😍😍

blue+red

make me feel (h.o.)

masterlist | ko-fi?

pairing: pornstar!harrison osterfield x pornstar!reader

summary: Harrison and Y/N has undeniable chemistry onscreen and off. The question is, how long will they deny such connection and convince everyone that they're just friends?

word count: 4,558

warnings: pornstar!au, friends to lovers, language, drinking, banter, mention of douching & anal, smut! [pegging, praise kink, cross-dressing, dirty talk, slight daddy kink, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (f)]

song inspo: Janelle Monae - Make Me Feel, Damon Daunno & Rebecca Naomi Jones - People Will Say We're In Love, Tom Waits - Midnight Lullaby, James Vincent McMorrow - One Thousand Times, Taylor Swift - False God

notes: finally coming out of my writer's block with this one woohoo! i've been working on this since may, like that's insane??? im pretty happy with how it turns out lol. big thanks to @shipping-not-sailing and @tommysparker who put up with my bullshit brainstorm, and shoutout to @marvelouspeterparker for making a CRAZY pornstar!au fic with tom that inspired me to do this one. happy reading!

***

Y/N has said it before and she would gladly say it again.

Harrison Osterfield is one hell of a fucking sight to behold.

Writhing underneath her as she rocks her hips against his, his statuesque features come to life —cherry red lips hanging open, making way for moans of pleasure to escape him. The veins on his neck, popping out from underneath his black collar necklace. His fingers around her wrists, statement rings against her bare hands.

His eyes, more blue than green today, peering back and forth; to the sleek black strap-on sliding in and out of him, and to the person it’s attached to.

Y/N, in all her glory, wrapped in a lacy bra and a harness around her hips.

“Baby…” She cups his face with one hand. "S'that feel good?"

He catches her eyes and nods, his sparkling galaxy fingernails digging into her hips, wordlessly beckoning her to come closer. Deeper.

Faster.

But instead, she slows down. She pulls nearly all the way back, leaving only the tip of the strap-on inside him. "Use your words."

Harrison lets out a whimper, rose gold and dark bronze eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open. Peering at her through his mascara-laden lashes.

"God, you're so pretty…" Y/N beams, for a moment simply admiring the view underneath her. Head empty, except for the thought she said out loud. And soon her body moves on its own accord, lips closing in on his. Hips thrusting in and out of him. Enrapturing him in all of her.

For a moment, alone together.

“CUT!” Elena, the director, calls out, and the whole set comes to life. Camera and boom operators stretching their arms and artistic team adjusting the set and people generally crossing over.

"That was beautiful, darlings. Let's move onto the next shot and— I really liked when you just gaze at each other for a bit there," Elena compliments as she walks over. Then, turning towards her director of photography, she says, "Can we keep that for the next shot?"

The two stars of the show blend into the busy set just as quickly as they become the center of its attention. It’s a nice little break among the adjustments of the lighting and camera and everything.

"Hold up, I need to stretch my legs a bit," Y/N sets off to straighten up.

Harrison's hand flies up to her hip almost immediately. "Slowly, slowly, slowly—" his quiet warning is cut off with a sigh as she unsheathes the strap-on from him, as gentle as she can be.

She settles opposite him, both casual and comfortable in their state of undress, drawing soothing circles on his lace stocking-clad ankle next to her.

“So I finally tried marinating my steak with pineapple like you said!” he pipes up, “It’s game-changing, Y/N.”

“I know, right? You’re welcome, by the way.” she flashes a cocky grin his way. “How long did you marinate it?”

“The whole day. Did it first thing in the morning, and then seared it for dinner.”

“Nice!”

“It's so tender and rich and God, I’m starving.” he muses, tucking an arm behind his head.

“You wanna grab a bite after this?”

“Fuck yes!” he reaches her calf, moaning almost as obscenely as he does during his scene.

It makes her laugh. “We can try that restaurant near—”

“Alright, everyone! Next shot. Harrison, Y/N, can we go back to your marks, please?” Elena turns to them, patting the latter’s shoulder on her way back to the monitor.

“Yeah— can we have some more lube, though?” Y/N motions at the production assistant, who promptly hands her a bottle.

It’s a strange lull, watching someone putting on a generous amount of lube for him while another person hovers around for that bottle, but Harrison simply smiles unabashedly at that girl. “Aw, you didn’t have to.”

“But I want to,” she simply shrugs, handing the bottle back to the unassuming PA, who scurries back as quickly as she arrives. Then, Y/N returns to her initial position on top of him and says, jokingly, “Gotta treat my princess right, don’t I?”

But in that exact moment, she feels his cock flexing in excitement. He looks up to find his gaze darken at the pet name. “Fuck’s sake, Y/N…” he turns away to his the blush in his cheeks.

“You got a fine taste, Harrison.” she nods in approval, pleasantly surprised at this revelation, her signature smile taking over her entire beautiful face once more. “Ready?”

The hustle and bustle quiets down and with it, time slows down, too. The call of camera rolling and slate clapping takes her mind into a different headspace. Her body relaxes, readies itself. For the scene. For the sex.

“ACTION!”

He takes her in with an arch of his back, savoring every inch. Gosh, he’s so tight, she swears she could feel him gripping from inside her.

It’s a performance, yes, but it’s also awfully intimate. Like drawing the curtains on the deepest part of herself. And Harrison gives as much of himself as she does hers; she likes that about him. Always equally as vulnerable. Familiarly so.

He is, arguably, the best scene partner she’s ever had.

Even when the novelty has worn off, and the sensation starts to dull out of exertion, there’s still that sizzling connection between them that makes them so fun to watch. It’s not always in the motion of their hips (although it is one of the things driving him crazy at this instant.) Sometimes it’s in the glide of her thumb over his lips, or the way he chases her kisses and traces his mouth anywhere he can, ever so tenderly. A breath of fresh air in the midst of the heat.

Right now, her hand is closed in on Harrison's cock, stroking and pounding into him as he ruts back against her. Among the haze, he opens his eyes to gaze at her, pleading,

"Please, I wanna cum… Daddy..." he whimpers. His eyebrows knot in anticipation —and maybe nerves, since he's going off-script with yet another kink.

But Y/N smiles, her quickening pace a stark contrast to her soothing whispers. "Let go, baby. I got you. Daddy’s got you…"

He sprays his hot mess all over his heaving chest with a breathless moan, his ass gripping her strap-on like a vice. She takes her time lapping up his cum and making her way to his lips with soft kisses, making him giggle hazily.

He finds her lips, indulging in his own taste and how her tongue makes it sweeter. For the longest time, they just stay there; hands in each other's hair, catching their breath in kisses after kisses after kisses… until they part and fall back to the soft surface of the bed, blissfully sated.

"And cut,” Elena says softly, definitively. "That's a wrap for the day, people! Wonderful job!"

It's only then that she remembers the presence of twelve other people in the room with them, applauding and cheering for a job well done. Harrison sits up first, bashfully bowing before lightly elbowing her. Y/N nods graciously at everyone else and applauds right back at them.

The PA scurries back around, this time with some wet wipes and bath robes, and the two of them go on about their own business, cleaning up and going back to their respective dressing rooms, exchanging congratulatory pats on the back with the crew on their way.

Y/N is chatting with Elena when Harrison pops up at her open dressing room door. "Hey. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." she flashes a brief smile her director's way, and then looks back at him. "We're still up for some food, right?"

"'Course! I'm dying for some proper food," he groans dramatically, sauntering in. "Anyway. I'll see you outside and I'll see you tomorrow, Boss."

"Ciao, bello." Elena gives him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, seeing him out of the room. As soon as he's out of earshot, she turns back to her actress. "You two are so cute."

"We're friends," Y/N rolls her eyes, here we go again. It’s quite surprising how, in an industry where friendships among fellow sex workers are so normalized, they’re not exempt to the light teasing. "Really, really good friends."

"Right..." she replies dubiously.

Y/N absently applies her lip gloss, a ghost of a curious smile creeping up on her face. "What?"

Elena rolls her eyes in relent. "I mean, you know me. I don't do those male gaze-y Gonzo porn. I'm all about sensuality and connection and… I'm just saying," she shrugs, "the chemistry doesn't lie."

"Well," Y/N stands up to bid her farewell, "If it gets you to keep working with us, then we'll keep that chemistry alive, how 'bout that?"

"Such a charmer," Elena shakes her head, laughing. "Go. Your good friend is waiting for you."

She can say that it’s all in day’s work until she foams at the mouth, but all signs point the other direction. The bleak grey London scenery is nowhere to be seen; instead, the golden Roman sunset barely peeks over the rows and rows of centuries-old buildings. And leaning against the lamppost, her so-called good friend is casually checking his phone.

He looks up at her and his handsome features light up, gesturing at his watch as he hurries her. “Hey, come on! Mamma mia, spaghetti carbonara! Vamonos.”

"That’s Spanish and… you’re on your own, pal," she deadpans, turning to walk the other way.

He catches her arm, of course. "Oh no, I’m not. You're not gonna leave me to eat alone like a sad English bastard, are you?"

"But you are a sad English bastard, my darling.”

"Mean." he pouts, and he knows how powerful his puppy dog eyes can be. "Besides, I had a gummy bear diet for a whole 24 hours for you. Shoot water up my ass clean for you! The least you can do is wine and dine me, Y/N."

She bursts out laughing —partly at his dramatic recount of his 'sacrifices', and partly at the idea that this is more than what it is. Two very good friends, who do not shy away from gross conversations, letting off steam after work.

Nothing more.

***

“God, that hit the spot…” Y/N sighs as she takes a bite of her tiramisu, following a hearty spaghetti carbonara as their main course (Harrison was not kidding when he uttered that word so passionately earlier.)

Harrison looks up from his now-empty glass of wine with a cheeky smile. “That’s what she said!”

“Having fun, are we?” She teases him good-naturedly.

“I mean, I could definitely get used to this,” he gestures all around him, “We’re doing something cool and artsy for a change, we’re in Rome…”

“Bumming my dessert…” she stiffly points out as she swats his hand away, although he’s already taken a generous amount of her cake in his spoon.

“Exactly! The desserts here are amazing and I just—” he purposely ignores her and puts the stolen spoonful into his mouth. “What a life, you know?”

She glares at him, although the smile she bites back says otherwise. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m buying you dinner.” she finishes her dessert before he beats her to the final bite.

But she gets what he means; it was a truly good day at work, where they got to play dressup and do something experimental and incredibly sensual with a female-led crew. And to do that with one’s most trusted scene partner is… wonderful.

“Would you and your beautiful wife like some more wine, Signore?” their waiter, a friendly middle-aged man, offers.

The pair exchange looks —a pause, and then they burst into laughter.

“No, no, no. We’re not—” Y/N chortles, too caught up to continue.

The waiter looks at her in confusion. “No to the wine or the… wife thing, Signora?”

“Oh, we’re not together, sir.” Harrison clears his throat and smiles politely, “As for the wine… what do you think, love?”

“I think we’re good. Early day at work tomorrow, remember?” she eyes him pointedly. Then, she looks to the waiter, “Can we have the check, please? Thank you.”

The waiter nods, walking away from this peculiar pair at the windowside table of this little restaurant, tucked away in one tiny corner of the city. He comes back with the check a moment later, still quite adamant on offering another bottle of Chianti to go.

Y/N shakes her head, much more composed now. “Grazie mille. The food was…” she makes a chef’s kiss gesture as she links her arm with Harrison’s on her way out.

“I’ve never seen someone openly shipping us so hard,” she muses as they enter their hotel lobby, just across the street.

“Do you think he recognized us?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t have ‘that look’, you know?”

“Ah, yes.” Harrison grins knowingly.

It doesn’t happen very often, but every now and again someone might clock them from their films or OnlyFans and they have this ‘I-can’t-believe-you’re-a-real-person’ look on their face, which can be amusing or unnerving sometimes.

