WHEN YOUR F1!BOYFRIEND'S CARD DECLINES

they get politicians to present trophies. they allow donald trump as a guest. they sing national anthems in countries with human rights issues. but if a driver is political they get a fine, suspension, or a deduction of championship points?

dictatorship.

las nuevas reglas son una pija. traigan a george peron para poner orden y boycotear a los poderosos no me importa si quedan todos los pilotos con menos veinte puntos

anakin as pe teacher and reader as a literature teacher??? rivals to lovers, now I need to write that 😫

Can u pls write a Sebastian x reader where even she is a driver and they take turns taking each other on hot laps and reader has more titles than seb so she teases him that she is the better driver

SV5 ★ better driver

★ thx for the request, it was super fun to write. sorry if its too short. ★ Sebastian Vettel x FemaleDriver!Reader

There were rare moments when Seb and you would talk about racing. probably you two talked more about the carrots growing in your garden than about the championship. In your intimacy, you two rarely felt like racers since in privacy you were just a couple talking about books, their garden, politics without differentiating themselves too much from other couples (just a few championships on your shoulders). 

However, today was different. The night before you and Seb had fallen asleep in your hotel room while watching your previous championships, making your egos sky high as soon as the day began. Competitiveness was the main theme; who brushed their teeth the fastest (it was you), who made the best coffee (Seb according to your colleagues), and the competitions continued to increase until it got to the critical point that really mattered. Races. You started by warming up the tires, slow and Seb looked at you in the rearview mirror. He advanced first. And when his first lap was about to end, you started up. 

His first number was good but you knew he was going to improve as the track was still cold. Your first lap was not your best and you could not overcome him, you slightly hit the steering wheel.  Imagining Seb's cocky smile only made you feel more ambitious to beat him. Feeling the pressure of speed in your body could not match the tingles of happiness that invaded your body when you beat his record.  It was almost an hour in which you were outdoing each other and when you finished the sun was setting. The tips of your lips lifted when you saw him take off his helmet. Both of your hair was wet with sweat and Seb pressed his lips together when he saw you approaching. You had won the last lap by almost a second of difference with him and although he was annoyed, deep down he enjoyed seeing you win. 

You pulled your racing suits down to your waists and drank water as you tried to pull yourselves together. You looked sideways at Seb and he was already looking at you, your cheeks turned pink but you quickly recovered your normal state. 

“Seb I know you tried hard today” you paused to smile “but I think at the end of the day, I'm better.” 

The silence after your statement was broken by your partner's laughter. 

“Don't laugh, it's true,” you exclaimed as you pushed him, “I won today, not only in the race but also in everything else!”.

Suddenly, Seb became serious and slid his hand around your waist, your throat went dry and the heat on your face returned.  

“You're right liebling, you're better” Seb left a kiss on your cheek and as soon as he moved away from your skin he added “However, you can never beat me at...Flirting with you”. 

Seb's smile dominated your head but when the meaning of his words came to your understanding, you pushed him back. But you couldn't deny it, it was true. Seb always made you feel nervous. That was love. 

⊹ ¡ busco mutuals ! ⊹

☽ ¡hola! soy tohie, soy escritora de novelas y fanfics

☽ ! exo, bangtan, txt, astro, red velvet, blackpink

mangas bl & gl. mxtx <3 ! star wars, fanfics . . .

—me ayudarias mucho con un reblog

♡ Two Lattes and a Truce, Please | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: WAR IS OVER

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Max barely had time to react before George slammed him harder against the wall, his forearm pressing into Max’s chest. The eerily calm facade George had worn moments earlier had shattered, his eyes burning with unrestrained fury.

“How dare you?” George hissed, his voice low and shaking with rage. “How dare you go after my sister? Was this some twisted ploy to get back at me?”

Max blinked, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” George snapped, his volume rising. “Do you hate me so much that you thought screwing my family was fair game? What kind of sick—”

“That’s enough,” Max growled, shoving George’s arm off his chest and stepping forward. His tone was sharp, cutting through George’s tirade. “This isn’t about you, George. This was never about you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” George shot back, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’ve been dating her for over a year, Max! Behind my back! You can’t stand me, fine, but don’t drag my sister into this mess. And now—” His voice cracked slightly as his fury spiked again. “Now, you’ve got her pregnant?”

