#but I can't make it better so I'm just setting it free in the wild now

[juukai]

this is extremely late but I did this for day 4: bells

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere psychopath boyfriend x male reader. You discover that your boyfriend killed people and try to leave the forest where he lived, but you end up being caught by him. He decides to punish you through the bed with rough sex and overstimulation

I fw this

Yandere Psychopath bf x Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, murder, noncon

Your boyfriend has always been...strange, but you never expected this. You thought he just liked nature, and that was why he lived in a cabin in the woods. You thought he liked the peace, like you did. That he just enjoyed growing his garden and living practically entirely off the grid. The seclusion...that was a better way to put it.

You couldn't look at him the same since you saw it. Since you saw him killing someone in cold blood. He had the nerve to act so lovingly to you when he did something like that.

You couldn't get it out of your mind. The way that poor man's blood covered him, the pool of red standing the grass and seeping into the dirt. The way he chopped up his victim and stuffed the bits into a bag. The bag he used for his fertilizer.

You clearly weren't safe. You had to leave.

One night, while he was asleep, you snuck out and ran. You ran like your life depended on it. Because it did.

You didn't make it far. A trap. He had traps set up all over the place. A large net caught you, forcing you off the ground. You struggled to get out, but your adrenaline eventually wore off.

You didn't know how long it was until he came along, holding a bloody knife. "Aw, darling, were you trying to get out? I guess that means you know my nasty little secret, huh?"

He cut you out of the net, not giving you a second to even try running before he grabbed you by the scalp and dragged you back, kicking and screaming. "You should know you aren't allowed to run. I'm gonna have to punish you now."

Getting back to the cabin, he forced you upstairs and threw you on the bed. Before you could scramble to get away, he once again grabbed your scalp and forced you to kiss him, shoving his tongue down your throat.

His free hand, still holding the knife he had, cut your clothes off. He finally discarded the knife and started to roughly jerk you off.

He only broke the kiss when you were practically suffocating. "You think you can run away from me, huh? Think you can just leave?" He roughly bit into your shoulder, licking up the blood he drew. "No, I don't think so. You're mine. All fucking mine."

Letting go of your head, he shoved two of his fingers down your throat. "Suck."

When he was satisfied, or tired of it, he yanked out his fingers, only to suddenly shove them deep inside your hole. He stretched you wide, getting your insides nice and wet before suddenly replacing his fingers with his cock.

He didn't waste a second to start pounding into you like a wild beast. He bit you more, leaving bleeding marks all across your shoulders, neck, collarbone, and chest.

"Thought you could get away with trying to leave me, huh?" A harsh smack echoed through the room as he spanked you. "Think you're too good for me or something?" And another. "You're mine." Another. "And I'm going to fuck it into you until you can't even walk out of this room."

He continued to thrust into you, hitting against that special spot harder and harder. He didn't stop, not for a second.

Even when you came, the first time of many that night, he only got rougher.

He didn't give a second of rest, and he wasn't going to. Not until he made you a moaning, sobbing, drooling mess begging for his forgiveness. Then he'd go back to the loving and gentle boyfriend you knew. But only once he was sure you understood not to leave him.

I feel like the end was a bit rushed tbh

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 🍒

Sometimes love doesn't make sense.

Tags/Warnings: Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook, Pastel!Reader, opposites attract, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, suggestive flirting, adult themes but no smut, consensual hand holding

Length: ~4k

There is no taglist for this fic.

Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──🍒── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Uhm-" you wonder, stepping inside the store to be greeted by the guy you know as Jimin.

"Hi, my friend has an appointment?" you say, and the artist stands up and walks closer. Your friend stays close to you, buzzing with the excitement of getting her first tattoo ever- too shy to say anything.

When it comes to that, you're a little ahead of her. As long as the person isn't intimidating, you're fine talking to them, asking for help or anything alike.

"Yeah, it was the dragon on her back, right?" and your friend nods. "I've got it all prepared already. Wanna come downstairs with me, I'll explain the rest of it there?" Jimin kindly says, taking her coat and leading her downstairs where you assume everyone works. "Oh, you can just wait in the back there, or stroll around town. It'll take a while." he says, and you nod, a bit unsure now after being left alone.

"Hm?" a voice chimes up, before he speaks again. "Oh, Thought I heard something." the guy comes into view, and suddenly you can't talk.

This is what you can't talk to.

Intimidating? Heavy boots and black clothes, silver chains and piercings and a fully inked sleeve including his hand present themselves to you, muscles free since he's only wearing a black sleeveless top that should be illegal for him to wear. His smile is the friendliest you've ever seen, reaching his eyes and his slightly wild hair just makes him look even better, sides buzzed down to mere millimeters left- you want to disappear from the earth and his memory forever.

Fuck. He's looking like every goth-girl's wet dream while you're dressed in a pastel colored dress and thick knee high socks to keep your feet warm in this cold weather. Great.

"You can sit here in the back with me, otherwise you'll catch a cold from all the cold air blowing in every time the door opens." he recommends, pointing to a couch in a corner that you assume is where they all spend their breaks. Awesome, he's a gentleman as well it seems, making it all even worse for you. "You want something to drink? I've got tea or coffee." he wonders, and you meekly press out a 'tea, please.', making him chuckle.

He probably thinks you're nothing more than a child, with the way you look so out of place.

