#LIKE HE JUST MAKES ME LAUGH AT THIS POINT

[dreamscapeee222]

You have poor eyesight

Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce, Mel

A/n: Really rushed with this lol but it should be fine. Bon appetit!

Masterlist

Vi

Vi would tease you lightly, calling you "four-eyes" if you wear glasses or joking about how "the world looks better blurry anyway" if you don’t. But it’s always said with a grin that lets you know she loves you just the way you are.

If you struggle to see something, Vi would be the first to step in and help. She’d guide your hand to what you’re looking for or describe things in vivid detail, making it fun so you don’t feel self-conscious.

She loves holding your hand when you're navigating unfamiliar areas, making it feel less like a necessity and more like an excuse to stay close. “Stick with me, short-stack. I’ve got your back.”

On lazy days, she’d trace your face with her fingers while you lie together, her voice soft as she murmurs, “Doesn’t matter what you see—what matters is what I see, and that’s someone amazing.”

During tender moments, she’d lean down and say, “Guess it’s lucky for me you didn’t see someone better,” before kissing you deeply.

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn would be the most practical about it, immediately asking if you need updated glasses, a new prescription, or anything to help. She’d even offer to bring you to Piltover’s best optometrist.

If you ever feel embarrassed about squinting or losing your glasses, she’d cup your chin and kiss you softly, whispering, “You’re beautiful, no matter what you see.”

She’d make sure everything in your shared space is organized and accessible for you. If you have trouble finding something, Caitlyn would quietly place it in your hand with a soft, reassuring smile.

During late-night talks, she’d lean in and kiss you gently, her voice soothing as she says, “You’re all I see. Nothing else matters.”

Caitlyn would take pride in making sure you never feel limited. If there’s something you can’t do because of your eyesight, she’d offer a solution or alternative with a warm smile and unwavering support.

Jinx:

Jinx would definitely make a big, dramatic show of it. She’d wave her hands in front of your face, asking, “Can you see this? What about this?!” just to make you laugh.

When you’re struggling to spot something, she’d hop on your back and point things out like a pirate’s lookout, making it a game to cheer you up.

If you wear glasses, she’d insist on decorating them with stickers or doodles, saying, “Now you’ll be cool AND functional!” She’d giggle while planting a quick kiss on your lips.

She’d secretly learn what frustrates you most about your eyesight and try to fix it in her quirky, Jinx-like way. Can’t see far? She might rig a telescope gadget for you, proudly presenting it with a kiss on your hand.

On days when you’re down, Jinx would surprise you with a flurry of kisses, peppering them all over your face until you’re laughing and feeling loved again.

Ekko:

Ekko would always notice when you’re struggling to see something, immediately stepping in to help with an encouraging smile and a cheeky, “I got you, babe.”

If you bump into something or get flustered, he’d grin and say, “You’re cute when you’re clumsy,” before kissing you gently to soothe any embarrassment.

He’d tease you lightly about your poor eyesight but would always make it clear he finds it endearing, pulling you in for a kiss and saying, “You see just fine where it matters most—right here with me.”

Ekko would love playing little games to cheer you up, like making a guessing game out of blurry objects or using his time manipulation to "rewind" your stumbles into something graceful.

He’d keep his arm around you when you're out together, using it as both a guide and a silent way of keeping you close. “You’re safe with me,” he’d whisper, leaning in to kiss your temple.

Viktor:

Viktor would carefully modify things in your environment to make them easier for you, like adding soft lights or adjusting your work tools. “A small improvement,” he’d say, his voice full of quiet pride.

If you wear glasses, Viktor would always take care of them for you, cleaning or fixing them without a second thought. “Your vision matters to me,” he’d say, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

He’d encourage you not to see your eyesight as a weakness, softly saying, “We all have limitations. But you overcome yours beautifully,” before kissing your forehead.

Viktor would love moments where you rely on him to guide you, using it as an excuse to hold your hand or pull you close.

He’d craft personalized solutions for any frustration you have, making sure you never feel like your eyesight limits your abilities or independence, always ending his gestures with a soft kiss of reassurance.

Jayce:

Jayce would constantly reassure you about your eyesight, saying, “If anything, it just makes me want to take care of you more,” before sweeping you into a warm hug and a kiss.

He’d invent practical yet adorable solutions, like a glasses case with your favorite design or a magnifying gadget you can wear around your neck for convenience.

If you ever bump into something or squint at something too long, Jayce would chuckle and ruffle your hair, saying, “You know you can just ask me for help, right?” before guiding you.

He’d love making you laugh when you’re frustrated about your vision, pulling you close and joking, “Good thing I’m here to be your eyes AND your muscles.”

During quiet moments, Jayce would hold your hands and kiss each one, looking into your eyes and saying, “You don’t need perfect sight to see how much I love you.”

Mel:

Mel would handle it with quiet grace, always ensuring you feel comfortable. She’d notice the things you struggle with and adjust without making a big deal out of it—like moving a book closer to you or pointing out details you might miss.

She’d gift you stylish, luxurious glasses or accessories, always making sure they feel like a part of your personality rather than a necessity.

When you’re squinting at something, Mel would smirk and lean in close, her breath brushing your skin as she whispers, “Need a closer look?” before kissing you sweetly.

If you ever feel frustrated, she’d sit beside you, gently holding your hand and saying, “Let me share my vision with you. Together, we can see the world clearly.”

Mel would use your eyesight as an excuse for more intimate moments—holding your face in her hands, guiding your gaze to hers, and kissing you softly to remind you that you’re loved.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. SFW only.

@self-aes request: Good day. I want to write a headcanon about a reader with poor eyesight/wearing glasses. How characters from arcane will interact with him. I want to see Vi, Caitlin, Jinx, Ekko, Victor, Jace, Mel. Sorry if you see any mistakes (English is not my preferred language, I checked with a translator)

[imaginaryf1shots]

Forced | Max Verstappen Ver

WC: 22.2K

Max x reader

Summery: Jos made a deal years ago that he can't get out of, and Max is the one to see it through.

Warning ⚠️: abuse(mental, physical), a little naive reader, slight ptsd, eating disorder implied, depression and suicidal thoughts, mention of parent death, family abandment, cursing, Jos being an ahole, injuries

AN: Dark one. Read the warnings.

SAT THERE EDITING SINCE THE RACE JUST SO I COULD GET IT OUT TODAY!!

Masterlist

Max Verstappen

Charles Ver., Carlos Ver.

How he ended up here was a mystery to Max, but here he was, sitting in a private room at some overpriced restaurant, his father on one side and a stranger across from him. Across from him sat the man he only knew as Mr Wilkins, his sharp eyes practically dissecting Max with every glance.

Max prided himself on being observant. He noticed the little things, the subtle shifts in behaviour, the unspoken tells. And tonight, Jos Verstappen was a man he barely recognised. His father, usually so confident and composed, was jittery, avoiding Max’s gaze, his hands restless against the polished table. Jos had been skittish for days, dodging every question Max had thrown at him. And now, this.

“Have you told him?” Wilkins’s voice cut through the tension, cool and unwavering. His question was directed at Jos, but it hit Max like a stone.

Max glanced at his father, his stomach twisting, this is what his dad has been dodging all week. “Told me what?”

Jos’s gaze fell to the table. He didn’t answer.

“I see you haven’t.” Wilkins said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Looks like I’ll have to do it myself.”

Jos shifted uncomfortably, his hand reaching for his glass of water but stopping halfway. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?” He asked, his voice low and almost pleading.

Max froze. Pleading? Jos Verstappen didn’t beg. Not for anyone. Wilkins, however, remained unmoved, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

“You knew the price all those years ago.” His tone was ice-cold, unyielding.

 “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Max’s patience snapped, his voice cut through the room, loud enough to draw attention if there had been anyone else around. Wilkins chuckled, clearly amused by Max’s agitation.

“Relax, Mr Verstappen.” He said smoothly, as if the situation was nothing more than a business transaction. “You’re about to receive some… life-changing news.”

Max didn’t relax. He braced himself, his instincts screaming that whatever was coming next would flip his world upside down.

“I’m sorry.” Jos’s voice was barely a whisper, and when Max turned to him, his father’s face was pale, his eyes fixed on the table.

“Well, congratulations are in order.” Wilkins announced, his smirk widening. “You’re a groom.”

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the room. Max blinked; certain he’d misheard.

“A groom?” He laughed, but it was hollow, a sharp bark of disbelief. He pointed at himself. “Me? You must be joking.”

 “Oh, I assure you, I’m quite serious.” Wilkins’s expression didn’t waver. Max’s laughter died instantly. His body stiffened, his hands curling into fists on the table.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not even seeing anyone!” He turned sharply to his father, his voice rising. “What is he saying? What’s going on? And what did you do?”

Jos flinched, his hand shaking as he reached for his son. “L-look, Max, I-I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did.” Wilkins leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as if settling in for a long story. “Let me make this simple, since it’s clear your father hasn’t explained. Many years ago, Jos and I made a deal. I did him a favour, quite a significant one, might I add, and now it’s time for him to repay it.” Wilkins slid a crisp document across the table. Max barely glanced at it. His glare was fixed on the man who’s trying to upend his life. “My business is failing.” Wilkins continued smoothly. “And I need investors. Your father, with his connections and not to mention his three-time world champion son, can help me secure them. And what better way to cement that relationship than a marriage?”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Max’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to keep his voice steady.

“Everything.” Wilkins said, his eyes gleaming. “Because you, Max, are the key to this entire arrangement. And let’s be honest, you’d do anything to protect your father, wouldn’t you?”

The insinuation hit like a slap. Max’s gaze darted to his father, whose face crumbled under the weight of guilt.

“I don’t get it,” Max muttered. “What could you possibly have over him?”

Wilkins’s smirk turned razor-sharp. “Oh, I have plenty. How about the fact that Jos embezzled money to secure his career in Formula 1? Or that he cheated his way into a few deals? One word from me, and the media would have a field day. And prison? Well, Jos knows what that’s like already, doesn’t he?”

Max’s stomach churned. He pushed back his chair, the screech of metal against wood cutting through the tension. Grabbing his phone, he stood, his movements sharp and final.

“I’m not doing this.” He said, his voice firm, resolute.

“Max, wait!” Jos half-rose from his chair, grabbing his son’s arm. “Please, just… think about it. Please.”

Max wrenched his arm free, his glare slicing through his father’s desperation. “Think about what? Selling myself off like some business transaction? No.”

“It’ll be good for your image,” Jos added hastily, his tone desperate. “And Wilkins’s daughter—she’s beautiful. Maybe just… meet her. Talk to her.”

Max’s head snapped towards Wilkins, his eyes narrowing. “Your daughter? You’re offering her up like some bargaining chip?” He scoffed, the disgust in his tone cutting deep.

Wilkins shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Believe me, she’ll be happy. And I know she’ll make you happy.”

Max’s gaze flicked between the two men. His father looked like he was on the verge of breaking, while Wilkins appeared positively delighted with himself. The chaos fuelled him; it was written all over his face.

Max exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it.” he said finally, his tone clipped. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, ignoring the sound of his father pleading with Wilkins behind him.

Max went back to his house, the penthouse he shared with his cats. His mind was swirling with emotions and ideas. There must be another way, there had to be. How could they expect him to marry someone he’d never met before? They were acting as if it was as easy as picking up groceries.

His phone pinged with a notification.

It was from his dad. Clicking on their chat, Max barely glanced at the attached picture of you before reading the text below it:

He gave us one week before you have to get married.

Max cursed under his breath and threw his phone, watching as it clattered against the floor, startling his cats.

The week crawled by painfully. It took Jos a few days to show up at Max’s door, trying to convince him. Jos pleaded, guilt-tripping Max at every opportunity. He even showed Max your Instagram profile, scrolling through pictures and pointing out that you weren’t a forever commitment—that marriage didn’t mean he had to be faithful. Jos insisted that Max could continue living his life as usual.

In the end, it wasn’t the arguments or assurances that drove Max to the courthouse; it was the love he had for his father.

Max sat stiffly in front of the officiant’s office, dressed in a blazer, a white shirt, and jeans. He refused to dress up more than that for what felt like a mockery of a commitment. Jos sat beside him, restless, while Max’s thoughts churned. The clock ticked away, but you and your father were nowhere to be seen.

Max glared at the door. Power play, he thought bitterly. Being late was a way to assert control, to make them wait, to show who was in charge.

When Wilkins finally arrived, his booming voice preceded him, pulling Max out of his thoughts.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Max stood without sparing a glance at the group, opened the door to the officiant’s office, and walked in.

You entered moments later, your smile soft but strained when your eyes met Jos’s. Wilkins’s hand gripped your arm tightly as he led you inside, his fingers digging into your skin. You kept your head high and your posture straight, despite the discomfort. When he lets go, you instinctively rubbed your arm but quickly stopped, aware of everyone’s eyes.

Max didn’t look up. He sat rigidly in his seat, staring at the officiant, his jaw set.

“I won’t take long.” The officiant began, sliding a paper in front of Max. He’s clearly paid by your dad. Max grabbed the pen and signed without hesitation, not sparing you a glance. When the paper was passed to you, your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the pen. You signed where indicated, your expression composed, but there was a flicker of hesitation before each stroke.

“Good, nice and easy. Now exchange the rings.” The officiant said.

Max hadn’t brought rings. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jos, however, handed him a pair of simple bands, evidently having planned for this.

Max took a steadying breath and turned to you. His gaze faltered for a moment. He hadn’t expected this. You were... breathtaking.

For a moment, he hated that it mattered.

The smile you wore didn’t waver, though it was faint and polite, not reaching your eyes. Max took your hand. Your fingers felt fragile in his grip, trembling slightly, yet he didn’t notice the faint pressure marks on your skin from Wilkins’s grip earlier. He just slid the ring on, his movements mechanical.

You took his hand with quiet care, slipping the ring onto his finger with the same delicate precision, avoiding his gaze. When it was done, Max pulled his hand back quickly, rising from his seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Wilkins’s voice was sharp. Max froze mid-step, his shoulders tense. “You forgot your wife.” Max turned slowly, glaring at Wilkins. His father’s chuckle grated against his nerves. “You didn’t think just signing papers was enough, did you? You’ll take my daughter with you.”

Wilkins placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, making you flinch slightly before quickly composing yourself. Your smile shrank further, barely there.

Max’s eyes flicked to you. Your white dress clung to your frame, the heels on your feet absurdly high. You looked... smaller somehow, standing next to your father.

“Come on, then.” Max said brusquely, turning and heading for the door.

Wilkins leaned down, whispering something in your ear. You nodded quickly, not daring to respond aloud. You hurried after Max, your footsteps soft but purposeful.

Outside, Max’s car—a sleek Aston Martin DBS—waited. You moved to the passenger side without a word, glancing briefly at Max as you settled into the seat. Your hands rested in your lap, clutching your handbag tightly.

The drive to his penthouse was suffocatingly silent. Max glanced at you occasionally. You sat stiffly, your head slightly bowed, offering no conversation. By the time you arrived, Max began to wonder if you ever spoke at all.

Inside the penthouse, Max’s cats greeted him with meowing and weaving around his legs. He crouched to pet them, finding brief solace in their presence.

When he stood, you were still by the door, shoes off, holding them neatly in one hand. Your other hand gripped the strap of your handbag, knuckles pale.

“I’ll show you the guest bedroom,” Max said.

“Thank you.” Your voice was soft, measured, almost hesitant.

Max frowned. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the sound of your voice caught him off guard. It was far more subdued than he’d imagined.

You followed him quietly, your movements careful, as though unsure of your place in this space. You take a 360 degree look before your eyes fall back on Max.

“There’s a bathroom attached. If you need anything, let me know,” Max said as he stood at the doorway.

“Thank you.” Your response was the same, polite but distant.

Max closed the door behind him and leaned against it briefly, exhaling. You were too calm, too composed. It unsettled him. You weren’t angry or demanding. You weren’t protesting or pushing back.

That left only one possibility. You wanted this.

And Max despised you for it.

You sat on the bed in the guest room, unsure of what to do with yourself. The room was luxurious, similar to your bedroom back home, a little homier though. Looking around, your eyes landed on the large windows.

Walking over, you pulled back the sheer curtains and opened the window slightly. A salty breeze wafted in, carrying the faint hum of the city below. There were no buildings obstructing the view, just the harbour and the vast expanse of sea. The sight was breathtaking, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.

Your fingers twitched, an old habit resurfacing—a need to occupy yourself. But there was nothing to do. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves. You were in a stranger’s home, married to a man you didn’t know.

Last week, your life had been structured to the minute. You’d had your schedule, your tasks, your carefully planned routine dictated by your father. Now, there was nothing. No orders. No tasks. You bit at your nail beds, the nervous habit making a quiet comeback as you sat back down on the bed.

The hours dragged by. At some point, you lay down on top of the covers, staring out the window. The sky shifted from blue to orange as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Hunger gnawed at you occasionally, but you didn’t dare leave the room.

Max had gone about his day as if nothing had changed. He’d spent time on the simulator, played a few rounds online with friends, and entertained his cats. For a moment, it was easy to forget you existed.

It wasn’t until he was sitting on the sofa, scratching Sassy behind her ears, that he noticed the wedding band on his finger. The sight brought him back to reality. His eyes narrowed as he realised, he hadn’t heard a sound from the guest room all day.

“Ridiculous.” he muttered, standing abruptly. He hesitated for a moment outside your door before knocking lightly.

When there was no immediate response, Max opened the door to find you sitting up on the bed, your dress slightly wrinkled and your legs tucked beneath you. You blinked at him, startled.

“I was—” Max cleared his throat, his eyes flicking over you briefly before settling on your face. “I’m ordering food. What do you want?”

“Anything.” You replied softly, your voice timid and polite.

Max’s jaw tightened. Of course, he thought bitterly. The perfect act.

He scoffed and left, the door closing behind him with more force than necessary.

When the food arrived half an hour later, Max knocked on your door again.

“Food’s ready.” He said flatly, turning and walking back to the dining area.

You emerged hesitantly, following the faint sound of Max unpacking containers. He placed a box in front of your spot at the table before sitting down with his own.

You opened the box to find a chicken pasta dish with a side of garlic bread. The sight made you pause, your brows furrowing slightly.

“What?” Max asked, catching the look on your face. “You don’t like pasta?”

Quickly, you schooled your expression into a neutral smile. “No, I like it. Thank you.”

Max narrowed his eyes, noting the sudden shift in your demeanour, but said nothing.

The meal passed in near silence, punctuated only by the occasional clink of cutlery. Max finished his food quickly, while you ate slowly, taking small, measured bites, just like you were taught. When he set his fork down, you did the same, despite having barely finished a third of your meal.

Gathering your food containers, you stood and asked quietly, “Which way is the kitchen?”

Max pointed in the direction, watching as you disappeared briefly. You returned a moment later to collect his empty containers.

Max was perplexed by your actions; you haven’t been there for 12 hours and you’re already confusing him.

From the dining room, Max could hear the sound of water running, followed by the opening and closing of cabinets. When you returned, he sighed and stood.

“I’ll show you around.” He said curtly.

You followed silently as he walked through the penthouse, pointing out the various rooms. The tour ended at the door to your guest room. Taking that as your cue, you nodded politely and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you.

The next morning, you woke early, unsure of what to do. You slipped your strapless bra back on, skipping your underwear, and pulled your dress from the day before over your head. It was wrinkled but all you had.

When you ventured out, you found Max in the living room, scrolling through his phone. At the sound of your soft throat-clearing, he looked up.

His eyes swept over you briefly, taking in the rumpled dress and your heels. “Getting married again today?” he asked, his tone dry.

 “Sorry. I... I don’t have any of my clothes with me.” You flinched slightly but forced a small smile.

Max stared at you for a moment, realisation dawning. He hadn’t considered that you’d arrived with only your handbag.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Without another word, he disappeared into his bedroom, returning a moment later with a plain shirt and a pair of shorts. “These don’t fit me. You can wear them.” He said, holding them out to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, taking the clothes and retreating to your room. When you emerged a few minutes later, you were wearing his oversized shirt and shorts, which hung loosely on you.

For some reason, Max found himself staring. You looked better in his clothes, he thought absently, before shaking the thought away.

“Can I go out for a bit?” You asked hesitantly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Max replied, already turning back to his phone.

While you were out, Max got a call from one of his friends, inviting him to meet up for the day. He took off his wedding ring and left the apartment. He forgot about the rough week he’d been having and went out to eat and relax with his group of friends. It wasn’t until around 8 p.m. that he headed home.

As he reached his floor, the automatic lights flickered on, revealing your figure slumped against the front door. You were sleeping with shopping bags scattered around you, still in his clothes, his shorts slid up showing your legs, just like the dress did, and your heels discarded by your side.

Max scoffed, walking past you and unlocking his door without a word. He glanced back at you, deliberating for a moment. Should he leave you there? Or wake you up?

Before he could decide, Jimmy sidestepped him and jumped onto you, his head diving straight into one of the bags. That was enough to stir you awake. You jolted up, confused and disoriented, clearly not remembering when you’d fallen asleep.

"Jimmy! Come here," Max called, clicking his tongue. The cat ignored him, making Max sigh in annoyance. He looked down at you—those wide, innocent eyes staring up at him—and felt an unfamiliar mix of irritation and concern.

"Get inside," he said firmly.

You scrambled to your feet, still groggy, grabbing your bags and shoes, but not before Max noticed something red flash from the corner of his eye. He didn’t focus on it, though.

“My dad said your things would arrive in the next couple of days.” Max added casually, as if it was just another piece of information. You paused, turning to him.

"Uh, okay." You muttered in response, quickly retreating to your room.

Max narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. He was trying to be polite, trying to make things work. Here he was asking his dad about your things, all he got was that meek “okay.”

He closed the door behind you, then went to feed his cat.

He didn’t hear or see you for the rest of the day.

Two days later, two suitcases arrived. You rolled them to your room and opened them with a mix of dread and resignation. Inside were clothes you hadn’t bought and wouldn’t have chosen for yourself. But they were all designer brands, the kind of things you could sell if you needed the money.

You didn’t want to think about it, but you knew you had no choice. You had to get by somehow.

The week went by with Max either going out, working or gaming. You spent all day in your room, but you had seen Max’s nutritionist’s list he had left in the kitchen one day. Seeing the food he’s supposed to eat, all of it you could make. You memorized his food schedule and started preparing his meals, waking up earlier than him, just to make sure everything was ready. By lunchtime, the smell of food would fill the apartment, but Max never caught sight of you. He never heard you.

The first couple of days in his house missed with your sleeping schedule, so you’re awake way before he does, you memorised when he usually wakes up. So, he’d find food ready for him.

Days stretched on endlessly. You passed the time by reading the few books in your room, but there was no TV, no distractions. You stayed in your room, alone, only leaving to prepare Max’s meals or feed the cats. They started to visit you more often, meowing at your door, and you’d let them in. It made the days a little less lonely, even if the fear never really went away.

Despite everything, it was still better than your life in Switzerland. Better than the life your father had forced upon you.

One day, the doorbell rang. Max was engrossed in his simulator, the headset muffling the sound entirely. After the fourth ring, you hesitantly left your room to see who it could be. Half-asleep, you padded into the living room, noticing Max still focused on his sim in the corner.

Opening the door, you froze as your heart plummeted. Standing there was your father.

"Did someone come?" Max called out from the living room, removing his headset. You shrank back, taking a few steps away from your father. Max rounded the corner, his sharp eyes darting between your pale face and the men at the door. “What are you two doing here?” He demanded, his tone already hard.

