uh-

all i do is reblog what i like & post nonsense MULTI ACC / STAN? lol (she/her)

[lvrclerc]

✶ THE EX EFFECT

summary: being oscar piastri's pr manager is... uneventful, to say the least. that is, until your most recent ex winds up the mclaren garage. in an attempt to prove him something, the arm you end up grabbing is oscar's. now the word is spreading around the paddock that you're his (fake) girlfriend and it turns into a beneficial pr opportunity for him and a perfect cover up for you. except oscar gets a little too good at it, and all the reminders in the world are not enough for you to keep in mind that this is fake.

F1 MASTERLIST | OP81 MASTERLIST

pairing: oscar piastri x pr manager!fake gf!reader

wc: 19.2k

cw: not proofread, past toxic relationship, annoyances/colleagues to lovers, fake dating, he falls first, sort of third act breakup, oscar is slightly ooc, very light angst, season timeline is fucked but who cares! romance! clichés! drama!

note: requested here, i know nothing about pr, this was supposed to be short but i couldn't stop myself so you have this monster of a fic! i kinda hate this. anyways, enjoy!

WHEN YOU FOUND out you’d aced your interview, you thought to yourself, the sleepless nights carrying group projects every other member had procrastinated were worth it. The number of social events you passed on to finish top of your class─valedictorian, Communications major with a Journalism minor─had paid off because you had just landed a job as PR manager in Formula One. Not just in any team, either: McLaren. You were ready to dive into the glamour, the glitz, and the hardships of the sport. To thrive in the pressure, the politics, the media storms. You were ready to shine.

Except you were managing Oscar ‘No Emotions’ Piastri, and nobody thought about telling you that.

Oscar Piastri, a quiet semi-rookie when you first crossed the headquarters’ threshold, who gave you five words max per interview, had a sarcastic comment to every command the team social media manager threw his way, and disappeared at every media opportunity like a ghost, deadpanning instead of showing enthusiasm. Needless to say, there wasn’t much for you to manage.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You nudged him gently at first: helpful suggestions, friendly reminders to loosen up a little. Be more engaging. Play the game. But every time you did, he looked at you as if you'd sprouted a second head and proceeded to swiftly ignore you. The first time it happened, you were offended, and maybe a little concerned. You complained to Charlotte, Lando’s PR manager at the time, and she gave you the wisdom of a woman who had seen some things: “Assert yourself,” she’d said.

It was your first month on the job. You were fresh out of university. You didn’t even know where the best coffee machine was. How were you even supposed to do that?

Still, you decided to try again.

During a long and taxing car drive to the McLarens’ HQ, one you were sharing with Oscar after a last-minute driver swap and a logistical disaster, you figured it was now or never. Assert yourself, Charlotte had said. Be firm. Be confident.

You went for humor instead. A joke. 

Terrible idea, in hindsight.

“You know,” you said lightly, breaking the silence that had stretched across three roundabouts, “you’re kind of boring.”

Oscar simply glanced at you, expressionless, so you clarified. “I mean, you’re not even letting me do my job. Throw me a bone here.”

And it was supposed to be playful. Oscar was supposed to quietly snort, asking how he could finally help you, and boom, you’d finally get to apply all that polished knowledge you’d studied for years.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, puzzled, as if you’d just spoken in Morse code aloud, and said, “Imagine being boring and still more interesting than your ex.”

“What?” You blinked. Saying you’d been taken aback would have been a euphemism.

He didn’t even look away from the road.

“You talk in your sleep. Don’t nap in the common room again.”

Silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t peaceful. It was personal.

That was the moment you decided, with startling clarity, that you very much disliked Oscar Piastri.

You didn’t know you talked in your sleep. You didn’t even know he’d stumbled upon you squeezing a thirty-minute nap in the common room of McLaren’s headquarters. And you certainly didn’t remember the dream you’d had─ or why exactly it had featured your ex out of all people. All you knew was that, no matter what he heard, it was a low blow.

Especially when it came to the one man who somehow slithered his way into your heart just to shatter it from the inside out.

Disliking the person you were assigned to manage wasn’t unheard of in the world of public relations. It was practically a rite of passage. Most of the time, it came with celebrities who were a walking headline: strippers, drugs, arrests, rumors of twins with three different people. That, you could’ve handled.

Oscar wasn’t like that at all. Oscar was just… rude.

Not loud rude, or messy rude. Just… quietly, unbotheredly rude. He was unreadable, dry, and too clever. Not a PR nightmare, just a PR black hole. Just to you.

And if there was one thing you happened to be very good at─besides the job you weren’t even getting the chance to do─it was holding a grudge.

After that episode, you kept your interactions with Oscar to the bare minimum, or as much as you could without being fired. The paycheck was just too good, especially as a fresh grad still recovering from student debt.

Any advice or directions you had for him came during team meetings, always surrounded by enough people that he couldn’t hit you with his usual blank stare. When he messed up during interviews, which was sometimes inevitable, and you followed up with a politely scathing email, bullet points and all. Face-to-face convos were reserved strictly for emergencies… or if you happened to be seated beside him, in which case you communicated via foot. Strategic, silent, and sharp. You’d step on his sneaker under the eyes of all, and he’d keep smiling at the camera like nothing happened. Except for the tiny, throbbing vein on his temple─ oh, you lived for it. 

It was a perfect arrangement. Passive-aggressive peace, mutually tolerated detachment. It worked for both of you.

Sometimes, you caught him glancing your way, wondering why you were still here. But you didn’t care. You had a system, and it was stable. It would’ve stayed that way for a long time, until your or his contract expired, whichever came first.

But then your ex decided to show up, and that messed everything up.

It was a very nice Thursday, dare you say. The kind of morning that made you think the season wouldn't be so bad.

You’d expected Bahrain to be hotter, considering the furnace it had been last year during the start of your first season with McLaren. But today, the air was warm without being unbearable, a soft breeze threading through the paddock and playing with the loose strands of your hair. Your cardigan slipped off one shoulder, but it didn’t cling or suffocate─ just draped like it was meant to be styled that way.

Oscar had just rolled out of the garage, off to log laps and data and whatever mysterious things drivers did during testing, which meant you were officially off-duty for the next three hours. You had time for yourself, maybe for a proper coffee and a chocolate croissant. Eventually, a little conversation with Lando, if you ran into him.

Yeah. This was a good morning.

You should have known it wouldn’t last.

It should have hit you when the coffee machine didn’t work, so you had to walk all the way to Lando’s side of the garage to fetch yourself a cup. It should have hit you when you didn’t even see Lando, and they were out of your favorite chocolate croissant. It should have hit you when you passed by grown men in their forties gossiping like schoolgirls about the new additions to Oscar’s car engineering team, you never heard anything about. It should have hit you when the feelings in your gut made you hesitate near the orange-colored walls.

But it really, really hit you when he grabbed your elbow.

“Y/N?”

Your body locked up like someone had flipped your off switch. The voice was familiar in the worst way─ like a nightmare you thought you’d finally grown out of. You didn’t even need to turn around. Your body already knew. Still, you did, as if asking the universe for confirmation.

And there he was. Theodore Silva, in full McLaren uniform, lanyard slung around his neck. Dark brown hair, messy, tied up in a bun, with his characteristic three o’clock shadow. Your ex-boyfriend. Your heartbreak origin story that, somehow, had the nerve to smile.

You would have backhanded him if the shock didn’t make your mind go blank.

“Wow,” he said, and you felt like a funny coincidence. “Didn’t expect to see you there. Always knew you were the ambitious one.”

Oh, you knew that tone. That patronizing little tone he used when he wanted to seem impressed while reminding you he could always do better. As if you hadn’t told him a million times about your fascination with motorsports and all of its scandals. You weren’t 19 and easily diminished anymore.

You slapped on a polite, seething smile. “I could say the same. I wouldn’t have guessed they hired people with so little… experience. Or the grades to back it up.”

Theodore Silva wasn’t the richest man alive. No, that title was reserved for his father, who owned a few businesses that took off in the early 2010s and left him with an outrageous amount of money and too much to do with it─ including sending his incompetent son to a prestigious business school even though he could barely manage to keep up half of the average required. Even his father’s money couldn’t get him to graduate the same year as you.

But after another year, it could apparently get him a job at McLaren.

Yet, Theodore still chuckled, brushing off your remark as if it were just another inside joke you two shared. “They just brought me on- engineering for Piastri’s car. Funny how life works out, huh?”

He was on Oscar’s team. You’d be obligated to see him, be near him, every day. You didn’t answer, just stared at him blankly, too busy cataloguing every sharp object in the vicinity, trying to ignore the twist of your heart.

“Small world,” he added to your silence.

You tried to smile again, but you knew it came out weird when the words that came out of your mouth sounded more like a screech than anything else. “Smaller than I’d like.”

Theodore tilted his head, studying you with calm eyes, as if he hadn’t watched you, arms dangling near his side, as you broke down in his apartment’s parking lot. “You look good,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

You stared at him.

Hell no. He had that voice, wearing guilt like an optional accessory, looking at you like he was the one that got away. The nerves. You hated how your chest tightened, the smell of his cologne, and how he thought he could just waltz in, throw some compliments around, hoping to win you back.

Fuck him. “I’m doing very well, Theodore. Loving my job. How’s Anna?”

That landed. He physically winced, scratching his neck. “We, uh─ We broke up, actually.”

How surprising.

“So─”

You weren’t about to let him finish. You weren’t about to let him think he even had the sliver of a chance. He wasn’t about to wreck the life you built for yourself by simply being here, no. Instead, you did the sanest thing anyone would have done in your place.

You lied.

“I have a boyfriend, actually.” The words came out so fast you almost flinched, not registering them yourself.

Theodore paused, eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, wildly too sharp for the context. “He’s great. Amazing, supportive. Emotionally available. You know─ faithful.”

He blinked, and his fake-casual mask slipped for a second. “What’s his name?” He asked, all lightness gone from his expression. 

That’s when it hit you. Unspoken panic rose in your throat because, believe it or not, you didn’t have a boyfriend. You barely even had a social life─ you spent most nights in bed with a sheet mask and Youtube videos. If you hesitated now, even for a second, Theodore would know. And he’d never let go, flashing you his smug little grin of his, strutting around the garage for a season, thinking he had a chance.

Not today, Satan.

The garage door behind you creaked open and footsteps echoed in your direction.

You didn’t look, didn’t think. You just grabbed the first arm that brushed against yours.

“This is him!” You said, an octave too high. “My boyfriend.”

And Oscar Piastri, your emotionally repressed, sarcasm-saturated PR headache of a driver, froze mid-step. As much as you wanted it, there wasn’t any way to back out now. His eyes dropped to your grip, white-knuckled, around his bicep. Then to you. Then to Theodore.

“... Sorry, what?” He said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Babe,” you hissed between your teeth, eyes still set on Theodore and smiling like your life depended on it. “Go with it.”

Finally, your ex managed to speak up. He was frozen, mouth half-opened in shock. “This is your─ You’re dating─ Oscar Piastri is your boyfriend?”

Oscar opened his mouth, definitely to ask what was going on, but you beat him to it. “Yes! Yep. It’s, um─ it’s very new. A few months.”

You finally turned to face him fully.

His brown eyes, sharp and unreadable as ever, flicked across your face─ first your eyes, then your mouth, then down to where your fingers were still digging into his arm. There was confusion there, definitely, but also a kind of calculation unique to him.

“This is Theodore,” you added, swallowing thickly. “He’s one of your new engineers.” You hesitated. “... and my ex.”

That’s when something clicked.

You felt it. The subtle shift in Oscar’s expression─ the way his shoulders straightened or the brief flicker of understanding behind his eyes. He glanced at Theodore just once before looking back at you. You pleaded silently. With your eyes, with your fingers brushing lightly over the sleeve of his fireproof top, even with the part of your lips that whispered please without making a sound.

But the longer you stood there, the more the panic crept up your spine. Oscar didn’t owe you anything. The man barely liked you. He could’ve thrown you under the bus without blinking, called you out right there and made your life ten times harder.

Which is why you almost jumped when his hand, much larger, reached up and gently settled above yours.

“Ah, Theodore,” Oscar said, like the name physically bored him. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about my reaction,” he added, fingers tightening just slightly over yours. “I just didn’t expect… this.”

He turned to glance at you. An innocent smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

Theodore snapped out of the shock that froze him into place, and his smile flickered. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said casually. “All the highlights.”

You blinked up at him, heart in your throat, unsure whether to laugh or sob. Was Oscar Piastri helping you?

“The highlights?” Theodore asked, dumbfounded.

Oscar hummed, thumb absentmindedly brushing over your hand─ just once, like punctuation. You weren’t dreaming, he was playing along. And the look on Theodore’s face was worth every single of it.

“Funny, she never mentioned you, or the fact she was dating an… F1 driver, as a whole.” As if you even talked to him anymore!

Oscar shrugged, way too relaxed. “That’s all right. We’re keeping it on the down low for now, I’m sure you understand. And we don’t do much… talking, anyways.”

Your jaw nearly hit the tarmac. You stepped on Oscar’s foot, a habit by now, and he barely flinched. Apparently, that was enough for Theodore. “Well,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Guess I’ll see you two around the garage.”

“Guess I’ll see you around my car,” Oscar answered, a little too quickly.

Theodore just glanced at him before muttering, “Small world.”

“So small,” you nodded stiffly.

The second he was out of sight, you yanked Oscar by the wrist like a woman possessed, dragging him to the nearest utility alleyway─ dim, slightly greasy smelling, and blessedly empty. For how long, though? You didn’t know. “Okay,” you hissed. “Wow, what the hell was that line?! We don’t do much talking?!”

Oscar raised a condescendent eyebrow, arms crossed on his chest. “I don’t know, you tell me, Mrs. This Is My Boyfriend. I just followed along. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You groaned so loud it echoed, looking up to the ceiling, hoping answers will fall off it and solve your life, simultaneously pacing a short line across the floor. “I know what I did, alright? I just─ I panicked! That guy─ he… he cheated on me. With my best friend. In my own bed. And I just─ he looked so smug and self-satisfied standing here like I’d run back to him. I needed to shove something in his face, show him I’m fine. Better. And I didn’t look and you were there and your arm was right there and now I’m going to have an aneurysm─”

Oscar blinked. “Wow. Okay. That’s… a lot of information, considering we barely know each other.”

“Thank you so much for the support, Oscar. I wonder whose fault that is, exactly!”

“I’m just saying. That was a whole soap opera act in thirty seconds,” he snapped back, rolling his eyes.

You exhaled harshly. “Whatever. I didn’t actually mean to drag you into this, okay? I’ll fix it. I’ll… tell him it was a misunderstanding or… I’ll figure it out. I’ll PR my way out of this, because whether you like it or not, it’s actually my job─”

“It’s fine,” he said, cutting you off, eyes closing briefly like he needed to reboot.

You paused. “Huh?”

“I said it’s fine.” His eyes opened again, locking onto yours. “Now that he thinks you’re dating someone, his delusional ego’s going to spiral and he’ll leave you alone. Especially if it’s someone… above in station, let’s say. Not to stroke my own ego.” He tilted his head, tone flat. “He looks like the insecure type.”

“He is,” you aggressively agreed, pointing at him like he’d just cracked the Da Vinci code, and you swore you saw his lips pull up. “So we just… leave it alone?”

“Let it die down,” Oscar continued with a casualness you could only hope to replicate. “Maybe have a conversation here and there for consistency, but that's about it. It’s not like he’s going to go around bragging that his ex-girlfriend is dating the guy he’s working for.”

You snorted. “I think he’d rather die.”

Oscar’s mouth twitched, trying not to smile. “Exactly.”

You sighed, finally letting your shoulders drop as the tension bled out of you. The adrenaline was still rushing through your veins, waterfall-like, but slowly softening, giving way to a quiet panic that you could make do with until the end of the day. It’s fine, you told yourself, it’ll be fine. “Okay,” you murmured, giving him a small nod. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“Don’t mention it,” Oscar replied, already turning away. “Literally.”

“Deal,” you said. “Never again.”

The plan was to return to your regularly scheduled programming─ distant and professional. With the way Theodore worked (or more accurately, didn’t), you were pretty sure he wouldn’t last long in the McLaren garage anyway. Life would go back to normal soon enough. You were sure of it.

Rule number one of PR management: never assume anything. Certainty was a myth. Because as long as there was even a sliver of doubt, it could all go wrong. Maybe you’d gotten complacent in your ways, Oscar never gave you anything to work with after all, but you really thought that this time, it would be fine. You slept like a rock that night, the kind of sleep where your mind recharged so hard it forgot you had responsibilities in the morning.

That’s probably the reason it took you so long to notice. First, it was the way people lingered as you passed. How engineers muttered behind their coffee cups and went dead silent when you got too close. You weren’t used to this level of attention─ as a whole, you were a pretty discreet presence in the paddock, so when the smiles came and the knowing smirks got thrown your way, you started becoming suspicious.

“Morningggg,” Lando sing-songed as you entered the McLaren hospitality tent.

“Good… morning?” You muttered, narrowing your eyes as you plopped down next to him. “What’s got you in such a good mood today?” You asked as you bite into the chocolate croissant you’d been craving since yesterday.

Lando studied you. Waiting.

“Do I have to guess, or…?”

The curly-haired man sighed dramatically, as if your question alone had aged him. “No, but I thought we were friends. Guess I was wrong, since I had to hear it from my race engineer. During briefing.”

You blinked. “Okay, what the hell are you on?” you admitted. “Have you been doing crack? Is that it?”

“Whatever, keep your secrets, Y/N,” Lando conceded, a smug little grin on his lips. “You’ll talk to me when you’re ready. Or I’ll just get the truth from Osc’. He seems… chatty, lately.” 

You couldn’t imagine Oscar Piastri being chatty to save your life. “What? What does Oscar have to do with anything?” But Lando was already up and walking off.

Alone with your chocolate croissant and your detonated sense of peace, you scanned the room, eyes darting in panic.

Across the tent, Oscar stood by the coffee station, talking to a staff member with his hands-in-pockets casual disinterest. His eyes met yours, and he paused mid-sentence, one eyebrow raised in that really? kind of way that made you want to slap him. There was a silent question in it. 

One you didn’t have an answer to.

The answer actually came knocking that night─ quite literally. Loud, incessant, unforgiving knocks at your hotel room door.

You were in the middle of taking off your makeup, cotton pad in one hand and dabbing at your under-eye concealer like it personally offended you. “Seriously?” You audibly commented, exhausted. It was nearly 10 PM. You’d done your job, answered more emails than anyone should in one day. The very least the universe could offer was twenty-four uninterrupted minutes of peace.

But the knocking didn’t stop, so you opened the door with a groan and a complaint on your tongue, only for the sound to die the moment you registered who was standing on the other side.

Oscar Piastri. In a hoodie, track pants, socks that did not match, and looking far too calm for someone who’d just banged on your door as if the apocalypse was tracking him down. You stared in confusion, words refusing to come out of your mouth no matter how hard you tried.

“Sooo… we might have a problem,” Oscar finally spoke in the silence stretching between you.

He walked in your room with no hesitation, without you even inviting him in─ the audacity! Sure, yeah, come on in, ruin my night, you thought. He glanced around, sizing your room and seemingly expecting paparazzis behind the mini-bar, before turning to face you with a flat look.

“What’s this problem that has you acting so dramatic for─”

“You’re trending on F1 Twitter. Well, we are,” he said simply, tone measured. “Someone took a photo. You holding my arm next to your ex. In the garage. And the caption is─”

He pulled out his phone. A screencap of big, red, capital letters: IS OSCAR PIASTRI SOFT-LAUNCHING HIS PR MANAGER?

It took a while for reality to set in. 

You stared at the screen blankly, eyes flicking from Oscar to the headline, erratic. Soft-launching. Soft-launching. You tasted blood in your mouth. Oh, no─ it was actually just your soul leaving your body. “This is not happening,” you mumbled, blinking rapidly. “It’s fake. This is fake. I’m hallucinating.”

Oscar hummed. “Want me to read you the quote tweets?”

You pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He shrugged and put his phone down. You sat down on your bed, hands flying to your temple. “Okay, okay. No big deal. I’ll just tell the team we were talking about… a car issue. A steering problem. Brake pedal feedback. That sounds fake, right? Like, real-enough fake.”

Oscar gave you a look. “You could try that,” he said slowly, “but your ex has apparently been sniffing around the garage asking people if we’re actually dating.”

“No way.”

“I overheard Lando’s race engineer telling him. He asked five different people.” A beat. “He’s not subtle.”

You could feel your eyes twitch. “Jesus Christ.”

Oscar crossed his arms, leaning back against the mini-bar, staring at you. “So I don’t think your little oh it was just a brake issue! excuse is going to cut it.”

“I’m going to end it all,” you said, dropping your face in your hands. “I’m going to crawl into my media kit and live there forever.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll bring you snacks.”

“How are you not freaking out? Like, at all? It’s your face on every headline, and my job on the line!” You didn’t want to think about the repercussions this would have on any future jobs you might want, or your actual one. Future employers were going to Google you and find dating rumors about a fake relationship with a driver you were managing.

“Oh, I freaked out,” Oscar cut in smoothly, walking toward you. “Trust me, I had a whole mini-existential crisis in the elevator.”

“That’s good for you, Oscar. Why aren’t you still freaking out?”

“Because I figured this might be a job for my PR manager,” he said, toned laced with sarcasm. “Who also happens to be the cause of the PR disaster in the first place.”

You opened your mouth just to close it, and to open it again. “That’s fair.”

“And you said I was too boring.” Oscar gave you a dry smile, and weirdly, that was the moment it clicked.

You were his PR manager. This─whatever mess the universe had decided to dump in your lap─wasn’t just a disaster. It was an opportunity. A viral, narrative-controlling opportunity. The kind of chaos you could work with. You’d complained that Oscar gave you nothing: too quiet and acidic. Well, he certainly wasn’t that anymore, or almost.

You straightened up, the panic slowly morphing into focus. Your heart was still pounding, but now to the rhythm of the plan puzzling itself in your head. No one had trained you for what to do when you were the story but if anyone could improvise, it was. Your idea was wild, unhinged, even. But you knew better than anyone that the line between unhinged and brilliant was just the execution. And if you played this right, it could be exactly what the both of you needed.

You turned to Oscar slowly, the corner of your lips twitching into something almost insane. “Oscar,” you said carefully. “What if we didn’t let this go to waste?”

“Come again?”

“I mean, this,” you gestured vaguely toward his phone, screen down on the counter. “Oscar Piastri’s mystery romance unveiled, blah blah blah. It’s a mess, but it doesn’t have to be.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “... You’re about to say something crazy.”

You got up from your spot on the bed to face him fully. “Fake dating.”

“There it is.”

“No, seriously, hear me out,” When he started taking a few steps back, you rushed toward him, hands animated. “People are already talking. We can’t undo the articles or stop the whispers, but we can own the story. It’s simple PR strategy: if the narrative’s out of our hands, we grab it back, shift the focus and make it work for us.”

“And what, exactly, would we be gaining from this?” Oscar looked deeply, deeply unconvinced.

You got closer to him and his eyes widened discreetly, quickly shifting from your eyes to your lips, and to the one finger you were holding up in front of his face. “One, you get press engagement. You’ve been called the human spreadsheet by more than one person─”

“Never heard of that.”

“Okay, maybe it’s only me, but my point still stands. This? It gives you dimension. Warmth. Personality. More people of all age groups rooting for you.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m dating you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. Two,” you continued without missing a beat, “I get a break from Theodore. He’s more likely to leave me alone if he thinks you’re in the picture long-term, or as close as we can get to it.”

“Isn’t that the reason you picked me in the first place?”

“I was desperate. You were here and tall.”

Oscar shrugged at your words, quietly agreeing with you, which egged you on for the last point of your argument. “Three, if this all goes up in flames, we just say we broke up. That wouldn’t be the ideal outcome until Theodore’s out of the picture, but if push comes to shove, we do this quietly. Classic ‘we ask for privacy during this time’, then ghost the media. End of story, and we go back to our ways.”

The silence stretching between the walls of your hotel room seemed to last a lifetime too long as the Australian studied you carefully, arms crossed on his chest. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“Actually, I just did. I’m that good.”

He exhaled loudly at your comment, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, and you tried your best not to let a little quip past your lips. “And how long would this have to last?” Oscar asked, voice muffled by his palm.

“Until Theodore goes away, which shouldn’t be more than a few weeks knowing his talents. Enough to let the story peak and settle and it would include a couple public appearances, some social media crumbs─ low effort, maximum payoff for you.”

Hope swirled in your chest with the intensity of a storm when he dropped his hands, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“And your ex leaving you alone would be the only thing you’d gain out of all this?”

You didn’t hesitate a single second when you answered. “That, and peace. Maybe a little petty revenge over him and honestly? A challenge.” Because this is what you’ve been dying to do ever since you stepped foot in the paddock a year ago.

And maybe Oscar saw the hellfire of determination in your eyes as he scanned you, either that or you sold your reckless idea with the confidence of a politician, because after long, skeptical minutes. He held out his hand, and the overwhelming weight pressing against your shoulders seemed to evaporate in the flight of a hundred butterflies.

“Fine, count me in,” he said, voice a little hoarse, “but if it all goes to shit, you’re taking the blame.”

You hastily took his hand, his rough palm fitting into yours, and you blamed the electricity rushing in your spine and the powdery pink of his cheeks on the ridiculous situation and the relief coursing through your body. “Deal, but it won’t go to shit if you keep up with me.”

The ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips, which made you smile. Your heartbeat was thundering in your chest and the heaviness of what you’d just agreed upon settled over you like a second skin.

Fake dating Oscar Piastri. How hard could it be?

First thing you did the next morning was to warn a handful of team members: there was no world in which running a fake dating scheme in secret wouldn’t come back to bite you and frankly, your job and reputation were already hanging by a thread due to yesterday’s PR earthquake. You and Oscar pulled Lando, Zak, and a few key staff members─social media, comms, and PR support─into the smallest available hospitality room you could find, locking the door behind you.

You explained the situation as fast as you could, hands raised in surrender under their gazes. How the rumors were technically true but not real, what conclusions you came to in such little time, and the thought process behind your idea, carefully excluding Theodore’s implication.