“He does have the look of, ‘if you get the wine, maybe you’ll get frisky later’ though,” he adds, briefly nodding at the receptionist who wishes them a buonasera.

Y/N simply laughs it off, pressing their floor button.

The door closes, one of those antique elevators with the metal trellis and wooden finish. And suddenly there’s no noise anymore. Just the low humdrum of the old engine.

They climb past floor after floor in silence. It’s only in times like this —where there’s no one else that the voices start to settle in. The voices that ask them why aren’t they together and point out just how close they are. Arm in arm. Alone together in this tiny little space.

“Does that ever make you feel… I don’t know, weird?” Harrison speaks up, a little more quietly this time.

His nose nearly brushes against her cheek, and it makes her heart skip a beat. It takes everything to keep her composure and say, “What do you mean?”

“You know, like, when people are nosy, I guess.”

“Ah well, it comes with the job, right?” Y/N coolly shrugs it off. “And you?”

She finally brings herself to turn to him, finding him looking ahead, lips pursed, head tilted away from her. He feels her curious eyes on him, and he meets her gaze. At that moment, it seems they are both keeping their cards close to their chests. And neither is willing to budge.

The elevator dings and Y/N opens her mouth. Harrison doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath.

“You still have some makeup around your eye.” she saunters out of the elevator and towards her hotel room door.

“Fuck’s sake!” he hisses, his voice coming out sharp in the empty hallway.

“Come on, I got some cleansing oil inside,” Y/N motions him over and slides in her key card.

“This is why you’re the fucking best.” Harrison follows her into her room, drops his bag on the entryway with a flourish, and invites himself into her bathroom.

Such is life as Harrison’s friend, she sighs.

“My God, Y/N, how do you live like this?!” he hollers from inside.

She doesn’t rush inside right away. She knows exactly what he’s going on about. And sure enough, she finds him fixing the towel haphazardly strewn on its hanger and rearranging the mess of her skincare products on the bathroom counter. He makes a point to put the toothpaste cap back on in front of her.

“I was in a hurry, okay?” She simply takes the tube from him, replacing it with the glass bottle of her cleansing oil.

“You’re an animal,” he groans, although he lets her push his hair back anyway —carding her fingers through his wavy locks. It feels so good, so comforting, and he secretly wishes she could do it for longer.

But she lets go. She sits by the sink and toys with a fresh towel while he lathers his face with the cleanser. He can see there’s something on her mind, but Y/N is a stubborn little thing. The more one tries to coax it out of her, the deeper it gets buried.

So Harrison stays quiet, lathering his face with her cleansing oil. He can barely see the little knot between her eyebrows in his periphery, but he knows it’s there. Any second now...

“You know, Elena said something similar earlier.”

And there it is. “What’d she say?”

Y/N waits until he turns on the tap, rinsing his face. Perhaps some white noise and mundane activity would be a good buffer. “She asked if we were together. Said the chemistry doesn’t lie, or whatever.”

Harrison turns off the tap, and the small squeak sounds deafening at the moment. “And what did you say?”

“I said we’re really good friends!” she replies matter-of-factly, a little too loud and high-pitched to be casual. Well, at least he’s patting his face with the towel, so she can’t see his face.

Alas, the distraction only buys her 5 seconds until Harrison puts it down. He folds it in two and sets it aside. An extra 3 seconds, but it’s enough for him to muster up the courage to say,

“Would it be so bad if it were true?”

“What?” she looks up from her hands in her lap, for the first time sounding less than cocksure about herself.

He shrugs, absently fixing the row of bottles and tubs in front of him. “I’m just saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“I… like you and I like what we have and —I don’t know. Maybe I want to kiss you when we’re not working.” he wipes his hands awkwardly and leans against the sink.

They’ve been in every intimate situation known to man, with tens of people watching, and yet… in the stillness of this sleek bathroom, bathed in warm vanity light reflected against emerald green tiles, they’ve never felt so naked with each other. So vulnerable.

“Just kisses?” Y/N eventually pipes up, a glint of humor in her eyes —but also a sliver of yearning, too.

“See, that’s the other thing! We already know how compatible we are in bed and, like, we both do the same shit for work; we don’t need to have that awkward conversation about what the relationship will be like between us.”

“What if I want you to quit doing porn?” she crosses her arms, challenging him. Making sure he’s not fucking with her.

He makes a face like he knows her like the back of his hand. “Do you, really?”

And he does, she begrudgingly admits. “No, I don’t,” she sighs.

“That’s exactly what I mean." he lodges himself between her open legs. “What do you say?”

Y/N loosely wraps her legs around his trim waist, hands sneaking under his sweatshirt. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

It’s a valid concern and definitely something he’s maturely considered. “Then we… go back to being friends and co-workers. I mean, at the very worst, I don’t see us ending so badly, we wouldn’t stand to be around each other.”

“I don’t know about that, though. You’re pretty anal.”

“I thought you liked me because I’m anal.” he quirks his eyebrows at the last word.

“Shut up…” she weakly swats his chest, though she keeps her hand there, her initial worries dissipating. Gosh, being with Harrison is so easy. “So we’re doing this?”

“If you want to.”

“Sex without a camera, huh? That’s new.” she smirks at her own remark.

“No camera, no crew, no makeup…” he teases, pulling her in.

Their foreheads rest against each other, and it does calm her nerves a bit. “When in Rome,” she murmurs.

She makes the first move. They must’ve kissed a thousand times today, adding to tens of thousands more kisses in all the times they’ve worked together. But this one feels new. Unhurried. Untethered.

Indulgent, for once.

They eventually move to the bed and Y/N has no qualms with continuing their makeout session right away, but of course Harrison can’t stand the mess of clothes on the edge of the bed. She tuts and pushes it onto the floor, only to find him shooting a dirty glare at her.

“You’re an animal,” Harrison reiterates his disdain for her messy habits.

“Ugh, you’re so anal. Leave me alone!” She groans, stretching out her limbs in her bed.

“I didn’t hear you complain about that earlier,” he retorts, pulling her back into his arms.

The night is young and with no marks to hit, no takes to nail, they just lay on their sides and make out in bed for the longest time. Fingers dancing on the skin under their shirts, lazily peeling away one clothing item after another. She draws an invisible line from freckle to freckle, from his neck to his hip, before eventually resting her palm over his heart. Beating stubbornly under the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Harrison’s hand treads between her legs, knuckles stroking her soft inner thigh. She lets him in, of course, reveling in the way he traces her clit. How his whole body presses against hers, taking in every shift in her movement. Every twitch. Every subtle reaction to the way he makes her feel so fucking good.

Y/N arches up into his touch as he inches closer towards her opening. No words needed to be said; he knows what she wants. And when he spreads her own wetness around her cunt just a little too long, he simply wants to savor her bashful little laugh… and watch it falter when his fingers swiftly enter her.

“Shit…” her hand flies up around his neck, pulling him back into a kiss.

He falls out of the kiss as her jaw slacks at the quickening of his pace, and he ventures down her breasts. Finding his way to her hardened nipple, nipping and sucking to his heart’s desire.

And his heart desires to hear her sweet sighs and feel her fall apart underneath him.

She gives him just that, and it’s the easiest thing ever. Her whole body is overwhelmed with the sensation of his fingers stroking her sweet spot and his thumb lightly —lithely pressing on her clit. Soon enough, she succumbs to the impending release and whimpers his name as she cums. She trusts him to listen to her body and follow the signs, and sure enough… he does. He powers through her orgasm and slows his pace as she winds down.

"Fuck, that was nice.” she falls back into her pillow.

“I know. You’ve been doing a lot of the work today, my love,” he smooths out her hair, kissing her sweetly. “Want me to take the reins now?”

“Mm, yes please.” As bossy as she is, Y/N can’t fight how her limbs feel like jelly after that. And being taken care of really doesn’t sound so bad right now.

And Harrison is more than happy to do so. He lines up his hard, veiny cock and slides it in bit by bit, letting her adjust to his size. He’s always been thicker than he seems, and as sexy as it may be to make her scream with one swift thrust, the promise of slow, vanilla sex sounds way more enticing to them.

Y/N wraps her legs around his waist and eventually pulls him all the way in. Above all, her heart feels full at how tender they are with each other.

“You feel so good…” he hums into her neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake as he feels her walls gripping him like a vice.

“So do you, darling,” she murmurs back, grinding her hips into his.

He starts thrusting in and out of her, easing her into the comings and goings of his cock. She keeps him close, though. Letting herself be enshrouded by his body, his scent. His warmth. It feels grounding.

And when Harrison picks up his pace and inching closer towards their high, she finds herself settling back into the comfort of their relationship. In her haze of it all, she still finds it in her to tease him.

“That’s it. Fuck. Be a good boy and take care of Daddy,” she lazily grins.

He clenches his jaw, the motion of his hips faltering just a little. “Fuck’s sake, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she blinks up at him, feigning innocence and fooling nobody.

“You know what, Y/N,” he replies with a grunt and a thrust that reaches deep into her core.

And of course, with the big dick energy she possesses, she responds with a sharp smack on his ass. “Don’t be rude, that’s Daddy for you.”

“Fuck!” he feels the clench of her pussy, the sting of her palm, and the sly smirk gazing up at him and he loses all control. Blowing his load into her silky inner walls.

Meanwhile Y/N is rocking a shit-eating million-dollar smile through it all. That little shit.

“That’s a dirty fucking game you’re playing,” he says between labored breaths into the crook of her neck.

“I know.” she kisses his sweat-damp hair.

Harrison, sluggish as he is after his orgasm, lifts his head up to meet her gaze. “I’mma get you for that.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

Y/N feels two things in the span of 3 seconds: emptiness, from Harrison pulling out of her and his weight on top of her suddenly gone just like that. And then warmth, of his mouth on her spent, dripping pussy. He wastes no time devouring the juices leaking out of her like it’s the only thing he’ll ever do. There's no camera to pander the money shot —just his insatiable self and this sexy, peculiar, funny creature that he’s crazy about. And if he spends the rest of his life bringing her to her sweet release and nothing else, he’d be the luckiest man alive.

Her big finish comes as sudden, as intense as her beginning. The kind that takes her breath away and makes her thighs tremble and close in around his head. And he makes good on his promise —he keeps licking her clit as a playful revenge, until she actively pushes his head away from the overstimulation.

“You’re an animal,” she whines, although she pulls him back into her embrace.

“That’s what you get for exposing me!”

“Um, excuse me? You exposed yourself, sir.”

“I guess I couldn’t help it when you’re being so fucking sexy like that.”

They exchange looks, the room suddenly quieting down —and then they burst into laughter, gagging and shuddering at the corny, porn-y pickup line.

“Oh God, Elena is gonna have a field day tomorrow,” Y/N sighs as she settles back into his chest. He makes for a nice pillow, it turns out.

“Ah well, let her,” he smooths out her sexed-up hair gently, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “We’ll be alright.”

And if this is what she falls asleep and wakes up to forever, she’s pretty sure she will be.

***

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it! if you like my work, please consider giving me feedback through reblogs and asks. thank you so much <333

"Your left foot is not going between my legs." (x)

You and Charles give Max’s lip freckle a little bit of love.

You’re curled up in Max’s lap, warm blanket wrapped around your body, Charles beside him on the couch, snuggling closer to the Dutchman and tightening his hold on your hand, thumb caressing the pulse point of your wrist.

They’re watching a football game and you couldn’t care less about it. You could be doing something else, anything really, but you prefer to endure an hour of guys running behind a ball if that means spending some time with your boyfriends before they leave for the first race after the summer break.

You look up, still resting your head on his shoulder, and Max doesn’t even notice, too focused on the TV.

You love everything about Max, from his icy blue eyes to how sweet, — not only with you and Charles, but with anybody else — caring and just perfect he is. But what you love the most about him is the freckle on his upper lip.

And from the first moment you met him, you were mesmerized by it.

Slowly, very slowly, you lift your hand, touching the freckle with the pad of your finger. It’s a barely there touch, and if Max notices he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even move, he just keeps watching the TV.