“We came to talk about what comes next.” Your father replied, his voice steady but full of implication. Max stepped closer, his presence solid and unmoving beside you. Unconsciously, you edged backward, positioning yourself slightly behind him as if to shield yourself. Max noticed your movement but didn’t say anything—not yet.

“Next? What next? We’re married.” Max shot back, crossing his arms. His posture was sharp, shoulders broad, making him look even more imposing.

“Yes, but how will I get investors if no one sees you two together?” Your father raised a brow, his gaze flitting to you. You froze under his scrutiny, feeling as though the floor might give way beneath you. His eyes moved past you into the house.  “Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Your father stepped forward, but Max immediately blocked his path, his stance rigid and unyielding.

“That’s not happening.” Max said through gritted teeth. “And neither is whatever scheme you’re planning. Now piss off will you.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into a sharper tone. “Listen here, boy—”

Max cut him off, stepping closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “No, you listen. I married your daughter. That’s the deal. How you get your investors is your problem, not ours. You don’t come here. You don’t ask us for anything.”

Your father’s eyes darted toward you again, making you whimper softly. The sound was barely audible, but Max caught it instantly. He shifted, positioning himself fully in front of you, effectively blocking you from view.

“Your daughter is mine. She’s my wife now. You gave her to me—your choice, your consequences,” Max growled. His words were deliberate, cutting.

Your father’s expression darkened as he leaned closer. “I can still expose your father.” He threatened.

Max’s gaze flickered to Jos for a moment before refocusing. He felt the faint tug on his shirt where your fingers clutched the fabric, trembling. Whatever hesitation he had vanished entirely.

“Then do it.” Max bit out, his voice cold and venomous. “Expose him. And when it all falls apart, you’ll suffer just as much as him.”

Without giving your father, a chance to respond, Max slammed the door in their faces.

The moment the latch clicked, your hand released his shirt, and you took a shaky step back. Max was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm himself.

“I’ll have to talk to security about keeping them out.” He muttered, his voice low.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, barely audible.

Max turned to you, his eyes softening despite himself. You were on the verge of tears, and it was written all over your face.

“It’s not your fault,” Max said, his tone gentler than you’d ever heard it before.

Before the tears could spill, you turned and hurried to your room. His cats trailed after you, their tails swishing curiously. Max stood there for a moment, staring after you, wondering when his pets had gotten so attached to you.

In your room, you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers tightly around you as emotions overwhelmed you. Seeing your father again stirred everything you had tried to suppress. This was the longest you’d ever been away from him. Even when he was on business trips, his presence loomed over you through cameras and speakers. If you stepped out of line, even slightly, his voice would thunder through the house, ensuring you never forgot he was watching.

No one had ever stepped up for you. The staff in your father’s home were emotionless, stoic—just following orders. No one had ever comforted you, protected you, or even looked at you with kindness.

But today, Max had stood up for you. Max, who barely tolerated your existence, had blocked your father and shielded you. Max who has no idea what kind of relationship you have with your father. Maybe it was out of anger or frustration with the situation, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, someone had been in your corner.

The realization hit you like a wave, and the tears came. You sobbed quietly, your body shaking under the covers. The loneliness is killing you, why are you even living, what do you do in your day, no one will miss you if you’re gone. You tried not to think such dark thoughts but times like this you couldn’t help it.

The cats jumped onto the bed, circling you. Sassy licked your face, her rough tongue brushing away some of the tears. You patted her head softly, whispering a thank-you under your breath. Maybe they’d miss you if you were gone.

The next morning, Max was by the door, bags packed for two weeks of racing. The apartment was eerily silent—something he usually didn’t mind. But after hearing you cry last night, the quiet felt heavy.

He’d paced in his room for hours, debating whether to check on you. Max might not like you, but he wasn’t heartless. He hated hearing anyone cry, especially women. When he finally decided to go to your door, the sobs had slowed, and he didn’t want to risk waking you.

Now, standing by the door, he hesitated again. Eventually, he knocked softly.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be gone for two weeks.” He said, his voice awkward but trying.

There was silence for a moment before your muffled voice came through. “Okay. Thank you.” It cracked on the last syllable, heavy with sadness. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Max replied, lingering for a second before leaving. He didn’t know what else to say, but he couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest.

Max had thought about you more than he’d like to admit. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, no matter how much he tried to push them away. He didn’t like you, he knew next to nothing about you. Yet, somehow, he felt much less dislike toward you now. The truth gnawed at him: he barely knew you. Still, he’d left you in his home with his cats and had lived with you for over a week before heading to the race.

For once, Max couldn’t wait to get home. He was the first out of the paddock, the first on the plane, and the first off it when they landed. By the time he walked into the house, it was nighttime. The air inside was cool and still, the lights turned off, and the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound.

Jimmy and Sassy came trotting out from somewhere, nuzzling into him in greeting. Max bent down to stroke them absently, his mind already drifting. He headed to the kitchen for a drink, opening the fridge. Frowning, he pulled out a bottle of water. Everything inside was exactly as he’d left it—nothing had changed. No empty shelves, no dishes used. The realization unsettled him.

Max closed the fridge and moved to the pantry, only to find the same: untouched, just as it had been before.

A strange thought crept in, and his chest tightened as he turned on his heel, heading to your room. Your door was slightly ajar, and alarm bells went off in his mind. You always kept it closed.

“Y/N?” He called softly, knocking lightly before pushing it open.

The room was eerily tidy. The bed was made with military precision, the same way his mother liked to do it. Nothing was out of place, nothing personal added. It was as if no one had lived in it at all. Max’s heartbeat quickened as panic set in. Where were you?

He searched the house—your bathroom, the laundry room, even his own bedroom. You weren’t there. Finally, he ended up in the living room, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

Jimmy meowed loudly, trotting toward the terrace door, which was slightly ajar. Max frowned and followed him, pushing the door open wider.

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

You were lying on the floor of the terrace, flat on your back, eyes closed. Sassy was curled up next to you, and Jimmy padded over to join her. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Max thought the worst.

“Y/N?” His voice wavered as he rushed over, dropping to his knees beside you. “Y/N?” He repeated, louder this time, hands hovering over you as though afraid to touch. “Are you okay?”

He shook you gently, then harder when you didn’t respond. “Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open with a sharp gasp, and you bolted upright—right into Max’s forehead.

“Fuck!” He groaned, clutching his head as you did the same.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, reaching for him instinctively. “I didn’t mean to—are you okay?”

Max glared at you, rubbing the sore spot. “I should be asking you that. Why the hell were you sleeping out here?”

You looked away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I wanted to see the stars.”

“In your pyjamas? On the floor? It’s freezing, Y/N!” His exasperation was palpable, but there was a hint of something else beneath it—concern.

You bit your lip, nodding, wishing you could disappear. “I’m sorry.”

Max sighed heavily, standing and extending a hand to help you up. “Come inside before you get sick.”

In the kitchen, under the bright lights, Max finally got a good look at you. You looked exhausted—darker circles under your eyes than before, your frame thinner, your movements sluggish. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was deeply wrong.

“Here.” You placed an ice pack wrapped in a towel against his forehead, your fingers brushing his skin lightly. Max caught the faint scent of lavender and something softer, uniquely you.

“I’m fine,” He muttered, gently taking the ice pack from you. “But you should have one too.”

You hesitated before nodding, fetching another ice pack for yourself. As you pressed it to your own forehead with a quiet hiss, Max leaned against the counter, studying you.

“Why didn’t you eat any of the food in the fridge?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes widened in panic. “I didn’t touch anything, I swear—” Your hands falling to your side brining the pack with you.

“Don’t put it down.” Your hands flew back up. “I know you didn’t,” Max interrupted, his tone softer now. “That’s the problem. What have you been eating?”

“I buy my own food.” You mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. Everything you do and say just confuses him more.

Max frowned. “And you don’t put it in the fridge?”

“I did.” You said quickly. “I just… ran out.”

His brow furrowed further. “You don’t eat anything from my food?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

Max stared at you, his chest tightening. “So, let me get this straight: you cooked meals for me, but you didn’t make anything for yourself because you didn’t want to use my food? Seriously, Y/N, what have you been eating?”

“Yeah.” You said it like it was obvious, you then hesitated. “I managed… Do you not want me to cook for you anymore?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Max sighed. “I’m saying you can cook yourself food while cooking for me.”

“But…” You trail off feeling embarrassed of what you have to say.

“What? Tell me.” Max said and you meet his eyes for a second before you look at the floor.

“Your food is expensive; I don’t have a lot of money.” You mumble and chew at your lip. Max stands there in silence, he knew your dad is going bankrupt but not enough to not have money.

“Your cards are empty?” Max asked, his tone a bit cold. It wasn’t directed or because of you, but the more he finds out about your dad the more agitated he gets.

“I uh, I don’t have a card.” You admit and put the ice pack on the counter, you try to escape the kitchen and this conversation.

“Wait.” You stop in your tracks and turn to face Max, knowing there’s no escaping this now. “What else are you hiding from me? How have you been paying for your food, and you went shopping on your first day?”

His eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced by your words, and your mind flashed back to that first week in Monaco, just after you arrived.

You had left the apartment, the weight of Max’s indifferent nod still heavy on your shoulders. Monaco was unfamiliar, but you’d lived in many countries—surely you could figure it out.

Walking into the first jewellery shop you found, you approached the counter with a timid smile. The attendant greeted you warmly.

Italic is French

“Bonjour, madame, how can I help you?”

You hesitated before asking, “Do you buy jewellery?”

The woman’s friendly smile faltered. “I’m sorry, madame. We don’t.”

“That’s alright, thank you.” You murmured, retreating quickly.

The next three shops were the same story, the polite rejections wearing away at your resolve. By the fourth, a kind attendant told you there weren’t any jewellery shops in the area that would buy second-hand pieces, but she gave you directions to one on the other side of the city.

Following her directions, you trudged through unfamiliar streets, the cobblestones cruel to your feet in towering heels. The mismatched outfit you got from Max, drawing unwanted attention and making the walk even more uncomfortable.

Finally, you reached the shop and stepped inside, relief washing over you.

“Bonjour, madame. How can I assist you?” The girl behind the counter asked with a professional smile.

“Do you buy jewellery?”

“Yes, we do. What are you looking to sell?”

You exhaled deeply, reaching up to remove the Tiffany Victoria stud earrings from your ears. “These.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she took them. “T-These?”

“Yes. Can you pay in cash?” This just got weirder for the girl, you bit your bottom lip, your smile is now gone. “Look, my-uh, my dad cut me off, I just need money to get by.”

The girl’s expression shifted from confusion to concern as she glanced at you. “Um… I’ll see what I can do. Please, sit down.”

You sank into a chair, your nerves fraying. you sat chewing on your nail bed, feeling nervous. When the girl returned, she wasn’t alone. A man accompanied her, likely the manager or owner.

“Ilaria tells me you want to sell these earrings.” He began, holding them up to inspect.

“Yes, please.”

His brow furrowed.

“Madame, these are worth over 27,000 Euros. Unfortunately, we don’t carry that much cash on hand.” You deflated, the man now knew what Ilaria was talking about, he feels bad for you, he glanced at your wedding ring and wonders what kind of husband you have that left you selling your belongings for money. “However, I can offer you 5,000 Euros immediately and pay the rest in instalments, or when the earrings sell. Does that work for you?”

You nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you.”

The man typed up a quick agreement on his laptop, printing it out for you both to sign. With the cash in hand, you left the shop feeling lighter, though the weight of what you’d done lingered.

The thrift store you passed on the way had looked promising, but once inside, you realised even second-hand items in Monaco carried hefty price tags. Thinking over the money you have and what’s the priority.You focused on the essentials: four shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of trousers, and two pyjamas. The total price had your eyes go wide. Shoes would have to wait—your heels would suffice for now.

On your walk back it was already afternoon, you didn’t have anything to eat yet. But that was alright because you were heading to a grocery store next.

The prices there were equally shocking, but you told yourself it didn’t matter—you didn’t eat much anyway. You picked up a few basics for the week and some fresh produce before heading to a shop for a few sets of underwear. Glancing at the money you have left when you paid had your heart clenching. Ordering online must be cheaper, if only you had a card.

By the time you returned to the apartment, your arms heavy with bags and your wallet considerably lighter, you knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. A second knock, then the doorbell, brought no response.

Your stomach dropped as you realised Max wasn’t home. Exhausted and hungry, you sank to the floor outside the door, rummaging through your grocery bag for a cucumber, eating it as you waited for your ‘husband’ to come back.

You waited until Max went to bed before you ventured into the kitchen to put away the food you’d bought. The rest, you stashed in your room. You didn’t want to inconvenience Max.

You were already using his bathroom products, which you assumed belonged to his mother or sister, but you tried to keep to yourself as much as possible.

The memory faded as Max’s voice brought you back to the present.

“How exactly did you manage?” He pressed, his eyes narrowing further.

Your shoulders sagged, and the words slipped out before you could stop them. “I sold my earrings.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “Your earrings?”

“They were worth twenty-seven thousand Euros.” You explained, your voice barely audible. “But they’re paying me in instalments, so it’s like I have a job. I didn’t realize how expensive Monaco is.”

He stared at you, unblinking, as the pieces began falling into place.

Max’s jaw clenched. “What about the clothes? I thought your dad sent your things.”

Your face fell, and you looked away. “I can’t wear what he sent me.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked, his voice gentler now. “Can you show me?”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t letting this go. Wordlessly, you led him to your room and opened the walk-in closet, both your ice packs forgotten in the kitchen. Pulling out the suitcases your father had sent, your hand was on the zipper for a while.

“You don’t have to show me.” Max said feeling that all this is bigger than he initially thought.

“It’s fine, it’s not my things anyway.” You said and unzipped the first one and stepped back.

Max crouched down, pulling out the first item: it’s a very small and tight crop top, the shorts will all show your butt, the jeans had rips on the butt cheeks or were skintight, and it’s coming from him. shirts were sheer, necklines low, and skirts that barely covered anything. His frown deepened as he opened the second suitcase—heels in every colour, some taller than seemed practical. The final suitcase made his stomach turn. It was filled with lingerie, nothing else.

He closed it with a sharp snap and turned to look at you. You were standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ll take you shopping this week.” Max said firmly. “Or you can order whatever you want online. No arguments.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I the got basics and when I need more, I can sell the other jewellery I have—”

“No, next time you want clothes I’m getting them for you” Max interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re not selling anything else. The food in the fridge is for both of us.” You wanted to retort, but he just continued. “Both of us may have not wanted this, but I’m not having you starve or spend money you don’t have. You’re my responsibility now.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, and your heart skipped a beat. Max Verstappen is the nicest man you have ever met. He looked so scary the first time you saw him and you dreaded living with him, but here he is, being the kindest soul, you have ever met. He won’t gain anything in return but he’s still nice, he’s kind. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe—truly safe. Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them back, nodding quietly.

“Okay?” Max asked, his gaze softening.

“Okay,” you whispered.

That night, the suitcases were left by the door for donation. Max watched as you retreated to your room, and he made a promise to himself to be more attentive, to keep an eye out for you.

That night, Max decided it was time to reach out to you. Hearing your quiet sobs and observing your timid behaviour had forced him to confront an uncomfortable truth: you weren’t the only one forced into this marriage. For you, it must be infinitely harder. He had his friends, his job, and the comfort of his own home. You had none of that.

The next morning, Max woke early, ordering food for the both of you before you could wake and make breakfast yourself. He wanted to catch you off guard and show a gesture of goodwill.

When you finally emerged from your room, the smell of freshly baked goods wafted through the apartment.

“Good morning. Max greeted, passing you as he carried plates to the dining table. “Come on, grab whatever you want, and let’s eat together.”

You paused, wide-eyed and uncertain, watching him retreat to the dining room. Your stomach growled loudly, betraying your hesitance. Without overthinking it, you reached for a croissant and followed him.

“Thank you.” You murmured, sitting across from him as you noticed the glass of orange juice already poured for you.

Max glanced up. “I’d like us to talk a little after breakfast.” He said, his tone calm.

You froze mid-bite, your stomach tightening as fear flickered across your face. “Talk?”

“Don’t worry.” He reassured, noting your reaction. “I just want to get to know you better.”

Relieved, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. But as you ate, your mind spun. What would he ask? You hadn’t spoken much about yourself to anyone before. The way you’d been raised didn’t leave much room for idle conversation or personal interests. You have been taught what to do for when you got married, but Max is unlike anything they’ve told you a husband will be like.

After finishing breakfast, the two of you moved to the living room. You sat stiffly, your back straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap. Max, sitting on the other end of the sofa, observed you with a faint smile.

“Relax.” He said lightly, leaning forward. “This isn’t an interrogation. I just thought we could set some boundaries or rules and figure out how to make this work for both of us.”

You nodded, unsure of what to expect. “Rules?” Rules you understood. You could follow rules.

“First.” Max began. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

You frowned slightly. “I like to cook.”

“That’s fine, then.” Max said quickly. “But it’s not something you have to do. Same with taking care of Jimmy and Sassy.”

Your frown deepened. “But then… what would I do?”

Max hesitated, realising how rigid your perspective was. “You can do whatever you want. What did you do before… you came here?”

“Well…” You paused, uncertain. “Dad had a schedule for me.”

“Schedule?” Max raised a brow. “Like, what kind of schedule?”

“I woke up at six, exercised for an hour, showered, then had classes until three. After lunch, I went to ballet for two hours, then a piano class for an hour and a half. Then I helped with dinner and went to bed.”

“Every day?” Max asked, his tone incredulous.

You nodded, smiling as though this was entirely normal. “The times changed sometimes, but… yes, since I was 12.”

“Fucking hell.” Max muttered, his jaw tightening. Memories of his own gruelling training sessions under his father’s watch flashed through his mind. The times he had to train for hours on end, walk home alone. But Max loved racing, he thrived in it. And unlike him, you didn’t seem to have any passion or choice in what you did.

Pushing his anger aside, Max decided to steer the conversation away from your father for now. “Why didn’t you buy more food while I was gone?”

“I don’t have a key.” You said simply, scratching nervously at your nail bed—a habit Max noticed for the first time.

“That’s on me.” He admitted. “I’ll get a key made for you.”

He paused, his gaze softening. “How much food do you usually eat?”

You shrugged, not giving it much thought. “Enough.”

“Are you full when you finish eating?”

Your voice was quiet. “Not always.”

Max’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening again. “Right. That’s it. I’m ordering more food.”

Despite your protests, Max ignored you, placing a large order with the determination to figure out what you liked. When the food arrived, you stared in disbelief at the sheer amount spread across the table.

“That’s too much.” You whispered, overwhelmed.

“Just eat,” Max said firmly.

At first, you hesitated, but the hunger gnawing at your stomach made you give in. Bite after bite, Max urged you to try different dishes. “This is amazing—taste it!” he’d insist, or “You’ll love this one.”

You tried to keep up, but the more you ate, the heavier the food sat in your stomach. Not eating a lot had shrunk your stomach, you get full fast, but it seemed like something Max is not accustomed to. When Max handed you another dessert to try, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Springing up, you rushed to the nearest bathroom and barely made it in time before throwing up.

Max was right behind you, holding your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You finally sat back, trembling and exhausted, you flushed the toilet and washed your face and mouth. He handed you a towel to wipe your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded weakly.

“Was the food bad?”

You shook your head. “Too full.”

Max stared at you, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you stop eating?”

“You told me to keep eating.” You said, looking at him through your lashes.

Max groaned, running a hand through his hair as the pieces fell into place. You asked him if you could go out the first day, you stayed in your room unless he asked you to come out or to make him food, you stop walking when he told you to, you’ve showed him your bags when he asked. You’ve been doing exactly what he’s been asking you to do without as much as a remark or hesitation. You haven’t left the house to get food because he didn’t tell you, you can leave. This is fucked. “You don’t need my permission to stop eating, or to do anything for that matter!”

“But my teacher said I should always ask you, I’m sorry that I sometimes do things without asking, but-“

“Stop.” His sharp tone made you fall silent immediately, he groans, he’s done it again. He sighed, softening his voice. “Rule number one: you don’t need to ask me for permission to live your life. You can do whatever you want. I’m your husband, not your… owner.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Max leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re free, Y/N. You’re not under your father’s control anymore. You can pursue whatever makes you happy, go wherever you want. You’re free.”

Your lips trembled slightly as his words sank in. “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Max said firmly, but his voice softened when he saw the fragile hope in your eyes. For a fleeting moment, it was as though a veil had been lifted. The small, hesitant smile on your face wasn’t much, but to him, it felt like a victory.

“I… I’ve never really thought about being free.” You admitted, your fingers twisting together in your lap. “There’s always been rules, schedules, expectations. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Max’s heart ached at your words. He had grown up under his father’s strict guidance, but at least he had racing—a dream to hold onto. But you? You hadn’t even been allowed the space to dream.

“Then start small,” Max said gently. “You don’t have to figure it all out today. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Your smile wavered as a question formed on your lips. “Why are you being so kind to me now?”

The question caught Max off guard, but he didn’t look away. “Because I’ve been an idiot.” he admitted. “I was so focused on how unfair this whole situation was for me that I didn’t stop to think about how much worse it must be for you. You’re here, in a place that’s completely unfamiliar, with someone you barely know.”

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as tears threatened to spill.

“And the more I think about it.” Max continued, his voice tinged with anger—not at you, but at the circumstances. “The more I realise how much you’ve been… controlled. By your father, by this arrangement. I can’t change the past, but I can make sure you don’t feel like that anymore. Not while you’re here with me.”

Your breath hitched, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by your reaction. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Max said softly. “Just… promise me you’ll try. Try to let yourself live a little, yeah?”

“I can try.” You whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression that you hadn’t seen before. “Good. That’s all I’m asking for.”

For the rest of the evening, Max stayed close but didn’t push you further. He handed you the remote to the television and suggested you pick something to watch while he cleaned up the kitchen. At first, you stared at the remote like it was a foreign object, unsure if you were really allowed to make the choice.

When Max returned, he saw you had settled on a light-hearted comedy, though you looked almost guilty about it. He sat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectful distance.

“Good choice.” He said, nodding at the screen. “I like this one.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah. It’s funny.” He glanced at you. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do. I just… I’m not used to picking.”

Max’s chest tightened. He didn’t know whether to feel anger at the people who had conditioned you this way or frustration at himself for not seeing it sooner.

“Well, from now on, you can pick whatever you like.” He said with a small shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

You nodded, a tiny but genuine smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

As the film played, Max stole a few glances at you. You didn’t laugh out loud at the jokes, but he could see the faintest quirk of your lips, the way your shoulders relaxed just slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

When the credits rolled, you turned to him, your expression a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “Thank you, Max. For… everything today.”

He waved it off, leaning back against the cushions. “Don’t mention it. This is just the start, yeah?”

You nodded again, the hope in your eyes a little brighter this time. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

The next day, you heard Max calling for Jimmy. His voice carried through the house with growing urgency. Curiosity tugged at you, so you stepped out of your room to see what was going on.

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Max asked as soon as he spotted you in the hallway.

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Strange, he never wanders off too far. Let’s check around the house.” Max suggested.

You nodded, and the two of you began searching every nook and cranny. As you walked past one of the guest rooms, you stopped and tugged at the handle of the door. It didn’t budge.

“I can’t open this door.” you called out to Max, who quickly came over.