Max stiffened at the accusation, his jaw tightening. “Yes, we’ve been together for over a year. And no, this wasn’t some game or some vendetta. I love her.”

George let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Love her? That’s rich coming from you. You’ve spent years with a reputation for flings and one-night stands, and now you expect me to believe you’re suddenly the poster boy for commitment?”

Max’s eyes flashed. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about her. And you don’t know anything about us. She’s not just your sister, George—she’s my everything.”

George’s face twisted with a mix of anger and betrayal. “We used to be friends, Max. Before all this… tension, before the media shitstorm, I trusted you. And now I find out you’ve been sneaking around with my sister, lying to me—”

“We weren’t sneaking around to hurt you,” Max cut in. His voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. “We didn’t tell you because we knew this is exactly how you’d react. You wouldn’t have given me a chance.”

“And why the hell should I have?” George shouted, taking a step forward. “You could’ve come to me! You should’ve come to me! Instead, you lied to my face for a year, Max.”

Before the argument could escalate further, a panicked voice echoed down the alley.

“George!”

Both men turned to see Y/n running toward them, her expression a mix of frustration and fear.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, her voice cracking. “George, let him go!”

George hesitated for a fraction of a second before releasing Max, stepping back but still glaring at him.

Max rubbed his shoulder, muttering, “Nice timing.”

“How did you even find us?” George asked, his tone clipped.

“Alex,” Y/n panted, shooting Max a look. “He saw you dragging Max into this alley and told me to come save his life before you did something stupid.”

Max snorted despite himself, but Y/n quickly rounded on him. “You—go. Let me talk to him.”

Max frowned, clearly reluctant. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Max. Go,” she insisted, her eyes darting between him and George.

After a tense moment, Max exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Fine. But I’m not going far.”

George’s jaw was tight as he stared down at Y/n, the tension in his posture palpable. He hadn’t moved since Max left, his silence heavier than any shouting match they’d ever had.

“George,” Y/n started softly, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for avoiding you. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” George snapped, his tone clipped but not loud. He wasn’t angry enough to yell anymore, but his voice was laced with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? I thought we shared everything.”

She flinched at the edge in his voice. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeated incredulously, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a near whisper, raw with emotion. “You could never disappoint me. But lying to me for over a year? Keeping this from me? That’s not like you.”

Her chest tightened, and tears pricked her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, George. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. You’ve made it so clear how you feel about me dating other drivers. I didn’t want you to—”

“To what? Disown you? Hate you?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re my sister, Y/n. Nothing, nothing, could make me hate you.”

Y/n bit her lip, the weight of his words cracking through her defenses. “I was afraid,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Afraid of how you’d react, afraid you wouldn’t approve. Max… he just…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

George raised an eyebrow, his arms crossing over his chest. “He just what?”

“He grew on me, okay?” she blurted, throwing her hands in the air. “Like a fungus! He’s annoying and stubborn and so full of himself sometimes, but he’s also… sweet and caring and—”

“Fungus? Seriously?” George interrupted, giving her an exasperated look.

“Don’t make fun of me right now!” she snapped, glaring at him through her tears. “This is hard enough as it is.”

George sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, fine. Fungus. Go on.”

She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Before I knew it, I was in love with him. And I was terrified of what you’d say, of how you’d look at me. I didn’t want to lose you, George. You’re my big brother. I need you.”

His expression softened slightly, but the hurt in his eyes remained. “You never had to worry about losing me, Y/n. But you’ve got to understand how blindsided I feel right now. You’ve been lying to me for a year. A whole year. That’s a long time to keep something this big from me.”

She nodded, her tears spilling over. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I couldn’t keep hiding it. I love him, George. I love this baby. They’re my family now, but I don’t want to lose you in the process. Please don’t make me choose.”

George’s gaze dropped to her stomach, where her hand rested protectively. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his defenses cracking. “You’re really having a baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. You’re going to be an uncle.”

The words seemed to hit him like a freight train. His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, his anger gave way to something softer—something vulnerable. “An uncle,” he repeated, as if trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yeah,” she said again, a small smile breaking through her tears. “And judging by that face, you’re already a mess about it.”

George blinked rapidly, as though trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “I’m not a mess,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat.

“Oh, please,” Y/n teased, stepping closer. “You’re totally about to cry. Look at you. Mr. Stoic is cracking.”

