit you, hurts. Despite knowing it deep down, you could never be a regular WAG.

“Oh baby” she sighs over the phone.

“I wish I was with you” she says when you don’t reply, you trying to hide any cries so Jude doesn’t hear.

“I just, I saw the WAGs at the World Cup. All so glamorous and perfect and they just look expensive and so pristine and put together and not a single thing out of place. So gracious and skinny. God, why are they all so skinny! I sat next to them and felt like an elephant, the ones sat behind me probably thought I was with how broad my shoulder are, I just- I just want to be that for Jude. I just can’t be though, and I’m scared he’s going to wake up and realise I can’t and then leave me for someone exactly like the others” you say, some words needing repeating because of your sobs.

“Y/n” you hear a deep voice from behind you.

“I’ve got to go” you say to your friend and immediately hang up, your shoulders going tense as you stay facing away from him.

You quickly wipe your tears away and face him.

The wall you built barely withstanding the water inside the dam and you meet his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jude says, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard, eyes glassy with slight tears in his own eyes.

And that’s all it takes, one crack in the concrete and the dam is broken.

Your tears flood out, enough to make Noah need to rebuild his ark.

His arms instantly envelope you, you fist at his shirt in desperation as you try to bury your head in his warm chest.

He holds onto you tighter, scared you might break as you stand in his arms the most fragile and raw you’ve ever been.

His heart breaks at your sobs, the sound of pure anguish coming from you as you sniff into his chest.

Jude swears he can feel his heart strings actually ache as you pull on them, each sob a new tug.

“Darling, I need you to breathe now” he says in a hushed but stern tone as your breathing becomes more erratic.

“Breathe in, one, two, three” he stops when you can’t follow his instructions anymore, a sob ruining your efforts.

“Good. Breathe in, one, two, three, four” again, a sob breaks it.

“Better. Breath in, one, two, three, four, five” and a sob.

“Perfect. Now hold your breath” he says as he takes your face in his large hands as he puffs his cheeks out and makes his eyes go cross eyed making you laugh, a sob breaking the giggles but the sound makes Jude smile none the less.

“Y/n you are so perfect. So, so perfect, down to the last hair on your head. Everything about you makes me happy to wake up in the morning, happy to wake up at three in the morning to make cookies with you when you can’t sleep, happy to run and get you your snacks late at night when you crave them, happy to hold your hand when he run up the stairs after turning the downstairs light off. Happy to be your man. Because that’s what I am no matter what, your man. There’s is no one better for me because you get me, to my core you get me. More than anyone I’ve ever met in my life and you probably understand me more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life.” He says making you tear up yet again but doesn’t let them fall far as with each one, he brushes it away gently with his thumb and places a kiss where it stopped.

“And you’re beauty. Oh my, I genuinely don’t know where to start. Your hair, it’s so perfect. Not just to me but to anyone who looks at it. Lucia told Marcus that she wants to know what products you use, actually. I’m sorry I forgot to ask you that but we’ll get to it later. Anyway, your makeup. To start, you don’t need it, but I know you like it and if you like it, I like it. You do it so perfectly. I’m in love with watching you do it. You seem so happy when you do and I fall in love with you every time you smile. And your smile! God it has me weak in the knees. Genuinely” he says making you smile and before you can stop him he’s dropped to the floor, limbs sprawled out as he clutches to his heart.

You laugh at him and all of a sudden he jumps back up to his feet and grabs your hand again.

“See!” He says, laughing himself now and slightly out of breath. “I love you more than I could ever love anyone. I don’t need anyone or anything in this world other than you” he says before cupping your cheeks once again and pulling you in for a kiss.

It tastes slightly salty given the amount of tears you cried this evening yet it’s still perfect.

As everything seems to be with Jude.

“Also I ordered your favourite. I think it would be a hate crime to eat a salad after the goal I scored today”

I hope you guys like it!! This was all over the place and not planned at all. Please forgive me if it’s bad <3

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tammyfortis

10 months ago

Possessive Toto is mad at you 🥵😳🙏

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tammyfortis

9 months ago

The 2024 Beginners' Guide To F1 From Shunted Towers.

The 2024 Beginners' Guide to F1 from Shunted Towers.

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tammyfortis

9 months ago

”Many people don't know this, but at the time I was still suffering with vision problems from my crash in Silverstone.

So the track sometimes started to go really wavy for me, and during that race I was battling, of course, Lewis catching me but at the same time battling myself because I was struggling with my vision.

It was like riding a wave on a boat while going at 300km/h.

So I had to try and control my breathing in a different way to try and get rid of the problem- nothing else was working. For quite a number of laps, I was almost about to stop the car because I couldn't see properly.

It happened at tracks that were very bumby or had loads of advertising boards.

I never told anyone at that point as I had a Championship battle.”

Oh Maxy… ❤️ The fact he felt unwell a long time after Silverstone hurts my heart! Wonder if that was the reason in Jeddah. 💔