You move your head just a little, enough to have free access to his lips, and without a second thought you lick his upper lip, just where the freckle is.

When you pull away, Max and Charles are already looking at you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Max asks, a small smile on his lips.

Charles looks amused as he sits up, turning his whole body so he’s facing you two.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re doing.” He smirks, making you blush. Max just looks confused between you and the Monégasque.

“You have a freckle on your lip.” You say, gaze glued to that little thing that screams at you to kiss it, and lick it, and show it some love.

“I know I have it.” He laughs, but his cheeks begin to gain a soft pink tone that shows how affected he is by you giving so much attention to a freckle.

“So you know you have it,” Charles leans in, stopping just a few centimeters from his face. Max’s blue eyes widening as he waits for his next move. “You also know how hot it is, too?”

“It’s not—” He dismisses the compliment with a roll of his eyes, immediately looking down embarrassed. But you force him to keep his face up with your fingers on his chin.

“I can’t stop looking at it,” You trace his lips with your index finger as Charles, finally, reduces the distance and starts kissing his jaw. “Every time you talk,”

“Every time you lean in to kiss us.” Charles whispers in his ear as you lick his lip again, and this time Max’s whole body reacts to the attention both you and Charles are giving him.

“It’s not that—” He groans, closing his eyes. “It’s just a freckle.”

“It’s you, Max.” You cup his cheek, looking into his pretty, blue eyes. “And everything about you.”

And it’s then that you capture his lips with your own. You feel the blood rushing through your veins, a tingly feeling in your stomach, as Max reciprocates the kiss, his hand finding your waist and squeezing ever so slightly.

Charles keeps his assault on his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck, sucking and biting, leaving love bites behind. And Max can’t help the moan that escapes his lips when Charles sucks over his pulse point. He tangles his free hand in Charles hair, keeping him there until he can’t take it anymore and pulls away.

Max tries to catch his breath while looking between you and Charles, pupils dilated and chest heaving, heart thumping.

But Charles doesn’t give him time to catch up with what’s happening because he’s already kissing him with everything he has. It’s messy and aggressive, you see it and you feel it in the way Max pulls you closer to him, flush against his chest between him and Charles.

When they pull away, there’s a string of saliva still connecting their lips. Their faces are flushed and it makes you whimper, making them look at you immediately.

You and Charles spend the entire night showing Max just how much you love the freckle on his lip.

☀️Sons, Sons, and More Sons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff/SMAU Summary: Ollie, Leo, Liam, who's next Oscar? Oh.

inspired by @pucksandpower 😊

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“CHARLES!”

The said Monegasque, who had been “innocently” snuggling his four-legged son, winced at the force and volume of your voice. 

He was currently going through everything that might have upset you in the past 20 minutes from when he got home to you just now getting out of the shower. Did he leave the toilet seat up again? Or did he forget to sort the laundry? Or maybe he didn’t clean up Leo’s toys from the bedroom? 

“Why is my Twitter blowing up?” 

Oh. That’s why. 

He whispered to Leo, “I’m in for it now.” 

And then in a louder voice he yelled, “Yes mon amour?” 

You rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped in the opening to the living room, crossing your arms. “Care to tell me why I’m getting tagged in almost every Twitter post about you adopting Oscar?” 

You wanted to break at the puppy eyes that your boyfriend was currently giving you, but you needed to stay strong. You needed to show that a man could not sway your feelings. Too bad that man was Charles Leclerc, the one that men and women alike fell to worship the ground beneath his feet. 

You couldn’t break. 

Charles brought his hand up to ruffle his hair, something he did to express some nervousness. 

“Cheri, it was just a joke. Oscar somehow finds heritage in a lot of countries. He just wanted to keep the joke going.” 

“So you decided to ‘adopt’ him so he can have another home race?” 

“Maybe?” 

“Don’t you already have enough sons anyway? I think four is too many or our house is going to overflow on family night.” 

Charles’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Four?” 

Now it was your turn to smirk. “Yes, four. Or are you too busy having fun with Leo to be a present father to your other two?” 

Charles tried to wrack his brain about who could be the other two. 

“Ollie?” 

“Bingo.” 

He leaned back into the couch, hands still gently petting Leo who had decided to fall asleep in the middle of his parent’s squabbles. The golden puppy was content on his dad’s warm chest, the rise and fall rocking him to sleep. 

The Ferrari driver sighed. “I don’t even know.” 

You waved your phone at him. “Twitter might be able to help you. I need to get dressed since I was rudely interrupted. I hope you find out before they get here for dinner.” 

Charles shot up making Leo yelp away from his nap. Now that he was really looking at you, he realized that you were just in a towel. A blush formed on his face, still having those boyish thoughts that he believed he was better than that. 

You walked over and bent down, face getting closer to his. 

Ah. You were going to forgive him and all would be right in the world once your lips met his. You wanted to laugh as you saw his eyes flutter shut, lips slightly puckering. 

Charles was wondering what was taking you so long when your finger touched his lips. His eyes shot open and he definitely did not whimper. You looked down at your fur-baby and gently picked him up, bringing Leo to your chest. 

“Twitter. Figure it out Leclerc.” 

Now a bit sullen, he watched you walk away. 

“Je t’aime!” 

He was responded to with a middle finger and the bedroom door slamming. A chuckle made its way from his chest as he brought his phone out. If there was one thing that you two did well, it was dramatics. 

Twitter was immediately opened once he got his phone out. He scrolled through all the tags before giving up and opening your profile. He winced at the sight of the white background, cursing his phone for updating and not keeping the dark profile. 

However, he couldn’t contain his laugh as he saw your new updated tweet. He leaned his head back, still giggling to himself. 

Charles knew that you two wanted kids at some point. But between his Formula 1 career and your business on the uprise, children really wouldn’t work well now. But deep down, he liked the idea of having a few grid kids. 

He took a minute to stop giggling before he continued his search. His eyes widened as he stopped on one of the family trees that some fan made. 

There was Leo, adopted by you and him. 

Then Ollie, who fans say that Charles conceived himself somehow. 

Oscar was newer, but still had the adopted dotted line. 

And then . . . 

Ooohhhhhhh, so that’s who he was missing. 

You took that moment to come out of the bedroom, hair now dry and fluffy from your Dyson. Leo was still in your arms, looking more awake than he had when he was with Charles. You sat down next to him, Charles taking the opportunity to put an arm around you, bringing you in closer. 

“You smell good amour.” 

You turned and smiled, leaning in to finally give him a kiss after a long day. 

“Thank you. It’s the lotion that you bought me.” 

He let out a low hum and just kept you in his arms. Leo was squirming a bit before he finally flopped over and settled in between your two bodies. 

“I figured out who our other son is.” 

Your head now rested in the crook of his neck. “Did you now.” 

“Yes. I am a stepfather to Liam?” 

Your shoulders shook with giggles. “Not the stepfather, but the father who stepped up.” 

“You spend way too much on Twitter.” 

You looked up at him, and Charles turned to look down at you. You leaned in closer to rub your noses together, giving him eskimo kisses. The Ferrari driver just closed his eyes and basked in the moment between you. 

There weren’t many times that he got something like this. So quiet and peaceful. His world was filled with so much noise. But here, he could melt into the quiet. 

“We should have dinner here with the boys after the Grand Prix on Sunday.” 

“That sounds nice. I can make the food.” 

You sat up slightly, elbow bent on the back of the couch and head resting on your hand. 

“You want to show off your cooking skills to your sons to prove that you can cook.”

Charles huffed. “I am the provider chéri.” 

You cocked your head at the Monegasque. “Whose name is on the lease mon bebe?” 

A huff was the answer, which made you cuddle Charles closer still being aware of the little baby between you. A small nip to your fingertip made you pick Leo up, now holding him close to your face. 

“Were you getting a bit jealous of papa ma petit amour?” you asked the blonde dachshund in a baby voice. If Charles wasn’t already fully in love with you, his love would have been solidified in this moment. 

While watching, he suddenly remembered something. “Oscar wanted to meet Leo in McLaren hospitality this weekend.” 

You turned with a raised eyebrow. “Why not Ferrari?” 

“Eh.” 

It was as if you had a lightbulb moment. “Ohhhhhhh, right. That makes sense. I can stop by and let you know when I get there.” 

What you hadn’t expected was to pick up Liam and Ollie on your way to the now green outside of the McLaren hospitality. Leo was still curled up in your arms, eyes blinking every so often. You knew that if it wasn’t so busy, the little puppy would be sound asleep. 

“He’s so cute,” Oscar said, walking forward and hands outstretched. You gently gave him over to the “older brother” of the three. 

Ollie laughed. “I know right. He’s so cuddly.” 

Liam joined in, “I don’t think I put him down the entire time I got to meet him.” 

Oscar stared at you three for a moment. “Yeah, you aren’t getting him back.” 

You shook your head. “Speak to your father first, Oscar.” 

Chuckles erupted from all around, making you laugh as well. You took your phone out and took a quick picture of Oscar holding Leo to post later. 

“Is dad on his way?” Ollie asked after sipping on his water bottle. 

You rolled your eyes. “Should be. Ah, there he is.” 

Charles stepped foot into the room and immediately found you surrounded by his “kids.” His heart may have melted seeing Leo flopped in Oscar’s arms. He gave you a kiss on your cheeks before he greeted the three. 

“This is hilarious,” he said, making everyone laugh yet again. 

You rested a hand on your forehead. “We’re just missing Liam’s dad, and then we’ll be one big happy family.” 

The Kiwi crossed his arms, but a giant smile was on his face. “So much for having a present father in my life. I’m jealous.” 

Charles gripped your waist and puffed his chest. “I’m not the stepfather, but the father that stepped up.” 

“Charles, no you aren’t. Can’t even handle three kids.” 

You and Charles turned around to see Max now stepping through the door. The Monegasque raised his eyebrow. 

“And you can?” 

You raised a hand. “That’s my que to leave. I will not be in the middle of a Lestappen-father showdown. Boys, you can follow me.” 

“Yes mum.”

“Lead the way.” 

“Can I still keep Leo?” 

Charles and Max gawked as the three older boys followed you like ducks in a row. After he got over the shock, the Ferrari driver was left with a love-sick smile on his face. 

“Yeah. I’m marrying her.” 

“Gross.” 

“Max. Shut up.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

liked by y/nismother, charles_leclerc, liamlawson, and 1,304,295 others y/n_l/n look at my sons . . . pride is not the word I'm looking for

see all comments

y/nismother the mother is mothering

charliexy/n honestly, they all take after him so much. I need to go to twitter

olliebearman then what is the word you're looking for mom 🤨

liamlawson30 I knew she wasn't proud of us

oscarpiastri this is why dad is better

y/n_l/n I'm taking away all of your sims and ps5's

olliebearman I take it back, mom is the best

oscarpiastri81 this is the best thing to happen this weekend

charles_leclerc my family 🫶

maxverstappen1 you stole my son from me.

liamlawson30 they had free ice cream 🤷

y/n_l/n 😊

maxverstappen1 I'm taking pole then

charles_leclerc ☹️

lestappenlove I love the entire family your honor

leclerc16charles does Leo need another sibling? cause I can bark

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field crasher

wonze x child!reader

been having baby fever from all the fics i’ve read with a baby so decided to write one

let me know what you think!

-grey

———

You were sitting in the stands with your babysitter, a stuffed elephant safely tucked under your arm. You were sitting right behind the players’ bench watching your Mom and Mama do their jobs. You didn’t really understand all that was happening, just that if someone scores a goal everyone gets too loud, which is why you had your protective headphones on.

Thirty minutes into the match you were getting restless. Sitting for a long period of time makes your hun all sore. You get up to stand near the railing that separates you from the field.

During halftime, your babysitter lead you to the food stalls, telling you to pick whatever you want to eat, settling on some pizza, chips, and a juice.

