To Absolutely No One's Request: An Updated And Expanded Revision Of The A Ship Chart I Made Back In August

I mean

He is not ugly but he is not that handsome... But he has the charm, got it?

Small

Summary: Erling x reader, size kink, SMUT!

Erling was an absolute giant. Regardless of how tall you were, Erling had a special talent of making you look so small compared to him. He absolutely adored your height difference, loving the way his clothes suffocated your frame. He would always tease you, asking for kisses and watching you struggle on your tippy toes as you tried reaching his lips with yours. If you were ever tired, he wouldn't hesitate to carry you around. His favorite thing about your height difference was the way you had to look up at him. Your beautiful eyes glistening under the lights, staring straight into his soul. 

He also loved your height difference when it came to sex. However, he knew that he had to be very careful with you. Since he was much bigger, he made sure you were alright with everything happening. He was very adamant about having a safeword and prepping you before he would penetrate you. He knew you loved it when his tongue licked your folds, and his thick fingers spread your tight walls. He liked asking you whether you thought you could handle him. 

“I’ll try to,” you would say, innocently smiling up at him. When he finally did slip himself inside you, he would always pause and make sure you were okay before slipping out and slamming back in. He was infatuated with the feeling of his large cock intruding your tight walls, the warmness almost making him cum instantly. He loved to take you with your back pressed on the bed. With this view, he could watch your tits bounce with his powerful thrusts. He could also see how his large hand perfectly wrapped around your small throat. You would look up at him with those same beautiful eyes, only now they were droopy with lust. But the best part of this view was the way he could see his cock protruding from your stomach. The bulge was subtle but served a powerful reminder about how big he was compared to you. He would be hypnotized, staring at your stomach as he entered you, waiting to see how far he reached inside of you. You would always be a moaning and whimpering mess under him, his hips slamming against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your aching, tight cunt. He would slip his large thumb into your small mouth, feeling your tongue swirl around it. 

“Look at you, taking me like a good girl,” He would praise you, his thrusts continuing their brutal pace. You would have tears streaming down your face, feeling the immense pleasure from his thick cock filling your clenching pussy. 

“So…big,” you would let out, boosting his ego as his hips began jackhammering into you. By now, the room would be filled with lewd noises; skin slapping skin, moans, grunts, and the bed slamming against the wall. You would always be the first to come, followed shortly by Erling. He would make sure his large load filled you up to the brim. He would slip out, you whimpering in response as your cunt became empty again. 

Erling knew you would be sore by the end of it all, and he made sure to care for you adequately and accordingly. A warm bath would be made, and he would carry you in, your legs completely numb and useless. He would bathe with you, and for the millionth time, your beautiful eyes would look back up at him.

No but why can I see Checo and Leclerc! sister sending the overprotective brothers updates while they're on holidays or everyone sending pictures of Leclerc! Sister when she falls asleep in most random places.

Why do I feel so called out about the part where Leclerc!reader falls asleep at the most random places???

Since you’re the only female daughter of Pascale, your brothers tend to be overly protective of you, even when you got married to the point that they threatened Checo to send updates of you whenever you’re both on vacation or just together outside. So Sergio had no choice but to make a group chat of him together with your three brothers.

Your significant other and brothers kept this a secret from you as to not worry you or think that they don’t trust you. They do trust you, with their whole life, but they’re scared to lose you. After all, in their eyes you’re the princess, the lady Leclerc of the family aside from your mother, so they held great pride when it came to you.

It was summer break for both you and Checo so the two of you decided to getaway from the same place and go to Maldives. Your brothers didn’t know about this, but you had told your mother about it which she was okay with. When Charles was looking for you the next day, Pascale only shrugged saying she had no idea where you are. And that only left Charles to message the groupchat with Checo about your whereabouts.

When the notification popped up on Sergio’s phone, you were both having lunch in a bungalow. Checo looking at his phone, immediately saw Charles’ message, and when you weren’t looking, he snapped a photo of you sending it to the groupchat. When Charles received the photo, he nodded to himself before sending a “have fun” to Checo.

When three hours has passed, you decided to drag Checo and go scuba diving. While your significant other protested and thrashed, you were having none of it explaining to him that what was the purpose of having a vacation in Maldives if you weren’t going to scuba dive. Checo knowing that he won’t be able to argue anymore, let himself get dragged by you.

As he enjoyed himself getting pulled by you to the ocean, he took another candid photo of you, smiling to himself. He then sent it to the groupchat with the caption, “scuba diving” before leaving his phone at the given cupboard.

When Sergio saw you standing at the edge of the dock waiting for him, he smiled softly to himself as he admired you. He watched you as you basked in the warm, ethereal glow of the setting sun. The sun's gentle caress highlighting every contour of your face, casting long, romantic shadows. Your eyes sparkle, reflecting the hues of the sky, and your smile radiates pure happiness. In that fleeting moment, time seems to stand still, and Sergio was once again reminded of the beauty of love and nature coming together in perfect harmony.

When he was only an inch left away from you, he leaned down and captured your lips, pulling you into a soft and affectionate kiss. You were astounded by what he did, but you didn’t protest instead you pulled him closer wrapping your arms around his neck before pulling him with you to the ocean.

You both fell in the cold waters, and when you both got up to the surface, your husband was looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. You let out a gentle laugh as you swam closer to him, fixing his soaked hair and putting it to the side before pulling home into a kiss again, this time no more joking.

When he pulled away, he gave a cheeky grin then splashed your face with water. And let’s just stay instead of actually doing the itinerary, you and Checo instead just swam around the ocean, enjoying each other’s presence.

When the sun has set and the moon shone brightly on the dark sky, Checo decided that it was time for both of you to get out and have dinner. Hearing your stomach grumble, you followed him out the water, grabbing yourself and drying yourself up.

Checo noticing your shivers, covered you with his own towel before wrapping his arms around your shoulder, warming you up. You leaned yourself on him as he guided you to the bungalow.

When he saw you comfortably on the chair, he went up and grabbed dinner for the both of you. But when he sat down and arrived on your table, he was starstrucked at how you managed to fall asleep with your posture still fixed.

Holding back his chuckle, he took another photo and sent it to the group chat, this time the one with Pascale. Almost all of them immediately sent a reply, laughing and talking about how you’re always sleeping anywhere any time possible.

Checo knowing how tired you must be, tapped you softly on the shoulder and asked if you wanted to go rest instead of having dinner. You groggily shook your head, grabbing your utensils as you let out a gentle yawn making Sergio smile.

As you both finished eating, your husband took both your plates and placed it in their respective places before returning to you and helping you up. He guided you so that you were standing behind him before he crouched down and helped you get on his back while you half-sleepily wrapped your arms around him.

Carrying you in a piggyback ride, he slowly walked to your shared hut, humming quietly as he smiled to himself while thinking of those wholesome moment with you. It never ceases to amaze him how you have the ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime as long as you’re exhausted. It doesn’t matter how uncomfortable it would feel after or what body part of you will ache, you will still fall asleep anyway.

When he arrived at your room, he gently placed you in the middle of the bed before disappearing into the bathroom and appearing again with a wet face towel. He went to your side and cleaned you up, removing your swimwear and replacing it with his own clean shirt. Finishing up with you, he covered your lower extremities with the thin blanket provided before taking one last photo of you then sending it to the groupchat and saying good night to your brothers as well as he cleaned himself too.

*fast forward after break*

As mentioned, it has been a weird habit of yours to fall asleep anytime and anywhere. And it’s no secret to your significant other, family members, and even co-drivers on how you are able to do that. In fact, even your fans know about that peculiar habit of yours and they adored you more ever since.

Since you were driving for Ferrari, you are team mates with your brother and let’s say the both of you are quite unstoppable when working together. But today, it seemed like none was going to your plans as two red flags have already occured and it’s just the second free practice.

The first red flag occured when Hulkenburg crashed into the barriers because of a break issue and that caused around 20 minutes of the first free practice to be wasted. What you did, however, was you asked your engineer to play soft classical music before dozing off in your car as you waited for the session to continue. When the cameras showed a display of you, everyone watching chuckled and shook their heads, clearly aware of your silly antics.

Now for the second time around, the red flag happened because even thought it was just the second free practice, everyone decided to play bumpy cars and crashed into one another, and by everyone you meant George, Max, and Lando.

But now instead of staying in your car, you went out of your car, and you sat beside your race engineer, deciding to talk about the upgrades brought into the car before you left and went to the Red Bull garage, specifically your husband’s garage.

On the way you greeted, Hugh Bird, Checo’s engineer and asking him where your significant other was. Hugh only shrugged, mentioning the last time he saw your husband was on his way to relieve himself. And upon deciding that you’ll wait for him, you sat at the little corner of his garage’s side.

Holding your knees to your chest, you leaned your forehead on top of your knees before even realising that you were falling into slumber. You only woke up from your power nap when you felt someone sit beside you. Looking up, you saw your husband, a wide cheeky grin plastered on his face before he kissed your cheeks.

“Nice nap, amor? No stiff necks?” He asked teasingly.

Scoffing, you nudged him softly and you rolled your eyes which made him laugh. And when he was done with his laughing fit, you leaned your head on his shoulder. Checo realising what you were doing, he guided your head on his shoulder before kissing the crown of your head.

“You can nap more, comfortably this time. I’ll wake you up when the session is green flagged.”

Yawning to his statement, you gently nodded your head to at least let him know you understood. He once more planted a kiss on your head before he took your hands in his and caressed it gently.

The next time you woke up, Checo was poking your legs and opening your eyes, you were greeted by the cameras of F1 medias and your brother, Charles.

Squinting as the flash hits your eyes, you looked at Checo who only gave you a sheepish grin as he stood up and helped you up too.

“Recharged again, mi cielo?” He asked softly and you nodded, stretching your body as you fixed your race suit.

Charles impatiently waiting for you, said good bye to your husband and grabbed your hands, dragging you outside your team’s rival garage and bringing you to your home turf.

Laughing to his childish behaviour, your laugh only disappeared when you saw the screen replay the video of you and Checo in the corner. Now it was Charles’ turn to laugh at your reaction, not until you punched him on the arm gently.

When your race engineers said that the session was resumed, you got ready and went into race mode.

MY GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER 😭

Better Than Melatonin

Kinktober Day 1 → Cockwarming 💋 Toto Wolff

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The room is dark, lit only by the dim, golden glow from the bedside lamp. Toto sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as you toss and turn. The sheets tangle around your legs, and your face is scrunched up in frustration.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, his voice low, almost a rumble.

You freeze for a second, not expecting him to still be awake. “I’m fine,” you reply, though it’s clear that you’re anything but.

Toto raises an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been moving around for the last hour. You’re not fine.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know … I just can’t seem to get comfortable.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, just continues to watch you, eyes narrowed as if he’s trying to figure something out. It’s unnerving, the way he studies you, as if you’re a puzzle he’s determined to solve. Finally, he speaks, his voice a deep, soothing timbre.

“Come here.”

You hesitate, unsure of what he’s planning. “Toto, I don’t-”

“Come here,” he repeats, more insistent this time. There’s a tone in his voice that makes it clear he’s not going to take no for an answer.

Reluctantly, you scoot closer to him, feeling the mattress dip under his weight. He’s so much larger than you, a wall of muscle and authority, and yet, there’s something undeniably comforting about his presence.

You rest your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat thrumming beneath your ear. For a moment, the world seems to settle, the chaos in your mind quieting down just a little.

But then you shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t feel so … awkward.

“You’re still tense,” he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

You nod, biting your lip. “I guess … I guess I’m just not used to this.”

“This?” He prompts, his hand sliding up your side, his fingers trailing along your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“Sharing a bed,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper. “With someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” He echoes, and there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

You huff, frustrated by your own inability to explain. “You know what I mean. You’re … you’re Toto Wolff. And I’m just … me.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through your entire body. “You’re not just anything, Häschen.” His hand cups your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, intense, and for a moment, you feel like you’re drowning in them. “You’re mine.”

The words send a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and nerves. “Toto …”

“Shh,” he hushes you, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You want to argue, to tell him that you’re fine, that you don’t need him to take care of you, but the words die on your tongue as he shifts, his body pressing you into the mattress. There’s no urgency in his movements, no rush, just a slow, deliberate claiming of space. His hands are everywhere, warm and sure, and before you know it, he’s positioned himself between your legs.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s doing. “Toto, wait, I-”

“Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He’s so close now, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

But you don’t want him to stop. You want this, want him, even though you’re still nervous, still unsure. There’s something about the way he touches you, the way he looks at you, that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

So you nod, giving him permission without words. He understands, of course he does, and slowly, carefully, he presses into you, filling you in a way that makes your mind go blissfully blank.

You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as he settles deep inside you. He’s so big, so overwhelming, but it’s not painful. It’s just … intense.

“Easy,” he soothes, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Breathe.”

You do as he says, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest, the steady rhythm of your breathing. He stays still, just holding you, filling you, and somehow, that’s enough to calm the frantic thoughts racing through your mind.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening in a way that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. “Better?”

You nod again, feeling a little dazed. “Yeah … better.”

“Good,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Now sleep.”

You blink up at him, confused. “Sleep? Like this?”

“Exactly like this,” he replies, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The idea of falling asleep like this, with him still inside you, is strange and yet … comforting. It’s as if he’s claiming you in a way that’s both physical and emotional, a silent promise that he’s not going to let you go.

“Okay,” you whisper, your body relaxing against him. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You close your eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body surrounding you. Slowly, the tension drains from your muscles, your mind drifting into a pleasant haze. It’s strange, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe. Safe and … loved.

Toto doesn’t move, just holds you, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. You can feel him still inside you, a constant, grounding presence that lulls you into a sense of peace.

“Sleep, Häschen,” he whispers again, and this time, you don’t fight it.

You let yourself drift, the world fading away until there’s nothing left but the steady beat of his heart and the feeling of him, warm and solid, holding you close.

***

The soft, rhythmic click of the keyboard echoes through the dimly lit room. Toto’s office is a sanctuary of sleek modernity — glass, steel, and leather, with the subtle hum of computers creating a low, constant backdrop.

His eyes are glued to the screen, sharp and focused, his mind immersed in the layers of data that demand his attention. But despite the intensity of his work, he’s aware of the time — late, far too late for you to be awake.

And yet, there’s a soft creak of the door opening behind him, barely perceptible but enough to make him pause, his hands hovering over the keyboard. He glances up, his eyes narrowing as they adjust to the sight of you standing in the doorway, hesitant and small in the oversized t-shirt you’ve borrowed from him.

“Häschen?” His voice is gentle, but there’s an edge of concern. “What are you doing up?”

You shift on your feet, unsure how to explain. Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but there’s something else there too — a need, something unspoken but clear in the way you linger in the doorway. “I … I couldn’t sleep.”

Toto sighs, his expression softening as he leans back in his chair, taking in the sight of you. You look so vulnerable, standing there with your arms wrapped around yourself, as if you’re trying to ward off some unseen cold. He knows exactly why you can’t sleep — why you’ve been struggling on nights when he’s not in bed beside you.

“Come here,” he says, his tone a mixture of command and tenderness.

You hesitate, still unsure, but the pull is too strong. Slowly, you pad across the room, the cold hardwood floor making you shiver as you approach him.

Toto watches you carefully, his gaze never leaving yours as you finally reach his desk. He reaches out, taking your hand and pulling you closer until you’re standing between his legs, his warmth already seeping into you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble sleeping?” He asks, his voice low as his hand comes up to caress your cheek.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you murmur, your eyes downcast. “I know you’re busy.”

He frowns at that, his thumb brushing against your lower lip in a gesture that’s become all too familiar. “You’re never a bother to me, Häschen. You should know that by now.”

You nod, but it’s clear you’re still holding back, your body tense despite his reassuring words. “I just … I can’t sleep without you.”

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with the weight of your vulnerability. Toto’s eyes soften, a mix of pride and concern flashing through them as he pulls you closer, his hands firm on your hips. “You need me that much, hm?”

You bite your lip, embarrassed but unable to deny it. “I guess I do.”

His response is immediate. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly, turning you so that you’re perched on his lap, your legs straddling his hips.

You let out a small gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he settles you against him. The warmth of his body, the solid feel of him beneath you, it all works to ease some of the tension from your muscles, but it’s not enough.

Toto seems to understand, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, finding purchase on your bare skin. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, just holds you there, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine. “Tell me what you need, Häschen.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. It’s a simple request, but it’s one that fills you with an odd mixture of longing and shame. “I need … I need you.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, a reassuring pressure that grounds you. “I’m right here.”

“No,” you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need you … like before.”

Toto’s hands still on your back, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then, he shifts, his hand coming up to cup your chin, tilting your face so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You want me to fill you, Häschen? Is that what you need?”

There’s no judgment in his tone, only understanding and a deep, unyielding care that makes your heart ache. You nod, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, more out of relief than anything else.

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” he murmurs, wiping the tear away with his thumb before capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t demand. Everything he does is with a deliberate slowness, an assurance that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere. His hands slide down to your hips, lifting you just enough so that he can position himself against you. You feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and there’s a moment of hesitation, a brief flash of nerves that makes you tense up.

“Shh, relax,” Toto soothes, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’ve got you, Häschen. Let me take care of you.”

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax as he slowly lowers you onto him, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside. It’s a stretch, a fullness that’s overwhelming and yet, it’s exactly what you need. The tension that’s been keeping you awake, the restless energy that’s been gnawing at you, it all melts away the moment he’s inside you.

“There you go,” Toto whispers, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

You can only nod, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you cling to him, your body trembling with relief. He doesn’t move, doesn’t thrust or push, just holds you there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so completely filled by him.

Toto’s hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he rocks you gently in his lap. “You’re doing so well, Häschen. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body surrounding you. His hands are everywhere, holding you, grounding you, and it’s not long before you feel the exhaustion creeping back in, your body finally relaxing against him.

“That’s it,” Toto murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Just sleep, Häschen. I’ll be right here.”

You try to fight it, try to stay awake, but it’s a losing battle. The combination of his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his breathing — it all works together to lull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Toto doesn’t move, doesn’t shift even an inch as you drift off. He stays still, his hands keeping you anchored to him, his eyes softening as he watches you finally find the peace that had been eluding you all night.

The minutes tick by, the silence of the room only broken by the soft sounds of your breathing, the occasional rustle of the sheets as you shift in your sleep. Toto continues to work, his fingers moving deftly over the keyboard, but his focus is only half on the screen. The other half is on you — on the way your body relaxes completely against him, on the way your lips part slightly as you breathe, on the way you trust him so implicitly to take care of you.

It’s a feeling that stirs something deep inside him, something protective, something possessive. You’re his, in every way that matters, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe, that you’re happy, that you know you’re loved.

Time slips by unnoticed as Toto works, the hours stretching out as the night deepens. Every so often, he glances down at you, checking to make sure you’re still comfortable, still resting peacefully. Each time, he finds you just as he left you, your body still pressed close to his, your breathing even and calm.

It’s only when the first hints of dawn begin to creep through the windows, the sky lightening to a soft, pale blue, that Toto finally lets out a breath, his work done for the night. He looks down at you, still asleep in his lap, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he shuts down his computer, the soft whir of the machines fading into silence. Then, with the same gentle care, he shifts you in his arms, lifting you as he stands, cradling you against his chest.

You stir slightly, a soft murmur escaping your lips, but you don’t wake, your head resting against his shoulder as he carries you out of the office and down the hallway to the bedroom. The bed is still unmade from earlier, the sheets a tangled mess, but Toto doesn’t care. All that matters is getting you settled, making sure you’re comfortable.

He lays you down carefully, his movements slow and deliberate as he pulls the covers over you. For a moment, he just stands there, watching you sleep, a strange sense of peace settling over him. You look so small, so fragile in the big bed, and yet, there’s a strength to you, a quiet resilience that he admires more than he can put into words.

Finally, he slips into bed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. You instinctively curl into him, seeking out his warmth even in sleep, and Toto can’t help but smile as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

As he settles beside you, he gently lifts your leg over his hip, positioning himself against your entrance. With a slow, careful motion, he slips back inside you, filling you completely once more.

You sigh in your sleep, a contented sound that melts into a soft moan, and your body instinctively curls closer to him, seeking his warmth and strength. Toto holds you there, his presence filling you completely, a sense of belonging settling over both of you. He strokes your back, soothing and slow, his own eyes growing heavy with sleep as the night finally gives way to dawn.

With you nestled in his arms, warm and secure, Toto allows himself to drift off, knowing that you're exactly where you belong — in his arms, perfectly content and loved.

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

I’ll Be Waiting

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Hedeby, 952

The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.

“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”

Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”

Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”

You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”

A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”

Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”

As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.

You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”

Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”

She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.

Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.

“Enter,” comes his voice from within.

You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Close the door,” he says without turning.

You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”

Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”

You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.

You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”

Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”

Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”

He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”

Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.

Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.

“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”

Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.

“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.

He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.

“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”

But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”

With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”

As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.

Vatican City, 1493

The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.

As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.

“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”

You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”

Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”

You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”

“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”

Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”

Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”

You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”

Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”

You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”

“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”

As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.

“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”

You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”

Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”

Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”

Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”

“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”

For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”

As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”

Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.

Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”

“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”

A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.

As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”

Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.

Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”

Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”

With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.

The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.

As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.

Virginia, 1863

The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.

Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.

“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.

The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”

You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.

As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”

You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”

Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”

As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”

Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”

You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”

“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”

A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”

You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”

Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”

You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”

“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.

“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”

Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”

Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”

His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”

You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”

But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.

“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”

Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”

Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”

You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”

“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”

His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”

But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”

Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”

You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”

Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.

As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.

And then he’s gone.

For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.

As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.

In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.

As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”

And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.

London, 1894

The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.

You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.

“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”

You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”

Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”

But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”

Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”

Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”

You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”

A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”

You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.

“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”

Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”

Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.

But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”

Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.

“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”

You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”

But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.

“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.

Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”

You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.

Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.

The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.

Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.

“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.

“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.

Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”

But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”

“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”

But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”

Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”

A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”

With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.

Toto.

As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”

Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.

Indiana, 1932

The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.

As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.

“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.

Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”

“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”

The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”

As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”

Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”

“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”

They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”

Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.

Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”

He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”

You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”

Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”

Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”

Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”

You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”

“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”

Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.

You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”

“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”

Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”

You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”

But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”

Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.

“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”

Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”

You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”

Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”

He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”

You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”

Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.

As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.

But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.

Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.

“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”

Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”

You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”

Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.

As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.

And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.

For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.

As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.

Monaco, 2024

The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...

“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”

Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”

Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.

“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”

He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”

As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”

You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”

As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.

“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.

You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”

A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”

Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”

Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.

“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.

You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”

Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”

As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”

You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”

Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.

A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”

Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”

“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”

“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”

As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.

“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”

As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.

And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

Not the same anymore

Summary: After ending his three-year-long relationship due to his friend’s influence, Lando tries everything to get his lover back.

Note: I’m back!!! The winner of the poll I set up was loud and clear! I hope all of you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! P.s buckle up this one is a long one!

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

I had been dating Lando for three years, and our relationship was everything I could have ever hoped for. We met at an event, our eyes locking from across the room. He was so handsome, his smile blinding, and I knew right then that I had to talk to him. Except I was too shy to approach him. At that moment it felt like the universe heard me and made Lando approach me. We talked all evening long and we hit it off instantly.

From that moment on, we were practically inseparable. We spent hours talking and getting to know each other, our bond growing stronger with every conversation. I still remembered vividly how he had made me laugh until my sides hurt, how he listened with genuine interest to every word I said.

I remembered the excitement and anticipation when he asked me out, the butterflies in my stomach when he first held my hand. It felt like a fairy-tale come true, and I knew from that moment on that he was the one for me. We shared so many moments of joy, of happiness, and even the occasional disagreement, but we always worked through them together.

At first, I tried not to worry, thinking it was just a phase, but the changes in him only became more pronounced. He was less responsive to my texts and calls, and he seemed to prioritize spending time with his friends over me. I felt lonely and confused, unsure of what had caused this sudden shift.

Lando invited me to his place, and I was excited. I thought he was doing just the same, planning to spend some quality time together.

However, as soon as we found ourselves alone, Lando's face was serious, and my heart started to pound. I knew something terrible was about to happen.

Lando sat down next to me, his gaze fixed on the floor. There was a long, heavy silence before he finally spoke.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice almost a whisper.My heart dropped. Those words... they were never good.

I sat there, feeling the dread settling in my stomach. I knew whatever was about to come couldn't be good. Lando took a deep breath, but his face remained serious.

"I think... we need to break up."

I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Break up? The words hung heavy in the air, and my mind struggled to process them.

"W...what?" I managed to choke out, my voice shaking slightly. "Why, Lando?"

He avoided my gaze, his fingers fidgeting nervously. "It's just... I need to focus on my career right now," he said, his voice robotic, like he was reciting lines. "Being in a relationship is a distraction, and I can't let it interfere with my goals."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was throwing away our three years together with such ease, as if it meant nothing. I tried to reason with him, to remind him of all the happy memories we had shared.

"We've been together for three years!" I said, my voice rising in volume. "Why is it suddenly a problem now?"

"I need to be 100% focused," Lando insisted, finally meeting my eyes. "It's not just about the amount of time, y/n. It's about the current moment, and right now, my career is my priority." He sounded almost cold, like he was pushing me away.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought them back. How could I mean so little to him, that he would discard our relationship so easily?

"What about us, Lando? What about everything we've been through together?" I pleaded, my voice shaky.

He remained stoic, his expression unchanging. "I'm sorry, y/n," he said, his tone lacking emotion. "But my mind is made up."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It felt as though he was a stranger, a shell of the man I had fallen in love with. “You don’t mean any of it! You’re just stressed.”

Lando seemed to snap. "My friends were right," he said, his tone sharp. "This is for the best. Now, I don't need the distraction of a relationship, and I'm better off without you."

His words felt like a stab in the heart, and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I wanted to defend myself, to challenge him, but his friends were the last thing I wanted to bring up.

But I couldn't help it. "Your friends?" I shot back. "They're the worst! All they care about is partying, drinking, and living off your money.”

Lando's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare talk about my friends like that," he snapped, his tone filled with resentment. "They're the ones who are always there to support me, unlike some people."

I couldn't hold back anymore, the emotions boiling over. "Unlike some people? Are you kidding me?" I retorted, my voice cracking. "Who was there for you when you were doubting yourself? Who stayed up late with you, listening to your worries, pushing you to keep going? Wasn't it me?"

He looked stung, but he shook his head, trying to uphold his cold facade. "That's not how things work," he said stiffly. "My career is my top priority, and I don't have time for anything else."

I felt my own anger rising to match his. "So, you're telling me three years of love, support, and understanding mean nothing to you? Just throw it all away for the sake of your career?"

Lando stood up, his face tense. "The decision is made. I don't need a distraction right now, and that's what you are. A distraction." His words felt like a slap in the face.

My heart shattered, each word breaking another piece of it. How could he turn our love into nothing more than a mere bother? How could he talk to me like this? But I couldn't let myself break down fully. Not here, not in front of him. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back tears and keep my composure.

"Fine," I said, my voice cold. "If I'm just a distraction, then go ahead. Focus on your oh-so-important career." I crossed my arms, trying to hide how much his words had hurt me.

"And you know what, Lando?" I continued, my voice rising. "Your friends? They're all using you. They're not true friends; they're just there 'cause you're famous and rich."

Lando's face twisted in anger at my words. "How dare you talk about my friends like that?" he sneered, his tone spiteful. "They're the ones who have supported me through everything. They're true friends, unlike you. Maybe that's why I'm better off without you."

My eyes narrowed. He had crossed a line. How dare he? "At least I never used you. I loved you for you, not for your fame or your money," I shot back.

He laughed, a humorless, bitter laugh. "Love? Please. You only liked being with a famous guy. The attention it brought you, the luxury. Let's not pretend this wasn't also about status for you."

I felt my fist clenching so hard it hurt. "You know that's not true," I said through gritted teeth. "I never cared about your fame or money. I loved who you were, or at least who I thought you were."

"Oh, really?" Lando challenged, his tone sharp. "Then why didn't you ever say no to the fancy parties or designer clothes I bought you? Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

I felt like my chest was tightening with every one of his accusations. How could he twist things like that, making it seem like I only cared about his money? It was so far from the truth. The minute those words left his mouth I knew it was his friends feeding him these lies about me.

"Those were gifts, Lando," I said, my voice cracking. "I loved them because they came from you, not because they were expensive!"

I didn’t let him speak as I grabbed my bag, my hands shaking with emotion. "Fine. Just don't contact me ever again," I said, my voice cold and void of emotion. "This is over. You’re not the same anymore.”

I walked out of his place, my steps heavy and numb. I didn't look back, afraid of seeing him or breaking down in tears. I just wanted to leave, to get away from his words that echoed in my head, and the painful ache in my heart.

As I stepped outside, the fresh air felt like both a relief and a cold slap in the face. I hailed a taxi, and as I watched the familiar streets pass by, I felt as though my old, happy life had shattered into pieces. I had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away for his stupid career. I would never make that mistake again, I promised myself.

Lando sat in his place alone after she left, the silence of his now-empty home weighing heavily on him. He started thinking about the breakup, feeling a pang of guilt, but quickly pushed it aside, remembering that he had chosen his career over her. It was for the best, he told himself, repeating what his friends had been telling him.

As the hours passed, the guilt started to fade, numbed by the pain and the alcohol he poured himself. He eventually called his friends, and they eagerly agreed to come over, happy to hear he had broken up with his now ex-girlfriend.

They arrived, with smiles on their faces, their eyes glinting with anticipation. "Finally, you get to live a little without that distraction!" one of them said, slapping Lando's back. "We're gonna party hard tonight, man! You deserve it."

Lando felt himself slipping into a numbing haze, the alcohol dulling his emotions and his conscience. He allowed himself to be guided by his friends, their words like sweet poison, promising him that he was better off without me, that he wouldn't miss her. They started planning their night out at a flashy new club, their enthusiasm infectious in Lando's alcohol-doused state.

Lando found himself nodding along, his resistance fading away with each drink. The idea of partying seemed like a good escape, a way to drown out the guilt and the loneliness. He convinced himself that tonight, he would let loose and forget, throwing himself into the nightlife and the company of his so-called friends.

As the night progressed, Lando found himself increasingly affected by the alcohol he had consumed. The world started blurring at the edges, and his thoughts became a jumbled mess. He grabbed his phone, his fingers clumsy as he fumbled with the buttons. After several clumsy taps and misdialed numbers, he finally managed to dial Max's number.

As the call went through, he heard Max Fewtrell answer from the other end. "Lando? What the hell, it's 3 am, are you drunk?"

Lando let out a chuckle, his voice slurred. "Heyyy, Maxxy," he said, his words tripping over themselves. "You sound so grumpy. Come ooon, I need to talk to youeee."

Max sighed, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake the sleep from his voice. "Lando, this better be important. I was trying to sleep, you know." His tone was annoyed, but the concern was evident under the surface.

Lando ignored Max’s tone, his mind swimming with alcohol-induced impulsiveness. "I need to talk, buddy," he said, his words stumbling over each other. "It's about y/n."

Max sat up in his bed, his annoyance fading in the face of Lando's evident distress. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more awake and alert. "Okay, Lando, I'm listening," he said, his voice steady.