He gave the handle a firm tug but had no more luck than you. “It’s locked from the inside.” He muttered, pressing his ear to the door. That’s when you both heard it—a muffled, distressed meow.

“I think Jimmy locked himself in.” You said, your voice tinged with concern. “What are we going to do?”

Max frowned, considering his options. “Let’s look it up on YouTube.” He said, pulling out his phone.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching a video tutorial on unlocking a door without a key. The longer the video played, the more your frown deepened.

“This looks complicated.” You said, glancing up at Max, who seemed equally dubious.

“Yeah, it does.” He admitted before disappearing down the hallway. Moments later, he returned—with a hammer.

“You’re going to break the door down?” You asked, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What other option do we have?” Max countered, already sizing up the door as though it were a rival on the track.

Before you could argue, he raised the hammer and brought it down with a loud bang. You flinched at the sound, your astonishment quickly turning to amusement. Holding Max’s phone in your hands, an idea struck you.

As Max continued to hack away at the door—his small hammer looking almost comically inadequate against the solid wood—you began recording. The absurdity of the scene combined with Max’s intense focus had you giggling quietly.

Max paused mid-swing, glancing over his shoulder when he heard your laughter. He smiled to himself. The sound was soft and delicate, like something fragile coming back to life. He decided then and there he wanted to hear it more often.

Finally, after several minutes of determined hammering, Max managed to break a hole large enough to reach through and unlock the door. As soon as the door creaked open, Jimmy bolted out of the room like his tail was on fire, his fur puffed up and his eyes wild with panic.

“That was… something.” Max said, running a hand through his hair as he headed to the kitchen. He set the hammer down on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a long sip.

You followed him into the kitchen, your focus still on the phone. The video you’d taken was playing, and a smile tugged at your lips as you watched Max’s determined hammer-wielding.

Max turned to you, noticing your amusement. “I want to give you, my number.” He said suddenly, his tone casual despite the faint flush creeping up his ears.

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking up from the phone.

“My number.” Max repeated, shifting slightly, the tips of his ears went red. “In case something happens, besides you’re married now. You should have each other’s numbers at least.”

“Oh.” You said, handing his phone back to him. “I don’t have a phone.”

Max froze, staring at you like you’d just announced you didn’t believe in electricity.

“You don’t have a phone?” He asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

You shook your head. “No. My dad said it was a waste of time and that it was better for me to focus on my training. He said it was for my protection… from guys online.” You shrugged, your tone casual as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Max set his water bottle down with a heavy thud, his jaw tightening. “I hate that man more every day.” He muttered under his breath.

You blinked at his reaction, confused by the intensity in his voice. “It’s not that big of a deal.” You said, brushing it off.

“It is.” Max said firmly. “You’re getting a phone tomorrow.”

You opened your mouth to protest but stopped yourself. The truth was, you’d always secretly wanted a phone. It had seemed like a symbol of freedom—something you never had. And now, Max was offering to get you one without you even asking.

“Okay.” You said softly, a small grin spreading across your face.

Max noticed and couldn’t help but smile in return. He picked up his water bottle and took another sip, his chest filling with quiet satisfaction.

Just then, Jimmy sauntered into the kitchen as if nothing had happened, his tail held high and his expression one of utter nonchalance.

“Look at that troublemaker.” Max said with a chuckle, watching as Jimmy headed straight for his water bowl. “Acting like he didn’t just give us a heart attack.”

You laughed again, and Max found himself smiling even wider. Yes, he decided. He would make sure you laughed more often—no matter what it took.

The next morning, you make breakfast for both you and Max. It’s a quiet meal, shared in comfortable silence, before you both retreat to your rooms to finish getting ready. Dressed in one of the shirts and jeans you bought, you hold your heels in your hands as you head to the door. Slipping them on, you wince slightly as the straps press against the tender skin at the back of your feet. Max steps out shortly after, and together you leave the penthouse.

The car ride is tranquil, with you staring out the window for a while before glancing around.

“I like this car.” You say softly, running your fingers over the leather seat. Max smiles, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. He’s driving the same Aston Martin today, saving the Valkyrie for another time. It gets him too much attention.

“Can you drive?” Max asks after a moment, glancing at you.

Your cheeks flush. “No.”

He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll have to change that.” There’s a note of determination in his voice. He’s a Formula 1 world champion; his wife will know how to drive. “You do want to learn, right?”

“Yes. Maybe not in a supercar, but yes.” You admit with a small smile. Another form of freedom you’d been denied. Another gift Max wanted to give you.

“We’ll start with a sedan.” He says, already planning out the details in his mind.

At the Apple Store, Max leads you inside, where you both gravitate toward a display of phones.

“What colour do you want?” He asks, standing close beside you. After a moment of contemplation, you tell him your favourite. Max nods, relaying the choice to a sales assistant, and adds a laptop, iPad, mouse, earbuds, earphones, and a phone case to the list.

“That’s too much.” You whisper, leaning toward him.

Max takes your hand gently, and you freeze, startled by the unexpected intimacy. His gaze is steady, his voice low so only you can hear. “It’s not too much. I want to give you everything you weren’t allowed to have.” His thumb brushes over your wedding ring, and his lips curve into a soft smile. “This is just the beginning.”

Reluctantly, you let him take the lead, wandering around the store as Max finalises the purchases. But after a while, your feet begin to ache, and you take a seat in one of the chairs near the display laptops. The relief is immediate, but you can feel the cut on your heel reopening.

From across the store, Max notices you frown as you touch your foot. His sharp eyes take in the subtle signs of discomfort, and when he sees you sigh, he excuses himself from the cashier. He walks over, carrying the bags, just as you look up and smile at him—a real smile, one that lights up your face.

It stops him in his tracks. For the first time, Max feels the warmth of your happiness directed at him, and he’s momentarily stunned. But as you stand, he notices the slight wince and follows your gaze. His eyes fall to your feet, he can’t see anything. He makes you walk in front of him and then he sees it, the backs of your feet are red and bleeding.

“Y/n.” He says his voice a mix of concern and frustration. You glance at him, confused, until you notice where he’s looking.

“Max.” you murmur softly, instinctively stepping to the side.

“Take them off.” He says through gritted teeth, crouching beside you.

Your cheeks burn as you look around the store, worried about the eyes on you both. “Max—”

“You’re in pain. Take them off.” He insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you hesitate, Max gently sets the bags down and reaches for your foot.

“Max!” You protest, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. He looks up at you, his eyes blazing with determination, and your resolve crumbles. Slowly, you step out of one heel, using his shoulder for balance, and then the other. The relief is instant.

Max clenches his jaw as he examines the heels. They look pristine on the outside, but the insides are stained with blood—both fresh and old. His chest tightens.

Standing, he towers over you, the anger in his eyes sharp enough to make you step back. “Do you even like wearing heels?” He asks, his voice tense. You shake your head, unsure how to answer.

“Not really.” You admit quietly.

“Damn it, y/n!” Max’s voice rises slightly, and you flinch, your heart was beating hard in your chest. He freezes, his frustration giving way to dread as he sees you retreat. You’re scared. Not of the world champion standing before you, but of what he represented—a shadow of your past. Gone the smile you had when you saw him, you’re frowning, trying to be in control of your feeling and reactions.

“Y/n—” You turn abruptly, walking away on bare feet, your steps hurried. “Wait!” Max calls after you, and you freeze in place. “Fuck.”

Max hates himself so much right now. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as he approaches you. He’s taken so many steps towards making you comfortable and here he’s undone most of them. Max leaves the bags and heels and walks up to you, he takes your hand in his and pulls you out of the store. He quickly finds a hidden spot way from praying eyes and ears. When he finally faces you, he sees the tears in your eyes and wobbling lips. “Shit, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Tears leave your eyes, and Max feels himself tearing up, he messed up, he messed up really bad.

“I didn’t mean to be angry at you, I’m sorry.” He says, his voice breaking. “I’m just angry about how you were treated, I want you to be happy, I want to make your life easier. I’m angry at how no one cared enough to stop it. But I rushed you, and that’s on me.” Max stops for a second, you’re not looking at him. “That’s a lot of I’s, I was selfish, I thought about how I wanted you to feel and now how you wanted to take things, I rushed you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I remind you of him.” His voice cracks.

A sob escapes your lips, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning into him. Max wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you as you cry. For the first time, you’re not crying alone, you weren’t hugging and comforting yourself. He doesn’t try to shush you or pull away. He just holds you.

Max may have caused you to cry, but he didn’t leave you to cry, he came after you and apologised. You know that as much as everything he’s doing is new to you, it’s also new to him. Every day you’re realising that you’re not normal, that what you went through isn’t normal.

“When you’re ready.” Max murmurs into your hair. “I’d like to know everything. Everything your dad did to you.” You shake your head, and though it pains him, Max doesn’t push. “When you’re ready.” he repeats.

You don’t know how long you stay there, shielded by his embrace, Max just holds you, hiding your face from the world, giving you the comfort you need. When you finally pull away, Max wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Let’s go home.” He says softly, crouching to untie his shoes and place them in front of you.

“Max, you don’t have to—” You begin your voice is ever soft, clearly you’re exhausted..

“Humour me.” He insists with a small smile. You nod, sliding your feet into the oversized shoes as Max ties the laces snugly.

At the car, you slip in and Max turns on the car before he jogs back to the store to grab the bags but returns empty-handed when it comes to your heels. He tosses them in a nearby bin, not wanting their memory to linger.

The drive back is quiet. Both of you are lost in thought, but the silence is no longer uncomfortable. It’s reflective.

The car ride back is heavy with unspoken thoughts. You’re lost in the moment you flinched and stepped away from Max. He hadn’t even raised his voice by much, his hands remained by his sides, yet you flinched. Scared.

You didn’t want to feel scared. You knew, deep down, that there was no reason to be scared. Max cares. He’s shown you more kindness and humility than anyone else in your life, even during the days when he ignored your existence.

For Max, the silence in the car speaks volumes. He’s seen his share of abuse—read about it, watched it unfold in the media—but now, sitting beside you, he’s realising the extent of your mistreatment. It wasn’t just mental or emotional. It was physical, too.

The quiet lingers as you both walk into the penthouse. Max turns to you, his expression soft.

“You can get changed, and we’ll set up your devices,” he says.

You nod and retreat to your room, shedding the thrift store clothes for your pyjamas. The soft fabric feels like a balm after the day’s events.

When you return to the living room, Max has unpacked everything from the bags. He looks up at you, his expression warm.

“I wanted you to open the boxes.” He says, his voice almost shy. He knows the joy of opening something new, especially something you’ve wanted for so long. He wonders if you’ve ever had that experience. Sitting beside him on the sofa, you tuck your legs under you. “Where do you want to start?”

“The phone?” You suggest.

Max grins, handing you the box. You unwrap it, excitement bubbling in your chest. He guides you through setting it up, letting you explore while he works on the laptop. He’s already created an email for you, logging into everything you might need.

His number is the only contact in your phone, and you ask him to transfer the video of him breaking the door. He obliges with a faint chuckle.

“Max?” You ask hesitantly, looking up from the screen.

He hums in response, glancing over.

“Is there an app for Formula 1?”

His brow arches. “Yes. Why?”

“So, I can know when you’re racing.” You admit shyly, holding out your phone. Max’s smile softens as he opens the App Store. “Now I can also look up anything I didn’t understand from watching last time.”

“You watched the race?” This is news to max; he had no idea you watched the last two races. It’s something you’ve done on his smart TV but didn’t want him to know at first thinking he’d be angry.

“I didn’t.” Max admits. “Did you enjoy it?”

Your smile grows, and it feels like the first time Max has seen you truly at ease. “It was fun. I didn’t understand everything, but you came first both times.”

The pride in your voice makes his chest swell. “Well, now you can text me if you don’t understand something. After the race, I’ll explain everything.”

As the day unfolds, you grow more comfortable beside him on the sofa. Max helps you connect everything to your phone, downloading apps like Netflix and upgrading his Spotify to a duo plan. At some point, he broaches another idea.

“Can I order you some shoes?”

You glance up from your phone, hesitant. “Just one or two.” You say.

Max nods with a smile, but later, as he sits with his laptop, he realises he has no idea where to start. He’s never shopped for women’s shoes before. After a moment, he glances at you.

“Do you mind if I invite some friends tomorrow?”

You blink, surprised. “It’s your house. You can do whatever you want.”

“And you live here too.” Max counters gently. He sends a quick text before adding. “Let’s watch a film.”

You pick a random movie, and as night falls, the weight of the day catches up with you. The popcorn bowl between you grow forgotten as your eyes drift shut. At one point your eyes snap shut and don’t open again your head eventually tilts to the side, landing on Max’s shoulder.

Startled, Max glances down. For a moment, he freezes, unsure what to do. Your soft breathing fans his neck. Max tried not to move much but get you in a comfortable position, you groaned when he moved and buried your face into his shoulder. Max’s arm was in the air, he didn’t know what to do. When you moved closer, he placed his arm around your shoulder. That settled you down and he relaxes.

By the time the credits roll, Max thought it’s best to get you to bed. Carefully, he moves, trying not to wake you. He slides from under you, laying you down on the sofa before scooping you into his arms.

In your room, Max pulls back the covers and places you on the bed, tucking you in as you mumble incoherently. Jimmy jumps up onto the bed, curling up beside you. Max lingers for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

For the first time, you look peaceful. Truly relaxed.           

Max opened the lamp by the bed, casting a soft glow in the room, Jimmy jumped on the bed and curled into himself to fall asleep. Max took you in, he’s never seen you so relaxed before, so at peace. He wonders if it’s the only time you truly relax. Instinctively he pushes a few strands form your face. You sigh. With a soft smile Max turns off the lamp and leaves your room.

That night, Sassy sleeps in his bed, as if the cats have decided to split their time between you both, keeping you company in their own way.

The next day, around noon, Max’s friends arrived. You weren’t sure what to expect, but stepping out of your room, you froze when you saw the familiar face of the Ferrari driver who had been racing against Max last week.

“Hi, I’m Charles.” He introduced himself warmly, leaning in for the traditional Monaco greeting. You exchanged a quick press of the cheeks before your gaze shifted to the woman standing beside him. She was stunning, elegant, and radiated a warmth that put you slightly at ease.

“I’m Alexandra, but you can call me Alex.” She said, extending her hand. You repeated the greeting and introduced yourself.

“I’m y/n.”

Both of them noticed the rings adorning your left hand but didn’t comment. You’d noticed that Max wasn’t wearing his, though you hadn’t commented on.

The four of you moved into the living room, and you instinctively sat beside Max. His presence anchored you, offering a sense of security in the unfamiliar social situation. For a while, the conversation flowed lightly until Max and Charles excused themselves, heading to the balcony. You hesitated, but Alex smiled, clearly sensing your nervousness.

 “How long have you been in Monaco?” She said kindly.

You thought for a moment. “About a month.”

“That’s still pretty new! I’m guessing you don’t have many friends here yet?”

You shook your head.

“Well…” Alex said with a mischievous grin, “I’ve been looking for a new shopping partner. Maybe you’d like to join me sometime?”

Your cheeks warmed. “I’m not very good at shopping.” You admitted, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve.

“That’s okay! We can figure it out together.” She reassured you before pulling out her phone. “Here, let me get your number.”

She tapped it into her contacts, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. Alex didn’t press you with questions about yourself, instead sharing light anecdotes about her life. At one point, she showed you a picture on her phone—a beautiful painting that immediately drew your attention.

“That’s gorgeous.” You said, leaning closer. “It looks so calm and peaceful.”

“It’s by Claude Monet, part of his Water Lilies series,” Alex explained, watching your expression soften. “Do you like art?”

You hesitated, a small smile forming. “I do. I always wanted to study it.”

Alex’s eyes lit up. “Really? I went to art school! I’d love to talk more about it with you.”

Excitedly, you leaned in as Alex recounted her studies and experiences. You felt a spark of joy in the conversation, a rare moment of connection that felt genuine. When Max and Charles returned, you and Alex were laughing at one of her stories.

“What’s so funny?” Charles asked, sitting beside Alex and kissing her cheek.

“Oh, I was just telling y/n about my old art professor.” Alex replied. She turned to Max, her smile widening. “Did you know she loves art?”

Max’s gaze shifted to you, his expression softening. “You do?”

You nodded shyly.

“She wanted to study it.” Alex added, and you saw the flicker of recognition in Max’s eyes as he took that in.

“Do you guys want to go out to eat?” Charles asked, your eyes snapped to Max’s you don’t have any shoes. But before you could panic, Alex chimed in.

“Why don’t we order in instead? It’s cozier that way.”

You shot her a grateful look, and she winked.

Lunch was lively, Charles regaling you all with stories from his and Max’s childhood. You found yourself laughing more than you had in years, and Max couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sound of your laughter, the way your face lit up—it was like watching a new side of you emerge, you leaned towards him when you laughed.

Charles isn’t stupid he knew Max cared for you, even if he didn’t know exactly what’s going on. He’s known Max since they were kids, there’s something between the two of you.

“You should come to a race sometime.” Alex said casually.

You glanced at Max, who raised an eyebrow as if to say it was entirely your decision.

“Maybe.” You said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “If you’ll be there.”

Alex clapped her hands in delight. “Of course, I will! It’ll be so much fun.”

After Charles and Alex left, you helped Max clean up, the two of you working quietly in sync.

“How was it?” He asked, his tone careful.

“They were nice,” you said with a soft smile. “I had fun.” Max relaxed slightly, but then your smile faltered. “I’ve never had friends who weren’t chosen by my dad.”

You didn’t elaborate, but the weight of your words hung in the air. Max didn’t press, giving you space to share only what you were ready to.

Once the kitchen was tidy, you leaned against the counter, watching Max move about. He glanced at you curiously.

“What?”

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

“For what?”

“For everything.” You said, your voice trembling slightly. “For telling Charles and Alex what I needed without saying anything personal.” You tell him and glance at the floor before you look up again, your eyes meeting his. “Thank you for being the kindest person I ever met.”

Max froze. “I wasn’t kind at first.” he murmured, guilt flickering in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Even then, you cared more than anyone else ever did.” Your voice broke. “I know you didn’t want this,  I know that my dad forced you into it. And you didn’t have to be nice to me, but I’ve been alone for so many years.” A tear slipped down your cheek. Max was in front of you in an instant, his hands gently cupping your face. He wiped the tear away, his eyes locked on yours. “My sister…” you whispered, Max frowns he had no idea you have a sister. “She turned eighteen and left. I was nine. She never called, never sent anything. And my mum died giving birth to me, and after that... it was just my dad.” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “No one ever asked what I wanted or cared if I was okay. As long as I did well in school, no one cared.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with an unspoken rage. But he buried it, focusing instead on you. Still holding your face, and your eyes not wavering away from each other, Max leans over and places his lips softly on your forehead.

“I promise you’ll never feel like that again.” He whispered against your skin. “I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You let out a shaky breath and leaned into his chest, letting him hold you. For the first time, you felt like you could let go of the weight you’d been carrying for so long.

When you finally pulled back, Max smiled softly, and you returned it, the moment settling between you like a quiet promise.

It was a quiet Sunday morning with no race this week. You and Max had just finished breakfast—something simple, part of the diet routine his trainer had him on. You were following his plan, eating smaller portions, and Max had noticed you snacking more these days, which made him happy. After everything that had happened, he wasn't pushing you to eat more than you wanted.

Max sat back with his tea, scrolling through his phone when it rang. The number was familiar—it was his mum.

Bold is Dutch

"Hey, Mum."

"Hey, honey, I just got off the phone with your dad." Sophie’s voice sounded tense, and Max tensed instinctively, already sensing where this conversation was going.

"Yeah?" Max asked, trying to sound casual.

"He told me something weird… he said… he said you got married." There was a long pause, and Sophie didn't give him time to run around it. "Max, is this true?"

Max cursed under his breath, closing his eyes. The silence dragged on.

"Look, Mum, it’s hard to explain." Max began, but Sophie wasn’t having it.

"Hard to explain? Max, did you get married? Yes, or no?" Her voice was sharp now, demanding an answer. Max rubbed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

"Yes." He admitted.

"And you didn’t think to tell us? Who did you even marry? What the hell have you gotten yourself into? Is she pregnant or something?" Sophie’s voice cracked with worry. Max could hear the disbelief in her words. His mother wasn’t the type to overreact, but this was too much.

"Mum, calm down." Max sat up straighter, his voice calming. "Look, Dad signed a contract years ago, and if it ever gets out, he could be sent to prison. The man who signed it made me marry his daughter to keep everything quiet."

"What the fuck is wrong with your father?" Sophie wasn’t expecting Max to have an answer to that. "You can’t get out of it?"

"No, I couldn’t." Max’s voice was steady but firm.

"Is she living with you?" Sophie asked, her worry turning into concern for Max’s well-being.

"Yes." Max's voice softened slightly.

"Mum, be careful. I don’t know her, but she could be the one who asked her dad to do this. You can never be too sure with people like that."

Max paused, a flicker of protectiveness for you rising in him. "Mum, she’s not like that."

There was silence on the other end of the line as Sophie processed his words. Max felt the weight of her judgment shift. He had to convince her of this, for you.

"She’s nice. Quiet. Really beautiful. And she’s nothing like her dad. If anything, I’m just happy she’s away from him."

Sophie was silent, the tension hanging thick. She wasn’t used to hearing her son speak so openly about someone like this. "

"You like her." She said, the words not quite a question but more of a realization.

Max let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "I do." And for the first time he’s said it out loud.

“I want to meet her.” Sophie said, her voice firm but not unkind. She’ll cast all judgment to the side until she met you.

“I’ll talk to her.” Max promised, knowing it was important for you to decide if and when you felt comfortable with meeting his family.

After the call ended, Max sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts before heading back to you.

“y/n.” Max called as he entered the room. You looked up from the iPad, where you’d been experimenting with ProCreate.

"In two weeks, it’s the Dutch Grand Prix. Do you want to come with me?"

You raised an eyebrow, a little hesitant. "Will Alex be there?"

Max smiled, the corner of his lips twitching.

"I don’t know, but my mum and sister will be, and my mum wants to meet you." You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit you’d picked up, and started scratching at your nail bed. "You don’t have to come if it’s too much."

"No, it’s okay… do they know?" You asked, hesitant but curious.

Max nodded. "Yeah. I don’t know about Victoria, but Mum wants to meet you first before anything." He gave a small, reassuring smile. “I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready."

You nodded slowly, but the nerves were already starting to bubble in your stomach, your mind started overthinking every possible scenario that could happen. "I don’t know… what if they don’t like me?"

Max’s voice softened, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Don’t do that." He said gently, cupping your face. "Don’t get lost in your thoughts."

You sighed, your shoulders sinking a little. "I just…"

"Show me what you’ve done." Max said, cutting through your train of thought. He gently nudged you aside and sat next to you on the couch.

You hesitated before showing him your drawing on the iPad. Max leaned in, studying the strokes and lines you’d created. He didn’t know much about art, but the smile on his face said everything. To him, it looked good.

He turned to you, eyes soft. "It’s great. You’re really talented."

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his compliment.

He’s been talking with Alex for help, he’s getting you a good starter kit, different mediums and everything until you find what you like. Max has another an empty bedroom, where his sim was supposed to go, before he sat it up in the living room, he can convert it to your studio. He was making sure you had everything you needed to thrive.

"Will you come to the next race with me?" Max asked softly. "Just so you can see everything before you meet my mum and sister. It’ll be nice to have you there."