“Wouldn’t lying to the public make it worse?” Someone from comms piped up, deadpan.

You winced. “Damage control isn’t always about truth. It’s about optics, controlling the narrative before it controls us. We’ve assessed the risk, this buys us time to refocus headlines onto the cars, not the garage drama all while boosting Oscar’s popularity.”

Zak blinked at you as if you’d grown a second head. “You assessed the risk?”

“With me,” Oscar added from his chair, facing you. “I see the strategic upside. I’ll blow over in a few weeks, it’s fine. No harm done.” You sent him a silent thank you, holding his eyes just long enough for him to notice.

“Soo, when’s the wedding?” Lando piped up, leaning forward. “Or do we just have the break-up arc planned?”

You ignored him, preferring to explain the conditions of you and Oscar’s little agreement: no posts unless you greenlit them, no press comments and if anyone asked, yes, you were together. Happy. In love, but still casual. Social media staff were already scribbling notes or rapidly typing on their keyboards, and Zak looked like he might die of a heart attack.

So were you. Still, when you glanced at Oscar during one of McLaren’s CEO's silent breakdowns, you couldn’t help but share a silent laugh.

The following days were catastrophic, to say the least. Navigating the Bahrain paddock for the last of testing and media obligations for the first Grand Prix of the season the week after had turned into a minefield of knowing looks and suspicious stares. You and Oscar were learning how to walk the tightrope of fake affection with the grace of two toddlers. A few shared smiles, a shoulder brush, but every interaction felt rehearsed, taken off a badly written script. By some given miracle, it did work on some people but not all, and especially not Theodore. You could feel his eyes on you everytime you walked through the garage, narrowed as if waiting for a slip-up, but you’d rather die than prove him right.

By the end of the first few days, Oscar’s social media manager handed you a photo of the both of you to approve for Instagram─ one where Oscar had his arm slung around your shoulder awkwardly while you stood next to the car, all too aware of the massive lens pointed right at you. It was…

“It looks like we lost a bet,” you muttered, horrified.

Oscar leaned in over your shoulder to look at the picture. “Oh. Yeah, that’s bad.”

You threw your hands in the air, movements more powerful than words to transcribe the frustration elevating your blood pressure. Before a flurry of complaints and insults could slip past your lips, Oscar spoke.

“Okay, maybe it’s not very convincing, but it’s also because we haven’t figured out how to sell it correctly.”

“What a revolutionary thought.” He shrugged your comment off. 

“Well, I figured since we skipped the whole dating part and went straight to the whole madly-in-love thing, maybe it’s time we… backtrack?”

You felt the lightbulb switch on in your mind, eyes widening in realization. “Backtrack… like a backstory?”

Oscar nodded solemnly. “A timeline, yeah. How it started, how it’s going, first dates and everything. The whole fake fairytale.”

You couldn’t argue with that. You hated to admit he was currently beating you at your job, but Oscar was right. People were already speculating about the two of you a week in your fake relationship; everyone, including you, needed some foundations to be settled and fast. “Okay, alright. We can figure this out tonight, preferably in my hotel room since it apparently became the headquarters of this,” you made circle hand gesture between the two of you, “operation. Also because nobody will bust us in there.”

Oscar showed up at an ungodly hour of the evening─ the clock showcased numbers that hurt your sleep cycle, but nothing made the press talk more than going to your girlfriend’s room in the middle of the night, right? He knocked once before letting himself in, dressed in the same sweats and hoodie as a week ago, and holding a suspiciously large energy drink. “I come bearing poison,” Oscar announced, lifting the can.

You squinted at him from your spot on the bed-your hotel room lacking a desk-surrounded by a battlefield of notebooks and your wheezing laptop that was one short breath away from the grave. “Perfect, that’ll keep us up. We have work to do. Welcome to the Ted-talk-slash-lie-building meetup.”

Oscar kicked off his shoes, walking toward you. He eyed the chaos with a low whistle. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding.”

You handed him a purple glitter pen without even glancing in his direction. “Sit your ass down and write with honor, Piastri.”

“Glitter? Really?”

“Don’t patronize me. I love glitter gel pens. Better memorize that if you want to be a good fake boyfriend.”

Oscar snorted but didn’t protest as he took the pen, sitting down next to an open notebook on the edge of your bed. He cracked the energy drink open with a hiss, and you took it from his hands before he had the time to bring it to his lips. “Jesus, you’re bossy.” You shot him a look. “Alright, alright. Where do we begin?”

You exhaled, eyes settling on your computer screen. A bright, pink page was showcasing Date Idea: Where To Take Your Beloved For A First Date? “With the basics. When we started dating, how we met, how many fake months we’ve been in fake love, which side of the bed you sleep in for continuity purposes.”

“Right side.”

“Wrong answer. It’s mine.”

You gradually settled in a surprisingly comfortable rhythm. Between the quiet clicking of the keyboard, the buzzing of Chinese nightlife outside your window, and the rhythmic scratch of the glittery ink on paper, you and Oscar brainstormed.

Ideas came slowly at first, awkward and stilted the way two kids forced together in a group project would work─ which it was, in a way. It didn’t take you long to realize you didn’t know Oscar at all, and he didn’t know you either, and the recognition of that fact put a certain strain on your interactions, as much as there already was. Yet, the tension softened as the minutes from midnight trickled away. You found yourself building a history out of thin air, questions after questions and jokes after jokes─ inside jokes that didn’t exist and justified why you laughed so hard at ‘soft tyres’, a first date that involved a tragically undercooked lasagna which Oscar and you had to fight over because neither of you wanted to look like a bad cook. You chose May 21st as the anniversary date because it sounded cute. Oscar protested, “How can a date even be cute? It doesn’t make sense.” He still settled on it.

Snorts, teasing looks as you drew a clumsy timeline in the middle of your designated ‘Relationship Basics’ notebook. “What about our first kiss?”

“Mmh, that’s a good one. People are going to ask.”

“Duh,” you fought the smile on your lips with little effort. “C’mon. You were wearing that hideous orange puffer, it was raining, and I was mad because you didn’t share your umbrella.”

“Oh right, and you were soaked and… okay, you said I owed you a kiss for compensation. Sounds like something you’d do,” Oscar replied, leaning forward in mock seriousness.

You made a sound, halfway between a gasp and a laugh. “You do remember!”

He laughed. A real one, warm and easy, going right through your chest. You quickly joined him, and his eyes lingered on you a second too long after the joke faded. “I made it up with hot chocolate later, though,” he added with a lazy smile that didn’t belong in any scenarios.

You scribbled that in your notebook. “Ew. We are sickeningly cute.”

And somewhere between a fabricated ski trip and the great debate of who said ‘I love you’ first, something shifted, just a little. Oscar had moved from the edge of the bed to sit beside you, arms behind his head against the headrest, legs stretched on the covers. His knees bumped yours every now and then, but you didn’t flinch away. The notebooks laid abandoned now, pens scattered across the duvet. Your laptop screen dimmed after an hour of neglect and your limbs were heavy with the sweet stickiness of fatigue that only came when you laughed too much and too hard.

You glanced over at Oscar and his hair was a little messy, eyes a little sleepy, softened by the light of the space. He was already watching you. “You know,” he spoke up. “For a so-called meeting, it suspiciously looks like a sleepover.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, tiredness winning over your resolve. “It’s almost four,” he continued,  voice lower in the hush of your hotel room. “We’ve officially survived our first week of fake dating. Well, we did four hours ago, but…”

“And we haven’t accidentally gotten married in Vegas like they do in movies. I’d call that a win.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely not because of our amazing chemistry.”

A huff escaped you again, and your head fell back against the pillows. Shanghai still hummed outside the window, quieter this time, and the city lights threaded through the thin curtains you pulled. The room was just as still, if warmer─ you could feel the tired blush on your cheeks and the heat of Oscar’s thigh against yours. “You know, you’re not as annoying as I thought,” you said, a lazy sigh curling into your words.

It came out like an offhand casual observation, but you didn’t meet his eyes. Truth be told, you were ashamed. The whole year you’d convinced yourself Oscar Piastri was a nuisance and a stain on your work life had been shattered in the shine of glitter pens and the drafting of a romance novel-worthy story. Because he was actually kind of funny, and even though he delivered his jokes like he was bored half the time which you used to interpret as condescance, they still made you laugh. He listened when you spoke. He had a dry, understated charm you were starting to recognize as very authentic.

And he hadn’t complained once tonight. Not when you made him pick an anniversary date for the third time, or reenact a fake first meeting with your best friend. He was just… there.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he replied, but his voice melted at his usual edges. “You’re alright too. Surprisingly.”

When you turned your head, you found he was already looking at you for the second time, and a moment passed. You gave him a smile, barely there, and he looked away. “Guess we do make a decent team,” Oscar mumbled.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you mimicked him. He snorted.

You walked him to your door after an exchange of soft chuckles and breathy goodnights. Fake dating Oscar would be harder than you thought, but it definitely wouldn’t be as bad as you made it out to be.

You weren’t sure what it was between the sleep deprivation, the amateur acting, or the emotional whiplash of building an entire relationship with a guy you were only acquainted with, but something about it shifted the rhythm you’d gotten used to. Whatever happened during that night, being Oscar Piastri’s fake girlfriend became easier after it.

It started with texts. You couldn’t remember which one of you sent the first non-work related one, but it became a daily occurrence of linking the other pictures the press took of the both of you.Oscar would often comment something along the lines of Do I look like a man held hostage or a man in love? Be honest. You’d roll your eyes everytime, answering: All I can say is that I’m not flattered. At first, it was mostly logistical─ scheduling photo ops, making sure neither of you veered your scheme off the track. But somewhere between sarcastic captions and oddly flattering candids, the conversations grew longer. It became a way to kill time, a habit.

Oscar was easy to talk to, which was a thought that would’ve originally terrified you. Except the conversations carried off screen, and you found yourself enjoying them an awful lot.

Along the lines of your ruse, you started saving seats beside each other during lunch breaks or waiting up for the other to go back to the hotel together─ not for the cameras or Theodore’s heinous stare, but for a reason as simple as the enjoyment of the other’s company. Oscar was more than a colleague by that point, he became something else that you couldn’t quite call a friend the way you called Lando one. You stopped overthinking every step you took beside him, every glance and sentence. You had your script, sure. But more than that, you had a quiet kind of understanding. He knew when to press his hand to the small of your back when it was needed, and you knew when to lean in just enough to sell the look of something intimate. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was practiced. Comfortable, even. Maybe, just maybe, a little fun. Which is why you couldn’t tell when the little things started to feel not as little anymore.

Rare were the times you arrived late to a team briefing, but a late-night spiral reviewing articles about your little charade had stolen more sleep than you’d expected, and for the first time since you started out at McLaren, your alarms lost the battle. You slipped in your seat next to Oscar, a movement you barely thought about anymore, breathless, cheeks warm from your run across the paddock and the drizzle misting your hair. Your pants were drenched, there was a pounding behind your eyes and you were thirty minutes away from biting someone’s head off if they even dared mention your tardiness.

Oscar didn’t say anything at first, just glanced your way as he often did, eyes flicking up and down once. You braced for a comment, a joke, preparing to hold yourself back from doing something you’ll regret doing to your fake boyfriend in public.

Instead, he leaned down, reaching for a paper bag next to him, from where he pulled out a steaming paper cup and a chocolate croissant that he slid toward you without a word. Your name was scribbled across the side of the wrapper along with your very specific order, down to the temperature.

You looked at Oscar. At your breakfast. Then at Oscar again. “How─”

“You weren’t answering my texts,” he said, still looking forward. “Figured you’d be late, so I got you this. You get cranky with no sleep or caffeine in your system.”

“I don’t get cranky,” you muttered, wrapping your cold hands around the hot beverage. “You get sassy when you don’t sleep.”

“Sure,” Oscar said casually, meeting your eyes for the first time since you sat down. “There’s extra vanilla, by the way.”

You didn’t answer, just rolled your eyes, but his gaze was still on you when Zak burst through the door. The fact he remembered that you took extra vanilla syrup in your extra hot latte and that your favorite pastry was a chocolate croissant should be nothing, because you’re sure you told him at some point during your many one-on-one briefings. Except it wasn't. Not really.

Then, there was the flight. There was nothing the fans and the media loved more, and Theodore despised just as much, than couple apparitions at airports, which led to Oscar’s social media manager to nudge you into the believable. That’s how you found yourself catching the same flight as Oscar, Lando and a few others on their jet. It had become recurrent in the past few weeks and you’d never admit it out loud, but there were non-neglectable perks: fewer crying babies, more space, and the occasional poker game where you absolutely obliterated Lando’s ego. You know I’m just that good at acting, you’d said, throwing a cheeky smile at Oscar that he gave you right back.

This time, though, none of you had the energy to talk, let alone play cards. It had been an exhausting and emotional race weekend─ back-to-back media obligations underneath the fire of reignited on-track rivalries, rain delays, and disputes amid the team you couldn’t legally disclose. The jet was unusually quiet as it took off into the night sky, everyone slipping into their respective silence.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You usually didn’t in airplanes, they stressed you out too much─ you’d just leaned against the window for a little moment, eyes fluttering closed. The buzz of the engine and the soft cabin light blurred the world into static and you drifted away in a split second, as soon as the city was turned to insignificant holes in the black tapestry underneath you.

After a while, you felt a warmth, subtle at first. There was something solid against your shoulder, enough to make you crack one eye open.

Oscar’s head was resting against yours, and you were tucked comfortably against him. At some point, he’d dozed off too, and the both of you had slumped toward each other in your sleep. You could’ve moved, you know you would have a few weeks back, but you didn’t. You let your eyes close again and let yourself drift in and out of sleep along the quiet sync of your breath. His arms wrapped around your waist, your legs rested on his knees, and you weren’t quite sure how long you stayed like that─ten minutes, an hour─but when you finally woke up again, it was to the obnoxious flick of Lando’s phone camera and his barely contained laughter.

It was the accumulation of those little things, the seemingly insignificant moments that, piled together, made them bigger than they should have been. It was when Oscar took the habit of sleeping in your hotel room after qualifications to watch a movie under the pretense of simulating ‘passionate encounters’. It was when, one morning, bleary-eyed, you accidentally threw on his hoodie with his number printed on the back, and his hands lingered on the small of your back a little more possessively that day. It was when you were running low on your orange glitter gel pen and a full set was mysteriously delivered to your door, even if you didn’t need one. In the way his pupils dilated ever so slightly when you caught him staring, when he pointed right at you after his podiums, how your skin fizzed with heat for hours after he kissed your cheek in front of the cameras.

But what really blurred the line was the night in Spain.

It hadn’t been a particularly thrilling race─ tame from lights out to chequered flag. Oscar had finished P3, Lando snagged P2, both holding their qualifying positions with sharp determination. But the crowd had been wild, the champagne flowing and before you knew it, Lando dragged you and Oscar into Carlos’ plans for the night. All that happened after was a blur of neon lights and ear-shattering singing.

The walk back to the hotel was your idea- just a short stroll through warm cobblestone streets, the air sweet with late night chatter and the slow beginning of summer. You and Oscar snuck out the back entrance of the club, the latter clearly not fitting in the Spanish nightlife, your heels dangling from your fingers and his cap pulled low to hide the flush of his cheeks. Both of you were just tipsy enough to feel invincible, shoulders brushing as you exchanged anecdotes and very real inside jokes, something about not-much-talking, laughter echoing against the dead of the night.

It was quiet for a moment after that, the comfortable kind that sometimes settled between you. Oscar decided to break it.

“You know,” he started, softer than usual. “I’ve been meaning to ask─ why didn’t you like me at first?”

You turned your head up slowly, the reality of the question dawning on you. You raised an eyebrow. “What made you think I didn’t like you?”

“Come on.” Oscar gave you a look, and in the dark of his eyes you swore you saw the polite, Shakespearean insults you sneaked in your emails, the harsh tap on your foot on his, flashing in the quarter of a second. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t. At first.” 

He kept his eyes on you, waiting. You sighed, tipping your head back to look at the night sky─ no stars were visible, but it didn’t take away from the beauty of it. “You were just─” You paused, choosing your words carefully. “Honestly, you were rude, smug and condescending. I felt like you were trying to make my job harder than it should be by just- not doing anything. People were talking about you as this nice, quiet boy and I secretly wanted to bash your head against a wall.”

A beat. “Wow. That’s brutal,” he simply answered. “I don’t get how I gave that impression. I always thought you were the one being rude to me.”

Your head whipped in his direction and you could physically feel the disbelief splashed across your features. “Me? You started it!”

“How?”

“That one car ride in my third month,” you deadpanned. “You made a very snobbish comment about a dream I had about my ex. You said, and I quote─” you cleared your throat dramatically, dropping your voice to the flattest Oscar impression known to man, “‘Imagine being boring and still more interesting than your ex.’” Oscar was half-laughing by that point. “Oh, don’t you dare! You also said something about how I shouldn’t sleep in the HQ again, but for the record? It was my first triple-head─”

He held a hand up in mock surrender, mouth agape in stupor. “Is this what started this whole… passive-aggressiveness?”

“Uh… yeah? It was unnecessarily arrogant!”

Oscar made a face. “Unnecessary, sure. I get it. But you know what was also unnecessary? The intimidating, pretty new girl at McLaren─who also happened to be my new PR Manager─calling me boring to my face.”

The words hung in the air between the two of you. Your froze, caught off-guard by the ease with which the compliment slipped out. Oscar was continuing with his rant, either completely oblivious or choosing not to care. You cut him off. “... You thought I was pretty?”

That’s when he faltered, his lips parted in a half-word as if he hadn’t realized what he said before you pointed it out. Oscar’s gaze flicked to yours, then away, suddenly far more interested in the cracks of the sidewalk than anything else. “Well, yeah,” he took off his cap and brushed a hand through his hair like it might undo the sentence. “I mean, you still are. It’s not like that changed.”

It would be lying to say you had considered the possibility that you caused the tension between you and Oscar in the first place. While your sad attempt at humor might have been the catalyst, something must’ve already been simmering under the surface for things to go cold so quickly after it. Your heart gave the tiniest, traitorous jump, chest pulling in a reluctant way, at the thought he’d noticed you then. You despised how easy it was to smile, to fall into the warmth of the possibility.

“Oh,” you said softly, and it explained everything and nothing all at once.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar added quickly, flustered, “it didn’t feel great.”

You couldn’t tell if the red of his cheeks was from the heat, the alcohol, or the embarrassment, but what you could tell was how hopelessly cute you found him in this moment. You tried to play it cool, despite the fact your heartbeat had skipped a full chord. “Noted. And for the record, now I know you aren’t boring,” you added, teasing, playfully nudging your shoulder with his. “You’re just… private. Or mysterious. A sardonic brick wall, if you will.”

It successfully had him looking up, a light-hearted scoff slipping past his lips - you could see the relief in his facial traits. “I’ll take mysterious. It’s better than boring.”

When you got into your hotel room, Oscar slipped past your door as he normally would, and you collapsed onto the bed with your legs tangled together like always─ but something was different now. The air around the mattress was slower, stuck in time, warm in the way his breath ghosted over the nape of your neck when he settled beside you, eyes already fluttering shut.

For the first time since this whole agreement began, you had to consciously remind yourself that it wasn’t real. The comfort in your chest wasn’t made to stay. The steady rhythm of his breathing next to yours, the way your body naturally molded into the other─ it was all pretend. 

At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.

Like silk curtains flowing with the breeze, the change was discreet but there nonetheless, in the shared silences that felt less like pauses and more like instances captured with a polaroid. There was hesitation, once again, but unlike the one you chased away before─ in how you touched, how you laughed, how you glanced at each other and closed the gap under the bright flashes. You were both tiptoeing around something fragile and new.

Neither of you said anything, but it was something too heavy not to notice─ at least, you hoped Oscar did as well: the reluctant awareness of how hazy the lines had started to get and the stunned realization that maybe they’d never really been that straight to begin with after Oscar’s tipsy confession in Spain. You were still doing everything to showcase your relationship to the media, Theodore’s presence in the paddock still overwhelmingly present and Oscar’s popularity sky-rocketing. You were still holding hands and tucking yourself to his side in the garage between two meetings, carefully weaving the continuation of the story you made up together. Yet, when no one was watching, it didn’t feel as plastic. Not when Oscar whispered in the crevice of your ear in a crowded room, or when your heart jumped at the sound of his laugh. When it started to hurt, just a little, when he pulled away.

The day he called you at five in the morning from Canada was confirmation enough. The switch from the heat of Spain to the rainy weather of the United Kingdom for work had taken its toll on you, and you had to call in sick for the Montreal race weekend. Tucked in your covers with a cup of coffee and an inability to sleep due to your clogged nose, you watched your phone screen lit up with his name. You answered with a hoarse, “Why are you awake?”

Oscar chuckled, his voice slightly muffled by the hotel air conditioning in the background. “Why are you?”

“Respiratory betrayal,” you said, dragging your blanket further up your chin. “What’s your excuse? The race’s tomorrow.”

You talked about everything and nothing for a little while. Oscar told you how the track felt a little underwhelming, how the social media team messed up with their main Instagram account, and of Lando’s endless complaining about the lack of your presence─ apparently, the paddock was too quiet now. You nodded in your pillow with a smile like he could see you.

Eventually, the conversation drifted away, like it always did now. Oscar asked what you were listening to lately and you told him of a song that sounded like spring and reminded you of long drives at night, especially the instance when he drove you home after Monaco. He said it sounded like something you’d play to get out of your own head. You said it was. He told you about this stupid childhood habit he had of organizing cereal boxes in alphabetical order and you laughed so hard it triggered a coughing fit.

Oscar’s voice dropped. “I wish you were here.”

It wasn’t dramatic or purposeful in the slightest. He said it as if he was realizing it at the same time he pronounced the words. It was your case too when you answered, “Yeah, me too.”

Your chest ached, because there was no camera to capture the softness of the moment and you just found out you preferred it that way.

And then you came back for the Austrian Grand Prix. You didn’t see Oscar much that weekend. You’d barely touched the ground before you were swallowed whole by emails, debriefs, documents you missed during your sick leave and Theodore side-eyeing you every time you so much as coughed next to him. There was no time for soft moments, not even time to stop and just glance at Oscar even if you wanted to.

He crossed the line in P1 that day. You were mid-conversation with Zak, animated with excitement even during your lengthy talk about the following media duties, when arms pulled you in so strongly you lost track of what you were saying. You recognized him by touch alone: Oscar was wrapped around you, body sweaty and warm from his maddened laps. He held the helmet in his hand, still catching his breath when his head dropped on your shoulder. 

“You’re back,” he said, voiced laced with something a lot like relief.

“Of course I’m back,” you whispered back, fingers twitching on the back of his race suit. He sounded like you were gone for years and somehow, it really did feel like it. You could’ve stayed there for hours, you thought, until Zak obnoxiously cleared his throat next to you.

Oscar pulled back, eyes brighter than his usual post-race exhaustion, the glint of something you couldn’t name just yet dancing in his pupils. His hands came to rest on your wrist, barely brushing your hands. “Stay with me?” He asked, and your heart might have stopped just there. Realizing how it sounded, Oscar quickly corrected, “For the interviews. I’ve been dodging the media since you weren’t there.”

“I will,” you smiled. Your feet were already moving anyway.

He kept glancing sideways everytime the journalists asked about strategy and pace, and the little tug in your guts told your mind you were enjoying it, even though shamefully missing the feeling of the circle his thumb drew on the inside of your hand. When the interviewer asked about the less than discreet glances, making a comment on the obvious chemistry you two shared and how well you worked together─as colleagues and as a couple─Oscar didn’t laugh it off like you always practiced. He nodded, bashful and sure.

The sentence kept blinking in the back of your head like a warning sign: this was all fake. But even telling yourself that wasn’t enough anymore because your heart apparently didn’t get the memo. The touches and the sleepovers made your dreams spiral and your cheeks warm. You became his phone wallpaper for authenticity and his picture became yours as well without as much as a second thought, every little attention as natural as the cycle of seasons.

You were falling for your own fake dating ruse. Which meant you were quietly, miserably falling for Oscar Piastri in the process, in the realest and most literal way known to man. That was terrifying.

Never, in your short but hectic PR career, had you ever experienced that.

Not the newfound feelings you were harboring for your fake boyfriend, no. You tried your best to think about that as little as possible─ if you didn’t look at them, maybe they wouldn’t look back. Right now, you were talking about the diplomatic ambush you and the F1 grid and staff just walked into. The hotel hosting the drivers and half the sport’s staff for the Silverstone weekend had decided to organize a charity gala. Last minute. Mandatory, if you had any desire to keep your reputation intact.

It was a smart move─ brilliant, even: Host a fancy event for a cause, pick a night when the entire motorsport world is under your roof, and leak just enough information to the press so no one can afford to skip it. Declining? Not donating? Refusing to schmooze with the hotel owners? You’d be crucified online by breakfast. Genius, really. You respected the play. 

But damn, give a girl some warning. You didn’t have anything to wear.

Apparently it was the case of everyone else as well, which made you feel less self-conscious. When you walked out your hotel room the morning of FP3 and qualifying, the hallway wasn’t buzzing with race talk but with chaotic murmurs about last-minute outfits, shoes emergency and the drama of Max Verstappen only packing team merch─ which, much to his dismay, was absolutely excluded from the dress code.

You were promptly swept away by a group of female staff members from different teams, mostly working in comms or PR, determined to save you from showing up in jeans and a prayer after a heated conversation around the breakfast table. It turned into a surprisingly wholesome mission: shared complaints, budding friendships, and a chorus of tender laughter when you found the dress. “Your boyfriend’s going to be a happy man!” one of the older women teased, earning cackles from the others and a fiery blush from you.

You were, admittedly, very lucky─ as much as someone in a fake relationship could be.

Especially when Oscar knocked on your hotel door later that evening, fresh from his post-quali shower, hair a little messy, still buttoning up the blazer of his suit and eyes flickering with something unreadable when you opened the door, ready.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t expecting a reaction. When you were tearing down your skin with your scented body scrub and carefully smoking out your eyeliner in the mirror, you told yourself it was for you only─ but faced with Oscar’s eyes roaming over you, you knew you were clearly lying to yourself.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He silently took you in, and you feared that maybe you didn’t achieve the effect you hoped for. Maybe a hair was out of place, or the dress looked awkward on you. But Oscar’s lips parted in a discreet intake of breath and the way his mind blanked out was painfully visible on his features. Quietly, “You look…” He trailed off, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck as if he could try to scrub off the red climbing out of his collar. “You look really nice.”