Lando took a deep breath, his words slurred. "Max, I messed up, I really messed up," he slurred, his voice cracking. "I broke up with y/n, and man, I feel like crap. I miss her, Max. I miss her, and it... it hurts, Max, it hurts so much." The line of words came out in a jumble, the weight of his emotions too heavy to hide under his inebriated state.

Max let out a sigh, his concern growing with Lando's admission. "Okay, Lando, listen to me. Stay exactly where you are, and for god's sake, don't go anywhere else. Tell me the name of the club, and I'll come get you."

Lando mumbled the name of the club through the phone, his words a bit muffled. "It's... uh, it's called 'The Neon Lights.' It's that new club in town, very fancy. Can't miss the neon lights," he hiccuped.

Max sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, Lando. I'm on my way. Just don't do anything stupid. Just stay put and wait for me." Max quickly got dressed, leaving his bed behind for the task ahead.

Max drove as fast as he could, and reached the club soon. He spotted Lando right away. His best friend was sitting outside, next to a homeless man, laughing loudly in his inebriated state.

Max couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Lando's current predicament. He approached them, giving the homeless man a nod in greeting. "Alright, Lando, let's go," Max said, reaching out to grab Lando by the arm to help him onto his feet.

Lando tried to protest, but his words came out as a muddled mess. "No, wait! I was just having a talk with him!" he argued, hiccuping. He tried to pull away from Max, but his balance was too shaky. "He's a cool guy, Max. Look!" Lando gestured at the homeless man, his movements exaggerated.

Max shook his head, trying to keep his composure. "Lando, stop making a fool of yourself. Let's go, you're coming with me." He gently led Lando away, making sure he didn’t stumble and fall.

By now, a few people from the club were giving them odd looks, amused by the sight of an apparently famous driver being a mess outside. Max just focused on guiding Lando away, thankful no one had recognized him. "Come on, buddy," he said softly, his arms holding him steady.

Lando put up minimal resistance, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He tried to protest but his words only slurred together, making it impossible to understand. His legs felt like jelly, and he let Max guide him to his car, his head spinning from the alcohol.

Once they reached the car, Max opened the passenger door for Lando, gently guiding him into the seat. Lando slumped in with a groan, his eyes flickering. Max secured Lando's seat belt, making sure he was as safe as he could be in his current state.

As they arrived at Lando's apartment, Max helped Lando out of the car, his feet dragging sluggishly. Walking him to his bed was a challenge, as Lando leaned heavily on Max. With effort, they finally made it to the bedroom, where Lando practically flopped onto his bed, groaning as his head spun.

Max was concerned about Lando, still inebriated and vulnerable. He grabbed some medication and water, placing them on the bedside table for when Lando woke up. He covered Lando with a thin blanket, making sure he wouldn't be cold in the night. He left quietly, making a mental note to check on him in the morning, closing the door softly behind him.

Max returned to Lando's place the next morning, his concern for him still lingering. He used the spare key Lando had given him and let himself inside the apartment. There was a noticeable silence, the aftermath of Lando's excessive drinking still hung heavily in the air.

Max was in the kitchen by the time Lando trudged down, looking half dead from the night before. His hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and his face pale. He groaned as he spotted Max standing by the counter, a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast ready.

Max watched as Lando slumped into a chair, cradling his head in his hands. "What the hell were you thinking, Lando? You were drunk off your ass," Max scolded gently, his voice laced with worry.

Lando winced as he lifted his head, his eyes squint to slits. "I... I don't know. Needed a distraction," he groaned, his voice hoarse. The alcohol had taken its toll, and he felt like death warmed over.

Max sighed, pushing the cup of coffee towards Lando. "There are better ways to distract yourself than getting drunk, Lando. What if the media had found out? You could have jeopardized your entire career."

Max paused, his gaze fixed on Lando’s disheveled state. "So who were you with last night? Who was irresponsible enough to let you drink in such a state, and then leave you alone in that condition?"

Lando rubbed his temples, trying to remember through his foggy memory. "Some friends," he mumbled, avoiding Max's accusing stare.

"You know, just some guys I hang out with sometimes. They were partying, and I... I don't know, I joined in." He paused, trying to compose himself. "Then I got drunk and they... they left."

Max’s eyes narrowed, seeing right through it. "Those friends, right? Are those the ones who always use you, Lando? The ones who take advantage of your fame?" His voice was sharp and filled with frustration, knowing exactly how those 'friends' manipulated Lando.

Max’s tone was hard as he continued, his questions probing deeper. "Did they invite you or did they just drag you along with them? Because I know how they are, Lando. They always take advantage of you. They use you for your money, your fame, and never really care about you."

Lando hesitated, his eyes downcast. He knew Max had a point. "I... they invited me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But I went because I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget her." His voice trembled slightly, the pain he felt creeping into his voice.

Max's ears perked up at the mention of y/n. "Is that why you broke up with y/n, then?" Max's tone softened slightly, realizing this was a sore subject.

"Because you wanted to forget her? To distract yourself from the pain?" He saw Lando wince at the mention of her name, and it confirmed his suspicions.

Lando swallowed hard, the pain in his eyes speaking volumes. "I... yes," he whispered. "I thought if I ended things, it would make it easier, but it's only made it worse." His voice shook with regret, the weight of his mistake heavy on his shoulders.

Max probed further, sensing there was more to this. "Were the friends the ones who influenced you to break up with y/n, Lando?" He had a feeling they were involved, knowing their toxic nature.

Lando shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Max's gaze. "They... they encouraged it, yeah," he admitted, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.

"They kept saying she was holding me back, that a relationship would only hinder my career, and I... I let them get into my head."

Max was furious. He had seen how much y/n loved Lando, how much she supported him at every turn, and now he had thrown it all away because of some 'friends' who didn't care about him. "They're the worst, Lando!" His voice rose. "They don't care about you, not like she does. She's been there for you, through everything. And you let them poison you against her?"

Lando closed his eyes, the reality of Max's words piercing through his foggy mind. Max was right. He had let himself be manipulated by his so-called friends, allowing them to turn him against the one person who genuinely cared about him.

"I know," he whispered, his voice choked. "I messed up. I'm an idiot."

Max sighed, his frustration mingling with a sense of compassion.

"You're not an idiot, Lando. But you made a terrible mistake. You let yourself be led astray by the wrong people. Those friends, they're poison. And y/n... she's the one who truly cares for you. You need to fight for her, Lando. Don't let them ruin what you and y/n had."

Lando admitted, his voice filled with regret and defeat. "It's too late, Max. She has blocked me everywhere. She doesn't want anything to do with me." His shoulders slumped, the weight of his mistake heavy on him. "She probably hates me now, and I don't blame her. I hurt her, Max. I don't think she'll ever take me back."

Max, determined to help Lando, decided to take matters into his own hands. He texted y/n, hoping to plead on Lando's behalf, but Max was met with a cold wall - she had blocked him too. Frustration welled up inside, knowing how much of a hole Lando had dug for himself.

"Lando," he said, his tone heavy, "She blocked me too. This is going to be harder than I thought."

Lando flinched as Max confirmed y/n had blocked him too. It felt like the finality of his mistake, like the door to reconciliation was slammed shut, and he had no way to open it.

"I can't blame her," Lando muttered, his eyes downcast. "I messed up so badly. She's got every right to hate me now."

Lando's phone suddenly buzzed with a text from one of his 'friends,' inviting him out again. But before Lando could even react, Max swiped the phone from his hand, angrily blocking them all.

Lando stared at Max, a mix of shock and annoyance on his face. "Dude, what the hell!" he exclaimed, trying to get his phone back.

Max's expression was serious, his tone firm. "Those friends of yours are poison," he stated, holding the phone just out of Lando's reach. "They're the ones who encouraged you to break up with y/n. They're not your real friends, and I'm not letting them influence you further."

Lando tried to reach for his phone again, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Max, please give me my phone. You can't just block them all! Those are my friends!" He sounded desperate, trying to justify something he knew deep down was wrong.

Max stood his ground, shaking his head. "No, Lando. Those friends are the reason we're in this mess right now. They don't have your best interests at heart. They only care about what they can gain from you. You need to see that!" His grip on the phone remained firm, not giving Lando any chance to retrieve it.

Lando, still hungover and angry, tried to make his case. "But... but they're the only ones who are there for me, Max!" Lando argued, desperation lacing his voice. "They're the ones who party with me when I feel down. They're the ones who go out to clubs while y/n stays home. They're just trying to look out for me."

Max's patience wore thin, his anger boiling over. He threw the phone at Lando with a snap, the device landing on the bed next to him. "Fine!" Max sneered, his voice cold. "Figure it out on your own, Lando. Seems you'd rather listen to those so-called friends than hear the truth. See how far they take you."

Lando flinched as Max threw the phone at him, feeling a mix of guilt and stubbornness bubbling inside. Max's words rang true, a painful reminder of the fact that he was defending his toxic friends over the one person who cared. But in his hungover state, he was stubborn, unwilling to admit his friends were the ones pulling him into a toxic pit.

"Fine!" Lando retorted, his voice rising. "I don't need you trying to control my life! And I don't need y/n. I can do whatever I want with my friends!" He grabbed his phone, clutching it tightly, his anger and resentment towards Max growing.

Max stormed out, leaving Lando alone in that moment, his thoughts swirling like a storm. Lando sat in silence, surrounded by the chaos he had created, and the weight of his choices. Max's absence left him with nothing but his own thoughts and the quiet, empty apartment, the reality of his situation setting in.

Days blurred together as I drowned myself in work, my fingers flying over the keyboard, creating numbers and reports that seemed like a lifeline in this sea of heartache. The silence of my apartment was too loud, so I stayed at the office, working until exhaustion took hold.

My best friend grew worried, her concern palpable, but I couldn't bring myself to open up. Who would even want to listen to my sob story, anyway?

I couldn't even bring myself to think about our breakup, the pain still too fresh. Work was my solace, a way to stay one step ahead of the thoughts that threatened to consume me. I tried to focus on the numbers, the deadlines – anything to avoid confronting the reality of my shattered heart.

But as much as I worked, the pain lingered, refusing to fade away. Every now and then, I'd find myself staring off into space, the memories of our time together flooding back. The sound of Lando's laughter, his warm touch, it all came crashing back in waves that threatened to crush me.

Lost in my own world, the sound of my best friend's voice finally broke through the fog of my thoughts. She had been calling my name for the past five minutes, but I hadn't heard a word, too consumed by my own internal battle. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the daze.

She stood by my cubicle, her expression a mix of worry and concern. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "I've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

I blinked again, trying to shake off the haze and focus on her words. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied through clenched teeth, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Just really focused on this project." I tried to sound convincing, but I couldn't meet her gaze.

My best friend gently urged, "Y/N, I'm here for you, whenever you're ready to open up. How about a girls' night out tonight? A chance to take your mind off things? You need a break."

Each word felt like a lifeline. She knew just what I needed, an opportunity to lose myself for a moment without the weight of the breakup suffocating me.

The distraction of a girls' night out sounded tempting. I'd have a chance to let go, to pretend things were fine for a while. "Okay," I softly agreed, a small hint of warmth amidst the pain. "A girls' night sounds great. Let's do it."

As the hours passed, I tried to focus on the preparations, changing into something comfortable after my long day of work. But as I stood in front of the mirror, my mind kept wandering, the memories of Lando and the happier times we shared together. I took a deep breath, locking those thoughts away at the back of my mind, and plastered on a smile.

We met at a nearby bar, the noise and laughter a stark contrast to the silence of my apartment.

My best friend tried to engage me in conversation, steering clear of any topics about relationships or exes. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and I found myself sipping on my favorite cocktail, letting the alcohol blunt the edges of my pain for just a moment.

As the night progressed, my best friend knew something was still weighing heavily on me. She steered the conversation deeper, her eyes meeting mine in understanding. "Y/N, really, what's going on? I can see something's eating at you."

I sighed, taking another sip. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and the pain I'd locked away started to slip out.

I hesitated for a moment, then the floodgates opened. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and with each sip, the words poured out. "Me and Lando broke up," I said, my voice wavering. The pain I'd tried to hide finally came out in the open.

My best friend listened without interruption as I told her everything - the pain, the doubts, the sense of loss. She held my hand, her thumb running across the back of my hand in a comforting gesture, allowing me to release all the emotions I had been holding in.

The pain intensified as I allowed myself to acknowledge it again. "I still miss him," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, "but I can't go back to him. Not after everything he put me through."

My best friend stayed silent, letting me take the lead, listening without judgment, offering reassurance with her hand, holding mine firmly.

Her words were gentle, yet comforting. "You're strong, Y/N," she said, squeezing my hands. "It hurts, and it's hard, but you'll get through this. I'm here for you every step of the way."

Her words provided solace, reminding me of my own strength, even when I felt like I was crumbling.

She was right; I had gotten through tough times before. This, too, would pass. I tried to hold onto those words, a glimmer of hope in the midst of hurt. I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

After hours we decided to call it a night. As my best friend dropped me off at my apartment, the night's diversion ended, and the silence of my apartment fell heavily around me.

The momentary respite from the pain had come to an end, and the reality of being alone set in again. I tried to ignore the loneliness, the emptiness without Lando. Instead, I got ready for bed, trying to find solace in routine.

I reached for my phone in an attempt to distract myself from the memories that kept invading my thoughts. But as I opened it, I was met with a barrage of social media updates about Lando and me - our pictures together, speculation, and the truth I had been trying to escape. The pain hit me all over again as I saw others asking about our breakup, theories swirling around me.

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f1gossippoffical Trouble in Paradise? Fans have suspected that Formula One driver Lando Norris has broken up with his girlfriend Y/N. The pair have unfollowed each other on all platforms and haven't been seen together in months. This suspicion was confirmed after fans saw Lando getting drunk at a club without his partner, living his life. What do you think happened? Follow for more updates!

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loveformywags2 What? Is this confirmed? This can't be right?! 🥲

lalalandlando4 He deserved better anyways 🤷‍♀️

f1maniaclvr Do y/n and Lando know about this? 🤦‍♀️

pookielanscar481 It's just odd that he was seen being drunk out of his mind without her

mam4you81 That's what I was thinking... What if she broke up with him and he's drowning himself in alcohol?

nanalalaf14 Honestly I don't think so, I think he dumped her since he had stopped interacting with her on his socials while she still liked and commented on all his posts.

4everf1loca NOOOOO my sheilaaaaa 😭

As I scrolled through the comments, reading the theories about us, a bitter realization hit me. They were only seeing the surface, the façade we had carefully crafted for the public. If only they knew what had really happened, the pain, the reasons behind our breakup.

The comments were full of speculation and curiosity. People thought they knew our love story, but they knew nothing. They didn't see the fights, the lies, the coldness between us. Their theories felt like a slap in the face, mocking the reality of our relationship.

All I knew at this moment was that I should take the time to heal and not let anyone ruin this for me.

Months had passed since the breakup, and I had finally made significant progress in my healing journey. Though the memory of Lando and our heartbreak still lingered, I had come a long way. I had focused on myself, investing time in hobbies, spending quality time with my friends, and allowing myself to heal.

I had established boundaries, avoiding social media and news about Lando that would reopen the wounds. I started a new project at work, pouring my energy into something productive. Slowly, I felt like I was rebuilding myself.

Right now, I was sat with my best friend, enjoying lunch together. My phone buzzed with a notification from an old group chat I had almost forgotten about. It was the group chat I used to be part of, with Kika and Alex.

When I opened it, I was greeted with a flood of messages, the group hasn't been active ever since my break up. So I was curious to see what this was all about.

My best friend, curious, noticed the notification that I had checked my phone. She gave me a questioning look, asking, "What was that about?"

"It's an old group chat from two of my WAG friends," I explained. "They want to catch up during the next GP."

My best friend raised her eyebrow, visibly curious. "And are you going to go?" she asked, her voice gentle but eager to know.

"At first, I didn't really want to go because of... well, Lando being there," I admitted, a mixture of hesitation and bravery in my voice. "But then I thought why should I let him dictate what I do? I shouldn't be scared of him, right?"

I paused, my determination showing through. "So, yes, I agreed to go."

My best friend's face lit up with happiness as she heard my decision. "I'm so proud of you!" she said, her pride shining through. "You're not letting him hold you back or influence you anymore. That's such a huge step forward, and you should be proud of yourself."

For a moment, seeing my best friend's proud expression filled me with a surge of bravery. She was right; I wasn't letting Lando affect my decisions anymore. I was taking control of my life again, one choice at a time.

As I laughed with my best friend, the weight of Lando gradually faded into the background. We continued talking, laughing, and enjoying our lunch together. Lando's name didn't come up in conversation. For now, he was just a distant thought, overshadowed by the joys of friendship and healing.

Lando stood in the McLaren garage during the Silverstone GP, his entourage of fake friends surrounding him in his papaya-colored driver overalls. They joked, laughed, and offered their hollow support, all while he got ready for the race.

Amidst the laughter, Lando's thoughts turned to y/n. He missed her, the void she had left in his life was still present, gnawing at him. He had tried to reach out, creating new accounts, but he found himself blocked at every turn, silence his only reply. It was as if the universe itself was holding back any chance of them reconnecting, driving home his deepest fears and regrets.

Lando snapped out of his pensive state, focusing his mind back on the race ahead. He had a job to do, after all. With a firm tone, he told his friends to stay put, to relax and enjoy the race while he got ready. His determination was evident, a momentary distraction from his heart's constant ache.

Lando quickly realised that he had forgotten his phone. As he retraced his steps to retrieve his phone, he heard muffled voices from within his driver's room. Curious, he stopped before he entered, straining to hear the conversation inside.

Michael chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Can you believe Lando was so stupid to break up with her?" Sam agreed wholeheartedly, a sneer on his face. "She was perfect for him, a distraction holding him back from his true potential."

Jake snorted. "Yeah, she was a total inconvenience, always nagging and taking up his time and money. Good riddance, I say."

They shared a cruel laugh, satisfied with their opinions. The conversation between Lando's fake friends revealed their true intentions - to have Lando's undivided attention, away from someone who truly cared about him.

They continued their conversation, mocking y/n's influence on Lando. Michael spoke with a mischievous grin. "It was a piece of cake convincing him. He ate up everything we said like a fool."

John snorted in agreement. "Yeah, we made sure he saw her as a hindrance. Now we have him all to ourselves, no competition."

James interjected, a cruel glint in his eyes. "We convinced him she was holding him back, that he needed to focus on his racing. We even convinced him she was just after his money. Classic play."

They chuckled, pleased with the web of lies they had spun. Michael added, "He doesn't even know what's good for him. We'll keep him under our control, keeping his attention and his wealth all to ourselves. He's too naive to see through us."

Sam, the schemer, couldn't contain his glee. "This has been the easiest con ever. Lando's so trusting, so foolish. We just have to keep filling his head with our lies, and he'll do whatever we want."

Lando, his heart heavy with the revelations, stormed back into the room, anger seeping through his every feature. His fists clenched, his eyes darkened in fury. He couldn't believe how easily he had been manipulated, how blind he had been to the deceit around him.

"How could I be so stupid?" he bellowed, staring down the group.

The group of fake friends froze, their faces stunned. They stared at Lando, wide-eyed, their laughter abruptly silenced. They hadn't expected Lando to return so soon, or to have overheard their malicious conversation.

Lando's voice trembled with a mix of fury and pain. "I can't believe I let you manipulate me like this!" His eyes burned with a potent blend of anger and regret. He stepped closer, his voice filled with a mixture of disgust and hurt. "You were behind all of this, convincing me to break up with her, making me think she was holding me back."

The friends, caught off guard, tried to scramble for excuses. But Lando's words cut through their attempts to justify themselves. Michael spoke up, his voice trembling, "We... we were just looking out for you, Lando. We thought she was holding you back. We wanted what's best for your career, that's all."

Sam chimed in, trying to appease Lando. "We were trying to help you, Lando. We saw how she was distracting you, taking up your time and money. You need to focus on your racing. You're our golden goose!" He forced a fake chuckle, hoping Lando would buy into the manipulation again.

Lando clenched his fists, his body trembling with fury. "You didn't care about what's best for me. All you cared about was having me all to yourselves, using me for my fame and money. You manipulated me, turning me against the one person who loved me truly."

Jake tried to interject, his voice oozing with false concern. "Lando, we did care about you. We just wanted to protect you from a bad influence. We didn't want you to be taken advantage of." He attempted a manipulative smile, trying to deflect the blame onto me.

Lando's voice rose in intensity, his anger boiling over. "Don't you Dare talk about her like that! She was the only one who genuinely cared about me, not you. You're just jealous because she didn't let you use me like you do. You're nothing but a bunch of leeches!"

Michael, emboldened by Lando's anger, smirked, his words sharp. "Don't you dare blame us. This is on you, Lando. You were the one who was too stupid to see through our facade. Now you've lost her because of your own damn foolishness, not our fault in the slightest."

Lando, seething with a mix of hurt and anger, quickly called the security guards. With a firm voice, he instructed, "Get these snakes out of here now!"

The security guards, recognizing the tone of a man pushed to his limit, swiftly entered, escorting the fake friends out of the garage. Lando stood there, watching them leave, a bitter taste in his mouth.

As the fake friends were forcefully escorted out, Lando was left alone in the garage, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. The pain, the regret, the anger—it all slammed into him, finally giving way to the torrent he had held back for so long.

He slumped against a wall, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. Tears prickled in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged breaths.

As Lando sat there, the regret gnawed at him, growing sharper by the second. He thought about y/n, the love he had lost. The memories of their time together flooded his mind, and he berated himself for throwing it away. He blamed himself for listening to the friends who had manipulated him.

He thought about the love they shared, how he had let it slip through his fingers, shattered by his own foolishness and vulnerability to their lies.

Lando, still in a vulnerable state, decided to reach out to Max, despite their rocky past. He thought about the clubs and the disagreements they had had, but he had no one else to turn to now. With a mix of regret and desperation, he dialed Max's number.

Max picked up the phone, immediately sensing the desperation in Lando's voice. As Lando poured out his emotions and apologies, Max listened, his tone softening.

Lando confessed, his voice cracking, "I should have listened to you, Max. You were right about them, all along. I was a fool to listen to their lies and ignore you."

Max, surprised but relieved, replied, "I'm glad you realize now, Lando. Those friends were toxic. They used you, and I tried to protect you, but I understood, now." Max's words were sympathetic, understanding Lando's turmoil, even though they had their differences.

Lando confessed, his voice trembling with a mix of regret and desperation. "Max, I miss her, I miss y/n so much. I'll do anything to get her back, anything at all. It's the biggest mistake I've ever made."

Max fell silent, his concern deepening. He didn't know the extent of Lando's mistreatment of her.

The mention of y/n stirred worry in Max. He gently asked, "Lando, you know I didn't want you to break up with her. But why do you think you mistreated her? Can you tell me about that?" Max's tone was cautious, sensing that there was more to the story than he knew.

Lando hesitated, knowing he had a lot to unpack. Max's curiosity fueled a mix of fear and guilt inside Lando. He knew he had to come clean, even though it was painful to admit.

Taking a deep breath, Lando began to confess, his voice shaky. "I... I treated her badly, Max. I hurt her, ignored her, and took her for granted."

Max couldn't help but wince, knowing there was a deeper issue.

Lando's voice cracked with remorse. "They fed me lies about her. They convinced me that she was holding me back, that she wasn't good enough. I believed them, and I treated her poorly."

Max, as supportive as possible, tried to provide words of encouragement. "Lando, that's rough. You've made mistakes, but the first step is admitting it. You know you messed up; now it's about making amends."

He sighed, "Lando, remember that true love isn't about perfection. It's about growing together, learning from mistakes, and valuing someone despite their flaws."

He paused, his voice serious. "But you've got to show her you mean it. Words are easy, but actions will be your proof. Are you ready to do that?"

Lando, though shaken and determined, nodded, his voice firm. "Yes, Max. I'm ready. I want to prove it to her. I'll show her I've changed and that I'm serious about making amends."

Max and Lando continued talking, their conversation growing shorter as Lando had to prepare for the race. As they bid each other goodbye, Max reminded Lando, "Stay focused during the race. Clear your mind; that's important, too."

Lando, though his mind was heavy with emotion, took Max's words to heart. He knew he had to compartmentalize his feelings for now and focus on the race ahead. He focused on the tracks, his car, and his performance, pushing aside his turbulent emotions for the moment.

I stepped into the grand prix feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The grandstands, the roaring fans, and the smell of rubber and fuel in the air brought back a whirl of emotions. Seeing the tracks where Lando and I used to share moments filled me with nostalgia and a pang of heartache.

My thought were interrupted by two voices. Kika and Alex, my two closest friends, ambushed me with warm hugs, pulling me into their embrace. Their cheerful voices cut through the noise of the Grand Prix, and I felt a mix of relief and joy. It had been a while since we had been together.

"Y/N! You made it!" Kika exclaimed. "We've missed you so much!"

Alex chimed in, grinning widely. "We've been dying to hang out with you! It's been ages." She playfully pinched my cheek. "You look great, by the way."

"Oh, stop it! I didn't do anything special. You two, on the other hand, are the real stars here. Look at you!" I playfully nudged them both, my tone teasing and lighthearted.

Kika and Alex beamed, clearly enjoying the compliment. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery," Alex said, feigning exhaustion. "We're here to have a blast. You ready for this?"

I sighed one more time while looking around before replying. "More then ready."

We made our way to our favorite hangout spot at hospitality. It was cozy, far from the chaos of the track. As we settled in, surrounded by comfortable couches and tables, a mix of nostalgia and anticipation washed over us.

"I've missed this place," Kika said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "So many memories, right?"

We spent hours catching up, sharing stories, laughter, and heartfelt moments. The conversation flowed easily between us, like old times. Laughter echoed in the cozy space of the hospitality center, and our spirits were lifted. Time seemed to slip away as we bonded and supported one another. Eventually, the time came for Kika and Alex to head back out; their respective significant others were getting ready for their races.

Kika and Alex rose from their seats, their faces slightly apologetic. "We have to go," Kika sighed.

Alex nodded, adding, "Come find us later, okay?"

I gave them both a nod, understanding their commitment to support their boyfriends. "Of course, we'll catch up after the races. Good luck to them!"

Kika and Alex shared one last embrace, their hugs warm and reassuring, then they left to get to their respective spots by the trackside.

As they left, I was left to navigate the grandstands, finding my spot amidst the sea of fans. I blended into the crowd, the anticipation in the air as the racers prepared for their engines to start.

The race concluded, but it felt bittersweet. Lando's face was everywhere - on the screens, the winners' podium, the trackside banners. Seeing him in his natural element, celebrating victories, stirred mixed emotions in me. The pain of missing him and the hope of reconciliation blended together in a complicated mix.

After a bit, I decided that I needed to use the restroom so I headed that way. I made my way to the private VIP restrooms, my VIP pass granting me access. The restroom was clean and spacious, offering a respite from the noise outside. I checked my reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to compose myself.

As I exited the restroom, I was lost in my thoughts, only to bump into someone in the hall. I froze, instantly recognizing Lando's familiar voice. His figure stood in front of me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. His gaze met mine, and time seemed to stand still.

Lando called out for me, his voice filled with surprise, "y/n." His eyes held a mix of shock and tenderness, his voice holding a hint of the emotions he was trying to keep at bay.

As the words hung in the air between us, my heart raced. His presence was so close, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I got out of my stance, trying to leave, I tried to walk past him, but Lando blocked my path, stopping me in my tracks. I felt a wave of emotions crash over me - pain, anger, hope, and a deep longing all mingled together. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and I tried to suppress it.

Lando's voice was hesitant and filled with vulnerability. "Y/N, please…can we talk? Just for a moment."

His request was sincere, his eyes pleading with me not to walk away.

I shook my head, my resolve firm. "No, Lando. I can't and I don't want to." I replied, my voice resolute. The pain from our breakup was still too fresh, and talking to him now would reopen wounds I wasn't ready to confront. I tried to move past him, my expression set with determination.

Lando's face fell, a mix of hurt and resignation evident. He saw my determination, my refusal to engage. He took a step closer, his words soft but desperate, "Please... just hear me out."

My frustrations boiled over. "Don't you think it's ironic? Now you want me to hear you out, when you never listened to me when you decided to end things," I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness.

Lando winced at my words, the truth of them hitting him hard. "I know... I made a mistake," he said, his voice tinged with regret. He was trying to find the right words, his eyes pleading with me to give him a chance.

Lando's expression twisted, the guilt evident on his face as he processed my response. The words cut deep, the truth behind them undeniable.

"A mistake?" I repeated, my voice dripping with bitterness. "You ruined me."

I continued, my words raw.

"I spent months wondering what was wrong with me, why you ended a relationship of three years for a fake friendship that didn't even last a year. Where are those 'friends' who supposedly supported you through everything? I don't see them here, Lando."

Lando looked down, ashamed. He had no answer. His fake friends were nowhere to be found, leaving him alone to confront the consequences of his actions. The weight of his mistake seemed to grow heavier.

He finally managed to gather his thoughts, his voice a mix of guilt and sincerity. "I messed up. I don't expect you to forgive me right now. But please, let me explain." He took a step closer, his regret etched on his face, silently begging for my understanding.

I raised an eyebrow, my words sharp. "Explain? What's left to explain? You threw away three years of us for a group of shallow friendships. What could you possibly say to make this better?"

Lando knew my words hurt, but he was desperate. "I was blind. I was a damn coward," he confessed. "I allowed myself to be manipulated by my so- called friends, and in the process, I hurt you."

He continued, his voice tinged with regret and shame, "I saw them as my real friends, but now I realize they only saw me as a way to elevate their social status." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "They saw you as a threat, someone who could expose their true intentions. They convinced me you were holding me back, when in reality, they had me blinded."

His voice trembled as he continued, "I let myself believe their lies. They filled my head with jealousy, making me doubt our relationship, and I was stupid enough to listen to them." His vulnerability shone through, his emotions raw.

I nodded, my expression guarded. "I'm glad you've recognized your mistakes, Lando. But can you imagine the pain I've experienced because of them, because of you?"

My words conveyed a mix of grief and resentment. The hurt I suffered remained a palpable presence, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.

Lando nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He knew he couldn't take back what he had done. The time he spent believing those fake friends and ending our relationship had shattered something that couldn't easily be repaired. He understood the depth of my suffering, a consequence of his blind trust and foolishness.

Lando looked at me, his expression sincere, and asked if we could try again. He voiced his regret, hoping for a chance to make things right. The hope in his eyes was clear, but the weight of the past lingered between us. He wanted to rebuild, to fix what he had broken.

He pleaded with me, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I want us to try again. I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't let those fake friends influence me anymore. I'll do whatever it takes."

I shook my head, my voice resolute. "No, Lando. I'm still healing, and right now, I don't want to try again. I need time, space. I can't just forgive and forget in a snap."

My words were firm, expressing my current inability to jump back into a relationship after everything I had been through.

Lando, his voice filled with sincerity, looked into my eyes. His gaze conveyed the depth of his regret and determination. "I understand," he said. "I will wait for you, for ten years or more," he promised. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

As we concluded the conversation, Lando stood there, his heart heavy with the weight of our future hanging in the balance. He watched me leave, a mix of emotions coursing through him: regret, hope, and an ache of longing. He had to accept that he couldn't rush our healing process, no matter how much he desired to be by my side.