As you ate, the second half had started, but you were too focused on your pizza to notice. Finishing up your slice, you move onto your chips, having a hard time opening the bag so you grab your juice instead, also having some trouble opening it.

Turning to your babysitter for some help, she was too occupied talking to the person next to her. Looking around the stadium on who would be willing to help you, everyone else was too engrossed in the match. You’re getting frustrated at not being able to open your chips and drink that you were on the verge of breaking down.

Grabbing each one in each of your hands, you make it your mission to get some help. Wandering down to the field, you don’t see any of your favorite aunts or your moms on the bench so that could only mean one thing.

Looking out to the field, you see your Mama to be closest to you.

“Mama!” You yell, holding your things up and running to her as fast as your little legs could go.

“Oh, there appears to be a child running onto the field. No one seems to notice her, refs have not noticed yet, especially the security has not noticed. Who do you think she’s gonna go to? She’s got a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other.”

Getting closer to your Mama, you get even more excited.

“The ball is now back to Barcelona’s possession. Lucy Bronze running back over the half. Oh, towards the child. Is she gonna see the child in her way?”

“Mama!”

Lucy looks down to see you standing in her way, stopping as quick as she can. She grabs onto your form, hoisting you up so she doesn’t run over you. Referee’s whistle was blown to stop the play.

“The whistle was finally blown. Lucy Bronze now has the child in her arms. Very close to running into her.”

“What are you doing here baby? Where’s your babysitter?”

“Mama hep (help).” You say, holding your chips and juice towards her face.” You feel a hand start patting your back meaning you turn around in your Mama’s arms. “Mommy!” You lean towards her, hoping she gets the hint that you wanted to be held by her, which she does.

“Security is finally on scene to get the child off the field so the match can resume.”

“We can take her.” A security guard told Keira.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just ask Jonatan for a sub.” Keira directs the last but to Lucy.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Also have a talk to the sitter that was supposed to be watching little miss here.”

You just look up at your Mommy with that little innocent smile you give her.

“Mama open peas (please).” You hold the bag of shops towards her, which she does giving it back to you after. “Tank (thank) you!” You give her a small kiss on her cheek.

“Let’s get this sorted so we can resume the match.” The ref directs everyone back in place, Keira walking to the bench with you still in her arms, her substitute ready to replace her.

“Keira Walsh is getting subbed off, play will resume.”

For the rest of the match, you sit on Keira’s lap, munching on your chips even offering some to the players around you. Towards the end of the match, your eyes started to drop, laying your head on your Mommy’s chest. When the final whistle blows, you’re out like a light.

“That’s the game folks! Barcelona wins three nil.”

Your sleeping form gets passed to another set of arms, whining until the familiar scent hits your nose making you relax, your face pressed into the crook of their neck.

“How was she?” Lucy asks her wife.

“She was good. Sat on my lap and ate her chips the rest of the match. Fell asleep.”

As the married couple talked, someone from the media team told Lucy she has an interview to do.

“Want me to take her?”

“No, but you should go look for the babysitter. You’re more levelheaded than me.”

Walking into the room full of reporters and cameras, Lucy walks to the front, your sleeping form still in her arms. Questions started about ones relating to the match, then the ones the reporters really wanted to ask.

“Lucy, is the child in your arms the same one that ran into the field?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know how she got passed everyone so easily, just shows we need better security and a better babysitter for her. If I hadn’t seen her I definitely would’ve crashed into her. That’s all I’ll say on that situation right now.”

“Alright. That’s all the time we have. Have a great rest of your day.” Barcelona’s head media person told the reporters.

Still asleep in her arms, Lucy tries to wake you up, which will be very difficult because once you sleep, you are dead to the world around you. After a few tries, you’re finally up, but a bit cranky. Your bad mood changes when you enter the locker room and see all your aunties.

“Hola, bebita.”

“Lala Nana.” (Hola Ona).

“You stay with Tía Ona while Mama showers okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“Look who it is. If it isn’t the field crasher herself.”

“There’s already articles being written about you chiquita.”

“Is there really?” Keira asks, taking you from Ona when you reach out for her.

“Baby Wonze is famous.”

REBLOG THIS SO THEY GET FOUND TY THSI GIRL DIDNT DESERVE THIS SO REBLOG EVERYONE!

The names of my rapists:

Tremayne Clarkson - I was intoxicated and he knew it. I also said I didn’t want to multiple times and we had a mutual agreement that sex would not happen. Has two different sexual violent complaints against him.

Jamaal Rhodes - intoxicated again and he knew it (texts proving it). He admitted in our school hearing to hearing me say he was hurting me but also said he didn’t see it as grounds to stop. Changed his story 3 times. Even in texts stated that he was just “in the zone” or moment.

Both go to the university of south Alabama. Both found not responsible.

Danger Noodles

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: When asked to describe Formula 1 drivers in a single word, many people would choose “brave” … but those people clearly haven’t seen your boyfriends near a snake

You sink back into the plush couch, wedged happily between your boyfriends. Max’s arm is draped casually over your shoulders while Charles holds your hand, gently stroking his thumb over your knuckles as they both gaze at you adoringly.

“We have something we want to ask you,” Max says, giving your shoulders a little squeeze.

Your heart flutters, wondering what they’re going to propose. The three of you have been nearly inseparable for the past six months, falling more and more deeply in love with each passing day.

“What is it?”

Charles grins, bringing your hand to his lips for a tender kiss. “Well … we were hoping you would move in with us.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Of course you’ve dreamed about living with them — waking up tangled in bed together each morning, cooking side by side, cuddling on the couch every night. But there’s one major issue that gives you pause.

“Wow, I don’t know what to say,” you stammer.

“Say yes!” Max nuzzles your cheek. “It will be amazing, the three of us together.”

You bite your lip anxiously. “Well, there’s actually something you should know first ...”

But Charles cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands. “We know this is fast but it just feels right, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine not having you with us when we fall asleep and when we wake up every day. We love you so much.”

He kisses you softly and your reservations start to melt away. How could you even think of say no when they’re looking at you like that, so full of hope and devotion?

Max tilts your chin towards him for a deep, lingering kiss. “Please move in with us, liefje. It will be like a dream come true.”

You open your mouth but Charles swoops in for another kiss, stealing your breath. “Imagine lazy mornings in bed, making those blueberry pancakes you love together, playing with our ...”

He trails off, his nose crinkling adorably as he thinks. You take a deep breath. This is your chance.

“Playing with my pets,” you finish for him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I have pets.”

Max and Charles exchange surprised looks.

“Pets? What kind of pets?” Max asks.

You hesitate, trying to figure out how to break this gently. But the words stick in your throat.

Charles grins and pulls you against his chest. “As long as they’re not snakes or spiders, I think we can handle whatever furry creatures you have.”

Max chuckles. “Yeah, anything but those two. You know how terrified we are of them.” He shudders dramatically.

You open your mouth but Max barrels on enthusiastically.

“I bet you have the cutest little dog or cat. Maybe even both! Don’t worry, we’ll love them because they’re part of you. Plus Jimmy and Sassy could use some more siblings.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Absolutely! Your pets will be our pets. We can’t wait to meet them and spoil them.”

You try again weakly. “But you don’t underst—”

Max presses a finger to your lips. “No more hesitation. We want you to move in with us and we want to meet your pets. I have a good feeling they’ll fit right into the family.”

Charles tickles your sides playfully, making you squeal. “So what do you say? Are you ready to take this next step with us?”

They both gaze at you with such hope and excitement, you can’t bear to ruin it just yet. Moving in together is a big step, one you’ve dreamed of taking. And they seem so thrilled about your pets, misunderstanding though it is.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe they’ll come around once they actually meet your snakes and see how sweet and harmless they are. You can ease them into it slowly.

“Yes,” you finally say, breaking into a wide smile. “I would love to move in with you both.”

Max and Charles let out whoops of joy, tackling you backwards onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and ecstatic kisses. You dissolve into giggles, caught up in their infectious enthusiasm.

For now, you decide to just enjoy this moment. The conversation about snakes can wait a little longer. You snuggle into your boyfriends’ arms, thrilled to be taking this step even if you have a nagging worry about their reaction to your pets.

But their smiles chase away those doubts for the time being. Curled between these two men who you love with your whole heart, you feel like the luckiest person alive.

***

You take a deep breath as you look around your new shared bedroom. The movers have brought in all of your boxes. Your clothes are hanging neatly in the walk-in closet next to Max’s Red Bull branded shirts and Charles’ eclectic collection of pants. Your knickknacks are scattered around, blending seamlessly with their belongings.

This really is your home now. The thought makes your heart swell even as your stomach twists anxiously. There’s only one thing left to move in — your beloved pet snakes.

You decided put this off until the very end, dreading your boyfriends’ reaction. But now you can’t delay any longer.

Taking another deep breath, you head down the hall to where Max and Charles are unpacking your novelty mugs in the kitchen.

Max looks up with a grin as you enter. “Is everything all moved in?”

You force a smile. “Just about. There’s, um, just three things left.”

Charles wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Well let’s go get them! I’m so excited to finally meet these pets of yours.”

Your throat goes dry. You should have told them sooner. But there’s no backing out now.

“Yeah, about that ...” you start nervously.

But Max is already eagerly dragging you towards the front door. “Come on, what are we waiting for? Bring in the fur babies!”

Your steps drag reluctantly as you lead them down to the garage where your car is parked. You open the backseat door, reaching for the first snake habitat.

Max and Charles peer eagerly into the car. As you turn, reptile habitat in hand, their faces morph from excitement to confusion to outright horror.

Charles stumbles back with a yelp. “Is that a snake?”

You bite your lip, cradling the habitat protectively against your chest. Your corn snake stares back at them curiously.

“Yes, this is Caramel. She’s my pet corn snake. And I have two other snakes — Cookie and Basil.” You gesture at the other two setups still in the car.

Max’s face has gone pale, his eyes wide as saucers as he stares at Caramel. Charles looks similarly shaken.

“Snakes?” Charles squeaks in disbelief. “Your pets are snakes?”

You nod, feeling awful for not warning them sooner. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t know how to bring it up ... but they’re very sweet, I promise! They would never hurt anyone.”

But Max has already stumbled several more steps away, looking like he might pass out. “You want us to live with snakes? Actual slithering, scaly snakes?”

Charles shakes his head rapidly, hands up in front of himself defensively. “Oh no no no. This can’t be happening. Snakes are my worst fear!”

You cuddle Caramel gently, who flicks her tongue out placidly. “I know it’s a shock but once you get to meet them, you’ll see they’re harmless. Please, give them a chance for me?”

But Charles and Max only continue to edge away, staring at Caramel like she might lunge at them.

“I can’t do this. I can’t live with snakes,” Max chokes out before bolting back to the elevator.

Charles gives you a desperate, apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. We ... we need some time to process this.” He turns and races after Max, pressing the button to close the elevator doors repeatedly.

You stand there, shoulders slumping as you hold Caramel’s habitat close. Your eyes well up with tears. You’ve just moved in with the men you love more than anything and they can’t even stand to be near the pets that you consider your children.

Sniffling, you gently set Caramel’s habitat back in the car next to Cookie and Basil.

“It’s going to be ok,” you whisper to them, wiping your eyes. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll give them some time and hopefully they’ll come around.”

But a sob escapes as you think about the apartment that was supposed to be your new loving home but now instead only feels cold and unwelcoming.

Taking a shuddering breath, you smooth down your hair and lift your chin. You just need to be patient. And maybe do some exposure therapy to help Max and Charles overcome their fear.

You have to believe everything will work out in the end. Because the alternative — either losing the men you love or having to give up your precious snakes — is unthinkable.

***

You sit on a park bench in the middle of Monaco, the sun warming your face. But even the beautiful weather can’t lift your mood. Your heart aches thinking about the disastrous attempt to move in with Max and Charles earlier.

The looks of horror on their faces when they saw your pet snakes are seared into your mind. You really believed they would accept all parts of you when they asked you to move in. Now you just feel silly for ever thinking this could work.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you gaze down at the snake habitats next to you where your precious babies Caramel, Cookie, and Basil are curled up.