“I am not,” he insisted, though his voice wavered.

Y/n let out a watery laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “You’re going to be such a softie with this kid. I can already see it—Uncle George, buying them whatever they want, teaching them how to drive a go-kart.”

He shook his head, finally letting out a small laugh despite himself. “Don’t push your luck.”

She smiled up at him, her tears drying as the tension between them eased. “I mean it, George. You’re going to be an amazing uncle.”

George looked at her for a long moment, his emotions written all over his face. Finally, he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” he murmured against her hair. “I just… I didn’t know what to do. But I’m here now. For you, for the baby—for all of it. I promise.”

Y/n clung to him, her own tears returning but this time from relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.

As they pulled back, George’s eyes flicked to her stomach again, a small, hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “An uncle,” he said again, softer this time.

“Yep,” Y/n said, grinning. “And I fully expect you to cry when you meet them.”

He rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. “Not a chance.”

“We’ll see,” she teased, poking his shoulder.

George held Y/n in a tight embrace, his protective big-brother instincts still warring with the softer emotions breaking through. As he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered with something sharper. He crossed his arms and glanced toward the direction Max had left.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, his tone firm, “I might have forgiven you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.”

Y/n groaned softly, already dreading where this was going. “George, come on—”

“No,” George cut her off, raising a hand. “You lied to me, yes, but Max went behind my back for a year. A year, Y/n! And then he let this whole thing explode in the most dramatic way possible.”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Y/n muttered, cheeks flushing.

George scoffed. “Planned or not, he’s got a lot to answer for. I’m willing to let go of our public feud for your sake but that doesn’t mean Max gets off easy. He needs to prove himself.”

“Prove himself?” she echoed, exasperated. “George, what does that even mean?”

“It means,” George said, his expression deadly serious, “that he needs to show me he’s good enough for you. And he’d better get down on one knee while he’s at it.”

Y/n’s face turned scarlet. “Oh my God, George. Stop.”

“Nope,” George said stubbornly, his tone matter-of-fact. “This is my right as your older brother after the shit you two pulled. You don’t get to say anything about it. I’m exercising my privileges.”

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

George smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Good. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel after pulling something like this.”

“You’re impossible,” she mumbled, but there was no real venom in her voice.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he shot back, his grin softening into something more affectionate.

Despite her embarrassment, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, nudging him lightly. “Fine. But can we at least agree that you’ll keep this lecture to just me and Max? No ambushing us at family dinner or something?”

“No promises,” George teased, but his smile made it clear he wasn’t entirely serious.

The next morning Max stood in front of the hotel, staring at the text from George for what felt like the hundredth time. “Meet me at my hotel for coffee. 10 AM. We need to talk.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if this was going to be another thinly veiled trap or a genuine olive branch. After yesterday’s confrontation, he wasn’t holding his breath. But for Y/n’s sake, he’d go through whatever hoops George wanted him to.

He took a deep breath and walked into the lobby, spotting George sitting at a quiet corner table. Two mugs of coffee sat in front of him, steam still rising from the cups. George’s posture was straight, his face set in an unreadable expression. Max approached cautiously, offering a small nod as he slid into the chair across from him.

“Morning,” George said, his tone neutral but clipped.

“Morning,” Max replied, equally measured.

“Thanks for coming,” George said as Max slid into the seat across from him.

“I figured I didn’t have much of a choice,” Max replied lightly, though his voice held no hostility.

George gave a small smile, almost amused, but it faded quickly. “Look, I wanted to say… about yesterday. I didn’t handle things well. I was angry, and I let it get the better of me. But that doesn’t mean I regret defending my sister.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them almost tangible. George was the first to break it, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. “I thought it was time we had a proper conversation, away from the cameras, away from everyone else.”

Max nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

George tapped his fingers against the table, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Max’s. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m okay with everything that’s happened. I’m not. But I need to understand… What are you doing, Max? What are your intentions with my sister?”

Max’s jaw tightened. He’d expected this question, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer. Still, he owed George the truth. “I love her,” he said firmly, meeting George’s gaze. “I have for a long time. She’s… she’s everything to me. And now, with the baby, it’s not just about love—it’s about building a life together, a family. I want to give her everything she deserves.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still unreadable. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you come to me? Why keep it a secret for over a year? You knew how I’d feel about it, didn’t you?”