I walked away, my eyes misty, the past and the uncertainty of our future intertwining in my thoughts.

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f1gossippoffical Months after their break-up, Lando Norris and Y/N have been spotted after the Silverstone GP. Sources state that the ex-couple were arguing, what the argument was about is still a big question. Many suspected it was because of a third party being involved. Thoughts about this one?

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lazyformulaland Bro leave them alone, they're both adults. Let them solve this in peace ffs. 🙄

lvr4lan Noooo Lando honey this isn't you run!

wagslov4 Did he pick you yet ? 🙄

bbpiastri81 What the hell is going on

norriswithrizz4 This is insane, the main focus of formula one isn't even on formula one anymore smh 🤦‍♀️

4everyours4ln Y'all are too invested, leave my girl y/n alone.

momolew16 Forreal the girl didn't ask for this

closetofpeacefashion7 Exactly she was finally thriving and then this happend. It doesn't even look like she wanted to talk to him

mayyoushush8 Did she tell you that 🤨

closetofpeacefashion7 @mayyoushush8 Don't be stupid even a kid can see that 🥱

I decided to head back home, not forgetting to shoot Alex and Kika a quick message which they completely understood.

As I reached home, the weight of the evening's emotions crashed down on me. The conversation with Lando had stirred up all the hurt and confusion I had been suppressing. I felt emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed, unsure of what to make of it all.

The silence of my home only amplified my inner turmoil, leaving me to wrestle with my conflicted feelings.

A few days passed after the incident, I decided to move on with life and not let it bother me again. A perfect distraction? Drowning myself in my workload.

I arrived at work as I stepped inside the building, I was greeted by Linda, one of my co-workers.

Linda, approached me with a mischievous grin, her question catching me off guard. "Do you have a secret admirer, by any chance?" she asked, the curiosity palpable in her voice.

I stared at her, confused by her question, wondering why she would draw such a conclusion. I shook my head, puzzled by the idea. "What makes you think that?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Linda chuckled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of intrigue. She replied, "Have a look in your office."

Puzzled by her cryptic hint, I made my way to the elevator and reached my office. As I stepped inside, confusion lingered in my mind, wondering what I was about to find.

My eyes widened with shock and surprise as I entered the office, finding a massive bouquet of my favorite flowers. The delicate blooms filled the space with a sweet, comforting fragrance. Attached to the flowers was a note, mysterious and intriguing. My heart fluttered with anticipation as I reached for the note.

My fingers traced the delicate paper of the note, and as I read the words, they stirred a whirlwind of emotions. The poem was written in delicate script, the words flowing like music... and it was about love. Each line spoke of tenderness, trust, and a future filled with hope. The words were so beautiful, it was as if they were carefully chosen specifically for me.

The little poem, written with a tender brush of affection, read:

"From the morning dew to the evening's glow, My love for you continues to grow. Through shadows and light, in every season's rain, Our bond remains, a gentle refrain.

In whispers of joy and moments of peace, I hold you close within my heart's embrace. Each smile shared, each memory we weave, My love will remain a boundless pledge."

I was so confused, who could've been behind this? As I read the poem again, my mind wandered to Lando for a moment. I quickly dismissed that Idea. He had confessed that he couldn't write romantic words, finding them cringeworthy.

If it wasn't Lando, then who would have written such a poem?

As the day wrapped up, I found myself heading home, my mind still lingering on the mysterious poem. Entering my home, I sank onto the couch, exhaustion seeping through my bones. The softness of the cushions welcomed me as my thoughts played through my mind, trying to unravel the mystery.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ring of the doorbell that echoed through my home. It was late in the evening, and I couldn't guess who might be at the door at such a time. With some curiosity and a hint of wariness, I got up to answer.

I went over to the door to open it and I was met with a delivery man. The delivery man handed me a massive bouquet of fresh flowers and a large box of chocolates. The fragrance from the flowers mingled with the scent of chocolate. The combination was almost overwhelming, leaving me baffled as I accepted the gifts.

Now I was even more confused, this bouquet was even bigger than the one from my office. And the weird thing was, that the chocolates I got were only my favorites.

I examined the box of chocolates, finding another note attached to the top. Carefully, I opened the wrapper, retrieving the note. Just like the previous one, it was written on delicate paper, filled with intrigue. I unfolded it, ready to read the message.

As I unfolded the paper, I was met with neat, elegant handwriting. The words held a romantic touch, and I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. The second poem spoke of tender love and adoration.

"Your presence brings light to every room, A symphony of grace in each simple bloom. Though we may walk separate paths in life, My heart's allegiance is a ceaseless strife."

I sat there, taken aback by the heartfelt words. They spoke of admiration and deep affection. Who could have written these beautiful poems and left them for me? The confusion deepened, and I pondered who could be behind the mysterious gestures.

Plagued by curiosity, I reached for my phone and called my best friend, hoping for answers. As the call rang, I prepared myself for a wave of questions, expecting her to know something.

My best friend's cheerful voice filled the call, answering instantly. "Hello?" She sounded cheerful as ever, not knowing the mystery I was about to unload on her.

I cut straight to the point, my tone slightly urgent. "Hey, I have a question. So, I've been receiving anonymous flowers, chocolates, and... poems." I paused a moment. "Any idea who it could be?" I asked, hoping for some insight.

She was silent for a moment, her surprise apparent. But then her voice brightened, and I could tell she had a theory. "Oooh, a mystery admirer?" she asked, half-joking, half-curious.

I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully. "Well, yes. It is somewhat mysterious." I replied, unable to hide the hint of unease in my voice amidst the flowers and chocolates surrounding me.

We delved into the mystery, discussing possibilities. From past crushes to unknown admirers, we contemplated various scenarios. But no concrete conclusion surfaced, leaving me even more intrigued and slightly frustrated.

That was until my best friend's insight sparked a new perspective. She pointed out that the mystery admirer seemed to know me well. They knew my workplace, my love for romantic poems, and even my favorite chocolates and flowers. It wasn't just a coincidence; they seemed to have a grasp on my habits. The timing of the delivery was eerily precise, appearing just when I arrived home.

My best friend continued, her voice filled with speculation. "It's not just the flowers and chocolates, it's the timing. They know your work schedule. It's almost like they're watching, waiting for the right moment."

I agreed, thoughtfully absorbing. "Yeah, that's been bothering me. The timing is too perfect. They either know my schedule or they're stalking me." I chuckled, trying to soften the situation with humor.

"Wait!" My best friend suddenly interrupted, a speculative glint in her eyes. "Could it have been Lando?"

The name hung heavily in the air, bringing our conversation to a halt.

I shook my head, quickly dismissing the idea. "No, probably not. Lando doesn't enjoy writing, especially not romantic poems. He always told me he found them cringe."

My bestie nodded, acknowledging my response. "Ah, right. He's not exactly the poetic type, is he?"

I grinned slightly, remembering Lando's disdain for poetic words. "Nope, definitely not. He'd rather punch a wall than write a poem." I joked, the idea of Lando writing a poem seeming far-fetched, even for a moment.

After a while of thinking and cracking our brains open, we ended the conversation, deciding to table the mystery for the moment. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone, my mind still swirling with questions. I prepared for the night, the flowers and chocolates lingering in the background, their presence a reminder of the mysterious admirer.

Several months passed, and the mysterious gifts persisted, each one more thoughtful and personal. The flowers continued arriving, alongside a new addition - small, handmade tokens. Notes slipped into the bouquet containing thoughtful messages, while a box of my favorite chocolates came with a heartfelt poem.

I sought information, asking friends and family if they knew anything. They were taken by surprise and genuinely had no idea who was behind the surprises. The mystery deepend as everyone denied any involvement.

The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.

The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.

The messages, delivered alongside the tangible gifts, carried messages that resonated with my emotions and experiences. It felt almost as if this person truly knew me, yet remained hidden behind the anonymity of their identity.

It was that time again - our annual girls' night out. We always looked forward to these nights, a chance to let loose and have a blast in a vibrant club. I had my best friend beside me, ready to dance the night away. The only problem? My best friend chose a club that Lando used to go to every time. She reassured me that he wouldn't be here which I took her word for.

We strutted into the club, excitement filling the air. Music pulsed through the venue, the bass matching the rhythm of our hearts. The lights dazzled the dance floor, and we blended into the crowd, the worries of the day fading in the throes of the nightlife. We decided to hit the dance floor, letting go of any inhibitions as we lost ourselves in the music.

We danced with abandon, the beat pulsating through us, the rhythmic movements our shared language. The neon lights flashed, adding an electric charge to the atmosphere. As we danced and whirled, we felt liberated from the daily grind, living in the moment, lost in the music and the company of my best friend.

Later that night we both got thirsty, I made my way to the bar to get us drinks, when suddenly a man approached me. I could already smell the alcohol on him as he staggered towards me, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

He smirked, his words coming out in a clumsy manner. "Hey there, pretty lady," he slurred, his tone oozing with an unwanted familiarity. He invaded my personal space, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.

I could feel the warmth of his breath, tainted with alcohol, against my cheek as he spoke. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?" He tried to flirt, his persistence evident even amidst his intoxication.

I tried to maintain a polite smile, stepping back slightly. "I'm here with a friend," I replied, my voice a mix of politeness and discomfort. I glanced at the bartender, silently praying for my order to arrive sooner so I could escape this uncomfortable interaction.

He chuckled, his intoxication making him clumsy yet bold. "Oh, come on. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be tied down to just one friend. You should let loose and have fun," he insisted, his words filled with a suggestive undertone.

I tried to end the conversation, giving him a firm but polite dismissal. "Thanks, but I'm good," I said, my tone leaving no room for further conversation. I discreetly inched closer to the bar, hoping he would get the hint and leave me alone.

Instead of taking the hint, he persisted. "Oh, come on. Don't be a party pooper. One drink won't hurt," he insisted, his words slurring even more. He took another step closer, trying to close the gap between us.

I felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance as his persistence continued. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, leaving a cloying odor on the air. I tried to maintain my composure, not wanting to cause a scene but also wanting him to back off.

He took another step closer, his gaze lingering on me. I could see the effects of the alcohol on him - the unsteady steps, the glazed look in his eyes, the clumsy attempts at charm. He reached out, attempting to touch my arm, his gesture too familiar and unwelcome.

The guy got annoyed when I backed away. He reached out, his hand grabbing my arm with a firm grip, trying to pull me back. I felt a jolt of fear as he attempted to drag me.

His hold tightened, his voice a mix of frustration and insistence. "Come on, don't you know how to have fun? Just one drink, a little chat." He tugged at me, his alcohol-fueled stubbornness evident.

I felt a mix of panic and defiance. "Let me go, you sick prick!" I exclaimed, my voice strained. I glanced around, hoping for someone to intervene, but every face seemed lost in their own world, oblivious or uncaring about the situation. The loud music blared, making it seem as if no one could hear my cries for help.

The guy gripped my arm tighter, his eyes filled with a mix of drunken determination. He leaned in closer, his face twisted with frustration. "Why are you making this so difficult? Just one drink, come on."

He forced me into an empty, private room, his grip on my arm still strong, leaving me with a sense of dread. The music was a distant throb outside, leaving me more isolated in this unsettling scenario.

His grip faltered as someone unexpectedly appeared, a figure entering the room with a decisive move. Before the guy could even think of pulling me fully into the room, someone intervened, delivering a well-aimed punch to his gut. The guy groaned, doubled over in pain as he released his grip on me.

The guy fell to his knees, clutching his stomach as the force of the blow rippled through him. Confusion, pain, and shock replaced the smugness from before. I could only watch, relief washing over me as I realized I wasn't alone anymore.

The drunk guy, overwhelmed by the combination of alcohol and the punch, scrambled to his feet before stumbling out of the room, whimpering in pain. The sudden exit left me alone with the mysterious person who had stepped in to save me.

Lando rushed towards me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. The warm green in his eyes held a mix of worry and relief that I was alright.

He reached for my arm where the drunk guy had grabbed me before, inspecting the area to check if I was hurt. I could feel the tenderness as he gently ran his fingers over the spot, ensuring I was unharmed. Lando then gazed at my face, studying it for any signs of distress.

I gently pulled my hand away, forcing a small smile to reassure him. "I'm okay," I insisted, my voice steady but guarded. His concern was palpable, and I could see the relief in his eyes as he saw that I was not physically harmed.

Lando seemed desperate, unwilling to let me leave just yet. He reached for my arm again, his grasp gentle but firm. "Please, just hear me out," he pleaded, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

My response came sharp, biting. "Why would I? You didn't try to reach out, didn't try to find me, or even show an ounce of concern until now," I shot back, my words laced with bitterness and resentment.

Lando's response came with a mix of frustration and hidden emotion. "I haven't tried? Since our last talk, I've done everything I could to win you back," he retorted, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Who do you think sent you all those gifts? Who else would know your work schedule, your favorite foods, your love for poems? I know I said I hated them, but for you, I embraced them."

His words were layered with hurt and a desire for reconciliation. Lando finally confessed, "It was me, all along. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever, so I hoped my gestures would speak for me." The pain in his face was evident, his eyes pleading for understanding.

I stammered at his words, a mixture of surprise and confusion overwhelming me. Never in my entire life I would've thought Lando would do all of this for me. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend the lengths he had gone to reach me.

My voice trembled as I spoke, "So... you were behind those text messages as well? How...? But I blocked all your accounts, even the new ones. How did you manage to send me messages?"

Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on mine as he confessed. "I bought a new phone with a different SIM card... just so I could message you." His answer hung in the air, the weight of his dedication palpable in the quiet space of the room.

He continued, his voice earnest, "I couldn't bear the silence between us, the distance. Even if you blocked me everywhere, I had to find a way to reach you, to express how I felt." The depth of his yearning and determination to keep the connection alive was evident in each word.

I remained silent, overwhelmed by his confession. Lando had gone to great lengths just to communicate with me, buying a new phone and SIM card, defying my attempts to cut off contact. The depth of his dedication was both touching and overwhelming. I couldn't deny the mix of emotions swirling within me.

Lando stood there, his eyes searching mine, desperate for a glimmer of hope. The air hung heavy with anticipation as he awaited my reaction, his vulnerability on full display, his heart on his sleeve.

I grappled for a response, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I... I'm still processing this," I managed to utter, my voice filled with a mix of hurt and confusion. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why let me think you didn't care?" I blurted out, a hint of betrayal seeping into my voice.

Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his shoulders slouching slightly. "I was afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of being rejected, scared that you would push me away if I tried to talk to you and most importantly scared you would've moved on. I thought sending those gifts and messages would be a way to reach out without directly risking rejection."

I stared at him, taken aback by his honesty. His confession laid bare his fears and insecurities, exposing the vulnerability beneath his usually composed facade. But my hurt remained, the sting of his silence lingering.

I couldn't hide my feelings, and I let my resentment spill out. "But you let me suffer!" I cried out, the pain pouring out in my words. "I thought you didn't care, that you moved on, while I was here, hurting over our broken relationship."

Lando's face contorted with pain at my outburst, his shoulders sinking lower. He took a step forward, bridging the gap between us. "I know, I know," he pleaded, his voice filled with regret. "I was a coward. I let fear dictate my choices, and I hurt you in the process. I'm sorry."

I wanted to believe him, to fall into the comfort of his apology and the sweet gestures he had made, but the wounds of the past remained. The memories of his silence, his refusal to communicate, and the pain I endured still weighed heavily on my heart.

Lando saw the hesitance in my eyes, noticed the barrier I had put up. His expression pleaded with me, a mixture of sorrow and yearning. I could tell he wanted me to forgive him, to let him back in.

"Lando, I'm so conflicted," I confessed, my voice cracking. The wounds of the past still fresh, I couldn't let go easily. "How can I trust that you won't hurt me again? I've suffered so much because of you, how can I be sure you won't do something like this again?" I asked, hoping for an answer that would quell my doubts. The pain was still too raw to simply forgive and forget.

Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his face a mask of sorrow and guilt. He knew he had caused me pain and had no right to expect forgiveness so easily. He stepped closer, the gap between us becoming smaller. With a gentle voice, he spoke. "I don't ask for you to trust me instantly," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't make the same mistakes again. Please, just give me a chance to show you."

I held his gaze, my eyes pleading for understanding. "I need some time," I implored, my voice shaky. "I can't just forget overnight. Give me the space to process everything, to heal." The emotions coursing through me were overwhelming, and I needed time to make sense of the rollercoaster of events.

Lando's response was gentle and resolute. "I will wait for you. Remember, even if it takes ten years," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

I looked back at Lando, his pleading eyes yearning for a reprieve. With a heavy heart, I whispered, "Goodbye," and reluctantly turned away. The music and lights faded as I weaved through the crowd, searching for my best friend who had remained oblivious to the emotional storm that had just unfolded between Lando and me.

I found my best friend in the crowd, her smile lighting up upon seeing me. However, her smile quickly faded as she saw the tears streaming down my face. Without a word, she stood up, concern etched on her face.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, gently guiding me towards the exit. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice filled with understanding. "Let's go home."

We stepped out of the club, the cool outside air a stark contrast to the stifling heat inside. We hailed an Uber, and my bestie decided to spend the night to provide comfort and lend an ear.

We settled into the car, the soft hum of the engine accompanying us as we made our way home. I took a deep breath, preparing to recount the tumultuous events of the evening to my best friend.

The Uber pulled up in front of my building, and we disembarked, the night's cool air a stark reminder of the emotional journey I had been through. We made our way into my house, the silence between us filled with anticipation.

We entered my house, the familiarity of the space providing a semblance of comfort. My bestie guided me to the couch, pulling a blanket over us as we settled in for what was sure to be a long night of conversation.

I poured my heart out, recounting every detail, from Lando's apology to the painful memories that still lingered. My best friend listened intently, her eyes widening in surprise and shock as she took in the emotional rollercoaster I had described.

She was stunned, her face reflecting the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded. "Wow," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe he did all that."

My voice trembled with uncertainty, "I don't know what to do," I confessed, my emotions a tumultuous mess. "I want to trust him, but it's so hard to ignore the pain he caused. It feels like a never-ending cycle of confusion and fear." I rested my head on my friend's shoulder, seeking solace in her presence.

She rubbed my back soothingly, her support an anchor that kept me from drifting further into despair. In a gentle yet reassuring tone, she spoke. "It's okay to feel conflicted. Trust is earned, and forgiveness takes time. Don't rush yourself. Take whatever time you need to figure out what you want." She held me closer, offering her presence as a grounding force amidst the chaos.

My best friend posed the question that echoed within me, "Do you still love him?" The question sliced through the air, digging deep into emotions I had tried to bury.

Hesitantly, I met her gaze, tears glistening in my eyes. "I… I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

My friend's words were honest, cutting through the confusion. She persisted, "That isn't an answer, y/n. It's a simple yes or no question." I remained silent for a long moment, my emotions swirling inside. Finally, after an excruciating pause, I whispered, "Fine, yes. Yes, I still love him." The admission hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.

My best friend looked at me, her eyes mirroring a mixture of understanding and support. "Give him a chance," she urged, her voice gentle yet firm. "Don't give in immediately. See how far he's willing to go. If he goes beyond just gifts and gestures, you'll know he's sincere.''

A wave of confusion washed over me, and I turned to her for clarification. "What do you mean, 'beyond gifts and gestures'?" I inquired, the words tumbling out in a whispered plea for understanding.

She seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment, then met my gaze with an earnest expression. "I mean, beyond just grand gestures. Beyond the gifts and the poems. Love is about more than just gestures. It's about genuine care, about being there for each other, through every high and low. It's about trust and communication. Those are the true tests of sincere love," she replied, her words wise and heartfelt.

She continued, her voice steady. "If Lando truly cares about you, he will show it in every aspect of his life, not just with grand gestures. He will prioritize your needs, respect your boundaries, and be there for you, even in the most ordinary moments."

Her words resonated within me, their truth echoing in my heart. It didn't matter if he had sent flowers or sweet poems. Love wasn't just about gifts; it was about presence, understanding, and unwavering support through life's tumultuous journey.

We continued talking for hours, my best friend's words sinking deep into my thoughts. Eventually, we decided to call it a day, both exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster. My mind whirled with questions as we prepared to say our goodnights.

Lando's dedication persisted. In the days that followed, his gestures remained constant. I noticed flowers and chocolates carefully placed on my desk each morning, a poem hidden amidst the petals, and a warm coffee waiting when I arrived in the morning, exactly how I liked it.

Today it was different. I heard a knock on my office door, I replied with a simple 'come in' as the person entered. Lando stood in my office doorway, his hands holding my favorite coffee and a neatly prepared lunch. He spoke softly, concern in his voice.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I know you can get forgetful about your nutrition while working. So I brought you something." The gesture warmed my heart, leaving me momentarily speechless.

His willingness to break away from his busy schedule, solely to ensure I took care of myself, touched me deeply.

"Thank you," I expressed gratefully, touched by his thoughtfulness. I had to ask him, curious about the sacrifice of his valuable time. "But aren't you busy? You still made time for this?"

Lando responded, his voice gentle yet sincere. "I'm busy," he admitted. "But I make time for you because you matter to me."

His simple yet powerful response struck a chord within me. In the midst of the busyness of life, he had made time for me, prioritizing my wellbeing. It spoke volumes about his devotion and care, that he was willing to sacrifice his valuable time just to ensure I wasn't neglecting myself.

The sincerity in his eyes and the way he stood in my office doorway, a small lunch in hand, felt overwhelming. It was as if he was trying to prove that he valued our connection more than the hustle and bustle of life.

In the weeks that followed, Lando's gestures became an integral part of my routine. He arrived at my office each morning with my favorite coffee, not missing a single day, even when I forgot it myself. During lunch breaks, he carefully watched over me, ensuring I ate, sometimes even bringing me delectable meals he prepared himself. He began helping me with paperwork, even when he didn't have the expertise—a gesture that left me touched.

Once, when I found a mouse in my apartment, he came at 4 a.m., not hesitating for a moment despite having an early flight.

His devotion continued. In the midst of his travels, he remained constant in sending me thoughtful gifts. The distance didn't seem to matter as his love crossed time and continents.

With each passing day, my heart opened up a little more. His gestures filled my heart with a mix of gratitude, warmth, and a hint of rekindling love.

It seemed like any ordinary day, with Lando on the other side of the world for a race. I was engulfed in my work, my focus solely on the paperwork, to the neglect of myself. Suddenly, my colleague Linda burst into my office.

Linda spoke with concern, her voice filled with worry. "You've been working nonstop. Come on, let's get something to eat." I protested, insisting on finishing my task first, but Linda's stern expression was unrelenting. I agreed reluctantly, rising from my seat. Little did I know, the world was about to spin.

As we walked, I started feeling dizzy, an unfamiliar sensation overtaking me. Linda's voice was heard from beside me. "Sweetheart are you alright?"

"No, no, I'm fine," I quickly reassured Linda, believing I had just stood up too quickly. Yet, before I could take another step, my world slipped away, and I plunged into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Linda witnessed the sudden collapse and hurried to my side, concern filling her voice. "y/n, are you okay?" she asked urgently, but I was unresponsive, the world around me fading into blackness.

The sound of voices echoed in the distance, Linda's voice calling my name. However, the comforting embrace of darkness held me captive.

As I emerged from the haze of unconsciousness, I felt a soothing yet firm hold on my hand. I groaned softly, my eyes slowly creaking open, reluctantly adjusting to the stark brightness of my surroundings.

As my vision cleared, I realized I was in a hospital room. The sterile environment, the soft hum of medical equipment, and the distinctive smell of antiseptic filled the air. I heard someone calling my name, I turned my head, my gaze drifting towards the source of the voice that called my name.

I blinked, still in a state of surprise to see Lando beside me. He looked at me with concern, his presence unexpected given that he was supposed to be on the opposite side of the globe. He spoke urgently, "How are you feeling? Should I call for a doctor?" His worry was evident in his eyes as he waited for my response.

Amidst the haze of confusion and exhaustion, my mind clung to one question. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice weak but filled with surprise. "You're supposed to be on the other side of the world."

His response caught me off guard, touching my heart amidst the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm you're emergency contact," he reminded me, and the realization set in.

He had crossed continents and time zones, arriving swiftly on his private jet, driven by his concern for my well-being. I had been asleep for 12 hours, and in that timeframe, he had made his way across the globe to be by my side.

The depth of his commitment touched my heart. Despite the demands of his career, he had flown across the world to be by my side, prioritizing my well-being above everything else. The knowledge that he was my emergency contact made a surge of warmth flow through me. It was a reminder of my significance in his life and the lengths he would go to for me.

I tried to compose myself, my voice still weak, I told him, "You shouldn't have done this. You have important things to attend."

Guilt tugged at me, knowing he had sacrificed his commitments to be here. His racing schedule, his career, everything seemed secondary to his concern for me in that moment.

Lando shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't care, none of it matters as much as you do," he insisted, his gaze filled with sincerity. He reached out to gently hold my hand, his touch comforting. "Nothing is as important as you," he repeated, emphasizing his priorities.

His words struck a nerve, causing a mix of emotions to rise within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, his unwavering devotion filling me with a combination of gratitude and sorrow. I had doubted him, feared a lack of commitment, yet here he was, proving me wrong in the most dramatic way possible.

His presence in the hospital room, despite the distance he traveled, felt surreal. The sound of medical equipment beeping in the background seemed distant compared to the intense emotions swirling between us. Lando held my hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

In that moment of tender silence, Lando spoke again. His voice was soft, carrying a mix of concern and affection. He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm. "I was so worried," he admitted, his eyes locked on mine. "Seeing you here in the hospital... was terrifying."

His eyes mirrored the vulnerability he rarely displayed, raw emotions laid bare. The fear he had felt, the concern that gripped him, all visible in his expression. The reality of the situation weighed heavily between us, his emotions palpable and sincere.

I offered a reassuring smile, trying to ease his worries, though the weakness in my voice betrayed my fatigue. "I'm okay," I whispered, exhaustion evident in my words. My weak hand attempted to squeeze his in return, hoping to show my gratitude despite my physical state.

Lando's grip on my hand tightened, his thumb tracing comforting circles on my skin. His gaze remained focused on me, studying my face, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain. He was skeptical of my reassurance, his worry etched on his furrowed brow.

We delved into conversation, discussing random topics, our worries fading into the background. Our chat was filled with laughter and genuine connection. However, our peaceful moment was interrupted when the doctor entered the room for a routine check-up. The doctor informed me that I was discharged, giving me the okay to leave.

Lando assisted me in gathering my belongings, the tenderness in his gestures evident. He carried my bag and carefully guided me out of the hospital room. We paced side by side, making our way to Lando's car parked outside.

We traveled in a soothing silence, the weight of the hospital now off our shoulders. As we reached my place, Lando diligently helped me bring my belongings inside and prepared to leave. But before he could go, he paused and called my name, the sound breaking the tranquility.

I turned my attention his way, meeting his eyes with curiosity. "Yes?" I responded, wondering what was on his mind. His voice had held a hint of hesitation, as if there was something important he wanted to convey.

He inhaled sharply, the weight of his question becoming apparent. He spoke with vulnerability, "There's something I want to ask you. You're free to refuse, but I genuinely want to ask... Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?"

I was initially startled, but the anticipation in his eyes was evident. He swiftly added, "Only if you want it to be a date of course" I could see the sincerity in his gaze. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I accepted his invitation, my voice steady with anticipation. "Yes."

The relief and happiness that washed over Lando's face at my acceptance were evident. His shoulders relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You'll go on a date with me?" he asked, a mix of surprise and joy in his tone. "Really?"

The vulnerability in Lando's voice hinted at the significance of my acceptance. He was eager to hear my confirmation once more, his eyes glimmering with hope. I smiled warmly, reassuring him, "Yes, I'll go on a date with you."

We bid each other good night, both feeling the exhilaration of the upcoming date. The way we acted mirrored that of teenagers experiencing their first date, a mix of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. As we exchanged a final glance, our connection felt like a magnetic pull, both eager for the moment to come. The goodbye lingered for a few moments, filled with electricity.

The evening of our date arrived, and my best friend was diligently working on styling my hair, while I focused on applying my makeup. She fussed over my locks, while I carefully applied concealer and mascara to enhance my eyes. My outfit hung on the closet's door, chosen for the evening. The weight of my excitement made my heart flutter in anticipation of the night ahead.

My best friend, brushing through my hair as she styled it, spoke up. "You know, Lando really went above and beyond for you, don't you think he deserves a chance?" she said, emphasizing his efforts.

There was a pause as I met her gaze in the mirror, a mix of emotions coursing through me. I set down my mascara and turned to face her, the weight of her words settling.

She looked at me, waiting for my response, her eyes filled with a mix of encouragement and genuine concern. The reminder of Lando's efforts weighed heavily on my thoughts. He had shown dedication and cared for me, but my past fears and apprehensions lingered, making it hard to fully let go.

I took a moment, considering her words. Inhaling deeply, I nodded, offering a soft smile of agreement. "Yeah, I know," I admitted, my voice a mix of vulnerability and hope. "But it's... it's hard to trust after everything."

I voiced my intentions, my eyes glimmering with determination. "I want to give him a chance," I declared, my resolve strengthened. "Not just a chance, but an opportunity to show me that he's worth trusting." My past pain weighed heavily on my heart, but the hope in my voice was undeniable.

Her squeal of happiness filled the room, echoing her encouragement. "Oh my god, y/n! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "You're doing the right thing, giving him a shot. He'll make you so happy!"

She grinned, her excitement infectious. "I can feel it in my bones, this is gonna be great. He's going to sweep you off your feet."

We concluded our primping, with my best friend leaving with a parting "keep me updated, and good luck!" The anticipation in my stomach intensified, a mix of excitement and nerves gripping me. I took another glance in the mirror, taking in my appearance one last time.

I was wearing a black off shoulder dress, that hugged my curves nicely. I paired it with the famous uncomfy YSL heels and matching purse. My hair was styled in a beautiful blow out flowing over my shoulders. I sighed one more time before grabbing my stuff.

The doorbell echoed through the room, signaling Lando's arrival with its gentle tone. My heart leaped in my chest, his presence just outside my door.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then opened the door. Lando stood there, his presence immediately filling the space, and warmth spread through my chest. He looked handsome, his well-groomed appearance evident, but it was his warm eyes and gentle smile that greeted me.

Lando stood before me, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in hand. His expression was one of awe, his words momentarily lost. He managed to compose himself and spoke, his voice filled with admiration. "You look absolutely stunning," he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of me.

The flowers were a beautiful display of color, their delicate petals reflecting the soft light of the hallway. Lando held them out, offering them to me like a bouquet of promises. I extended my hand, taking them with a soft smile, his compliment making my cheeks flush.

We walked out together, arm in arm, the cold evening air washing over us. Lando guided me to his car, opening the passenger door and helping me inside as a gentleman. As we settled in, the city lights danced outside, casting a cozy ambiance in the car.

We arrived at the restaurant, a charming Italian bistro with soft lighting and a cozy ambiance. Lando got out, rushing to open my door, offering a hand to help me out with a soft smile. The scent of fresh herbs and garlic filled the air, a promise of a delicious meal to come.

We stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around us. The atmosphere was romantic, with soft music playing in the background. Lando guided me to a table by the windows, pulling out my chair before taking a seat himself. Candles flickered on the table, casting a soft glow over everything.