“I’m so sorry, my loves,” you whisper to them. “This is all my fault.”

The snakes flick their tongues out softly as if to comfort you. You manage a small, sad smile. At least you still have your scaly companions, even if your dream of living with your boyfriends has been shattered as painfully as possible.

You’re so lost in melancholy thoughts that you don’t notice two familiar figures approaching until they’re right in front of you.

“There you are,” Max says, slightly out of breath. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You look up with reddened eyes to see Max and Charles gazing down at you remorsefully. Charles holds a small cooler in his hands.

“What do you want?” You ask warily, shifting to try to shield your snakes from view.

Max winces at your defensive tone. “We want to apologize. We’re so sorry for overreacting earlier. It was just ... a huge shock.”

Charles nods earnestly. “We feel awful for upsetting you and the snakes. We want to make things right.”

He sets the cooler down and opens it, pulling out three frozen mice. Your snakes perk up at the sight of their favorite snack.

“We brought peace offerings,” Charles says with an anxious but hopeful smile. “We want to get to know Caramel, Cookie, and Basil. Will you please give us another chance?”

You bite your lip, torn between cautious optimism and lingering hurt.

Max kneels down beside you, taking your hand in his. “We were idiots. We should have handled it better. But the thought of losing you is unbearable. We don’t want to live without you.”

Charles sits on your other side, squeezing your shoulder. “We’ll learn to love your snakes because they’re yours. Please come home and give us a chance to make things right.”

His pleading green eyes and Max’s gentle blue ones melt your resolve.

Finally you nod, a tiny smile breaking through. “Okay. I’m willing to try again if you are.”

Their faces light up with relief. Charles eagerly grabs Cookie’s habitat as Max reaches for Caramel.

“Let the snake exposure therapy begin!” Max declares. They settle the habitats carefully on their laps.

You let out a soft laugh as they lean in curiously. Caramel and Cookie slowly slither closer, flicking their tongues as they examine Max and Charles.

Charles yelps as Cookie boops her nose against the glass right in front of his face. Max laughs, though he looks nervous having Caramel so close.

You scoot over next to Max, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead, you can touch her. Gentle strokes along her back.”

Max gulps but tentatively reaches out, lightly petting Caramel’s head. His eyes widen in surprise. “Wow, she’s so smooth and soft!”

Charles gains courage from Max’s bravery and mimics him, stroking Cookie’s back. A small grin starts to spread across his face. “This is actually kind of nice!”

You beam proudly. “See, I told you they’re sweethearts.”

The boys relax as they grow more comfortable petting the snakes. All the tension from earlier fades away.

“We really are so sorry,” Max says, lifting your hand to his lips for a kiss. “No more overreacting. From now on, we promise to embrace all of you — even the scaly parts.”

Charles leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Please come home. It’s not home without you.”

Your throat tightens with emotion. You throw your arms around them in a big hug, snakes and all.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper.

***

Max clutches the steering wheel, brow furrowed in concentration as he races on his simulator. The wheels start to skid and he fights to keep control of the virtual car.

“Nice save,” his teammate Gianni says over the headset.

Max grins, glancing at the livestream camera filming him. “Just warming up the tires, mate.”

As he comes out of the chicane, he feels something brush his ankle. Probably one of the cats pestering him while he’s trying to drive.

“Not now, Sassy,” he murmurs, downshifting to take on the next corner.

But then Max feels smooth scales glide across his foot.

He yelps, hitting the brakes reflexively. The car spins out, the livestream immortalizing every second of his shocked expression.

“You okay?” Gianni asks, oblivious to the cause of Max’s surprise.

Max looks down to see Caramel curling happily around his simulator pedals. She must have escaped her habitat … again.

“Uh yeah, I just had a little visit from one of Y/N’s snakes,” Max says with a breathless laugh. “Nearly gave me a heart attack but I’m alright.”

He hears Gianni cracking up through the headset. “Oh man, I forgot you guys took in those snakes too! They just slither around while you’re racing huh? That’s wild.”

Max carefully picks up Caramel, her smooth scales sliding over his hands. She flicks her tongue out innocently.

“Clever girl, sneaking in here while I was focused on driving,” Max coos, unable to be mad at her. He makes sure the livestream audience gets a good view. “Say hi to the fans, Cara!”

The live chat fills with snake emojis and laughs. Gianni fake-shudders through the headset. “You’re a braver man than me, letting those things just wander around. No thanks!”

Max grins, gently stroking Caramel’s head. “They’re not so bad once you get to know them. Just gotta respect their space. Right, sweetie?”

Caramel bobs her head as if in agreement. The live chat melts over how cute she is.

“If you say so,” Gianni says. “Now put the danger noodle away and let’s get back to racing!”

“She’s not a danger noodle, she’s a sweetheart,” Max protests with a laugh. But he dutifully returns Caramel to her habitat before hopping back in the simulator.

Later that day, you come home from work to find Max laughing at the snippets of his stream that fans have shared online.

“I had a special guest appearance from one of our scaly housemates today,” he says, pulling you down onto his lap to show you the clip of Caramel surprising him mid-race.

You laugh, “She just hates being cooped up.”

“Clearly,” Max says wryly. But his eyes are soft as he gazes at you. “You were right though — they are growing on me. Never thought I would say that about snakes but here we are.”

He kisses you sweetly. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over his stubble as you feel your heart swell to triple its size.

“I’m really proud of you. And Caramel definitely got your stream some extra views today!” You tease.

Max groans. “I’ve gone soft! But I guess for you and our unconventional little family, I can make an exception.”

You snuggle into his chest, perfectly content. Having supportive partners who cherish both you and your scaly babies makes all the difference. And you have to admit, seeing your tough boyfriend coo over Caramel was pretty darn cute.

***

Race day morning in Monaco is always a whirlwind. You kiss Charles and Max goodbye as they rush out the door to head to the circuit, matching Louis Vuitton backpacks slung over their shoulders. Little do any of you know, a small scaly stowaway has curled up inside of one.

In the Ferrari motorhome, Charles is changing into his race suit when he hears startled shouts from some mechanics. He turns to see Cookie, peeking her head out of his backpack, flicking her tongue as she takes in the unfamiliar location.

“Cookie! What are you doing here?” Charles asks with a laugh. The mechanics back away nervously.

Charles gently picks her up. “It’s okay, she is perfectly harmless. This is one of my girlfriend’s pet snakes.”

Cookie wraps around Charles’ hand, seeking warmth. He smiles and strokes her scales.

“Well, I guess you’re the team mascot now,” he tells her. “Let’s find you a nice Ferrari bandana to wear.”

He ties the red fabric around Cookie, who seems quite pleased with her new accessory. Charles carefully sets her around his shoulders and heads out to the paddock.

As expected, the other drivers have mixed reactions to the surprise reptile visitor. Lewis grins and comes over to pet Cookie, happy to see a fellow animal lover. Meanwhile Lando takes one look and speed-walks in the opposite direction.

“If Roscoe can attend races then so can snakes,” Charles argues when there are murmurs about animals not being allowed in the pit lane. He scratches under Cookie’s chin proudly. “Right, ma belle?”

When Max arrives for the drivers parade, he bursts out laughing at the sight of Cookie draped around Charles’ neck.

“Y/N will get a kick out of this,” he says, giving the snake a little chin rub. “But I can’t let you outdo me!”

He quickly ties a Red Bull bracelet around Cookie, perfectly sized to be a snake necklace. “There, now she can root for both of us!”

You’re watching the broadcast in hospitality when the camera pans to show Charles, Cookie curled contentedly around his shoulders.

Your jaw drops.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim with a laugh. But your heart melts seeing Charles parade her around like a princely scarf. And her new accessories are just too cute.

In the end, Cookie seems to bring Charles good luck. He takes the chequered flag and snags his first home victory, the curious snake cheering him on the whole time from where she’s cozily curled up in your lap.

On the podium, Charles grins up at the cameras with Cookie snaking her way to wrap around his cap. “We make a great team!” He proclaims, holding up the little snake like she’s Simba in the Lion King.

The crowd laughs and applauds. You watch with delight, shaking your head at this ridiculous man and his new snaky sidekick.

Later, back home after a long night of jumping from club to club, you lavish both Charles and Cookie with praise and kisses.

“I can’t believe our girl got to be part of your special l day!” You cuddle her close. “She must have loved all the excitement.”

Charles grins and slides his arms around your waist. “It was meant to be. She’s my new Monaco Grand Prix lucky charm!”

Cookie bobs her head happily. She’s clearly enjoyed her big day out.

You laugh as Charles spins you around the living room in an impromptu victory dance while Max records the two of you with a proud smile. Having supportive partners who not only accept but celebrate all aspects of you — even the reptilian ones — is a dream come true.

This really is the perfect unconventional family.

***

Sunlight streams through the curtains, rousing you from sleep. You stretch languidly, sandwiched between Max and Charles’ warm bodies. What a perfect way to wake up.

Charles nuzzles into your neck, planting soft kisses along the stretch of skin. “Good morning, mon amour.”

You hum happily, tilting your head to capture his lips in a kiss. His hand trails down your side, fingers dancing over your hip.

On your other side, Max presses up against you, his muscular frame molded to yours. His nose grazes your jaw as his lips find your shoulder.

You sigh blissfully at the sensation of being cradled between them. Their hands wander reverently across your body as they pepper you with kisses.

Then you feel something long and firm nudge against your thigh under the sheets. You smirk, assuming one of them is getting frisky.

“Is that a banana or are you just happy to see me?” You tease.

Max and Charles exchange confused looks over you.

You frown and reach down to grab whatever is poking you ... and feel familiar dry scales. Your eyes go wide.

Throwing back the sheets reveals Basil curled up happily on your leg.

“Basil!” You exclaim as Max and Charles shriek in surprise.

Basil just flicks his tongue out, pleased as can be to have found such a cozy sleeping spot.

You fall back against the pillows laughing while Max and Charles look on with wide eyes.

“So much for a romantic morning in bed,” Max grumbles. But his smile tells you that he’s not truly mad.

Charles runs a hand through his rumpled hair, grinning ruefully. “We really need to snake-proof the apartment.”

You scoop up Basil, giving him a gentle scolding. “What are we going to do with you, silly boy? You just love snuggling, don’t you?”

Basil bobs his head unrepentantly. Max shakes his head and comes over to scratch under his chin.

“Oh you little snake. Gave us quite the surprise!”

Charles joins you both, reaching out tentatively to pet Basil. “I have to admit, the look on your face was pretty priceless, mon ange.”

You swat his shoulder but let him pull you into his lap. Basil winds happily around your wrists as you kiss.

Max presses up behind you, hands wandering your body as he nuzzles into your hair.

“Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” He murmurs.

You laugh as they topple you backwards onto the pillows, peppering you with kisses. Basil slithers away happily and you lose yourself in your lovers’ embrace.

Later, basking in the afterglow, you glance over to see Cookie and Caramel have joined Basil in exploring the room. You really do need to snake-proof better.

But as Max pulls you against his chest and Charles winds his arms around your waist from behind, you can’t find it in you to care right now.

“Our lives may be crazy with these snakes,” Max presses his lips to your temple, “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Charles hums in agreement, dotting kisses on your shoulder. You cover their hands with your own, heart overflowing with love.

Is your little family unconventional? Yes. Chaotic? Absolutely. But also wonderfully, perfectly yours.

BLUE FUNK.

 — A. GRIEZMANN

pairing: antoine griezmann x fem! reader

summary: the couple face the horrors of a bombing attack in paris. the only solution to cease some of the pain away is by being held by their lover.

warning: traumatized reader, lots of angst, cursing, mentions of death and loss, mentions of anxiety disorders, ptsd, and fluff at the end.

word count:  2,7k | ( gif not mine! )

masterlist!