Max exhaled, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I did. I knew you wouldn’t approve, and I didn’t want to put her in a position where she’d have to choose between us. I didn’t handle it right—hiding it wasn’t fair to you. For that, I’m sorry.”

George studied him for a long moment, his fingers still tapping against the table. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Do you intend to marry her?”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I’ve already started looking at rings.”

That admission seemed to catch George off guard, his eyebrows raising slightly. He looked away for a moment, his gaze fixed on the untouched coffee in front of him. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I won’t lie, Max. This is going to take me some time to process. I can’t say I’m thrilled about it, but… for her—and for the baby—I’m willing to put our differences aside. We can be cordial. But don’t mistake that for approval. You’ve got a long way to go before you earn that.”

Max nodded, his expression serious. “I understand. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m worthy of her.”

George leaned forward again, his voice hardening. “One more thing. If you ever hurt her—if you ever make her regret this—I won’t hesitate to make you pay. I don’t care if you’re a four-time world champion or the King of the Netherlands. I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Max’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “If I ever do anything to hurt her, I’ll come to you myself and let you deal with me.”

That seemed to satisfy George, who leaned back again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

There was a moment of silence before George let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “God, I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle.”

Max chuckled softly. “You’ll be a great uncle. The kid’s already lucky to have you.”

George shook his head, laughing lightly. “Don’t butter me up, Verstappen. It’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

Max smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

George’s expression turned serious again. “I’m giving you a chance here, Max. Don’t waste it.”

“I won’t,” Max said, his voice steady. “I promise.”

“Also,” Max began, his tone more subdued, “I want to apologize for some of the things I’ve said about you in the media.”

George’s eyes snapped up to meet his, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.

“I shouldn’t have insulted your driving the way I did,” Max continued. “I was frustrated, angry… you know how it gets out there sometimes. But that doesn’t make it okay. You’re a talented driver, and I should’ve respected that, even if we were at odds.”

George nodded slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. “I appreciate that,” he said quietly. “And… I owe you an apology too.”

Max tilted his head, waiting.

“I shouldn’t have called you dangerous,” George admitted, his voice a little heavier with guilt. “That was crossing a line, and it wasn’t fair. I let my emotions get the better of me after… well, after what happened in the steward’s room. I shouldn’t have let it get so personal.”

Max leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he processed George’s words. After a beat, he gave a small, understanding nod. “We were both running high on adrenaline and emotions. It happens. But if you’re willing to move past it, so am I.”

George offered a faint smile, one that looked genuine despite the lingering awkwardness. “Yeah, I think it’s about time we put it behind us. For Y/n’s sake, if nothing else.”

“For Y/n,” Max echoed with a small smile of his own.

They both extended their hands almost at the same time. Their handshake was firm, a silent agreement that they were both ready to turn the page.

As they stood to leave, George clapped Max on the back, his expression softening. “For what it’s worth, Max… I hope you prove me wrong.”

“I will,” Max replied confidently. “For her.”

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Plot twist of the century: Baby Verstappen-Russell loading… 🍼❤️

Comments:

georgerussell63: I’m so excited to be an uncle!! 🥹❤️

y/n_russell: I just know you're going to be the best uncle ever Georgie ❤️ user: Hold up. George Russell is actually HAPPY about this?! What parallel universe are we in?! user: George in the comments acting all sweet now… Sir, we SAW you death-staring Max at the anthem. Don’t think we forgot 💀

user: SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP. THE DRAMA. THE PLOT. THE ABSOLUTE CHAOS.

user: Y’all laughed at me when I said this was real. NOW WHO’S LAUGHING?!

user: I would like to personally APOLOGIZE to you. I thought you were joking about this, but clearly, you knew what you were doing. user: I need to apologize too for saying this wasn’t real. I genuinely thought you were being delusional. user: And THIS is why we don’t call people delusional, y’all!! Everyone owes her an apology immediately.

user: This baby just united two bloodlines like it’s Game of Thrones or something.

lewishamilton: Congratulations, Y/n and Max! Wishing you all the best on this exciting journey 🙌

y/n_russell: Thank you Lew 🥹

user: MAX VERSTAPPEN AND GEORGE RUSSELL AS FAMILY?!