We settled into our seats at the table, the ambiance around us serene and inviting. The waiter approached, greeting us warmly and setting menus before us. The scent of fresh bread and delectable aromas wafted from the kitchen, fueling the anticipation for the meal ahead.

Lando spoke with confidence, knowing my preferences. "What do you want to get?" he asked, but before I could respond, he answered himself, "No, I know already. Let me guess... the carbonara." A smile tugged at my lips as he remembered my favorites so effortlessly. I replied, "You know it," a mix of affection and appreciation filling my voice. His attention to detail and memories of things I liked made my heart swell with warmth.

The night unfolded, filled with lively conversation and laughter. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in our connection, the sound of others around us fading into the background. It felt as if the world had narrowed down to just us, an intimate bubble filled with shared laughter, stolen glances, and shared stories.

As the night drew to a close, neither of us wanted it to end. Lando paid for the meal, and I thanked him with genuine gratitude. We decided to take a stroll, drawn to a nearby bench that offered a view of the water. As we settled onto the bench, the gentle moonlight illuminated the night, casting a silvery glow over the water's surface.

I broke the comfortable silence, my voice soft and sincere. "Lando?" I began, my words carrying heartfelt appreciation. "I really enjoyed today. Thank you," I expressed, my eyes glimmering with warmth as I looked at him.

Lando met my gaze, a soft smile playing at his lips. He spoke with sincerity, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, his eyes mirroring the appreciation in mine. "It means the world to me that you had a good time. I truly enjoyed every moment with you."

I addressed the elephant in the room, acknowledging the immense effort he'd put in. "You know, you really have gone above and beyond for me these past months," I said, my tone sincere.

It had been a challenge to regain my trust, and Lando's consistent gestures had played a significant role in rebuilding it. His eyes glimmered with a mix of vulnerability and hope, absorbing my words.

Lando's voice was quiet as he responded, his tone sincere. "I know I have, but every moment of it was worth it," he confessed, his emotions clear in his eyes.

"I wanted to show you that you could trust me, that I would go to any lengths to earn your trust," he added, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and earnestness.

I continued, my questions flowing out. "What about after we get back together? Would you still care about me like this" I inquired, my eyes searching his.

Lando's expression shifted, vulnerability and sincerity mixing in his gaze.

"After we get back together, I want to cherish every moment even more," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to support you, care for you, and be there for you through anything. I want to keep building on the trust we have and make our relationship stronger than ever."

His sincere words found their way to my heart, a tenderness washing over me. The vulnerability in his expression, combined with his commitment to cherishing our relationship, stirred something within me.

I spoke up, my voice soft but filled with resolution. "I think," I began, "I'm ready to be yours again."

Lando stood up, his eyes wide with disbelief, his emotions overwhelming him. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the bench in a tight embrace.

As he spun us around in a whirlwind of joy, he spoke with heartfelt conviction, "I won't disappoint you ever again. I love you so much."

His hands remained on my waist, a tender touch that seemed to anchor me. I felt a surge of warmth and contentment as I replied with a giggle that turned into laughter, sharing in Lando's excitement.

"I love you too, Lan," I confessed, my eyes glimmering with affection

Lando's grip on my waist tightened as he pulled me into a passionate kiss, a fusion of his emotions and desires. The softness of the moment contrasted with the intensity of our feelings, the kiss sending a surge of electricity through my body. I melted into his embrace, returning the kiss.

As the kiss intensified into a make-out session, I reluctantly pulled away, the reminder of Lando's fame echoing in my mind. However, Lando was unfazed, his response quick and resolute.

He shrugged off the potential consequences, insisting, "Let them see. I've got my girl back, and that's all that matters." His smile was filled with a mixture of certainty and passion as he pulled me back, their lips meeting once more in a toe-curling kiss that seemed to defy any outside concerns.

The moon shone down, lighting up the night as Lando wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, and we walked back to his car. The air held a delicate sense of anticipation, and as we drove away, I nestled my head against Lando's shoulder, feeling safe and cherished.

Gratitude and affection swelled within me as I realized I had given Lando another chance, and that my heart had bloomed open once again. I smiled, my thoughts swirling with appreciation and love for the incredible journey we were about to embark on.

The end

Fantasy Island (gr63)

↳ A/N This is arguably one of my most favourite things I have written and it's incredibly special to me. I hope you enjoy <3

↳ Inspired By: Fantasy Island (1978 series/2021 series)

↳ Summary: A tropical paradise where your greatest fantasies come to life, no strings attached. Upon your arrival to the sunny weathered beaches, in the cloud like king size bed, you find your greatest fantasy waiting for you.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Stranger(kind of?)!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 25.4k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, touches of magical realism, arguably infidelity but not really (because Fantasy Island is not 'reality'...or is it?), mentions of an unnamed girlfriend, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, leaving marks, dirty talk, praise, mirror on the ceiling, really steamy passionate romantic sex, public sex, shower sex, brief breeding kink, lotsss of "I love you", unprotected sex.

Through the small window of the plane, the picturesque tropical island was revealed, standing out from the crystal blue water with its sandy white beaches and lush green forests. It looked like a photoshopped sliver of paradise and as the biplane coasted down towards the water, you already felt the stresses start to ease from your shoulders. 

A weekend on Fantasy Island. The place rumoured to allow your largest fantasies to come true for a few days, no strings attached. It knew what you needed better than you knew it yourself, so you were told. Once you left the island, life would return to how it always was but, for now, your focus was on rejuvenation and getting your mind off of everything. 

With your suitcase in hand, you stepped out of the small plane and onto the wooden dock, feeling the warm tropical breeze ease your muscles and relax your body. You almost completely forgot why you craved to come there after only the first breath of salty sea air. The woman waiting for you at the end of the dock greeted you by name with a smile and a handshake, her airy white sundress rippling around her knees as you approached. 

“Welcome to Fantasy Island.” she said, holding out her arms as if to show you the island right then and there. 

You thanked her politely as you admired the bamboo beach huts and patted loungers just at the edge of the sand. You followed her to the red jeep that was parked a bit of a ways away from the dock and you sat in the passenger seat as she drove you farther into the island and towards the resort. She spoke to you about the island and how she had been gifted the job as operator from her father before her; it was a busy career to run the island and she lived alone to dedicate her life to it. 

The island and the resort were all free for you to roam and she offered no cautions about the jungle or safety in the ocean, explaining how nothing was dangerous there. It felt all a bit surreal to you but your mind was focused on the spa that must be awaiting you at the resort. After a long and agonizing week - not to mention months - you felt that you were overdue for some quiet relaxing rejuvenation. 

The host guided you into her open air office at the edge of the resort overlooking the main beach and sparkling waters. A golden retriever met you at the steps and you gave him a scratch behind the ear as you followed the personable young woman into her space. She gestured you into the seat on the opposite side of her desk before taking her own chair behind it.

“It seems you have had quite the tiring little while, is that so?” she asked, not wasting another minute on the small talk that had filled the drive over. 

You smiled politely, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“So tell me, what can the island do for you?” she folded her hands together on the top of her desk.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I dunno really.”

“You must have come here with a purpose; this is Fantasy Island after all. What is your fantasy?”

Your heart seemed to beat harder in your chest and you glanced out towards the beach as if to buy yourself time. With a small breath, you finally spoke, “It’s silly to say it aloud.”

“Believe me, I have heard plenty of fantasies in my career here. Nothing will surprise me.”

You turned back to her, lingering on her understanding smile and kind eyes and you felt yourself drawn to open up to her, “I am in love.”

She nodded you on. 

“I am in love with a guy who will not love me back. Who cannot love me back. Who...hardly knows I exist on this planet.” you started. It was hard to talk about and to reflect on your reality and she let you have a moment to piece together your thoughts. “These last months, and these last weeks especially, have been filled with me trying to accept that he is dating someone else. It’s literally all over social media and it’s hard to avoid and hard to look at. Really, really hard...and...exhausting. I just want to have a weekend where I can shut everything out and not think about how much that fact hurts me.”

The host smiled at you and nodded slowly in understanding as if she already knew all of what you were going to tell her, “So your fantasy is to forget that your love is unrequited?” 

You sighed thankfully that she understood, “Yes, exactly.”

“Well Fantasy Island can certainly help you with that.” she assured you easily. 

“If this works, I owe you my sanity.” you said. 

The host smiled at you, “You will be pampered, relaxed, and rejuvenated by the end of your stay, I guarantee. You will feel like a whole new woman.” 

She directed you to your room across the resort and with final thank yous and welcomes, you started off down the wooden boardwalk to your suite. Your suitcase clacked along the boards beneath your feet as you took your time to locate room 215, looping around the centre courtyard that was filled with brightly coloured flowers and waving palm trees. Finally, you reached your room and turned the handle without the need for a key. The moment you opened the door and stepped foot over the threshold, a refreshing soft gust of cool air tumbled over you as if you crossed through a cloud.

Compared to the heat of the tropical island you were on, the slight breeze of air conditioning was relieving and you sighed contentedly and set your suitcase against the wall. The bamboo flooring cushioned your sandaled feet as you stepped farther into the room and the floor to ceiling windows billowed the sheer white curtains into the light painted space. The sun that filled the blue sky lightened the room perfectly and you rounded the corner from the small entryway to take in the three-sided beach side views of your bedroom…only to find someone already sitting on your bed. 

The white sheets were pulled tightly and cradled his body like the softest most irresistible cloud, matching the white fabric pants and half open button-up that he wore. He was staring out the open windows to the beach, his eyes just as perfect blue as the ocean with the slightest hints of green that pictures never did justice. He had one leg tucked up under him and the other hanging lazily off the end of the king size bed patiently.

Your breath froze in your chest when he finally turned his head to look at you from a few short metres away. His gaze sent shivers down your spine and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest in a feeling that you couldn’t place as yearning or anxiousness. A peaceful smile came to his soft lips and he lifted two filled champagne glasses from the small tray that rested with him on the soft bed. 

He held one out to you, “Come here, gorgeous. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You stayed frozen in place for a moment, almost dizzyingly, staring at him in disbelief. Was this real? The man you had only dreamt of for months now sitting right across from you, beckoning you over with a glass of expensive champagne and that swoon worthy smile. You reached carefully to pinch your thigh to test if this really was a dream, only to find bare skin under your hand instead of your floral skirt you had worn on the plane. You looked down with a gasp, more than stunned to find yourself in a striking blue lingerie set and topped with a thin white satin robe left open around your shoulders and down just past your waist. 

“Well? Don’t make me drink both of these on my own.” 

You looked back over to the young man still sat on your bed, his outstretched hand gently swirling the bubbling gold liquid around in its flute. He nodded you over and you took a few cautious steps across the room towards him and took the glass from his hand. When your fingers brushed his, you shivered, the warmth of his skin feeling so real and so addicting and as your heart hammered in your chest, you sat down on the end of the bed beside him. 

Your eyes stayed locked on his, still in near disbelief, and you reached out your free hand to brush over his cheek to make sure he was really truly there. When your palm caressed his face and he leaned into your touch sweetly, you let yourself breathe his name in awe, “George.” 

“Yeah, darling. Was your flight okay?” he asked softly, taking your hand from his cheek and kissed your knuckles. 

“Yeah.” you mumbled, fearing to blink as if he’d disappear from beside you in an instant. 

“Good.” he laced his fingers with yours and lifted his glass to his lips with his other hand to take a sip. 

You watched him quietly, mirroring his sip with your own glass, welcoming the fizz of the bubbling champagne that grazed your tongue and the warmth of his hand in yours on his lap. The sea air that breezed into the room ruffled his sandy brown hair and his gaze drifted past you to the beautiful beaches beyond the open windows. 

“George,” you spoke his name softly, hesitantly, still wondering how on earth he was sitting beside you at a tropical island resort, “do you know who I am?”

He tore his gaze from the beach view to your face again and he smiled at you, giving your hand a squeeze, “Of course. What kind of question is that? You’re my girl.” 

Your name fell from his lips like an irresistible melody, like the sweetest sound you had ever heard, and the way he smiled at you as he spoke it made your heart flutter. He took another sip of champagne and you let your eyes wander down his unbuttoned shirt that ruffled gently in the warm breeze through the open windows and the streaks of sunlight rose his light dusting of freckles over his nose and tops of his cheeks. 

“It’s breathtaking here.” George spoke calmly, his fingers still resting lazily in yours, “I’m just looking forward to a perfect weekend vacation with you.” 

“With me?” you couldn’t help but confirm. 

“Yeah.” George chuckled lightly, gently taking his hand from yours to reach for the small tray still resting on the bed and he lifted a chocolate covered strawberry from the dessert plate. He held it out to you with a smile and fed you a small bite as he answered your question, “No one else I would even think of, sweetheart. You’re my one and only after all. This weekend is just for us.” 

As you ate your bite of strawberry, he took the last bit for himself before setting the greenery back on the plate with the rest. You both sipped your drinks and you couldn’t help but reach out to touch him as you let the alcohol warm you, resting your hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat under your touch. 

“I love you.” you breathed ever so quietly, testing the waters with the eight letters you had been dying to confess. 

George raised his hand over yours and you could feel his heart race under your palm, staring into your eyes as he answered with an honest, “I love you too.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words and the smile that came to your lips only had him smiling back at you. He took his hand from yours to dust his finger across your lips and down your neck and along the collar of your white silk robe. 

“You look so beautiful today.”

Butterflies filled your stomach at his words and you stared back at him even if his eyes were on your chest. Having him simply looking at you was enough to make you blush. You replied easily, “So do you.” 

“I’ve missed you.” George whispered, tracing your collarbones gently before sliding up the side of your neck. His touch left goosebumps rising across your skin at his slightest touch. 

“I’ve missed you more than you know.” you admitted quietly. 

His eyes raised from his fingers to your eyes and then, as he smiled adoringly, dropped his gaze to your lips. His stare alone could make shivers tear down your spine in the most addicting way and his large hand slid over your jaw to cradle the side of your face. The anticipation was nearly nauseating as his thumb brushed over your cheek and his eyes didn’t waver from your lips even as he licked his own. You wanted to kiss him more than anything, to feel his perfectly soft sculpted lips on yours enough to make your knees weak, and you had tried to imagine it for months but never expected to be face to face with him like this. 

No words had to be spoken as you both leaned in and his hand on your face guided you to tilt your head slightly to the right and let his lips brush against yours. This first shared anticipatory breath was electrifying and, as his lips finally slotted with your own, the warmth of the tropical island air was nothing compared to the fire that burst in the depths of your stomach. You inhaled into it, savouring the taste of his lips on yours as his kiss froze motionlessly for a few seconds. When he leaned back from it and your lips parted with a soft smack, you couldn’t help but grab the front of his shirt and pull him back in for another kiss. You could feel him smile into it as your lips met again, sharing a few lingering kisses that tasted like expensive champagne from the glasses you each still held in your hand. 

Your heart raced in your chest as your hand slid into the back of his hair and you nipped gently on his bottom lip. He let a pleasant hum fall between you, tilting his head a little more to deepen your kiss and part your lips with his own. The champagne and strawberries were forgotten about as you quenched your cravings through his tongue and soft lips, letting him lead into each kiss that made your stomach flutter with desire. 

When a few more moments passed, he pulled back from you with one more tender kiss to your pouted lips and gave you a small smile as he took the champagne flute from your hand and set it back on the tray. Almost impatiently, you watched as he lifted the small tray from the sheets and leaned over to rest it safely on the bedside table, giving him a comfortable range of motion to lean in towards your lips again. You shared a few soft kisses before you both opened up to permit your tongues to join once more and you greedily held his face in your hands like he was your most prized possession. 

George held himself up with one hand against the mattress as his other rested gently against the side of your neck, although you were too hung up on the gentle flexing of his jaw that moved smoothly along with each passionate kiss. The soft smacks of his lips on yours was addicting and you slid your hands down his neck and along his exposed chest as your breathing started to fall in time with his. 

“Mm,” he pulled back ever so slightly and looked at you from under long lashes, “I love kissing you.” 

Your cheeks flushed pink just as he leaned in for more, capturing your bottom lip between his and then your top and then nudged his tongue into your mouth. You felt as light as air as you pushed your mouth on his harder and opened up to let his tongue nudge strongly against yours. You could taste the sweetness of the strawberries and the sharpness of the alcohol in his mouth and each breath you shared just made it more addicting. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

His hands traced the collar of your satin robe and you let him push it off your shoulders and to the bamboo flooring, leaving you in only the blue lingerie set that hugged your body perfectly. You felt on fire, drawn to him in every single way, and you tugged on the material of his white button-up to keep him close as your lips locked in messy passionate kisses. 

But George was leaning back from you again despite the grip you had on his shirt and he shuffled onto the bed a little more and he curled his finger at you to call you over. With an eager smile, you crawled up the end of the bed and met him in the middle, resting on your hands and knees over his outstretched legs as you leaned in towards his lips again. His hands found your hips and he eased you down onto his thighs, making you flush pink behind strong kisses. 

He left you with a few single kisses to your lips before meeting your eyes as his hands rubbed over your waist and along the thin garter belt that was wrapped around your middle. He was gorgeous and the way he looked at you made your stomach twist with eager butterflies, desperate to feel his lips on yours more and more. 

“I want to make love to you.” George breathed, his words sending shivers down your arms and a flutter between your legs, “Right here with this beautiful view of the ocean and no one to disturb us all weekend.”

“All weekend?” you chuckled softly. 

“Yeah.” George whispered, soaking up your body with his hands skimming over each curve of your skin and his lips trailed slow kisses down your neck. “I want to make love to you all weekend…never leave…keep you right here with me.” 

You giggled shyly, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair as his lips blessed your skin, “Maybe we should start with an hour and see where it takes us.”

George hummed against your skin, leaving wet kisses over your collarbones and across your shoulder, “And then order room service.”

“Alright.” you agreed shyly. 

“Okay.” George smiled at you on his lap and he leaned in to kiss your lips once more. 

Between delicious slow kisses, you spoke quietly, “Are you sure?”

George chuckled softly against your lips, “God, baby, there’s nothing I’d rather do.” 

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest and your whole body flushed with an ache for him, raising your hands to the side of his neck as you kissed him strongly a few more times. 

He pulled back slightly again, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, “Are you sure? You seem so hesitant today, sweetheart.”

You shook your head quickly in reassurance and pulled his lips on yours for a few more quick kisses, “I’m so sure. All I want is to make love with you…I’ve been waiting so long.” 

George nipped at your bottom lip through his smile and slid his hands up your back with a peaceful inhale as his lips slotted with yours again. He sat up straighter so your chests were pressed up together and you let your tongue push against his hungrily, letting yourself fall under the bliss of quenched thirst little by little.

The sounds of the waves on the sand rushed faintly through the open windows and the chirping of wildlife rustled through the trees around the resort but you were much more focused on the soft sounds and gentle breaths that George made behind your kisses. Your hands slid down his chest again and started to unbutton the rest of his white shirt slowly. He broke your kiss to watch you for a moment, how your fingers worked the small buttons ever so gently and ever so slowly, really trying to savour every moment. His eyes lingered on your face next, hands held to your hips, not tearing his gaze away even when you pushed open his button-up shirt to reveal his toned chest and abs. Your fingers drank him up in gentle touches and you noticed small shivers rising over his skin as you glided your fingertips down between his pecs and over the chiseled dips of his abs. 

George raised his hand up to glide his fingers over your jaw, “C’mere.” 

He gently guided your chin up to lean in and kiss your lips, sharing slow open mouthed kisses that were barely heard behind the tropical summer breeze. You left your hand against his stomach and let your other tangle in the back of his hair, holding him close to prevent his lips from ever leaving yours. In a bit of excited bravery, you moved your kisses along his smooth jaw and down his neck in slow savouring movements to make him shiver, tasting the salty sea air on his skin. 

George hummed pleasantly, tilting his head to the side slightly to give you room along his neck and you left wet kisses over his warm skin and down to the dip of his shoulder where his open shirt rested. 

“Can I leave marks?” you whispered between gentle kisses. 

“Mhm.” George agreed easily, sliding his fingers in the back of your hair. “As much as you want.” 

You smiled giddily against his skin and moved back up right under his jaw, peppering soft kisses there until his head dropped back a little more. His one hand fell behind him to prop himself up in the middle of the bed and his other stayed in your hair, focusing on the feeling of your lips on his skin until you found your spot and sucked. 

George’s soft shaky sigh was infused with an ever so quiet groan and you smiled into it, tugging gently at his skin with your teeth before easing the forming bruise with a solid lick. You repeated the same routine twice more until his breathing was falling heavier and his hand was tightening in your hair to pull your lips up to his again. 

“You’re gorgeous.” you whispered into his mouth between lazy kisses. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

“I love you.” George breathed. 

“Oh my gosh, I love you.” you replied easily, your voice struggling to not waver with emotion and you covered it up with another hungry kiss. 

You shifted on his lap to kiss along his neck again and down his chest, soaking up each inch of his body like it was heaven sent. George was breathing shallowly, watching you kiss down his tanned torso and sneak a lick over his nipples before moving farther and his hand in your hair only helped guide you down. 

Your lips trailed wet open mouthed kisses between his abs, feeling the stiff muscle under your fingers in the wake of your mouth before shuffling back on his lap a little more. You brushed over the waistband of his thin white slacks and you could already see him tenting the fabric from underneath. He gasped lightly when you dusted your fingers over his growing erection and when you glanced up at him for permission he nodded you on eagerly. He shifted obediently on the mattress as you untied his pants and shuffled them down slightly as you leaned in to press your lips against his stomach again. Your eyes met as you looked up at him for a brief moment, trailing slow teasing kisses down his abs and eagerly followed the line of hair that led you from his navel and down to his pelvis. 

“Oh my gosh, baby.” George breathed, watching carefully as you tugged his pants down his thighs. 

He wasn’t wearing any underwear and you bit your lip eagerly as his dick was let free, eyeing him up for all his worth as he stood tall right in front of your face. You shoved his pants down the rest of the way and he nudged them off his ankle and to the floor and tugged his shirt open wider as you situated yourself between his legs. Your whole body tingled with desire as you draped your hair over one shoulder and leaned down to his lap. 

George inhaled sharply as you let your tongue lick over the head of his dick and his mouth fell open with a soft groan as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked softly. He made your mouth water in the most addicting way and the way he fit in your mouth was better than you ever imagined in your dreams. You moaned around him before pulling back with a small suction to leave a few wet kisses to the tip. Your eyes raised to his again as your tongue teased over the slit and rubbed along the underside of his tip and he looked like a true angel when his eyes fluttered closed and head fell back with a steady moan. 

“That’s so good.” George mumbled, lazily bunching your hair back from your face to hold back as you went down on him. He leaned on one hand against the mattress again, staring down at you as you wrapped your fingers around the length of his cock and gave him a few testing strokes enough to urge him to bite down on his bottom lip. 

You were nearly drooling down your chin at the sight of him so it was no surprise when you didn’t wait long to ease him into your mouth. Your tongue led the way, tracing each curve and gentle vein as he filled your mouth and your hand. George’s soft shaky hum had you starting to stroke him off in steady movements, letting your hand and your mouth work together around his thick length. He didn’t pressure you at all but you soon pushed your mouth down deeper and choked yourself quietly on him on your own free will. 

“F-Fuck, darling.” George whimpered, breathing heavily as his head dropped backwards. “Feels so good.”

You gave him a small moan of your own as you bobbed your head a little faster around him, muffling the sounds of your wet gags as he took up your mouth. Your spit was trickling down from your lips and slicked up his dick and the grip your hand had on the base, only making the whole situation wetter. It was blissfully perfect as you laid on your stomach between his spread legs and sucked him off in savouring steady motions with the warm ocean breeze ruffling into the room through the open windows and white sheer curtains. 

He tasted so good in your mouth - arguably better than the expensive champagne and chocolate covered strawberries - and you hollowed your cheeks to really taste the essence of him and the hint of salty precum that was oozing from his swollen tip. You sped up a little more, bobbing your head in long messy motions in time with your hand until each stroke grazed the back of your throat and your soft muffled wet gags had George’s hand tightening in your hair. 

“Oh- That’s it, darling. That’s it, gorgeous. Don’t stop.” George panted out, staring down his body to you as you kept your pace. 

The pet names made you melt and they sent your racing heart soaring, not to mention the pretty moans that fell from his throat that sounded like an angelic symphony all on their own. You shifted your hands to his thighs and eased them back towards his chest slightly, even though he was still propped up sitting. George slouched back onto his forearm while leaving his other hand still in your hair, his legs bent and pushed back slightly to give you room to suck him off. You dropped your hand down to his balls and rolled them gently in your hand, just enough to have him groaning loudly as his eyebrows furrowed in bliss. But your mouth kept working around him, taking every inch you could time and time again even as you choked yourself on him a little. 

“Don’t stop.” George repeated breathily, his voice a little strained, “Please, baby, don’t stop. Shit.”

You gave him a small moan in content as you kept going, eyes raising to his face even as his hand started to move you a little harder down on him by your hair. You didn’t mind as you wanted to please him and worship him the best you could so you took it gladly. His moans turned into whimpers and you could feel his thighs starting to clench as his hips habitually rolled up against your face and pushed himself deeper still. 

You gagged around him loudly but only sped up more despite his quick, “Sorry, love.” 

Without a break for even a single word, you kept going, giving him nice sloppy head and fondling his balls just enough to have him shuttering underneath you. George shifted again on the mattress and you used your free hand to grip his hip and hold him in place, glancing up through your lashes as his head lolled to the side and he licked his lips before biting them through his furrowed expression. 

He hummed lowly again, his hips trying to move in time with you but you held him down as he whimpered, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum. Please. You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” 

You kept going, keeping him perfectly pleasured by hands and mouth and your moans only sent vibrations down his whole length and he exhaled deeply. You could feel his dick start to twitch in your mouth and you glanced up at his face as he started right back at you with a hazy lust over his expression, his cheeks tinted pink and his jaw clenched through a shaky whimper. 

With a few more quick sloppy bobs of your head, his thighs and his balls were tensing and in a mere second, his head was falling back with a beautiful trembling, “Oh-“

George’s fingers clutched the sheets and your hair as he came, his dick pulsing in your mouth in time with each steady spurt and you raised your hand from his thigh to jerk him off right down your throat. You sputtered around him a little but never dreamt of complaining as he groaned and whimpered and filled your mouth with the warm salty cream that you shamelessly dreamt about tasting. 

He fell into beautiful soft moans as he finished, head lolled to the side with dreamy bats of his eyelashes and his hand in your hair slipped down to caress your face as you pulled off of him with a soft slurp. You kissed over his thighs and hips and then along that thin line of hair that led you right back up to his torso. George’s chest was heaving and he gave you a soft smile as you leaned in to kiss him, swallowing up his pleased hums into your mouth as your tongues pushed messily together and lips smacked ungracefully. 

George shifted up from his forearm to his hand against the mattress and slid his other arm around your waist to hold you close, mumbling between kisses, “You’re so good, baby. Mm, I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” you answered easily, already falling into more of a comfortable state of mind after the initial shock that the island brought you. 

George shifted underneath you and carefully flipped you over on the white down-filled sheets of the king size bed, making sure you fell gently in the cradle of his arms. His lips stayed on yours for a moment longer before he moved down your neck, following the same path you took although he seemed to know your most sensitive spots with near ease. His lips under your ear had you shuttering, your arms wrapping around his back to cling onto the material of his white shirt as your legs slotted together. 

This was heaven, you were sure. Only a mere hour ago you were escaping to this island broken hearted and now, the man of your dreams was wrapped up in bed with you overlooking a picturesque view of the ocean. George’s lips suckled on your neck, the sensation shooting shivers down your spine and you clung onto him tighter. He moaned softly as your hips habitually rutted against his bare thigh and he worked to ease the hickey he left on your skin with a warm lick before shifting down to the dip of your shoulder to make another. 

The tropical breeze cooled his saliva left behind on your neck by his wet kisses and little licks and you felt more in tune with your body than ever by how it was reacting to even the slightest touch. The sun warmed you both and you could feel how its rays soaked the material of George’s white button-up and sparkled in his eyes when he glanced up at you. You ran your hand through his sandy brown hair and he eased farther down your body to leave another hickey on your collarbone and then finally reached your chest. 

“You look so beautiful, I don’t wanna take this off you.” George said softly as he traced the curve of the lingerie bra you wore as it hugged your breasts and contrasted its perfect blue against your skin. 

You shared a small smile with him as he shifted down your body, only stopping to suck a hickey into the flesh of your breast before moving down your stomach in wet kisses. Your head finally dropped back from staring at him intently, letting the cloud-like pillow catch your fall as George’s hands soaked up your hips and he covered you in slow meaningful kisses. 

The image staring back at you from the ceiling was a surprise but you soon clued into the fact that it was your own reflection staring back at you. It showed everything in a whole new angle and you felt your insides clench at the sight of George, naked except for his open white shirt, laying between your legs. 

He snapped the band of your garter belt gently at your waist and you tore your eyes from the mirror on the ceiling to his sweet face. 

“Let me?” he asked. 

You nodded him on and shuffled onto your elbows as he unclipped the straps from the garters and gently pulled the belt off your hips. He left the strip of lace around each of your thighs and sat back on his knees to pull the belt down your legs, before pausing to kiss your shin and your knee and your thigh as he lowered your legs back down to the bed. You left them bent and spread as he settled between them to press a kiss to the front of your panties. 

Still covered, you didn’t feel too exposed to him as you laid back on your forearms and watched him kiss slowly right down between your legs. The gentle touch had you taking your bottom lip between your teeth, watching how he left strong lingering open mouthed kisses right over your clothed clit, trying to play it off casually. Your heart was hammering in your chest and you forced yourself to take a deep calming breath of fresh salty ocean air to stop from getting too in your head as George kissed lower. 

Over your thin panties, George dipped out his tongue slightly between meaningful kisses and you felt his heavy warm sigh against your skin between a deep impatient, “Mmmm.” 

His lips found your inner thigh and he sucked a hickey into your flesh before mirroring it on the other side and then trailed kisses slowly down your legs as he sat back on his knees again. George’s fingers linked in the sides of your panties and pulled them down too, his eyes drinking you up even as you tried to cover yourself with your hand shyly and he dropped your underwear to the ground too. 

“Mm mm.” George scolded sweetly with a hum as he gently pushed your hands away, “Don’t hide from me, gorgeous. Let me see you.” 

“George.” you breathed nervously. 

“Don’t be shy, baby, I got you.” George whispered, leaning back down to kiss your hips and the dip where your pelvis met your legs. “Trust me.” 

“Yeah.” you agreed easily, shifting your hand into his hair instead as he nudged your legs open wider. 

It felt like you had known him for a lifetime despite the fact that it had only been short of an hour since you laid eyes on him for the first time. The trust came surprisingly easy that way and eager fuzzy warmth spread through your chest as he trailed teasing slow kisses closer and closer to your cunt. 

You hadn’t realized how horny you were for more of him until that moment as his agonizing slow kisses over your flushed skin caused your insides to clench pleadingly and a soft impatient whimper fell from your throat. George’s arms looped around your thighs and pulled your legs over his shoulders as he licked his lips and admired your body laid out for him. 