…   A VIOLENT SOUND OF EXPLOSION ECHOED THROUGH THE STADIUM, causing the football players to freeze at the spot as their eyes frantically searched for their teammates and coach. Their faces were painted with confusion, their eyebrows furrowed along with a thumping heart that was beating rapidly inside their chest. The crowd held their breath, their heads turning to each other for any reassurance, but they all mirrored the same reaction — fright. Another explosion was fired outside the stadium, causing a haywire of people screaming blue murder as the commentator ordered an evacuation.

        Antoine’s body became impossibly still, the loud blaring of alarms echoing inside his ears as his eyes darted around manically, searching for his family. He just stood there, his feet glued to the grass while his eyes were transfixed with horror. His chest prickled, squeezing his lungs making him unable to breathe properly. His heart thumped loudly, hammering violently against his chest.

        He seemed to snap out of his daze, his feet going on autopilot as he followed the rest of his team toward the dark tunnel. A rough hand patted his back reassuringly, causing his head to snap towards them, his glistening blue eyes locking with theirs. A pulse roared in his throat, making his jaw tremble with fear as the blood drained from his skin. The sound of cries and screams filled his ears, making him dig his fingers into his friend’s arm, his lips opening and closing without making a sound.

        At the periphery of his vision, he noticed two people walking toward them. His eyes were clouded with tears and he squinted his eyes, moving his head to the side to catch a clear view. He drew a breath he didn’t know he was holding and burst into a frenzied run, collapsing into his parents’ arms. He hid his face into his mother’s neck, his trembling hands clutching her jacket while listening to her soothing words.

        “It’s alright, son. It’s gonna be okay.”

        Just as he took in his mother’s words, another wave of panic settled inside his chest like a tidal wave. His mind wandered to his sister and girlfriend, who were unable to watch the match. He remembered begging [Y/N] to come for his match, expressing how she’s his lucky charm. His sister, Maud, whined about how much they spent time together and wanted a girl’s day, shamelessly snatching her away from her brother to watch a concert instead. Guilt churned into his stomach, the knots tightening every time he breathed.

        Antoine quickly pulled away from his mother’s embrace, his eyes bulging from their sockets. “What about Maud and [Y/N]?” he managed to let out, his voice hoarse while clutching her jacket into a fist.

        His parents shared a worried look before looking at him, making him frown. “Maud is fine, she’s safe. She called us, but [Y/N] wasn’t with her. Maud said they separated when the bombing happened. We tried calling her, but-” Antoine violently shook his head, interrupting his father. “Well, try again! W-We need to get out here, we need to get them.” he snapped, running a hand through his sweaty locks as his mind went through endless scenarios.

        “They’re gonna be okay. How do you even know if they’re bombing at the concert?” His father genuinely asked, his eyes softening. He inched closer to his son and rubbed his back comfortably.

        Antoine clenched his jaw, his chest pains making him draw a shaky breath. He opened his mouth, licking his lips before voicing his thoughts. “They told us where the bombing is, dad. It’s near the concert and we need to get to them-” he stressed, his voice trembling with fear.

        His father shook his head, making his son furrow his eyebrows with confusion. “We can’t leave the stadium, not until we know we’re safe,” he said in a calming tone, trying to ease his nerve, but it seemed to worsen his state.

        Before he could let out a word, the guards evacuated the players into the dressing room, including Antoine, who peered about wild-eyed and looked at his parents, who told him they weren’t leaving his side. He walked with wobbly steps, clutching his chest, his hand turned into a fist as he took a few pats on his chest to cease the agony.

        Antoine was hunched at the bench, his shaky hands dialing his sister’s number. He squeezed his eyes shut, his legs aggressively bouncing as he waited for her voice. A stab of anxiety creased into his gut, making his heart stumble over its own rhythm. His pounding heart was the only thing he could hear and he didn’t notice his sister calling his name on the other line.

        “Antoine?”

        He jumped reflexively, a long sigh escaping from his lips. His hand clutched at his shirt, rubbing his chest with a scowl. He painfully swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. “M-Maud, are you okay?” he said in a quiet voice, squinting his eyes repeatedly.

        “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. It’s [Y/N] I’m worried about. She doesn’t answer any of my calls.”

        Antoine’s mind went spirally out of control, stuck on his thoughts about his girlfriend lost somewhere in the massive crowd. His eyes moved to the door, his frown deepening at the sight of security guards blocking the entrance. He bit the insides of his cheeks, looking back at his teammates. “We’re not allowed to leave.” he lamented, swallowing his fear as he gave his teammate, who was in the same situation as he was, a reassuring smile.

        “Good, we don’t need another one getting lost. Stay where you are, okay? Don’t do anything stupid, brother. I’m sure she’s fine, I promise you we’re getting out of here alive.”

        Alive. A chill went down his spine, prickling his skin like needles as he let out a shaky scoff, shaking his head at the choice of her words. “Please be careful, Maud. I swear to God if you-” he began to lecture, making his sister cut him off.

        “We’re getting out here, Antoine.”

        The line got cut off and the French man was left in his own thoughts, his mind going a hundred miles per hour. His body grew tense to the point of shaking and he clutched his phone into his hand before placing it beside him. He sniffled, grabbing the side of his head, feeling a headache forming through his skull. He leaned his body against the wall, his eyes closed as he rocked back and forth.

        While Antoine was slowly losing his sanity, [Y/N] was crouched behind a metal staircase, her legs becoming numb as her eyes frantically darted across the screaming crowd. Tears slid down her crimson cheeks as her lips muttered a prayer. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to block out the screams of terror erupting inside the stadium. As much as she tried to hold it in, she couldn’t and her body betrayed her.

        A choked sob emitted from her lips, her hands covering her chest as though trying to stop her heart from escaping. Hard knots formed in her throat, making her unable to breathe. She silently cried, her trembling hands covering her face. Her purse was nowhere to be seen, which meant she couldn’t phone anyone. On top of that, she lost Maud when the first bombing happened. Guilt prickled inside her chest, violently cursing inside her mind for not sticking by her side.

         [Y/N] remembered the sound of the explosion, her life flashing before her eyes as the bomb dropped. She kept Maud close to her side, their hands intertwined as they pushed through the body mass with fear. But somehow, they happened to separate due to endless people pushing and trying to get the hell out of there. She could only pray. Pray that she was safe and sound, away from the horror she was witnessing.

        She sniffled, drawing a deep breath before shakily exhaling. She shifted to the side, moving closer to the stairs, her bloodshot eyes darting across the area. She did a double take, her eyes finally landing on a person laying on the muddy grown, blood surged from his mouth as they held a tight hand on his side.

        She let out a gasp, her chin trembling like a child. She sobbed, praying and hoping it wasn’t Maud. Her body violently shook as she tried to stand up from her painful position. Her unsteady legs managed to pull her up and before she knew it, she was on the muddy ground, holding the stranger’s injury with a loud sob. “I don’t know what to do, I’m so sorry.” she gasped between her cries, looking at the stranger with panic.

        Her hands were stained with blood, pooling underneath her clothes as she wrapped her scarf around their side, adding pressure. She sniffled, her nose red and runny as she tried to keep them conscious. She hiccuped, inching closer to grab a hold of their face. She noticed their eyes were trying hard to stay awake and she slapped their cheek, earning a wince in response.

        The stranger grabbed her hand, a firm but gentle touch making her pause. “Y-You need to get out of here.” they croaked out, their voice raspy and hoarse.

        [Y/N] frowned, her tears trailing down her cheeks. She shook her head, squeezing the man’s hand. “We need to get you to a hospital, sir.” she wavered, her voice cracking. It felt like a fist was closing over her heart, watching the color of the man’s face turn grey.

        An explosion outside the stadium snapped her out of her state, making her quickly turn her head to the arena with dread. She whimpered, her head turning to look back at the man but instantly regretted it when she noticed his eyes closed shut. “No, no!” she cried, shaking him with her blurry vision.

        She cursed, cupping his face with her hand. She clenched her jaw, her trembling hand reaching for his pulse. When she couldn’t find one she broke down into tears, her scream of rage devolved into a sobbing mess.

        “[Y/N]!” She gasped, her body jerking towards a familiar voice. It was hard to see past the tears clouding her vision, but she knew it was Maud. She sat slouched, unable to pull herself upright as she saw her falling to her knees in front of her, grabbing her face before wrapping an arm around her.

        “Thank God, I found you! We’ve been looking for you. You didn’t answer your phone..” she stressed into her ear, gently caressing her hair before pulling away. Maud’s face turned into concern, noticing the blood on her body. Her eyes went wide, her hands searching for any injury. “Oh my, are you hurt?”

        [Y/N]’s eyes blinked slowly, taking her in. She slowly shook her head, her brows shot up with disbelief. She looked down, noticing the dried-up blood etched on her hands. She placed a trembling hand on her shirt, feeling the blood itching her skin. Tears welled inside her eyes at the thought of a stranger dying in her arms. She let out a sharp breath, “He died, Maud. I couldn’t–I didn’t-” her rambling led to her losing her voice.

        She felt Maud’s warm hands cupping her face, her hand pulling her face toward her. “Hey, sweetie. We need to get out of here. Antoine’s already having my head.” she said in a gentle tone, helping her up on her feet as they walked toward a security guard.

        She grabbed onto Maud, her hands clutching her sweater as her eyes were looking down at her shoes, not wanting to watch the horrors of the night haunting her mind. She thought of Antoine, her sweet, loving boyfriend, who was probably worried sick. She longed for his touch, wanting his arms around hers, shielding her from her pain. Worry grew in her stomach, “A-Antoine,” she rasped out, earning Maud’s attention.

        “He’s fine, physically. Mentally? He’s scared shitless.” Maud told her, her face turning into a worried expression, watching [Y/N] shaken form. The pair neared the exit with the guard, who helped them guide them into the car that was waiting for them. Maud let her get inside the car first, placing a blanket around her in the process to keep her warm.

        [Y/N] had her knees closed up to her chest as incoherent mutters emitted from her lips as she stared at nothing. Maud let out a sigh, her heart clenching at the sight of her best friend. She placed a hand on her shoulder, gently removing dirt from her hair. She watched her shift in her seat, turning her body toward her, her lips slowly opening. “I watched a man die, Maud.” [Y/N] whispered, her trembling hands fiddling with the cotton blanket as she blankly stared at Maud.

        Before Antoine’s sister could voice her thoughts, the car stopped. The car door opened, and the same guard held his hand out for [Y/N], giving her a look of sympathy. She sank into her seat, her shoulders jumping to her ears as she looked at the man with an angsty look. She looked at Maud, who gave her a comforting smile.

        Taking the man’s hand, she stepped out of the vehicle. The cold wind ruffled her hair, hitting her skin and making her flinch at the sensation. Her face felt bruised from all the crying and her throat was prickling, almost like needles were piercing into her jugular making her have a hard time breathing.

        Maud held her arm and guided her to her family, who were standing beside an anxious Antoine, whose body was turned away. She gave them a small smile before calling out to them, making them instantly turn their attention to the girls.

        Once Antoine locked eyes with [Y/N], he broke into a fit of cries before bursting into a run. He took her into his arms, his body shaking uncontrollably as his lips mumbled incoherent things inside her neck, choking on his sobs. “I was so fucking worried about you. God, I thought I lost you.” he cried, his shoulders shaking as he felt her arms wrapping around his neck.

        [Y/N] hid her face into his chest, pulling him closer to her body as she inhaled his warmth. She sniffled, slowly pulling away, and looked at him, her face turning into a frown. He mirrored her expression, his scowl deepening at her state. Dried blood was smeared on her left cheek and her mascara was stained under her eyes along with a small bruise on her left eyebrow.

        Antoine cursed, tears sliding down his chin. “Oh my God, is that blood? Are you hurt? Why are you covered in blood, mon amour? (my love).” He hiccuped, his shaky hands cupping her face, trying to wipe the dried blood with his thumb.