You agreed to go with him to the next two weeks, first stop was Hungary and then it was the Netherlands.

Alex would be there as well, and that eased your nerves a little, knowing you’d have someone else you were comfortable with.

Max also made sure you had some new clothes, a few more pairs of shoes—something that made him happy. You’d ordered them online, and he was genuinely excited to see you enjoy these little things.

While packing, Max’s eyes fell on the wedding band he’d taken off and placed on his bedside table. It had been there ever since, untouched. Without thinking much about it, he slipped it into his luggage.

The atmosphere of the paddock was nothing like you’d expected—it was electric, buzzing with activity. Alex made sure to meet up with you once the drivers had to go in for media duties. She showed you around, introducing you to the other WAGs, who were all genuine and easy to talk to.

Lilly showed you TikTok, and you downloaded the app instantly, amused by how much you were missing out. The girls didn’t pry into your relationship with Max. They accepted you for who you were—just a friend of Max, now Alex’s as well.

The weekend was enjoyable, thanks to them. You watched the race from the Red Bull garage, chatting with Max between sessions. Some photos were snapped, but no one really knew who you were. Your anonymity remained intact, despite the rumours circulating about you and Max.

Max kept an eye on the gossip online. He didn’t care about the usual scrutiny, but his family was off-limits. No one had asked for his life to be under a microscope. And now, you were part of his family. You shared his name.

That thought made something in Max shift. He felt a deep sense of possessiveness, pride even, that you had his last name. The primal part of him loved that you were his, and that realization struck him late that night. He wasn’t just liking you anymore—he was falling for you. Fast.

But Max wasn’t used to slow. He liked things fast, hard, and with determination. He knew what he wanted, and now that he had you, he would do whatever it took to keep you.

Usually, Max flies with his friends from race to race on his private jet, but since he’s bringing you this time, it’s just the two of you.

“How was the race weekend?” Max asked, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It was a lot.” You admitted, and his heart sank a little. He wanted you to enjoy it and wondered if he should’ve asked if you wanted to go in the first place. “But I enjoyed it. It was different from seeing it on TV. Also, the girls were all very nice. I’ve never been to something like this before. I wanted to see you win, though.”

“Maybe next time.” Max chuckled softly before adding, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

You and Max arrived in the Netherlands on Monday. The first two days, you’ll stay at his mum’s house, and then he’ll move to a hotel closer to the track. Your nail beds were raw from all the scratching you were doing, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

In the car, Max took your hand in his, gently running his fingers over the red and irritated areas. You glanced at him, expecting a question or a comment, but he remained focused on your hand, his touch warm and soothing. Your heart raced, a blush creeping up your cheeks as his attention left you feeling giddy. No guy had ever held your hand before.

Your mind wandered. Every small thing Max did made you question whether it was all platonic or if he had feelings for you. You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him. Every time he was near, your heart skipped a beat, and you felt weightless.

When you arrived at his mum’s house, his mum and sister were already at the door, waiting. As you both walked up, pulling your luggage behind you, Max greeted Sophie with a warm hug. Victoria waited her turn before stepping in for her own hug.

After they let Max go, Sophie turned to you with a kind smile. “Hi, I’m Sophie,” she said.

You smiled timidly and offered your hand. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

She shook your hand warmly before Victoria followed suit.

“Let’s go inside,” Sophie said, leading the way.

Max lingered for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as if silently asking if you were okay. You gave him a small smile, and the two of you followed them inside.

Once inside, you placed your bags next to Max’s and joined them in the living room. Max gestured for you to sit next to him on the couch, while Sophie and Victoria settled across from you. It felt like an interview, the kind where every word mattered.

Sophie broke the silence first. “Tell us a little about yourself, y/n. Max hasn’t said much.”

Your fingers unconsciously returned to scratching. “I-uh, what do you want to know?”

Sophie gave you a reassuring smile. “Where did you grow up?”

“Oh, we moved a lot. I was last in Switzerland, but before that, we lived in the UK, Spain, and Germany for a while.”

“It must’ve been hard moving countries and losing your friends.” Victoria said sympathetically.

You shrugged. “It’s alright. I learnt many languages.” You dismiss their concerns, you’ve never had much of friends in the first place, so moving wasn’t hard on you in that aspect.

“Oh? How many do you know?” Sophie asked, intrigued.

“German, Spanish, French, a bit of Italian, and some Dutch.”

“You know Dutch?” Max asked, clearly surprised.

You smiled genuinely for the first time since sitting down. “Yeah, not fluently, but enough. It’s a little similar to German and French.”

“That’s impressive.” Sophie said.

“Thank you.” You replied, brushing off the compliment.

“Did you watch Formula 1 before meeting Max?” Sophie asked.

“No. I had no idea about it until… Max.” You hesitated, unsure how much to share.

“What are your socials? I want to follow you.” Victoria said, pulling out her phone.

“I don’t have any.” Your fingers returned to scratching. They both looked at Max, who nodded in confirmation. You added quietly. “Didn’t have a phone until Max got me one.”

“Really?” Victoria’s shock was evident.

“Your mother was okay with this?” Sophie asked, her voice softer now. She would never leave her daughter without a phone in case something happened to her, and she needed help. Even if just an old phone or limit access to internet, but not having a phone is bazaar. Your nail digs into your skin.

Max glanced at you, his concern growing as he noticed your nails digging into your skin. Without a word, he took your hand in his again.

“I think maybe we should rest first.” Max says wanting to get you out of this situation.

“It’s alright.” You squeeze his hand, Max is closer to you now, your hand in his on his thigh. You give him the smallest of smiles, before turning to his family. “My mum died giving birth to me.”

“And your siblings?” Sophie asked hesitantly.

“Ran away when she turned 18.” You said matter-of-factly. “I know you’re just looking out for Max, but I would never hurt him. I only want the best for him.”

Sophie softened. “Thank you.” She said with a small smile.

Later that night, you were in one of the spare rooms, dressed in your pyjamas, staring out of the window when Max knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You called.

Max stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.” You replied simply.

“They weren’t too much, were they?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No, they love you.”

“They do.” Max paused, guilt creeping in. Even with his rough childhood, he’d had his mum and sister. You’d had no one.

“Don’t do that,” you said, raising a hand to smooth the furrow between his brows.

“Do what?” He took your hand from his face into his. He studies your hand, making sure there’s no more cuts on them.

“Feel guilty. Hate that you had a better life than me.” You said softly. “We’ve both had rough childhoods, but we’re here now.”

“We’re here now.” Max repeated, his voice heavy with emotion. For a moment, silence filled the room until you broke it.

“You know I’ve suffered all types of abuse from my dad.” Max’s grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenching. “When I wouldn’t do what he wanted or got less than perfect on tests, he’d pull me by my hair. He loved seeing me stumble, dragging me around like I was nothing. Sometimes he hit me, but never hard enough to leave permanent marks. When my sister escaped, he made sure I couldn’t. He couldn’t break her, so he broke me.”

“He didn’t break you.” Max said firmly. You looked at him, your eyes hollow. “He didn’t. You’re here. You’re strong. You’re not following his rules anymore. You have a phone, you wear what you want, and you’re living your life. If he broke you, you wouldn’t have any of that.”

“All of that is because of you.” You countered. “You made me do all that.”

“No, you let me help you, you let me do all those things for you.” Max wanted you to understand how strong you are, how brave you are. “Someone else would’ve still ben in that shell, they’d still be afraid. Are you scared?”

“Not when I’m with you.” You admitted.

“And I’m not going anywhere.” Max whispers and you lean over and hug him. Something that you have come to love. You may have not experienced a lot of hugs in your life, but Max’s hugs are your favourite. There can never be a hug like his, a hug that makes you warm, feel protected, safe a hug that feels like home. Max waits until you pull away, his fingertips come up to your face and push the stray hairs out of your face. Your eyes locked in an intense gaze. After what feels like forever Max lets out a breath, he leans over and presses his lips to your forehead, before he bids you good night.

That night you dream of him; you dream of what it would be like being in a real relationship with Max. And you wake up wishing it was the truth; you wake up wishing that you were really with him.

Max wanted nothing but to find your dad and beat him up, who treats their daughters like this. How can he be human? He should be locked up. It took everything in him not to track him down, when you told him, and just end him. Just so he wouldn’t breathe the same air you breath, so he wouldn’t walk the same earth you’re walking. Max had to remind himself that you’re with him now, that your father won’t get to you. He gave you to Max and now you belong to him. And so, he planned.

The next few days felt surreal, almost as if you had stepped into a different life. Whether at her home or in the paddock, you spent most of your time with Sophie and Victoria, getting to know them in a more natural way. Victoria introduced you to her children and her partner, who seemed to warm up to you quickly. Their acceptance gave you a quiet sense of relief—you were finally starting to feel like part of something good.

On Media Day, you managed to catch up with Alex and the girls, who urged you to sign up for Instagram, even if you didn’t plan on posting anything. Their light-hearted teasing helped you relax, even if you weren’t ready to make that leap just yet.

Every night, Max ensured that you all ate together as a family. He was quietly thrilled by how easily you fit in, your laughter blending seamlessly with theirs. To him, it was a sign of hope, something he hadn’t realised he was holding on to so tightly.

But you were completely oblivious to the plan Max had set in motion after your heart-to-heart. Behind the scenes, he was orchestrating an end to your father’s influence. He wanted it done discreetly, leaving no room for you to suspect or feel burdened by it.

The energy in the paddock was electric as Quali Day unfolded, Max securing pole position in a thrilling comeback. You had been watching from the garage with Sophie, who nudged you playfully when you cheered so loudly it drew stares.

“You look happier than he does!” Sophie teased, a warm smile on her face.

“Well, he earned it!” You replied, grinning.

Sophie took your hand, leading you to where Max would be arriving. The timing was perfect—he walked in just as you reached the area.

“Max!” You called, your excitement spilling over as you ran up to him. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him. It wasn’t like the casual hugs you had gotten used to giving—it was unreserved, spontaneous. For a moment, Max froze in surprise, but then his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

“Congratulations.” You murmured against him, your voice warm with pride.

“It’s not a win yet.” Max replied, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your hair.

“You were still amazing.” You insisted, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I was starting to think I brought you bad luck.”

“You can never bring me bad luck.” He whispered, his tone serious. His arms around you a beat after you let go as his team called for him. “I have to go, but I’ll see you after.”

“Okay.” You whispered, stepping back reluctantly.

Sophie smiled knowingly, taking your hand as the two of you headed back to the garage. Neither of you realised that your tender moment had been caught on a live video, now circulating online. But none of you saw it that day, so busy with your lives to log online.

Max’s teams saw the video, they had previously asked Max about your relation to him, but he politely said it’s none of their business. Wanting the reigning world champion to focus on the win, they didn’t tell him about the video.

Max clinched victory in a hard-fought race, and the celebrations were wild. You stood with Sophie and Victoria in Parc Ferme. Max held your hand for a brief moment. He hasn’t talked to you yet about the media and how to deal with them, so he’d like to keep it all as private as he could. But he also wanted you to know how he apricated your presence.

The team went hard in celebrating, there was the photo taking after the media duties, champaign splashing, cheering and jumping around. You watched it all from the side with Sophie. The woman was starting to have a soft spot for you, the more time she spent with you. You left with the women to change at the hotel, for a dinner with the family, apparently even Jos was coming. You had all changed and went to the restaurant at the hotel, and Max joined you all soon after. His mum and sister purposely left the seat next to you empty, Max likes sitting next to you something that they’ve noticed.

As you scanned the menu, Max leaned closer, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair.

“Do you know what you’ll order?” He asked.

“I’m torn between these two.” You replied, pointing at the options. Max leaned in further to look; his face so close that you caught a whiff of his cologne.

“We’ll get both and share.” He decided.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded firmly, his easy confidence making you smile.

Across the table, Victoria nudged Sophie, tilting her head toward the two of you. “Look at them.” She whispered. Sophie smiled back, clearly entertained by the unspoken affection radiating between you and Max.

Sharing the food was a good option, you liked both dishes, Max ate more than you did which is expected. Before you get dessert, you excused yourself to the bathroom after the main course, you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

The moment you rounded the corner, a hand grabbed your arm roughly. Before you could react, another hand twisted into your hair, yanking you back with enough force to make you stumble and you instantly knew who it was. A squeak left your mouth as you were dragged.

“I think you and y/n should date.” Sophie said to her son, the moment you were out of earshot.

“What? We’re married.”

“Yes, but not of your choice.” She says. “You both like each other, already married, why not try to date and see where it takes you, it’s backwards but why not?”

“I don’t know if she likes me.” Max said, feeling insecure all of the sudden.

“Believe me she likes you.” Victoria says and stands up. “I need the bathroom too.”

Leaving her mum and brother to talk, she sped walked to the bathroom, regretting the last glass of wine she drank. Victoria hears a squeak; she turns and just catches a glimpse of you being pulled away. Her eyes go wide, and she rushes back to the restaurant.

“Fucking bitch, shut up!” Your father spat, his voice venomous. Panic flooded you as he dragged you toward the emergency stairwell. Jos was already there, hovering uneasily but saying nothing.

Your back hit the cold concrete wall, and the impact knocked the wind out of you. Tears blurred your vision as your father loomed over you, his face twisted with rage.

“What did I tell you before you left?” He hissed. “I said to play dumb and keep your mouth shut! So, what the hell did you say to that asshole?”

“I—I, I don’t k-know.” You stutter vision blurry.

“The fuck you don’t! What did you say that made him talk to the investors, they’re all pulling out!” He’s screaming now, you flinch wishing the wall to just swallow you. you thought you’d be stronger the next time you see your dad, but here you are a whimpering mess. “Talk! What did you say?”

“I—I don’t know!” You cry, your voice trembling.

“Bullshit!” he roared, his hand striking your cheek with enough force to snap your head to the side. You whimpered, your legs buckling beneath you. The wall behind you the only reason you didn’t fall.

But before he could strike again, the door burst open. Max charged in like a storm, tackling your father to the ground with a roar of fury.

“Oh my god.” You hear Sophie gasp and rushes to your side, she pulls you from the stairwell.

“You fucking asshole!” Max shouted, landing punch after punch. “Who the hell hits women? I told you to stay away from her!”

Jos sees the rage Max is in and jumps into action, fearing his son will be locked up, he tries to pull Max of your father. Jos is far from being in his prime and Max isn’t young anymore. Max glares at his father.

“Max, stop!” Jos finally intervened, trying to pull his son off. But Max shoved him away, his anger boiling over.

“Piss off, this is your fault! You brought him here!” Max spat at his father; his voice thick with betrayal. He allowed him to come close to you, saw him hit you and did nothing.

Meanwhile, Sophie had her arms wrapping protectively around you. Victoria rushed to get security, her heels clicking frantically against the tiled floor.

You hear the shouting from outside, even through your pain you want to go to Max. You try to get back inside, but Sophie stops you.

“Wait, Victoria is getting security.”

“But Max-“

“Will be fine, he wouldn’t want you in there.” Just as she says that she sees the security running in your direction she points to the door, and they rush in. There’s more shouting and screaming from inside.

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” Victoria asks stopping in front of you. Tears haven’t stop, your scalp was hurting, and your cheek was pulsing. It’ll bruise, leaving a mark. “That’s a stupid question.”

“What are you doing? He started it!” You hear your dad scream, the door opens, and he’s pulled outside, his vision falls on you. “I was just talking with my daughter, and he butts in.”

“That’s my wife! And you laid hands on her.” Max says coming out of the door and takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his mum and sister. “You should call the police.”

The security nods and they take your dad away, as one of them call for the police. Jos walks out last, and the glares turn to him.

“I don’t care anymore, I’m getting him to jail, he can do whatever he wants.” Max tells his dad, Jos looks defeated, with what happened your dad will go to the media. There’s no fighting this, Max may have gotten married but, in the end, he’ll still be exposed.

Max then turns to you, he takes you in, your hair is a mess your mascara was running, and tears haven’t stopped leaving your eyes. Also, your cheek is red and buffy. It takes a lot for Max not to run after your dad and beat him some more.

“Schatje,” Max says softly, stepping closer until there’s almost no space between you. His hand cups your uninjured cheek, tilting your face so he can examine it. There’s pain in his eyes as he studies you. “I should’ve hit him more.”

You whimper, more tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Not now, Max.” Sophie reprimands gently.

“Sorry.” He mutters, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His focus shifts entirely to you. “I’m sorry, y/n. You’re okay. You’re safe now. I promise this is the end of it.” His voice is low but filled with conviction. “I’ll make sure he never comes near you again. This was a mistake, a blip. As long as I’m alive, no one will lay a hand on you again. Do you hear me? No one. I swear it.”

For the first time, you believe those words with your whole heart. Max would do anything to protect you. Overcome with emotion, you throw your arms around him, seeking comfort in his presence despite the pain it causes.

“Max, I... I—” The words stick in your throat as your sobs overtake you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Max soothes, his voice a calming balm. His arms tighten around you, and his hand strokes your back gently.

When Max glances up, his eyes meet Sophie’s. The pain in his expression makes her heart ache. Any doubts she had are gone. Sophie makes a silent promise to herself: she will make sure you feel the love your family never gave you.

“Max, the hotel staff said we can wait for the police in your room.” Victoria interjects softly, breaking the moment.

Max nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to you. Gently, he pulls away enough to see your face.

“Come on, schatje. We’ll have more privacy in my room.” His voice is almost a whisper. You nod, letting go of him and letting him guide you. His arm wraps protectively around your shoulders, holding you close to his side. Sophie and Victoria lead the way.

The elevator ride is silent, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Even once you’re in the room, no one speaks. You sit on the sofa, still wrapped in Max’s embrace. Sophie hands you a water bottle, and you whisper a soft thank you.

The knock on the door is almost startling. Victoria opens it to reveal two police officers. They introduce themselves as they step inside, taking seats across from you and Max. One officer pulls out a notepad, ready to begin.

“The hotel staff are providing us with the CCTV footage.” The kinder-looking officer says. “But we need your statement to build the case. Can you start by telling us what happened, Miss Wilkins?”

“It’s Verstappen,” Max corrects firmly. The officer looks momentarily confused. “We’re married. It’s Y/N Verstappen.”

The officers exchange a quick glance before the kinder one nods. “Mrs. Verstappen, can you tell us what happened?”

The words make your heart flutter momentarily, but the weight of the situation quickly crushes any joy. Taking a shaky breath, you grip Max’s hand tightly as he laces his fingers with yours, grounding you.

“I was on my way to the bathroom when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Before I could react, a hand was in my hair. I knew it was my dad.” You explain, your voice trembling. You pause to wipe at your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “He dragged me into the stairwell. He kept asking me about something Max did... something about investors.”

You glance at Max, confusion in your eyes. Max’s jaw tightens as guilt flashes across his face. He now understands why your father attacked you—it’s his fault.

“When I told him I didn’t know, he hit me.” You continue, your voice cracking. “He was about to do it again when Max arrived and stopped him.”

The officer nods, his expression sympathetic. “Has this happened before? The abuse?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “Since I was young.”

The pity in their eyes makes your stomach turn.

“When was the last time, before today?” The second officer asks.

You don’t need to think about it. The memory is vivid.

“A week or so after we got married.” You say.

You went and opened the door, taking a step back when you saw who it was. Your heart dropped.

“Well, look who it is? The new bride. Come give a hug to your father.” Your dad opened his arms for a hug, Jos was standing behind him. Awkwardly. This feels like an ambush. You felt so naïve thinking that you wouldn’t have to deal with your father anymore. That you’re free from him. Your father hated that you didn’t instantly follow his rules, so he took a step closer. You then moved closer as well and opened your arms for a hug, he pulled you closer roughly, on hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the roots, the other on your arm. It would leave a bruise if he held you slightly harder. You held in the whimper that threatened to escape. “Why did it take so long for you to open the door?” He didn’t wait or expect an answer. “Just because you’re married, doesn’t mean you can forget what I taught you.” Moving your head back, you instinctively held into his arm for balance. “And what are you wearing? Hmm? I thought I sent you clothes. I’ve spent so much to make you the perfect wife, and this is how you are.”

"Did someone come?" Max called out from the living room, removing his headset. You shrank back, taking a few steps away from your father. Max rounded the corner, his sharp eyes darting between your pale face and the men at the door. “What are you two doing here?”

“What?” Max’s voice is laced with disbelief. You glance at him, biting your bottom lip.

“He didn’t hit me.” You clarify. “He just pulled my hair.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Max whispers, running a hand down his face in frustration. “You should’ve told me.”

“You stopped him. You told him not to speak to me again.” You say softly, placing your hand on his thigh in an attempt to comfort him. Max looks down at your hand, his heart breaking further. Here you are, bruised and hurting, yet still trying to console him.

“Did Jos witness everything?” The officer asks, pulling your attention back.

“Yes. Today and last time.” You reply. Max’s anger bubbles to the surface.

“We want restraining orders against both of them. And we’ll sue.” His voice is sharp, final.

The officer nods. “That’s the next step. With the footage, this will be a straightforward case.”

“Okay, just a step by step, but with the cameras here, it will be an easy case.” The officer said looking grim. “Mr. Verstappen you attacked Mr. Wilkins, right?”

“Yes, he was hitting my wife.” Max admitted not fearing anything that could come his way.

“It was self-defence.” Sophie added, the officers spared her a glance.

The officers continue asking questions and taking statements from Sophie and Victoria before leaving. Once they’re gone, Sophie and Victoria ensure you have everything you need before saying their goodbyes, leaving you and Max alone.

The silence feels heavy again. Max moves quickly, grabbing the ice bucket that had been delivered earlier. He wraps some ice in a towel and approaches you with careful intent.

“Let me do it.” You say softly, reaching for the towel, but Max doesn’t let go. His frown deepens as he presses the cold compress gently to your cheek, his gaze focused solely on the bruised skin. He still won’t meet your eyes. “Max.” You call his name quietly, but he doesn’t look up. You try again. “Max, please.” Finally, his eyes flicker to yours, and what you see in them breaks your heart. Pain. Guilt. Anguish. “What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice trembling slightly.

“How can you ask me that?” He says, his voice cracking. “Your dad has hurt you twice since we got married, and I didn’t even know. I failed to protect you. Both times. And today... today was my fault. I tried to punish him for what he did to you, but all I did was give him a reason to come after you again. I wasn’t there for you before we got married, and I couldn’t protect you now. I—” His voice falters, and you see tears welling in his eyes. Max is strong, he doesn’t care about a lot of things to cry, but you? He cares about you, knowing and seeing what happened to you is tearing him apart.

“Max.” You say, your hand moving to cover his where it rests on your cheek. You sit up straighter, shifting until you’re kneeling on the sofa to face him. Your hands cup his face, forcing him to look at you.

“I’d still be with him—or worse—if it weren’t for you. You saved me, Max. I’d go through it all again if it meant I’d end up here, with you.”

Your words are soft but resolute. You brush away a stray tear that escapes down his cheek, and Max leans into your touch, his eyes searching yours.

“I love you.” You whisper, the words slipping out effortlessly. They feel right. True.

There it was as simple as that; the words just left you easily and smoothly.

Max freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He pulls back slightly, and your hands fall away from his face. The smile you wore drops, replaced by panic as your mind races. Did you misread everything? Was Max only being kind because he felt obligated?