Almost shamefully, you had dreamt of that very moment for months but only ever figured it was to happen in your imagination. Now, laying naked on a tropical king size bed, you felt more blessed by the sight of George settling between your legs than the white sand beaches and perfect ocean view just beyond the open windows of the hotel room. 

“So perfect.” George whispered. “So beautiful.”

He glanced up at your face as he let a thick string of spit slip down from his lips and fall onto your throbbing cunt, the simple action making you gasp softly, only doing so again, louder, as his mouth followed suit. He gave you wet open mouthed kisses right down your folds as his hands found a nice grip around your thighs, keeping your legs open to let him have his way with you. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed out, letting your eyes raise up to the mirror on the ceiling to watch him at another angle. Your mouth fell open as his tongue lapped at your dripping arousal and swirled it and his spit around a bit more. “George.”

He hummed softly for you to feel the vibrations from his lips as he licked and sucked greedily over your folds, smearing your wetness over his mouth. You held your hand in his soft brown hair, watching him intently through the mirror as his head worked between your legs. With only the slightest touch, he could make you feel so damn good. You only craved more. 

George slid his tongue right up between your lips and let out a dreamy sigh before pushing it inside you. Your legs flinched and he held them open and in place as he fucked you with his tongue and his nose nearly brushed your aching clit. 

“Oh God.” you whimpered, “Fuck, baby-“

George flicked his tongue faster inside you, moaning greedily into your body as your hips rutted against his face. But then he pulled back suddenly, eyes raising to your face even as you stared up at the mirror reflection on the ceiling, and he slowed right down, dragging his tongue in calculated patterns between your folds. You spread your legs a little wider and George only grinned as he shifted along with you and held your legs back closer towards your chest in two large hands. 

It didn’t take you long to feel his precise motions of his tongue were actually spelling out his name letter by letter, first and last, over and over. He was claiming you as his in the quietest, filthiest, most discreet way; a way for just the two of you to know. He was making you drip but you craved more. 

You tugged at his hair with one hand and reached down to spread yourself open between two fingers with your other. George chuckled against you, moving to wet open mouthed kisses over your cunt before taking his hand from your thigh to push your fingers away and take over himself. 

He kissed over your clit, keeping his movements slow and gentle as his swollen lips pressed like heaven against your aching core. You were breathing hard in pleading anticipation, staring down your body again to watch his tongue drop out to press down against your clit. Your sharp gasp had him smiling proudly, his eyes locked on yours for a moment as he kept his tongue pressed down strongly in place. 

“Please.” you breathed out, trying to rock your hips to get him to move but he held you in place by your waist. You tugged at his hair, whining pleadingly, “George, baby, please-“

George pulled back with a wet slurp and he licked his lips before bringing his right hand up and slid two fingers in his mouth. You exhaled deeply in anticipation, watching as he slicked up his middle and ring finger in spit with his eyes locked on yours. His left arm slid around your lower stomach to hold you down as his right hand slid down between your folds to collect more of your wetness around them. 

Your feet were resting against his shoulders as you kept your legs bent back to give him room and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from your spread legs as he rubbed his fingers through your arousal until you could hear the thick sound of wetness. George rubbed his fingers between your folds a bit stronger, swirling them around your entrance teasingly, watching how your muscles cleaned for him. 

“Okay, gorgeous,” George whispered before slowly easing his middle finger inside you, “just relax.” 

You hummed peacefully, letting your head fall back gently against the pillows as he pushed his single finger all the way into you. He groaned softly at the gentle squeeze of your body and started easing it out and then back in, watching how your arousal clung to his skin with each gentle thrust. 

“That’s it.” George breathed, landing a kiss to your inner thigh as his finger worked slowly back and forth and you stayed perfectly still for him. 

But then he was adding his second finger and you gripped tighter in his hair, whimpering shakily as the slight stretch pushed across your muscles. Right away, his tongue dropped down to your clit, easing the slight discomfort with reassuring licks that made your walls clench around his fingers. 

“More.” you pleaded softly, “Please, baby. Please, Georgie.” 

“I got you, sweetheart.” George hushed you gently. 

He started to pump his fingers into you slowly and, at the same time, licked strongly over your clit. His mouth was so warm and his fingers were so slender that you couldn’t even form words for a moment, simply staring up into the mirror with an open mouth as he found home between your bent legs. The sight of your hand in his hair felt surreal enough as it was and as his tongue flicked faster over your core, you couldn’t help but grip tighter to the strands with a soft groan. 

George’s fingers nudged themselves deeper and curled upwards in steady strokes, caressing you from the inside out as his mouth only stimulated you more at your clit. His left arm that was tucked under your thigh and across your abdomen held you down for him and he helped himself to your body with pride. Your legs slipped back over his shoulders as his fingers fucked into you faster and the pleasure had you almost folding into yourself, legs wrapping around his head as your fingers tugged at his hair and shaky moans fell from your lips. 

George basked in it, humming contentedly against your most sensitive spot as he kept his steady pace. Your legs were nearly clutching his head between your thighs but he didn’t falter, fingering you in rapid flicks as his tongue swirled messily over your clit, and the room started to fill with your moans and gasps growing louder and louder. You couldn’t contain yourself - he felt far too good and nothing like you had ever imagined before - and despite your pleasurable sounds that were taken by the island breeze, you didn’t dare to stop. 

“George.” you cried out to the ceiling, ankles linking behind his shoulder blades as you nearly tugged him right into your body. With one hand in his hair, your other grabbed the material of his white shirt over his shoulder to pull on too, somehow desperate to have him impossibly closer as your toes curled. “George.” your head tossed back against the white sheets as your back tried to arch off the bed in overwhelming bliss that tightened in your stomach. You stared up into the mirror to watch him between your legs as your hips pushed up against his mouth and his fingers moved at their quick consistent pace while his mouth moaned hungrily around your clit. You swore you were seeing stars as he brought you close and with a few more shallow pants and whimpers, your mouth was falling open with a soft cry of, “O-Oh- George-“

He drank you up with ease, pulling his fingers out to rub at your clit through your orgasm so his tongue could taste every sweet drop that pooled out of you. He groaned pleasantly, slurping and sucking hungrily at your pussy as your legs trembled and your body shuttered with pleasure. You pulled at his hair and his shirt, messing his hair and crinkling the fabric as your eyes rested shut and you basked in the warm waves of beautiful pleasure that washed over you with the tropical breeze. 

George shifted out from the lock of your ankles and you let him shuffle up your body between your spread legs to kiss your swollen lips. Right away, his tongue met yours in sloppy blissful harmony and at the taste of yourself in his mouth, you pushed your head up to kiss him harder. He moaned softly into it, letting his hand cradle your jaw for a moment as he licked his way through your mouth before tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. 

When he pulled back again, you huffed in protest, arms draping lazily over your head as you stared at him longingly. George moved gently but persistently as he sat back on his knees between your spread legs and your eyes dropped to his hand that wrapped around his dick and he stroked it a few times, just enough to show off how hard he was again. You habitually pushed your thighs together tightly as you watched him touch himself but mere seconds later, he was patting his thighs. 

“Come here, sweetheart.” 

The gentle instruction could have melted you and as you moved to sit up, George shuffled closer to the middle of the king size bed on his knees. He held out his hands to you to help you scoot forward and up onto his thighs and you couldn’t help but let your lips find his neck again as you pushed off his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders. 

George caressed your hips, your body so close to his you could feel his dick pressed up between your legs to rub against your clit when you moved. You groaned against his neck as your hips rutted lazily against his just to feel the hard shaft of his cock rubbing blissfully against your sensitive core. 

“God, you’re so pretty.” George mumbled as his hands soaked you up greedily. “You ready, baby?” 

“Please.” you agreed easily. 

“No condom,” he whispered to you as you shuffled up onto your feet on either side of him and he spread his knees slightly, “because I know how much you love to take it raw.” 

“Yeah.” you breathed into his neck as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, speaking before you could really think about it, “Put a baby in me.”

George chuckled softly as his hands groped your ass and you settled teasingly on the head of his dick and lingered there a moment to feel the anticipation of what was about to happen for one more moment. You had waited so long. He left a few wet kisses on your neck and lifted his lips up to your ear to whisper, “As you wish.” 

His large hands helped to guide you down on his dick, staring up at your face to watch how the strong stretch to your muscles made your expression tighten as you sank down on him. Regardless of the slight pain, you focused on the fact that you could feel every curve and every vein on his thick cock as your body sheathed him perfectly. You could feel yourself salivating as you only got him deeper and deeper, staring into his lustful blue eyes in the light of the afternoon sunshine that danced in through the wide open windows and his hands cradled your body carefully and lovingly. George was biting his lip strongly, his eyes locked on yours despite the quiet deep groans that fell from his chest as you squeezed around him so tightly. 

You finally bottomed out, ass pressed against the tops of his spread thighs, and you were nearly sure he was at your cervix. You let out a shaky sigh and held your hands snugly on his shoulders to steady yourself to ease back up his length a little and then drop back down. George hissed softly at the sudden motion but gladly followed your small bounces with his hands on your waist, groaning as he leaned into your chest to kiss over your lace clad breasts that bounced gently in his face. 

“Fuck, darling, you feel so good.” George whispered against your skin, his breathing heavy already and only falling weaker as he lazily started meeting your halfway with little thrusts. 

“Shit!” you squeaked softly, sliding your hands from his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck as your lips dipped down to find his. 

George moaned against your mouth, easing you up and down by his hands as his hips kept soft thrusts in time with it and you held yourself steady on your feet against the mattress and moved with him. You kissed sloppily for a few seconds before having to pull back to breathe and your head fell back with a shaky sigh. George went for your neck, kissing and sucking over your skin as you stared up at the ceiling mirror above you and followed each of your gentle bounces and how he moved right with you.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.” George said against your neck, “You take my cock so well, my love.” 

His dirty words had you moaning for more, trying to bounce on him faster. George shushed you softly and stopped you completely so you were placed right down on his lap, and he tucked your legs around his waist before shifting off his knees to sit against the sheets. He draped his legs out beneath you and wrapped his arms around your body as well and squeezed you close to feel more of him. No instructions needed to be shared as you wrapped your arms around his head and nuzzled into his neck and started grinding right down on him in strong circles. 

“Oh, good girl.” George panted. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s my good girl.” 

“You’re so big.” you whined against his ear as your right hand tangled in the back of his hair and your grinding turned into messy little bounces. “F-Fuck, baby, I can feel you so deep-“ 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so fucking perfect, darling. C’mere.” George leaned his head back slightly to find your lips and you whimpered pleasantly into the off centered kiss before your tongues met and led you into deep passionate lazy kisses. 

With cheeks flushed pink, you felt as though you had reached the peak of life’s blissful offerings right there, that nothing on earth could be this incredible. The taste of his lips, the heat of his touch, the steady stretch he pushed so deep inside you; it was heavenly. Sitting entangled together in the middle of the king size bed was where you had always dreamt to be, and your eyes fluttered closed as his lips found your neck and you ground down on him steadily. You wanted to feel everything and to bask in each second that passed because who knew how long you would have him to yourself. You wanted him forever, to never leave, to fit together as one until the end of time. You couldn’t think of letting him go. Not after this. 

Your thoughts seemed to spiral and your hips slowed down on him until you were barely moving, simply clutching onto him and staring into space against his neck. George sensed your change and slid his hands up your hips and to your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands to bring your lips to his for a few tender kisses. 

“I love you.” he whispered. 

“I love you.” you replied just as quietly. 

“You are my everything.” George breathed, his lips brushing yours as he spoke so closely. “You are the love of my life.”

“George.” you said bashfully, trying to hide the blush of your cheeks that he kissed over. 

“I mean it,” he whispered against your ear, “I love you.”

It was as if those three words sparked an eternal flame in your stomach, soaring up through your heart and your chest and through your cheeks and right down to where he was tucked deeply inside you. You had him. All of him. For an afternoon, for a weekend, and what felt like was to be a lifetime. You shivered in his arms, held by him right up to his chest until you felt completely encompassed and the warm ocean air wafted through the billowing sheer curtains and wrapped around the both of you like a ribbon to tie you together for the rest of time. It felt so easy with him, there, like that, and you slid your hands out of his hair and down his jawline, keeping your eyes on his. 

“I love you, my sunshine.” you breathed, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs before leaning down to kiss him again. 

George locked your bottom lip between his two, savouring your few kisses between gentle wet smacks of parting and breaths of meeting, and secured his arms around your body. He lifted you up slightly and you clung onto him, focussing on his lips on yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he gently laid you down onto the fluffy white sheets. He pushed deeper into you, urging your head back against the pillow and you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, staring up into his eyes as he repeated that action, easing into you again so you could feel every inch of him. 

“There.” he cooed, pushing in deep again. “Good?”

You nodded, “So good.”

“Okay.” George smiled softly and leaned down to kiss you. 

You let your lips lock with his, arms raising to drape around his shoulders as he thrusted steadily into you. He was nearly pulling out all the way before pushing back in deep but he still managed to kiss you right through it, sharing heavy breaths and soft moans between your lips. With your hands on his bare back, you could feel his muscles tensing and moving along with him and you felt how the sun kissed glow of his skin under your fingertips was soft with touches from

paradise. George dropped his head to your neck with his forearms rested on either side of you and moved his hips into yours in intoxicating curling thrusts that tingled every single nerve in your body. 

The reflection in the spotless mirror above you only made your body flush hot in desire as you stared up at it from over George’s shoulder. You could see every inch of his bare skin that way and could follow your hands as you soaked up his body down his back and to his thighs, pulling him in with hands and ankles linked behind his back. With each deep curling thrust into you he was groaning against your ear, filling your soul with the bliss of his pleasure that you were bringing him. It made you crave more of him; having him on top of you and inside you wasn’t enough anymore. 

Your hands pressed into the muscles of his back like he was moldable sand and your linked ankles pressed the heels of your feet into his bum to pull him deeper with each rock of his hips. Your teeth had trapped your bottom lip and you stared up into the mirror to watch him have you right in the centre of the king size bed. He smelt like the ocean, like the salty fresh air, like freedom. 

“More.” you whispered before you could think. “I want more of you.” 

George hummed against your neck and left a fleeting kiss under your ear, “Hang on, sweetheart.”

You reached for him as he sat back from you on his knees and pulled your legs out from around his waist. He lifted them up to his shoulders and sent you a small smile as he rested one hand down gently on your lower stomach and pushed his hips into yours again. He could get so much deeper that way and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he nudged against your innermost muscles. 

“Better?” George asked softly. 

The afternoon tropical sun that came in through the large open windows glinted against his abs and the muscles of his torso in the thin sheen of sweat that was forming. His sandy brown hair was ruffled messily on top of his head and falling over his forehead as he stared down at you with blue eyes like the ocean. They sparkled. 

“Yeah.” you answered, sliding your hands up his arms. 

George leaned back down over you and your ankles linked together behind his neck as your eyes met and he thrusted slowly into you again. You could see him slightly clench his jaw as he sheathed inside you all the way and his soft groan urged your hands to hold tighter to his biceps. He found his pace again with deep curling thrusts that had your eyes fluttering closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip with a pleased whimper. 

“Gonna go faster, darling.” George whispered. 

“Please.” you agreed with ease. 

His hands gripped tighter to the sheets on either side of you to ground himself slightly as he sped up, pulling back to thrust into you faster and used the slight spring in the mattress to his benefit. 

“Yeah.” you sobbed out without thinking, letting your gaze drift past him again to the mirror. 

You could feel his warm breath and his soft grunts in time with his thrusts against your cheeks, but you didn’t tear your eyes from the sight of him in the reflection above you down to your legs hooked over his shoulders. He kept pulling back to push down into you again and again, focusing harder rather than curling because having you bent so much already had him teasing your g-spot. You were waiting for it, your breath constantly freezing in anticipation in your chest, and you looked back at his face with hands clung onto his arms. He kept your eye contact, sharing breaths as he shifted slightly higher and tried a bit of a newer angle to watch how your mouth dropped open slightly. 

“Right there?” George asked with a soft chuckle. 

“Uh huh. Right there.” you nodded quickly. 

“Okay, baby. I got it.” George whispered, holding himself up on his hands beside your head as he pulled out of you just long enough to shove back in. 

“Oh God.” you cried out. 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” George breathed. 

You only shook your head as he continued, fucking down into you in quick thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you each time. As he got harder, the faint crash of waves on sand from the beaches were hidden behind the steady slap of his skin on yours and your breaths mixing between shared soft grunts and moans. Your hands moved from his biceps to his waist and you followed each of his messy movements eagerly, savouring each delicious thrust as you tried to pull him impossibly deeper. 

“Mmm, you feel so good.” George mumbled. “Are you close?” 

You couldn’t deny the lust in his voice that only helped his perfect strokes to make you near dizzy and you could only nod out a shaky, “Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” he taunted breathlessly, his accent thick with lust, “I want to make you cum, baby. I want to feel your pretty pussy cum for me.”

“George.” you whimpered at his words. 

He only worked harder, keeping that consistent pace that had your toes curling and your nails digging into his back. He wouldn’t stop staring at you, even when your face screwed up in pleasure and your pleading moans fell from your lips. 

“Feel me.” George whispered. “Feel how deep I am…how good it feels…feel my body on top of you.”

“George.” you cried shakily.

“How much I love you.” 

“Oh my God-“ your voice was wavering as you felt your stomach tighten and your muscles clench down on him. 

“That’s it, gorgeous.” George praised, not hesitating for a moment through his consistent pace and perfect angle. “Fuck, you look so pretty. Shit, baby, I wanna put all my love into you…always.” 

“Please, George, please, baby-“ you cried out shakily. 

He groaned lowly, eyebrows furrowing in perfect pleasure, his skin slapping filthily with yours until you could feel him twitch slightly inside you. He bit his lip strongly, letting you scratch up his back in your efforts to cling onto something. 

“Cum with me, darling.” George panted. “On 3…okay?”

Your pleading whimper was agreement enough. 

George couldn’t help but thrust into you a little faster, “Okay, gorgeous. 3…” 

You stared up at him, focussed on nothing else in the world but the addicting fullness he could give you and the raw pleasure that ripped through your body. He was a wonder on top of you and you slid one hand to the back of his neck. 

“2…” 

It was hard to hold back but for him you would do anything, especially as he stared into your eyes under those long lashes and wisps of brown hair. You didn’t even need to touch yourself to feel close, already wanting to let go even if he was making you hold it for a few seconds longer. 

“1…”

George barely caught a breath and didn’t even wait a full count before rushing out a, “Now.”

You didn’t need any other instruction; that simple word was enough to send you over the edge. Your right hand flew to his hair to have something substantial to grab onto as you came and he shoved right into you and held it there for a few seconds as your muscles squeezed down on him. George’s head tossed back slightly as he let a loud moan fall from his throat and you felt the first spurt release inside you. You whimpered pitchily, eyes screwed shut and back arching blissfully off the perfect white sheets. George easily slid his arm under your waist and pulled back just enough to push nice and deep inside you again as he whimpered and groaned and filled you up with warm shots of cum. 

It was heavenly, especially feeling how he pulsed inside your tight muscles with each burst, and his face of pleasure was nothing short of perfection. You cried his name blissfully, not caring if any strangers could hear you through the open windows from the beach, and your moans were sung through the summer breeze. You clung onto him as he held you close, leaning up slightly to swallow his pleasant moans with your lips and you kissed lazily for a few moments as the intensity of your orgasms subsided. 

Both of you pulled back from your kiss at the same time to breathe, sharing soft smiles as George carefully let your legs rest down against the bed. He slid out of you and reached a hand down to soothe your sensitive wet body with gentle touches as he shuffled onto the sheets beside you. You left your legs spread lazily and let your eyes linger on his face while he rubbed his fingers softly over your folds and finally down your thigh, smearing the mix of your cum over your flushed skin and linked his finger in the lace band of your garter. With a pleasant hum, you leaned in towards him and kissed his lips softly, smiling into it as he melted against your touch and kissed you back. 

His hand raised to your chin, holding you there as you shared lingering breathless kisses before he left one more to your nose in conclusion. With a tired sigh, he laid flat beside you and you both stared up into the mirror above as you steadied your breathing and tried to compose yourself over what just happened. 

George seemed to read your mind as he broke your silence, “That was incredible.” 

“Yeah.” you chuckled softly. “That was...amazing.” 

George leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek before he was shuffling the white sheets up around your bodies to keep somewhat decent with the wide open windows and ocean breeze that left you exposed. You moved carefully with him as he draped his arm around your shoulders and you cuddled into his side while sharing a down-filled pillow. Your arm tucked around his middle and you slid your fingers over his abs and rested your hand against his chest, smiling to yourself at the feeling of his strong heartbeat under your palm. He kissed your forehead and brushed his thumb over your bare shoulder lazily, letting his eyes close with his cheek against your head as if ready for a late afternoon nap. 

Your eyes drifted up to the mirror again as your head rested on his shoulder and you let your eyes soak up the image of the two of you together. It looked surreal, like a painting created of the brightest and most vibrant hues of the sun and the ocean and the sand, although you were sure there was no better composition on earth. George’s eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his flushed cheeks, and his nose was pressed to your head like he was trying to inhale your scent into his dreams. You didn’t move an inch as you stared up at him and let your eyes trace each curve of his muscle and the lines of his body and up his opposite arm that was lazily tucked up behind his head of messy brown hair. He was peaceful...serene...tranquil, and a sight more breathtaking than any corner of the remote island you found yourself on. 

In the silence only taken up by the distant crash of waves and songs of tropical birds, you spoke, “Whoever put that mirror up there was a fucking genius.”

George’s lips turned up into a smile and he shifted slightly without opening his eyes, leaving a kiss to your temple. You let your eyes close too and cuddled closer into him, even as your body shifted and started to push out some of the thick creamy liquid that had claimed you from the inside out. Your soft flat hum had him kissing your head again and his fingers danced along the back of your neck in feather soft patterns. 

“You feeling okay?” George asked in a whisper. 

“Never better.” you answered easily. 

You leaned your head back slightly and stared up at him as he met your gaze and he dipped down to kiss your lips, once, twice, three times, and then dusted one over your cheek as your head found his shoulder again. 

“I love you.” he breathed into your hair. 

“I love you.” you smiled softly, savouring the feeling of his warm skin pressed against your own. 

Your legs tangled together under the white sheets, wrapped up in each other’s arms, with breaths and hearts in steady time. Time felt infinite. The thought of leaving that very crease of the mattress was dreadful to you and you forced yourself to take it minute by minute; caressing his chest with your thumb. His skin was warm and tasted salty with sweat when you kissed him. You trailed slow kisses over his collarbones and along his neck and breathed him in, the faint lingering scent of his cologne and the natural pheromones of his body that only drew you in more and more. 

“I want to stay right here with you forever.” you whispered dreamily. 

“Mm,” George smiled and rubbed his hand tenderly over your back, “Me too.” 

You tightened your arm around his body and linked your leg over his two, ignoring the warm ache of your hips and the thick cream that dripped out of you and onto the sheets below. George shifted slightly and rose his arm up with a stretching groan until his muscles tensed for a moment underneath you. He sighed deeply and dropped his arm above his head, his eyes blinking open to meet your gaze through the mirror on the ceiling. You both broke into bashful smiles in the reflection and he kissed your head once more before taking his arm from around your shoulders and started to move away from you. 

“Where are you going?” you asked quickly, reaching out to grab his arm again. 

“Relax, my love.” George chuckled as he sensed the slight panic in your voice and he stroked your cheek lovingly, “Aren’t you hungry?”

You hadn’t realized it at first, too preoccupied by him, but when he said it you realized how hungry you actually were. You smiled up at him and nodded and he dipped down to kiss you once before you let him shuffle away from you and to the side of the bed. 

The white sheets rested around his waist, showing off the toned muscle of his back and the few red scratches that marked him as yours. Still laying in the middle of the bed, you reached out a hand to rub over his back and his waist as he lifted the corded phone from the bedside table to call the resort restaurant. 

He sounded so professional on the phone as he ordered you each a burger and fries and you rolled over to hide your blissful blush against his shoulder. Your arm snaked around his body and held him close and his hand rested gently over yours against his chest. He thanked the person on the phone before hanging up and rolling over to tackle you down again into the cloudlike king size bed, showering you in kisses to make you laugh gleefully into the tropical air. 

There you laid together, sharing kisses and caresses as the minutes passed by and the waves greeted the shore in rhythmic whispers in the distance. Something about his naked body pressed up and entangled with yours was heavenly and you felt as light as the sheer white curtains billowing in the warm breeze. 

A quarter hour later, there was a knock on the door and both of you glanced across the room to the direction of the small entryway. George was propped up over top of you but you eased him to the side so you could retrieve your order, leaving him with a few quick kisses before grabbing your silk robe from where it had been tossed to the floor. He flopped back onto the bed as you tied up your robe and hurried over to answer the door. 

The island host was standing on the other side when you peeked out, the room service trolley at her side, and she sent you a knowing smile and a whisper of, “How are you enjoying your stay so far? It looks like you’ve been having fun.”

You hand raised instinctively to the side of your neck that was littered in hickeys but you didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment. You only grinned at her and replied softly, “It’s…incredible. Is this real?”

“It is not a dream, I can assure you of that.” she said with a gentle laugh. 

“How is this real? How could he tell me he loves me so easily…and make love like he meant it?” your words fumbled out of you before you could think. 

She only offered you a, “Don’t question the workings of the island. It’s here to give you what you need. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glanced behind you quickly to make sure George wasn’t overhearing before you turned back to her and asked quietly, “I have never felt this…at ease in so long. Peaceful. My heart feels so full. I…I can’t believe this.”

“You’re glowing.” the host complimented. 

“He’s everything I dreamt about and more. He’s…so perfect.” you whispered, resting your cheek against your hand as you held onto the doorframe. “I’m dizzy in love.”

“Well, I’m glad the island could help you!” she slid the small trolley between you, “I just wanted to check in and bring your dinner along with me.”

“Before you go,” you spoke up quickly. 

She stopped herself from leaving and waited for your continuation. 

You shuffled nervously, anxious for the answer she would give you to the question that burned in the back of your mind. Finally, you asked, “What happens when I leave on Monday morning? Will this just…be forgotten? Will I go back to being nothing to him?”

The host sighed, a kind smile unwavering from her face, “Just live in the present and take it minute by minute. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

You bit nervously on your bottom lip but before you could answer, a hand was resting on your waist and George was standing right behind you, wrapped in the white down-filled duvet. 

“What’s taking so long over here, darling? I’m starving.” George said lightheartedly, sending a small smile to the host of the island as he stood right up close beside you. 

Without answering him directly, the host just directed more towards you a blanket request of, “Just focus on having a relaxing and calming stay this weekend. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

You and George both thanked her and she headed off down the wood path through the resort once more. He slid his arm tighter around your middle, “What was that all about?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder to meet his gaze, “Nothin’. Just telling her how much we have enjoyed ourselves so far.”

George gave your hip a squeeze and your bum a little smack and pressed a strong kiss to your neck, “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s eat.” 

You were sure there was no better bliss than waking up tangled in sheets and George’s arms. You stayed in bed for over an hour, cuddling and drifting in and out of sleep as the sun rose over the horizon. After a filling breakfast at the resort restaurant with all your favourite foods lined up along the buffet and piled on your plate, you were guided to the spa. George didn’t leave your side all morning, always staying within arms reach and holding your hand as you checked into your appointment. 

The lady led you down the bamboo lined hallway to the large dark room near the end, lined with candles and infused with natural scents of eucalyptus and sage. The two single beds were resting in the centre of the room and the lady left you to prepare for the massage. 

“I thought I was going to have to do all of this by myself.” you admitted quietly, watching as George untied his robe and laid it over the small chair by the wall. 

“Would you rather be by yourself?” he asked. 

“God, no.” you answered easily. 

George laughed lightly. 

You both undressed to your underwear and draped your spa robes neatly to the side. With your arm over your bare chest, you shuffled onto the massage bed, trying not to shy away from George’s obvious staring from a few feet away. Both of you were perfectly aware that your skin was marked up in love bites and his back donned red scratches, but on Fantasy Island, no one would give a second glance. It was your fantasy after all. 

The thin linens were tucked up your back as you laid on your stomachs and you waited for the two masseuses to enter, letting the warm air and the soothing spa music to relax you. 

“I’ve never had one of these.” George spoke softly. 

You turned your head to look over at him on your left, “You haven’t?”

“Not like this. Just work-related massages…sports massages…this is nicer.” George smiled over at you and reached out a hand from under the blanket. You did the same and your fingers linked together lazily for a moment as you shared a smile from opposite massage tables. 

When the masseuses came into the room, they got you both situated and set up their shared selection of oils and creams. With your head facing down in the cushioned face cradle, you couldn’t see George but even just knowing he was right there beside you was enough to ease any stresses you still had left over from your last few months. The two men worked on your backs first, slicking up your skin in warm oils and working their hands along your muscles beautifully. 

George’s soft groan from your left made you smile to yourself quietly, keeping your eyes closed as you focused on the pressured hands of your masseuse. 

“Ugh, fuck, that’s good.” George groaned, his voice muffled by the linens. “Ohh, yeah.”

“Baby,” you chuckled shyly and reached out your hand towards him, “Stop.”

“Stop what?” George mumbled, lazily taking your hand in his. 

“Stop...being so loud.” 

He only hummed, resting his face back into the bed just as his masseuse pressed his thumbs down into his shoulders. George’s deep moan nearly shot shivers down your spine and right between your legs and you gripped tighter onto his hand. You laid side by side on your individual beds, holding hands between you, and basking in the comforting warmth that relaxed your body and your mind. 

Despite the pleasing deep touch of your masseuse over your stiff muscles, you could really only focus on George’s soft moans and groans that he let out with his tension into the linens. You really were looking forward to your massage but now, you were more looking forward to getting back to the room. 

When the hour and a half was up and the two masseuses left the room to let you rise when you wished, both you and George sighed deeply at the same time. You shared soft laughter between you and glanced over at each other from where you were now laying on your backs. The linens were pulled up your chests, keeping you decent and keeping George’s abs covered to stay somewhat warm. Your hands reached out to find each others again and his thumb rubbed over your knuckles gently, eyes lingering through the dark candle lit room. 

“This was better than I expected.” George admitted. 

“You sure you didn’t want a mud bath or something instead?” you chuckled. 

George shook his head, “No way. This was perfect.” 

With one more squeeze of your hands, you both slowly started to get up and slipped on the robes again. George tied the cloth belt around his waist and you stepped up to set your hand on his arm and pushed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“What was that for?” he chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close and kiss you again before you could answer. 

“I just love you.” you shrugged. “And this weekend.” 

George brushed his hand over your messy hair and down your jaw, “I love you too.”

“I feel so slimy from the oils.” you whispered as he leaned in to kiss you softly again. 

“Shower?” he offered between gentle kisses to your waiting lips. 

“Yeah.” you agreed quietly, resting your hands against the front of his robe as you gladly accepted his kisses. 

“With me?” George tried. 

You smiled wider and slid your arms around his waist to cling onto him in a tight hug, “Yes, please.” 

He cradled your cheek in his hand and kissed you deeply, capturing your bottom lip between his two in slow kisses that made your heart race. You pulled him closer until your robe clad bodies were pressed up against each other and shared lingering kisses for a few more seconds. 