Really nice. That wasn’t quite what you expected, but his reaction was telling enough for you and knowing Oscar, you knew you weren’t getting anything more unless he was under a copious amount of alcohol or sleep-deprivation. You rolled your eyes at him, biting back a satisfied smile. “You don’t look half bad either.”

And he did. Devastatingly so. His suit was tailored within an inch of its life, cinched right at the waist and the lapels hugging his chest, his frame striking in the color. It was all very James Bond of him, minus the reckless charm─ though tonight, he seemed to be toeing the line. Your gaze dropped to his tie, and your fingers twitched at your side when you realized the shade was an exact match to your dress. You hadn’t said anything about your outfit ahead of time so you didn’t believe it was on purpose, but when your eyes met his again, there was a flash of something knowing and boyish─ almost proud that you noticed.

“Come on,” Oscar finally broke the silence. “You’re setting the bar too high. Everyone’s going to think I’m the lucky one tonight.”

“That’s because you are.”

The hallway was quiet as you two walked down together. You could feel it again─ that invisible thread pulling tighter, a weightless tension lodging in your chest and the incessant smile pulling at your lips. This was fake. Totally fake, you repeated to yourself again as you stepped with Oscar in the elevator, arm slithering around his bicep, ready to make your entrance.

The hotel hall was drenched in gaudy decorations, shimmering chandeliers and overly sparkly dresses, the kind of excessive elegance that only made sense in photoshoots and unnecessarily overpriced galas. Everywhere you looked, sequins caught the light and laughter echoed over the clink of crystal glasses. You weren’t in your element at all, Oscar wasn’t either and clearly, none of the drivers or the team principals who showed up wanted to be there. But in the name of keeping up appearances, you spent the evening with Oscar and a glass of champagne, stepping on his foot from time to time for old time’s sake. You knew how to mingle, after all it was everything you studied for four years.

You drifted through conversations in tandem. His hand stayed on the small of your back, occasionally brushing lower in ways that felt more unconscious than performative, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. When you’d lean into him to talk, he always dipped his head to hear you better on instinct. When Lando started tagging along, he was quick to complain about third-wheeling.

The whole evening was spent like that: finding amusement where you could in the middle of obligations, which was often spent sending sharp comments Oscar’s way, which amused him greatly, or Lando’s with Oscar’s help, which definitely amused him less. But gossiping could only get you so far, and soon enough the height of the heels you chose and the weighty ambience was enough to uncomfortably tighten your ribcage. You were quick to excuse yourself to the empty entry of the hotel, where you collapsed on a chair with a sigh.

You took a slow sip of your almost empty glass, letting the fizz of the bubbles distract you from the uncomfortable twist in your chest. Oscar would have followed you if you didn’t ask for some alone time, and God knows you needed some away from him. You were trying to find a distraction, anything to make you stop thinking about the brush of his fingertips or how you could have sworn his gaze lingered a second too long on your lips when you laughed at one of his jokes.

You didn’t expect, and especially didn’t want, Theodore to be that distraction.

His voice cut through the fog. “Tired?”

The glass nearly slipped from your fingers. Your body tensed, and you jumped to your feet out of reflex, ready to leave at any given moment. “Oh wow, didn’t mean to scare you like that,” he raised his hand in mock surrender. You rolled your eyes.

Theodore had the same haircut, same smug face, same cologne that lingered like melted plastic. The longer you looked at him, the longer of an eyesore he became─ nothing about him stood out: not his suit, the false casual way he was holding his blazer in his hands, and certainly not his demeanor. You couldn’t help but draw a silent comparison to Oscar.

That’s when you realized: you hadn’t seen much of Theodore the past week around the paddock. You hadn’t paid a lot of attention to his presence in general, too caught up in Oscar and the torment of your own conflicting feelings to even grace him with acknowledgement. You voiced the first part of your thought, casually sipping your drink.

His expression tightened as he forced a smile. “Ah. Yeah, well, they… they let me go. Budget cuts, you see.”

It took all your will and decency not to explode in laughter. Budget cuts. Ah, yes. Incompetence must have had a change of definition in the Oxford Dictionary recently. “So… why are you here?”

“My dad knows the hotel owner. I got an invite last minute.”

“Oh,” you said with a mocking tilt of the head. “So nepotism and unemployment. Got it.” The fake niceness you sported on during your first interaction at the start of the season had vanished out of thin air─ you weren’t going to put up with this pathetic excuse of a man any longer than you had to, precisely now that you had no reason to anymore.

Theodore laughed. Your hand prickled with the need to punch him in the nose. “You know, it’s not even that important that I lost my job at McLaren.” Said no one ever, you thought. How far did his privileges go? “I─ well, I only took it up because I learned you were working there. I thought… maybe if I was around again, we could fix things.”

You must have hit your head, this had to be a fever dream. The words reaching your ears made no sense to you whatsoever. 

“Fix─?” You scoffed, eyes widening. “That job was supposed to be your redemption arc? Is that it? Oh my god, Theo. You slept with my best friend and you thought I’d fall back in your arms because you barged into my career?”

“I made a mistake─”

“You made a choice,” you spat.

“I didn’t think it would matter this much to you!”

“Did I not cry enough the first time or do you want me to reenact it? Were you really hoping I’ll welcome you with open arms, open legs and a memory loss?”

“Well─”

“Don’t answer that. Actually, stop talking.”

Theodore threw his arms in the air, taking a step forward as he hurled his jacket on the chair you sat on a few minutes ago. “I just thought maybe seeing me again would remind you of what we’ve had!”

Rage and indignation alike rose in your throat like vomit, and your hands shook imperceptibly as you answered. “It did. It reminded me that what we had was never good enough to keep me from building something better. So thanks for the little nostalgia trip, but I’ll pass.”

Something in Theodore’s gaze darkened, dangerous and petulant, and before you could step back, he leaned in. “Oh, I get it now,” he snarled at you, voice dropping into something bitter. “It’s because of Piastri, isn’t it?”

“Back off, Theodore.” Your back had straightened instinctively. Discomfort crept under your skin like cold water─ you didn’t like the way he hissed his name and how close he was getting.

He didn’t back away. Instead, he took another step. “Didn’t realize you’d fall for the first man who gave you attention after me. Guess I underestimated how lonely you─”

“Everything alright there?”

His voice, warm and familiar, sliced through the tension and your shoulders slumped in relief. Oscar.

He was standing just behind Theodore, who turned around comically slow. Oscar’s expression was unreadable. You never saw him angry, but you did know how to recognize the calm before a storm.

“Yeah,” Theodore answered, too fast. “Just… catching up.”

Oscar’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I think you’ve done enough catching up for tonight.”

He walked toward you, and you subtly stepped to his side, his heat grounding in the absurdity of the situation. He didn’t look at you─ his eyes were locked on Theodore’s, cold and measured. “If you’ve said your piece,” he started, “I think you should head back to whatever table your father pulled strings to get you to.”

Theodore scoffed, his features twisting into something ugly, but he didn’t push his luck. He wouldn’t be winning this fight. After a beat of tense silence, he turned and stormed off the entry hall, muttering something beneath his breath you didn’t bother catching.

The moment he was out of sight, you could feel the rigidity in your body melt away. You hadn’t even realized how tightly you’d been wound until now, standing frozen in place. You reached out instinctively, gripping Oscar’s sleeve in order to keep you on your feet. “Shit,” you whispered. “I didn’t expect him.”

Oscar’s hand closed gently over yours and how thumb drew slow circles across your knuckles. You could feel his eyes on you attentively. “You okay?”

You sniffled, breathing fast as a breathy, nervous laugh slipped past your lips. “God.” You wiped your cheek, pausing when you saw the glint of moisture on your fingers, “I didn’t even realize I was crying.”

Oscar didn’t say anything right away─ he reached up with his other hand and brushed your tear track, cradling your cheek with the gentlest touch, like you’d break if he pressed too hard. “He’s a real dick,” he murmured, brows drawing together. “Trust me, he’s never coming near you again.”

That made you laugh─ quiet, and undeniably tired, but real. You looked up at him, something vulnerable sitting openly between you now. “Thanks for stepping in,” you breathed out. “You know, you’re awfully good at being a fake boyfriend. You nailed the attitude down.” You tried to make light of the situation, but the words stung when you got them out. You regretted uttering them as soon as you felt the frail openness in the air retract. Something in Oscar’s eyes dimmed a little, but they didn’t move from yours. 

“Always, that’s my job,” his tone dripped with a strange kind of acerbity. “Now, let’s get you to your room. I think we’re done for the night.”

You couldn’t agree more.

The way to your room was spent in silence, apart from the click of your heels on the carpet and the faint sound of breathing. The quiet was now oppressing, seeping with an anxiety that took you back to when he shook your hand in a similar hotel room a few months ago. When you released his arm as you reached your door, you half-expected him to mutter a polite goodnight and disappear at the end of the hallway.

Instead, Oscar leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets. “Can I ask you something?”

You gave a small nod.

“What made you say yes to him?” He asked. Faced with your confused expression, he clarified, gaze flicking down. “Theodore. Why did you date him?”

There wasn’t a trace of judgment in his voice, just a searching sort of curiosity. The answer sat heavy on your tongue, unfamiliar and painful, but still, the question pulled something sharp through your chest─ you didn’t know why you were suddenly so self-conscious about it. 

“I’d like to say I don’t know but…,” you leaned back against the wall next to him, folding your arms to hold yourself together and eyes fixed on a point somewhere past his figure. “I think… I was tired. I used to put everything into school, so much that I skipped out on everything else. I didn’t even know who I was beside the pressure and achievements, and Theodore… just happened to be there during that confusing time of my life. My roommate’s, and ex-best friend’s, friend. I thought he was charming, in his own sort of way. He was persistent, used to leave flowers by my dorm room every morning.” You chuckled sadly. “They weren’t even my favorite - turns out they were hers.”

You heard Oscar exhale. “It still made me feel noticed, like I mattered to something outside of studies. Like someone actually saw me, you know? So I fell in love. And turns out he didn’t see me at all─ he sure as hell doesn’t now either, if he thought showering Zak with dollar bills and side-eyeing me across the paddock would be enough to win me back. That’s without mentioning the cheating.”

The silence of the hallway was deafening, your words echoing against the walls. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just dense. Until Oscar broke it.

“I don’t get it,” he murmured, “how anyone could cheat on you. It doesn’t make sense.”

It made you look at him. You’ve gotten used to turning around and finding his eyes already on you; it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise, but your chest still tightened when you met the darkness of his irises. You waited for him to reply, lacking any explanation yourself of why it couldn’t meet the simple principles of logic in his head, why he couldn’t find the flaws in you that lead Theodore to another woman.

Oscar’s answer came under a different form. “For what it’s worth,” he said, gaze steady. “I like to think I see you.”

You blinked. “Do you?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it, and the moment it did, the answer came rushing in. He did. You knew it in the way his head tilted slightly to the side, like he was still trying to see more of you, even now.

Oscar knew your coffee order by heart, the temperature and how much milk to ask for when you were too tired to speak it aloud. He knew which bakery carried your favorite pastry and what time he had to sneak away from media duties to grab it for you─ especially when the paddock version tasted like cardboard. He noticed when your hands got cold before you did, kept spare hand warmers in his bag in colder countries because “you’re always freezing.” He sent you stupid memes during long flights because he knew take offs made it hard for you to sit still. He carried spare glitter gel pens in his bag, and never teased you about it─ just handed you another one when you absentmindedly noticed yours was running out.

He remembered that you always got motion sick if you sat in the backseat of a car for too long. That you needed silence when thinking. That you hummed when you were concentrating and tapped your pen when you weren’t.

And suddenly, you weren’t just asking if he saw you the way you’d always wanted to. You were asking if he’d always been seeing you, even when you weren’t looking.

“I do,” he answered, barely above a whisper.

You nodded. There couldn’t be anything more true than that.

Just like that, the air tilted. Toward him, engulfing you both in a fragile, sacred space. Everything narrowed down to Oscar and the small buzz between your two bodies─ dense and electric, full of every feeling that had been lurking beneath the surface. His eyes flickered to your lips for the briefest of seconds. Back to your eyes. 

He moved subtly, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him, the idea of losing the moment scarier than not having it at all. Your body was still, breath hitching and heart racing, as his hand reached up to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone, memorizing the shape.

And when he finally leaned in, he hesitated just inches from your lips, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath and the tremble in yours. “Is this okay?” He whispered.

You closed the space.

The kiss was gentle at first─ careful and tentative. The gentle, kind sweep of two people trying to find their footing, but the electric shock of the feeling brought everything back to you: the months of tension, the stolen glances, the fumbled excuses to stay close. Your mouths crashed over each other, deepening in the split of a second, slow and aching in the pants you let out and the touch of roaming, curious hands. You breathed into his mouth, seeking his air to make it yours.

Oscar’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and your back flush against the wall as your fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket. You could feel his heart hammering under your palm, fast and desperate, mirroring yours. His tongue demandingly slipped past your lips, and he kissed you like he had wanted to for a long time, and there was no denying he had. Raw and needy, you felt stripped bare by the small whine he let out when you bit down on his bottom lip.

You thought, the world could fall apart tomorrow and this would have been everything you needed to go peacefully.

When you finally pulled apart, both breathless, he didn’t move far. You wouldn’t have let him anyways, the heat of his body too comfortable, the weight of his mouth branded on your own. His forehead rested against yours, eyes closed and lips swollen.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he whispered, voice hoarse and rough with honesty.

You fingers tightened in his jacket, and you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. “Trust me, I think I do.” He laughed against your lips and you kissed him again. Because after all of it─all the pretending, the teasing, the overthinking─you didn’t have to lie to yourself anymore, to convince yourself. You couldn’t make up the way he was kissing you back.

Yet, you still went to bed alone.

You hadn't planned on it─ well, not exactly. After the emotional whirlwind of the evening, the kiss, the honesty, the confession, you’d invited Oscar into your room without really thinking. It had been an instinct, comfort-driven by the nights already spent together, even if everything was entirely different─ including your intentions and his. But Lando had to barge in, clumsily looking for his room next to yours, doing a double-take at the sight of you tucked into Oscar’s side, your makeup smudged from tears and kisses like a hormonal teenager, Oscar looking all too rumpled and embarrassed next to you.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered. “I’m just─ you know what, we’ll unpack that later. Good night. Please don’t make too much noise.”

Oscar laughed, arms wrapping tighter around your waist when your friend disappeared, whispering, “I’ll come back tomorrow. After I take you out on a date. A real one, this time.”

You’d smiled. “You better.” He kissed you again, quick and soft and annoyingly perfect, more than your dreams made it out to be, and you went to bed glowing, with his name lighting your phone screen with sweet nothings and promises of conversations tomorrow.

But tomorrow never came, because the knocks that woke you up were giving you a sickening déjà-vu. They were urgent, a trumpet announcing the complete turning of your world just like they had done a few months back, in February, and loud enough to slice through the sleepiness in your bones along with the drowsy haze of your mind.

You got up with difficulty and barely had the time to wrap a blanket around yourself before answering the door. You half-expected to find the Grim Reaper himself waiting on the other side with how early it was for anyone else to be knocking. Instead, you were faced with Oscar. Your heart gave a small, automatic jolt when you saw him. After how last night ended, he should have been the best thing possible to wake up to.

The expression on his face stopped you cold.

Oscar, who rarely wore his emotions so plainly, looked visibly shaken. The sharp lines of his face were pulled tight with worry, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. And that─more than the hour, more than the knocks─was what stopped you from throwing yourself into his arms.

You opened the door wider to let him in, which he did with hurried steps. “What’s happening?”

“Can you close the door first?” You did without much of a question.

Oscar sat on the edge of your bed, phone cradled in hand. He looked up at you, and distressed wasn’t enough to describe it─ he looked wrecked. “Have you checked your phone this morning?” He asked.

Dread pooled in your stomach. “No, I─ I just woke up,” you answered. “Oscar, I─”

“Someone leaked it. Our agreement, the fake dating. It’s all out.”

The world tipped.

The air in your lungs vanished and, for a moment, all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. His words repeated like static, a taunting echo getting louder and louder the more you realized what it meant. “What?” You whispered, eyes locked on his. The truth could have looked different there, but didn’t.

You sat down next to him, every limb leaden, cinching the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “How─? Who even─? We were so careful and─”

“Nobody knows, they’re searching for it right now,” Oscar replied, but it came out strained. “Everyone's trying to trace it now, but it landed on DeuxMoi and basically everywhere after that. They’ve got… receipts. Pictures, testimonies, photos- and a very incriminating audio recording.”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “Of you. Saying something like… how good of a fake boyfriend I am. From last night, before we went up.”

Your stomach flipped. “But─ we were alone.”

Different scenarios flashed in your mind, engulfing you both in a spiral of questions and worry. Someone could have been filming you, and the lights were too low to spot the silhouette. Maybe Theodore’s jacket, draped over the chair you’d sat on, had a recording device on it in an attempt to prove himself something, or to get revenge on you. But how would he have guessed? There were so many possibilities, and Oscar’s silence didn’t help you feel any better about any of them─ not knowing burned hotter than the betrayal itself.

He took your hand in his, your intertwined fingers resting between the two of you. The contact made you flinch.

Your breath came out in a shaky exhale. “I mean… it was going to end anyways, right?” Oscar’s frown deepened, so you pushed forward. “The whole relationship. Theodore left. That was the plan, wasn’t it? It wasn’t supposed to last past him. It’s a very shitty way to end, sure, but… you can work with it.” You were tearing up by the time the last word left your lips.

Oscar winced. His grip on your hand tightened. “Don’t say it like that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” You let out a wet, pathetic laugh. “It’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, and it sounded a lot like a plea. “We can figure something out─ Zak, the rest of the PR team-someone will know what to do, there-”

You scoffed─ not at him, never, but at the cruel absurdity of it all. Your incapability of keeping something good for yourself. “You don’t get it, Oscar.” Your voice wavered. “Apparently, we’re everywhere. There’s an audio recording. People feel like they’ve been made fools of. They won’t forgive that so easily─ they’ll turn on you. They won’t believe in something that’s already been exposed as fake, even if─”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Because that was the worst part, wasn't it? You weren’t faking it anymore. Neither of you were, and hadn’t been for a really long time. You could have stumbled around, trying to figure out what it meant, searching his mouth and holding on to the feeling long enough to put a name on it, but the headlines didn’t give you that chance. They took it from you, carved it out of your hands before you even got to claim it as yours.

A beat.

“It was real for me,” Oscar said. “It is.”

You looked at him, the details of his eyes that made promises you were sure he could have kept under different circumstances. You tried to smile, but your face cracked under the weight of it, tear tracks shining under the early morning light. “They don’t know that,” you whispered. “They won’t care.”

Oscar’s gaze fell on the floor, and you shook your head gently. “You still have a career to protect. Just say it was my idea, you were helping me out and I got you into all of this─ which is the truth, technically. You just got too caught up. They’ll forgive you eventually, they’re here for the racing.”

“And what about you?”

The silence spoke for itself, heavy with the undeflectable nature of the situation. Carefully, as to not startle him, you took back the hand he was holding and folded both of them on your lap. There would be no other outcome to this story. “I’ll figure it out. It’s my job.”

He didn’t believe you, you could see it in the lopsided curve of his mouth, the prominent vein near his temple you traced with your eyes before falling asleep. You realized you never had the opportunity to pass a night in his arms.

“You go get ready for your race, Oscar. Don’t worry about me.” Your chest ached as your mouth shaped the words, barely hearing them yourself. The only thing that mattered was the low lights in the Australians’ eyes, how his mouth opened and closed around something. He never said whatever was pending at the edge of his tongue, but he closed his eyes when you put your lips on the skin of his cheek.

Oscar just left quietly, in the imperceptible click of a hotel door. You couldn’t watch him go─ if you did, you might not have had the strength to let him.

You were let go by McLaren before the race even began.

The decision had been clear from the get-go. Still, it didn’t make sitting in that sterile room any easier knowing the lanyard around your neck would be up to grab for someone else in seconds. It wasn’t cruel or personal─ it was just business.

You spent over three hours with members of staff, going over the facts and projected damage. You nodded along and asked questions you could predict the answers to, but the conclusion was written into the walls: the scandal was too loud, and you weren’t quiet enough to survive it─ at least, not with a badge that read McLaren on your chest.

You gave it back, sliding it over the table to the chief of staff. They booked you a flight home as discreetly as they could manage and it wasn’t until you stepped in your apartment, suitcase dropped by the door and keys shaking in your hand, that the overwhelming silence caught up with you.

And with it, everything else.

Your face was headlining the front pages of multiple websites and you’d just lost the best job you’ll ever have─ if not the only one, because a simple search would now lead every possible employer to the failed scheme you tried to put up.

You collapsed onto your bed, entirely dressed and only one shoe off, still wrapped in the airport chill. They made you hand-over your team-issued phone, along with the contacts of everyone that mattered back at Silverstone. You didn’t even have a chance to explain yourself or to say goodbye.

Oscar would finish the race and find out you vanished, and you had no way of telling him 

You let the weight of it all crash down on you.

If you had to estimate, you’d say you let yourself rot in your own misery for about a week, give or take. You weren't counting the days, but you knew you hadn’t opened your curtains since you got home. Your eyes were red, rubbed raw every time another wave of emotion struck you, and you hadn’t so much as looked in a mirror. Instead, you moved through your apartment like a ghost, sidestepping your own reflection as if it might reach out and confirm what you already knew─ you’d lost something you didn’t realize mattered this much until it was gone.

The past year had been everything. You successfully worked your way into a world that worked too fast for second chances where you found a rhythm, built friendships and connections. As tiresome as the lifestyle could sometimes be, you fell in love with what you were doing and what you came to be. In the past months, your life had mirrored the tracks─ swift and brutal, with enough turns to break a few wheels. Now, you were left with nothing but the emptiness in your stomach and for someone who always strived for more, the bitter aftertaste in your mouth was enough to keep you from wanting.

Your wake-up call came in the form of your rent.

Turns out heartbreak didn’t pause rent or the cost of groceries rising due to inflation. McLaren paid well, but not well enough so that you could afford to disappear off the grid and wallow in self pity with your last check. So you did what you always did, reminiscent of your past college superhuman efforts: you opened your laptop and got to work.

You applied to everything you set your eyes on─ LinkedIn, obscure websites, Facebook Ads, no one was safe. You didn’t dare touch anything remotely F1 related, or even F2, F3 or F4, the wound was still fresh and your name was probably too much of a touchy subject for you to be accepted anywhere near. You stuck to motorsports-adjacent companies, agencies, development programs, even local circuits. Just… something, anything that would let you keep your toes in the world you loved.

Eventually, it came.

A small karting company in the Netherlands, of all places. Barely enough to fill a spreadsheet on a good day, but they had promising talents and were expanding, so in need of someone to help build their communications structure from the ground up. Preferably someone who knew how to handle press and build narratives, connect people to stories. They were desperate, which means they probably didn’t even look you up when they interviewed you. You took the opportunity with your first real smile in a minute.

It wasn’t as glamorous. The office had flickering lights, and you hadn’t come with the most adapted wardrobe. But it was something─ so you got to work.

You were surprised by how much you ended up loving it.

The people were awkward but nice, you went out with a few of your colleagues by the end of your first week, and the kids racing under your name were awfully sweet and their parents just as kind. The work wasn’t overbearing, but you put every ounce of your attention in building its perfect image with your team. Your new apartment was small and comfortable, and the city you settled in a neverending discovery of wonders. You felt fine─ which was a step away from the state you had been in not so long ago.

But even though you tried to build yourself another life, you still couldn’t shake the memory of Oscar. He was still there─ not in person, but in every memory you were not capable of erasing just yet. You caught yourself ordering his coffee order alongside yours as a force of habit, and accidentally took the notebooks with the overly precise details of your fallacious history with you to work. There was so much of him in you now, you had trouble picking apart the pieces. You scanned articles for his face but skipped race reports in case his name hurt more to see.

You tried to bury the ache in your schedule and the excitement of the company’s mediatic expansion, you wrote press releases, attended networking events with a tight smile and let small wins feel bigger than they were. Yet you knew your heart was sitting in his hands, thousands miles away- and you refused to wonder if, without knowing, you were still holding his. It was a hope you couldn’t entertain, all in the name of letting go. It was an act of healing of some sorts. Putting Oscar behind you was growth, not grief, and letting go of something that had no chance of being anymore was the most adult thing you’d ever do.

Except you have a history of your past catching up with you─ deep down, you should’ve known this time wouldn’t be any different.

It happened when you bumped into someone on your way out the café, hands full with the Communications team’s comically large coffee order. It was the end of August, and your mind was anywhere but on the street─ mostly focused on not spilling anything. Of course, that’s what made the crash even more cinematic.

Cold drinks flew in the air, splattering across the pavement and down your pants in dramatic, sticky rivulets. You were halfway into a curse when someone said your name in an all-too-familiar voice.

“Y/N?” You looked up from your drenched legs, and there he was.

Lando Norris in the flesh, unruly mullet and all. “Oh my god,” you muttered, halfway between disbelief and horror. “Hi?”

He stared at you like he was trying to convince himself he wasn’t hallucinating. You’d feel offended if you couldn’t understand where he was coming from- you did disappear suddenly, those two months ago. “You’re─ holy shit, what are you doing here?”

You awkwardly wiped your hands on the napkin that came with the order, glancing at the wasted money on the ground. “Clearly failing my duties. I work for a karting company just outside the city. Communications consultant.”

“No way, seriously? In the Netherlands?” Lando asked, eyebrows shooting up. “That’s… kind of awesome.”

You gave him an awkward smile. “Yeah. It’s not McLaren, sure, but I like it there.”

The mention of the team brought an icy breeze to the conversation and had Lando shuffling on his feet before you changed the subject. “And what are you doing here?” You asked, too enthusiastic for it to be spontaneous.

“Zandvoort race this weekend,” he answered with a slight grin.