        His hand traveled to her body, his hands searching for any injury, but found none. [Y/N] grabbed his hands, bringing them to her lips and planting light kisses. She gave him a tired smile, her bloodshot eyes tinted with a slight glint. “It’s not my blood, honey. I’m okay.” she reassured, caressing his hands with her thumb.

        Antoine sighed in relief, the knot in his stomach ceasing. He drew a deep exhale, blinking away his tears before taking her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, prepping small pecks around her hairline and hugging her close to his body. “I thought I lost you. I thought– you–” he wobbled with his words, shaking his head as he closed his eyes, rocking them back and forth.

        [Y/N]’s stomach churned, her eyes softening. She pulled away from his embrace, but had her arms placed around his waist. Her hand drifted up to hold the side of his neck as her thumb brushed his jaw. He melted into her touch, reaching up to cover his hand with hers. “You didn’t. I’m right here, baby.” she told him, her voice barely above a whisper, but he heard her nonetheless.

        She wiped a tear away with her thumb, her tired eyes trailing over his features with her lips curved upwards. She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before resting her forehead against his. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay, Antoine.” she said in a soothing tone, planting another soft kiss on his lips as they sank into each other’s embrace. 

Thawed

Kimi Räikkönen x sunshine!Reader

Summary: the many times throughout the years that only the warmth of his wife could thaw the Iceman

“He’s just so … cold,” your aunt comments, wrinkling her nose at Kimi’s back as he heads to the bar. It’s the first time you’ve brought him to a family event.

You bristle, prepared to defend your new boyfriend. “He’s not cold once you get to know him. He’s just a private person.”

Your aunt sniffs. “Still, he barely said two words all night. And that nickname — the Iceman! I don’t like it.”

You straighten your spine. “Well I do. His thoughtfulness and loyalty outweigh any lack of words.”

As you speak, you feel your doubts about mismatched personalities fade. Opposites attract for a reason.

Your aunt looks unconvinced, but you pay her no mind. You’re falling for the quiet Finn with a heart of gold. And you won’t let anyone’s disapproval chill that flame.

When Kimi returns, you lean up and kiss his cheek fondly. He looks pleasantly surprised. Let them judge. You see the real man inside.

***

“Smash it! Smash it!” The rowdy groomsman chants as you and Kimi cut into your wedding cake.

Other guests take up the chant, clamoring for Kimi to shove cake in your face per tradition. But you had quietly asked him not to — you don’t want frosting up your nose and ruining your makeup on your wedding day.

Kimi’s eyes meet yours, a silent question. You give a slight shake of your head. His expression hardens with resolve.

In one smooth motion, he whirls and smashes the slice of cake directly into the rowdy groomsman’s face. Icing splatters everywhere. The room goes silent.

“Here you go, since you seem to want the cake smashed so bad,” Kimi says coldly.

The groomsman splutters in shock. You have to hide your smile behind your hand.

Kimi winks at you as he licks icing off his fingers. “Now, where were we?”

Heart swelling, you lean in to kiss your wonderful, cake-covered husband. No one gets in the way of your wishes on your wedding day.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you make your way through the crowds, weaving between mechanics and engineers going about their race day routines. The smells of rubber and gasoline hang thick in the air. You smile and nod at familiar faces, receiving knowing looks in return.

Everyone here knows who you are — the bubbly, outgoing wife of the Iceman himself. The unlikely pairing has been the talk of Formula 1 ever since you started dating a few years ago. You’re warm and chatty. He’s cool and laconic. But somehow, it works.

You find Kimi in the Ferrari motorhome, sipping an energy drink, game face on. His brows are furrowed in concentration, icy grey eyes focused straight ahead. You know not to disturb him right now. This is business time.

Slipping into the seat beside him, you pull out your phone and scroll aimlessly, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you. The hustle and noise of the paddock fades into the background.

Finally, Kimi drains the last drops from his can and crushes it in his hand. He turns to you, the stern expression melting away. His eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tick upward ever so slightly.

“Morning,” he says quietly, voice gravelly.

You beam at him. “Good morning, love. Ready to go racing today?”

He nods, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did, thanks to my very comfy race driver pillow.” You wink.

Kimi snorts, the creases around his eyes deepening. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your temple.

Around you, mechanics and team members try and fail to pretend they aren’t glancing your way, still not used to seeing the Iceman so openly affectionate. But Kimi doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“I’ll see you after,” he says, standing up and giving your hand a squeeze. His face settles back into cool concentration as he strides out to prepare for the race.

You settle in to watch qualifying, heart swelling with pride and love for your Finnish fireball.

***

“Kimi, the stewards want to speak with you about the incident with Perez on lap 37.”

Kimi’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “Typical,” he mutters.

You touch his arm reassuringly. “Go on, I’ll wait here for you.”

He nods, striding off to the steward’s office, race suit half unzipped and hair disheveled. You know he’ll be lucky to escape without a penalty. Kimi has never been one to mince words or hide his displeasure with other drivers. You can only imagine the icy staredown happening behind those closed doors right now.

Twenty minutes later, he emerges looking ready to smash a table. You jump up and hurry over.

“Well? What did they say?”

Kimi’s scowl deepens, if that’s even possible. “Ten second penalty. Ridiculous.” He spits out something in Finnish you’re glad you don’t understand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You drove brilliantly today.”

He shakes his head and stalks down the hall towards the paddock. You scurry after him, nearly jogging to match his long angry strides.

“Forget it. Not your fault the stewards are blind.”

You slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. Immediately you feel some of the tension leave his body. He glances down at you, the hint of a smile breaking through the thunderclouds.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say gently. “I’ll make you your favorite dinner, open a nice bottle of wine ...”

He nods, expression softening. “Okay. Sounds good.”

You smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. The stormy Finn may have a heart of ice on the track, but you know better. He just needs a little sunshine sometimes.

***

You pause in the kitchen doorway, heart melting at the scene before you. Kimi sits on the living room floor, your baby niece perched happily in his lap. He bounces her gently on his knee as she squeals with delight, the hint of a smile on his usually stoic face.

“Faster Unca Kimi, faster!” She cries, unruly curls flying.

He chuckles and picks up the pace, eliciting delighted giggles from her. Your sister watches nearby, still looking a bit bemused at seeing the Iceman so good natured and playful.

Finally Kimi stops, feigning exhaustion. “Whew, that’s enough for Uncle Kimi,” he says, lifting her up and pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “You’re too fast!”

She dissolves into giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. He hugs her back, looking more content than you’ve ever seen him. Your heart feels fit to burst.

“Who wants ice cream?” You announce, carrying in two bowls.

“Me, me!” Your niece starts to squirm in Kimi’s lap, reaching eagerly for her treat.

He stands, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders. “Let’s go have ice cream on the porch, give your mama a break,” he says. She kicks her little legs gleefully.

Your sister shoots you a grateful smile as Kimi carries her outside. You grin and wink. Who would believe it — the Iceman, a big softie for kids. But you know better. Under that cool exterior beats a heart of gold.

***

The crowds pressing around the circuit are suffocating today. Fans shove programs and merch at you for Kimi to sign. One overzealous teenage boy tries to wrap you in an uninvited hug.

Suddenly Kimi is there, gently but firmly detaching the boy’s hands from your arms. His face is thunderous.

“Back. Off.” The boy stumbles away wide-eyed.

Kimi keeps a protective grip on your shoulder as he marches you briskly from the paddock. Once inside the privacy of the motorhome, he cups your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His tone is urgent.

You shake your head, still a bit shaken. “Just got grabby. Thank you for the rescue.”

Kimi exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t like you getting swarmed out there.”

You smile wryly. “Hazards of being Mrs. Iceman.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. Those crowds make me nervous.”

You kiss him softly. “I’ll be okay.”

His eyes bore into yours, icy blue melting into tenderness. “Still. Stay close to me out there from now on. So I can protect what’s most precious.”

Your heart flutters under his intent gaze. You lace your fingers through his, feeling infinitely cherished.

“Always.”

***

“Kimi, your phone is ringing again,” you call from the couch.

He doesn’t respond, gaze fixed intently on the TV as he navigates a difficult turn in his racing video game. The phone buzzes angrily on the coffee table.

With a sigh, you reach for it. The caller ID says “Bane of My Existence.” You frown. That’s the third call from her this week that he’s ignored.

“Kimi ...”

“Hmm?” He pauses the game and glances at you, eyebrows raised.

You hold up the phone. “It’s your PR officer again. Don’t you think you should answer and see what she wants?”

His expression clouds over. “No. Told her not to call me anymore.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You keep your tone light and curious.

He shrugs. “Kept trying to get me to do stuff. Go to parties and all that.”

You bite back a smile, warmth flooding your chest. Your shy homebody of a husband, sought after on the celebrity circuit but wanting none of it.

“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t lured you away yet,” you tease gently.

The corners of his mouth quirk up as he takes the phone from you and sets it aside before pulling you into his lap.

“Don’t worry,” he rumbles, nudging your nose with his. “You’re the only party I need.”

You kiss him softly, heart overflowing. The glitz and glam means nothing to your Kimi. Home is where his heart is.

***

You awake to whispered voices and the smell of something burning. Bleary-eyed, you shuffle to the kitchen doorway.

Kimi stands at the stove, hair endearingly mussed from sleep. He’s scowling down at a frying pan, clutching a spatula like a weapon. Your brother leans against the counter, trying and failing to stifle laughter.

“What’s going on?” You ask through a yawn.

Kimi’s scowl deepens. “Trying to make you breakfast. Not going well.” He prods the blackened lump in the pan disdainfully.

Your brother snorts. “He nearly set off the fire alarm. I got here just in time.”

“I told you I don’t cook,” Kimi mutters, avoiding your gaze.

You pad over and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, love.”

He relaxes back into your embrace. Your brother mimes gagging behind his back. You stick out your tongue at him.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you say, gently prying the spatula from Kimi’s hand. “Just go slow ...”

Soon, the three of you are gathered around the table, eating the pancakes you made together. Kimi’s are a bit misshapen, but edible.

He looks inordinately pleased as you sample his. “Good?”

You beam at him and squeeze his hand. “The very best.”

His rare unguarded smile warms you more deeply than any breakfast ever could.

***

You awaken to the dipping of the mattress as Kimi slips under the covers. The red glow of his bedside clock reads 3:48 AM.

“Everything okay?” You murmur, rolling over to face him.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. You feel the steady thump of his heart under your palm.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” His voice rumbles low near your ear.

You nuzzle into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. “Worrying about the race this weekend?”

He exhales, his breath stirring your hair. “No. Just thinking.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you lift your head to study his face in the dimness. His eyes shine in the faint light, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your own heart skip.

“What is it?” You whisper.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his callused fingers infinitely tender. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here. That you’re mine.”

Emotion swells in your chest, words escaping you. You cup his stubbled face and guide his lips down to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

When you finally draw apart, he pulls you close again, tucking your head under his chin. No more words are needed. You understand each other perfectly in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. Soon his breathing evens out in sleep, and you follow him down, still nestled safe in the circle of his arms.

***

You’re just drizzling the last of the chocolate over the molten lava cakes when you hear Kimi’s keys in the front door. A smile spreads across your face. Perfect timing.

He wanders in a few moments later, hair adorably rumpled, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Mmm, something smells good,” he says, crossing the kitchen to wrap you in a hug.

You kiss his scratchy cheek. “Made your favorite for dessert. Now go get cleaned up while I finish.”

He squeezes you tighter, stubble tickling your neck as he nuzzles into it. “Can’t I have you for dessert instead?”

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Go on, you. Plenty of time for that later.”

He steals one more kiss before sauntering off, a grin playing about his lips. You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. After all these years, he still makes your heart race as if you’re teenagers again.

When he returns, you’ve set out the seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and the two perfect chocolate lava cakes. His eyes light up.

“Have I told you lately that you’re the best wife ever?” He asks, pulling out your chair.

“Hmm, I think you could stand to mention it more,” you tease.