Finally, George took your hand and pulled you out of the massage room and into the hallway of the spa, the bright sunlight blinding you slightly as you stepped out into the light, but he just led the way over the soft flooring. A few doors down near the end of the hall were the private change rooms and he pulled you into one without a word. You couldn’t stop a small giggle from falling from your lips as he locked the door behind you and let your body drape around him. 

The set up of the small change room was that of a full bath with additional lockers and seating areas and a sauna in true spa fashion. Along the far side was a full wall of windows framing the bathtub and the glass stand up shower, providing a full view of lush foliage right out towards the white sand beaches and crystal blue ocean in the distance. You let your eyes take in the scenery as George’s arms snaked around your waist and his lips found your neck in wet open mouthed kisses. He didn’t seem bothered by the massage oils that lightly coated your skin. 

You set your hands on his biceps underneath the soft white fabric of his robe and smiled to yourself as his touch sent shivers down your spine, “Baby, you were moaning so loud during the massage.” 

George chuckled against your neck, “So what? It felt good.” 

You hummed softly and he lifted his head up to push his lips on yours. You gladly accepted his kisses, staying slow and gentle. 

In a whisper, he spoke, “Did it turn you on?”

“Maybe.” you teased. 

“All I could think about was having your hands on me like that…with those oils and creams and rubbing it into my body…all over…can you blame me?” His hands slid into yours and your fingers linked lazily together at your sides. His eyes stayed locked with yours as if purposely rising that anticipation between you as your lips rested only millimeters apart. His gaze dropped to your lips then back up. “God, I just want you all over me.”

Your robe dropped before you could even think, his hands and yours at fault to the sudden action before the rush to undress really started. George yanked his robe off too and your eyes stayed locked as you both pushed your underwear down and kicked it to the side. You nearly lunged for him, his arms welcoming you eagerly as your lips met messily and your slick skin met in a perfect warm embrace. His moan wasn’t unlike the ones he had let out during the massage and as his tongue pushed into your mouth, he grabbed your thigh and hiked your leg up around his waist. 

Right in the middle of the room you stood together, in the light of the afternoon sun, bare bodies slick in oil pressed together and hands gripping onto flesh as you kissed. You were sure you were leaving more scratches against his back, clinging onto him tightly as he kissed the air from your lungs. His handprints smeared over your warm skin, muscles eased from your massage and now craving him more and more as he drank you up in his hands. 

“George.” you breathed into his mouth. 

“Come.” he whispered, leaving you with a bite to your bottom lip before taking your hand and pulling you after him into the large glass shower. 

Your eyes lingered on his bare body as he turned on the water and set the temperature, fully exposed to him all naturally in the light of the tropical sun streaking through the window wall framing the shower. He was glowing, not only from the oil that slicked up his skin, but from the paradise that looked so good on him. He was a vision and you still couldn’t believe your luck as he turned back to you, captured your chin in his hand, and parted his lips to lock with yours passionately. 

George grabbed your hips and pulled you into the stream of warm water, blindly kissing through it as the oil was washed from your bodies slowly and your hair was damped to fall over your shoulders and foreheads. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tilted your head to the side to kiss him deeper, pushing your tongue against his eagerly as your chests pressed together and bodies moulded together. 

George leaned back from your lips and reached a hand up to push his soaked hair back from his face before setting it back around your waist, “You know, baby…”

You stared at his lips as he spoke, watching how he formed each word. 

“That full body massage was so good but...it was missing one thing.” 

“What’s that?” you giggled softly. 

George’s hand slapped down hard against your ass, the water on your skin causing the sound to echo loudly through the shower, “This perfect part of you. I should pick up the slack.” 

You shared soft laughter at his ridiculousness as you both leaned in for more kisses and his hands groped the flesh of your bum, pulling you tighter against him. His dick was pressed against your thigh and could feel how hard he was getting. It only made you tug his lips on yours stronger, letting the water cascade over both of you steadily onto the marble floor. The soft rush of the shower water was the perfect backdrop to your steamy kisses, muting the world around you even if it was on display through the large picture window overlooking the greenery and the distant beach. 

George slowly walked you out of the stream of water and pushed you back against the glass, moving his kisses down your neck before he was dropping to his knees. You exhaled deeply in anticipation, letting him lift your left leg up to drape over his shoulder and his eyes stayed on yours as he kissed over your inner thigh briefly. His large hands slid up your hips and back down to your thighs and your ass, squeezing and rubbing and massaging until you were relaxing under his touch. 

“That’s my girl.” George whispered, kissing over your hips slowly. “Just relax.” 

You pushed your hand through his wet hair lazily, scratching your fingers through the roots just as he sucked a hickey into your thigh. You hummed softly, letting your head roll back gently against the window and your eyes fluttered closed as he slid his hand between your legs. He rubbed slow stripes back and forth over your folds, just enough to feel how wet you were while still teasing you agonizingly slowly. 

“George.” you breathed, trying to push your hips towards him, “Please, baby.” 

He shuffled closer on his knees, stretching your leg a bit farther over his shoulder to spread you open for him to lean in and swipe his tongue along your folds. Your breath shuttered in your chest as he licked his lips free of the taste of you and let his eyes raise up to yours as he moved back in again. His tongue glided strongly between your legs, parting your lips to taste some of the sweet arousal that pooled out of you and he moaned pleasantly against your damp skin. 

“Holy...fuck, George.” you whimpered shakily, dropping your head to look down at him with our hand in his hair as he suckled and licked and kissed over your cunt. 

His large hands slid up your thighs and around your body to grope your ass. Your hips pushed off the window slightly towards his face and gave him room to spank you lightly before he grabbed tightly to your flesh and pulled you closer to his mouth. 

His tongue slid up to your clit and he swirled strong circles over it to make your fingers grip tighter to his hair as your whole body flinched. A soft shriek fell from your lips and you scrunched your nose up as he found a steady pattern with his tongue. His hands stayed on your ass, massaging your flesh as he pressed strong swirls against your clit and finally let one hand move to spread you open between thumb and forefinger. 

You squealed his name as he sucked hard over your clit, your heel pressing against his back between his shoulder blades to keep his face between your legs. Both your hands gripped tightly in his wet hair as you rolled your hips against his face and he stared up at you behind long lashes, not faltering for a moment. His mouth made filthy wet sounds against your body as he sucked and licked his way through your most sensitive spots, yet was muffled by the drone of the shower still running just behind him. 

“Baby,” you cried out softly, moaning softly through the glass shower, “George…sweetheart…Geor-G-George, baby-“

He only moaned louder against you, pressing his tongue down harder and flicked it back and forth faster and faster as his hands squeezed your ass. You tossed your head back against the glass, biting your lip desperately as you whimpered and moaned through the echoing shower, and rubbed your hips harder against his face. 

“God, you taste so,” George paused for one more strong lick, “so fucking good.” 

He rose up from his knees no matter how much you tried to keep him there with your hands in his hair and your leg around his back. George only shifted your leg from his shoulder to his waist and he pushed you back against the window harder, trapping you snugly against his body. His hard cock naturally fit between your legs and you couldn’t help but try to rut your hips against it desperately, letting out a strangled little cry just as he leaned in to kiss you again. You could taste yourself on his mouth and you held his face in your hands as you sucked on his tongue and lips and savoured his sloppy kisses. 

You couldn’t even worry about what anyone else might see from the outside of the window as you were far too concerned with what was happening inside. The layers of foliage would hopefully disguise you enough. With your bare body pressed against the glass wall, George held you there strongly by a hand on your shoulder as his other dropped between you to angle his dick between your legs. 

“Yes. Please.” you whispered to him, tugging your leg up higher around his waist to spread yourself open and he slid the tip between your folds, back and forth. You bit your lip again, arms draped around his shoulders, staring at his concentrated face as he watched himself tease you. But in a sudden instant, he was pushing strongly inside you.

Your jaw fell slack at the stretch, whimpering softly as his eyes rose to yours and he groaned lowly between you. He fit inside you so perfectly that you couldn’t hide the hint of a smile that grazed your face. George’s hands dropped to your ass again and he hoisted you closer until your tiptoe was barely left on the wet tile floor, your body pressed flush against his as he was buried nice and deeply inside you. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” George whispered, his lips grazing yours with how close you were, “And you feel so incredible, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me.” you blurted out quietly, staring him right in the eyes. 

“Of course.” George chuckled softly, leaning in for a sloppy kiss as he hiked you up higher against the window and you let your other leg join around his waist. He shuffled in place to make sure he had a good grip on you and he pushed your back against the glass, having been warmed by the tropical island heat. 

He rolled his hips into you slowly at first, his hands gripping tightly to your ass to pull your body into each motion. Your breathing was falling shallow and in time with each other, staring into each other’s eyes in your close proximity, and your hand slid into the back of his wet hair. George started to thrust into you deeply, pulling out and pushing back in with long slow strokes that had you moaning pleasantly at the beautiful stretch. His lips captured your gaze and you couldn’t help but stare at the perfect shape of his cupid’s bow and the plush enticing curves begging for a kiss, entranced by the sight of him and his every detail, especially as his teeth sunk gently into the supple pink flesh of his bottom lip. 

He pushed a little stronger into you, groaning lightly between you as he did so and you linked your ankles together behind his back to keep him nice and deep. His eyes stayed on your face, your body shifting slightly against the window with each strong slow thrust, up and back down, again and again. 

“More, baby, please.” you begged quietly. 

George’s lips perked up at the corner in a small smirk before he pushed into you stronger. 

“Yeah-“ you breathed, gasping as he shoved into you harder. “Shit-“

“Good?” he asked breathily. 

“Harder. Faster. Gimme more.” you ordered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter as his hips pushed against yours with more force. You moaned softly as he picked up speed, your eyes locked as he fucked into you sharply. 

George’s hands on your ass kept you open wide for him to use and his heavy breaths fell in rough pants infused with quiet grunts and moans with each snap of his hips. He kept his legs spread slightly to keep balance in the shower and held you against the window for support as he bounced you on his dick in time with his hard thrusts. 

“George! Fuck! Yes!” you squealed, clawing up his back as your forehead fell gently against his. “Oh my God!” 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You’re so fucking perfect.” George mumbled between you. 

You pushed your lips on his, both of you moaning through ungrateful kisses as he fucked you against the window. One of his hands moved to press against the glass beside your head, his tongue fighting its way into your mouth through your shared groans as you clung onto him desperately. 

Despite the water that was still running through the shower, the wet clap of your skin together overpowered it with ease. You had to break your kiss to breathe, gasping in pleasant overwhelm as your head fell back and his lips met your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close. 

“Oh, George-“ you cried shakily. 

“Say my name, baby.” he groaned into your neck. 

“George.” you repeated in a tone dripping with lust. 

“Fuck.” he grunted, grabbing one of your breasts in his hand as he pounded into you harder. 

“George!” you gasped, tugging at his hair as your head fell back against the glass. “Oh, George, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum!” 

But then he stopped suddenly and didn’t even give you a chance to complain before he was setting your feet down on the ground and spun you around to face out of the large paned window. Your hands instinctively went to the glass just as he slid his dick between your legs and you pushed your hips back to help him inside you again. Your shaky moan at the return of the stretch and his hands finding your hips and his lips meeting your neck. 

His hands kept your legs straight and together, creating the tightest little spot for him to squeeze into and right away, he was fucking into you roughly. Your hands squeaked down the slightly steamy glass as your chest pushed out a loud moan and you tried to push back on him for more. His breath was hot against your neck, one arm around your middle and the other gripping one of your breasts as he pounded into you, groaning hungrily against your wet skin. 

Your eyes struggled to stay open but you let yourself take in the beautiful nature that surrounded the resort, displayed right before you out the window wall of the spa shower. From the breeze ruffling the trees to the muted crash of waves onto the sandy shore, it was beautiful and serene and not a person in sight to stumble upon your steamy shower scene. 

The shower only echoed the filthy loud clap of George’s skin on yours that grew only louder as he sped up. You reached a hand back to tangle in his hair, arching your back for him to have him ramming into your g-spot perfectly. 

“Oh, fuck, baby!” you squealed. “Right there! Please, please, please!”

George’s teeth sunk into your shoulder gently, moaning loudly against your flesh as your pussy squeezed around him tightly. You were just so warm and wet he couldn’t get enough, his hips snapping against yours at nearly record speeds, driven by fierce desire. 

He clung onto you possessively, groaning against your ear, “That’s it, beautiful. Cum on my cock. Come on. Show me how much you love me, baby girl.” 

“Geo-o-o-rge-“ you sobbed out blissfully in time with his rough thrusts, tugging harder at his hair over your shoulder as your other hand dropped to swirl messily over your clit. “F-Fuck!”

“Good girl, sweetheart.” George praised, his warm jagged breath sending shivers down your neck, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight, darling.”

“Cum inside me.” you whimpered. “I want it so fucking bad!” 

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby. I love you so fucking much.” George groaned, smacking your hand away from between your legs to take over for you. His slender fingers rubbed rough circles over your clit as he pounded into you from behind and your whole body shuttered with overwhelming pleasure. 

You couldn’t even speak for a moment, breath knocked from your lungs, and you just stared out the window with your mouth hanging agape. Finally, your chest heaved with a sudden inhale and your legs trembled beneath you as warmth spread through your stomach and you rushed out a pitchy, “Fuck, George, I’m cumming!” 

He held you upright in his arms as you came around him, your moans and cries echoing through the shower, as he fucked you through it as your pussy clenched down on him so hard he nearly stumbled. He followed seconds later, shooting thick shots of cum deep inside you with loud groans let out against your neck, his hands gripping your body wherever he could reach. You breathed heavily, your muscles pulsing around him to accept him all as his dick twitched inside you with each messy spurt. 

“I love you.” you whimpered out, eyes falling closed as he kissed your neck through the tapering off of your orgasms. 

“Mm,” George smiled against your wet skin and he gave your hips a little squeeze, “I love you.” 

You leaned your head back against his shoulder and led his lips to yours for a proper kiss, staying there for a few more seconds just to savour the moment. The running shower swallowed the sounds of your kisses and washed away the thick white cream that dripped out of you as he pulled out. But he dropped to his knees behind you and spread your ass in his large hands and leaned in to lick up the mess that was leaking out of you. 

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, pressing your hands against the glass to keep yourself upright as he licked and sucked over your aching and sensitive pussy to help clean you up. He wasn’t there for too long and he sat back to spank you hard and then massaged your flesh with his snug grip. George left a few kisses over your thighs and ass and hips as he stood and then went back for your neck. 

You hummed through your pleasant smile, leaning your head to the side to give him room as his arms snaked around your waist and he swayed you side to side ever so gently. His gentle kisses on your neck felt like heaven and you couldn’t dream of ever leaving his embrace. He smiled gently against your wet skin and rubbed his hands over your stomach lovingly. 

“Let me wash you up.” George whispered. 

You let him pull you over into the stream of the shower, the water still perfectly warm, and you didn’t stray too far from his arms as he reached for the shampoo bottle. The water poured over you both, along your shoulders and down between your bare bodies pressed chest to chest. You couldn’t stop staring at him with your arms around his waist, sharing a smile as he lathered his hands in shampoo and rubbed them into your hair, scratching perfectly over your scalp. His lips pushed onto yours in little gentle kisses as you took the shampoo bottle yourself and slid your own soaped up hands into his brown hair. You shared little smiles between kisses, letting the warm water rinse the suds from your skin and out of your hair and tried not to get soap in your eyes. 

The shower was your haven for the good side of a half hour and when you had washed each other clean of massage oil and plentiful bodily fluids, the feeling of domesticity was thudding in your heart. George turned off the water and grabbed you each a towel from the small bench just outside the shower and you dried off and redressed into your robes. 

For the remainder of the day, you relaxed by the resort pool with bottomless tropical drinks and perfectly hot temperatures. You in your strapless bikini and George in his swim shorts, you laid side by side on the beach chairs and tanned in the afternoon sun, proudly ignorant to the hickeys that littered both of your bodies. No one would give you strange looks anyway; certainly not on Fantasy Island. You were there to live your absolute best life, no matter what that was defined by. It also meant you didn’t get a sunburn no matter how long you laid out in the direct sunlight, returning into the resort hand in hand for dinner with matching perfect tanned glows. 

On Sunday, the final day, you felt as though you were set for life. This was it, wasn’t it? Him and you forever in paradise? The booked flight set for the next day or the entire reason why you needed to get away in the first place seemed to be the last thing on your mind. Making love to George all over the island seemed to have that effect on you and waking up to his sleepy peaceful face just made it all even better. He knew how to touch you to forget all of your stresses and all of your worries.

And the morning hike around the forestry and the hills of the small island certainly kept you distracted too. George thrived like that, wearing only shorts and his sneakers as the guide led you both through the trees and up steep terrain to see all that the island had to offer. It was a beautiful slice of paradise, that was for sure, but your eyes stayed drawn to the man sticking by your side and how his toned muscles were slick in a thin layer of sweat from the heat. He didn’t complain once when you slid your hand into his, even when the path got thin and he had to hold his arm behind him to keep your grip. 

Lunch was had as a picnic on the top of the island with a scenic view of the crystal blue ocean all around. It was truly picturesque and with your legs dangling off the side of the mountain top side by side with George, you were sure there was nothing better. He told you so too as he kissed you sweetly and held you close while you admired the view. 

By the time you returned to the resort, it was time to clean up for dinner. You shared the shower in your room - strictly to wash this time however - and then picked out the nicest clothes you had with you to wear. In a floor length thin summer dress, you felt like an island princess. Your prince wore khaki shorts and a white button up tucked into the waistband and when he came up behind you in the bathroom mirror, he set a thin crown of white tropical flowers over your hair. He wore a matching flower tucked in the pocket of his shirt. 

The sun wasn’t quite set when you reached the restaurant hand in hand and it cast a lovely yellow-orange glow over the island and George’s smiling face as he held the door open for you. You ate at a table for two overlooking the ocean, sharing a bottle of wine and then a dessert after a satisfying meal, and held hands over the table as often as you could. People might have thought you were honeymooners. 

As the sun set, you found yourself walking along the shore together, strolling quietly and admiring the gentle rush of waves on the sand and the warm tones of the evening sky. George’s hand was snug in yours, a place where he seemed to fit so perfectly, although his gaze was focused out over the water. You were staring at him, absorbing the line of his jaw and the volume of his hair and the way you could nearly see the setting sun reflected in his sparkling eyes. 

You fell to a stop, your hand in his urging him to stop too and he turned to face you.

“What is it?” he asked. 

You smiled, welcoming him closer and your hand that wasn’t in his slid up his chest and to the side of his neck, “Nothing. I just wanted to look at you.” 

George didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned in to kiss your lips ever so gently. Once, twice, and a third time that lingered a little longer than the prior two. 

Before he could pull away, you pulled him back in for more, draping your arms around his shoulders and his snaked around your waist. To the sound of the ocean waves, you kissed the sun down, not a soul in sight on the long stretch of empty beach. Your bodies were pressed together as if never wanting to be separated and you shared sweet tongueless kisses on the sand. 

Finally, when George managed to escape your lips, he turned just behind him and you followed his gaze. There was a small set-up that you hadn’t noticed before; a small group of blankets and pillows laid out neatly on the sand under a little white mesh canopy and framed in fairy lights. The small wooden table held a fresh pitcher of water and two glasses each with a slice of lemon on the sides and a plate of fresh fruit. Fantasy Island always delivered when you least expected it.

“How romantic.” you said sweetly, cuddling into his side as his arm draped around your body. 

George looked back at you and dipped down for a few more kisses, raising his hand to your jaw to keep you there a moment longer. When he pulled away, he brushed his nose over yours and whispered, “I think we should go for a swim first.”

“With what bathing suits?” you laughed lightly. 

George only stepped back from you just enough to untuck his shirt from his shorts and started to unbutton it. You watched him silently as he took another step back towards the ocean and then another, finally pulling his shirt from his shoulders and tossed it haphazardly in the direction of the blankets. 

“We don’t need any.” he answered as he walked backwards ever so slowly towards the ocean, his hands unbuckling his belt and then unzipping his pants. He paused just long enough to push them down, right along with his boxers, and your cheeks flushed pink at the sight of him bare in the setting sun and darkening sky. His clothes made a messy pile beside the small table from where he had thrown them and he curled his finger in your direction to get you to follow as he waded backwards into the lapping waves. 

You glanced down the beach, left and right, to make sure there was really no one in sight. It nearly appeared that the island was vacant except for the two of you. Silent, dim, and empty. You pulled your dress over your head before you could second guess, dropped your panties and unclipped your bra, and hurried after him into the water. 

The silent island welcomed the sudden splash of waves as you both waded ungracefully into the water, sharing excited laughter as your arms reached for each other. You grabbed onto his forearms and tried to lean in for a kiss as you both moved deeper into the warm ocean, but George stumbled over his feet and fell backwards, pulling you down into the water with him in a huge splash. 

You broke the surface again and burst into shared laughter, still thrown on top of him in the waving sea. His hand pushed your wet hair from your face and let your laughter melt away on your lips as your eyes met through the moonlight. 

George pulled you in first by the back of your head, kissing you strongly as you were mostly submerged in the salt water. His other hand held himself up on the sandy bottom of the shallow water and your legs stayed tangled with his in the same messy position you had fallen into. Your kisses were messy through your smiles and made a bit wetter by the salt water that splashed around you, but it was nothing less than perfect. 

You set your hand on his chest and pulled back from your kiss just long enough to say, “We should get away from the shore a bit more.” 

George only leaned in to nibble teasingly at your bottom lip before you were shuffling up again and wading deeper into the ocean hand in hand. When the warm water reached your chests, he scooped you right up into his arms by your thighs and moved in for more kisses. Under the water, your legs wrapped around his body with ease and your arms draped around his shoulders to cradle his head in your hands and kept his mouth on yours. The waves, stained in the faintest orange tones from the sun just peeking over the horizon, splashed around the two of you like you were two pieces of a single marble statue, breaking against your bare skin and spraying gentle specks of salt water over your faces and into your hair. 

George felt warm. Despite the humid tropical weather and the just as pleasant ocean you were in, the warmth of his body felt almost refreshing and comforting. He was warm and living and yours. His large hands slid up your back, letting you float in front of him in the water as his hands traced your body and up into the roots of your hair. 

He inhaled into your kiss as if to breathe you in and you felt his chest push against yours before falling again. You tilted your head to the side to kiss him deeper, your damp hair tumbling over one shoulder as your lips locked in slow passionate kisses. George moaned softly into your mouth, just as both of you pushed out your tongues. They met between your kisses and you shared soft laughter at how in sync you were, but didn’t waste a single second that was to be spent embraced in a kiss. 

You shuffled slightly, shifting your legs more comfortably around his waist in the warm salt water and just enough to dip your hips down to graze against his dick. He was still mostly soft but the touch of the curve of your ass had him sighing deeply into your mouth and his dick twitched ever so slightly underwater. You linked your ankles together behind his back and reached a hand down to wrap around his length, lazily stroking with barely your fingertips as your kiss continued above water. 

George’s hand slid from your hair along your neck and right around to your throat where he squeezed gently, urging you to gasp softly into his mouth. His teeth sunk down into your bottom lip and he soothed it with a lick before he moved his kisses down your neck and his hand dropped lower to your bare chest. He greedily cupped your right breast in his hand, groping it snugly as his teeth sunk into the skin of your neck and his tongue swiped up the lingering taste of salt water. 

“George.” you breathed out, letting your head fall back slightly to give him room at your neck. You blindly wrapped your hand around his dick between you, feeling him harden second by second as you stroked him slowly. 

“God, darling,” George groaned softly against your neck and he kissed right up under your ear to make you shiver, “What are you doing to me?”

“Make love to me before the sun goes down.” you requested gently, tilting his head up by his chin to kiss his lips again. 

“Right here?” George chuckled softly between kisses. 

“Mhm.” 

Your thumb swiped over the head of his dick and you traced the slit at the end lazily back and forth as your eyes locked in your close proximity through the rising night. His breath shuttered in his chest and your lips met again in a few lingering kisses as he kneaded your breast for a moment and then slipped his hand under the water. You kissed lazily as you touched each other, gentle fingers rubbing and stroking and finding the familiarity in each other’s bodies once again. 

George moved down your neck, kissing and sucking over your skin as you let your gaze drift back towards the beach. You did a quick scan to make sure there was no one else around, although Fantasy Island was a place that always seemed to anticipate your next moves. The beach was completely vacant. 

By only the light of the sliver of sun and away from the luminescent glow of the resort in the distance, it was hard to see much apart from each other’s faces and certainly nothing under the water. You moved blindly together as George steadied his feet on the sandy ocean floor and you moved to carefully angle yourself right against the tip of his dick. His hands gripped onto your waist and he almost pulled you down on him, smothering your sweet gasp with his lips on yours as you sheathed around him so perfectly. 

“Oh my God, George.” you breathed, rising your hand against his chest quickly when you bottomed out. 

The sea water made for a bit more friction between you as it tended to wash away that natural lubrication but that didn’t matter; it still somehow felt more than incredible. He felt more than incredible. 

George’s low groan was heavenly and you pulled his lips on yours by the back of his neck. You shared a few sloppy kisses before your heels pressed into his bum to urge him deeper and your hips ground down strongly on him. He pulled a hand from the water to grab your breast again, squeezing your flesh to let his mouth dip down to wrap around your nipple as his hips pushed back against yours. 

“Fuck.” you breathed out, your head falling back as your hands gripped tightly to the back of his head and tangled in his wet hair. He sucked on your breast and formed beautiful little love bites over your flesh as his free hand was held around your waist and was grinding you down in time with him. 

The sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, setting the beach into near darkness apart from the rising moonlight and the haze of light from the distant resort. It was quiet and serene and filled you with an indescribable warmth. The waves only got slightly larger as you tried to rock yourself on him, rubbing your bodies together ungracefully in the ocean water. 

“Give me your legs.” George whispered, shifting slightly to hook your knees over his arms and his hands found your waist again. 

You kept yourself steady with your hands on the back of his neck, staring down into the blackness of the water surrounding you as he lifted you up slightly and then eased you back down on his cock. The trembling whimper that fell from your mouth was his praise enough and he repeated the same action slowly, letting his hips push forward to meet you halfway each time. 

“God, my love, you feel so good.” George breathed between you. 

You rested your forehead against his gently, “Don’t ever pull out.” 

He chuckled lightly, “No way, beautiful.” 

Your fingers tugged gently at the hair at the nape of his neck, “Ever.”

“Ever.” George agreed easily, nudging his nose against yours to kiss you properly. 

The moan you let out into his mouth had him fucking you a little faster, bouncing you on his dick the best he could in chest-deep salt water in time with the messy thrusts of his hips. Your tongues met and lips clashed and you shared shallow breaths and pleasant moans together as the waves crashed around you. 

The moon rose over the horizon, pairing beautifully with the star speckled sky that reflected into the dark nighttime ocean you found yourself in. The stars fluttered and danced over the waves that rocked around the two of you and they sparkled in George’s eyes when he looked at you so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. Your lips grazed, sharing feather soft kisses in your distraction, and your fingers scratched lovingly through the back of his hair. 

George slid his hands down to your bum and pulled you down all the way, groaning softly against your lips as he rocked your body against his in strong curling motions. You sighed shakily, focusing on the feeling of his thick cock buried so deep inside you it was nearly heaven but the friction from the water seemed to be a bit of a hindrance of getting you any closer. You clung onto him tightly, trying to get more out of it as you rocked your body against his in time with his thrusts. It felt good but you wanted more. 

George’s lips found yours again and you kissed passionately as he guided your motions with ease in the water. You slid your hand down between you and tugged lazy circles over your clit, whimpering pleadingly into his mouth for more. But he took your hand out of the water and pulled you closer, letting you rut up against his body instead. 

“Use me.” he instructed softly. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck as he fucked you slowly and let you rub against his abs with each thrust. You could only go faster, whimpering against his salty skin as you were nearly humping his body amidst the waves, desperate to edge yourself on and to get closer to that release. George’s hands groped your ass and bounced you faster on his dick, breathing hard against your shoulder and let out a trembling groan as you clenched down around him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he moaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet.” you whined softly. 

“Just trust me.” George said sweetly against your ear. “I’m not going to forget about you, okay? Trust me.”

You only nodded, pulling his lips back on yours for more kisses. George was nearly using you, grinding up into you in steady strokes that had him groaning into your mouth in time. The water splashed around you more as he sped up, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he gripped your ass tighter and pushed on harder. 

“Fuck.” George said through his teeth, his dick throbbing inside you. 

You were so focused on it and his lips that you barely noticed him starting to move until your chest emerged from the warm water. He was walking you back towards shore, still trying to fuck you through each step with his hands on your bum and his hips pushing desperately into yours. Once he reached calf deep water, he eased you down onto your back against the wet sand, keeping your legs hooked over his arms to leave you spread as he stayed nice and deep inside you. 

“Okay?” he asked breathlessly.

You nodded him on, holding onto his biceps as he started to thrust into you again, taking you on the beach as the shallow water rushed around you in steady waves. His moans were beautiful, his forehead resting against yours as his hips did all the work, causing splashes of water and slick smacking of skin on skin to rise across the silent beach. 

“Shit, baby.” you cried out softly, digging your nails into his arms. “Don’t stop.” 

George let his eyes find yours, keeping your strong eye contact as he fucked you quickly on the tropical shore under a blanket of stars. The sand didn’t stick to you and in fact it didn’t feel itchy at all. Fantasy Island was full of perfected versions of things and the white sand beaches that cradled your body in the tide was no different. George dipped down to kiss you a few times through his quick thrusts but pulled back to breathe, licking his lips as he stared down at you. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” he warned softly, his voice wavering, “I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yeah. Please.” you whimpered, welcoming his body on yours as he shifted down to his forearms on the sand on either side of your head. “Oh my God, George, come inside me. Please.” 

“Yeah-” he groaned, going faster and faster and faster until his jagged breaths were falling still and his eyes were nearly rolling back in his head. “F-Fuck me-”

Your hands dropped to his waist and you tugged his body towards you so he was inside you as deep as he could possibly go, your mouth falling open as he shot thick spurts of cum right into you. It wasn’t the first time but it certainly felt just as good as ever, your own pleasant moans tumbling from your lips as he claimed you through shaky groans and little grunts, rolling his body into yours to really finish himself off. 

“Oh, God, baby.” George whimpered. 

He leaned down to kiss you right away, capturing your bottom lip between his two for a few strong kisses before he was moving down your neck. The tide splashed shallowly around your bare body as George pulled out of you and easily slid down your body with hungry kisses to land between your legs. He nudged them open a bit farther and watched as the water splashed up against your thighs and the curve of your ass and the moonlight glinted off the thick white cream that trickled out of your cunt. George licked his lips and dived right in, showering you in kisses over your folds before he was licking up the reminisce of his love making. 

Your hands found his hair to hold his face between your legs as he worked to finish you off next, the initial sensations already being enough to let your head drop back against the wet sand beneath you with a soft moan. His lips found your clit and he gave perfect attention to your most sensitive spot, shooting blissful ecstasy down your limbs as he kissed over it before sucking softly through his own pleasant moans. 

“Fuck, George.” you breathed his name to the tropical night sky.