user: The Verstappen-Russell feud will NEVER die. Even the baby can’t fix this 💀

user: I cannot BELIEVE the Verstappen-Russell baby is real. We live in the wildest timeline.

user: This baby has been conceived in a PR warzone. Their future memoir is gonna slap.

user: George, make Max get on one knee IMMEDIATELY. We are NOT doing this out of order!!

user: The way George probably has an Excel sheet for his new uncle duties… God bless this baby.

landonorris: I CALL GODFATHER. EVERYONE ELSE CAN BACK OFF.

charles_leclerc: Sorry, Lando, but I already submitted my application. Try again. oscarpiastri: Pretty sure I saved Max’s life this week. I should automatically win godfather. user: CHARLES AND LANDO FIGHTING OVER GODFATHER RIGHTS HAS ME ON THE FLOOR.

user: Y/n is so gorgeous, it’s unfair. Like, she’s PREGNANT, and she looks like THAT?!

user: I genuinely thought the Verstappen-Russell feud couldn’t get crazier, but then THIS happened.

user: Imagine being this baby and knowing your dad and uncle almost threw hands in the paddock over you. Icon.

carmenmmundt: So, so happy for you both!!! Baby Verstappen-Russell is already so loved. Can’t wait to spoil them.

y/n_russell: Carmen 😭❤️ Thank you! You and the girls have been the absolute best.

maxverstappen1: My love, you are my everything ❤️ I can’t wait to do this with you.

y/n_russell: I love you so much, Maxie 🥹❤️ georgerussell63: Okay, enough. Keep it PG. user: GEORGE SHUTTING IT DOWN IMMEDIATELY LMAO. user: George really said, “Not on my watch.”

user: The way Y/n just casually dropped this and logged off like the internet wasn’t gonna explode. Queen behavior.

user: welcome to the world baby Verstappen-Russell ❤️

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

@anilovessadbooks @mangotaitai @vtryy @finn-dot-com @sarahsobsession

@widow-cevans @emilly165533 @tremendousstarlighttragedy

@formula1fordisaster @5sospenguinqueen @ellelabelle @mastermindbaby @sturmatt @quinquinquincy @raizelchrysanderoctavius @mysteriouslydecaffeinatedfox @czennieszn @inthefairygrove @l3thal-l0lita @bravo-delta-eccho

I would like to write a fanfic of mu qing x reader because I only know two and I WANT MORE.

I love reading so much 😭😭 uni made me forget how much I love stories

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 | oscar piastri × fem!reader

summary | you meet oscar by chance, and one race turns into something much more

warnings | fluff, mild swearing, romantic tension, kissing

word count | 1.1 k

You were never someone obsessed with racing drivers. You didn’t collect posters, you didn’t know the names of every circuit, and you never imagined yourself dreaming about gasoline and adrenaline. But it only took one race to change everything. For him to change everything. Oscar Piastri.

At first, it was casual. You were at a friend’s house watching the Monaco Grand Prix just to be polite. And there he was—calm, young, with a kind of presence that doesn’t scream for attention but is impossible to ignore.

You started following him. At first under the excuse of “trying to understand the sport.” Then it was interviews, then TikToks. Then came the secret Twitter account for updates, and finally your first live race. Silverstone.

The air smelled of burnt rubber and excitement. Your hands were trembling. You had won a McLaren giveaway for an exclusive meet & greet. You didn’t know what to say to him, how to act, whether to smile or freeze completely.

And then you saw him.

He saw you.

Oscar was talking to someone from the press when your eyes met. It wasn’t the look of a star at a fan. It was fleeting, curious... as if he too was wondering if he’d seen you before.

“First time in the paddock?” he asked when it was finally your turn. His Australian accent was even more charming in person.

You nodded. You swallowed hard. You weren’t sure whether to shake his hand or just stand there awkwardly. You somehow did both.

“I’m Oscar,” he said, like you didn’t already know exactly who he was.

“I know,” you replied, and instantly regretted how obvious it sounded.

He smiled. That kind of smile that shows up when someone wins a silent battle. And you noticed how his gaze lingered on you just a little longer than it should have.

“Are you enjoying the race?” he asked.

“Very much. Though… I still don’t fully understand the strategies. Sometimes I just hope you don’t crash.”

He laughed. A genuine, soft laugh.