“I—uh—I’m sorry if I overstepped.” You stammer, standing abruptly. Your nails dig into your palms as you try to steady your breathing. “This isn’t what you wanted. It’s not what you chose. Of course, you don’t feel the same. I’m sorry—”

“Wait.” Max grabs your hand before you can reach the door, turning you to face him again. His hands rest firmly on your shoulders, grounding you. “Just... wait.” You stop, your heart hammering in your chest. His touch is gentle as he cups your jaw, his thumbs brushing your skin. “I wasn’t expecting it.” He admits softly. “I was surprised, confused, afraid... I still am. I don’t want you to think you love me just because I got you away from your dad. I don’t want that to cloud your feelings. If you love me, I need it to be for me. For who I am.”

His words make your chest ache, but then his next words make your heart soar.

“Because I love you.” He says. “So much.”

Tears well in your eyes again as your voice trembles. “You do?”

Max nods, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I’ve thought about this a lot. About us. About how I never wanted this marriage to be just an arrangement. I love you, Y/N.”

You let out a teary laugh, and Max’s lips curve into a smile at the sound.

“I love you for you.” you assure him. “I promise. This may not have been what we planned, but I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I have you.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, and then his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft and tender, a promise in itself. You kiss him back, savouring the moment. When you finally pull away, you rest your head against his shoulder, letting out a long sigh.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask quietly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course.” His answer comes without hesitation.

Max gives you one of his shirts, and you retreat to the bathroom to change. When you return, he’s gone, but moments later, he reappears, holding your makeup remover from your room next door. His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you standing by the bed, wearing his shirt.

You’re too exhausted to notice the way his breath hitches, the way he has to look away for a moment to compose himself.

That night, you both fall asleep quickly. Max spoons you from behind, mindful of your injuries, his presence a shield against the nightmares that might come. In his arms, you feel safe, loved.

When Max wakes before you the next morning, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed. The warmth of his arms around you fades as he quietly gets out of bed, careful not to disturb you. He pauses at the edge of the mattress, his gaze lingering on your peaceful face. The bruise on your cheek looks slightly less angry now, but it’s still a stark reminder of everything you endured. Max clenches his fists as guilt and anger surge again, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. You need him to be strong, not consumed by his own emotions.

Max dresses quickly and heads into the small living area of the hotel suite, pulling out his phone. The police had assured him they’d be in touch for follow-ups, but Max wasn’t going to wait passively. He searches for a lawyer, determined to take swift action. Restraining orders would be just the start.

By the time he finishes his call, Sophie is knocking softly at the door. He lets her in, and she immediately places a comforting hand on his arm.

“How’s she doing?” Sophie asks, her voice gentle.

“She’s sleeping,” Max replies, his tone heavy. “I just... I don’t know what else I could’ve done to stop this.”

Sophie shakes her head. “Max, none of this is your fault. You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever has. She knows that. She feels it.”

Max nods but doesn’t respond. His mother’s words offer little solace when he feels like he’s failed you in so many ways. Sophie doesn’t push him further, sensing his need for space, and instead busies herself in the kitchenette, preparing tea for when you wake up.

You stir a little later, the ache in your body making it hard to move. But the warmth lingering on your skin from Max’s embrace makes you smile faintly, even through the pain. Slowly, you sit up. The events of the previous day flood back, and a lump forms in your throat.

Pulling on the robe draped over a nearby chair, you shuffle into the living area, rubbing your eyes. Max is pacing near the window, phone in hand, while Sophie sits at the small dining table, sipping tea. When she sees you, she smiles softly and stands.

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” She asks, her concern evident.

“I’m okay.” You reply quietly, though the rasp in your voice betrays your exhaustion. Sophie doesn’t miss it and quickly ushers you to the table.

“Sit. I made tea. It’ll help.” She places a cup in front of you before brushing her hand gently over your hair. “Max will be here in a minute.”

Max, who has noticed you now, ends his call abruptly and strides over. His eyes scan your face, and though he tries to hide it, you catch the flicker of pain in his expression.

“You should’ve stayed in bed.” He says, his tone soft but firm.

“I’ve rested enough.” you reply, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, Max.”

He kneels beside you, his hand covering yours on the table. “You don’t have to be fine; you know. Not yet.”

His words sink in, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I know.” you whisper. “But I can’t let him take everything from me.”

Max nods, understanding. “We’re going to make sure he doesn’t. The lawyer is already working on the restraining order. I’ve also asked them to look into filing charges. I’m not letting this go by easily.”

The fire in his voice sends a wave of comfort through you. He wasn’t just saying these things for your sake. He meant every word.

Sophie steps back, giving the two of you space, and Max pulls his chair closer to yours.

“Today.” He says gently, “We’re going to take it one step at a time. First, we’ll see what the police need. Then, we’ll figure out what’s next. And after that... we’ll go home. Together.”

The word home makes your chest tighten. For so long, that word had no meaning. But now, with Max, it feels like you’re finally finding what it truly means.

Later in the day, after a follow-up with the police and some much-needed rest, you and Max prepare to leave the hotel.

Max’s phone buzzing insistently had been a constant backdrop for the past half-hour, and finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Max, just answer your phone.” You said, pressing an ice pack to your cheek and watching him pace. “It keeps ringing.”

With a sigh, Max glanced at the screen before reluctantly accepting the call.

“Hello?... Yes… what? How did they know?... No, just the police officers and—” He paused, his expression darkening as he ran a hand through his hair. “No, I think I said it in the hallway as well… fuck… okay, yeah… no… I said no, and I mean it. It’s no one’s business… No, because nothing in my contract says I have to… Mate, look, it happened. I’m not happy about it, but it happened. End of story… I’m going back to Monaco.”

He hung up, exhaling sharply as he tossed his phone onto the table. His jaw was tight, and it was clear the conversation had rattled him.

“What was that about?” You asked, wincing as you spoke. Your cheek throbbed, and smiling was definitely off the table until the swelling subsided.

Max hesitated, glancing at you before answering. “Someone from the hotel leaked that we’re married.”

Your eyes widened, and you turned toward the mirror to check your face again, trying to process his words. “What? How—how did they even know?”

“Don’t worry.” Max reassured you quickly, stepping closer. “We don’t have to say anything. I’ve always kept my private life private, and the police won’t release any details.”

“What about the officiant?” you asked, suddenly worried about the people who had been involved in your ceremony.

“If he says anything, he can kiss his license goodbye,” Max replied firmly. “And if your father tries to use this, his reputation—what’s left of it—will be done.”

You nodded, feeling a bit reassured by Max’s determination. But he wasn’t finished.

“Now, I need you to listen to me and think carefully before you decide.” His tone was serious, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “There are two options: One, we can go out and face the crowd together. Or two, I can go out first, and you can follow later when things calm down.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of stepping out there alone. “Do they have my face?”

Max’s silence was answer enough. Your heart sank, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t want to be on my own.”

Max’s shoulders relaxed, and he stepped closer to you.

“Alright, we’ll leave together,” he said gently, taking your hands in his. “But you need to know they’ll be taking pictures of you now. A lot. Once this is public, there’s no going back.”

You swallowed hard but nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t have social media anyway.”

Max’s lips twitched into a small smile. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, careful not to hurt your swollen cheek.

Sophie insists on staying until the very last moment, ensuring you have everything you need before saying goodbye. Her hug is warm and lingering, and she whispers in your ear, “You’re part of this family now. Don’t ever forget that.”

Victoria joins in with her own hug, giving Max a teasing look. “Take care of her, Max. You’re not off the hook just because she married you.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles. “I know, I know.”

Max checked out of the hotel while you stood close to him, your fingers brushing against his arm for comfort, taking his left hand, you felt the smooth texture, looking down you see his wedding ring. Max smiles and presses your sunglasses up your nose. A Red Bull cap sat snugly on your head, and sunglasses shielded your swollen eyes. Even before stepping outside, the roar of the crowd was deafening, fans chanting and calling Max’s name.

“Stay close to me.” Max murmured, his arm slipping protectively around your shoulders.

The moment the doors opened, the world exploded with flashing cameras and shouting voices. Your head dipped instinctively; the weight of the crowd’s energy overwhelming. Max’s arm tightened around you as the bodyguards formed a path to the car, their presence the only barrier between you and the chaos.

The path was narrow, people pressing in on all sides, and you felt your heart race as the space seemed to close in. Flashes of light blinded you even through your sunglasses, and questions were hurled at Max, some directed at you. But he didn’t stop. His focus was solely on getting you to the car.

At last, you reached the vehicle, and a breath of relief escaped you as you slid into the seat. Max lingered outside for a moment, signing a few autographs for fans before quickly ducking into the car beside you.

His face was drawn, his usual calm replaced by a tension you rarely saw in him. You placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently.

“That was something.” You said, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Tell me about it.” Max muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He glanced at you when he felt your touch and gave you a small, weary smile. Lifting your hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it before threading his fingers through yours.

The car hummed quietly as it carried you both toward the airport, leaving the chaos of the crowd behind. Max’s hand remained in yours the entire ride, a silent reassurance that, no matter how overwhelming things became, you wouldn’t have to face them alone.

Thankfully, everything went smoothly with the lawsuit against your father. While the statute of limitations on the abuse you experienced as a child had already passed, Jos provided compelling testimony as a witness, and the case concluded without much trouble. There were some whispers in the media, but Max spared no expense to ensure the story stayed out of the spotlight, keeping your life as private as possible.

Since that fateful day at the hotel, your life had changed dramatically. Your belongings had been moved into Max's room, and now you slept together every night. Max rarely went anywhere without you if he could help it, and the connection between you only deepened with time.

You’d also applied to art school and were now waiting for the new semester to begin. Alex, ever your cheerleader, was ecstatic about the news, eagerly discussing your potential and the projects you could take on. Meanwhile, Charles had taken to bragging that he’d known about your marriage before anyone else on the grid, which only fuelled the Lestappen theories online, especially with your friendship with Alex adding to the chatter.

The windows in your shared Monaco apartment were wide open, letting in a soft sea breeze as you sat in front of a canvas, your playlist softly filling the room. The view was breathtaking, but you were lost in your work, a blend of vibrant colours slowly taking shape on the canvas. You didn’t hear Max enter, fresh from the gym. He’d tried to get you to join him countless times, but you always resisted, finding your balance in Pilates a few times a week.

Max paused when he saw you, your brush gliding across the canvas as you mouthed the lyrics to the song playing in your ears. The sight made his heart swell—this was his proudest achievement, seeing you at peace, content, and thriving. Quietly, he walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, startling you enough that you let out a squeak, dropping your brush.

“Max! The floor!” You whined, glaring down at the smear of paint on the floorboards.

“It doesn’t matter.” He muttered, his lips brushing your neck before his gaze turned to the canvas. “Again?”

“Not my fault you’re my muse.” You replied cheekily, turning your head to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The painting was of his eye this time—just a close-up as part of a larger composition.

“Would you like me to paint another man’s eyes?” You teased, raising a brow as you wiped your brush on a cloth.

Max smirked, pulling you closer. “No. Just mine, Mrs. Verstappen.”

“That’s what I thought, Mr. Verstappen.” You shot back with a grin.

As you turned to grab another brush, Max pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to you. “I got you something.”

You blinked in surprise as he opened his hand, revealing a pair of earrings—your Tiffany earrings, the ones you’d had to sell to survive. Your breath caught as you reached out to touch them, the memories of that difficult time flashing through your mind.

“Max… how did you…”

“I tracked them down.” He said softly, his blue eyes full of warmth. “I know how much they meant to you, and now they can mean something happy again.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He interrupted, his tone firm yet gentle. “You deserve to have everything you lost, and more.”

You smiled through your tears and threw your arms around his neck, holding him close. “Thank you.” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Max kissed the top of your head, his hands stroking your back.

“Anything for you.” He murmured. “Always.”

Main Taglist: @gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life . @a-beaverhausen .

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@itgirlofthecenturysposts

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

[katiascraft]

༄“I would set the world on fire for you” | LN4 ⟢

Parings: lando norris x gf!reader.

Summary: after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

Word count: +5k.

Warnings: written and smau. angst and fluff at the same time. Anxiety attack. Overthinking. Selfhatred. Language. And that’s it. I’m not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: lately I NEED to write things to cope with my feelings so here it is. Hope Vegas is good to all of my boys 💌 don’t forget to like, reflow or comment! Ur support its way loved here. and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Your heart was completely shattered. Your heart was racing to get out of your car at the airport. In exactly 20 minutes your boyfriend will be back home after the worst weekend ever imagined. You couldn't assist the Brazilian GP because of your work schedule. You had a few meetings after Mexico gp. And you felt so guilty about it. You knew lando would be more protected if you were there. At least in the intimacy of you, emotionally speaking. Having someone there for him to hug and to comfort him. to calm his mind. To stop the self hatred you knew it was playing right now in his head. 

Lando is an overthinker and you get him because you were also one. You knew to which scenarios his mind can travel to and how painful it can be for him to live with himself sometimes. You were fighting your tears reading all of the atrocious things people commented online. You knew that wasn't real life. But you also knew he would see all that and how that would weigh in his heart. They can never let him win. And the worst part was only because it was just him. Other drivers could do or say worse things and everybody would laugh and brush it off. But when it came to Lando, he was a monster, a loser, an arrogant son of a bitch. That hurt deeply. Because in reality lando is the sweetest soul you have ever met. And you knew how vulnerable he could be. Tho you always admired him for that. You always thought that the bravest and strongest people in this world are the ones that admit to need help, the ones that are vulnerable and open about it. In a world this cruel, that was no easy task. But he did time and time again.and he did even knowing how shitty people were gonna be to him. Though, he did it for people he knew that counted on him. Lando always talks about how people sometimes come to him saying he has saved their lives and the impact he had on them. It's something beautiful yet that weighted on his  shoulders as well, you thought. 

You crossed the airport gates. Anxiety shaking your whole body. You wanted to hug him so bad. To tell him everything was gonna be fine. 

You opened the flight information he sent you before his plane took off so you looked for the probable gate he was coming out of when landed. Even though you were anxious you were also relieved that he was home with you.

After a few minutes passed by, a lot of people started coming out of the door you were waiting for. You started gazing at everyone just to find him. After a bunch of people got out, there he was. One of the last ones to go through the door. When you saw him your body almost came undone. You were out of air for a moment while the two of you got closer. When he is finally within reach, you give him the strongest hug you could. He melted on you, hugging you by your neck. Not much time passed when you heard him crying hid in your neck. Your heart that was shattered, broke immediately. You tighter your grip unto him. He started to sob and you couldn't hold your own tears at that point. You knew he had the worst time on that flight, alone with his cruel thoughts torturing him for hours. And there was nothing that you could do to protect him. You couldn't say a word. There was nothing that you could say that it would make things better right now. 

Lando was sobbing and shaking. His levels of anxiety reached a high when he saw you standing there looking for him desperately with your eyes. He needed you. But life’s a bitch and you couldn't stay with him throughout the whole American leg. He came undone in your arms. He needed to hug you for so long. He was broken. His mind replying to all the mistakes he made. All of his wrong decisions. All of the shit he said. He was embarrassed, angry and defeated. He was ashamed of himself. Disgusted. Frustrated and scared.  

Yu rubbed his back trying to comfort him in the hug and trying to not cry so you could be the strong one for him. He needed you, you knew it. And you wanted to fix all of this in a snap of fingers, but you couldn't. 

“It’s okay baby. You are gonna be alright, I promise. I love you. You’re home now ", Yu said, to make him feel at least slightly better. When he heard you he started sobbing even harder. You let him take all the time he needed. While doing so, you tried to see where you were and how you could, if someone was recording and taking a picture. Fortunately you were almost alone. It was the last flight arriving for today. You feel relieved knowing this won't be used against him by the cruel internet trolls. 

(...)

The drive home was silent. No music, no speaking. He didn't even look at you the whole ride. He was looking through the window avoiding any contact with society you thought while driving your Audi R8 V10 GT RWD through the illuminated Monaco streets. It was around 9pm. You had cooked for him some home made pasta you knew he adored. You just wanted him to feel better. 

When you got home, he took his bags to the room with your help. You left his second suitcase next to his wardrobe and saw him lying on the bed.

“I made your fav homemade pasta. Do you want me to bring it here and eat it in bed?” you offered him with a soft voice. He was looking to the ceiling. He did not answer right away, but after a few moments he did.

“I'm not hungry, but thank you. Maybe i'll eat later” he said with a deep cracky voice and turned himself in the bed showing you his back. You frowned a bit. 

He couldn't look at you. He hated that you could see him like this. He was ashamed of himself drawing in self pity and self hatred. He felt he let you down. 

“Aln, did you eat something during the flight at least?” you asked worriedly, walking forward to the bed so you could get closer to him. You sat on the table next to his back looking at him. You didn't want to touch him just because you didn't know if he would want you to. You didn't want to be invasive. You stayed in silence for a few minutes. You understood he didn't eat, that he didn't want to either or speak. So you stood up and let him have his alone time closing the door gently behind your back.

You ate alone that night.in silence just as if you could hear him from your kitchen aisle. The past was really good. You turned off your phone after washing the dishes and tidied the kitchen and living room up. You didn't want to see what social media was saying about your lover before bed. It was already enough scrolling and reading so many people wishing lando to die. That was the hardest part of it all. You left your phone charging on the kitchen counter and went to your shared room. When you entered he was already showered getting into the bed again. You half smiled at him even though he couldn't see you. You put on your pajamas in silence and climbed up the bed. He looked at you while you were getting comfortable next to him. 

Your eyes met. Any of you said anything. Just looked at each other trying to read each other thought as if that was possible. He licked his dry lips. His eyes turned glassy.

“I messed everything up,” he said almost in a whisper. Your heart is breaking again. You shook your head at him getting closer and bringing him into your chest. You hugged him tightly.

“No you didnt baby. Sometimes people are just mean, you know? They will interpret things as the wish” you said softly rubbing his back and arm and caressing his hair gently. He felt a bit better under your frame. He felt protected but as a little kid when missbehaved so now he tries to find comfort. He didn't want to cry.he was trying hard not to let tears stream down his cheeks.  You kissed his forehead and made him look at you. “I know you dont wanna talk about it but i  love and i am so deeply and entirely proud of you” you whisper close to his face. You saw him pout and the first tears coming down his face. You hugged him tightly. He hid in your neck and eventually fell asleep. You wanted to set the world on fire for this. You wanted to ruin every single person who says awful things about it. The comments, the media. You wanted to destroy everything and everyone just to protect him. He doesn't deserve this. He is an angel and you can't believe the world could only see the devil in him. 

Lando tried to sleep but he couldn't. Everytime he closed his eyes, all of the tragic scenes from the race replayed in his mind. How the car felt, the rain, the radio messages, Oscar's voice, comments from his engineer . everything replayed in his head torturing him the worst way possible. He felt like getting down. He felt alone and miserable. He remembered Oscar words replying in his mind over and over again. “You will eventually make it, mate”. It was a positive message but he replayed it like a fucking nightmare. 

What if he never makes it? What if he doesn't have what it takes? What if people are right? What if he is actually a monster and deserves to die? What if he did? Would they like him again or figure him out? Would anyone care about his feelings? Why does it have to be him and not someone else? Why are they all so cruel to him?

He couldn't stop thinking about every single detail about the weekend. He didn't want to celebrate his birthday anymore. He had you there but couldn't look at you. He felt disgusted by himself. He can't control it. He wants to go back into go karts and stop the time when he was actually happy and having fun with his friends. Now that line between friends and enemies is so blurry for him. Max didn't talk to him like before when all of this shit started. He knew Max was really competitive, of course he did, everyone knew it since day 1. But what about their friendship? Lando shit talked, max shit talked. He felt so confused even by his own feelings around this whole shitty situation or championship situation. Whatever you want to call it. 

(...)

When you woke up the next morning he was gone. You felt kind of confused for a bit. You heard him talking so you guessed he was speaking on the phone. When you got up from bed you walked out the room to find him. When you got closer to the living room you knew he was talking to Max on facetime because you heard his voice. 

“Morning, guys” you said, getting into the kitchen for some water to take your thyroid pills. Lando looked at you half-smile. 

“Good morning baby” he said as sweetly as he could. You smiled at him. Before coming back to your room to shower and stuff you went and gave him a good morning kiss making Max almost throw up when he saw you in a funny way. You showed him the middle finger and disappeared so he could talk in private with his mate. You respected his place a lot. And i guess that’s why you understand so much each other. 

(...)

The following day things got worse. Lando hasn't eaten any meal you prepared for him, didn't even want to have take out or anything. You found him crying in the kitchen and in the garden by the pool of your house. His anxiety was killing him, you knew. The desperation and guilt were eating him alive and you didn't know what to do rather than try to talk and comfort him.

He was sitting on the sofa in the living room. His sight was fixed on the floor without moving. You got alarmed because you knew what was going on. You got close slowly to not trigger him even more. His face was red, his hands sweaty and shaking. You sat on the floor diagonal from him looking at him. Slowly and gently you grabbed his hands trying to capture his brain's attention and get him out of the fog he was in. You were almost sure he was having an anxiety attack and he started because of your touch. You gently rubbed your fingers in his hands. He was out of breath for a moment and you got scared so you tried to do as your therapist told you in case someone you know goes through this. 

“Lan, can you hear me? Try to pay attention to my voice okay? I'm here and I'm with you dull be alright” you said really softly trying to make him look at you. You looked for his eyes with your gaze. “It’s not as terrible as you think, baby, I promise. You aren't all of those things people comment” you used your words carefully. His hands caught your strength and so you reassured him. You saw his pout becoming deeper. You hurt to see him like this. It was so unfair. He doesnt deserve this, god. And he broke. He broke down again. His tears streamed down his face. Sobbing in so much pain. You sat next to him to hug him tightly once more. But now you knew it was worse. He was shaking under your arms.you let him go through this. So he can let go of all of this shit inside him. “I promise lando, you aren't all of those things. People are just mean and cruel. You are a good baby and so talented. Gifted. You have it in you I promise, I can see it” you tried to comfort him with your words as well, trying to distract your mind from the tragic thought he was dealing with by himself. A few tears fell down your face. It was a hard time. And you were trying to be strong for him. 

“I'm so stupid I'm sorry” he sobbed and you shook your head. 

“No, Lando, you aren't. I promise okay? Believe me.i know you and you aren't. And this will pass. All the people that know you for real, we love you and we are so proud of you. You had an amazing year. You are fucking fighting a three time world champion, even sooner than he did with lewis back in 2021. That’s huge my love. Your dream is near, I just know it. Because I know you, and you’ll make it, baby. You didn't let anyone down. You're getting stronger so when you finally make it, all of these moments will make it taste so much better and sweeter” you explained while rubbing his back. Your words made an effect on him. Heslowly calming down. He didn't want to let you go. He wanted to just stay there in your arms. Where he felt safe and sound. Noone could hurt him there. That was what made him fall for you. You saw him. You knew him. And you care about him. He was finally important for someone for being lando, and not lando norris formula one driver. His past lovers left him feeling confused whether they loved him for him or their idea of him. You came outta nowhere and blew him away. You were brutally honest, no filter yet so gentle and caring with your words. He thought his perfect girl didn't exist but then there was you, listening to him for hours if he needed to. Giving him the best advice and clearing his perspective. Always cheering him up. Cracking jokes so he could distract and feel relaxed. Heknew he was in love with you the moment you offered to give him a ride because he was drunk as well at a new years party. It was normal but the fact that a stranger could do that for him blew his mind. He never admitted afraid people would think it’s weird. But it is what it is. Your smile ended him right there and when you started cracking jokes he didn't want to live in that damn car for the rest of his life. So here you are 4 years later,and you still be the greatest person in the world and the one who knew him the most. He felt your lips on his forehead. For a moment he thought about leaving racing. What if his life was better without it in it? He could go back to Bristol and be with his friends. With you. Maybe start a family and have a normal job so you could spend each day together. He started crying again at that thought. He loved racing but this year was the hardest yet amazing one. 