“Oh, true.” With the drastic changes in your life and the newfound popularity the company had gained, you’d forgotten all about the fast-paced calendar you had become so accustomed with. The fact there was even a race taking place in the Netherlands, despite Max Verstappen being Dutch, had completely slipped your mind.

It should feel like a win, but your heart twisted to punish you.

Faced with another silence, Lando spoke up again. “You know, it’s not the same without you there, Oscar’s new PR manager is an old man.” That made you chuckle, although bittersweet. “We miss you. A lot.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words. The air suddenly felt a bit thinner in your lungs than it did a few minutes ago. “He shouldn’t,” was all you could manage to reply in the tightening of your throat.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, forcing your voice to stay level. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It ended. He has to focus on his career.”

Lando opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it, only giving you an hesitant smile in return. “Well… I’ll tell him I saw you. If you want.”

“No,” You shook your head with a soft laugh. “No. Just… good luck, alright? For the Grand Prix.”

It got Lando to smile wider, at least, something warm in the spreading of his lips. “Thanks. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad I bumped into you. Let me make up for the spilled coffee.”

He did. Brought the entire order again and handed it over with a sheepish shrug, reminiscent of the friend you had two months ago, before disappearing down the cobblestone street. You stood there a bit too long, dazed by the improbability of it all. The universe decided to shake you a little, but somehow it had to be just when you made peace with the fact it had moved on without you.

You went back to the karting center where reality demanded your full attention. The rest of the day passed in a blur of last-minute adjustments─ tomorrow, you were hosting a little event in order to showcase the rising talents driving in your colors, which needed your immediate attention, no matter how divided by the episode this morning. You didn’t even notice everyone else leaving until the sun dipped below the horizon, painting gold across the windows and casting long shadows on the now-empty space.

You exhaled slowly, closing your computer and feeling the soreness in your back from being hunched over too long. The cons of being a workaholic, you guessed, but you’d done your part. You gathered your things, slid your jackets over your shoulders, and stepped out into the cooling evening.

You could have missed him if you hadn’t hesitated a second too long in the doorway, but you could also recognize Oscar anywhere, eyes closed or blindfolded.

He was leaning against a car, parked a few meters away from the entrance, hoodie loose around his shoulders and hair tousled by the breeze. His gaze was distant, unfocused as he was watching the distance. The second the door thudded shut behind you, the sound cutting through the quiet evening, his eyes snapped up, finding yours.

He looked lost, beautifully so. It froze you in your tracks. It didn’t seem to have the same effect on Oscar, as he pushed off the car and took careful steps forward.

“Hi,” was all he said, soft and steady.

You hadn't realized how much you missed the silken casualness of his voice before it reached your ears. It hit you harder than you’d expected. “How─?”

“Lando,” Oscar cut in gently. “He said you worked at a karting company near the city. I… looked it up. Thought maybe, with a little chance, you’d still be here.” He scratched the back of his neck and he looked away for a second, just one, before his eyes snapped back to yours.

Neither of you moved, unsure how to cross the canyon that had cracked open between you.

“I wasn’t expecting…” You trailed off.

“Yeah,” Oscar breathed out a humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Me neither. It was, uh, pretty impulsive. But I couldn’t just…” He trailed off too, shaking his head.

You nodded, even though you didn’t understand. This whole conversation made no sense. “How’s it going? Life, I mean. At McLaren?” you asked, desperate to ignore your heart clawing at your ribs.

Oscar’s lips thinned. “Fine. Busy.”

“That’s good.”

He took a step closer, so very little you could have missed, and so slow it gave you the opportunity to step back. You didn’t take it. “And you? How’s─ all this?”

“It’s… something. I like it. I do.” You laughed, and it came out wrong.

“I’m glad.”

Silence fell, weighty on your shoulders. You didn’t know what to do, and you couldn’t guess how to act when Oscar looked so closed off, out of reach─ something he hadn’t been to you in a long while. You chose to let it stretch, unsure of what else.

Finally, it came down to Oscar. “You left.”

The words stung with the strength of a slap, and heartbreaking enough to put you back in front of your apartment door, two months back. You gripped the hem of your jacket, bringing it closer to your body in hope to substitute for the warmth his tone lacked. You inhaled sharply, fighting the sting behind your eyes.

“I didn’t have a choice. They made it very clear there was no place for me anymore, and it would be the better option for one of us to come out unscathed.” Your voice faltered despite your best efforts. “I didn’t want to leave that way, Oscar. Not without saying goodbye.”

You couldn’t help the comment that bordered on your lips. “But I figured you weren’t too concerned. You didn’t look too hard to reach me either.” Not an e-mail, no nothing. You were deprived of his contact information due to your work phone being taken away, but he wasn’t. 

Oscar’s hands curled into fists at his side. “I couldn’t. If I did, they assured me it could make everything worse if someone leaked it again, for the both of us.” A scoff escaped him. “Told me I had to wait until they found the person who took the audio recording in the first place before I could try anything.”

“And did they?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I don’t really care.”

Again, he took a step forward. Oscar was close, not overly, but close enough for you to see the wild and desperate edge etched in his delicate traits, regardless of how much he tried to hide it. “I wanted to reach out. Every day. I just─” He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I thought that’s what you wanted. I kept thinking that maybe you hated me for how it ended, or─ maybe you regretted it.”

Your laugh broke out sharp and ugly, more hurt than anything else. “Hated you? Regretted it?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Oscar, how could you even think-?”

He didn’t interrupt you. You had to do it yourself, because Oscar just watched as if waiting for a confirmation between the lines. “You really think I’d regret you?”

He still didn’t move. “I mean…,” he finally rasped out, barely carrying over the wind, “it cost you your career in F1. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I cost me my career, Oscar. Not you. The fake relationship was my idea. I told you from the beginning I’d take the fall if it came to it. You were just helping me.”

You watched his jaw contract with the need to argue back, but you wouldn’t let him. Oscar was wrong on all accounts in his reasoning, blinded by whatever had been clouding his mind during your disappearance, and you were making sure it stopped there.

“I couldn’t hate you even if I tried. Well, not now at least- you were pretty insufferable at first.” His shoulders shook in the semblance of a laugh. “And if there’s anything I regret, it’s not realizing that it stopped being fake a lot sooner.”

There it was, the hefty topic you had been dancing around─ the kiss, gentle in its unearthing, and the whispered promises of explanations in the morning. Something that had been stolen from you and was now coming back to the surface for a last gasp of air. You could either take it or let it drown.

Oscar’s eyes searched yours, and for a second you believed he’d apologize and leave.

But that’s not what he did.

“It was never fake for me,” he said. “When- When you walked in and introduced yourself as my PR manager, and you were all smiles and nerves and─” he huffed, breathless, shaking his head, “and I was gone. I didn’t know how to act around you or what to do with myself.”

He got so close, you had to tilt your head to look up at him. “I kept thinking it would pass,” he continued. “That it was just a stupid fixation. But you kept being you, and you got close to Lando, and you stuck around. It just kept getting worse. Or better, I guess, depending on how you looked at it.”

“Then there was your ex,” He said, breaking into a soft laugh. “You took my arm and called me your boyfriend and all I could think was, yeah. I’d like to hear that again.” His fingers grazed the inside of your wrists, a ponctuation in his confession. “I didn’t fake a single thing. Not once. It’s been real from the beginning.”

Almost delirious, you broke into a cackle that had your hand flying to your mouth─ a half-sob, half-choke ripped from your chest. “So you were a douchebag… because you liked me?”

Oscar’s mouth quipped, sheepish. “Yeah.”

“And you acted like an idiot because you didn’t know how to show it?”

“... Yeah.” Now he sounded embarrassed.

Another watery laugh bubbled out of you, and you wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket. “Oh my god, you’re such a man,” you said, voice wobbling between amusement and heartbreak, and Oscar’s smile cracked wider at the sound of it. You sniffled, rolling your eyes to try and hide the hopeful pain in your chest as you asked, intertwining your hand with his. 

“So… what do we do now?”

The pad of his fingers trailed up your arm, sending shivers down your spine. He cupped your elbows gently, steadying you like you were at risk of breaking at any minute. “Well,” Oscar murmured, the ghost of a demand parting his mouth. “Now that we got everything out of the way, I’m here for a reason. Only if you’ll have me.”

You didn’t need any more convincing, the days spent in his company during the tired mornings  and warm nights gave you ample amounts of reasons not to deny him.

As if you had the strength to even think about it.

You surged up, and your mouth caught up with his in the same way a puzzle piece would fit into another. It felt like homecoming, how the weight of his lips balanced against yours. Oscar hands went up your sides, painfully slow, wrapped around your waist and pulled your body flushed against him. You curled your fingers in the air at the nape of his nec, tugging slightly, and he sighed into your mouth─ broken and hopelessly in love.

The world shrank to just this: the press of his chest to yours, the warmth of his skin and how intensely Oscar Piastri kissed you back.

When you broke off contact for air, Oscar chased after your mouth. You tried to contain a giggle, unsuccessfully. “I can’t believe it took a whole fake relationship, messy break up and all, for you to do and say all that,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes and before you could react, the hands resting on your hips pinched your sides. You yelped, stepping on his foot. Old habits die hard, apparently, no matter what may have transpired in between.

“Well, I think you wouldn’t have liked me as much without that fake relationship.”

“I wonder whose fault it is, Oscar.”

“I’m just saying, I─”

You kissed him again. And again, and again, until the sun was well gone and stars were the only witnesses.

That night, you made sure to take Oscar back to your apartment. There was no awkwardness in the small talk made in the car, no hesitation in your movements. It was a slow series of quiet laughs against skin, not rushed or frantic in the slightest, whispered confessions tangled between languid kisses. You were curled up against him, a blanket thrown haphazardly on your legs and you talked. The way you wanted and needed to.

He murmured you might need to lay low for a while into your hair, eyes already closing with tiredness, in order to let everything die down and you agreed, brushing his knuckles with the featherlight touch of your lips. You could always come out with the truth later on, and you were content with your life in the Netherlands─ even more so if Oscar could share it with you in some hidden place in his heart. Your palm rested over his heart, feeling his heartbeat slowing down by sleep and lulling you into Morpheus’ arms just the same.

He kissed you one more time. The taste of home and future lingered in your mouth. Oscar will be there in the morning, when the sunlight will shine through the window. And then you could discuss it, about you, more in detail around a cup of coffee, when he’ll drive you to work before disappearing in his orange car, feelings less raw and more authentic.

Real didn’t have an expiration date. You had all the time in the world to figure it out.

©LVRCLERC 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[aquilotti]

the quinnfinity stones

[ruinedchildhood-deactivated3138]

[achilles-rage]

okay but imagine being buck's neighbour, and showing up to his apartment one night because you're sad :(

he'd be so eager to comfort you <33

“he broke up with me.” you mumble as soon as buck opens the door, pushing past him and padding into his apartment.

he sees your tear stained cheeks immediately and freezes, and it’s your quiet sniffle that finally breaks him out of his haze. he closes the door and turns on his heel, following you into his space and putting a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the couch.

“what happened?” he asks you in a gentle voice. you turn and look at him again before you sit on the couch, a frown on your pretty lips, and his heart shatters.

“he was cheating on me.” is all you say. you look down, almost embarrassed to admit it, and he has to fight back a scoff. how could your idiot boyfriend possibly find someone better than you? it completely baffles him, but he pushes it to the side; you obviously need to be comforted right now.

he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pushing you flush against him. you let out a shaky breath as he does, reacting immediately by wrapping your arms around his torso. he rubs your back soothingly as you cry softly into his chest, and his heart clenches. he wishes so badly that he could take your pain away, or better yet, that he could teach your ex boyfriend a lesson. but, you’re more important right now.

“you need anything?” he whispers against your ear, resting his cheek against the top of your head. you sniffle before you speak up, lifting your chin to look up at him.

“do you have any tea?” you whisper in a groggy voice. he smiles softly, and nods, and then releases you from his arms begrudgingly.

“you go sit. i’ll make some for you.” you nod, then sit on the couch, bringing your feet up onto the couch and crossing your legs.

as he makes your tea, he tries not to think about how badly he wants to kiss you. how badly he wants to help you forget about your ex. but, he knows he can’t, not yet. he’ll have to wait a little while, as not to take advantage of your fragile state.

after a couple of minutes he returns with two mugs, handing one to you and placing the other on the coffee table. you thank him softly, then take a small sip before you move to set yours beside his. he sits beside you, resting his arm behind you on the back of the couch.

“come here.” he urges you softly, and you oblige immediately, leaning against him rather than the arm of the couch. all you want right now is physical contact, and you relax into his embrace. he smiles to himself as you rest against him, fighting the urge to pull you right onto his lap and kiss your tears away.

he knew he had to have you the first time he saw you. you had just moved into the apartment beside his, and you came to his door with a sheepish smile on your face, apologizing profusely about any disturbance your dad and brother may have caused while arguing as they were helping you move in.

you were a soft, sweet thing, and so so pretty. and he was hooked.

after that, he did everything to keep running into you, and eventually became your friend. the only problem was your stupid boyfriend, who he quite frankly, didn’t think deserved you.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks after a few moments of silence. he feels you shake your head against his shoulder, and he hums softly in response. you just need some company right now, and he’s more than happy to stay right here.

“can we just, stay here for a while.” you whisper. he nods, mumbling a quick “of course” as he rubs his thumb over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. he grabs the tv remote beside him and turns on the tv, putting on a random show to help keep your mind off of your idiot ex.

before long, your eyes flutter shut, your steady breathing signalling to him that you’ve fallen asleep. he stays in the same position for a while, then lowers the volume of the tv to almost zero, and slowly and gently maneuvers himself off the couch. he lowers you to lay on the couch, making sure your head is on a pillow, then covers you with a blanket. the last thing he wants is for you to wake up cold or uncomfortable.

he watches your sleeping form for a minute before he finally turns and makes his way up to his bedroom. one day, you’ll be sleeping in his bed with him. he's sure of it. but today, he’s perfectly happy that you’re sleeping on his couch. in his apartment. because that means that you ran to him while you were in pain. that you came to him to make you feel better. and that makes his heart swell with hope.

you’re going to be his one day. he just knows it.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[disgustinggf]

this blog is brought to u by someone unmedicated

[pucksandpower]

The Princess and the Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader

Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians

Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this

“And if you’ll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I’ll take you to meet Kevin now,” the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.

You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.

“Oh goody,” your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.

Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. “We’re very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmark’s driver.”

The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haas’ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.

You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, you’ve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.

“And I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevin’s day!” The rep continues enthusiastically. “He was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.”

You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your mother’s family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.

Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, she’s already mastered your family’s signature skill — conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.

“I have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,” the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. “It would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.”

You force a smile, already shaking your head. “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.”

The PR rep’s face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?”

She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.

As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. “The honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.”

Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. “Please, call me Kevin.”

You return his smile politely. “Very well, Kevin it is.”

The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and you’re grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.

As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.

You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. There’s something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.

Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now that’s a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up you’ve heard is full of young talent — what’s not to love?

You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.

You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.

But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.

His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if you’re okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.

In this moment, it’s just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasn’t let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.

You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.

You stand frozen, lost in the stranger’s mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.

You blink, the spell broken as Henrik’s hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.

The stranger’s eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrik’s suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.

Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.

“Oscar! What are you doing, mate? We’ve got the strategy briefing in five!”

You watch as the man — Oscar, apparently — glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.

Oscar’s hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. “Sorry, I—”

But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go. No time for chatting up fans when we’ve got quali coming up.”

Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.

You stare after them for a long moment before Henrik’s voice breaks through your daze once more.

“Your Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?”

You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “Just a bit clumsy this morning it seems.”

You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.

Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.

As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.

The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. You’re sure they’ll have the truth out of you before long.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N,” your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. “Have a nice stroll?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.

“Lovely, thank you,” you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.

You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblings’ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.

“You look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?” Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.

“Just peachy!” You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.

From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. “You do seem rather … distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?”

You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.

“Oh leave your sister be,” your mother chides. “I’m sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.”

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

You’re immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to “give the team space to prepare for qualifying,” and drawing your family’s attention away from you.

You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.

As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.

“Soooo,” she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Who’s got you all flustered then?”

You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. “What? No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. “I may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.”

Isabella’s grin turns positively feline. “Oh, do tell ...”

“There’s nothing to tell!” you insist, face flaming once more. “We collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure that blush is just because you’re so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.”

You scowl and take a long swig of your water.

Isabella chuckles. “So was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?”

You nearly choke again. “Isabella!” You admonish under your breath.

She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.”

You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, “He … wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking.”

“Aha!” Isabella crows triumphantly. “I knew it!”

You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“Do you know his name at least?” Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.

You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.”

Isabella hums thoughtfully. “Very mysterious ...”

You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. “Oh stop it. Can we please just drop this?”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.

You’re prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblings’ knowing looks.

You determinedly put the morning’s events from your mind, focusing on Kevin’s qualifying efforts. Though you can’t help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren — Oscar — was the one flying around the track instead.

The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.

As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.

“Excellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.”

Kevin smiles wryly back at you. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.”

You nod sympathetically. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.”

Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. “You have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.”

You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the day’s obligations finally complete.

As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, “Do you think Kevin would’ve qualified higher if Haas wasn’t so slow?”

You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.

“Without question,” you whisper back. “I think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.”

Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.

***

You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your family’s teasing, you can’t seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.

Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.

You know it’s foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet … those eyes. You can’t shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.

The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.

“Mor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.”

Your mother’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Go out? Alone?”

You rush to reassure her. “Oh no, I’ll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.”

You see a flash of understanding on your mother’s face and press your advantage. “In fact, didn’t you and Far meet during a pub crawl?”

Pink stains your mother’s cheeks but her lips quirk up. “I suppose we did. But those were different times ...”

“Please Mor?” You plead. “When will I have a chance like this again?”

Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. “Oh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.”

You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll stay safe.”

As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. “Hey, can I come too?”

“Absolutely not,” your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.

You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.

An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.

Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesn’t comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.

When you arrive, the bouncer’s eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguards’ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and you’re granted access without a fuss.

The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.

You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight you’re just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.

Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But they’re discreet enough to give you space.

You’re so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you don’t notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.

“Y-Your Highness!” He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. “I mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, I’m not actually sure—”

You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.

“Oscar!” You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Pink stains Oscar’s tanned cheeks. “Ah, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But what brings Denmark’s future queen out to the clubs?”

You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. “Can’t a girl just want to dance and have some fun?”

Oscar’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Suppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink … er ...”

He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.

You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. “Tonight, I’m just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.”

Relief flashes across Oscar’s face and he smiles. “Y/N it is.”

Soon you’ve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.

You’re amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crown’s ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, you’re not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.

When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. “Oh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?”

Oscar’s eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. “Ah, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.”

He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.

The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.

When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscar’s face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.

Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. “I wish this didn’t have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would … would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?”

Your face lights up. “I’d love that.” Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.

***

The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscar’s brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.

As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. There’s no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.

You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think I’ll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.”

Your mother’s brows furrow in concern. “Oh dear, that won’t do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.”

You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.

You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.

You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?

Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

“Good morning!” He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.

You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.

“So … you’re a driver. Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning that last night.”

Pink stains Oscar’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.” His eyes turn pleading. “I hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didn’t already know everything about me for once.”

You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. “Well, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And it’s not as if I was fully forthcoming either.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag in relief. “Too right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.” His eyes dance playfully.

You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. “Oscar! Debrief in two minutes, let’s go!”

Oscar smiles apologetically. “Duty calls. But let’s continue this later?”

At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.

Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.

A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevin’s efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.

The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscar’s podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.

Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscar’s podium.

“Nice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.”

Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.

As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Not a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?”

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.

“Indeed,” you murmur back. “One must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.”

Isabella’s eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

As the celebrations kick off for Oscar’s first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.

Someday soon, perhaps you’ll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.

If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.

***

You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.

You’ve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.

“Princess! Wait up!”

You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave,” you smile brightly. “I had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!”

Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. “And, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “You know I can’t answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and I’m so pleased for your result.”

Oscar’s grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.

“Well I’m glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.”

You groan good-naturedly. “Ugh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.”

Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. “I suppose this means you’ll be heading back to Denmark now though?”

You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. “Oh no, we’re spending a few more weeks visiting my mother’s family in Tasmania first.”

At Oscar’s look of surprise, you elaborate, “My mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.”

Understanding dawns on Oscar’s face. “Well how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.” He winks playfully.

Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. “I suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.”

A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.

Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. “Too right, you’ve got me there.” His laughter fades to a soft smile. “But I can’t say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.”

The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.

“I should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.”

Oscar’s face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.

Once you’ve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.

Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Well, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...”

“Right, yes ...” You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscar’s smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.

Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscar’s arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.

You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until it’s just this — the two of you suspended in time.

Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Travel safely, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” His voice holds a promise.

You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.

You don’t look back, though you can feel Oscar’s gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.

Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.

***

You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.

“Eager today, are we Princess?”

You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. “Oh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.”

Oscar’s answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. “Guilty. I’ll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. “Flatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?”

“Oh where to even start!” Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama — teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.

“Meanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...” Oscar continues, recounting his teammate’s latest antics.

You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. “Honestly, I don’t know how McLaren copes with you two!”

“We keep things lively, that’s for sure,” Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. “Although we’d love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...”

He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.

“Funny you should mention that … I’ve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “Really? You’d come to another race?” His voice turns playful. “Any particular reason for the sudden interest?”

You laugh, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in it. “Oh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...” You pause before adding softly, “Getting to see a certain Aussie driver again.”

Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. “Well I’m sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. “As it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.”

“That’s perfect!” Oscar enthuses. “Spa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say you’ll be there?”

His boyish eagerness melts your heart. “I’ll speak to our communications secretary this week. I’m sure they can make it happen.”

“Brilliant.” The tender hope in Oscar’s voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.

You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.

“I suppose I should let you go then ...” He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.

You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. “Wait, you haven’t told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!”

Oscar huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, words don’t do justice to the monstrosity. I’ll send pictures so you can experience it fully.”

“It’s a deal.” You know you’re only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.

Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.

“Hey Y/N, Mor wants to know if … is that Oscar you’re talking to?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. “Sorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!”

Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.

You smack his shoulder indignantly. “You little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!”

Christian just cackles gleefully. “Oh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.” He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.

“Just you wait until you’re madly pining over someone, I’ll get my revenge,” you threaten.

But inside, not even Christian’s teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.

***

Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.

And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.

Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. “Oscar!”

He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.

Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.

“You came,” Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. “Of course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.”

Oscar’s answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.

“Well then, allow me to escort you inside properly.” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.

After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.

The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.

Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.

“Ready to meet the team, Princess?” At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.

You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.

“Zak, Andrea — there’s someone special I want you both to meet.”

The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.

“This is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.”

Zak’s eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. “Your Royal Highness, welcome. We’re honored to host you in our garage.”

You return his firm handshake. “The honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.”

After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.

“Oscar, mate! There you are, I’ve been ...” The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.

“Lando, come meet the princess!” Oscar calls out cheekily.

Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. “Your Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.”

Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Lando’s shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.

“But, wait.” Lando glances between you again in confusion. “You mean all those times you cooed ’good morning, Princess’ over the phone … you were talking to an actual princess!”

Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.

After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,” he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.

The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.

But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. You’re on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.

The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.

You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.

The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.

Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermé but Oscar’s performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. “Quickly, he’ll want you there for this!”

Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.

Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.

In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek … and then his lips find yours.

The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscar’s lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.

When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscar’s breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.

***

You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscar’s podium kiss yesterday, you’ve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.

A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. “The call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.”

Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your family’s faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).

Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Your Royal Highness, might we have a word about this … incident from the race?” The chief advisor’s tone drips disapproval.

Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. “Of course.”

“I trust you’ve seen the coverage?” At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, “Then you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.”

You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, “Such scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.”

The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.

“The narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.”

The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.

“Enough!” Your father’s stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.

Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that you’re happy.”

Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.

“I know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.” His eyes soften, finding your mother. “I’ll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.”

Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.

The fight drains from the advisors under your father’s resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.

Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.

“Soooo … looks like someone had an eventful race!”

Heat floods your cheeks but you can’t suppress a giddy smile. “It just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.”

“This Oscar must be something special,” your mother remarks kindly.

Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscar’s kiss. “He really is. I can’t explain it, but it feels … right with him.”

Your normally stoic mother looks touched. “Then he has my blessing.”

On her other side, Christian smirks. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re in looooove.” He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hush dear, let your sister be happy,” your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. “Reminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...”

Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. “Too right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.” He winks at you. “We Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.”

You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your family’s support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.

You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you won’t be facing them alone.

Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.

But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.

“So ...” he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, “Think your family will let you keep me around?”

You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.

Let the world say what they will. You’ve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscar’s arms encircling you now, you know you’re right where you belong.

***

“Come on, it’ll be great! When’s the next chance you’ll get to come down under?”

Oscar’s pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.

“I don’t know … won’t I be imposing on your family time?”

Oscar waves a hand breezily. “Nah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, they’ll smother you with Aussie hospitality.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And you’re endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.

Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. “There’s so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...”

His voice turns coaxing. “And just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...”

Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.

“Oh alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.”

Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. “Yes! You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!

The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally you’re boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.

Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home you’ve missed so much.

As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.

Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.

You spot them immediately — Oscar’s smile mirrored on his mother’s face and his kind eyes reflected in his father’s crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.

“Your Royal Highness, we’re so honored to finally meet you!” His mother gushes. “Oscar’s told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.”

You smile, charmed by her easy manner. “The honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.”

She pats your hand merrily. “Of course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, let’s get you home and settled.”

The ride to Oscar’s childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parents’ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.

When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. “We’ve freshened up Oscar’s old room for you, I do hope it’s comfortable.”

You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Nicole claps her hands. “Now, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chris’ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.

“We’re just delighted to finally meet the girl who’s made our Oscar so happy.”

Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents aren’t looking.

The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.

Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscar’s room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.

Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. “This was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.

Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscar’s arms, you have everything you need.

Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.

“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.

The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity — lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscar’s family feels like coming to a second home.

On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper into the quiet night.

Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. “It’s only the start for us.”

And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know he’s right. This is just the beginning.

***

You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.

It’s his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know they’ll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.

The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.

Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.

Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.

You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home you’ve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“There’s my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you so much, Princess.”

Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.