The island felt as though it was echoing your moans and his hungry slurps and wet kisses across the water and through the trees, the emptiness of the land around you made the place feel like your very own private oasis. His tongue on your clit dampened you more after the ocean had tried to leave you clean and he took his opportunity to slick his fingers in your arousal and the sticky mess of cum he claimed you in, and pushed two digits inside you. 

Your trembling “oh” fell from your lips shakily, your breath shuttering in your chest as he pumped them into you steadily and his tongue swirled lazily over your clit. 

George’s eyes raised to yours as he fingered you tenderly and tasted the salt water on your warm skin behind the sweet flavour of your body. He was a beautiful sight between your legs, bare like the essence of man and stained in sea water that splashed up around him in small choppy waves and circled your body in the aftermath. You were one. He was yours. He was all yours in the light of the moon and the glow from the small camping set up left a few metres up the beach. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, George-“ you sobbed out, trying to keep your legs back from encircling his head. “Faster.”

He followed your orders, fingering his cum back into you in quick thrusts before he was shoving his fingers deep and flicking them eagerly against your slick walls. His tongue picked up too, rubbing quickly over your clit until you were nearly soaked in spit as much as ocean water. 

“Yeah.” you whimpered, only growing in volume as he kept up, “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah, baby, yeah, baby- please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!” 

George nuzzled his face deeper into your cunt, devouring you until you were seeing stars in more than just the night sky above you. Your moans were turning insistent and loud and you tugged at his hair harder, trying to rub up against his face. 

“Oh my-“ your voice fell quiet as that warm tightness in your lower stomach was starting to burst. Your muscles clenched down hard around his fingers and George kept his pace going until your back was arching off the sand and shallow water with an ever so quiet whimper, “Oh, s-sir-“ 

If he hadn’t already came, that title certainly would have finished him off and he moaned loudly against your body as you writhed underneath him and soaked his fingers in your liquids. Your whimpering carried across the waves and the sand and he lapped up every drop until you were pushing his head away with over sensitivity. George kissed your hip and then shuffled up over top of you to kiss your lips. Your arms draped around his shoulders and you tasted yourself on his tongue along with the salt water that was left behind from the ocean. 

“You’re perfect.” George whispered between slow kisses. “You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart.” 

You took his face in your hands and caressed his cheeks, staring up into his blue eyes that sparkled with the fairy lights up the beach and you told him an honest, “I love you.” 

George smiled and dipped down to kiss you once more, “I love you more.”

A slight chill brushed over you and you shivered in the open air, pulling George closer. 

“Are you cold, baby?” he asked gently against your ear, petting his hand over your head.  

“Just a bit.” you shrugged, rubbing your hands up his bare back. 

“Come on.” George shifted off your body and helped you to your feet with his hands in yours. 

You hurried back up the beach together in your nakedness, trying to cover yourself up the best you could in fear someone was to stumble upon you. But the beach was empty and you were perfectly alone, giving you all the space you needed to settle on the soft pile of blankets and pillows together to dry off. The sand never stuck to your wet skin which was incredible and you patted yourself dry before shuffling into your dress again, leaving your bra and panties to the side. George pulled on his shorts once he had dried off and then joined you under the small canopy of lights. 

Out of the water, the tropical air felt much warmer once again and even without the sun, it was pleasant and comfortable. George arranged the pillows a little to lean back on and he gently pulled you down with him to cuddle up at his side, his arm around your shoulders. His bare torso was claimed by your hand, fingers dancing over his abs and along his pecs. 

George watched you stare at him, his fingers tangling in the ends of your damp hair lazily, and he breathed steadily and peacefully in the tropical night. He leaned down slightly to kiss the top of your head and when you looked up at his face and pushed another kiss to his waiting lips, it sort of sunk in that it was your last night on the island. You frowned to yourself and snuggled closer to him, resting your head on his chest as your arm hugged his body close. 

“I love you.” you whispered. 

“I love you, my beautiful, stunning, incredibly gorgeous woman.” George replied sweetly, rubbing his hand up your arm that was around his middle. He kissed your head again. 

“Georgie.” you breathed. 

He hummed in reply, letting you continue. 

“I don’t want to go home tomorrow. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

“Don’t think about that right now.” George tisked, stroking your hair away from your face. “We still have all night.” 

“I can’t help it.” you mumbled. 

He moved his arm as you shifted up to look down at him laying beside you and he draped it under his head, staring worriedly back at you from your obvious uncertainty. Your heart had that familiar ache back, that same ache that you came to the island to cure in the first place. The fact that it was still there made you even more upset and you looked away from him and across the beach with a shaky inhale. 

George spoke your name softly, reaching up to gently turn your head back towards him by a finger under your chin, “Talk to me then, sweetheart.”

“I want to live forever with you.” you spoke as strongly as you could, letting your thoughts fall into the night air, “I want to marry you and have babies with you and live life with you.”

“God, my love, I want that too. So badly.” George whispered, caressing your face in his hand and he swiped his thumb over your cheek. “We’d have such pretty kids too, don’t you think?”

Your bottom lip trembled and you scrunched your eyes closed with a bow of your head to keep him from seeing your emotion.

George tisked sadly and sat up a little, lifting your head in his hands so you were looking at him and his thumbs brushed the few stray tear drops from your cheeks, “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“I’ve been waiting so long for this...to tell you that I am in love with you...that you are my other half and all my perfect dreams rolled into one stunning man…” you set your hand against his bare chest with a shaky sigh. 

“Baby, I’m not perfect.” George chuckled gently. 

“To me you are.” you whispered. 

He leaned up to kiss your lips softly, ever so gently, sharing a few small chasté kisses as his hand looped around the back of your neck. When you pulled back from his lips, you rested your forehead against his and you both sighed softly in unison. 

“My heart beats for you.” you breathed, taking his free hand from the blankets to rest against your chest over your thin dress. 

George smiled softly at the feeling of your strong heartbeat under his hand and he wrapped his arm farther around your shoulders for a closer hug. You nuzzled your face into his neck and with the hand that wasn’t holding yourself up on the ground, tucked it around his back. 

“I don’t want you to go either.” George finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the rush of the waves crashing upon the shore nearby. 

You held him tighter as if never wanting to let him go, shifting to hold him with both arms and you let out another sob into his shoulder. His hands rubbed up and down your back and he shushed you lovingly, holding you as you cried. You didn’t care who heard you, letting your sorrow echo down the empty beach and over the dark ocean to the ends of the island. 

George’s bare skin was warm and addicting and you held him close as if savouring each inch of his body for any future reference. Your tears dripped onto his shoulder and your sobs muffled into his neck, shameless crying out your emotions to the person you wanted more than life itself. 

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart.” George whispered, his voice wavering. 

“Don’t let me go, Georgie.” you begged. 

“Darling.” George sighed, holding you tighter. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m right here.” 

“Are you real?” you asked softly, repeating the very first question you asked him when you walked in on him sitting on that cloud-like king size bed. You sat back on your knees and took his face in your hands as if to analyze him, from the line of his jaw to the tears shimmering in his blue eyes. “Are you really you?”

“Yeah, baby.” George whispered. “But...tomorrow...when you get on that plane...I’ll be back in Monaco and I won’t have any memory of this. At all. I will wake up at home and think that I was just in the city the whole weekend with memories they gave me to fill in the gaps.”

You sniffled as he took your hands from his face and kissed your knuckles one by one as you breathed out a shaky, “You won’t remember me?”

He shook his head. 

“You won’t remember this island or making love all afternoon and all night?”

George left your hands with one more kiss as he smiled sadly and raised his eyes up to yours, “None of it.” 

Your nose scrunched up in near agony and you couldn’t help but press a hand to your heart as if to try and dull the pain. You rested your forehead against his and he held your one hand in both of his as if he never was going to let you go. You had twelve hours left together but it didn’t feel like enough. Time was slipping by like sand in an hourglass. 

“Listen,” George leaned back from you to meet your teary gaze, “let’s have some water and just...cuddle quietly for a bit. It’s beautiful out here.”

You nodded weakly and wiped your eyes with the heel of your palm as he shuffled down the blankets towards the small wooden table. He lifted the water pitcher, only to reveal a small pot of ink topped with a thin silver sewing needle. You moved to sit properly on the blankets as George grabbed the two newly appeared items from the table and stared at them for a moment. He looked over at you. 

“What is that?” you asked quietly. 

You could nearly see his brain turning with thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed in the cutest little expression as he pieced together the two small items in his hands. Finally, he disregarded the water and he hurried to sit at your side once more. 

“Photographs and notes don’t work.” George explained quietly as if someone on the empty beach would be listening into your conversation, “They both will go blank the second you leave the island, right?”

“Right.” you listened quietly. 

“But they can’t erase something that is permanently part of someone.”

“I dunno...they made lingerie randomly appear on me.” you mumbled. 

George laughed lightly and shifted to sit crossed legged, “Clothes aren’t permanent.” 

“What are you doing?” you asked cautiously.  

George set the end of the needle between his lips so he could unscrew the cap of the ink bottle. He carefully took the needle in his fingers once more and then held it in the flame of the candle to disinfect it, “I’m going to tattoo your name on my body so I can force myself to remember you.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes through the warm faded light of the fairy lights surrounding you, “What? Are you sure that’s gonna work?”

“Worth a shot.” he shrugged. He dipped the sharp point of the needle into the black ink. 

“What if it doesn’t?” you mumbled, watching carefully as he shifted across from you and pulled his right foot onto his opposite thigh over crossed legs. 

George glanced back up at you with an honest smile, “Then you better be damn good at convincing me.” 

“George…” you started but he already pressed the tip of the sewing needle into the skin of his ankle. Your eyes widened as you fell into silence and he spelt the first letter of your name with a steady hand and a few dips of ink. 

It was honestly as romantic as it was slightly stupid. The lines were a little wobbly and his cheeks were flushed pink as his teeth bit hard into his bottom lip through the sharp pain of the stick and poke tattoo he was giving himself. 

“When you get on the plane tomorrow-” George hissed softly as the needle poked a nerve but he carried on, “you’re going to ask the pilot to take you to the airport in Nice.”

“George...I dunno…”

“Hey,” he looked up at you seriously, “don’t George me, okay? Do you want me? Did you mean that? That you’re in love with me and you want me for life?”

“Of course.” you answered easily. 

“Good because it’s too late now...I already have half your name inked into the side of my foot.” George said, wiping the excess ink and bit of blood off his lower ankle with the edge of one of the blankets you were sitting on. Two full letters were pressed ungracefully into his skin. 

You smiled softly at him and he returned it as both of you leaned in for a few gentle kisses. He told you he loved you in a whisper as quiet as the tropical breeze ruffling through the starry night and you said the same, kissing him once more before he focused back on his task at hand. 

“When you get to Monaco…” George continued as he worked, his words a little strained at the pain he was injecting into his body, “you’re going to find the café that’s directly across from the Casino…I go there every morning for breakfast. Got that?”

You nodded. 

“You’re going to wait for me there.”

“What if I miss you?”

“Find a hotel and try again the next morning.” 

“What if she’s with you?”

There was a pause and George glanced up at you before dropping his head back down quickly to his ankle, “She won’t be.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t want to think about her right now, sweetheart.” George protested gently yet firmly, “Especially not when I have you here.” 

“What if you won’t leave her for me? What if you don’t remember and this doesn’t work and you won’t believe me when I try to convince you-”

George reached out for you quickly, “Baby, baby, baby, baby, stop.”

You took a shaky inhale, “Georgie, I can’t go through that rejection to my face. Through a screen kills me enough, I…I can’t.”

“Stop. Listen to me, okay? Listen.” George held the needle carefully in his right hand and slid his left up to hold the side of your face. “You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I feel such a connection with. You’re the only one I’ve fucked unprotected.”

The both of you shared soft chuckles. 

He spoke strongly, “You are mine.” 

“But are you mine?” you tried. 

“Yes.” George said straightly. “I’m yours. My heart is yours.”

You nodded and he sent you a tight smile before turning back to the ink pot and his stained skin. The ocean breeze ruffled through his messy brown hair and you took that quiet moment to admire him in the light from the string of lights that twisted together above your heads. 

You spoke without thinking, “I want this to work.” 

“I know. Me too.”

“I want this to work so badly I might cry.” 

George glanced up at you and your nervous expression and he smiled sweetly, “No more crying, darling, look.” 

You followed his gaze back down to his ankle that presented the uneven inked lines spelling your first name across his skin. He wiped it clean with the edge of the blanket and raised his foot up as he doubled over to blow a soft puff of air over it, nearly falling over in the process. 

“You’re a part of me now.” he whispered, his gentle voice carried by the tropical breeze. 

“I love you.” you breathed. “You’re insane.”

He raised his eyes from the fresh tattoo to your face and he leaned in to kiss you softly, “I love you too.”

You spent the night on the beach, cuddled up in the set up island of blankets and pillows on the sand. You slept in each other’s arms until the fairy lights burnt out and the moon set and tide turned and you woke up to a beautiful sunrise. You didn’t question how the sun could both rise and set over the same horizon since on Fantasy Island even the craziest things seemed to be made into reality. If only it was at all easy. 

George let your head rest on his chest as the sun came up, his hand twirling through the ends of your hair as he laid back on the pillows and you laid with him. As the day rose and the chirp of animals and birds filled the beach, you let your eyes close once more to focus all your senses on the man in your arms. You inhaled him strongly, savouring his soft natural scent with the ever slight lingerance of his evening cologne and the remanence of salt water. 

He kissed you good morning, letting you taste his lips and his tongue as much as you wanted between slow sensual kisses as his hands gripped your body closer. You kissed the sun awake until it was well above the horizon and it was time to return to your room. 

Step by slow step back to the resort was painful and you held George’s hand tightly the whole way. He had pulled his shirt back on from the night before and it hung open off his shoulders, still giving you a perfect view of his abs that you teasingly ran your finger across as he unlocked your hotel room door. 

Your suitcase was already packed and waiting by the door when you stepped inside and you took one last look at the room in which you met. George’s arm slid around your waist and he kissed your neck from behind, swaying you slightly in place and you both seemed to stare dreamily at the king size bed as if it were calling you back. The sheets were pulled tight, unslept in, since you spent the night on the beach and they were taunting you to come ruin them. 

As if to interrupt your forming ideas, the host of the island appeared in the doorway and greeted you politely to usher you to the plane. George took your hand and you grabbed your suitcase in your other and you trailed behind her as she led the way to the dock. When she wasn’t looking, too busy greeting the pilot, George lifted his right foot up slightly to show off the small black ink tattoo of your name still on his ankle. You smiled at him and he raised your joint hands to his mouth to kiss yours sweetly. 

The pilot took your bag for you to load into the plane and you were permitted a moment to say your goodbyes. 

You turned to George and both of your hands fell into each other’s, your eyes meeting in the bright sunlight that warmed the island like the very same day you arrived there. He smiled at you, his expression obviously hesitant, and you mirrored his attempt at a grin back. 

“I love you.” you whispered, taking your hands from his to wrap around his shoulders. 

George let out a sigh and snaked his arms snugly around your waist, “I love you too. So much. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded and slowly slid back from his embrace, pausing just long enough to share a kiss. Or three. You rested your foreheads together with soft sighs and your eyes closed for just a moment as if to savour your last few seconds together. It could very well be your last time. 

“I’ll wait for you.” you breathed. 

George nodded and brushed your noses together, “Okay.”

You dusted your lips over his and you both opened up ever so slightly and ever so slowly for one last kiss. You felt the warmth running through you, shooting near electricity down your spine until your lips broke apart with a soft smack. With a gentle lick, you tried to memorize the taste of each other for one last second before you were being ushered down the dock. 

George stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts and stood with the host as you boarded the biplane and found your seat. The pilot closed the door and buckled up and started the engine. The propellers whirled to life and he glanced back at you, 

“Where are we headed, ma’am?”

You looked out the window of the plane, catching a last glimpse of George who stood on the end of the dock with the host. The wind from the plane propellers ruffled his hair and his eyes squinted in the bright sunlight but he smiled and raised his hand in a last wave as the plane pulled off across the water. 

“Nice, France.” 

You sat in the corner of the coffee shop, suitcase at your side, and gaze unwavering from the glass entry doors across the brown trimmed café. There was no food or beverage in front of you since you were far less than hungry; your stomach churned with anxieties from landing in a strange city for the farthest stretch of a chance you could take. It all felt ridiculous. You felt foolish. None of this had to be real. 

Finally, through the front windows, you saw a white convertible Mercedes pull into the parking lot and instantly your heart was in your throat. From the distance, you could just make out the figure of the man as he parked the car, donning sunglasses and a soft styled mess of brown hair, and your stomach erupted in butterflies. He looked just as perfect as he had on the island but the scattering of hickeys down his neck were missing and the sunkissed tan was more faded as if he had never been there. Your eyes followed him as he hurried across the parking lot and into the shop where you sat. He was alone. 

He didn’t notice you - you were now a stranger after all - and you let yourself have a moment in the background to admire him. He wore another white button up tucked into creased slacks, looking so effortlessly stylish. The designer watch was a given and the near noon-day sunlight glinted off the silver fastenings as he approached the counter. 

You were too far away to hear him order but you made out some sort of breakfast sandwich and a drink amidst the café radio music playing through the speakers and the chatter that surrounded the small sitting area. When he pulled out his credit card and waited for the machine to prompt his payment, he haphazardly bent down slightly, raised his right foot, and scratched at his ankle with a confused scowl. A blur of black was caught by your eye before it disappeared under his pant leg again as he sighed and stood up straighter once more, raking his fingers through his hair in near tired confusion. 

You stood before you could second guess, taking a hesitant step towards him as he tucked his card back in his wallet. He didn’t notice you. No one else did either. 

“George.” 

Your own voice startled you, especially with how wavering and unsure it was...how nervous you sounded. It would be easy to pass as an adoring teenager like that. 

His eyes raised to yours at the call of his name and his gaze alone sent those perfect shivers down your body. He seemed to give you a once over as you took another step closer as if he was trying to place where he had seen you before. 

“George...I…” you struggled to find the words, as if the long plane ride had not been filled with you making up scripts in your mind as to what you would say to him in this moment. His confused expression made you nervous and you could feel the tears of disappointment and frustration already brimming in your eyes. You could only gesture haphazardly to his right pant leg before you were at a loss for words. 

He slid his wallet into his pocket, face full of confusion, and followed your quick gesture to his right ankle. The random appearance of that messy blank ink tattoo had startled him that morning and he looked back up at you slowly, eyebrows furrowed gently in the middle as to how you knew it was there. This stranger in a coffee shop. 

He breathed your name in the form of a question; the same name that had been inked into his skin at a time he didn’t remember. The blessing of your name from his lips felt like the warmth of that familiar tropical breeze and the memories of your fantasy weekend together seemed to flick like pages of a storybook between you. 

You could nearly see his features soften with his realization and you let a gentle smile tug at your lips, your voice a breath of relief, “George.”

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oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

#ExposeFIA

Max Verstappen x forensic accountant!Reader

Summary: when the FIA keeps targeting your boyfriend, you decide to do something about it by digging into their financials and learning what skeletons they have hidden in the closet … nothing could have prepared you for what you unearth or the domino effect that follows

Warnings: corruption, kidnapping, violence, and murder

Based on this request

Max slams the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the hotel room. His jaw is tight, his hands balled into fists as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the back of the couch. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor with your laptop open, spreadsheets and case files scattered around you.

At first, you don’t look up — this is just Max being Max after a bad day — but then you hear him muttering in Dutch, sharp and venomous under his breath.

“What now?” You ask, closing the laptop with a quiet sigh.

Max rakes a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “The FIA fined me again.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “For what?”

“For cursing!” His voice rises, and he gestures wildly, his frustration spilling out like a dam breaking. “In the press conference. They called it inappropriate. Inappropriate! It wasn’t even that bad — just one word!”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh, but he catches it.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” He stops pacing, leveling you with an incredulous look.

“Max,” you say slowly, rising to your feet, “you do curse like a sailor in every other sentence.”

“Not every other sentence,” he protests, crossing his arms.

You arch a brow.

“Okay, fine. But that’s not the point!” He starts pacing again. “They only do this to me! I swear, it’s like they’re waiting for me to screw up so they can slap me with another fine.”

You fold your arms, leaning against the couch. “How much this time?”

“Fifty thousand euros,” he says bitterly, kicking the edge of the rug.

“Fifty thousand?” Your jaw drops. “For cursing?”

“Exactly! It’s ridiculous!” Max looks at you, his blue eyes blazing with anger and just a hint of something more vulnerable underneath. “Lando swears all the time, and no one says anything to him. This is personal, I know it is.”

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Because, honestly, he’s not wrong.

Max keeps going, his words tumbling out in a rush. “They’ve been on my case all season. The penalties, the warnings — it’s like they can’t stand the thought of me winning again. They want to knock me down, and they don’t care how they do it.”

You let out a long breath, watching him as he paces. He’s like a storm contained in human form, all fire and fury and relentless energy.

“They can’t keep getting away with this,” you say finally, your voice low but firm.

Max pauses mid-step, turning to face you. “What am I supposed to do? Complain? They’ll just call me a sore loser and fine me for that too.”

“No, not you,” you say, a sly smile creeping onto your face. “Me.”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the FIA,” you say, your mind already racing. “You said it yourself — they’re out to get you. So, let’s find out why.”

Max blinks, caught off guard. “You want to investigate them?”

“I’m a forensic accountant,” you remind him. “Digging into shady organizations is literally my job. If there’s something fishy going on with their finances, I’ll find it.”

“And then what?” He asks, skeptical but intrigued.

“And then we use it against them,” you say simply.

He stares at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You’re serious about this.”

“Dead serious.”

Max exhales, running a hand through his hair again. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s not your fight.”

“Of course, it’s my fight,” you say, stepping closer. “They’re targeting you. And that means they’re targeting me.”

His gaze softens, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eases. “You’re crazy,” he says, but there’s a trace of affection in his voice.

“Crazy for you,” you shoot back, grabbing your laptop and plopping down on the couch.

He groans. “That was awful.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me.”

Max flops onto the couch beside you, resting his head against the back of it. “What are you even looking for?”

“Anything that doesn’t add up,” you say, your fingers flying across the keyboard. “Expenses that don’t make sense, hidden accounts, payments to people who shouldn’t be getting paid. Everyone leaves a paper trail. Even the FIA.”

He watches you in silence for a moment, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “You really think they’re dirty?”

“I think it’s worth finding out,” you say. “Worst case, I waste a few hours and we’re no worse off. Best case …”

“Best case?” He prompts.

“Best case, we blow this whole thing wide open,” you say, grinning.

Max leans back, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Compliments won’t get you out of trouble, Verstappen,” you say without looking up.

He smirks. “Didn’t say I was trying.”

For a while, the only sound in the room is the soft clatter of your keyboard and the occasional frustrated sigh from Max as he scrolls through his phone.

“What if they come after you?” He asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glance at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “Why would they?”

“Because they’re the FIA,” he says bluntly. “They don’t play fair. If they find out you’re digging into their finances, they’ll find a way to shut you up.”

You pause, considering his words. “Let them try,” you say finally. “I’m not scared of a bunch of bureaucrats.”

Max looks at you like he wants to argue, but then he just shakes his head and mutters something in Dutch.

“What was that?” You ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” he says quickly.

“Max.”

“I said you’re stubborn,” he admits, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

“Takes one to know one,” you shoot back, your eyes already back on your screen.

He laughs, the sound low and warm and surprisingly light given the circumstances. For the first time all evening, he looks like the weight of the world isn’t pressing down on his shoulders.

“You really think you can take them on?” He asks after a while.

You glance up, meeting his gaze. “I know I can.”

Max leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then do it,” he says, his voice steady and resolute. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

You smile, a little spark of determination igniting in your chest. “Damn right it is.”

For the next hour, you work in companionable silence, Max occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment or a half-hearted complaint about how long this might take. But underneath it all, there’s a quiet sense of solidarity, a shared purpose that feels unshakable.

By the time you close your laptop for the night, you’ve barely scratched the surface of what you’re looking for. But you’ve got a starting point, and that’s enough.

“You coming to bed?” Max asks, standing and stretching.

“In a minute,” you say, glancing at your notes.

He hesitates, then leans down to kiss the top of your head. “Don’t stay up too late, detective.”

You smile, your fingers already back on the keyboard. “Goodnight, Verstappen.”

As he disappears down the hall, you feel a surge of determination. If the FIA thinks they can push Max around, they’ve got another thing coming. Because they’re not just dealing with him anymore. They’re dealing with you.

***

The apartment is dark and silent, the kind of stillness that only comes in the dead of night. Max is fast asleep, his breaths soft and steady, the rise and fall of his chest a calming rhythm. You’re lying beside him under the covers, your laptop propped on your knees, the faint glow from the screen illuminating your face.

You should have gone to sleep hours ago. You told yourself you’d close the laptop after one more file — just one more. But then there was another, and another, and now it’s nearly 4 AM, and you’re running on pure caffeine and spite.

Max shifts in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent in Dutch. You glance at him, your heart softening for a moment. He looks so peaceful, so unaware of the storm you’re wading through just inches away from him.

“Soon,” you whisper, your fingers flying over the keyboard. “Just a little longer.”

You’ve been combing through every financial record you can find, hacking into databases and piecing together spreadsheets like a forensic puzzle. And then, finally, you see it — a string of payments that makes your stomach turn.

The account is buried deep, hidden behind layers of shell companies and off-the-books transfers. But the numbers don’t lie. Over the past three years, millions of euros have been funneled out of the FIA’s discretionary budget and into a series of private accounts.

At first, it’s just suspicious. Then it’s horrifying.

You zoom in on the details, your pulse racing. The money trails lead to names — government officials in multiple countries, shady contractors with histories of fraud, and even one account linked to a known arms dealer.

“What the hell …” you mutter, your hands trembling slightly as you open another file.

It gets worse.

The payments aren’t just bribes or kickbacks. They’re tied to contracts for military-grade surveillance technology and riot control equipment. The kind of things no racing organization should have any business buying.

“Why would the FIA need …” Your voice trails off, your thoughts spiraling.

And then it hits you. They don’t need it. Someone within the FIA is using their funds as a cover to funnel resources for something darker — something illegal.

You feel a chill creep up your spine as you uncover more details. The timing of the payments coincides with major FIA controversies, including rulings that massively benefited certain teams or drivers. It’s almost as if the penalties and decisions were distractions, designed to shift the focus away from what was really happening behind the scenes.

Your throat tightens. This isn’t just corruption. This is criminal conspiracy on an international scale.

You close the file and lean back against the headboard, staring at the screen in disbelief. Your mind is racing, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together faster than you can process them.

The FIA isn’t just targeting Max. They’re using their position as a global governing body to launder money and traffic illegal goods. And if you’re right, they’ve been doing it for years.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, your heart pounding.

Beside you, Max stirs, his hand brushing against your arm. “What time is it?” He mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Uh …” You glance at the clock. “Four thirty.”

His eyes crack open, and he frowns. “You’re still awake?”

You hesitate, your mind still reeling. “I found something.”

He rubs his face, sitting up slightly. “What kind of something?”

You turn the laptop toward him, your hands shaking as you scroll through the files. “Look at this. These payments — they’re using FIA accounts to fund illegal activities. Weapons, surveillance tech, bribes. It’s all here.”

Max blinks, trying to wake himself up. “Wait — what? The FIA is buying weapons?”

“Not for themselves,” you explain, your voice trembling. “They’re covering for someone else. Someone higher up, maybe even multiple people. It’s a money-laundering operation disguised as legitimate spending. And the worst part?” You click on another document. “They’re timing these payments to coincide with penalties and controversies. Like yours.”

He stares at the screen, his jaw tightening. “They’re creating distractions.”

“Exactly.” You meet his gaze, your chest tight with anger. “They’re using you — using all of you — to keep people from noticing what’s really going on.”

Max is silent for a moment, his expression darkening. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s real,” you say firmly. “I’ve traced the accounts. I’ve seen the contracts. It’s all there.”

He exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “This is insane. How are they getting away with this?”

“Because no one’s looking,” you say bitterly. “They’ve built a system where no one questions their authority. They hand out fines, penalties, rulings — it’s all smoke and mirrors.”

Max shakes his head, his anger simmering just below the surface. “So what do we do?”

“We expose them,” you say without hesitation. “We take this to the press, to the authorities — whoever will listen. We make sure everyone knows what they’ve been doing.”

He looks at you, his eyes blazing with determination. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” you say, your voice steady. “They’ve messed with you for the last time, Max. I’m not letting them get away with this.”

Max leans back against the headboard, his expression unreadable. “You know this won’t be easy. They’ll come after you.”

“Let them,” you say fiercely. “They’re not invincible, Max. They think they are, but they’re not. And now we have the proof.”

He reaches for your hand, his grip firm and grounding. “We do this together, okay?”

You nod, your resolve hardening. “Together.”

For the first time in hours, you close the laptop. The fight isn’t over — not even close. But for now, you have what you need.

The FIA has no idea what’s coming for them.

***

The findings sit like a live grenade between you and Max for weeks. Every time you try to talk about it, the conversation spirals into an argument that feels more like a desperate plea than a disagreement.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table one morning, coffee in hand, staring at the spreadsheet open on your laptop. Max leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you like you’re about to pull the pin and toss the grenade straight into his life.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s trying not to spook you. “You can’t post this. It’s too dangerous.”

You glance up, meeting his intense blue eyes. “Max, we’ve been over this. Dangerous for who? The FIA? Because it sure as hell isn’t safe for anyone else if they keep getting away with this.”

He shakes his head, frustration etched into his features. “No. Dangerous for you.”

You sigh, shutting the laptop and leaning back in your chair. “And we’ve been over this too. If it’s tied to me, and they come after me, it only makes them look worse. They’d be shooting themselves in the foot.”

Max pushes off the counter, pacing across the small kitchen. “You think they care about how it looks? These people are untouchable. They’ve been untouchable for decades. What if they don’t care about subtlety? What if they decide to make an example out of you?”

“Then they’ll prove my point,” you counter, setting your mug down harder than you meant to. “Max, they’re laundering money. Funding illegal operations. Covering up fraud. This isn’t just about you or me anymore. This is about them and what they’re doing to-”

“To you,” he cuts in, spinning to face you. “This is about you, schatje. You think I can just sit back and watch them destroy your life? Watch them drag you through the mud — or worse?” His voice cracks on the last word, and it stops you in your tracks.

“Max …”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can take the fines. The penalties. Whatever bullshit they throw at me, I don’t care. But I can’t …” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I can’t lose you over this.”

The words hang heavy in the air. For a moment, you don’t know what to say.

You stand, crossing the room to him. “Max.” You reach for his hands, pulling them away from where they’re clenched at his sides. He looks up at you, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with a storm of worry and frustration.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you say softly. “But you can’t ask me to do nothing. Not when I have this.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hands tightening. “There has to be another way. Something that doesn’t put you in the crosshairs.”

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “The longer we wait, the more time they have to cover their tracks. This needs to come from me. Not you, not a journalist. Me.”

Max pulls his hands away, pacing again. “Why does it have to be you? Why not anonymously? Why not through someone else?”

“Because,” you say, your voice rising just enough to make him stop and look at you, “if it’s anonymous, it’s easier for them to discredit. If it’s me — someone with a background in forensic accounting, someone who has proof — it’s harder for them to bury.”