“Well, that’s what I’m hoping for too.”

Before he said goodbye, he took your cap. And with a marker, he wrote on the brim:

"For the girl who made me laugh before the race. O.P."

He handed it back with a wink.

You went home with your heart racing faster than any car on the track.

You didn’t expect more. It was a moment. A fleeting second among thousands. But a month later, you got a notification:

@oscarpiastri followed you.

And then a message.

Oscar P.: “Would you like to come to Monza as a McLaren guest? I’ve got a spare pass…”

You nearly dropped your phone. You hesitated. Was it real? Was it a mistake?

But you went. Of course you went.

Monza, Italy.

The speed of the cars didn’t compare to the speed of your heart as you stepped into the McLaren hospitality. And there he was, dressed in team gear, relaxed, as if he’d been waiting for you.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, adjusting his earpiece.

“I thought it was a joke,” you admitted, shrugging.

He smiled. This time, slower. More… interested?

“What do you think now?”

“Now I’m worried I might be enjoying this more than I should.”

There was a silence that hung between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Like he felt something too, something neither of you could quite name.

The race was a whirlwind. You watched him drive, watched him gain positions, watched him so far away and yet somehow so close.

And at the end, when he returned to the hospitality still sweaty from the race and buzzing with adrenaline, the first thing he did was look for you.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“A lot. Although…” you hesitated. “I think what I liked the most was seeing you happy.”

Oscar blinked. Then looked down, almost like he was trying to hide something.

“Want to go for a walk tonight?” he asked. “No F1. Just you and me. Italian pizza and a city that doesn’t sleep.”

You felt like the ground was disappearing under your feet.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’d love to.”

That night.

Monza under the lights was magical, but walking beside him made it feel even more surreal. You talked about everything and nothing. About what he liked to cook when he wasn’t racing. About your favorite books. About how strange it is to have thousands of people watching you, but still feel alone.

“Sometimes I feel like no one really knows me,” he confessed, sitting beside you on a bench. “Everyone sees me as the driver. The quiet guy. But they don’t know who I am when the helmet comes off.”

You looked at him. Not like a fan. Not like someone who idolized him from a screen. You looked at him like someone who had felt that too—the weight of pretending to be okay.

“I want to know you,” you said, almost without thinking.

Oscar looked at you. This time, with no walls. No filters.

He leaned in.

And when his lips brushed yours, there were no fireworks. There was peace. There was that feeling of everything falling into place.

“I don’t care if this is weird,” he murmured. “But with you, for the first time in a long time… I don’t feel alone.”

He kissed you again. Slow. Gentle. And you knew no podium would ever compare to that moment.

Days later…

The relationship became the perfect blend of secret and sincerity. You didn’t tell anyone. You didn’t need to. There were glances exchanged at circuits. Messages at midnight. Calls between training sessions. And even though you weren’t a driver, every time you were with him, it felt like you were racing toward something worth it.

One night, before another big race, he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you stared at the lights of the paddock.

“What are we?” you asked softly.

Oscar rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re my escape. My calm. And if you want… we can be something more.”

“Something like what?”

“Like what no one finds on a racetrack. What you don’t win with speed, but with time.”

You turned around, looked at him. And for the first time, without fear, you said:

“Then let’s take that time. But promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That when you finish a race… the first thing you’ll do is look for me in the crowd.”

Oscar smiled. He kissed your forehead.

“Always.”

💘💘💘💘

𝟎𝟎𝟐, PLAYING CUPID

pairing! anakin skywalker x fem!reader

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

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

word count! 4.8k

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

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

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

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

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

You hated war.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's so stubborn.

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

And now it was putting the mission at risk.

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

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

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

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

Unacceptable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The way you gasped.

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

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

"Maybe I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You heard me."

"You're questioning my leadership now?"

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

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

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

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

Or at least that's what you thought.

"He's pushing me!"

"He's trying to say something!"

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

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

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

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

"Oh! Yeah?!"

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

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

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

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

You two were close. So close.

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

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

"You- Stupid droid!"

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

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

"I-I- Let me-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There he was.

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

And it was only because you kissed his cheek.

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

"Just because."

That was all he needed to hear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mission.

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

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

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

"Aggressive, yes. Reckless, no."

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

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

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

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

materialist pinned on my profile !