He finally calmed down after a few minutes in silence. He looked at you with puppy eyes. You caressed his face gently brushing a few tears falling down still. 

“Would you be there with me? Could you?” he asked, making you a bit confused. And he noticed. “To the races. I need you there. Please. To every race and when I become a champion,would you be there with me? You could feel he's scared. You half smiled at him melting as his comment.

“Of course I'll be there, baby. I’ll always be there for and with you. If I could , I would set the whole world on fire just for you. Never doubt it, okay?” he nodded and you pulled him closer to give him so many little kisses around his whole face making him gigle a little. 

“I love you, y/n” he said looking at you fondly.

“I love you, lando. Everything’s gonna be alright” you said, assuring him and gave a peck on his lips. “Go have a shower and dress cute im gonna take you out on a date before your birthday” you said more lighful to cheer him up and his face lit up.

“Really?” you noddedat him and send him to shower agin funny. Before going with him so yhou both looked facy, you needed to say something to the world. You couldnt stay crossed arms and do nothing about it. 

── .✦

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maxfewtrell: I CHOKED

norrisfan: omg thank u queen for this

user45: ur as dumb as he is. you cant defend him. he sucks and thats it darling. don lie to yourself.

── .✦

You turned off your phone once again. You were already so fed up with it all. Let them talk. You were sure they would choke with their own shit eventually. 

but  continued with the day. Lando was still a little off but he was looking better so maybe he is actually feeling better. You took out to dinner at a restaurant he always dreamed of going to. He was so happy to be there. The food was delicious. It was near the beach though it is colder here so we looked at it through the glass window. You gossip and talk about anything and everything as if everything was alright. And it was a fact it was. Because this is real life. Not social media. A few people stopped you while eating to ask for pictures and Lando said yes every time you even became a photoshoot photographer. Nice people telling him nice things was what he needed right now. Plus, you would never be pissed off by his fans. You were actually grateful for them. Of course, some can be disrespectful but you knew the real one was it. You really embraced Lando's life even though it’s nothing like the life you’d dreamed of to have one day. But he is the boy of your dreams so why would it be a problem. 

November, 13th

When the clock hit midnight, the restaurant made a cake for him so we all sang him happy birthday. You chose his favorite type of cake. He giggled all nervous and shy. His cheeks red while his eyes showed a little sparkle while watching the candles. He blew them. You recorded the whole thing and took so many pictures. He thanked the staff and staff of the restaurant and they let you enjoy the cake in comfort. Your heart was full to see him a little back again. 

After The restaurant kicked you out because they needed to close, you decided to do a road trip through the mountains of monaco. You always enjoy a good ride with good music and good company. And you also had sex in the car. You kind of guessed he needed to take his frustrations out somehow because you had the rough sex you really enjoyed. He joked it was his best birthday present making you laugh. He was joking again. 

“Thank you” he said while gently rubbing your naked chest. You were seated on him. You smiled and leaned for a soft kiss on his lips. You really loved him. And all you wanted for him was happiness and well being. And you would do anything to make sure he is okay. 

You came back home and had another round of sex. Enjoying yourselves in intimacy. Lando finally fell asleep after a terrible few days, in the calm of your body. His face on your bare chest. You clothed him and fell asleep relieved.

── .✦

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yourusername: What can I say about you? There's no words that can describe your greatness. Or my feelings for you. I'm so grateful you were born on November 13th. 25 years ago my best friend and the love of my life was brought to this world. And sometimes what unfair is that, right? A world that is so cruel to you. A world that doesn't deserve your greatness and kindness nor your attention. You are the greatest son, brother, uncle, friend and lover. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't actually know you. We are all so lucky that you choose us to spend your time on this world with. Thank you for being who you care. For caring about the people you love and making sure we are alright and happy. Thank you for being the light that you are for so many lives. Thank you for being vulnerable. I admire you so much, lan. You are the strongest and bravest human I know. so honest and open. Anyone who says otherwise, actually, doesn't know you. I know this is not the best birthday of your life, but I promise you I'll try to make it better. Thank you for being who you are to me. I promise I see you and I care. You're the love of my life. And I'm so lucky you love me over any other human out there. So happy birthday to the prettiest and most genuine, real, fun, kind, warm person I have the chance to call mine everyday. Hope you have the best day you can have right now. That’s the least you deserve. I love you forever bestie. Don’t ever change.

tagged: landonorris

comments on this post have been disabled.

── .✦

── .✦

So you had a master plan for Lando's birthday. You went to the Hilton hotel for some coffee with Max and Lando of course. We lied and said pietra couldn't make it because she had a meeting and Lando believed. Truth was, you have contacted all of his friends and arregened flights so everyone could make it to Monaco on time. Pietra was the one in your house. You left her a spare key yesterday evening after coffee with alex. You gave her the directions and the idea of what you wanted while you and Max distracted Lando until 7pm, she decorated the house and received all of his friends. Lando had no clue of what was going on but he was so happy it was the second cake you brought to him. You recorded the moment and seeing him smile made your heart melt. 

── .✦

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landonorris: I love you greatest girlfriend there to exist. Thank u for everything and specially for making this day so much better. Ur an Angel ❤️‍🩹

⤷ yourusername: I love u more Angel ❤️‍🩹 the least you deserve is to be loved and happy.

User33: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Landostan: THANK U FOR EXISTING AND TAKING SUCH CARE OF HIM UR A QUEEN I LOVE U WE LOVE U

carlossainz55: ur the best 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername: te extraño hermano we need to double date with Rebecca again asap!

── .✦

When 7pm came around we all “decided” to go to your house and eat pizza for dinner. Lando even said to me that they could do a stream and have fun for a bit. You agreed and all knowing that wasn't gonna happen. The ride home was so much fun. You spent the 20 minute ride screaming a one direction song from the top of your lungs. You sang Lando ‘through the dark’ And he sang ‘You and i’.it was lovely, Max almost threw up when you kissed. Luckily he was driving so he hadn't watched much of your pda. 

You got out of the car trying to play it cool though you were so nervous. You saw Max texting Pietra that you were close.the lights were off. And silent. Your nervousness took over you when you tried to open the door but let the keys fall nervously. Thankfully Max and Lando were discussing which type of pizza they would order. Finally you opened the door, lando behind you and so you turned on the lights.

Everyone jumped from everywhere saying happy birthday in unison. Yoursmile was so big but when you saw lando his smile was even bigger.

“Surprise!” you said and lando was still processing it. But when his friend started hugging him he started crying out of joy. He thought his friends weren't coming this year because of their busy schedule.but that was a lie you made them tell so lando wouldn suspect anything. Fortunately, they all kept the secret safe. Lando was so happy. 

You all spent the night playing poker, drinking gin and tonics and surrounded by laughter and love. In the moment, around everybody, you felt lucky to be there. Especially to be in landos life. Everyone was so sweet and good just like him. He deserves the world.

Everyone went home around 2 am. You were exhausted and tipsy at the end of the night. So you put your pajamas on and sled straight on the bed. Lando wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for everything. It was a great birthday. Thank u for always taking care of me always.you make me the happiest” he said under a whisper looking at you. He looked so gorgeous with that little smile and tired eyes. You stroked his cheek gently, smiling. 

“You deserve to be happy darling. You are unstoppable. Better days at work will come,I know.but im grateful that you have so much love surrounding you. I love you” he smiled widely listening to you and leaned to kiss you with so much feelings and passion. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him and also the greatest decision he has ever made when he asked you out.

── .✦

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f1gossipofficial: here it is @/yourusername at the McLaren garage ready for fp1 cheering for his 4 year boyfriend @/landonorris! Lando was asked about the whole drama around the Brazil gp and his birthday and her statement and he said ‘I’m lucky to have her. I would set the world on fire for her. So yeah. We are the same that is why we work so well. It was a great birthday though. She brought my whole group of friend to Monaco for a poker night so yeah’ also he said that if it wasn’t for her he would’ve collapsed on his overthinking but thankfully she was there. We love a power couple on the grid!! What do we think about all of this? #LasVegasGP2024

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User1873: they are both the same shit tbh

User23: I LOVE THEM GREATEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

User29873: I don’t like lando but she cute supporting him like that. I saw she gave a kiss to him before getting into the car. They seem in love!

⤷ Usrr988: I KNOW TIGHT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY I CAUGHT THAT KISS IN THE OFFICIAL TRANSMISSION

Yourbff: she is the greatest person you would know!! Let’s go lan!!!

User564: Max will win the dwc and NOTHING would change that or move me so

User90: omg she is so pretty

y/nstan: how lucky lando is to have her. She is always the sweetest to all of his fans. And also funny. Such a queen!

User897: where are the pictures of them arriving together????????! I NEED THEM

⤷ user45: so iconic need to marry asap

── .✦

It was the day. The day you were back to media duties. Back to being a target for social media. Back supporting your boyfriend no matter what. You even went on media day to be there for him if he needed it. You chatted with everyone around to entertain yourself while he was doing interviews. 

Oscar helped a lot and the whole McLaren team to make Lando feel safe and actually enjoy the weekend. You Were grateful for it. At least they decided not to be dicks in front of his face. 

Fp1 was about to start and you were proudly there in the garage to cheer on him. You were also anxious because you felt things almost like him and this competition is rather never racking. You kissed him gently but shortly. A good luck kiss before getting into the car. He smiled widely. 

“Go be the best you can be. You’re great” you told him sweetly.

“I'll try my best to impress you,” he replied, letting go of your hand. 

“You already do everyday babe” you said smiling making him grin before walking into the car to start the first session of the weekend. 

You watched from there how fp1 unfolded hoping this would be a great weekend.

── .✦ FIN

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[lovebugism]

smutty requests you say... maybe eddie x reader fooling around secretly, while wayne's home? so like a little exhibitionism kink?

i'm just now realizing i totally misread the prompt so pls forgive me anon, i'll happily write a part 2 to this if u want!! — the first time uncle wayne catches you and eddie in the act™ (established relationship, inspired by this universe, smut 18+ | 1.3k)

“Alright. I’m headed out,” Wayne announces in a gravelly drawl, huffing as he rises from his creaking recliner. His work boots sound heavy on the worn carpet as he trudges towards the front door, closer to a wretched and unavoidable graveyard shift. His old bones are weighed down by a preemptive dread and a homemade meal you cooked with him in mind.

Eddie feels bad for being so happy to see him leave.

“Have fun,” the boy lilts playfully from where he’s sprawled along the couch, smiling wide with his head tilted to his shoulder.

Wayne grumbles vaguely in response.

“Bye, Mr. Munson,” you grin more sincerely than the boy beside you.

The man flashes you a mere hint of a grin, which is a whole lot more than most people get these days. He pulls a worn baseball cap over his balding head and nods once in your direction. “Bye, sweetpea,” he responds in his usual gritty and melodic Southern cadence.

The rusted hinges of the screen door squeal open and shut behind him. A wintery breeze billows in, briefly piercing the heated trailer and biting at Eddie’s burning skin. 

You idle on the other side of the couch, with your eyes drawn to the sitcom playing in static colors ahead of you — unaware of your boy’s building desire and far too distant for his liking. Eddie marvels at your profile, unabashed and boyish, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

He hears Wayne’s truck door close with a muffled thud. The ignition rattles for a moment, then roars when amber headlights shine suddenly through the sheer curtains. Eddie waits until he hears the tires crunch against the gravel drive before he pounces on you, like unsuspecting prey to a predator of unbridled longing.

You squeal when his mouth locks suddenly with your pulse, warm and wet on your unkissed skin. He wraps you in his arms like he intends to smother you against him. You swear you can feel his heart racing against your shoulder. His tongue darts along the most sensitive spot on your neck, and your head tips back with an airy laugh.

“What?” Eddie mumbles, muffled into your skin.

“Nothing,” you giggle. “Just thought you’d last longer than that.”

“Hm. Feel like I’ve heard that one before.”

“Shut up,” you gripe, but pull him impossibly closer just the same.

You bury your nose in his wild curls, inhaling the sweet scent of his conditioner and the subtle skunky smell of weed. He mouths at your neck with an intentional sloppiness that makes your eyes flutter.

Eddie grumbles a moan against your skin, which you feel in little tingles in the pit of your stomach. “You taste good,” the boy observes mindlessly into your pulse.

“I taste like sweat,” you scoff against his temple. “I still need to shower.”

“What’s the point? You’re just gonna get dirty again.”

Eddie pulls away with a soft smack. His lips are rosy and softly swollen as they curl into a grin. His chocolate eyes swim with mischief as yours narrow into a squint. “You’re such a boy,” you deadpan.

“Just love you,” the boy shrugs. “That’s all.”

You’re grateful when his lips finally meet yours. You’re only able to breathe when he’s kissing you, in a heavy exhale through your nose that fans along his cupid’s bow. He licks into your mouth tasting like a homecooked meal and nicotine and boy. Something foreign and nostalgic and tender. You melt into him accordingly. 

When he urges you to lay back against the couch, you let him. You cradle his face in your hands to keep him close as he props himself on his forearms, careful not to crush you despite his efforts to kiss the breath from your lungs. His weight is a comforting one anyway — body warm and lean and pleasantly heavy on top of yours.

You forget to take another breath until Eddie pulls away. You inhale deeply, lungs grateful for air, as the boy’s mouth treks down your jaw.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck and collarbone, spit cooling and drying again on your skin. Goosebumps pebble in their wake, while his hand slides down your stomach.

His fingertips creep into the waistline of your pajama pants, perhaps a fruitless distraction from the lovebite he sucks just below your jaw. It’s a burning sensation of his teeth, followed by a warmer, more pleasant one as his tongue smooths over the bite.

“What are you? A vampire?” you giggle, fingers twisting in his hair.

You feel his smile curl into your neck. “Maybe,” he quips.

“I have to go leave eventually. You know that, right? And my roommates will freak if they see a hickey.”

Eddie whines between his kisses. “No, you don’t,” he insists with an audible frown. “Why can’t you just stay here forever?”

“Even if I wanted to, Wayne would still see. And that would be equally as horrifying.”

“He won’t be back until morning,” Eddie argues, punctuated by his teeth scraping your pulse. “It’ll be faded by then. Probably.” He licks over the bite and pulls away, peering down at you with a mischievous leer. “Unless… You want me to stop?” he offers in a sarcastic lilt.

You squirm under his gaze. “No…” you answer sheepishly.

He grins. “Then stop complaining, sweet thing.”

“Eddie,” you scold when the boy ducks down again, continuing his assault on your delicate skin, though you make no further attempt to stop him.

His kisses grow wetter and warmer and more languid as his hand travels down down down. A breathy moan catches in your throat when his calloused palm cups your bare pussy.

The damp, velvet feeling of you makes Eddie’s eyes widen. He didn’t know you’d be naked down there. He might’ve been more careful about it if he had.

“Shit,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you squeak, face swirled apologetically.

Eddie pulls away again, head spinning as he stares down at you with heavy eyes. “No— Don’t— Don’t apologize for that shit, are you kidding?” he stammers, then laughs at how sorrowful you look. Like this could ever be a bad thing. “It’s hot.”

You smile sheepishly. “I’m just running out of clean clothes. That’s why I had to do the laundry today.”

“Well, next time, I’m just gonna lock the door to the washer,” Eddie retorts playfully. “So then you have to walk around naked.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a boy,” you repeat, right before you drag him down by his shoulders to swallow him in another kiss.

You lick into his mouth only to find that his hand had never wavered. He cups you delicately there still, and creeps his middle finger between your satiny folds. 

Your hips buck on instinct. His palm bumps your clit. Your moans entwine in a kiss.

The screen door opens again with another grating screech. You and Eddie part instantly, swollen mouths smacking as your heads turn in sync.

Wayne stills in the doorway, weathered face swirled in horror. Neither of you move for several long moments — like, if you stay still, you’ll turn invisible somehow.

“Really?” Wayne huffs. “On the couch?”

Eddie’s wide eyes dart awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” he wonders breathlessly, still on top of you and still with his hand down your pants.

“Forgot my damn wallet.” Wayne keeps his gaze averted as he trudges to the tiny, square dining table by the window. He tucks the leather billfold into the pocket of his navy jumpsuit and promptly returns the way he came.

You and Eddie spare a wordless look of horror between you in the meanwhile.

“Do it in a bed next time, alright?” Wayne advises from the doorway with his back facing you. The rusted door creaks open and, just before it shuts behind him, you hear him shout. “And use protection!”

[hoshifighting]

how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues

WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3

a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it

seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.

jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.

joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”

junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.

hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.

woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.

wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.

minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.

mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”

seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”

seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b

vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.

chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SAILOR SONG

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a comfy indoor date; baking together.

WARNING: Making out.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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'I saw her in the rightest way'

The kitchen was an absolute mess, a delightful, chaotic swirl of ingredients strewn across the counters, flour dusting the air, and the aroma of vanilla mixing with the sound of their favorite playlist softly drifting in from the living room. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene as Y/N stood at the counter, carefully measuring flour into a white-ish ceramic bowl. Beside her, Matt was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed solely on her, watching her with an intensity that could have melted chocolate.

"Okay, so you just, like, throw the flour in, right?" Matt asked, breaking the comfortable silence, reaching for the open bag with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that spelled disaster.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively darting forward to stop him.

"Wait, wait- Matt, no!" But it was too late. A poof of flour erupted like a mini explosion, covering both of them in a soft, powdery cloud.

Matt froze, blinking through the haze, and then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"Oops." He said with that boyish grin of his, the one that made Y/N’s heart do a little flip every time.

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, laughter bubbling up as she brushed flour off her cheek.

"You’re such a mess." She teased, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling.

"And yet, here you are teaching me." He shot back, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess that says something about you, huh?"

"Yeah." She said with a mock exasperated sigh. "That I’m a hopeless romantic who thinks you can actually learn how to bake."

Matt just grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on her flour-dusted nose, making her scrunch it up adorably in response.

"Alright, lover boy." Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. "Let’s try not to blow up the kitchen, okay? I need you to grab the sugar next."

"Yes, ma’am." Matt replied, snapping a playful salute before turning to rummage through the cupboard. He managed to grab the sugar jar without spilling anything this time - progress, she thought with a fond smile.

They continued to work side by side, the kitchen filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar. Y/N would occasionally reach out to correct Matt’s technique, her touch light but effective. Every time their hands brushed, Matt would flash her that lopsided grin that always made her cheeks warm. She tried to stay focused, but with him being so close, so effortlessly charming, it was a losing battle.

At some point, they both reached for the vanilla extract at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and Matt shot her a playful look.

"Hey, who’s the baker here?" Y/N teased, nudging him aside with her hip, her laughter light and teasing.

"I don’t know, I don't see them anywhere." He joked, pretending to search around the room, making her roll her eyes though the grin on her lips was impossible to hide.

They kept mixing and measuring, Matt’s enthusiasm both endearing and chaotic. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he made his biggest blunder yet. He grabbed the baking soda and dumped a generous amount into the bowl, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

"Matt, no!" Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "That’s way too much! You’re going to ruin the batter!"

Matt looked from the bowl to her, then back at the bowl, his eyes comically wide. But instead of panicking, he simply shrugged and started laughing, his laughter so infectious that Y/N’s frustration began to dissolve.

"Matt, I’m serious." She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This was supposed to be perfect, and now they’re going to taste like-"

"Hey, hey." Matt said softly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'm sorry, yeah?"

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his warm embrace. Y/N sighed, trying to hold onto her annoyance, but the way he was looking at her - with that soft, adoring gaze - made it nearly impossible.

As if the universe was observing them closely, te next song on the queue started playing, and when Matt realized that it was one of their favorite - Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, obviously - his body started swaying gently, bringing her with him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying not to smile, her voice softening as her hands found home against his biceps.

"Distracting you." He said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Is it working?"

Y/N tried to stay annoyed, but the tenderness in his eyes melted her defenses.

"You are so ridiculous." She said, but her words were softened by the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Ridiculously in love with you." He murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Can you forgive me?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she let out a soft, defeated sigh, leaning into him fully.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "But you’re still fixing the batter."

"Deal." He said with a grin. And before she could pull away, he spun her around in a quick twirl, eliciting a surprised, joyful laugh from her, her apron flowing around her body.

As she came back into his arms, breathless and giddy, her eyes met blue soft ones, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, Mr. Sturniolo."

"And you love me for it." He replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her against him.

"Yeah." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

With the playful moment fading into a comfortable silence, they returned to the counter, side by side once more. Y/N sighed dramatically, surveying the batter that was now slightly too foamy from Matt’s over-enthusiastic addition of baking soda.

"Okay, let’s see if we can salvage this." She said, her voice taking on that determined tone Matt found so adorable.

"How bad did I mess it up?" He asked, a wince escaping his lips.

"Not too bad." Y/N admitted with a small, fond smile. "We can balance it out with a little extra flour and sugar."

"Got it." Matt said, nodding eagerly as he grabbed the bag of flour, waiting for her instructions.

They worked together to fix the batter, Matt actually listening this time, his focus unwavering as Y/N explained what to do. After a few minutes of adjustments, Y/N dipped her finger into the batter for a taste test. Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise.

"Hey, it’s actually good!" She exclaimed.

Matt’s face broke into a proud grin.

"See? I knew I could fix it." He said smugly.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N hummed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Pretty sure I did most of the fixing."

"But it was my idea to fix it." He countered, leaning in to press his lips against her warm cheek.

"Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you mess up anything else." Y/N said, lifting the tray carefully.

Her fingers were nimble as she adjusted the rack, carefully placing the cupcake tray into the preheated oven.

Matt couldn’t help but stop for a bit and just stare, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving her. There was something about watching her work, so effortlessly absorbed in what she loved, that made him feel as though the entire world had slowed to a gentle stop just for them.

It wasn't his fault. He reasoned to himself. It wasn't his fault he found everything she did so endlessly endearing, so worth watching with that starstruck gaze that his brothers teased him about. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers dusted with flour, her lips pursed slightly as she adjusted the oven dial; it all made his heart swell.

Y/N stood up, wiping her hands on her yellow apron and closing the oven door with a soft clink. She turned to grab the timer, only to notice the way Matt was staring at her, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dazed expression. He looked as if he were lost in a dream, his gaze so soft it made her heart skip a beat.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she tilted her head slightly and smiled shyly.

"What?" She asked with a soft laugh, setting the timer up. "Do I still have flour on my face?"

Matt didn’t answer right away, his eyes never wavering from hers. It was like he was in some kind of trance, completely mesmerized. After a few seconds, he finally blinked, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah." He said simply, his voice so low and gentle it made her stomach flip.

Before she could ask where, Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Right here." He dipped his head and began to trail soft, lingering kisses along her jaw. His lips brushed tenderly against her skin, and with each kiss, he pulled a soft, breathless giggle from her lips. The sweet sound made him smile against her cheek, his eyes closing as he continued his path to her chin, and then to her cheeks, where he left playful kisses that were so light, they were almost ticklish.