“Well now I see why you were so eager for Oscar’s visit. Should I come back later?”

You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscar’s hand, you lead him towards the family wing.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to finally meet you properly.”

Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.

Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscar’s hand firmly. “Oscar, welcome. We’re delighted to have you here.”

Oscar returns the handshake graciously. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.

Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.

With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.

“Sooo tell us,” Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. “What exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?”

Oscar just grins, unfazed. “Why, to make her happy every single day, of course.”

You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.

“Good answer!” Christian crows. “But know if you ever hurt her, you’ll have the entire Danish army to answer to.”

Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.

“You have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.

The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscar’s childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.

Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.

“Whew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.”

You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “You were wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Oscar’s eyes soften. “Me too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.”

Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.

A loud retching sound interrupts you. “Ugh, get a room you two!” Christian complains, dodging your swat.

Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. “Don’t worry mate, I plan to.”

He silences Christian’s protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscar’s warmth, you can’t bring yourself to care who sees.

***

Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.

The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. There’s something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.

Sensing your tension, Oscar’s hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

You lean into his touch, gathering courage. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.” You twist to meet his gaze. “I know it’s still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...”

You trail off uncertainly, but Oscar’s eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.

“There are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.”

You watch Oscar’s face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. “Of course, that makes sense. I’m happy to learn whatever I need to.”

Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.

“For example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role … it was a massive life change.”

You take a bracing breath. “I don’t expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...”

You trail off meaningfully. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle your face. “Hey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, I’m in this 100%.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to build a life together.”

Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. “Well, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?”

Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. “Ja, det lyder perfekt.”

You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. “You brat, have you been practicing without telling me?”

Oscar’s eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.”

His smile turns tender. “I’d love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.”

Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. “Alright, let’s start simple. Like hej simply means hello.”

Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.

“Jeg elsker dig,” you murmur, gazing into his eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Oscar echoes. “What does it mean?”

Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. “It means I love you.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” he repeats reverently.

Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, “Jeg elsker dig, Oscar.”

The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscar’s arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. “What else can you teach me?”

Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.

But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.

You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.

As you finally part at the airport, his whispered “jeg elsker dig” warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.

***

You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.

Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner — a lavish gala in honor of the new children’s hospital bearing your mother’s name.

A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. “Yes, come in.”

Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.”

He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. “Going to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.”

And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.

“Shall we?” He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.

“We shall.”

The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.

You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospital’s key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.

But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. “Is it terrible I’m already bored senseless? I’d rather actually meet these kids we’re meant to be helping.”

You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.

As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscar’s eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.

Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.

“Quick, while we won’t be missed. Let’s actually go see the children.”

Excitement flashes across Oscar’s face. “Brilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.”

Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.

“Rigshospitalet, please. Quickly.”

At the children’s hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.

“So sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?”

The receptionist’s mouth opens and closes before she stutters, “O-of course, Your Highness, right away!” Clearly your boldness has paid off.

You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.

At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.

“Mama, it’s the princess! And her boyfriend!”

You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.

You laugh and enter slowly. “We were hoping we might visit you, if that’s alright?”

The girl — Else — nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Else’s delight.

As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, she’s just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.

All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.

“Thank you! This was like a fairytale.” Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.

You hug Else gently before kneeling down. “It was our honor. You stay strong, little one.”

Her returning whisper warms your heart. “Don’t worry, I will!”

Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but it’s a welcome ache. The children’s awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.

Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscar’s eyes mirror the same emotion.

Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you it’s time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.

Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.

Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all — this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.

You know you’ll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.

Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscar’s arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.

“I think tonight was the most important royal function I’ve ever attended,” he murmurs.

You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.

The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart — the only currency that counts can’t be bought, only given freely through love.

***

Two Years Later

You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.

Now, you’re about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.

At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.

You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.

Because today also brings another announcement — one that will upend Oscar’s world irreversibly.

Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscar’s character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.

Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.”

He gazes at you softly before continuing. “I’m truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmark’s lovely princess.”

You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.

But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.

“While I’m elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this season’s conclusion.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscar’s grip tightens as he pushes forward.

“As a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.”

His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscar’s passion — having to walk away is unimaginably hard.

Oscar visibly gathers himself. “But as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.”

He turns to you then, eyes glistening. “The honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.”

Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.

His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.

Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.

“Til Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ære, respekt og kærlighed.”

The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscar’s speech in their native tongue.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise — to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.

Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.

“Oscar’s love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.”

Your voice wavers with feeling. “Though it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.”

You reach for Oscar’s hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. “He gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.

But you remain lost in Oscar’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.

Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.

Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.

Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. “I meant every word,” he whispers fiercely. “You are my whole world now.”

You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.

“I know, min kæreste. We’ll face this new future together.”

The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.

A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.

***

Five Years Later

The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.

In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her father’s excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.

You reach over to still Oscar’s jostling knee, smiling indulgently. “Easy there, we’ve barely arrived and you’re already wound up.”

Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.

But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.

As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.

“He lives! The prodigal prince returns!” A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.

Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.

“Good to see you too, mate. It’s been way too long.”

You round the car to find Oscar’s former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.

Oscar’s eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.

As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. “And who do we have here? Don’t tell me this little beauty is your daughter?”

Oscar beams, waving you both over. “She is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.”

Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. “No way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!”

Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. “What can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.” He kisses Maise’s wavy hair, eyes finding yours. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.

More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.

Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. “It’s so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!”

For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscar’s face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.

But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. “That’s a lovely offer, truly. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the royal box.”

He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. “Some of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.” Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her father’s smile.

You slip your arm through Oscar’s, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.

You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years already,” he murmurs. “Feels like another lifetime.”

You smile up at him sadly. “I know, my love. But look at everything you’ve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldn’t even be happening without you.”

Oscar huffs a small laugh. “Too right. Who needs driving when I’ve got you two anyway?”

He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.

Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.

This may no longer be Oscar’s world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where he’s meant to be.

[starboymuse]

ppl can grieve who he was while he was in the band while simultaneously understanding and supporting a victim of his.

it’s mourning the memories and emotions not the person he was behind closed doors.

[megalony]

Can't You Be Mine- Part 3

This is the newest part of my Evan Buckley series, and I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Summary: Now that Minnie has started referring to Evan as her dad, he has officially adopted her. And he turns up to protect and look after her and (Y/n) when they need him.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, I was thinking…"

Tilting her head to the side, (Y/n) let her eyes loll to the right to look across at Maddie. She knew that tone of voice. She knew whatever Maddie was going to say next was either going to be controversial or something big, possibly shocking.

She let herself sink further in her seat as she folded her arms over her chest, resting them down against her stomach that came up like a big bump in the road. Although sometimes, like now, her stomach acted like a cushion or an armrest.

(Y/n) had taken to seeing what she could rest on her bump when it started getting bigger, just to see Evan's reaction.

His words were usually something along the lines of 'Don't use it as a table!' or 'Stop resting your drink on them.' And if she tried to rest anything light on her stomach while she was walking around the house, he always responded with 'You know I'll carry that for you, right?' but she was only doing it to tease him.

"Oh yeah?" (Y/n) grinned and started to dance her fingertips across her bump.

"We need to throw you a baby shower."

"We do?" That wasn't what (Y/n) had been expecting to hear.

"Yes, we need to celebrate. Plus, I had Jee during covid, so we never got to celebrate one for her. I think it'd be nice, Buck's already desperate to throw one."

"Oh, I bet he is… I guess it will be fun." A tender smile danced across her lips as she looked down at her stomach as if she could see through to the baby. It would be nice to celebrate and have a little get together. Everything was going great now, (Y/n) and Evan had moved in together, he had adopted Minnie, they were having a baby together.

Other than the brief setback of the run in with Mick at the store, things were the best they had ever been for (Y/n). She had never been happier or more content and she felt that she had a family with Evan's team and Maddie had truly become a sister to her. It was lovely.

(Y/n) looked ahead at the road and tried to keep her eyes on the beach they were passing by.

She hadn't been out the house in two weeks.

When Evan went to work, (Y/n) felt too nervous to go out alone. She didn't want to run into Mick, he was out on bail and (Y/n) just knew that he would be hanging around this area in the hopes of running into her again. He loved terrorising her. He loved making her feel timid and frightened of her own shadow, it gave him power over her.

She couldn't go out on her own, what if she ran into him again? She wasn't going to be much use defending herself or the baby.

Staying home where she could lock all the doors and windows felt safer than trying to leave. Minnie had only just gone back to school this week and she was not enjoying it. She didn't want to be at school, she wanted to be at home with either (Y/n) or Evan or both of them. She wanted protection and she didn't feel safe at school.

It had taken Maddie almost an hour to convince (Y/n) to come out this afternoon with the girls.

It was a lovely warm day and Maddie said they could go to the beach or the arcades and do something with Minnie and Jee. Whether it was just going for a walk and an ice cream and then going home, at least being out for a drive would get them out the house and back to a sense of normality. And (Y/n) didn't feel able to decline.

"Did you have a shower for Minnie?" Maddie looked across at (Y/n), noticing the way she had shrunk down in her seat and was absentmindedly gliding her hand up and down her bump.

"No, my parents were happy I left Mick, but they thought it was a mistake to have Minnie on my own."

All of (Y/n)'s family had seen how Mick's temper would flare and they noticed the bad effect he had on her. Making (Y/n) feel belittled and constantly on edge, how she never got to spend much time with her family when he was around and how he tried to control what she did and who she talked to.

They were thrilled when (Y/n) managed to cut all ties with him and escape, but knowing she was having a baby on her own wasn't something her family thought she should do. They thought it would be too hard for (Y/n) and when she and Minnie moved out to LA, they worried she wouldn't fair well on her own looking after Minnie.

Things had gone a bit smoother between (Y/n) and her family when they saw how happy Minnie made (Y/n) and how well the pair of them were doing. And now that Evan was in the picture, (Y/n) felt more able to talk and be around her family without feeling judged or like they thought she couldn't cope.

"Well, we will throw a great shower and show them just how wrong they were."

"Do you think your parents would come?" (Y/n) didn't want to upset Maddie if talking about her parents wasn't something she wanted to do, but she was curious.

(Y/n) had heard Evan on the phone to his parents a few times- each time it had been him to call them, never the other way around. (Y/n) had yet to see them call him and ask how he was or what was going on in his life. She heard the way Evan sounded dull when he talked to his parents. He told them he was happy in a new relationship but he didn't seem like he was expecting much back from them or much of a reaction or a glowing praise.

She had also witnessed the conversation where Evan told them he had adopted Minnie.

His parents hadn't been upset, per say, but they sounded cautious, as if this was something Evan was doing on a whim rather than something he had thought and talked about extensively and knew in his heart it was something he wanted to do.

Evan had told them it was what he wanted, that he loved Minnie and if he was going to tell people she was his daughter, he needed to adopt her and make it real. He wanted to adopt Minnie so she was truly his daughter. It meant he could be an emergency contact for her and he could be on her doctor's file. He could be on her school file and he could pick her up from school early, take her to appointments or anywhere she needed.

It also meant he could give her his last name, something Minnie was now ecstatic with. She had been practising how to write Buckley and learning how to spell it and she had told her teacher as soon as her name was changed.

Both (Y/n) and Evan were hoping that in a few years when Minnie was older, these memories would be fuzzy for her. She wouldn't remember she used to have (Y/n)'s last name or that she hadn't had Evan in her life from the very beginning.

"I'm sure they will, I've told them how happy Buck is after the move and everything. I'll make sure they come over when we organise the shower." Maddie reached across and delicately ran her hand over (Y/n)'s bump for a few seconds.

She wouldn't stand for their parents not being there at the baby shower. This was another grandchild for them. Maddie had already made it clear how happy and complete Evan felt in this relationship and that in taking Minnie on, it meant the rest of them did too.

Minnie was referring to Maddie and Chimney as her aunt and uncle and Maddie had told her parents that Minnie would need to be treated as their grandchild along with Jee and the new baby. If they didn't, they wouldn't be having contact with the new baby because it wouldn't be fair to Minnie. This was the way things were going to be.

Tilting her head up, Maddie looked in the rear-view mirror to see the two girls sitting idly in the back. "Shall we go get an ice cream?"

Both of them grinned and squealed their replies, kicking their legs in their car seats. (Y/n) couldn't of been happier that Minnie seemed very happy when she was around Jee. She got along with her class mates, but she didn't exactly make friends very well, she liked to keep to herself and her teachers said it was hard to get her socialising.

But there was only 16 months difference between Minnie and Jee and they were getting along like a house on fire. (Y/n) wondered if it was because Jee was technically her cousin now and because they were family, maybe Minnie felt more at ease around her and more eager to play and get along.

Once Maddie pulled up, (Y/n) sat forward and clicked her spine into place which caused her to wince.

She could feel the baby wriggling and when she climbed out the car, it felt like her stomach was weighing her down to the floor. It was going to be a rough few months if she was six months along and was already starting to feel discomfort.

She opened the back door and smiled down at Minnie who had been singing along to the radio the whole drive. But now it was time to get out, she could see her daughter looked nervous.

She held the Fireman Sam teddy closer to her chest and tensed up when her belt was taken off. Evan had given her the teddy and she barely let it out of her sights. And Evan had been both surprised and delighted when he came home from work last week and found that Minnie had gotten a pink pen and drawn and splotchy birth mark onto the teddy to make it resemble him. It had also caused her to ask Evan why she didn't have a mark like that too.

"Is daddy coming?"

"No, baby he's at work today. We're having a girls day." (Y/n) lifted Minnie out of her seat and set her down.

The same as (Y/n), Minnie hadn't left the house the first week after the shopping incident. She didn't want to and they didn't want to rush her. She had gone back to school this week but she hated every moment of it and was relieved to be taken back home at the end of the day. This was the first time she was going out somewhere other than school, but she wanted Evan.

She knew he would keep them safe, just like he did when he bustled into the shop two weeks ago and took them home. He promised he would keep her safe and Minnie wanted her dad stood in front of her like a protective shield. She wanted to be wrapped up in his arms because no bad people would mess with him.

"Your daddy said he wanted pictures of you having fun, why don't we see if we can win him a teddy from the arcades after an ice cream?" Maddie locked the car and looked over at Minnie who seemed to relax at her words.

With her left hand tightly clasped in (Y/n)'s and her teddy pinned under her arm, Minnie reached her other hand out and held Jee's hand. Both to keep her cousin heading in the right direction and to make them both feel safe and secure. The four of them made their way to the promenade along the sea front where Maddie said they would find an ice cream shop.

Minnie leaned her head into (Y/n)'s hip and nuzzled into her side as they walked down the promenade. She didn't want to be here, she wanted to go back home or stay driving in the car where it was safe.

"I want daddy." She tilted her head back and looked up at (Y/n) with those big pupils that looked like black holes that could ensnare everything in their path.

She let go of (Y/n)'s hand in favour of moving her arm to her chest to hold the Fireman Sam teddy so she could nuzzle her face against the top of the soft cotton. She wanted to go home now.

"You can call him later and tell him how brave you've been going out to the beach today."

"He'll be extra proud of you." Maddie winked when she could see that her words clicked something inside of Minnie's mind. She might just try and stay out a bit longer if she thought she could make Evan proud, not that she would have to do much to do that in the first place. He would be proud she had left the house, but if she could tell him she had been all the way to the beach and out for a long walk, he would be very pleased.

She nodded, her expression a little more relaxed, but she still didn't look so satisfied or at ease. She kept her mouth and nose nuzzled into her teddy and started humming as they all walked in line down the path beside the sea front.

"Wait with aunt Maddie and Jee while I grab us all some ice cream." (Y/n) kissed the top of Minnie's head and gently ushered her to stand over with Maddie and Jee.

Minnie huddled up into Maddie's side while her beady eyes followed her mum who waited in line for the ice cream. She tucked her toy tighter into her chest and pressed her lips against it again while her feet began to tap against the floor.

When Maddie took a few steps back and sat down on a bench, Jee perched next to her, holding her own teddy in her hands and quietly chatting to it like it was an old friend. And Minnie gingerly looked up at Maddie before tapping her knee, silently asking if she could sit with her.

"Come here," Maddie murmured, lifting the little girl up to sit her down on her knee. She could tell it made Minnie feel better and more secure when she felt Maddie's arms cocoon around her middle. No one could try and grab her or hurt her if she was wrapped up like this. "What's this?"

She pointed at the teddy in Minnie's hands and perched her chin on her niece's shoulder.

"It's daddy," She held the teddy out so Maddie could see her craftwork and the blobbed red ink above the right eye that resembled Evan's birthmark rather well. "Are you older than him?"

The question caught Maddie by surprise and she raised a brow, fighting off a smile as she swayed them from side to side.

"I am, I used to look after your dad when he was little."

"He said I'll be a big sister, like you… but why is daddy taller than you if he's littler?" Minnie liked the thought of being like Maddie, when Evan explained that Maddie was his big sister and she was very important in his life. He said she would be the same to the new baby.

Although Evan would never let history repeat itself where Minnie would have to love and raise her sibling, he didn't want that for anyone, especially not his own kids. As much as Evan loved Maddie for raising him, she shouldn't of had to and she had been the best part of his childhood, but that must have also been the worst part of hers. Forced to grow up, forced to raise him like he was hers rather than her brother.

"He's always been tall, you can't control your height." She watched as Minnie snuggled back into her chest and shifted down a little while her eyes focused on her teddy that was squashed against her chest.

When (Y/n) came back over and sat down next to her, Maddie grinned as Jee shuffled into her side to reach out for an ice cream. Both (Y/n) and Minnie seemed to be a bit calmer than this morning when they decided to come out here.

She knew Evan hadn't been happy when he spoke to her the other day. He was angry that Mark had the nerve to try and hurt (Y/n) in broad daylight, especially when Minnie had been there. (Y/n) had been doing so well going out on her own and feeling more confident in herself, and no Mark had gone and set her progress back miles and Evan just wanted to pummel him for it.

But for now, they would all be okay, and they would have a fun afternoon together.

***

Reaching down, (Y/n) kindly took the Fireman Sam teddy held out to her and she stuffed it in her bag hanging on her shoulder. Minnie couldn't carry two teddies at once if she wanted to hold (Y/n)'s hand as well. She had barely let go of her mother's hand at all, too afraid letting go might get them separated or allow someone like the bad man to hurt either of them.

But Minnie had done amazingly well so far. They had walked down the promenade, been along the sea front for a while, and now they were in the arcades.

Maddie had helped Minnie win a dog teddy from a crane machine and that was what Minnie was holding proudly. She wanted to give it to Evan when he came home tonight so she was parading around with it, meaning her Fireman Sam teddy was confined to (Y/n)'s bag for the time being.

When Minnie took her hand again, (Y/n) glanced around the arcade that was just a little too loud for her liking.

She looked across to where Maddie and Jee were just finishing up with one of the water gun games and she and Minnie headed over to them.

"This one! Mama do this one." Jee tugged on Maddie's hand and guided her over to the basketball game. She knew that was one that Maddie had a weakness for and when Maddie raised a brow at (Y/n), she rolled her eyes playfully and nodded.

When Evan was younger and Maddie used to take him to the arcade, this was the game they spent the most time and money on. They would play and play and rack up the tickets because both of them were accustomed players. (Y/n) was happy to take Evan's place and have a battle with her sister in law.

She felt Minnie cuddle up into her side while Jee stood between Maddie's legs, her hands excitedly tapping away on the front of the machine so she could eagerly watch the numbers at the back.

Clicking her spine into place, (Y/n) ran her hand along the side of her stomach where the baby was happily kicking up a fuss. She reached forward when the buzzer went off and grabbed the nearest basketball. (Y/n) liked this game.

"Go mummy!"

"Hurry mama!"

Jee helped roll the basketballs towards Maddie while Minnie clung to (Y/n)'s leg and leant her head against her mum's stomach. Jostling every now and then when (Y/n) had to keep reaching out for the basketballs because waiting for them to fall to the end wasted precious time.

Minnie began to count the scores, shouting out every time (Y/n) scored and she banged her hands on the side of the machine happily when both of them got through to the next round.

"I'm sweating already," (Y/n) mumbled, dragging her fingers through her hair as she clicked her back into place again. Leaning back and forth was starting to cause an ache in her lower back but the competitive streak within her was taking over.

Once the second round started, the hoop began to move from side to side, but it didn't bother either woman. Both of them seemed to be hitting baskets just one second after the other.

"Yay mummy! Round three."

"I don't think I can, you take over for me." (Y/n) took a step back and steered Minnie in front of her. She didn't have the energy for another round, and Maddie's score wasn't enough to get her into a third round which meant (Y/n) had won.

She rolled the basketballs down for Minnie who did her best, getting two or three before the timer ran out.

"Okay, what's next, now that you've beaten me?"

"Horses? Please?" Jee looked up at Maddie and pointed to the miniature merry go round next to the Dance Step game.

"Do you want to have a go?" Maddie looked down at Minnie but she shook her head. She was more interested in the crane machines or the 2p machines rather than the motion rides like that.

Minnie took (Y/n)'s hand again as they followed Maddie over to the merry go round so they could watch Jee. She was younger so this was something she enjoed and preferred and Jee was such a smiley girl that they would be able to take a lot of good photos today. They had gotten some selfies earlier where both girls had ice cream splattered across their faces. It had been a while since (Y/n) had taken any photos that weren't just of Evan or Minnie, so to have a few with Maddie and then some with all four of them was lovely.

Once Jee was perched on the golden horse and the merry go round was slowly spinning in circles, playing a rhythmic, if rather pitched tune, Maddie stood next to (Y/n). The pair of them leaned back against the Dance Step machine with tender grins and Maddie had her phone out, taking a little video.

Glancing behind her, (Y/n) watched the Dance icon stepping from left to right as the arrows lit up the screen. She loved those games, especially when she got to play the old nineties tunes and levelled up to the hard rounds.

"If I wasn't pregnant right now…" She looked wistfully at the machine while she felt Maddie's elbow gently nudging her side.

(Y/n) couldn't try it, not even on the easy level, not with her back playing up, but if they came back to the arcade once the baby was born, that would be the first game she would go on. She and Maddie could have a few rounds and see who could best the other.

When a sudden bang echoed through the overcrowded arcade, (Y/n) glanced to the left and felt a shudder run through her. Someone had backed up into one of the penny machines and the echo caused Minnie to jolt into (Y/n)'s side. Big noises were never a problem, but since the shopping incident, Minnie was viewing everything as a threat.

"It's okay," (Y/n) murmured softly, running her hand through Minnie's hair and brushing the strands away from her eyes.

Minnie dithered at her side, her eyes wide and scanning around the arcade as if she was searching for a threat.

This was why she wanted Evan to come out with them. If he was here, he would pick her up. If Evan was here, he would hold her in his arms and tell her everything was alright and no one would dare mess with him or come near Minnie or her mum if he was here.

But without him, everyone was getting too close. There were teenagers running around and a few men messing around near the machines like they were trying to break into them or shake them until all the coins fell out.

What if one of them came over and tried to hurt (Y/n) again? What if they pushed her or went to hurt Maddie? What if they started saying mean things like the other man did and tried to come near Minnie and Jee? What would they do?

Minnie could feel her heart racing as she cuddled the teddy closer to her chest, binding her arms around it so tight that if it had been breathing, it would of suffocated by now.

When the men continued to bash into the machine, Minnie couldn't find the will to look anywhere else. She could barely feel her mum's fingers running through her hair anymore trying to calm her down. But when the two men turned around and one of them started walking their way, Minnie started to shake.

She twisted to the left and scuttled away, following the patterned carpet like it was a trail guiding her somewhere safer. She weaved between the machines, jumping at every loud note of music that blasted from the machines and each time one of the zombie games let out a gunshot.

Her head tilted down and her arms pinned into her sides as she pelted off in a rush, unsure where exactly she was aiming for. She just wanted to get away and find somewhere safe.

"Minnie- baby no!" Reaching behind her, (Y/n) patted her hand down on Maddie's arm before she tried to hurry after her daughter.

Something had spooked her and she was pelting through the arcade.

(Y/n) shifted her bag strap so it was looped over her neck rather than just her shoulder, allowing her to speed up without losing her bag in the process. She weaved between the machines, holding her breath as she tried to look for her daughter's curly hair or spot the purple dress she was wearing.

Her panicked eyes scanned round as she weaved between parents, racing children and loud teenagers constantly getting in her path. Even though it was clear (Y/n) was trying to hurry after her child before they got separated. She couldn't allow that. Minnie was in a panic and if she got lost she would start to scream or think someone was going to snatch her.

She took a sharp left as her heart jumped into her throat; she was right near the exit. What if Minnie bolted outside? (Y/n) could easily lose her in the sea of people swarming about. Someone could take her hand and drag her away. Minnie could get swept up and wander too far.

Raging thoughts dwelled in her head as her throat clogged up and she couldn't take a proper breath. But just as she was about to rush out the open doors, something caught her eye.

"Minnie no!"

Lurching to the left, (Y/n) reached out for her five year old, but she wasn't quick enough. Minnie scuttled inside the prize drop of the crane machine before (Y/n) could get to her.

"Minnie, Minnie get out of there." (Y/n) dropped to her knees, despite the ache it caused in her lower stomach and the shockwave that it rattled up her spine.

She pushed the flap open and tried to reach her hand up, but Minnie was mewling like a trapped kitten. Her daughter wriggled and screamed, writhing in panic until she managed to shimmy out of the drop zone and climb over the plastic barrier. She tumbled like an acrobat and flopped onto the styrofoam cuttings and mingled in with the Disney Dumbo toys. The five year old curled up like she was trying to somehow blend in or become invisible, her dog toy cuddled to her chest and her head nuzzled against one of the other teddies surrounding her.

Each breath she took finally started to mellow out and she stopped screaming and whining, switching to deep breaths to try and calm back down.

Great.

(Y/n) could feel a wave of anger radiating through her, despite how badly she tried to fight it off when she looked at her daughter.

Why hide in there? She knew she couldn't go messing with the machines, it was dangerous. She could of broken her arm or a leg trying to get up there, it was a good job she was small and nimble.

Now (Y/n) was going to have to find an attendant and get them to unlock the machine to get Minnie out. And people were already starting to notice that there was a little girl hidden in with the toys. The last thing they needed was to cause another scene. Why would Minnie hide in there if she felt scared or spooked? How would being in there give her security or help her?