He takes your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes pierce yours. “You’re the best wife ever,” he says solemnly.

You lean in and kiss him, happiness bubbling up inside you. However many times he says it, you’ll never get tired of hearing it.

***

“So, what’s it like being married to the grumpiest driver on the grid?” The reporter shoves a microphone in your face, invasive and smug.

You recoil, blindsided. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, he’s not exactly Mr. Personality.” The reporter leans closer. “Does the Iceman thaw out at home or just freeze you out?”

Humiliation burns through you. Before you can respond, Kimi is there, gently moving you aside. His eyes are blazing.

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that,” he growls at the reporter. “You know nothing about our life.”

The reporter withers under Kimi’s icy glare. You feel a rush of gratitude for your protective husband.

Kimi turns to you, face softening. “Let’s get out of here.”

Once you’re alone, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Sorry you had to deal with that. He had no right to badger you about our marriage.”

You lean into him, safe in the circle of his arms. “It’s okay. You came to my rescue like a knight in shining racing gear.”

He snorts. “Hardly a knight. But for you, always.” He kisses you tenderly.

No matter what the media says, your life together is not theirs to define. Your love writes its own quiet story each day.

***

You awake in the dark to a loud crash from downstairs. Heart pounding, you shake Kimi’s shoulder.

“Kimi, wake up! I think someone’s broken in.”

He’s up in an instant, alert and poised to strike. You hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. Kimi pushes you behind him and grabs the baseball bat by the bed.

The footsteps reach the landing and a shadowy figure appears in the doorway. Kimi flicks on the light, bat raised menacingly. You both freeze.

It’s Sebastian Vettel, eyes wide, hands raised in surrender. “Whoa whoa, it’s just me!”

Kimi’s shoulders slump as he lowers the bat. “Seb? What the hell are you doing here?”

Seb runs a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in town and my rental car broke down outside. I was hoping I could crash here tonight.”

Kimi sighs, shaking his head. “You couldn’t call first?”

Seb grins sheepishly. “Forgot to charge my phone.”

You step out from behind Kimi, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, love. Let’s get some fresh sheets for the guest room.” You turn to Seb. “We’ll figure out your car in the morning.”

Seb’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, I really owe you guys.”

As you make up the bed, you share an amused look with Kimi. Only Seb could turn up unannounced in the middle of the night and get away with it. But then again, that’s why you love him.

***

You’re waiting at the finish line, heart in your throat as the cars scream past for the final lap. Kimi is battling for a podium finish, but has fallen back after a poorly timed pit stop. He’s gaining ground fast, but is he out of time?

The crowd roars as the frontrunners cross the line. P2 … P3 … waiting for P4. Come on, Kimi.

Then you see it, the red and white Alfa Romeo flashing past the checkered flag, narrowly clinching third. You leap in the air, cheering loudly. Kimi did it!

You rush down towards the pits, arriving just as Kimi climbs from his car. His race suit is drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, but his eyes are bright. When he spots you, a grin breaks across his face.

You throw your arms around him, heedless of how sweaty he is. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

He lifts you off your feet in a bear hug, laughing breathlessly in your ear. The sound sends joy bursting through your veins.

As he sets you down, you cradle his stubbled face in your hands. “I love you,” you say fiercely.

His grin softens to something more tender. He tilts his forehead against yours, heedless of the crowds milling nearby.

“Love you too,” he murmurs.

The cameras flash around you, eager to capture this rare unguarded moment. But Kimi only has eyes for you. Third place has never felt so golden.

***

“Ugh, your wife is so annoyingly positive all the time. It’s nauseating,” the other driver’s girlfriend gripes to Kimi at a race afterparty.

You freeze mid-laugh, stung by her disdainful tone. Kimi’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“I would rather have a positive wife than a miserable cow like you,” he says coldly. “Come on, let’s go.”

He takes your arm and steers you firmly away. You blink back tears, embarrassed.

“Hey,” Kimi says softly, tilting your chin up. “Don’t listen to her. I love how positive you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for spreading joy.”

You give a watery chuckle. “Really? You don’t find it annoying?”

“Are you kidding? Your light balances out my darkness perfectly.” He punctuates this with a swift kiss. “You keep me from being a constant grump.”

You laugh and swat his chest. “Impossible. No one can tame the Iceman’s grumpiness.”

He smiles tenderly and pulls you close. “You do. Don’t change for anyone else.”

***

You pace the bathroom floor, heart racing. The little white stick sits innocently on the counter, but its result will change everything. One blue line for negative, two for positive.

Three minutes have never felt so long.

When the timer finally beeps, you take a deep breath and turn it over with a shaky hand. Two blue lines stare back at you.

Positive.

Emotions swell within you — joy, nervousness, excitement. You and Kimi have been trying for a baby, but it still feels so surreal now that it’s actually happening.

You hear the front door open and Kimi call out your name. It’s time. Clutching the test behind your back, you go to him.

He must read something in your face, because his brows furrow in concern. “Everything okay?”

Your face splits into a teary grin. “Everything’s perfect.” You bring the test out from behind you and hold it up wordlessly.

Kimi’s eyes widen. For once, the unflappable Finn seems utterly flapped. “You … we ...” He stares at the two little lines, then back at you. “We’re having a baby?”

You nod, vision blurring with happy tears. With a joyful shout, Kimi sweeps you up in his arms and spins you around. His excitement is boyish and uncontained.

When he sets you down, he cradles your face in both hands. “I’m going to be a father,” he whispers in awe.

You put your hand over his, overjoyed tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re going to be the best father.”

***

You fidget impatiently on the exam table, Kimi’s hand clutched in yours. After months of waiting, today is your first ultrasound. If all looks well, you’ll get to see your baby for the very first time.

“What’s taking so long?” You huff. Kimi smiles and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Relax, they’ll be here soon.” His calm steadies you, as it always does.

Finally the technician arrives and asks you to lift up your shirt. She squeezes cool gel over your swelling belly and begins moving the ultrasound wand through it.

The screen comes to life, showing grainy black and white images you can’t decipher. The technician frowns, adjusting some dials. Your heart leaps into your throat.

Sensing your distress, Kimi gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. Just be patient,” he murmurs.

After a few tense moments, the technician’s face clears. She turns the screen towards you with a smile. “There we are. There’s your baby.”

You gaze in wonder at the little shape filling the screen, tiny arms and legs visibly squirming. Your vision blurs with tears. That’s your child, your little miracle.

Beside you Kimi is utterly transfixed, eyes shining. “That’s our baby,” he whispers reverently.

He lifts your intertwined hands and presses his lips to your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, voice husky with emotion. “For this gift.”

You have no words. You simply lean into him, his solid warmth anchoring you as joy washes over you both.

***

You stare glumly at your reflection in the mirror. At eight months pregnant, you feel like a beluga whale. Your ankles are swollen, your back aches constantly, and none of your clothes fit over your enormous bump anymore.

Voices sound from downstairs as Kimi arrives home. You feel tears prick your eyes. You don’t want him to see you like this, a beached whale in sweatpants.

Sniffling, you ease onto the bed and bury your face in a pillow. Kimi finds you there a few minutes later. The mattress dips as he sits down and rubs your back.

“What’s wrong, love?”

You shake your head, embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Gently he turns you over, brushing the hair from your damp cheeks. “Talk to me,” he says softly.

A sob escapes you. “I’m hideous like this! I’ve gotten so huge. You must be disgusted looking at me.”

Kimi’s brow furrows. He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his earnest gaze. “Is that what you think? That I find you disgusting?”

Ashamed, you drop your eyes, fresh tears spilling over.

“Look at me,” he says gently. You do. His ice blue eyes pierce yours. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now, carrying our child.”

He places a reverent hand on your belly. “You are giving us the most precious gift in the world. How could I not find you beautiful?”

His words pierce your heart. You cover his hand with yours. “I love you,” you whisper.

He gathers you close, dropping feather-light kisses over your face. “And I love you. Always.”

You cling to him, feeling foolish and so very loved.

***

A contraction rips through you, more intense than any before. You cry out, squeezing Kimi’s hand desperately.

“Breathe, love, breathe,” he coaches, face taut.

You gasp air into your lungs as the vice grip on your insides finally releases. Kimi dabs the sweat from your brow with a cool cloth.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Our little one will be here soon.”

Even through the haze of pain, his voice anchors you. Your Kimi, always steady as a rock.

Too soon, another contraction wrings a ragged shout from you. Kimi never leaves your side, letting you nearly crush his hand as you ride out the agony.

“I can’t … I can’t do this ...” you sob.

Kimi presses his lips to your temple. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m right here with you.”

His faith buoys you, even as your body is wracked with wave after wave of excruciating spasms. Your world narrows to the circle of his arms.

Then finally, miraculously, comes the thin, piercing cry of your child. Your exhausted tears mingle with joyful laughter.

Kimi cuts the cord with shaky hands, eyes shining brighter than you’ve ever seen. When they lay the squalling, pink bundle on your chest, the universe crystallizes to this one perfect point.

Your family, whole at last.

***

You awake in the small hours before dawn, reaching across the cool sheets only to find Kimi’s side of the bed empty. Padding down the hallway on silent feet, you peer into the nursery.

Your breath catches in your throat. Kimi stands over the crib, your tiny daughter cradled against his chest. One large hand gently supports her downy head.

He’s speaking softly to her in Finnish, too low for you to understand. But the love shining through his voice brings tears to your eyes. Your tough, taciturn Finn transformed into a doting father.

As he lays her tenderly back in the crib, you hear him murmur in a whisper, “Don’t worry little one, your isä will always protect you. I promise you that.”

He tucks the blanket snugly around her and brushes a feather-light kiss over her forehead. The tenderness of it makes your heart ache.

You slip silently back to bed before he notices you, not wanting to intrude on this private moment between father and daughter. But the image stays seared in your mind.

When Kimi joins you a few minutes later, you turn and press your face into his chest so he won’t see your tears of joy. His arms come around you reflexively.

“You okay?” He rumbles.

You nod, a lump in your throat. Your family is so very blessed.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you push your daughter’s stroller through the chaotic maze of the paddock. She’s only six months old, wide-eyed at all the commotion.

Mechanics pause to coo over her, their grease-smudged fingers surprisingly gentle. PR people stop to fuss and take photos. Word has spread — the Iceman’s baby girl is here.

Kimi strides over, stooping to drop a kiss on your head and tickle his daughter’s tummy. His race suit is on, grey eyes intense and focused.

“Sure you don’t want me to take her while you concentrate?” You ask.

He shakes his head, a corner of his mouth quirked up. “I need to see my two favorite girls before I drive.”

Your heart melts. Kimi scoops her up, and she clutches at his nose and gurgles. Nearby, you hear shutters clicking madly. The Iceman undone by a baby — it’ll be all over the press tonight.

But Kimi only has eyes for his daughter, face soft in a way it never is before a race. With a deep breath, he cuddles her close and murmurs something in Finnish before handing her back to you.

You kiss his cheek. “Go show them how it’s done, Daddy.”

He winks and strides off towards the pit lane, determination in his stride. Your daughter waves a chubby fist as he disappears from view.

No matter how many races he wins, now his best trophy waits for him at the finish line. His family.

***

“Must be lonely married to a man called the Iceman,” the reporter says slyly. “He’s not known for being warm and affectionate.”

Anger flashes through you. How dare this stranger imply your marriage is lacking.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” you reply sharply. “Kimi is very attentive and loving in private.”

The reporter raises her eyebrows. “But his public image ...”

You cut her off. “That’s all it is — an image. Kimi deserves more respect than tired old stereotypes.”

Your voice softens as you glance to where Kimi is chatting with fans, his body angled protectively towards you.

“There is no one kinder or more loyal than my husband. He cherishes our family greatly, he just doesn’t flaunt it to the world.”

The reporter looks taken aback by your fervent defense. You almost feel sorry for her. She’ll never truly know the man behind the Iceman legend. But you do and you won’t tolerate anyone maligning him.