"Matt." She breathed out, half-laughing, half-sighing, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Her fingers traced slow circles over his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

He paused, hovering just above her lips, so close that she could feel the ghost of his breath on her mouth but not quite touching her. His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a playfulness mixed with adoration in them that made her knees feel weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her like this.

"Matt." She repeated, her voice a whisper now, filled with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

"Kiss me properly." She demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?'

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in just a fraction more, brushing his lips against hers, still not quite giving in. But Y/N, never one to be outdone, closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that sent warmth blooming through her chest.

Matt’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Y/N’s hands wandered from his chest to his biceps, squeezing slightly at the firmness there, before sliding up to his shoulders and finally into his hair. She tugged gently, earning a soft sigh from him that she could feel warming up her face.

Their lips curved into smiles as they kissed, each touch and movement so full of affection it made Y/N’s heart feel light. Matt blindly started to sway their bodies again, following the slow rhythm of the indie song, his hands exploring the small of her back, fingers spreading wide as if he wanted to memorize every curve.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, no kitchen, no baking, just the soft, sweet connection between their lips and the feel of each other’s warmth.

But the intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud DING! from the oven.

The sound made Y/N jump slightly, pulling away from Matt with a startled gasp. Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the joyous sound filling the kitchen as he pressed one last, playful kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Guess that’s our cue." He said, still chuckling as he gave her a quick eskimo kiss, their noses brushing together.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she gently pushed him away.

"Goofball." She muttered affectionately, her cheeks still flushed.

Reluctantly pulling away, Matt released her from his embrace, giving her one last, lingering look before letting her turn her attention back to the oven. Y/N leaned down to peer through the glass, her hands resting on her knees as she checked the cupcakes.

Matt watched her from behind, unable to resist the fond smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her brows knitting together as she inspected their work made his heart swell.

"They look perfect." Y/N announced, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

"All thanks to you." Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love baking with you." He whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"Even if you’re terrible at it?" She teased.

"Especially because I’m terrible at it." He replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Gives you more reasons to stick around."

'And we can run away to the walls inside your house'

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[bonniepop]

atsumu opens the door to his house and is greeted by silence and a dark first floor. it’s to be expected; it’s nearly midnight, and he got stuck in traffic on the way back home from practice.

toeing off his shoes by the door, he leaves the keys to his car on the console table and uses the flashlight on his phone to help him navigate in the darkness. he climbs up the stars and hears muffled voices. it sounds like a movie.

the upstairs hallway is fairly lit, so he uses the sound to guide him to his child’s door. gently, he turns on the knob and pokes his head in. there’s a laptop playing a children’s movie on the desk, a flurry of toys on the floor, and a mother and child snuggled on the bed.

“hey, sweetheart,” he greets softly, grinning when he catches his daughter’s attention and she perks up.

“mommy,” she says, tiny hands tapping her dozing mother’s cheek. “mommy, daddy’s here.”

—

“mommy,” your daughter calls again, and your eyes blearily blink open. “mommy, it’s daddy!”

you twist your head and smile sleepily when your gaze lands on your husband. “hi, tsum.”

“hi, baby,” he greets, slipping inside and dropping his gym bag by the door. he moves to sit but his daughter stops him.

“no, daddy,” she whines. “you can’t go on my bed. you’re dirty!”

you snort while he blinks, and you push yourself up to sit.

it takes him a while to process what she just said. “i’m not dirty!” atsumu protests, placing his hands on his hips. “i’m clean! i changed clothes before i left the gym—”

“no,” she says, wrinkling her nose and pointing to his bag by the door. “you have to shower.”

“these clothes are clean—”

“nooooo,” she whines, slapping the cushion in frustration. “shower!”

“but mommy’s on the bed and i wanna be on the bed, too—”

“but mommy’s clean!” she whines again. “shower, daddy!” she extends the r of the word shower, baring her teeth in a scowl.

his jaw drops, then he turns to gape at you. “you’re not gonna say anything?”

you tamp down your smile and shrug. “it’s easier if you just do as she says. i had to shower before i even entered her room.”

“where did you learn this?” he asks, turning back to his daughter with disbelief. “i bet it was from your grandma, ‘cause your mom ain’t as much of a neat fre—”

“okay!” you interrupt him, climbing off the bed before your daughter could expand her vocabulary. “i’ll make sure your dad bathes, sweetheart.” you lean down to kiss your daughter’s forehead.

“thank you, mommy,” she says sweetly, kissing your cheek.

“what about my kiss?” atsumu asks, shouldering his bag and frowning.

“shower first,” his daughter says resolutely.

“jesus,” atsumu mumbles under his breath, low enough that his daughter can’t make it out, and you herd him to step outside the door.

you laugh when it clicks shut behind you. “it’s your bag, you know,” you mention, walking alongside him. “whenever she sees it, that’s when she thinks you’re dirty.”

“why? i spray this thing all the time with the little—” he makes a spritzing-like motion with his fingers. “what’s it called? the thing you gave me.”

“deodorizer?”

“yeah!”

“smelling deodorized and smelling clean are different,” you point out, then point to your bedroom. “go. shower.”

he sighs in dismay, but true to himself, he's not down for long. he wiggles his eyebrows in your direction. “care to join me?”

you roll your eyes. “nice try. i’m gonna put your gross clothes in the laundry room.”

he brightens. “i can do that! after we shower together, that is.”

you sour. “and let the stink simmer? no way.” you reach out your hand. “give it to me; i’ll do it.”

he pouts a little. “but it’ll be more fun if we shower together!”

“no.”

“come on! for me?”

it's almost emasculating, seeing him beg like this, but your gaze is stone cold serious. “no.”

he grumbles in defeat and hands his bag over. “fine. but just so you know, i’m not a happy husband right now and you’ll need to make up for the lack of love and commitment at some point.”

“i give you plenty,” you say with finality before turning on your heel and heading down the stairs.

“you promised for better or for worse and i am going to collect!” he calls after you.

"shower first, then we'll discuss my marital commitments."

[thrfted]

꩜ DATING MR. CRAWLING .ᐟ

SFW GN!Reader HCS after the blissful love life ending.

Italics is in the other world’s language! Sometimes more the implied message rather than a direct translation. I'll probably do Mr. Hood later too :3 !

Your bed is much more comfortable than anything in the other world, and it only makes it better that mr. Crawling gets to be in it with you. He grows accustomed to your nightly routine and is always excited to cuddle up. Big spoon, little spoon, facing each other—all of it makes him as happy as can be!

(^ As someone who still has a twin size, some of us have to invest in a much bigger one lol)

Generally so so affectionate and loves when you’re physically affectionate !! You can kiss his head and he’ll giggle, maybe point at his face and ask “Again!” You leave kisses all over his face, and his hands pull you in close when you finally kiss his lips.

One of Mr. Crawling's strongest traits is his patience—especially when it comes to you. The first day you come home without him trailing behind (much to his dismay, and honestly yours), he’s at the door to greet you, smiling and giggling as you wrap your arms around him. You find out he hadn’t done much but wait for you to come home. (With no complaints of boredom on his part, and all the worry on yours.)

He'll sit as you play with his hair, trying out new hairstyles or putting in clips. “Me cute? Pretty?” he asks. And if you let him do the same in return, he'll giggle and compliment you too.

I think he’d look through your closet and enjoy watching you try on clothes too. He compliments you and feels each of the fabrics, liking the ones that feel softest. He might try on some of the accessories if none of the actual clothes (sort of…) fit, and is really happy when you match!

Mr. Crawling is a fast learner. You worry he'll feel overwhelmed with all the new technology and words and whatever else, so you focus on making sure he’s comfortable. But he points at things and ask what they are, repeating after you. “You teach me language?” he asks and you laugh softly before nodding. “I teach you language.”

He will accidentally touch a hot stove top or pot if you don't remember to warn him beforehand. Then whenever you cook he gets worried you'll hurt yourself, watching to make sure you're alright (forgive him if he pulls your hand away and says “Danger! Don't touch!”)

Since he doesn't know his birthday, you make the day you returned special instead! He's happy to just stay in with you, eating a good meal and watching or learning something new.

Mr. Crawling also learns when yours is and does his best to make it a good day for you too. He tries singing happy birthday and makes food with what you have at home, mimicking the meals he's seen you prepare.

You teach him how to call your phone while you're away. It's supposed to “be for emergencies,” but you both know he's going to call just to hear your voice, and who are you to complain?

I think he gets sad sometimes when he sees or hears you talking to friends—the way you communicate and laugh so easily compared to conversations with him. The other world's language itself is limited, and he hasn't learned enough of your own. You spend some evenings reassuring him, reminding him learning is a process, and it doesn't change your feelings!!

He does his best to learn on his own. You buy (exercise) books and show him shows for younger kids and he spends a lot of time alone with them, both to surprise you, and also just because he loves talking with you and wants to talk more and more.

The first time he speaks your language is a special day. After many days of calling out that you’re back, he decides to say it himself. “You home!” You almost drop everything in your hands, and that’s when he continues, “Miss you.” It feels odd hearing it in his voice, but he’s grinning so wide, and you won’t find out for a while just how excited and nervous he was waiting for you to get home.

One of Mr. Crawling’s favourite things to say and hear is “I love you.” Every time you say it, he gets all giddy and tries to get closer to you (as if that’s possible while already cuddling in bed). He says it a lot while you’re doing chores or really nothing, just to remind you and see you smile. There’s no way in his mind for those 3 words to lose their meaning, or become any less special.

[no-144444]

wingman paul- c.leclerc

summary: charles leclerc takes a liking to you at your brothers movie premiere... paul makes it happen!

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! mescal! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Did you want to go to the Gladiator 2 premiere? No, not really. Was Paul forcing you to anyways? Yes, very much so. 

Being his sister (and emotional support person), he always brought you on set, to premieres, and anywhere else. That was usually fine. The rest of his projects' premieres had either been in the Lighthouse (your favourite cinema in Dublin), or small enough that you wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. You were famous in your own right, following after your sister and writing music. You didn’t go on stage, but you’d garnered over 10 million listeners, and your album had just been nominated for a grammy, though you had no intention of going. It’s not that you were scared or shy, you were just entirely uninterested in going out in public as a ‘public figure’. It stressed you out, having people know who you are in such detail, so you just kept to yourself. You had no public social media accounts, you didn’t allow your label to post about you unless it was about the music, and you only let Paul or Nell drag you out in public for one of their events. You liked it that way, it was comfortable. 

“I’m going to go say hi to some people, you just wait here, yeah?” Paul explained as you two entered the theatre. It was huge, and every celebrity or influencer in the world must’ve been there. You nodded as he walked off and allowed yourself to fade into the background, people-watching as time passed. You noticed the beautiful architecture of the building, the way the celebrities around you mingled, the way-

“Hello.”

You whipped your head around, startled, only to be met with a face you knew quite well. “Jesus, Charles, you scared me,” you chuckled. He blushed slightly as you turned around properly to greet him. “Hi.”

“How are you?” he asked, joining you in your secluded corner. 

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” 

“I am very good,” he smiled, showing off his dimples. “I thought you didn’t like events.”

“I don’t, Paul just asked me to come,” you explained. “My mam would’ve killed me if I didn’t go, so here I am.” 

He nodded, understanding. “I tried to find you online, but… you are not a fan of that either?”

You chuckled. “No, not really. Sorry.” 

He shook his head. “No, it is ok. I just… wanted to talk more. You are very interesting to me,” he smiled. 

“Well, thank you for the glowing review,” you chuckled. “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”

“I am enjoying it a lot more with you here,” he smiled. “But yes, I only watched the first one a few days ago and I thought it was very good, so I am excited to see how this one compares.”

“You’re sure a charmer,” you chuckled. “I hope you enjoy the film. Where are you sitting?”

“Beside Carlos?” he shrugged, an awkward smile on his face. “Carlos knows, but I don’t know where Carlos is.”

You laughed. “Are you always this disorganised?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” he winked at you and the lights started going down, you just offered him to sit next to you, hoping that Nell wouldn’t mind. 

You two sat together, enjoying the movie as the night went on, and after you found yourselves at the bar, still chatting. He walked off to find Carlos at one point, looking back with a smile as he waved, promising to come back soon. 

“When are you going to realise he’s trying to flirt with you?” Paul laughed. Your face was bright red and your jaw dropped. 

You gently (roughly) hit his chest and scoffed. “Shut the fuck up. He is not.” 

Paul laughed. “He’s totally into you! Come on, go out with him, please! I want free tickets to Grand Prixs!” 

You rolled your eyes as he giggled, and then startled when you bumped straight back into Charles. “Fuck, sorry-” you started apologising but he just shook his head. 

“All good,” he smiled. 

Paul silently slipped away with a wink, and you were faced with Charles, once again. 

“Hi,” you breathed out. 

“Hi,” he chuckled, his dimples on full show. “He was right, you know.” 

“About what?” you questioned. 

“I am flirting with you-or, at least trying to,” he blushed slightly. 

“Oh,” you nodded, unsure what to do in a situation where someone was as brazen and blunt. “Right.”

He laughed. “Can I take you out sometime?”

You stared at him, total deer in headlights, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah, sounds grand. Thank you.”

You internally smacked yourself in the face for that. But he just laughed, unfazed by your awkward demeanour. 

“Great!” he smiled bashfully. “When are you free?”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[dreamscapeee222]

You're Short

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi:

She lives to tease you about your height.“Hey, short stuff! Need me to grab that for ya?” she’d say, already reaching for the top shelf.

Ruffles your hair like you’re a kid—infuriating, but she does it with such a cheeky grin you can’t stay mad.

Sometimes picks you up without warning and twirls you just to prove she can.

Jinx:

“What’s the weather like down there, shrimp?” followed by her breaking into cackles.

Constantly exaggerates the height difference, even if she’s only taller by a smidge.

Draws ridiculous doodles of you as a chibi, making herself look like a giant.

Calls you her “mini partner-in-crime,” but if anyone else teases you? She’s ready to throw hands.

Caitlyn:

The queen of subtle shade: “Oh, darling, you’re just so… compact. It’s adorable, really.”

Absolutely uses your height to her advantage in sparring practice—she’ll duck under your swings and smirk.

But she’s also the first to crouch down and look you in the eye when things get serious, speaking to you with gentle understanding.

Secretly finds your height endearing and won’t admit it.

Ekko:

“Dang, how’d you even see me from all the way down there?”

Loves leaning on you like a human armrest. Bonus points if it makes you huff and glare at him.

When he catches you struggling to reach something, he’ll dramatically swoop in with, “The hero saves the day again!”

But he’d never make you feel bad—he thinks your size just makes you you.

Jayce:

"Hey, do they even let people your size into Hextech labs?” Cue his loud, goofy laugh.

Jokes about needing to install a step stool for you at his workstation.

Still, he’ll go out of his way to lift you up—physically and emotionally—if you need it.

Will carry you around piggyback-style, saying it’s “for efficiency” but mostly just enjoys seeing you laugh.

Viktor:

Rarely teases, but when he does, it’s with surgical precision. “Your size must make navigating crowded streets quite efficient.”

Will subtly adjust things in his lab to make them more accessible for you without a word.

Finds it amusing when you get frustrated about his taller stature. “If it helps, I could crouch?”

If anyone else pokes fun, his sharp wit shuts them down in seconds.

Mel:

The epitome of class, she’d never outright mock you—but her smirk says it all.

“Your height only enhances your charm. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, darling.”

Teasingly rests her elbow on your shoulder, pretending not to notice your glare.

Compliments you often, balancing out the playful jabs with genuine affection.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise ch. 2

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole, again

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

prev

when nathan got out of the car, you realized that this was actually the second time today that you had forgotten about him, too busy talking with john to remember your literal boyfriend a couple of feet away.

“this is the place?” nathan asked incredulously, “looks kind of busted up.”

you stiffened at his rudeness and were about to apologize when you heard john laugh, “yeah, this is the place, i keep telling them it could do with a paint job.”

you all walked over to the open garage doors and john yelled out, “soap, ghost, get your asses out here. you have customers.”

you heard a dull thunk, a grunt of pain and then looked down to the ground to see a man with a mohawk roll out from underneath a car. he rubbed his head to soothe the angry red spot now forming on his forehead but there was still a lopsided grin on his face and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“cap’n, bringin’ us guests? you shouldnae ‘ave” he looked over at you and nathan, his grin growing a bit wider when he spotted you. “och, and who’s the lass?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at john, who looked sternly at him, “soap, behave.”

soap just shrugged making john sigh, but he continued, “found her and her boyfriend on the side of the road, her car’s dead, told them you could fix it. oh, and that you’d give them a friends and family discount.”

he shook his head and you worried that he wouldn’t be willing to do the job, or that this apparent kinship to john didn’t extend to people he found on the side of the road. then he said, “wouldnae be right, makin’ a bonnie lass pay a cent.”

“johnny, you can’t give free repairs to every pretty girl that comes in, we’d go out of business,” said a man as he walked into the garage, wiping his hands with an oily cloth.

“simon, finally joining us, then?” john said. “had to order some parts,” simon shrugged. simon was huge, big muscles, even taller than john, he had close-cropped blonde hair and he wore a black surgical mask but it didn’t stop him from leaning over to kiss johnny on the head through the material. out of the corner of your eye, you saw nathan cringe slightly at this action, but maybe he just didn’t like pda, he had mentioned something a while ago about it grossing him out.

simon’s words broke you out of your thoughts and you turned back to him, he had asked something about if this had been a reoccurring issue.

“oh, no, this is the first time it’s done anything like this. sure, it’s not the best car, but it’s never up and gave up before.”

simon scratched his chin and nodded as you spoke, “you mind if i take a look then?” you shook your head, “go ahead,” and you handed him your keys.

“actually, i know some stuff about cars, think i could take a look with you?” nathan spoke up, making you raise an eyebrow.

“since when?” you said, making both johns laugh, and it even got a small chuckle out of simon.

nathan’s face went red, “i- i know plenty about cars, you don’t know everything i do.”

“come on then, maybe you can do my job for me” simon said, walking over and practically scruffing nathan, leading him towards your car.

“so you two were in the force with john?” i asked. the three of you had settled in the air-conditioned office of the repair shop and johnny had made you tea, despite your insistence on it being unnecessary.

“aye. me, lt, and cap’n were all on the same task force. until i almost got murked, that is.” soap emphasized this by pointing to the giant star-shaped scar that marked the side of his shaved head.

“lt retired then too, had to take care of my sorry ass for a long while. then cap’n retired too, moved here-“ “yeah, and you two followed me here, so you could keep being pains in my ass” john grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“he really does love us, ye ken?” johnny stage whispered to you. john just shook his head, his smile growing.

“so, that just leaves one o’ us still in the force, our boy gaz. he’s a lieutenant now, ugh, they grow up so fast” johnny wiped away a fake tear.

“he still visits us old folk from time to time,” john said to you which made soap practically squawk in protest.

“awa' an bile yer heid, i’m a spring chicken compared to you two old heads” he pointed at john and then outside the window where simon stood with nathan at the car, the latter looking very emasculated.

“john calls you soap, was that your nickname?” you asked, suddenly curious.

johnny grinned in response, his annoyance fading away, “aye, it’s an inside joke between us. sorry lass, i couldn’t tell you even under threat of torture.”

“hm, alright, well, do you all have nicknames? unless you’re not allowed to tell me that either” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“och, ye found yourself a feisty bird, price,” soap laughed as he looked over at john.

“she’s not mine, remember?” he looked pointedly at johnny.

“aye, i do now. she’s with that weird looking fellow?” johnny said with such seriousness that it made you burst out into laughter, even if it was making fun of your boyfriend.

“oh god, i shouldn’t be laughing, that is so mean” you said between giggles which made soap smirk,

“he could do with being knocked down a peg or two. the bell above the door rung as nathan stepped inside, quickly followed by simon, “speaking of” soap murmured, his face shifting into a scowl.

“bad news, babe, he said it would take at least three days to fix the problem since we’d have to order a part from somewhere else,” nathan grumbled.

your face fell, “oh no, but what about the dinner with your parents?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know, i’m gonna have to call them or something.” you bit your lip, “right, okay. ugh, i’m sorry, i know you were looking forward to it.” “i knew we should’ve taken my car” he practically spat out, and you just barely stopped yourself from reminding him he insisted on taking your car.

“you could take my truck?” john offered and your gaze softened as you looked over at him, “that’s really nice of you-“ “we are not taking that thing to my parents’, it’s probably worse off than her car and we’ll be back to square one. let’s find a hotel or something and stay there until we figure something out.”

nathan apparently didn’t notice the cutting glares that both simon and johnny were giving him, not liking that someone was disrespecting their captain.

“you’re shit out of luck then, not gonna find a hotel anywhere around here” simon said, his voice had gotten lower, if that was possible, almost a growl. john looked between the two men, something in his eyes somehow conveying for them to back down because they settled slightly.

“you two can stay at my place until the car is fixed,” john turned to face nathan, “if that isn’t going to be a problem?” nathan glanced between the three men, who all stared patiently at him, almost like they were stalking their prey and waiting for the moment to strike.

“that would be fine” he said after a moment’s consideration, making john smile, his angry countenance fading away like clouds passing in front of the sun.

simon and johnny decided to close up shop early and drive with us to john’s house, figuring they could stay for dinner as well. plus, someone needed to drive nathan, otherwise he’d be stuck in the bed of the truck with all the other things simon had unloaded from your car. however, nathan did insist that you rode with him this time, him sitting in the front of simon’s car, you in the backseat and simon driving.

“so, what was your nickname on the force?” you broke the silence.

he eyed you through the rear view mirror, raising an eyebrow, “who said i had one?”

you fidgeted with your hands, worried you’d upset him, “well, i guess i shouldn’t have assumed but since johnny had one, i thought you all would.”

he just laughed, “sorry, love, just messing with you. i did have one, callsign was ghost.”

“ghost? hell kind of name is that?” nathan asked from the passenger seat.

“means you’d never see me coming” simon growled out, making nathan flinch slightly.

he laughed nervously, “that’s.. that’s a joke right?” simon just glanced at him, eyeing him up and down, and then turning back to the road. nathan didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.

when simon turned onto john’s property, your mouth practically hung open. it was beautiful, like out of a story book. a two story english farm house with aged bricks, half engulfed by vines and surrounded by lush gardens. simon chuckled and you realized in an embarrassing moment that he was laughing at you and your dazed, open expression.

quickly, you shut your mouth with your hand and cleared your throat, “it’s, um, it’s a beautiful place, is all.” you stepped out of the car, after simon opened the door for you (who knew he was such a gentleman) and watched as john did the same.

“it’s gorgeous” you remarked to him, fairly certain you still had a starry-eyed look to your face.

he just shrugged, “could do with some work, for sure” but even through the dismissive comment, you could tell he was proud of his home.

turning back, you saw nathan, sour-faced. you let out a small sigh, ‘can’t wait to find out what that’s about,’ you thought, grimly.

“i’ll get yer bags for ye” johnny said, an impish grin on his face, making you wonder if he was going to go snooping in your stuff but you just thanked him and watched as he disappeared into the house.

“i’ll go make sure he behaves” simon said gruffly, following after him. you did notice that johnny had specifically only grabbed your bags, leaving nathan to contend with his own, and in the deepest part of your mind, that made you just a little happy. you shook that thought away, ‘no, that’s your boyfriend, do not laugh at him.’

he pushed past you, grumbling something about these men all being assholes, pausing every so often to shift the bags in his grip.

“think he needs help?” john asked, startling you slightly. you didn’t even notice him walking up even though he was standing right next to you.