With a sigh, (Y/n) moved her hands to the glass and heaved herself off her knees and back to her feet. She tilted her head back and pressed her hand to her temple as she let herself lean against the glass separating her from her daughter.

She opened her eyes and jerked back a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but she relaxed, seeing it was only Maddie who had Jee sat on her right hip. Maddie seemed to look around, panic fuelling her eyes as she tried to find her niece, but when she looked at the claw machine, her lips pursed and her shoulders dropped.

"Oh," She muttered, fighting back a defeated smile while she squeezed (Y/n)'s arm. "I'll go get someone." She jostled Jee higher on her hip and hurried off to find someone who would have the keys.

"Baby, why'd you get in there?" (Y/n) rested one hand on her hip as she turned to face the glass which she leaned her temple against.

She looked down at her daughter who stayed curled up with her knees imbedded into the styrofoam and her tummy tucked over her legs. The way she looked up with those big doe eyes through her lashes made (Y/n)'s anger fizzle out and a wave of sympathy washed over her instead.

She barely managed to hear Minnie whisper "Bad man." As tears began to trickle down the little girl's face and she stayed cuddled up, wishing everyone crowding round would go away.

(Y/n) pushed off the machine and stood back on her feet properly when Maddie jogged back over with a young man following her. He didn't look much older than nineteen, with floppy hair falling in every direction and he was lazily chewing a piece of gum. The faded, bored look in his eyes brightened a little when he realised there actually was a little girl stuck in one of their machines.

"You can't take anything from the machine, you know that, right?" He raised a bored eyebrow and unclipped the keychain from his belt.

"She's not trying to take a toy, she's frightened." (Y/n) couldn't help but scowl at him as she folded her arms over her stomach and waited for him to unlock the glass door.

He huffed, nodding along as if to appease her while he switched to another key and tried to ram it into the lock.

By the time he switched to the fifth key on his chain, (Y/n) shared an annoyed look with Maddie and inched closer to the machine. Minnie was still cuddled up and the sight of the stranger in front of the machine was making her tremble and cower back. She had tears running down her face and every time she looked over at (Y/n), her lower lip wobbled.

"Do you know what you're doing?" (Y/n) snapped when the next key didn't work either. If he carried on she would take them from him and find the right one herself.

But her jaw dropped and she heard Maddie let out a disgruntled noise when they both watched the last key wriggle in the lock and suddenly, it snapped. Half the metal key stayed rammed in the lock while the end broke off in the attendant's hand.

His jaw dropped and those tired, unbothered eyes finally widened as shock plastered across his face. That clearly wasn't part of the plan and he hadn't done this before. No kid had managed to climb into the machine. Many had tried, some got into the prize drop area before their parents dragged them out. And a lot of stupid teenagers got their arms caught trying to reach up for a prize. But now the door was jammed, and Minnie was too unsettled to scramble back down. She could hurt herself trying to wriggle back down that thin prize drop zone.

"Oh shit." He mumbled to himself and he looked petrified when he turned to look at both women who were now glaring daggers into him.

"Well? What are you going to do now?" Maddie sounded stern and authoritive but she could feel herself getting angry when he shrugged.

"Lady, I- I don't have another key, anyway it's jammed."

He actually flinched when he heard (Y/n) mutter 'stupid boy' under her breath and when she gave his shoulder a forceful nudge, he took the hint. He backed up and stood to one side, deciding to tell other people to move on and stop crowding round.

"I guess I'm calling Evan." (Y/n) laughed cynically and fished around in her bag for her phone. She needed the fire department to come down here and bust this lock open to get her daughter out. And who better than her partner and his team to do the honours?

She stood to one side, staying close to the machine while Maddie moved over and looked down at Minnie, quietly asking if she was alright in there.

"Hi sweetheart, how's it going? Did you all go out somewhere?" Evan's voice made butterflies ignite in (Y/n)'s stomach and she fidgeted on the spot when she felt the baby moving too.

"Are you out on a call?"

"We're just about to head back to the station, why? Is everything okay?"

"Evan… could- could you and the team swing by and help us? We're at the arcades, and Minnie's got a bit, stuck."

It felt like too much to ask, but if she didn't ask or if Evan said they couldn't, she would have to call 911 anyway and get a different fire service to come out and help them. (Y/n) didn't want to bother Evan at work, she had never rang him at work before until two weeks ago after the whole supermarket fiasco. Now here she was, doing it again.

"Uh, stuck how?" Apprehension flooded Evan's voice but (Y/n) could hear him moving about and she just knew he was already getting the team ready to come down to them.

"She's inside a crane machine." (Y/n) darted her eyes over to Minnie who was sniffling, but she was listening attentively to Maddie who was trying to chat to her and keep her from fretting.

"Shit. Text me the address, we're coming now baby."

(Y/n) said her goodbyes and quickly sent a text to say which arcade they were in. Although by the time the team got here, people would be talking and murmuring and hovering around so it would be easy enough to see which one the commotion was in.

She leaned her head back against the machine and tapped her phone against her thigh as she looked down at Minnie.

"Your dad's coming to get you out." (Y/n) managed a tepid smile when Maddie jostled Jee on her hip, murmuring that she was going to see her dad too. At least the boys would get to see them for a little while, and both girls would be over the moon at seeing their dads on the job. Although this wasn't the best of circumstances.

"Daddy?"

A smile pulled at Minnie's lips as she lifted her head and wiped her nose against her sleeve. Locking eyes with her mum who rose a brow.

"Don't tell me you got in there so I could call your dad to come and get you out." She doubted that was Minnie's intention, she had been petrified of something and gone into panic mode. But she could see Minnie was calming down already at the thought of Evan coming to the rescue.

***

Evan looped the tool kit over his shoulder and spun away from the truck with a look of concentration plastered across his face.

He could feel Eddie and Chimney hovering close behind him as he walked away from the truck and headed over to the promenade. This wasn't the kind of callout he was expecting today. When (Y/n) called, he thought she would be telling him that they had gone out and had a good day, or that they only went out for a little while and then headed back home. He wasn't expecting to be told Minnie had scuttled into one of the arcade machines, for some very strange reason he wasn't sure of yet.

At least this was preferable to the phone call he'd had the other week. Never again did Evan want a stranger answering (Y/n)'s phone, trying desperately to tell him that there was some kind of incident involving his family at the store. He wasn't ready to be rushing from the station down to the shops, fretting that he would have to take his girls to the hospital.

"Why are we here, again?" Hen hurried to keep up with the rest of them, looping a medic bag on her shoulder just in case they needed to assess anyone.

"For some unknown reason, my daughter's managed to climb into one of the prize machines."

Evan jogged a bit faster as he spoke and rounded the corner. He had memorised the address (Y/n) sent to him, but he didn't really need it. There were people hovering outside the third arcade down the promenade and Evan would bet that was where his family was.

"Excuse me." He politely weaved between the families and teens all moving around, pretending to play on the games when really, they were trying to get a look at what was going on.

He saw Maddie first. He rested his hand down on her shoulder and grinned softly at Jee who was in her arm, looking very tired.

"Hi," Maddie squeezed his wrist and took a few steps back to let him get in front of her and see the scene. And when her sights set on Chimney, she moved over to him, letting their daughter scuttle into his arms as she squealed. She hadn't been expecting to see her dad here, in his uniform.

A wary smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips that were curved around her thumb as she had been biting her nails for the last ten minutes. She pushed off the machine she had been leaning against like a guard, protecting her daughter from anyone and everyone passing by.

The moment Evan was within reach, (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and pushed up on her tiptoes to be level with him. She kissed his cheek while his left arm bound tight around her waist and he pulled her into his chest.

He dropped the tool kit down by his feet, briefly skimming his fingers across (Y/n)'s stomach before he leaned back to look down at her.

"Dare I ask why she's in there?" His eyes darted between the machine and (Y/n), noting that Minnie hadn't realised yet that he was here.

"She got scared and ran off, but I don't know why she clambered in there." (Y/n) felt like she could of melted on the spot when Evan hummed and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. She could feel his thumb stroking up and down her back while he slowly inched her backwards until he was in front of the machine.

When he unravelled his arms from (Y/n), Evan tapped his knuckles against the glass and placed both hands on his hips. He arched a brow and tilted his head down when Minnie's head shot up and a mixture of surprise and awe lit up her teary face when she realised Evan was here. Part of her hadn't believed that he would come down to get her out.

"Minnie Buckley."

The five year old scurried round so she was sitting up rather than lying down and she pinned the teddy she rightfully won earlier against her chest. The way she looked up at Evan through her lashes already had his heart melting and whatever sternness he had about him was starting to fade away.

"Let's get you out of there," He sighed and crouched down to rummage through the bag and see what he could find.

When he lifted his head, he frowned and tilted his head to one side as his fingers traced the lock. Someone had jammed the wrong key in and snapped it. No wonder they couldn't get her out.

"Okay," He grabbed a few tools and stood up to his full height again. At least Minnie had gotten into one of the larger crane machines, she seemed to have a lot of room in there which meant she hadn't panicked or gotten claustraphobic yet. "Shuffle back out the way, baby."

He waved his hand until she took the hint and inched back until she was pressed up against the back of the machine.

(Y/n) took a few more steps out the way when Eddie walked over to her, a kind smile on his face as he moved to stand beside Evan. He helped Evan wriggle the lock until they got the jammed piece of metal from the lock. And Evan switched tools, using a few picks and metal hooks while Eddie twisted the bolt lock with a wrench and the managed to break it.

Once the lock was broken and loose in the glass door, Evan curled his hand into a fist and bashed it against the lock. In one swift movement, the metal lock dropped into the machine, disappearing into the styrofoam. Which allowed Evan to hook his finger into the glass door and pull it open.

He took a step back, unable to stop the gracious smile from pulling at his lips and the moment he opened his arms, Minnie scrambled forward. She looped her arms- and the teddy- around Evan's neck and jumped so he could pick her up and cuddle her against his chest.

His lips attached to the top of her head and he moved over to the side while Eddie stuffed the tools back into the bag and moved over to Hen and Bobby. The three of them would take a wander round and wait back at the truck while Evan and Chimney finished up here with their families.

(Y/n) curled her hands around Evan's bicep and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, murmuring a soft "Thank you," into his arm while he kissed the top of her head.

After a few moments of running his hand up and down Minnie's back, Evan tilted backwards to look down at her and he rose a brow when she gingerly looked up at him through her lashes.

"Minnie, why'd you climb in there? You know that's naughty."

They both knew he never used her name unless it was serious or she was in trouble. Hearing her name from Evan's lips made her shudder and she tilted forward to bury her face in his shirt, but Evan wasn't having any of it. He held her in his right arm while his other hand gently but firmly gripped her chin and tilted her head back so she was looking at him again.

"What were you doing?" They needed to know. They had to know why she thought climbing into there was a better idea than staying with (Y/n) or simply running away if something was frightening.

She couldn't do that again because she wasn't going to fit into cramped places like that. She was lucky she was slim enough to get into that machine without becoming stuck or gaining a bad injury. Evan was more than happy to come down here and be the one to get her out of that machine, but he had to at least understand what Minnie had been up to and make sure she knew it was dangerous to do that.

"There was a bad man, hitting the machines… he- he couldn't get me out of there, could he?"

Evan's eyes darted over to (Y/n) and she could see the panic lighting him up like a Christmas tree, so she squeezed his arm and shook her head. Mark wasn't here. They hadn't been in any danger.

"Someone was getting rowdy, messing with the machines, she must have thought he would do something." She ran a hand down her face, warding off tears. Not only had Mark set (Y/n) back in her recovery, but now he had petrified Minnie too, and (Y/n) wanted to keep him as far away from her daughter as possible. She left him so he couldn't inflict any pain or panic onto her, but he had still managed it.

Minnie thought someone was going to hurt them and she had seen a chance to get away. If her mum couldn't get her out of that machine, then neither could a bad man.

With a sigh, Evan pressed his lips to the top of her head and peppered kisses up and down her temple and cheek. His hand smoothed up and down her back as he swayed them from left to right.

"No, no he couldn't, but you could of gotten stuck or hurt. If anything like that happens again, you don't leave mummy or aunt Maddie, okay? You just wait for me to come get you."

He felt her snuggle deeper into his chest with her head tucked safely beneath his chin and he smiled softly. His lips continued to pepper kisses against the top of her head while he reached one arm out to tuck (Y/n) up into his side. The three of them slowly made their way outside to where Maddie, Chimney and Jee were stood on the promenade.

"Please don't do that again, baby." Evan murmured into Minnie's hair. He didn't want to tell her off when she had been frightened and rightfully wanted to stay safe. But he didn't want the next phone call to be saying that Minnie had broken her arm or her leg or that she had gotten trapped. It would be a lot harder to get her out of one of those machines or something just like it if she was stuck and distressed and they had to cut through metal to reach her.

Minnie gingerly leaned her head back and unravelled one arm from Evan's neck so she could show him the toy dog she had won on one of the other machines. She watched as Evan raised a brow and reached his hand up to observe the toy.

"I won this for you daddy." Her voice was quiet and soft and very drained, making Evan sure that when he got home tonight, she would be fast asleep.

"For me?" When she nodded, Evan pecked her cheek and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Thank you, little mouse."

[megalony]

All Over Again

This is a rather long Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by a lovely anon. Unfortunately I've lost the request, I saved it into a draft and then tumblr decided to eat it.

I will try and find the request if I can, but I hope whoever asked for this sees it and likes it. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write this, but I really enjoyed it.

Any feedback would be lovely.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: When Eddie's pregnant wife gets injured in an eerily similar way to Shannon, Eddie fears he might lose another wife. So he stays vigil by her side, hoping she comes out of her coma.

Enjoy.

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Twisting from side to side, Eddie ran his hand up and down the child's back and let his eyes wander round the scene. He continued slowly jostling his arms up and down, rocking the little boy who seemed to have attached himself to Eddie like they were long-lost family reunited.

He tilted his chest back a little so he could look down at the little boy through the tinted sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Eddie had been a little more than surprised when, after trying his luck picking up the four year old to calm him down, the toddler attached to him. He stopped crying and screaming the house down when Eddie comforted him and he had gone as quiet as a mouse. He let Eddie walk him outside and wait near the ambulance while the rest of the team tried to help his mother.

The call had a rather simple yet hectic one. The boy's mother had had an accident in the garden, frightening the boy so while the team sorted the mother, Eddie handled the boy.

A smile pulled at Eddie's lips when he watched the team walk outside, bags in hand all ready to pack up and head back to the station.

Hen passed Eddie on her way to the ambulance and rested her hand on his shoulder. "No hospital trip needed." She whispered in his ear and patted his shoulder.

"Alright buddy, are you gonna go back to mum?" Eddie watched intently as the little boy, Johnny, tilted his head back to look up at Eddie. He looked uncertain. He wanted to go over to his mum but he didn't want Eddie to put him down either.

He huffed, looking like he was about to burst into another screaming fit when Eddie walked back towards the house. He kept his arms looped tightly around Eddie's neck until Eddie headed inside the house once again.

He padded through into the kitchen and gently eased Johnny down onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table where his mum was sitting, all patched up and well again. He crouched down in front of him and ruffled the boy's hair, smiling softly.

"Bye, little man." Part of him felt like saying 'see you soon' but he didn't want to put ideas into the boy's head or jinx him in any way. Eddie would like to bump into him again, but he wouldn't want to see him under these circumstances again.

Eddie nodded at the mum, giving them both a lasting smile before he headed out the house and made his way slowly back towards the truck. By the time he got there, the team were all packed up and piling back into the truck. While Hen moved over to get in the ambulance they had brought for provisions, just in case they needed a hospital visit.

He ran his fingers through his hair and took off the sunglasses to tuck them into his top pocket.

He slumped down into the seat next to Buck, sighing when he was finally sat down. They had been on the move all day and it wasn't even four in the afternoon yet. They had missed dinner. All of them were starting to slack by now.

"You got a gift."

Eddie squinted across at Chimney, unsure what he was referring to or what he was going on about. He had missed most of the conversations during the last half an hour while he had been on babysitting duties with that poor boy. Whatever the team were talking about, Eddie wasn't in on the conversation.

"What?"

"That little kid, all you had to do was pick him up and he chilled right out. You've got a gift." Chimney slouched in his seat and smiled languidly as he looked out the window at the passing scenery.

It was nice not to have the truck pelting down the streets at full speed, swerving round corners and cutting through traffic. And it was good on their ears not to have the siren on. Even with headphones, the siren could be overwhelming and gave them all rattling headaches when they climbed off the truck.

"Yeah, it's got nothing to do with the four kids he's got." Buck nudged his elbow into Eddie's side and raised a brow, as if waiting for Eddie to disagree with him. But Eddie simply nodded in agreement with his brother in law.

"It takes practice, and three kids, the little lady isn't here yet."

Eddie couldn't help it if he was good with kids, it came with a lot of practice. He had three kids at home and another one on the way, if Eddie wasn't good handling tantrums or frightened children or demanding kids by now then he never would be.

And Eddie didn't like saying he had four kids when the newest addition wasn't here yet. (Y/n) was thirty three weeks pregnant, they still had a little while to go yet until they could meet their next girl. Then Eddie would have two boys and two girls, an even set.

"Not long now." Buck spoke quietly while he leaned against the window and took a look at the passing streets.

"You gonna miss me?" Eddie grinned when he heard Bobby agree. They were going to miss him for a month.

Eddie got two weeks leave when (Y/n) had the baby and he had already put in another week of annual leave after that, so he was having almost a month off work. The team weren't pleased they were going to have to have a transfer in with them for a month, but they all understood.

They knew that Eddie would need to be home with (Y/n) to help her recover and help look after the kids. He did the same with her last two pregnancies, took as much time off as he could to be home and enjoy being with his wife and newborn.

A groan tumbled past Eddie's lips and he closed his eyes, tipping his head back when he heard the truck radio come to life.

"Dispatch to 118, traffic accident three blocks from your location, immediate help required and at least three injured persons. Can you attend?"

"This is Captain Nash, we're on our way."

They had barely left the scene. They had been on their way back to the station for something to eat and a break, why did they have to be sent straight onto another call?

"Alright, everybody hold tight and hang on for a late lunch."

All of them shrugged on a headset while Bobby picked up the radio and made sure Hen would follow them to the new scene. Their stomach would be growling in unison by the time they got back to the station later on this afternoon, or this evening, depending on how long this call out took.

At least it was close by. Less than five minutes after putting on their headphones, they had all arrived at the scene.

Eddie shrugged off his headphones and clicked his back into place before he followed Buck and Chimney out the truck. All of them glanced around. The road was in the process of being blocked off, only letting through the emergency services.

Two cars had collided right in the centre of the road just after a junction. People were hovering about on street corners and trying to lean around the police blocking off the roads.

Twisting to the side, Eddie opened one of the truck compartments and fished out one of the medic bags. He could see Hen wheeling the gurney over to the scene, a medic bag on top of the gurney. And Buck had busied himself getting a set of jaws and a tool kit from the truck as it seemed they might have to cut one of the drivers out of his car.

"I don't think we're eating today." Chimney muttered, one hand on his hip while he looked around the scene.

He and Eddie fell in step with one another as they headed towards the scene ahead of them. This looked like it was going to take them a while. Another station was heading their way for added assistance and they would have some more ambulances en route too, but it was still a big mess to clear up. They would have to set up diversions and wait until the road was back in use before they left the scene.

"Where'd you want us?" Eddie shifted the bag a bit higher on his shoulder while his other hand moved to rest on his waist.

He didn't like the look on Bobby's face.

Their Captain suddenly looked anxious, he looked drained as if all the colour had washed right out of him and left him pale and grey. His eyes were bleak and the way his lips were twitching looked like he was finding it hard to control himself and stay calm.

"Back in the truck, Eddie."

Those few words sent Eddie's blood curdling in his veins and his brows furrowed in confusion. What had he done? Why was he being sent to the truck like a naughty child? He hadn't done anything wrong, their last call Eddie hadn't even participated in because he had been consoling that young boy.

"You're benching me? Why?" His fingers began to puncture into the strap on his shoulder and he switched his weight from foot to foot.

He took three steps closer until Bobby held a stern hand out and gripped his shoulder, preventing him from getting any closer to the scene. What the Hell was going on?

He leaned around Bobby, trying to get a view of the scene, but he found himself focusing on Buck instead. His brother in law looked shell-shocked. Buck's hands were trembling at his sides and he came to an abrupt stop at Bobby's side when he realised Eddie was nearby. There were tears in Buck's reddened eyes and his lower lip was trembling.

"Buck? What's going on?"

The moment Eddie heard '(Y/n)' pass through Buck's trembling lips, he felt like his heart had stopped in his chest. He felt the irregular beats his heart stuttered out and he felt how harshly it pounded in his chest like the organ was trying to impale itself on his ribs.

No. No!

His wife wasn't here. She wasn't caught up in any accident or this kind of mess. She would be at home right now, enjoying a day off work while the kids were at school. Eddie had seen her just this morning, he'd kissed her goodbye on the doorstep and took the kids with him to drop them all off at school. She had been fine.

The bag on Eddie's shoulder dropped to the floor and both hands tangled themselves in his hair as he started to shake his head. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening to him.

He leaned around Bobby again as a muttering round of no passed his lips. "T-that's- that's not her car."

Neither of the cars or the jeep that were all meshed up in a crumpled mess in the middle of the road belonged to (Y/n). She didn't drive those cars, so she couldn't possibly be caught up in this accident.

"There were two pedestrians who got hit."

Tears were already welling up in Eddie's eyes and about to erupt down his face before he took another breath.

He stepped on his back foot and pulled away from Bobby's touch that was scolding rather than comforting. He took another step away but the moment Bobby pointed to the truck, Eddie pelted like the devil unleashed. He barged into Buck so fast the taller man stumbled into the bonnet of the car behind him.

Eddie bolted before hands could grab at him and no one got to stop him before he rounded the mess of smashed up cars and saw two victims strewn on the floor. He had no clue who the elder man was laid on the pavement with a police officer and a paramedic tending to him, but Eddie recognised the woman Hen was knelt beside.

He recognised that hair. That soft skin. The same leggings he'd seen her get into this morning. That burgendy button-up shirt that happened to belong to Eddie. And those army green trainers that were also Eddie's because her ankles had swollen up.

That was his wife.

A tortured sound clawed at the back of his throat and he fought against the hands that suddenly lurched around his arms and tried to pull him back. He writhed, bending his knees and shoving his weight forward so they couldn't drag him away.

They couldn't take him from her. He had to get to his wife. He had to be there and take her hand and make sure she was going to be okay. Eddie had to be beside her.

"No! Not- n-not again. I can't d-do it again." The hoarse tone to his voice had everyone shivering and when Eddie's knees scraped the floor, Bobby knelt down beside him.

He couldn't do it again.

Eddie couldn't lose another wife. He barely recovered from losing Shannon, and they hadn't even been together at the time of her death. Eddie thought fate was on his side when he got into a relationship with (Y/n). He didn't understand why he was being allowed another chance at love, at family and at a life together with someone else.

He didn't understand why he was given another family after Shannon. Nothing had ever worked with them, the only good thing to come of their relationship was Chris. But it still broke Eddie to lose Shannon, especially like that. But he had (Y/n). She took Chris on as if he was her own, and they had two kids together and another on the way.

Why was history repeating itself? Why could Eddie see his wife laid on the floor after a car accident, just like he had done years ago when he was in the same situation with Shannon?

He couldn't do this a second time, he couldn't hold his wife's hand as she died, he couldn't face the thought of going home to bring up three kids all on his own.

What about the baby?!

"Let me help her." Eddie choked out the words and pushed his elbow into Bobby's stomach until his Captain stopped trying to restrain him.

Eddie was only going to throw a fit and attack the team if they tried hauling him off to the truck to keep him away from his wife. They let him hold Shannon's hand as she died, the least they could do was let him be beside (Y/n) and see if he could calm her down or do something to assist.

When Buck knelt down beside Hen, Bobby relented and let go of Eddie, allowing him to stumble ahead to his wife. While Bobby spoke into the radio, asking for immediate help.

The team would have to transport (Y/n) and look after Eddie, and someone was going to have to get the kids from school so Eddie could stay with (Y/n) once they were at the hospital. That meant they would need more assistance down here at the scene to clear up and help the other victims. He had no idea if Buck would want to stay at the hospital with his sister or if he would go and be with the kids. It depended on his frame of mind once they arrived.

Each breath Eddie took hitched higher and higher in his throat until he was scarcely breathing at all. His lungs burned for more oxygen and his throat felt dry and cracked and tight and awful, all at once.

He wiped his hands over his face to try and clear his vision and calm himself down when he knelt down beside (Y/n).

Someone, most likely Hen, had rolled her onto her left side which left Eddie kneeling behind her waist. He was careful when he rested a trembling hand on her arm and tried to lean over her while Hen was knelt in front of her.

"Dios… oh, oh no." He clenched and unclenched his hands into fists a few times to gain control and stop himself from shaking. His knees inched closer to (Y/n)'s back so he could lean over her and his hand gently cupped her chin. "(Y/n)? Amor?"

She was unconscious. Eddie didn't know whether he was relieved or petrified. If she was awake he could calm her down and talk to her and she could tell him what hurt and if she was struggling with any injury or with her breathing or if she was struggling to see. But if she was unconscious, at least she wasn't in agony or panicking or crying out for help or enduring fear and broken bones. But unconscious also gave the risk of having her not waking up again, and Eddie didn't like the thought of that.

Eddie hated the way his hands trembled when he ran them up and down (Y/n)'s body, searching for injuries.

Her right wrist was broken bad enough that the bone was poking through the skin. She would need surgery to put it back in place.

When Eddie lifted her shirt and pressed the heel of his hands along her back and up her side, he felt one or two broken ribs, but her pelvis was in tact which was more than he could have hoped for right now. His eyes briefly locked with Hen before he started to check her abdomen.

He had to roll his lips together into a very thin line to stop from grimacing or making a face. He couldn't feel the baby moving, but they weren't in the usual position either which was a bad sign. He pressed his fingertips around her abdomen, but it was hard to tell whether she had a hernia or an internal rupture with the baby in the way.

"She's definitely bleeding from somewhere. Give me that." Eddie didn't think twice before he snatched the stethoscope from Hen before she had chance to use it.