He stares at you, his jaw working, his frustration palpable. “You’re playing with fire.”

“And you’re worth it,” you shoot back, your words cutting through his anger like a blade.

Max looks at you, his expression crumbling. “This isn’t just about me anymore. It’s bigger than that now.”

“I know,” you say, stepping closer to him. “That’s why I have to do this.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then Max sighs, his shoulders slumping. “If you do this … if you put this out there …” He trails off, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know the risks,” you say, reaching up to cup his cheek. “But we can’t let them keep doing this. If I don’t say something, who will?”

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “I hate this.”

“I know,” you whisper.

The next few days are a blur of preparation. You draft the post, meticulously double-checking every link, every piece of evidence. Max hovers in the background, equal parts supportive and terrified, his tension radiating through the apartment.

Finally, the day comes. You’re sitting at your desk, your phone in your hand, the post ready to go. Max stands behind you, silent but solid, his presence grounding you.

“You sure about this?” He asks, his voice low.

You nod, your finger hovering over the “post” button. “It’s time.”

He exhales, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Then do it.”

With a deep breath, you hit the button.

The tweet goes live:

The FIA has been hiding more than bad calls and unfair penalties. They’ve been laundering money and funding illegal operations for years. Here’s the proof #ExposeFIA

The moment it’s posted, your phone buzzes with notifications, the retweets and replies piling up faster than you can process.

You lean back in your chair, your heart racing as the reality of what you’ve done sinks in. Max squeezes your shoulders, his grip firm and reassuring.

“It’s out there now,” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

“Yeah,” Max says, his voice steady. “And they’ll never see it coming.”

***

The world ignites within hours of your tweet.

Your phone buzzes nonstop, the notifications climbing into the thousands. News outlets pick up the story almost immediately. By mid-morning, your name is trending worldwide, alongside “#ExposeFIA” and a slew of related hashtags.

Every major publication, from The Guardian to The New York Times, runs with the story. Formula 1 Twitter is a battlefield, with fans, journalists, and even ex-drivers weighing in. Some praise you as a whistleblower, others call you reckless, but everyone is talking.

Max, watching it all unfold from the sofa, looks like he’s about to break the remote he’s gripping too tightly. “This is madness,” he mutters, shaking his head as he scrolls through his phone.

“Madness is putting it lightly,” you say, typing out a message to your lawyer, who’s already fielding calls from investigative agencies and reporters.

By noon, the FIA releases a statement calling your accusations “unfounded” and “a gross misunderstanding of internal operations.” They promise transparency, cooperation with audits, and a full investigation. It’s almost laughable how carefully worded it is, especially given how many people have already found red flags in the documents you posted.

“They’re scrambling,” Max says, glancing over at you.

“Good,” you reply, leaning back in your chair. “They should be.”

By the evening, things escalate even further. International agencies — Interpol, Europol, and financial crime units from multiple countries — announce that they’ve opened formal investigations into the FIA’s financial practices. Max reads the headline aloud from his phone, his tone a mix of shock and vindication.

“‘Interpol launches probe into FIA money-laundering allegations.’” He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve set the whole world on fire, haven’t you?”

You shrug, though your heart pounds in your chest. “Someone had to.”

But the sense of triumph doesn’t last long. By the next morning, the darker side of the storm begins to roll in.

Your email inbox floods with threats, your social media accounts are bombarded with harassment, and reporters camp outside the apartment building, cameras ready to capture every move. A particularly ominous email arrives from an anonymous account, promising that “justice will come” for what you’ve done.

Max reads it over your shoulder and immediately storms out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s back, phone pressed to his ear as he paces the length of the living room. You catch snippets of his conversation. “Former military … no, only the best … round-the-clock.”

When he finally hangs up, you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “What was that about?”

“Bodyguards,” he says flatly.

You blink. “What?”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Max says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve hired a team. They’ll be here tonight.”

“Max, that’s-”

“Not negotiable,” he interrupts, his eyes blazing with determination. “I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care if it feels over the top. If they’re sending you threats, you’re not walking around without protection.”

You let out a slow breath, recognizing the sheer fear underlying his anger. “What kind of bodyguards are we talking about?”

“Ex-special forces,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “They’re the best. Trained for high-risk situations. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, they’ll handle it.”

You can’t help but laugh, though the sound is hollow. “Max Verstappen, hiring a private army. Who would’ve thought?”

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he steps closer, his expression softening. “I mean it, liefje. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know.”

By nightfall, your new security team arrives. Four men and two women, all dressed in plain but professional attire, introduce themselves with clipped, no-nonsense precision. They’re intimidating, to say the least, but Max seems relieved the moment they walk through the door.

The leader of the team, a former SAS operative named Sam, lays out the plan in a low, calm voice. “Two of us will be stationed outside the apartment at all times. Another two will rotate shifts inside. We’ll also have someone following you whenever you leave the building. Discreet, but close enough to act.”

You nod, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and discomfort. “Thanks, Sam. Really.”

“Just doing our job, ma’am,” he says with a curt nod.

Max hovers nearby, watching the exchange with hawk-like focus. Once the bodyguards take their positions, he pulls you aside, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Feel safer?”

“Honestly?” You say, glancing toward the door where Sam is stationed. “It feels like we’re in a spy movie.”

Max cracks a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Better a spy movie than a tragedy.”

The following days are surreal. The FIA is in complete disarray, with high-ranking officials resigning or being placed on administrative leave as the investigations intensify. Every news cycle seems to bring another bombshell revelation: hidden accounts, off-the-record meetings, connections to corrupt government officials.

Even Formula 1 teams begin distancing themselves from the governing body. Drivers are asked about it in every interview, and while most offer diplomatic responses, a few — like Lewis and Charles — publicly voice their support for you.

Through it all, Max stays glued to your side, protective in a way you’ve never seen before. Whenever you leave the apartment, he insists on going with you, even if it’s just to grab groceries.

One evening, as you’re scrolling through Twitter, you stumble upon a post from a well-known journalist.

@yourusername’s bravery has set off one of the biggest scandals in motorsport history. But the question remains: how deep does the corruption go? #ExposeFIA

You show the tweet to Max, who nods grimly. “They’re right,” he says. “This is just the beginning.”

You lean back against the couch, exhaustion weighing on you. “Yeah. And the FIA is going to do everything they can to bury me before it gets worse for them.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “They can try,” he says quietly. “But they’ll have to go through me first.”

You smile faintly, resting your head against his chest. The fight is far from over, but with Max by your side — and a small army of bodyguards watching your back — you feel ready for whatever comes next.

***

Max’s voice cuts through the quiet of the apartment. “Don’t go to Austin, please.”

You look up from your laptop, brows furrowing. He’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His hair is damp from the shower, but his expression is dry — serious, almost pleading.

“I already told you,” you say, your tone firm but calm. “I’m not hiding.”

“It’s not hiding,” he says quickly, stepping closer. “It’s being smart. Let them think whatever they want. You don’t have to prove anything by being there.”

You push your chair back, turning fully to face him. “If I don’t go, they’ll think they’ve won. That I’m scared of them. I’m not giving them that satisfaction.”

Max exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about pride, Y/N. It’s about your safety. They’ve already made it clear they’re willing to play dirty.”

“They’re already under investigation by half the agencies on the planet,” you counter. “They wouldn’t dare try anything now. Not in front of the entire world.”

His eyes narrow slightly, his frustration bubbling just under the surface. “You’re underestimating them.”

“And you’re underestimating me,” you say softly, standing up. You walk over to him, resting your hands on his forearms. “I’m not cowering in fear. I refuse to let them intimidate me.”

Max’s jaw tightens, his hands twitching as if he wants to pull you into him but can’t quite let himself. “I can’t …” He pauses, his voice dropping. “I can’t focus on the race if I’m worried about you the whole time.”

You tilt your head, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Then don’t worry. I’ll be in the garage, surrounded by your team and my guards. Nothing’s going to happen.”

He stares at you for a long moment, the conflict in his eyes almost unbearable. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders sagging. “Promise me you’ll stay close to the guards. No wandering off, no risks.”

You nod, squeezing his arm. “I promise.”

***

The Circuit of the Americas is buzzing with energy as you and Max arrive for free practice. Fans line the paddock entrance, waving flags and shouting his name as you walk toward the Red Bull garage, flanked by two of your bodyguards. Max’s hand hovers protectively at the small of your back, and you can feel the tension radiating off him.

“You don’t leave the garage,” he says as you reach the entrance, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not for food, not for interviews. Nothing.”

“I know,” you say, trying to soothe him with a gentle smile.

Max leans down, his voice low and fierce. “I mean it, schatje.”

“I know,” you repeat, softer this time.

Satisfied, though still visibly uneasy, Max kisses your forehead before heading off to change into his race suit. You settle into a chair near the engineers, watching the monitors as the mechanics fuss over his car. Sam stands just a few feet away, his eyes constantly scanning the room.

Max appears in full gear, his helmet tucked under his arm. He glances at you one last time before stepping toward the car. “Stay here,” he says firmly.

“Go drive, Verstappen,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

He doesn’t smile, but his gaze lingers on you for a moment before he nods and climbs into the car.

The first twenty minutes of the session pass uneventfully. Max is quick on track, his name lighting up the timing screens. The garage is busy but calm, the sound of the commentators droning faintly in the background.

And then, chaos.

A car bursts into flames on the back straight, smoke billowing into the air. The screens in the garage flicker to a red flag, and people jump into action, radios buzzing with updates.

“Car 23, it’s Albon!” Someone shouts. “He’s out, but the car’s on fire-”

Everyone’s attention is glued to the monitors, watching the marshals scramble to extinguish the flames. The smell of burning rubber seems to seep into the garage, and the noise level spikes as mechanics, engineers, and team officials bark orders and updates.

You glance at Sam, who nods reassuringly. “Stay put,” he says.

But in the chaos, no one notices the shadow slipping through the crowd behind you.

A hand clamps over your mouth, and something sharp pricks the side of your neck. Your vision blurs instantly, the world tilting sideways as your body goes limp. You feel yourself being dragged, but your limbs won’t cooperate, won’t fight back.

Sam’s voice echoes dimly in the background. “Where’s Y/N?”

You try to shout, to move, but the darkness swallows you whole.

And then, nothing.

***

When you wake, it’s like surfacing from a deep, suffocating void. Your head throbs, and your limbs feel heavy, almost disconnected. The first thing you notice is the faint hum of fluorescent lights above you. Then the sharp sting in your wrists and ankles — tight bonds cutting into your skin.

You’re tied to a chair, the cold metal frame unforgiving against your back. The air smells faintly of damp concrete, and the room is dimly lit, industrial — like the basement of a forgotten building.

Panic blooms in your chest as you struggle against the restraints, the rope biting into your skin with every movement. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to think, to focus. You remember the race, the chaos in the garage, and then — nothing.

Footsteps echo down a hallway. Steady, deliberate.

Your heart pounds in your chest as a figure steps into the room. The man is immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back, his face a mask of cold disdain.

The FIA president.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says smoothly, closing the door behind him. He walks toward you, his polished leather shoes clicking against the floor. “I was beginning to worry the dosage was too much. I’d hate to have overdone it.”

You glare at him, your voice hoarse as you manage to croak out, “What the hell … is this?”

He stops a few feet from you, clasping his hands behind his back. “This,” he says, his tone almost casual, “is what happens when you ruin someone’s life, Miss L/N.”

Your heart sinks, but you keep your expression steady. “You kidnapped me?”

“I prefer to think of it as … leveling the playing field,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “After all, you didn’t hesitate to destroy my reputation, my career — everything I’ve built over the last three decades. Surely you didn’t expect there to be no consequences?”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound rough and unsteady. “You destroyed your own career by being corrupt. All I did was expose the truth.”

His jaw tightens, a flicker of anger breaking through his calm façade. “The truth,” he repeats, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The FIA is in shambles. Investigators are tearing through every document, every bank account. Major sponsors are pulling out. Drivers are threatening to boycott. All because of you.”

“Good,” you snap, your voice gaining strength. “You deserve it. Every single one of you who let this happen deserves it.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Do you think the world will thank you for this? For dragging motorsport into the mud? You’ve made enemies far more powerful than you can imagine.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you spit, though your heart is racing.

He smiles, but it’s cold and cruel. “You should be.”

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating. Then he leans down, his face inches from yours.

“You ruined my life,” he says softly, his tone icy and deliberate. “So the least I could do is ruin yours.”

You hold his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Do whatever you want to me. It won’t change anything. The truth is out. You can’t bury it now.”

He straightens, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps not,” he says, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. “But I can make you wish you’d never posted that little tweet.”

You don’t respond, your breath hitching as he turns and walks toward the door.

Before he leaves, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “Enjoy your stay, Miss L/N. It’ll be your last taste of freedom for a very long time.”

The door slams shut, and you’re left alone in the dim, silent room, your heart pounding and your mind racing. You tug at the ropes again, desperation clawing at you, but they hold firm.

You have no idea how much time you have — or if anyone even knows where you are. But one thing is clear: you’re not giving up without a fight.

***

The moment Max hears the words, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

“She’s gone.”

The voice comes from Sam who’s pale and shaking despite his years of military training. The garage is chaos, but Max doesn’t register any of it. The team radios, the mechanics shouting about the car, the fans outside the paddock — it all fades into a dull hum.

“What do you mean, gone?” Max’s voice is low, dangerous, the calm before an eruption.

Sam hesitates, and that hesitation is enough to snap Max’s restraint. He takes two steps forward, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt.

“What. Happened?” Max snarls, his grip tightening.

“She — someone — must have used the chaos to grab her,” Sam stammers, his voice faltering under Max’s fury. “I was right there. I don’t-”

“You were right there?” Max shouts, his voice echoing in the garage. His mechanics freeze, everyone suddenly aware of the storm brewing in the middle of their space. “Then how the hell is she gone?”

“I-I don’t know,” Sam admits, looking down, shame written across his face. “It was fast. We didn’t see-”

Max releases him with a shove, his hands trembling with rage. He feels like he’s going to explode, his chest heaving as he tries to breathe.

“Find her,” Max spits, his voice low and filled with venom. “Or I swear, you’ll regret ever taking this job.”

Sam nods quickly, already pulling out his phone, barking orders to the rest of the security team. But Max doesn’t wait to hear more.

He storms out of the garage, shoving past anyone who dares step in his path. His vision is a blur of fury, his ears ringing. People call his name — Christian, his press officer, even a few reporters — but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

The first FIA official he sees is standing just outside the paddock offices, talking to a group of staff. Max doesn’t even pause to think. He closes the distance in seconds, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Max!” Someone yells behind him, but he doesn’t care.

“Where is she?” Max growls, his face inches from the man’s.

The official — a younger man with wide eyes and a trembling mouth — raises his hands in surrender. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Max shouts, his voice raw and unhinged. He tightens his grip, the fabric of the man’s shirt bunching in his fists. “If even one hair on her head is hurt, everyone involved will wish they were dead. Do you understand me?”

“Max, let him go!” Christian’s voice cuts through the chaos as Red Bull staff rush toward him, trying to pull him back.

“Stay out of this!” Max snaps without looking, his eyes locked on the trembling FIA official. “You know something. You all do.”

“I don’t!” The man insists, his voice cracking. “I swear, I don’t-”

“You’re all complicit,” Max growls, his voice low and menacing. “You’re all covering for each other, just like always. But if anything happens to her, I will burn this entire sport to the ground.”

“Max!” Christian’s hands are on his shoulders now, trying to pull him back. “This isn’t helping. We’ll find her. You’re just making it worse!”

For a moment, Max hesitates, his breathing ragged. Then, with a frustrated snarl, he shoves the man away, releasing his grip. The official stumbles, gasping for air, but Max doesn’t even look at him as he turns to Christian.

“They took her,” Max says, his voice breaking for the first time. “She’s gone, Christian.”

Christian’s face softens, his usual calm demeanor tinged with worry. “We’ll find her, Max. I promise.”

But Max shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “Promises don’t mean anything if she’s hurt.”

He storms off again, ignoring the cameras and the whispers that follow him. His mind is racing, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. Who has you? Why? How?

And then the worst thought of all … what if he’s too late?

***

The shed is suffocatingly small, barely more than a wooden box. Its peeling paint and sagging roof make it look like it’s been abandoned for years, forgotten in the middle of rural Texas farmland.

The search had stretched for days, involving everyone from local sheriffs to federal agents to Interpol. Max hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. He’d barely spoken, except to bark orders and demand updates. And now, standing in front of the shed, his heart feels like it might stop altogether.

“Max,” Christian says, his voice a low murmur from behind. “Let them go in first.”

But Max shakes his head, already moving forward. A Texas Ranger tries to stop him, but Max glares, and the man steps aside, the air between them crackling with unspoken understanding.

The door creaks as Max pushes it open, the sound loud in the eerie stillness.

Inside, the air is stale, thick with the scent of mildew and dust. The dim light from the open door spills into the room, illuminating the figure slumped against the far wall.

You.

Max freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

You’re tied to a chair, the ropes biting into your skin, your wrists and ankles raw from the restraints. Your head is slumped forward, but at the sound of the door, you stir, lifting your face ever so slightly.

Bruises bloom across your cheekbone, your arms, the pale skin of your neck. Dried blood streaks your temple, and your lips are cracked, split in places. But it’s your eyes — glassier than he’s ever seen them, unfocused yet somehow still searching — that shatter him completely.

“Liefje,” Max breathes, his voice breaking.

You blink slowly, struggling to process. And then, somehow, against all odds, your eyes focus on him. Recognition flares, faint but unmistakable, and your lips move, though no sound comes out.

Max falls to his knees.

The world blurs around him — voices shouting, footsteps rushing in, hands grabbing for you. But all he can see is you. He crawls forward, his knees scraping against the rough floor, until he’s right in front of you.

“Y/N,” he says again, louder this time, his voice shaking. “I’m here. It’s me. It’s Max.”

Your head tilts slightly, your lips parting as if to say something.

“Don’t,” he whispers, his hands trembling as he reaches for you. He hesitates, afraid to touch you, afraid of causing more pain. “Don’t try to talk. Just … just stay with me.”

Tears blur his vision as he takes in the state of you. Every bruise, every cut feels like a dagger to his chest. He wants to scream, to rage, to destroy whoever did this to you, but he pushes it all down, forces himself to focus on you.

You manage a weak sound — barely more than a rasp — but your eyes never leave his.

“I’m here,” Max repeats, his voice fierce now, as if sheer force of will can keep you tethered to him. “You’re safe. I swear to God, you’re safe now.”

“Max …” you whisper, your voice so faint it’s almost lost in the chaos around you.

“I’ve got you,” he says, leaning closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I’ve got you, schatje. They’re never going to hurt you again.”

Behind him, medics and agents flood the shed, their voices urgent as they assess the scene. Someone touches Max’s shoulder, but he shrugs them off violently.

“Not yet,” he snaps, his tone deadly. “Give me a second.”

The medic hesitates, then backs away.

“Max,” you say again, a little louder this time, your voice raw and broken. Your eyes fill with tears, spilling over as you look at him.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his own tears falling freely now. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

For the first time, the faintest flicker of a smile ghosts across your lips. It’s fragile, barely there, but it’s enough to make Max’s chest tighten.

He leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead, his hands finally settling on your knees as he grounds himself in your presence.

“They’ll pay for this,” he murmurs, his voice dark and unyielding. “Every single one of them. I promise you.”

Your head tips forward, leaning against him as the medics finally step in, their voices careful and quiet. Max doesn’t let go, not until they’re lifting you onto a stretcher, not until they’re absolutely sure you’re stable.

Even then, he doesn’t leave your side.

***

Max sits in the darkness of your shared apartment, his fingers steepled, his eyes fixed on the glow of his laptop screen. The names are all there. Every single one of them.

The investigation, spearheaded by law enforcement and fueled by global outrage, had revealed the tangled web of corruption that led to your kidnapping. At the center of it: the FIA president and a handful of high-ranking officials who had conspired to silence you for what you’d uncovered.

Max stares at their faces, the headshots lined up on the screen like a hit list. And in his mind, that’s exactly what it is.

There are many things about his childhood that Max tries not to think about. His father’s cold, unrelenting discipline. The constant berating. The punishments for anything less than perfection. Jos Verstappen hadn’t raised a son … he’d forged a weapon.

For years, Max had hated him for it. But now, for the first time, he feels a grim sense of gratitude. Because Jos had taught him something important: how to be cruel.

Max isn’t naïve enough to think the justice system will fix this. No prison sentence, no public disgrace will ever feel like enough for what they did to you — for the bruises that painted your skin, for the fear in your eyes when they finally found you.

These people had tried to destroy you. Max is going to destroy them first.

***

The first one falls within days. A minor official, the logistics director who had helped orchestrate your transport to the shed. He’s found in his sprawling Paris apartment, lying facedown in a pool of his own blood. The police call it a robbery gone wrong, but Max knows better.

The second is a middle manager in finance who’d helped funnel bribes through FIA accounts. He vanishes without a trace, his car abandoned on a lonely stretch of highway.

Each one is different. A tragic accident. A sudden disappearance. A stroke of bad luck. But the common thread is unmistakable. The officials complicit in your kidnapping are dropping like flies, one by one, their fates tied to their betrayal.

Max doesn’t get his hands dirty — not directly. He doesn’t have to. Money buys silence, loyalty, and an army of people willing to do what he can’t.

He watches it all unfold from a careful distance, his heart cold and steady. The guilt, if it comes, is fleeting. These people made their choices. Now they’re paying for them.

***

The FIA president is last.

Max makes him wait.

For weeks, the man is forced to watch as his associates vanish, as the walls close in around him. The investigation has left him disgraced, stripped of his title, his assets frozen. He’s a man on the run, hiding in the shadows of his former power.

But Max knows where he is. He’s known from the beginning.

It happens in the dead of night, in the decaying mansion the president had fled to somewhere in the French countryside.

Max doesn’t send someone else this time. This one, he wants to see for himself.

***

The president is sitting at a desk, the room lit by a single dim lamp. He’s aged years in a matter of months, his face gaunt, his hands trembling as he rifles through papers. He doesn’t hear Max until it’s too late.

The sound of the door closing makes him freeze.

When he looks up, Max is already there, standing in the doorway, his face blank but his eyes burning with a quiet, lethal fury.

“Hello,” Max says, his voice calm.

The president’s face goes pale. He stumbles to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor. “W-what are you doing here? You have no right-”

“Sit,” Max says sharply.

The man stops mid-sentence, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He sinks back into the chair, his movements stiff and jerky.

“You ruined your own life,” Max says, stepping closer. His voice is measured, even, but there’s an edge to it that makes the air in the room feel heavier. “But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to try to ruin hers too.”

The president’s hands shake as he grips the edge of the desk. “I-I didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Max interrupts, his tone icy.

The man flinches, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape. But there’s nowhere to go.

“You didn’t just hurt her,” Max continues, his voice low. “You left her tied to a chair in the middle of nowhere, beaten and bleeding. You thought no one would find her. You wanted her to disappear.”

The president tries to speak, but the words die in his throat.

Max leans forward, his hands resting on the desk. “I’ve let you live longer than you deserve. But this ends tonight.”

The president shakes his head frantically, panic overtaking him. “You can’t do this! I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Max asks, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Run to the police? Tell them what you did? They’d love to hear about it.”

The president’s breathing becomes ragged, his chest heaving as he realizes there’s no way out.

Max straightens, his gaze cold and unrelenting. “You took her because you thought I’d let it go. Because you thought I’d be too afraid to fight back. But you were wrong.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Max’s words settling over them like a storm.

When it’s over, the only sound is the faint rustle of the wind outside.

Max walks out of the mansion, his hands steady, his heart unyielding.

The world will never know what happened to the former FIA president. But Max doesn’t care.

All that matters is that it’s done. You’re safe. And no one will ever hurt you again.

***

You wake with a jolt, the scream clawing at your throat but never making it out. Your chest heaves, your skin slick with sweat, the remnants of the nightmare still vivid behind your eyelids. The ropes, the shed, the bruising grip of strangers. You can still feel it, can still hear the taunts of the man who orchestrated it all.

For a moment, you don’t know where you are. Your hands tremble as you clutch the sheets, the darkness of the room suffocating. But then you feel him.

“Schatje,” Max whispers, his voice thick with sleep and concern. His arms are around you instantly, pulling you into his chest. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re with me.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, your breathing erratic as you cling to him like a lifeline. His scent, his warmth, his steady heartbeat — these are the things that tether you back to reality.

“It was just a dream,” he murmurs, his hand running up and down your back. “Nothing can hurt you here. I won’t let it.”

You don’t say anything, but the way your fingers fist the fabric of his shirt tells him enough.

Max tightens his hold, his lips pressing to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I let you down. I should’ve protected you. I-”

“Stop,” you croak, your voice hoarse from disuse. You pull back slightly, enough to meet his gaze. His blue eyes are raw, rimmed with red, his guilt carved into every line of his face. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head, refusing to meet your eyes. “Yes, it was,” he says, his voice rough. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve been there. If I had-”

“Max,” you interrupt, your voice soft but firm.

He finally looks at you, and the weight of his guilt makes your chest ache.

“You didn’t let me down,” you say, your hand cupping his cheek. “What happened was their fault. Not yours.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he says, his voice trembling. “And I didn’t. I failed.”

“Max.” You sit up straighter, your other hand framing his face. “You didn’t fail me. You saved me. You found me. You’ve been here for me every second since. That’s what matters.”

He tries to argue, his lips parting, but you don’t let him.

You lean forward and kiss him, cutting off whatever protest he was about to make. It’s gentle at first, a soft reassurance, but then it deepens, your hands slipping into his hair as you pour everything into it — all your gratitude, your love, your need to make him understand.

When you pull back, he’s breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “And you didn’t let me down. You’ll never let me down.”

Max’s eyes close, a shuddering breath escaping him as his hands settle on your waist. “I’ll never let anything happen to you again,” he murmurs. “I swear. No one will ever hurt you again.”

“I know,” you say softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I trust you.”

The room falls quiet again, the tension melting into something softer as Max holds you close. The nightmare still lingers at the edges of your mind, but with him here, it feels manageable.

You close your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you back toward sleep, your head tucked under his chin.

***

The world looks different now. Formula 1 has been turned inside out and rebuilt piece by piece, its foundation gutted, its walls scrubbed clean of rot. The FIA, once untouchable, now stands as a phoenix reborn — smaller, humbler, and watched under a microscope by a public that no longer trusts blindly.

And the man standing at its helm?

Sebastian Vettel.

His appointment shocked everyone, though in hindsight, maybe it shouldn’t have. A four-time world champion with a reputation for integrity, sharp wit, and an inexplicable love of bees, Sebastian had been the last person anyone expected to re-enter the fold. Yet here he was: a symbol of hope and accountability.

And now, sitting in your living room.

You stare at him, still trying to reconcile the fact that Sebastian Vettel is perched on your sofa, a cup of tea balanced in his hand, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. He wears a suit, though the top button is undone and his shoes scuff slightly on your rug — small signs that, for all his new authority, he’s still Sebastian.

Max, seated across the room with his arms crossed, is visibly tense. He hasn’t said much since Sebastian arrived, choosing instead to lean back in his chair and observe. Protectively.

“Just to be clear,” you say, leaning forward, “you want to hire me?”

Sebastian smiles faintly, setting his tea down on the table. “Yes. You.”

“As a forensic accountant?”

“Yes.”

“To audit the FIA?”

Sebastian leans back slightly, his expression soft but serious. “To make sure nothing like what happened ever happens again. To hold us accountable, to make sure every financial and ethical line is crystal clear. You’ve proven yourself, Y/N. The FIA needs someone sharp, honest, and relentless. You’re all three.”

You blink, thrown off balance. You’d been bracing for congratulations or polite pleasantries — not this.

“Why me?” You ask finally.

Sebastian doesn’t hesitate. “Because you’re the only person I trust to do it right.”

That knocks the air from your lungs.

Across the room, Max shifts, his brows furrowing. “You’re asking her to put herself in the middle of it again,” he says, his voice low, edged with a protectiveness Sebastian doesn’t miss. “After everything.”

Sebastian turns to Max. “I’m asking her to fix it. If anyone can make sure the FIA stays clean, it’s Y/N.”

Max’s jaw tightens, and you can feel the storm brewing inside him. He’s fought so hard to keep you away from anything that even smells like danger. You know he hates the idea of you stepping back into this mess, even from a position of safety.

But you also know he won’t stop you if this is what you want.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to Sebastian. “You understand what you’re asking, right? I’ll find everything — everything. Even the things you don’t want me to.”

Sebastian nods. “That’s the point.”

You study him for a moment. There’s no hesitation in his face, no flicker of doubt. He means it. He’s really here to clean house, and he’s offering you a key role in ensuring that it happens.

Your fingers twist in your lap as you weigh the choice. You could walk away from it all, leave the FIA in someone else’s hands, and never think about its corruption again.

But then you think about the shed. The ropes. The bruises. The quiet corruption that enabled people like the former president to go unchecked for so long. You think about how close they came to breaking you — and how they’ll never get the chance to do it again.

Because you won’t let them.

You straighten in your seat, your voice clear. “If I do this, I want total autonomy. No limits on what I can investigate, no oversight. If I smell anything remotely off, I follow it wherever it leads.”

Sebastian smiles faintly, like he expected nothing less. “Done.”

“And if I say something needs to change, it changes. No delays, no excuses.”

“Done,” he says again.

Max exhales sharply, his frustration rolling off him in waves. “Y/N …”

You glance at him, softening. “It’s my decision.”

He shakes his head, staring at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you. “I don’t want you anywhere near them again. I don’t care who’s in charge.”

Sebastian clears his throat, respectful but firm. “This is her choice, Max.”

Max shoots him a withering glare but doesn’t argue further. Instead, he looks at you, his expression raw. “You just got out of this. Why would you go back?”

You reach across the space between you and take his hand. “Because if I don’t, someone else will. And they won’t be as careful, or as ruthless.” You squeeze his fingers gently. “You don’t have to like it, but you know I’m right.”

Max doesn’t reply immediately. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders slumping just slightly.

“I don’t like it,” he says quietly, “but I’ll stand by you.”

You smile faintly, your chest warming as you meet his eyes. “I know.”

Sebastian, ever perceptive, chooses that moment to stand. “I’ll give you some time to think it over,” he says. “But … I hope you say yes.”

You nod, your decision already made. “I’ll think about it.”

Sebastian gives you both a small smile before making his way to the door. “Take care of each other,” he says as he leaves.

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you and Max alone in the quiet.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then Max groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sebastian Vettel as president of the FIA? I didn’t see that one coming.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Me neither.”

His hand drops, and he looks at you, his expression serious again. “If you’re really going to do this, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Bodyguards, security — whatever you need.”

“I’m not going to war,” you tease gently.

“You say that now,” he mutters, his voice darkening. “But I know how this world works. You’re making enemies the second you start digging again.”

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got you to protect me, isn’t it?”

Max exhales, his arms looping around you as he pulls you close. “Always.”

You nestle into his chest, letting his heartbeat steady you, the weight of the decision settling over you. You know what you’re walking into. You know the risks.

But you also know you can’t look away — not now, not after everything.

The FIA has been reborn. And you’re going to make sure it stays that way.