“oh! uh, maybe, but he’ll be fine. he can handle it” you said, and then flushed slightly, “i’m sorry, that was mean.”

john just chuckled, “sweetheart, i don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

that made you flush even more, hiding your face by turning your head slightly, “i wouldn’t say that, exactly, but thank you.”

you froze slightly when he put his hand on your waist, “ready to go inside? or you gonna keep staring at the outside for a couple more hours.”

“right, yeah, let’s go in, sorry.” you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he used his arm behind your back to guide you towards the house. christ, this was looking to be a long day.

a/n: ok yay!!! pt. 2!! haven’t written this much in a long time ngl 😭 yet again, no beta reader, so this is very much unedited, sorry. really wish i could’ve put gaz in this but it didn’t really make sense that he would retire as well :/ but maybe he’ll make an appearance later!! i’ll think of smth..

tag list: @the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) intoxicated ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 방찬 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chan comes home drunk with only one thing on his mindヾ

boyfriend!chan・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ sex under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can you make one of Bangchan? please, he is drunk and horny after a party and he is obsessed with getting her pregnant ?

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i loved writing this idk why i hope you like it <3

looking at the clock it was way past midnight when you heard the door open. “baby!” you heard your boyfriends slurred voice. “baby where are you!” you shook your head — shrieking when he came bursting through the door. “baby!” he yelled out. “hi baby!” you laughed at how drunk he was. “hi chan.”

“hi baby.” he smiled, face flushed as he stumbled over his own feet. “not that drunk i swear.” he said, but his actions said otherwise. “i missed you so much.” he kicked his shoes off; unbuckling his pants. “wished you would’ve came out tonight.” taking his shirt off, tossing it. “it was fun.” he clumsily climbed into bed, falling flat on top of you. “bang christopher chan!” you yelled, slapping his bare back. “get off you are heavy.”

“why.” he whined , wrapping his arms around you. “why are you being so mean?” his face pressed against your stomach. “i love you so much and you’re being so mean.” his eyes closed, you shook your head, thinking he was going to fall asleep. “chan let’s lay down now.” you tapped his cheek. “come on baby.”

it was silent; you thought he had actually fallen asleep — that was until you felt his hands lifting up your shirt. “channie what are you doing?” he hummed. “just wanna feel my girl.” he rubbed all along your waist. “you smell nice.” you chuckled. “it’s your body wash.” you ran your fingers through his hair. “i know, but im talking about your natural scent, smell so sweet.” he kissed your bare stomach. “ch-chan.” you warned.

“what?” he said softly, slurring his words. “let’s lay down.” you said, trying to get him to sleep, even though he was slowly turning you on. “o-okay.” he said, before sitting up, quickly pulling you down, your head hitting the pillow. “let’s lay down.” he kissed your neck. “ch-chan you’re intoxicated, we’re not having sex tonight.” he whined against your ear. “you’re not taking advantage of me , i know you feel how much i want you right now.” he took your hand, running it down his abs, down past his waist. “see.” he groaned, placing it on his cock.

“ye-yeah but you’re still not in your right mind.” you didn’t want to egg him on, but he wasn’t having it. “im well in my right mind to know how much i want to put a baby right here.” he pointed to your stomach. “wanna fuck you so full that it has no choice but to stick.” the air was too thick, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. “let me finally put a baby in you.” his hand working into your panties. “chris.” you moaned. “see you’re so wet, you want this, you want to be fucked full of my babies.” he groaned. “let me do that.” his fingers slipped into your dripping cunt. “gonna get you pregnant tonight.”

chan was insatiable when he was sober, but it was nothing compared to when he was drunk. you were on your 4th orgasm, chan on his second; the clock beside you was almost at 2:30 am, but he didn’t plan on stopping — determined to have you swollen with his kid by the end of the night. “fu-fuck baby.” he groaned, his hips snapping against yours. “fuck i love this sweet pussy so much.” he groaned, his face flushed. “chan.” you moaned out. “so fucking tight , taking my fat cock like the good girl you are.”

he was pinning you to the bed as he plowed into you. the squelching noises from your previous orgasms filling up the room. “fuck you hear that baby -fuck- you pretty pussy is talking to me.” he huffed. “she wants to be bred so bad , she crying for my cock.” his necklace dangling in front of you. “you wanna cum for me?” you nodded dumbly, you were now intoxicated but not like alcohol, but his cock, you sobbed out. “so bad.”

“cum for me.” he whispered in your ear. “fuck chan!” you screamed out, you sweet juices spraying all over his abdomen. “ye-yes fuck baby.” he groaned. “fuck cum all over me.” he continued you to fuck you. “that’s it -fuck- fuck me im gonna cum again.” he moaned, cock twitching as his filled you up for the third time that night. “fuck im gonna breed you , fill you with my seed, give you a pretty baby.” he groaned. “fuck i love you so much.”

feeling his warm cum pouring inside you, he sighed falling against you, your bodies sticking together. “chan , channie get up we have to clean ourselves.” you could feel his heart beating as he softly snored on top of you. you ran your fingers through his sweaty wet hair. “told you , you were tired.” you kissed the top of his head. “you big goof, you know you can’t hold your alcohol.” he wrapped his arms around you , holding you close. “sleep now.” you chuckled. “fine.” you said, finally drifting off to sleep.

almost a week later the two of you were standing over the sink in your bathroom , a positive pregnancy test sitting right in front of you.

©️LUVYENI

[aakeysmash]

a favour from college!sukuna for teaching yuuji about female private parts? deal!

college!sukuna masterlist

Your house keys dingle from your pointer finger while you get your shoes off on your front door porch.

“Hello, I’m ho- what are you doing?” You stop walking, seeing a distraught Sukuna.

“The time has come,” he tells you gravely, not looking up. His hair is a mess and his eye bags are darker than usual.

“What time?” You ask confused, pit patting toward the kitchen to make yourself a hot chocolate. You ponder for a moment with the cabinet doors open, thinking about whether to make him one too or not, finally shrugging and deciding on picking up his cup.

“You know. That time. Yuuji. At school,” he deadpans, breathing hard between words.

“What are you even talking about?” You respond, still not grabbing the concept, swirling a spoon in both cups. You just get a grunt that sounds awfully close to a whine from Sukuna. That’s such odd behaviour from him.

“Are you going to faint? Do you have a fever?” You say, now worried, reaching his still crouching form. You gently lift his face with one hand, putting the other one on his forehead. The way he lets you do it, compliantly and so naturally, worries you even more. He just stares at you, a little frown between his eyebrows, eyes a little bit lucid and he almost looks… he almost looks cute.

“You’re alright, big guy,” you softly say, booping his nose, getting your hands off of his face and hurrying back to your hot chocolate cups. He is definitely in a moment, because usually he would've bitten your whole finger off. He wrinkles his nose, scowling, before apparently realizing something and hastily getting up. He grabs your wrist and spins you around, but the strength he does it with whips you around so suddenly that you bump into his chest quite hard.

“What?!”

“You do it,” he tells you, crazy eyes wide open. He puts his rough hands on both your shoulders, stabilizing you, keeping you close enough to be able to talk to you properly but not far enough you can get away.

“What the fuck do I have to do now?” You bark, trying to wriggle out of his hold, unsuccessfully.

“Teach Yuuji about your sex parts, I’ll teach him about mine,” he rushes out, pleading eyes turned on your face.

You gape up at him, stopping your movements, and you stay like that for what feels like an eternity. You raise an eyebrow, as if asking him if he’s serious, but his expression doesn’t change. A snort comes out of your throat.

“You mean to tell me you’re fussing about having to talk about vaginas?” You ask him, now full on laughing in his face. He pushes you a bit, releasing you and grumbling.

“I’m not doing it,” he tells you, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know where to start! He came home asking me where the fuck the urethra is in females and I crashed out,” he shakes his head, distraught, your laugh still ringing in his ears.

“Do you even know the answer to that?” You smirk, turning around to put some whipped cream on your hot chocolate, and giving him his cup (no whipped cream: it's "too unhealthy" for him).

“Want me to point it out on your pussy, baby?” He scoffs, taking one big gulp of his drink.

You gasp, punching him in the stomach. He doesn’t budge and his smirk widens.

“You’re so crude. That’s it, I’m not doing it,” you tell him, walking past him, trying to contain your laugh about how his face drops immediately.

“No, wait- baby, you know I was joking,” he complains, following you toward the couch. Like a lost kitten following its owner when it hears the sound of croquettes.

“Why can’t you do it yourself anyway?” You chuckle. “Are you afraid of vaginas?”

“I wouldn’t be afraid of yours, that’s for sure,” he says, alluring, giving you a once over while you sit. He licks up a drop of chocolate left on his lower lip.

You scoff again. "Boo, bitch."

He tries a different approach. “You’re smarter than me on the subject, you’d be better than me anyway,” The act of complimenting someone is taking a toll on him. He grits his teeth.

“What am I getting out of this?” You grin, getting whipped cream on your nose and crossing your legs.

“Whatever you want, baby. Please, come on,” he crouches in front of you. “I even said please, see? You complained about it last week and I listened,” he croaks, clicking his tongue on his palate. Being nice is harder than he thought. If he has to keep it up he’s going to have a heart attack, he thinks.

“Yeah, because you want something out of it. It doesn’t count,” you sigh, closing your eyes. He shrugs. “But I’m in. I’m helping Yuuji on the big bad wolf his brother is scared of and you’re doing me a favor. Deal?”

“I’ll always deal with you, baby,” he winks. He leans over you, swiping the tip of your nose with his thumb, proceeding then to put his finger in his mouth.

“Stop with the double entendres!”

"Why don't you do this color?" asks Yuuji, next to you. There are 3 different shades of pink nail polish in front of you, and you've been thinking of which one to use on your nails for the past 10 minutes.

"I don't know, isn't it a little bit too pink-brownish?" you respond, tilting your head, pondering.

"Then this one. It matches my hair, so we could be matching!" the little kid says excitedly. Then he turns to look at you properly, the tip of his ears turning a deep red. "Only if you want, though," he continues, shily, averting your gaze after uttering the words.

Your heart squeezes painfully. "Of course I want to, Yuuji. I think that's the prettiest color out of the three," you say, ruffling his hair sweetily.

"Can you not stink the whole fucking place?" grumbles Sukuna entering the living room, grimace present on his face, barely nodding at Yuuji's wave.

"It's just a bit of nail polish, Itadori," you roll your eyes.

"I don't even know why you bother with that," he scoffs, going toward the couch, grabbing the tv remote.

"Because I'm pretty and I'm not a hater like someone else in this room," you throw back, scowling. He stays silent. "What, you don't think I'm pretty?" you ask, baffled. Sukuna side-eyes you, raising one eyebrow, before turning his gaze back to the tv.

"I think you're the prettiest," answers Yuuji in his brother's place, smiling.

"I can always count on you, Yuu," you coo, hugging him tight, and he chuckles, happy. Sukuna makes a weird sound, like he's actually disgusted about the topic.

"You know what? You're going to get some nail polish too," you say, pointing an accusatory finger in the oldest direction.

"Hell no," he immediately answers, glaring your way.

"Uhm, hell yes," you sneer.

"I said no, woman."

A light bulb figuratively pops up next to your face, and you grin, getting up and around the table to face him better. "Matter of fact, Sukuna, you owe me, so you'll do what I say."

He snaps his head toward you. "You wouldn't dare."

"Get your ass over here, big boy, you're getting your nails painted," you sing-song, doing a come here motion with your index finger. You see his jaw tick incredibly hard from where you stand, and he begrudgingly reaches you with his fists clenched.

"I hate you, bitch," he seethes when he's right in front of you.

"Can I get it too?!" screams Yuuji, bouncing up and down.

"Done," you say, delicately putting Sukuna's left hand on the table. After arguing for 15 minutes on the color, he only agreed to let you paint his nails black. If it was for you, he'd have at least 5 different colors on them. He hums.

"It's not that bad, is it?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. "I think I did a pretty good job. Black fits your hands really well," you ramble on, applying hand cream on his rough finger pads. Actually fucking training will do that to you, he barked when you complained about his callouses a few minutes ago.

"Stop acting like I'm one of your girls," sighs your roommate, shaking his pink roots.

"You're my main girl, Sukuna," you smirk, sending him a flying kiss.

He gags. "Never say that shit again or I'm pulling out your vocal chords with my new freshly done nails," he says, mocking you in the last part of the sentence, tilting his voice incredibly high.

"Ohhh. You actually like them, huh," you respond, seeing through his bluff, smiling with your full teeth on display. He scoffs, looking over at his now black nails. He has to admit, you did your thing with them.

"Like is a strong word."

"So, you... love them?"

"Shut up."

[kateschi]

get them fangirls away!

synopsis: katsuki’s greatest battle isn’t on the field—it’s surviving relentless fangirls. good thing he has you to shield him

pairing: secondyear!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

katsuki doesn’t run away from fights. he’s a fighter—loud, explosive, and always ready for a challenge.

but this?

this is different. this is a nightmare of his own making, and no amount of explosions is going to fix it.

“dynamight-senpai!” the shrill voices echo down the hallway like a siren’s call, and katsuki’s eye twitches.

his palms spark with irritation as he quickens his pace, trying to lose them in the maze of ua corridors.

but they’re relentless, chasing after him like their lives depend on it. why the hell don’t these brats know when to quit?

“dynamight-senpai! wait for us!”

he clenches his jaw. they’re like a pack of wolves, except these wolves ask for autographs and selfies instead of sinking their teeth in. still, they’re dangerous.

his eyes dart around, scanning the hallway for any possible escape route, when he spots you up ahead.

you’re leaning casually against your locker, completely unaware of the chaos barrelling toward you.

a plan clicks into place immediately.

he pushes off the ground, sprinting towards you with quick, desperate steps.

the frantic pounding of his footsteps catches your attention just as he skids to a stop behind you, ducking down to use you as a human shield.

“katsuki—what the hell are you doing?” you ask, eyes wide with confusion as you turn to face him.

“fangirls!” he hisses, crouching even lower behind you, his breath slightly ragged. his red eyes flicker toward the hallway entrance where the fangirls are rounding the corner, their faces lighting up the moment they spot him.

before you can ask any more questions, the first-years come to a screeching halt in front of you, out of breath but still buzzing with excitement.

they don’t even seem to notice you, their eyes locked onto katsuki who is half-hidden behind you like a kid caught in trouble.

“dynamight-senpai!” the leader squeals, pushing her way to the front of the group. “we’ve been looking all over for you!”

katsuki grits his teeth and curses under his breath, barely peeking over your shoulder. his hand grips your shoulder a little tighter, holding onto you for dear life.

“go away,” he growls, but his usual explosive tone is muffled by your presence, sounding more irritated than intimidating.

the fangirls, however, are undeterred. in fact, they seem even more excited by the sight of their idol so close—and apparently, within reach.

“we just want a picture, dynamight-senpai!” one of them pleads, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “just one, please?”

“no,” he snaps, but it’s lacking the usual bite. his eyes dart to yours, desperation flashing across his face for a split second. “damn it, why won’t they leave?”

you bite back a laugh. the mighty katsuki, hiding behind his girlfriend from a group of over-eager first-years. this is too good.

taking a step forward, you square your shoulders and block katsuki from view even more. “I think you heard him. he said no.”

the leader of the fangirls blinks, her enthusiasm faltering just a bit as she finally acknowledges your presence. “wait... are you...?”

you raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a knowing smirk. “yeah, I’m his girlfriend.”

the words hang in the air for a moment, and you can practically see the wave of shock that ripples through the group.

the girls exchange stunned looks, their expressions ranging from disbelief to awe.

“dynamight-senpai has a girlfriend?!” one of them whispers, her eyes going wide.

katsuki smirks as he straightens up a little behind you. “yeah, you heard her. my girlfriend. and if you don’t back off, she’ll beat your asses into the ground.”

you glance back at him, giving him a pointed look. “seriously? that’s your plan?”

“damn right it is,” he mutters, crossing his arms as if he’s made the smartest move ever. “they’re annoyin’ the hell outta me. figured I’d let you handle it.”

one of the girls in the back gasps, clutching her hands to her chest.

“wait, we didn’t mean to upset him! we’re just...we’re such big fans of dynamight-senpai! he’s so amazing!”

“yeah!” another chimes in, her eyes wide and pleading. “we didn’t mean any harm!”

you sigh, looking them over. they’re not bad kids—just... overly enthusiastic.

but katsuki is your boyfriend, and while you’re used to his temper, you’re not about to let anyone, even a group of fangirls, mess with him.

“look, I get it,” you say, your tone softening slightly, though you still keep it firm.

“you’re excited and all, but katsuki isn’t some kind of photo op. he’s just trying to get through his day. how about you give him some space?”

the leader looks embarrassed now, her earlier excitement faltering. “we didn’t mean to bother him...”

katsuki huffs from behind you. “you did.”

you glance at him over your shoulder, shaking your head slightly. “so helpful.”

he grumbles under his breath but stays quiet, letting you handle it. you turn back to the girls, offering them a small smile. “just...be respectful, okay?”

the leader nods quickly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “y-yeah, we’ll leave him alone. sorry for bothering you, dynamight-senpai and h/n-senpai.”

katsuki grunts, obviously relieved they’re finally getting the hint. the group lingers for a moment longer before they start shuffling away down the hall, their chatter much quieter now.

once they are gone, you turn to katsuki, raising an eyebrow. “so... hiding behind your girlfriend now? that’s a new one.”

he scowls, though the faint blush creeping up his neck was hard to miss. “shut up. I wasn’t hiding.”

you can’t help but laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “sure, ‘cause using me as a shield isn’t hiding.”

“tch. you handled it, didn’t you?” he shoves his hands into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “better than blowin’ ‘em up.”

you smile, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “you’re lucky I’ve got your back.”

he grumbles something under his breath, clearly too stubborn to admit you were right, but he takes his hand out of his pocket to intertwine your fingers together.

of course, that isn’t without a side-eye when you grin.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[starkeyslibrary]

FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 3

pairing: you x drew starkey

The night Drew came back from his so-called “night out with the boys”, the tension was thick in the apartment. The sound of the front door creaking open felt like a bomb going off. You had been sitting on the couch for the last hour, alternatives between staring at your phone and looking out the window, hoping that something – anything – would make the ache in your chest fade. But the pain only deepened, and as the door clicked closed behind him, your stomach churned in a mix for dread and anger.

Drew walked in, his usual confident stride slowing when he saw you sitting there. There was a slight hesitation in his step, a quiet sign that he knew something was off. His eyes immediately darted to you, a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite read. But the moment he stepped further into the room, your frustration broke free.

You didn’t even give him a chance to greet you, the words spilling out before he could say a word. “You’re late,” you said, your voice flat but filled with an edge he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Drew stopped in his tracks, glancing at his watch. “I told you, it was just a night out with the guys. Nothing big.” He said, his tone light, almost too casual. But you saw right through it. His words didn’t feel genuine anymore. You had heard the excuses before, and they were getting old.

You stood up, not wanting to be so passive about it anymore. “A night out with the guys? Really? That’s what you’re going with?” The bitterness in your voice caught you off guard, but there was no going back now.

Drew looked taken aback by the sharpness in your voice. “What’s going on, y/n?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you saw those photos.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to contain the words that had been bubbling up inside for days. “Yeah, I saw the photos, Drew. You and Odessa. Out in public again. Walking around like everything is fine. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“No. Don’t you dare try to explain it away. I’m not stupid. I can see exactly what’s going on.” You could feel the anger rising in your chest, a mix of hurt and frustration that you couldn’t keep bottled up any longer. “You’re out with her, looking all cozy, like she’s the one you want. Not me. And I just … I don’t get it. You told me it was all fake, just for the cameras, but I can’t keep pretending that I believe you.”

Drew’s face hardened, and the disappointment in his eyes stung more than anything. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his cool, but you saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re making something out of nothing. It’s just part of the job, I swear. She’s just a co-star, and this is all for publicity. You know that. I thought you understood that.”

“Understand?” you laughed bitterly, but the sound came out more like a sob. “You think I understand? You think I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you with her while pretending like everything is fine? No, Drew. I can’t do that. I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t hurting me. That I’m not losing you, piece by piece.”

Drew stepped closer to you, his expression softening as if trying to reach you, but you were too far gone. Too far past the point of no return.

“I’m trying okay?” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was being honest, but it didn’t change anything. “I’m trying to make this work, but this whole thing is a mess. I never wanted it to be like this.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of his words like a slap across your face. “Make it work? How do you expect me to trust you when I see you out there with her, smiling like nothing’s wrong? How do you expect me to keep believing you when I know that every word you’ve said about us was just...  just a lie?”

Drew’s face darkened at your accusation, his voice rising as the frustration that had been simmering inside him for days boiled over. “I’m not lying to you, Y/N! I never wanted this to happen either, but this is the way things are right now. I’m doing what I have to do, for both of us.”

“For both of us?” you scoffed, the tears that had been building in your eyes finally breaking free. “This is for you, Drew. It’s always been for you. For your career, for your image. And I’m just supposed to sit here and be okay with it? You’re asking me to pretend like I’m okay with being second to her, to everything you’re doing for the cameras. You know what, Drew? I can’t do that anymore. I’m done pretending.”

There was a long, tense silence between you, both of you staring at each other as if trying to make sense of the chaos you had created. Drew ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained but you were beyond caring. You had tried so hard to hold on, to believe him and in what you had, but every day felt like a betrayal.

You stepped back, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t trust you anymore, Drew. Not after everything. You’ve lied to me over and over, and I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’m not going to keep living in this lie, this lie that both of you have created for the world.”

Drew looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just closed his eyes, the weight of your words crashing over him. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and for the first time, you realized he was just as lost as you were. But that didn’t change the fact it was too late.

Without another word, you grabbed your jacket, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that apartment with him. Not like this. You needed space, you needed to breathe.

You walked the streets aimlessly, tears still wet on your cheeks as the cold air bit at your skin. Every step felt like a weight, each one dragging you further from the man you thought you knew. The city lights flickered in the distance, but they did nothing to brighten the darkness in your heart.

You didn’t even know how far you had walked until you found yourself standing in front of a quiet park by the water. The silence felt both comforting and unbearable, as if the world around you had completely disappeared. You collapsed onto a bench, hugging your arms to your chest to stave off the cold, but it did little to ease the storm inside of you.

The moments from earlier replayed in your mind – the fight, Drew’s words, your own pain – and all you could do was sit there and feel the weight of it all.

That’s when the flash of camera lights caught your attention.

At first, you didn’t react, too numb to care about the photographers who had followed you. But then, the flashes intensified. You wiped your face quickly, but it didn’t stop them. The tears you had tried to hide were now on full display, and you felt like your privacy, your pain was being exposed to the world.

“Y/N! Over here! A little smile for us!” A photographer called out, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the strength to smile, not when everything felt so broken.

Your heart thudded in your chest as more flashes went off, capturing the raw emotion on your face – the hurt, the betrayal, the confusion. You could hear their voices, the jarring sound of camera clicks, as they shouted for you to look at the camera. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to perform for them. Not anymore.

You turned away, trying to escape their prying eyes, but you knew it was futile. The pictures will be everywhere tomorrow. The world would see you in this vulnerable state, and it felt like another punch to the gut.

You couldn’t stop the tears now. You couldn’t stop the feeling of being exposed, of being broke, of being so utterly alone in a world that seemed to move on without you.

A/N: please don’t hate me LOL😭

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