He didn't want anyone else assessing his wife and he didn't want anyone else checking for a fetal heartbeat. If worst came to the worst, Eddie needed to be the one to check and subsequently find out if his little girl was alive or not. He didn't want anyone telling him or giving him that look of sympathy he still remembered from Shannon's death.

"It's low, but there." It was so low Eddie could barely hear it, and the pulse was weak. He moved the stethoscope to listen to (Y/n)'s heartbeat, and then pressed it to her back so he could hear how her breathing was. "Breathing's shallow. We gotta go now."

Eddie shuffled to the side when Chimney slid a backboard over to them and wheeled their gurney as close as he could get it.

His hands were as careful and gentle as possible when he slowly rolled (Y/n) towards him until she was laid on the backboard. Hen buckled the strap over her legs to make sure she was secure and they carefully lifted her up and onto the gurney.

"Chimney, drive the ambulance. Buck, with me in the truck, we'll follow behind. Go."

Buck looked like he wanted to disagree, but Bobby's hand on his shoulder helped him hurry towards the truck. He couldn't squash into the back of the ambulance with them, it wouldn't be fair and he wouldn't be of any help. He may as well ride in the truck and let Bobby drive him to the hospital.

Everyone moved as fast as they could but Hen felt overwhelmingly nervous once she and Eddie were in the back of the ambulance. She had no idea what was rattling through his head or what he was going to do. He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown, but he was compart-mentalising, pushing the dark thoughts away to try and look after (Y/n).

She watched him move, hands subtly trembling once again as he looped an oxygen mask over (Y/n)'s nose and lips.

"She might be better intubated-"

Hen straightened and pushed back in her seat when Eddie looked at her as if she had suggested shooting (Y/n) right here on the spot. She didn't like the dangerous look in his eyes that were back to watering like taps.

"She's breathing, you do not intubate."

"Eddie-"

"Once it goes in, it won't come back out. I won't lose them- I can't… not again."

His trembling hand ran across his face, scratched at his eyes and dragged down his jaw until tainted crimson marks were left clawed down his face. If they intubated it would make (Y/n) worse, it would make her more suceptible to giving up and needing life support. Eddie wouldn't risk it. Her breathing wasn't great, but she was still breathing and that was enough for now.

She was pregnant with internal injuries, for all they knew, the baby was crushing down on (Y/n)'s organs and causing her breathing difficulties. No one was in doubt that she would need a C-section and surgery to fix any internal damage. She might breathe a lot better once the baby was born.

But Eddie wouldn't intubate, not for anything. He wouldn't have history repeating itself, seeing his wife laid here just like his ex-wife had years previous. He wouldn't lose another wife, and he wouldn't lose their unborn baby either.

His body shivered and he almost screamed when (Y/n)'s splintered wrist twitched at her side, followed by a guttural groan spluttering past her lips.

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Eddie bumped his knees into the gurney and gently laid his right hand on (Y/n)'s arm to stop her from lifting it and doing any damage or causing pain to her wrist. He moved his left hand and slowly carded his fingers through her hair, brushing it back so he could lean down and gingerly kiss the top of her head.

"Shh, it's okay amor, s'okay." He peppered a few soft pecks across her temple and down her cheek.

His thumb brushed up and down her arm to try and keep her still, he didn't want her moving about if she had internal injuries and rupturing something. But his heart broke in his chest for a second time when (Y/n) moved her other hand instead.

It took some effort for her to lift her hand and try to tap Eddie's arm, and she looked like she was about to fall unconscious once again. But when she managed to hold his arm, she tried to move his hand to her stomach.

"B-baby," She choked, briefly managing to focus her eyes on Eddie's worried face hovering above her. Her fingers danced across her stomach that twinged with pain at the slightest touch.

"She's gonna be alright, we're gonna take care of you." Hen's voice was soothing and comforting because she could see the look in Eddie's eyes.

He couldn't make promises. He couldn't tell (Y/n) that their baby girl was going to be okay, because he didn't know and he didn't believe it. He couldn't promise (Y/n) even to calm her down because if she remembered this conversation and he ended up being wrong, she could hold it against him.

All Eddie could promise was that he was going to do whatever he could to look after the pair of them.

He wouldn't lose another wife.

***

"Well? Eddie? Eddie, what's happening?!" Reaching forward, Buck curled his hands around Eddie's elbows, pulling his brother in law from the doorway so he wasn't in the way.

He had never known Eddie so light and unstable on his feet like this. When Buck moved him, Eddie almost fell down like a crumpled piece of paper.

He stumbled when he guided Eddie to sit in the chair and Buck was brasingly aware of the eyes burning into the back of his head. He could feel Bobby, Maddie, Chimney and Hen all gathered in the waiting area, trying not to get too close but they all kept edging closer.

They wanted to know the outcome.

The doctor had pulled Eddie aside to talk to him about (Y/n)'s condition. No one else had gone through. They were all family, but Eddie was the husband and that gave him precedent in this situation.

Buck crouched down in front of Eddie and gave him the lightest shake he could, not wanting to jostle him but he needed to get him to talk.

"Eddie." The insisting tone in Buck's voice finally seemed to snap Eddie out of his thoughts.

He lifted his head enough to look down at Buck through reddened eyes that had cried enough tears to flood an ocean.

"Her appendix had burst, she lost a lot of blood. Broken ribs, they had to set her wrist back in place, the bone was nearly shattered." The look in Eddie's eyes was distant, as if his body was here but his mind was somewhere else.

"Is she okay?" They both knew what Buck really meant. Was she alive? Had she lived through the trauma and the surgery? None of them knew what surgery she had gone for, just that she would be cut open and they would rummage around looking for injuries to correct.

"She has swelling on her brain, t… they put her in a coma, until it goes down."

No one knew how long that would take. (Y/n) could get a bleed on the brain if she already had swelling pushing down and causing pressure. Her body could shut down, her respiratory system could go into failure. So many things could happen that would make it undetermined how long the induced coma would need to last.

"And the baby?" Buck could feel his lower lip wobbling before he'd even got an answer.

It had been an unspoken agreement amongst them all while they waited that (Y/n) would be having a C-section today. There was no possible way she could go through that trauma and still keep the baby afterwards. That would put (Y/n) at a high risk for premature labour or having a stillborn. The baby's best chance would be to be born now and it would take pressure off of (Y/n)'s body.

She could recover better without having to give her nutrients and resources to the baby. Her body wouldn't be stressed without the baby.

"In the neonatal unit. S-she's less than an hour old, and she has a fractured arm." A flood wave of tears began to pour down Eddie's face. "Do you know h…how hard it is, to break a baby's bone while they're still developing?"

The darkened look that crossed Eddie's eyes made Buck lean back on his heels like he suspected his brother in law might go as far as to lash out at him.

It was harder to break a baby's bone while they were still in the womb because the bones weren't calcified or properly bonded yet. But Eddie's youngest baby girl still had a fractured left arm which meant the nurses would have to pin her tiny arm to her chest to stop her from moving it and causing herself any pain or another injury.

"They're gonna be okay-"

"Really? I lost Shannon this way. I- I've buried my first wife, and now- now I'm gonna have to do it all over again!" The pitiful wail Eddie let out made Buck start to shake and he was relieved when Bobby came over to them.

It didn't matter that Eddie and Shannon had been legally separated when she died, or that Eddie had just gotten into a relationship with (Y/n) at the time. He had still been there when she died and she had still been his first wife. Eddie had buried her. He lost her. And now, in an eerily similar accident, his second wife was in peril and might not make it.

He couldn't lose (Y/n) too. She was everything to him. She was the best part of Eddie and if she died, he wouldn't make it through life without her. He couldn't lose her too. He couldn't be left widowed with four children to look after and no one there beside him.

(Y/n) was his everything.

Buck shook his head to try and shake the memory from his mind. A deep sigh rumbled past his lips when he approached the intensive care unit. He could feel his hands subtly trembling at his sides and he tried to stop the shivers from coursing up and down his spine. He moved one hand to rub across his jaw and down his chin, holding his breath to try and regulate his system and stop him from going into a panic attack.

He couldn't remember the last time he visited anyone in this part of the hospital. The last person he visited in the hospital would probably of been Maddie when she had Jee two years ago. And that was entirely different to this.

When he came to visit three days ago, (Y/n) had been in the trauma ward, they hadn't moved her until she had stabilised and Buck knew what that meant. They wouldn't move her because she had been close to death.

At least her being up here meant she was being taken care of and she was stable, even if she was still in a coma.

He could feel his breaths running away without him once he reached his sister's room. Every part of Buck felt like it was shutting down when he tepidly knocked on the door and gingerly stepped inside.

The sight was exactly what he had been expecting.

Eddie, slouched forward in the chair beside the bed. Both hands clutching (Y/n)'s hand. Hair just starting to become greasy with desperate need to be washed. Face looking gaunt, with purple rings beneath his eyes and pale skin verging on grey.

He was starting to sport some stubble, which on any other occasion would have been normal. After all, Eddie used to have a beard when Tilly had been born and she had cried when she was a toddler and she saw him clean shaven for the first time. But Buck knew he wasn't shaving because he didn't have the energy or feel like he had the time. He didn't want to leave (Y/n) longer than to head to the bathroom.

He wasn't taking care of himself.

As expected, his sister hadn't moved or changed. It was a relief when Buck first saw his little sister that she didn't have an intubation tube in. Since having the operation and subsequently having the baby, her breathing had picked up and she was breathing better on her own now. She still had an oxygen tube taped beneath her nose to boost her system, but at least she didn't look like she was choking on a plastic tube.

"Hey," Buck shuffled into the room and slouched down on the end of the bed next to (Y/n)'s ankle. He leaned over her and rested his hand on her leg, patting gently to let her know that he was here.

"Morning."

"Afternoon." Buck corrected with a saddened expression when he watched Eddie glance up at the clock on the other side of the room. A sigh passed Eddie's lips and he released one hand from (Y/n)'s so he could drag his hand along his face and wake himself up.

With a tired smile, Buck leaned back and clicked his spine into place while he looked at his brother in law. "You look like shit."

A grimace flashed across Eddie's face and he glared across at Buck. He wasn't in the mood to joke around, and he knew exactly how he looked. There was a mirror in the toilets that Eddie had successfully been avoiding for the last few days.

That didn't warrant a response and Eddie couldn't be bothered to reply. All he cared about was being here when (Y/n) woke up. That was his aim and he didn't care how he looked when that happened, as long as he was here.

"Eddie, go home for an hour. See the kids-"

"I'm not leaving her." He couldn't look away from (Y/n) to meet Buck's eyes. His right hand stayed clasped around (Y/n)'s while his left hand cupped the bottom of his chin and held his head up. He had been holding her hand since he walked into this room three days ago and he only let go when he went to make a phone call or a trip to the bathroom. Even when he went to sleep, Eddie still had hold of his wife somewhere.

"I'll stay with her-"

"I watched Shannon die, I held her hand and listened to her last words. I can't do that again. I have to stay until she wakes up."

Eddie's last memory of Shannon was holding her hand in the ambulance and watching her pass right in front of him. He had heard her last words, he had felt her grip loosen on his hand. He saw the light fade and her breathing come to a stop. He couldn't wash away that memory no matter how hard he tried. And Eddie couldn't stop imagining that memory repeating itself with (Y/n).

To combat that thought, Eddie wanted to hold her hand and wait until she woke up. He wanted to feel her squeeze his hand and see her open those beautiful eyes and speak to him to wash away the worry that he was going to bury another spouse.

"You need some rest and a wash. You think (Y/n) will be happy seeing you in this state?"

"No." Eddie couldn't curb the anger that snapped in his voice as he finally looked Buck in the eye. "I think that when she wakes up and realises she's not pregnant anymore, she's gonna panic. Do you really wanna be the one to tell her she's had a preemie and then gone into a coma?"

Eddie knew as soon as (Y/n) woke and came to her senses, she was going to be frightened. She would realise she wasn't pregnant anymore and Eddie had to be the one to tell her he'd consented to a C-section while she was unconscious. He had to tell her they'd had their second daughter and that she was down in the neonatal unit. Eddie had to explain.

"The kids are scared. Eddie they don't want me, they need to see you, just for an hour, for a hug and so you can tell them why you aren't there and where (Y/n) is. They're crying for you."

A broken sound escaped Eddie's lips and he dropped his head down like his neck had been hacked with an axe.

He was torn. He had Chris, Paul and Tilly at home all needing him, but he couldn't be in two places at once, and he couldn't leave (Y/n) or the baby. When he wasn't here with (Y/n), he had been down in the neonatal unit where his little baby girl was. Eddie couldn't split himself apart for his family no matter how badly he wanted to.

When Eddie didn't respond and the tears continued to pour down his face, Buck pushed up to his feet, feeling Eddie's eyes upon him.

"Get changed and liven up. I'm bringing them down here when I get them from school."

Eddie did as he was told because he knew the expression on Buck's face was one not to be trifled with.

He took a quick wash, got changed into some of the clothes Maddie had dropped off for him yesterday when she realised he wasn't going to go anywhere. And he downed two cups of coffee to liven himself up and stay awake.

He was just on his way back to (Y/n)'s room from the coffee machine down the hall when a familiar scream caught his attention and had him turning on his heels. He set his third cup of coffee down on a nearby desk and crouched down just in time for Tilly to barell into him with her arms open wide.

Eddie could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he scooped his little girl up and bound her to his chest. The four year old gripped his neck so tightly he could barely breathe, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

His lips attached to the side of her head and he pressed dozens of kisses to her skin, swaying from side to side. Stood there with Tilly in his arms, Eddie suddenly felt horrid for leaving her for three days. He felt like he failed all the kids and it made him more grateful that Buck had gone to stay at his house to look after them and keep them calm.

"There's my baby. Are you okay?" He murmured against her cheek, pulling back enough to look down at her. He found himself smiling when Tilly unlocked her arms from his neck and moved her hands to pat his cheeks.

He took the liberty not to shave after he got a wash, it felt like too much hassle and the stubble would only grow back while he stayed here with (Y/n). Tilly seemed happy. She always preferred when Eddie had stubble or grew a beard.

"Missed you."

"I missed you too, baby. So much." Eddie pressed a flushed kiss to her cheek before he crouched down when he saw the boys hurrying his way.

Paul ran ahead and when Eddie opened his free arm, the six year old barrelled into him and burrowed into his chest.

"Daddy!"

"Hi buddy, are you okay? Have you all been good for uncle Buck?" He kissed the top of Paul's head and leaned forward when Chris finally came over to them. He burrowed into Eddie as much as he could with his two younger siblings in the way and earned a kiss to his temple.

"We've been good." Chris murmured and when Eddie stood up to his full height, Chris leaned into his left side. While he had Tilly in his arm and Paul attached to his other leg. All three of them looked up at him, waiting for answers as to why they were at the hospital.

All they knew was that something had happened and their dad was staying here with their mum.

"Where's mummy?" Paul apprehensively looked around the corridor as if (Y/n) would appear from round the corner and hug them all. He wanted to see her. He had been dismayed when Buck had turned up to pick him up from school every day instead of (Y/n). He wanted his mum.

Looking around, Eddie slowly moved over to the seats lined up against the far wall and slumped down. He adjusted Tilly so she was sat on his knee and managed a soft smile when Chris sat next to him and Paul clambered on his lap to sit squashed up with Tilly. He wasn't missing out on any affection.

He briefly looked over at Buck and when Buck pointed at the room, Eddie nodded. He could go ahead and sit with (Y/n) while Eddie explained the situation to the kids.

He looped his left arm around Chris, pulling them all into his chest as he tried to gather the right words to say.

"There was an accident the other day, and mum got a bit hurt. I don't want her to be on her own, so I've been staying here with her."

"What about baby?" Tilly gently patted her hand against Eddie's abdomen just to make it clear what she was referring to. She had found it highly amusing that (Y/n)'s stomach had started to grow, although she hadn't been impressed that she would no longer be Eddie's only little girl, or the youngest sibling.

"Mummy had to have the baby early, she's being looked after in the baby ward because she's a bit sick." When Eddie heard Tilly mumble 'it's a girl?' he managed to roll his eyes playfully and grin as he kissed her forehead. "You know it's a girl."

They had told the kids they would be having a sister, but Tilly didn't want to believe it. She wanted a brother so she would be the only girl.

"What's her name?" A soft tone flooded Paul's voice as he looked up at Eddie with a curious glimmer in his eyes.

Eddie didn't want to say anything and set the name in stone, but he and (Y/n) had agreed on a name when they found out they were having another baby girl. And he was going to have to tell the nurses soon, they couldn't keep calling her Baby Diaz. And Eddie would have to file the birth certificate too if (Y/n) didn't wake up from the coma in the next few days.

"Ella."

All the kids nodded and he heard Tilly mumble "That's pretty," as she seemed to become lost in thought.

"What's wrong with mum?" Chris leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder, looking pointedly ahead so he didn't have to decipher whether Eddie's expression was grave or relaxed. Because he didn't really know if he wanted the answer to his question or not.

"Well… she's broken her wrist in a few places, so she has a cast on, and a few ribs too. And they had to take out her appendix, but she hit her head, so for now, mum's asleep. Once she's a bit better in a few days, the doctor will wake her up and we can think about bringing her home."

"You're staying for more days?" The agony in Paul's voice made Eddie's lip wobble and he fought hard to stop himself from bursting into tears. He reeled him closer and kissed his forehead, snuggling down into a cuddle with all of them.

"Just a few more days, baby I promise. But you can come and see me and mum and the baby, we can all go sit with mum for a bit now. She won't be awake, but she can hear us. It won't be for long."

The swelling was still applying pressure on (Y/n)'s brain. She needed to stay in a coma until it went down and her body was recovering. The coma allowed her body to settle and start to heal with as little stress as possible. And Eddie needed to stay with her, but the kids could all visit every day after school and if he could bring himself to, Eddie would go home with them one night this week and spend the night at home to keep them all calm.

It wouldn't be for much longer, Eddie was sure of that. But while two of his girls were in peril, Eddie just had to stay with them.

***

Eddie could feel his eyes starting to burn from lack of sleep, but his mind wasn't going to let him fall asleep just yet.

He had barely slept all week since the accident. The one night he managed to get some sleep had been the night before last night. He had gone home to stay with the kids and all three kids ended up in bed with him. Eddie went to sleep with one boy tucked under each arm and Tilly curled up on his chest, and it had done the trick. He got almost eight full hours of sleep with the kids and it had been just what he needed to stop him from collapsing from exhaustion.

He would of gone home last night, but the doctor said (Y/n) was finally in a state where they could bring her out of the coma. So Eddie stayed here last night and had been waiting all morning for (Y/n) to wake up.

Once she was awake and had been checked over, Eddie would message Buck and when the kids finished school, Buck and Maddie were going to bring them down to see her.

All the kids had been down every day to see (Y/n) and they all visited Ella in the neonatal ward. Tilly had been very nervous when she realised her sister was in an incubator with wires and tubes surrounding her.

She didn't like how small Ella was, or the oxygen tube going up her nose or the IV lines in her skin and the feeding tube going through the umbilical cord. It was all upsetting and frightening for Tilly, whereas Paul seemed to think of it as a bit more normal. And Chris, being the eldest, had more of an understanding and he hadn't been afraid to reach in the incubator and stroke his sister's arm for a while.

He ran a tired hand up and down his face before he shuffled forward, perching on the very edge of the chair so he could be as close to (Y/n) as possible without lying on top of her.

His left hand entwined with hers and his right hand began to smooth up and down her arm. He had been sitting to (Y/n)'s left so he could hold her hand because her right hand was cemented in a cast going from her knuckles to halfway down her forearm.

She was starting to wake up.

The medication had been administered a while ago and Eddie had been waiting for her to properly come around. The nurse's station was right outside so if there were any problems or complications, Eddie could fetch someone quickly to come and help.

"That's it amor, wake up for me." Eddie leaned over so he could pepper a few kisses up and down (Y/n)'s arm as she twitched and started to murmur.

He couldn't quite make out what she was saying, but after a week of watching her lay here like Sleeping Beauty, any noise was like music to Eddie's ears.

He watched with eagerness flooding his eyes when (Y/n)'s eyes finally fluttered open. She looked drowsy. She looked as rough as Eddie felt and to anyone else, they wouldn't have believed she had been in a coma for a week.

Eddie couldn't help himself, once her eyes started to look around, he pushed out of the chair and moved to sit on the side of the bed next to her. He glided his fingertips up and down her arm and moved their entwined hands to rest on his lap.

"Baby, are you with me?"

The confusion was clear in (Y/n)'s eyes, but when her eyes focused on Eddie, hovering over her like an angel cast in a glowing light, he was all she could see. Her hand tightened around his and she couldn't help but groan, twisting to try and gain some movement and some feeling back.

Her right hand moved, but the moment her heavy limb was within her sights, (Y/n) gasped and dropped her arm back down at her side.

Why was her arm in a cast?

Eddie leaned over to press a tender kiss to her temple, but (Y/n) let go of his hand and looped her good arm around his neck. A quiet 'oomph' left Eddie's lips when she practically pulled him on top of her. He could feel her breathing rapidly into his neck, barely taking in a proper gulp of air and she was starting to shake.

"E-Eddie?" Why did her voice sound so croaky and quiet? Why did her throat feel dry and scratched and parched?

"It's alright baby, I'm here." He pecked her cheek and pulled back enough so that he could reach down for the bed remote. He tilted the bed up at an angle so (Y/n) was sitting up rather than lying down to help keep her awake and bring her round a little more.

A sorrowful look flooded his eyes and he began raking his hand up and down her thigh to try and keep her calm. She looked like a frightened rabbit. Her eyes kept looking around the unfamiliar room, her body was starting to tremble and she was twitching her right arm like she wanted to move it but didn't dare now that it was in a cast.

He stayed quiet while (Y/n) ripped the oxygen tube from beneath her nose and tossed it off the side of the side of the bed.

A soft smile flooded his lips when (Y/n) watched him with a thousand questions fluttering across her face and burning within her eyes. But before she managed to ask any of them, Eddie watched a look of horror wash over her face instead.

Both her hands moved down, pulling away from him and his eyes followed her before he bit down on his lip when he watched her hands desperately start roaming across her stomach.

A horrid gurgling cry left her lips and Eddie cringed when (Y/n)'s hands pressed down on her stomach hard enough to cause pain, despite the morphine in her drip. She pressed the heel of her palm and the flat edge of her cast down onto every part of her stomach she could reach, practically elbowing Eddie when he tried to stop her.

(Y/n)'s hands pressed down until she was mewling and crying even louder. Where was the baby? She was pregnant. Why didn't she have her bump anymore? Why was her stomach soft and squishy and half deflated like the previous two times she had given birth?

She hadn't had her baby. She was only thirty weeks pregnant, there was still ten more weeks left before she was supposed to go into labour. She hadn't been in labour. She didn't remember when or why she came into the hospital, but (Y/n) knew for certain that she had been pregnant before she came here.

Another scream left her lips as she coiled in on herself, leaning forward with her hands imbedded into her stomach and her knees pulling up towards her frame.

Her body began rocking back and forth when Eddie tried again to grab her hands, but she shook him off.

"(Y/n)-"

Eddie scratched his nails down the side of his neck when (Y/n) shook him off for a third time with as much force as she could muster. He didn't have chance to move before she tossed the cover over his lap and yanked up the hospital gown she was wearing. Her right hand slumped down at her side, useless in her cast. But her left hand started to scratch into her stomach and she groaned in agony and fright when she dragged her fingers across the stitches littering her skin.

There was a row of neat stitches along the very bottom of her abdomen near her underwear and then another row of five small stitches on the right side of her abdomen.

Who had cut her open? Why had they done that? Why did Eddie let them butcher her?!

"Baby, stop." Eddie curled his hand tightly around her wrist and pulled her hand across to rest on his lap. He watched her gown drop down to her thighs once again and he moved his left hand to cup her face, tilting her head up in his direction so they were looking at one another.

"Eddie- Eddie, I- ohh," Tears continued to fall down (Y/n)'s face and she sniffed, trying her best to gain back her breath but she breathed like she had just finished running a marathon.

"Amor, hey, it's alright, just look at me."

"The baby… w-where is she? Eddie the baby! I- I was-"

"Mi amor, breathe. Breathe with me." He nudged his temple against hers so their noses brushed and his lips curved into a soft smile to try and calm her down.

He controlled each breath he took to encourage (Y/n) to copy him and breathe with him. His lips pressed a tender, soft kiss against her wet lips covered in salt tears. Two more kisses had (Y/n)'s breathing calming back down to a more regular pace and Eddie was assured she wasn't going to pass out or send herself into a panic attack.

"I was pregnant." Her voice was so tepid and broken that it made Eddie's heart shatter into a million splintered pieces.

"You were in an accident, baby. You got knocked down, we brought you in, but the doctor had to do a C-section."

"No…"

"Baby they had to, she was distressed. But she's here now and she's in the neonatal unit, she'll be here for a few weeks, but then we can take her home. She'll be fine."

(Y/n)'s eyes darted down to her stomach again and she dared to try and run her hand across her stomach but she couldn't wrap her head around it. The last thing she remembered was being at home with Eddie before he left for work. She had kissed the kids goodbye. She kissed Eddie goodbye, she remembered him kissing her stomach and telling her he would see her later.

It wasn't right that she had had her baby without knowing it. She'd never had a C-section with Paul or Tilly. Eddie had been with her both times she'd had the kids and she had been expecting this time to go the same way.

"Is she okay?" Shuffling forward, (Y/n) pressed her cheek down on Eddie's shoulder and tucked herself as close into his chest as she could manage. Her left arm looped around his torso while she felt Eddie's arm cocoon around her waist and his other hand curled around the back of her neck.

He kissed the top of her head and took a few moments to relish in the touch before he answered.

"She's got a fractured arm and she- she's only three pounds, but she's okay. A few weeks and she can come home with us."

A quiet sob burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat. She had gotten their baby hurt. She shouldn't have been born yet, it was too early. She shouldn't have a fractured bone when she was so tiny and fragile.

"Hey, hey it's okay. We're lucky she's strong, all the nurses say how well she's doing. You got banged up though, they had to set your wrist back in place, and you've broken four ribs. The surgeon removed your appendix because it had burst in the collision but…"

He wasn't quite sure how to word the last part. It wouldn't be the easiest thing to learn that not only had she been through enough trauma to make her miss the birth of their daughter, but she had also been out cold for a week since then.

"Amor, you had some swelling on your brain, they put you in a coma to let you rest. You had the C-section a week ago."

He felt the way (Y/n) shivered against him and her hands clutched into his back, but the way she shook her head against his chest made him sigh. He kissed the back of her head as (Y/n) smothered her face down into his sternum and let out a low whine.

"A w- a week? The kids, are they… Eddie," She broke off into a sob while Eddie gently swayed them from side to side, brushing his thumb against the back of her neck while he kissed her head repeatedly.

"Buck's been watching them for me and they've been keeping an eye on you. They'll be coming this afternoon to see you."

(Y/n) nodded into his chest, trying her best to stop crying, but she couldn't seem to manage it. She wanted to see the kids. She wanted to have them in her arms and go and visit their newest addition. She wanted to make sure their little girl was actually alright and see how she was fairing.

After all, (Y/n) hadn't seen them for a week.

[jo-speaks-deactivated20251004]

short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) masterlist

jo's september series inspired by sabrina carpenter's album, Short N' Sweet!

taste ft. luke hughes

in which…

you know you'll always be present in luke hughes' life, even if you aren't together.

please please please ft. jack hughes

in which...

you're aware of jack hughes' reputation with girls, but you know he’ll be different with you.

good graces ft. quinn hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

quinn hughes realizes you'll be okay, with or without him.

sharpest tool ft. jack hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

jack hughes never saw the relationship as anything serious.

coincedence ft. luke hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

luke hughes thought he could keep the other girls a secret.

bed chem ft. quinn hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

even though you just met him, something about quinn hughes is irresistible.

espresso ft. luke hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

luke hughes can't get enough of you.

dumb & poetic ft. luke hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

luke hughes always knew what to say, even though he didn't mean it.

slim pickins ft. quinn hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

the perfect man for you may not exist, so you figure quinn hughes will do.

juno ft. jack hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

you can picture a future with jack hughes.

lie to girls ft. jack hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

you give jack hughes a much needed reality check.

don't smile ft. quinn hughes (coming soon!)

in which...

while some see it as shitty, you want quinn hughes to miss you.

[eleutherafairy]

SMOOTH TALKER — luke hughes

── (★) SUMMARY. in which luke and the reader have an issue when it comes to luke's (over)yapping

wc. 1250

WARNINGS. n/a

find my masterlist → here! notes. in celebration of luke's birthday <3

luke has always been the talker in your relationship. one thing about him is that he will never shut up. he always told you from the start that he’s one to hate the silence and has a slight fear about having awkward gaps in conversations where both people don’t talk. 

you on the other hand hated making small conversation– unless it was necessary. guess that is why you and luke got along so well.

whenever he would talk, you would listen and give him that reassurance that he was looking for. that was something that you picked up early in your relationship.

luke really needed your reassurance whenever he was going off in a tangent or his little rambles. he liked making sure that you were listening and that he had your full attention.

there was one instance where luke was starting to get on your nerves. that man would never shut up and you just wanted a few minutes of calm to recollect your thoughts.

you were stressed over one of your lab assignments that was due in a few days and yet none of your lab partners were helping you out on your assignment. it was worth 65% of your grade and yet none of them showed up during the meeting you set up and none of them had the decency to send a text in the group chat.

“so he told jack and then jack told quinn about what had happened and then quinn told mom who then told dad who made sure that we were able to play that day. and then last week when i went to the course with jack, he shot seven over par and missed the putt like twelve times so he decided–”

“luke, honey, can you give me a few minutes?” you asked, on the verge of breaking down.

luke stopped in his tracks. 

“wait, why?” he asked, stopping mid-sentence.

“i’m trying really hard to figure this out and i just can’t with your nonsense right now,” you spit out, upset. 

“oh, okay,” he mumbled, leaving from his place on the couch to your shared bedroom.

you clearly upset him and you immediately felt apologetic for snapping at him. you could have told him in a nicer way, but you were too overwhelmed to chase after him when you had this to figure out. 

taking a deep breath, you grabbed your bag and haphazardly shoved some of your school materials to get ready to head to campus to meet up with your professor who was overseeing your research with the group.

you wrote on a post-it about heading to new brunswick and to your research building and how you would be back in a few hours.  

after four hours, you were heading home and drained from crying, studying, and doing research. after talking to your professor, she was able to give you an extension and allowed you to complete your own research without your group. she also told you do just not even tell them that you were not working with them and leave them on your own. 

you sighed as you pulled into the parking garage of the apartment complex and thought about your conversation with luke. it was now 8pm and luke should have been home and back from practice. 

luke’s car was parked in one of the assigned parking spots and you grabbed your backpack and a bag of desserts that you picked up from his favorite bakery in brunswick before heading up. turning your key into the door, you were expecting luke to be in the living room either watching sports recaps or attempting to play wordle on the tv. 

it was dead silent but the kitchen light was on and a bowl of pasta was sitting on your side of the island. your heart dropped because even though he was still mad at you, he wanted to make sure that you still ate. 

placing your stuff on the coffee table, you made your way to your shared bedroom and knocked on the door. 

“honey, are you in there?”

“you can come in.”

luke was laying in bed and was curled under the blankets watching something on his phone. taking off your layers, you laid next to him, curling up to his warmth. you wrapped your arms around his chest and luke shifted towards you, grabbing your hands. 

“i’m sorry,” luke said, running his thumb over your knuckles. “i uh made you dinner on the counter. i left the heating tray on so it should be warm still.”

“i’m sorry for yelling at you. you didn’t deserve it and i shouldn’t have lashed out on you,” you said, apologizing as well. “i- uh have just been so stressed and i was just thinking about myself when i told you that you were saying nonsense.”

“it’s okay. you should have told me you were working on something important and i would have just sat and held your hand or something,” luke said, pouting.

that is something he always did. holding your hand. luke loved being in your company. if he wasn’t talking, he would be somewhere lurking in your presence. you would be on the couch, curled up next to him like a cat as you watched some of your lectures on the tv, taking notes on your ipad. while you would write notes down on your ipad, he would run his fingers all through your body. every now and then you would mumble incoherent thoughts (chemistry nonsense – luke’s words) and luke would nod, encouraging you.

you smiled at the memory before responding to him. 

“i got you some pastries from that bakery,” you said, sitting up from the bed. 

the shifting of your body caused luke to sit up as well. 

“wait, really?”

“yes, sweet boy,” you said, turning to face him. 

his hair was all disheveled and he had a pout forming from you leaving his side to get up.

“you’re too cute,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his nose.

you went from the bed and into the closet to get change– the overwhelming need to change from your lab attire hit you. you pulled on one of luke’s old hockey hoodies and a pair of sleep shorts before heading into the living room where luke was already sitting with his treats.

smiling, you grabbed your pasta from the counter and sat next to luke. that didn’t last long however as he pulled you into his lap immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist. he pulled up one of the game tapes he had to watch and mumbled softly to himself– going over some defensive techniques.

you sat in silence as he spoke through his though process, finishing your dinner. after you finished eating, you got up to wash the dishes and grab a sweet treat from the freezer. as you sat back down, luke settled you back into his lap, his eyes never leaving the tv. 

after his tape was done playing, he turned off the tv and started playing around with the rings decorating your hands. 

“so what were you saying about jack and his inability to putt earlier?” you mumbled out.

“i thought you weren’t listening?”

“i always listen to you luke,” you replied.

“oh. well jack missed his putts which led him to go from first to last in the last nine holes and it was hilarious. i sent quinn a video and oh my god- i have to show it to you too,” luke excitedly blurted out, taking out his phone to show it to you.

luke was the sweetest boy ever, even though he was the biggest talker you knew.

[ithinkimokeei]

[wineauntie]

I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND — luke hughes x gf!reader

summary: Luke Hughes is a clingy person. here’s four times everyone around you found it excessive and the one time they didn’t.

note: I missed writing for Luke <3

warnings: use of she/her pronouns and y/n, fem!reader, luke being clingy and all lovey.

1. first day at the lake house

“You’re here!”

You stumbled backwards as Luke’s body engulfed you, the force from his run down the driveway to meet you, pushing you back. His arms held you tight to his chest, your body squished in his firm hold. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in three weeks, due to you visiting family, and to say the boy missed you would be an understatement.

“Missed you,” you breathed out, manoeuvring your arms around his waist.

"I missed you more," Luke mumbled into your hair, his voice low, only for you to hear. His grip tightened as if he feared you might disappear again if he let go. You could feel his heartbeat drumming against your chest, fast and steady, as you leaned further into his warmth.

Luke didn’t move, relishing the feeling of you in his arms.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised, giving him a warm smile.

Luke's grip tightened even more for a moment before he finally loosened it slightly, just enough to pull back and look at you. He smiled, a soft, relieved smile that made you want to melt, a smile reserved solely for you.

"Good," he said simply, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Because I don't think I could handle it if you did, three weeks was enough.”

"Well, I'm here now, and I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon." You laughed softly, the sound soft and muffled against his chest.

"Oh god, look at them! Absolutely horrible."

You slightly broke away from Luke, as Jack’s teasing voice carried across the driveway. You glanced towards the sound, noticing both Quinn and Jack watching the two of you. You raised your hand bashfully and waved at both of the brothers.

"Luke, you're so clingy, man!" Quinn groaned, his eyes rolling as Luke turned to fake laugh at them.

"Yeah, seriously," Jack added, his lips drawn back into a smirk. "You act like she’s been gone for a year or something."

"Shut up, you two," Luke called back, rolling his eyes, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn't help but laugh along with them.

"It's okay, Luke," you reassured, looking up at him, as he pulled you in for another kiss. "I like that you're kind of clingy."

His lips met yours in a delicate kiss as Jack and Quinn both groaned

“Disgusting, dude!”

“Get a room!”

2. the boat day

The boat bobbed gently beneath you from where you were seated comfortably on Luke's lap, his arms wrapped securely around you as you leaned against his chest.

The sun was shining down on Michigan, leaving the perfect opportunity for a boat day. A few friends of the brothers were scattered around the boat, chatting and laughing, soaking up all the sun they could.

Every so often, you felt Luke's lips press a light kiss to your shoulder or his fingers brush against your arm. His head rested atop of yours, the hum of his heartbeat thrumming beside your ear.

"You know, she’s going to melt onto your lap, if you keep her there all day," Quinn teased from the wheel of the boat, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked over at you both.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile as Luke buried his face in your neck.

“I’m comfortable, thanks." He mumbled against your skin, his lips pressing against the fading purple he’d marked you with last night.

"Yeah, I bet you are,” Jack snorted before settling his gaze on you. “You know you’re stuck with him like this… he hasn't let you out of his sight since we got on the boat."

“Not just on the boat!” Cole called out from the bow of the boat.

Luke chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. "Can't help it," he said, kissing the top of your head. "I like having her close."

"You both need to cool off, I mean we all knew Luke was clingy, but this is a new level,” Trevor piped up from the bow, “I feel like we need to start calling you Velcro for you to stop."

From beside Trevor, Cole tilted his head back in a small laugh, nearly losing the drink in his hand in the process.

Luke chuckled along, but his hold on you didn't loosen. If anything, he seemed to pull you even closer, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“You two are almost sickening,” Coke taunted with his lovable smile.

“Jealous, Caulfield?” You finally asked with a raised brow that was paired with a teasing grin.

"You caught me," Cole feigned a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his heart.

You giggled as Luke suddenly stood up with you in his arms, the boat steady on the water.

“Luke, I swear,” you threatened, clinging to your boy as he approached the back of the boat.

“Didn’t you hear Trevor, sweet girl?” He mused, nose brushing your cheekbone. “We need to cool off.”

Without another word, Luke jumped into the water with you still firm in his hold, a soft scream escaping your grinning lips.

3. the party

The Hughes brothers were known for their annual summer party filled with various friends and NHL players, and tonight was no exception. The house was alive with loud music and laughter, all of which you’d ended up getting lost in when trying to grab a drink.

You wandered through the crowd, looking for a drunken Luke. Your boyfriend had been given a ‘get out of jail free’ card from his brothers for this years party.

Luke could drink what he wanted as long as he was responsible enough.

You’d gotten separated from him when you’d gone to get water for Luke and yourself, and now you searched for your boyfriend’s curly mop amongst the crowds.

Meanwhile, Luke was on the other side of the house, clutching an almost emptied beer and animatedly talking to Jack and Trevor, who both watched with signature shit-eating smirks. Luke’s face was flushed, whether from the alcohol or his words, it was hard to tell.

"You don't understand," Luke slurred, waving his hand. "I love her so much. Like, really, really love her."

"We know, Luke,” Jack rolled his eyes, prying the drink from his younger brother’s hands. “You've told us about a hundred times tonight alone."

"Yeah, man, we get it,” Trevor laughed, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re head over heels…but, where is she?"

Jack shot Trevor a glare, knowing his younger brother would instantly lose his shit and be intolerable when alerted to the fact you were nowhere to be seen.

Luke's eyes widened suddenly, his heart dropping as he looked around the living room for you.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I lost her,” he stammered, running a hand through his mussed curls. “She's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I lost her!”

Jack put a hand on Luke's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Relax, Luke,” Jack reassured, placing down his beer. “She probably got caught talking to someone, she’ll find us eventually."

“Y’know I didn’t believe Jack when he said you're like a lovesick puppy,” Trevor began, his eyebrows raised. “I’m starting to believe him now.”

"I can't help it," Luke briefly with a pout, his eyes flitting around the room, entirely focused on finding you.

Just then, you turned the corner into the living room and spotted the trio amongst the crowd. Your heart did a tiny, little flip at the sight of Luke’s puppy-dog eyes scanning the room desperately.

His head suddenly snapped in your direction, and a huge grin spread across his face. You sheepishly smiled and wiggled your fingers in a wave as the boy jumped to his feet

"There she is!" he practically shouted at Jack and Trevor, making his way over to you with surprising speed given the crowd.

When he reached you, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting your feet off the ground slightly as the drinks in your hands splashed dangerously. You shook your head at the smell of alcohol wafting from him, knowing how extra clingy he managed to get when slightly intoxicated.

I was so worried," he mumbled sadly into your ear, as you handed him the water and tilted your head to listen. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I was just getting some water for us,” you hummed, combing your free fingers through his unruly curls. “I was just looking for you too."

He set you down but kept you close, his eyes serious despite his tipsy state.

“I love you so much," he spoke earnestly, his tone almost pleading. "I can't even explain it…you make me so happy."

You felt a warmth spread through you, his drunken words filling your heart. You knew that despite his intoxication, your boy was an absolute sucker for you.

"Love you too, Luke,” you softly answered, “…now I think it’s time you drink that up, you don’t want to be sick in the morning.”

Jack and Trevor, standing a few feet away, exchanged amused glances, watching as Luke admired you as if you were the rarest diamond amongst countless lumps of coal.

“He’s down so bad,” Trevor whistled, raising his own drink to his lips as the two watched you talk away to Luke who steadily drank the water you’d given him.

“Oh, bud,” Jack sighed, pinching his brow. “You’ve got no idea.”

4. dinner with the hughes family

You nervously fidgeted with the rings on your fingers as you stood outside of the restaurant beside Luke. Tonight you’d be having dinner with the Hughes family, including Ellen and Jim, at a fancy restaurant.

You’d met Luke’s parents multiple times before but your nerves still shook. You were never a severely social person and you were terrified that one slip-up around his parents would cost you the greatest relationship you’d been in.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Luke mumbled, breaking your stupor as he took your fidgeting hands in his own. The two of you had driven together whilst Quinn and Jack had opted to pick up their mom and dad.

“They already love you,” Luke continued, his thumb smoothing gentle circles over your skin, his eyes locking with yours. “Mom won’t stop asking me about you, there’s no need to be worried.”

He bent down ever so carefully and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, almost instantaneously relieving most of the nerves swirling in the pit of your stomach. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. Luke’s reassurance helped a little, but you couldn’t completely shake the nerves.

He leaned in, his arm wrapping around your waist as he led you inside

As you walked into the restaurant, the two you weaved your way towards the rest of the Hughes family at a table near the back. The four of them were already seated, causing your stomach to knot.

That knot, however, loosened as soon as you witnessed Ellen's face light up when she saw you, and she immediately stood to give you a warm hug.

"There you guys are!" Ellen spoke with a smile that reached her eyes, her gaze locked on you. "It's so good to see you again."

"How have you been?" Jim offered a friendly nod from his seat as Luke helped you pull out your own before sitting down in the middle of you and Jack.

"I've been good, thank you. How about you guys?" You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease, Luke’s hand intertwined with your own, squeezing lightly as if to anchor you.

Throughout the dinner, your boyfriend never strayed far from you, whether it be his hand resting reassuringly on your knee under the table, brushing a hair out of your face, his fingers smoothing circles on your palm or his leg brushing against yours.

Every so often, Luke would lean over to whisper a sweet nothing or joke in your ear, making you laugh and easing your simmering nerves. He'd even tried to sneakily press a kiss to your temple or cheek, which you’d rolled your eyes at. You loved how clingy your boy was but you didn’t want to make dinner awkward with excessive PDA.

When the main courses were served, Jack leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked between you and Luke.

“You know, Mom, Dad, we've got to talk about something," he grinned, still glancing between the two of you.

"Oh?" Ellen asked, her eyes flitting towards Jack.

"Yeah, it's about Luke,” Jack tried to stifle his chuckles. “Ever since he bagged y/n, he's been like superglue,”

“He can't go five minutes without her," Quinn added with a shit-eating smirk.

"Hah, hah, so funny." Luke rolled his eyes, squeezing your hand, as heat rose to your cheeks.

"Oh, you boys,” Ellen chuckled, shaking her head as she wiped her mouth on a napkin. Her kind eyes fell on yours as you winced. “Out of the three of them, Luke's always been the affectionate one.”

You ducked your head with a bashful smile and squeezed Luke's hand as he watched you with love-shining eyes.

+1. the aftermath of dinner

You and Luke walked just slightly behind his brothers and parents as you walked towards an ice cream shop the family typically frequented during the summer. Your arms were linked as Luke babbled on about anything and everything, your full attention on him.

Ellen glanced back, a warm smile spreading across her face as she watched Luke lean in to whisper something in your ear, causing you to laugh softly. His arm was draped casually around your shoulders, fingers tracing light patterns on your arm.

“Look at them,” Ellen murmured to Jim, who allowed himself to look back.

“They're good together,” Jim replied, his voice filled with pride. “I don’t think I’ve seen him so happy without skates under his feet.”

“Remember when he used to be that shy, quiet kid who wouldn’t even look at girls, let alone talk to them?” Ellen chuckled, linking her arm through his. “Now look at him, head over heels.”

“Yeah, he’s grown up a lot…and she’s been great for him.” Jim hummed, “You can tell he’s more confident, more sure of himself.”

As everyone reached the ice cream shop, you and Luke lagged a bit further behind, completely lost in your own little world. Ellen watched as Luke stopped to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours. He seemed to say something else that made you gently hit his arm and giggle before he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Luke was a very clingy person, so much so that at times it could be classed as disgustingly overwhelming, but you didn’t care.

He was yours to keep and you loved every clingy bone in his body.

[ithinkimokeei]

[wineauntie]

Luke, you are such a loser, I am enamoured by you 🫶🏻

[bitchinbarzal]

Runaway Groom | N Hischier

summary: Nico’s getting married and he thinks he’s got the wrong bride.

-

“He wants you there schatzi” Katya mumbled, sipping her coffee across from you.

You shook your head “Yes but she doesn’t… I’m ok just seeing the pictures after”

You watched her eyes drop and her mouth pull into a tight line “Y/N, we thought it would be you”

Your stomach sinks and you smile softly “Yeah… but it’s not and I’m ok with that. I want Nico to be happy”

His mom wanted to reply, tell you he’d be happy with you. That his smile isn’t as wide with her as it is with you.

But she didn’t. She just squeezed your hand.

Their wedding is all anyone was talking about the week before; the welcome drinks, the rehearsal dinner, the church, the party.

You were tired of hearing about them. They could go back to New Jersey now for your liking.

The night of the rehearsal dinner had you getting ready for the gym when your front door opened and you heard the familiar voice shouting

“Hallo?”

“Timo?” You yelled back, puzzled

“I’m here to pick you up!”

Your head pokes out of your bedroom “for what? Why are you wearing a suit?”

He looks puzzled “Nico and Rosie’s welcome dinner?”

You laughed “I’m not going to that”

“Why not?”

“Because i don’t want to? I’m sorry did everyone just forget that me and Nico are ex’s?”

Timo rolls his eyes, entering your bedroom and beginning to rake through your wardrobe, pulling out a dress.

You stumbled for a moment seeing it again, the dress you wore to Nico’s captain’s dinner. The team had thrown him a fancy dinner in the city to celebrate him becoming captain and you wore that red dress.

“Put this on, you’ve got five minutes” he informed, shoving the dress into your hands and walking out.

Before you walked out the house you looked at yourself in the mirror and huffed “It’s only two hours… two hours you got this!”

Nico’s family were elated to see you walk in the door, diverting their attention all to you.

You didn’t see him but Nico also diverted his attention to you, his grip on his soon to be wife’s hand slipping as he spotted you in that dress.

The last time he saw that dress it was on the floor of your bedroom.

Your eyes scanned the room, finally falling on him. You gave him a soft smile and he reciprocated until he noticed your hand placed firmly in Timo’s.

There was nothing there but he couldn’t help but feel his gut twist. He was getting married and thinking about you.

Throughout the night you were stopped by various teammates and their partners all expressing just how much they missed you.

“I always thought this would be you” Klara, Jonas’ wife comments and you can only give a tight smile

“Rosie is lovely, no?”

“She doesn’t know him like you… he’s not the same”

“Nico decided I wasn’t what he wanted” is all you could say before venturing off somewhere else.

You wanted to go home. You were tired of hearing about how it should be you.

That night when you arrived home, you checked your phone which you’d subsequently left on the nightstand after being rushed out the house.

Only one notification stood out. A text from Nico.

it meant a lot to see you tonight, take care of yourself schatzi.

Your thumb hovered over the text pad, considering a reply. You stared at the words so long you didn’t notice the tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Fuck, Neeks” you cursed, throwing your phone onto the bed and gripping at your hair in frustration before you picked the phone back up again and dialled his number.

“Hel-“

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare call me names, I’m not yours anymore Nico! You remember? You broke up with me!” You sobbed, so angry and frustrated. You were overwhelmed.

“Schatzi… don’t cry”

“Nico” you mumbled, the exhausted tone of your voice evident on your words.

He sighs “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have text you… it was a lot to see you tonight”

You scrunched your eyes closed in an attempt to stop the tears falling.

“Will you be at the wedding tomorrow?” He mumbles, somewhat hopeful.

You paused, silent so much so he asked “Can you hear me?”

You nodded, not that he could see you “I can hear you Neeks”

“Neeks” you chuckled “It’s been so long since I heard that”

“I’m not coming, this is probably the last time we can ever speak again…”

Nico bit his lip on the other side of the phone, tears now in his waterline. The weight of this on his shoulders.

“I can’t lose you Y/N”

“You lost me the day you broke up with me… you don’t get the best of both worlds. Goodbye Nico, good luck at the wedding” you mumbled, pulling the phone away and hanging up.

You threw your head back and cried out a strangled cry “Fucking Hischier!”

The next morning you lay in bed, the longer you were in your bed the less you had to face the real world.

It wasn’t until twelve you rolled onto the side of your bed, where your phone was charging. Your notifications were crazy.

Multiple missed calls. Texts. Voicemails.

Before you could read them, Nina was calling you.

“Hello? Ni what’s going-“

“Where is Nico?!”

You frowned “at his wedding? Aren’t you-“

“He’s not here! They’re all panicking he’s just disappeared and we can’t find him” she cried out, you could hear other panicked voices in the background specifically Rosie’s

“I’ll call him” is all you said, hanging up and staring at your reflection in the black screen “Hischier… where are you?”

You had tried calling him with no answer, leaving multiple voicemails. You grabbed your keys to head out the door when you spotted him, sitting out on your porch.

You opened the door, making your way to the porch swing and sitting next to him. Nico didn’t speak, just looking out at the mountains.

Your head dropped to his shoulder “Neeks she’s waiting for you”

He sniffled “This was supposed to be us”

You nod, grabbing his hand in yours “But it’s not, it’s you and Rosie. Nico you gotta go back to her”

He finally looked at you, his eyes rimmed red “What if I don’t? What if I just stay here? Would you have me?”

You swallowed loudly “Nico, I love you so much and if you ever came to me before I’d say yes but you don’t want me you’re just confused”

He shook his head “I love you! I’m not confused… I want this, I want you! This, this house! This life!”

The house was bought by Nico, at your request your Switzerland home had to be in the countryside. He let you have it after the breakup.

The two of you were inches apart, tears streaming down both of your faces “Neeks…”

“Kiss me” he mumbled, holding the back of your head waiting for your move. You did. You leaned up to capture his lips in yours, his tongue slipped past your bottom lip into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss before pulling away and pecking his lips once more “Hell of a last kiss”

“No, not a last kiss” he says and you look sadly

“Nico, let’s go…”

“Where?”

“To your wedding”

He wanted to argue, tell you he was going to stay but you looked at him with an expression that told him he didn’t get a say.

At the church you stood outside the doors, just enough time to spare. He’d got changed at your house, trying to fix his red and splotchy face as much as you could.

Outside the church entrance you stood hand in hand, Nico staring at you sadly “I don’t want to lose you”

You shook your head softly, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him softly and mumble

“You’ll always be mine even if I’m not yours”

He couldn’t answer before his family came out, shouting at him where he was. You smiled softly and whispered something about leaving before you turned around and walked away.

He watched you walk back to the car, watching you walk away from him for the last time.

[zelfanswhenshecan]

Luna wtf is this in sitting here like 😟😟😟 put them back together

[solip1386]

A lot of athletes are a little shy at first, but considering that they were brothers, they had that family connection. It was a lot easier than it usually is when it's just one guy by himself - Marcus Smith, Photographer