You envy your friend in that department. She's got piercings, she knows cool friends, she has exciting stories to tell. Meanwhile you sit at home and knit sweaters and blankets, help out at the local animal shelter because you get to pet the cats and dogs all day, or work at the library where you aid tourists find the town's guide.

"Your friend was the tall girl, right?" he asks, coming in with two cups, one of which he sets down on front of you. "I'm Jungkook by the way." he introduces himself, smiling before he leans back in his seat. Of course he's interested in her, you think. She's exactly his type, though he looks quite a few years older than her.

Well- the least you can do is help her find a date.

"Ah, yeah, she's my friend. Best friend." you say, pulling the cup of tea closer. "Thank you, for the tea." you say politely, and he grins in front of you.

"No problem." he waves off.

"She's uh.. She works at a car-uh.. She does those paint jobs. Like, those complicated one's that look realistic and all that." you try and explain. "I.. Forgot what it's called though. But uhm.. You can ask her later maybe?" you say, and he shrugs, setting down his cup before he smirks impishly, tongue playing with his lip ring in a manner that you can only describe as illegal.

"I probably could do that-" he starts, before he tilts his head a little to the side, body leaning forward. "-but I'd rather get to know you a little more." he wonders, and you almost choke on your tea- but you're composing yourself. "Maybe I could start by asking if you've got a boyfriend?"

Well, so much for composing yourself.

Your wide eyes look at him scandalized, and he giggles at the sight of it. "I- uh, no, I mean no I don't have one, to be honest-" you laugh a bit nervously. "-guys don't.. I- most guys don't really look my way, you know. So I thought, you know, considering-" you motion up and down towards him, "-you'd be more interested in my friend." you ramble, and he just shakes his head, smiling.

"I mean, she seems nice- but, I don't know either." he shrugs. "Something about you- it's hard to explain."

You shift a little on the spot now, unsure what to do in a situation like this. Typically, you shut down guys quickly, scared of what's to come. But you also don't want to keep doing exactly that- not when you've got the chance of something right in front of you like that. For the first time, someone's actively interested in you. Someone who seems nice, that is.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, by the way." Jungkook suddenly rips out of your thoughts. He leans back again, giving you space, and it makes you feel a little deflated. Did you blow it already? Oh god you screwed it over, didn't you?

"No, you're not, don't worry." you say, looking down. "I just.. I'm not used to this. I'm usually always the wingman instead- or.. Wing-woman?" you think, and he laughs.

"Hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it." he says, still friendly. "So, I'm wondering- any tattoos? Piercings?" he wonders, and you nod- instantly making his eyes sparkle in interest. "Oh- can I ask what it is, or do you want to let me find out later?" he says, and you instantly turn red, making him laugh. "Sorry, sorry- I'll stop, promise." he waves off. "..for now."

You laugh at his antics, unable to keep a straight face by now. "You seem like you know your way around with girls." you say without thinking, before you hurriedly correct yourself. "I-I mean I don't mean that your like, a fuckboy or something or- maybe you are that's fine too! I don't judge but- oh god.." you put your head in your hand. "You know what? I'll just wait here for her, I'm so sorry." you mumble more or less.

But much to your surprise, he simply laughs, head thrown back for a second before he grins at you, front teeth slightly protruding, giving him a bunny smile.

"You're so cute, I swear." he says, shaking his head. "I- is it okay if I ask for your number?" he wonders, and you look at him for a good moment, squinting your eyes as if you test to see if he's serious.

"I.. Sure..?" you say, pulling out your phone with all the different charms attached. He grins and shakes his head amused, though clearly excited as you type in your number into his phone before calling yourself to make sure it's correct.

"So!" he grins. "Since your friend is gonna still be out of order for a good four hours downstairs," Jungkook stands up to hold out his hand. "You up for some boba for our first date?" he asks, looking down at you even though you're standing as well by now.

And you nod, walking next to him through the slight October fog outside in town, his hand warming up yours.

You don't even realize how.. easy it feels, right away. His hand holding yours is not demanding, giving you the option to let go at any point, but you don't mind holding it. It's warm, comfortable, and it also makes you wonder if that's something he enjoys. Did he date a lot already? He certainly looks like he got the choice, girls probably falling for him fairly easily.

Well.. you're already trusting him too. How ironic.

"Just tell me which one you want, I'll go order." he says later, holding out a hand in case you lose balance as you clean off the rain from your boots as to not bring it all into the small store. "I'll pay too by the way, no but's!" he grins, while you look up at him with a pleading look.

"No, I'll give you the money back for mine." you say.

"But then it's not a date!" he argues back, a whine in his voice as if to mock the way you just spoke to him. "then it's just- two people getting a drink at the same time."

"what's so bad about that?" you laugh, crossing your arms without thinking- an action he playfully copies, pushing out his chest, fabric of his jacket stretching over his biceps.

"That it's not a date!" he says, before laughing as he relaxes, talking more quietly now with a lower, more serious tone. "Alright, in all seriousness though, I'd still like to pay even if there's no date." he tells you.

"I- no, a date is fine, it can be a date.." you say. "I just don't want to.. Come off as a leech for taking your money if you end up not liking me-" you ramble, and he smiles warmly, holding your shoulders before his warm palms touch your cheeks for a second.

"You're overthinking too much." he giggles, before letting go of you. "right now, I like you very much. And even if we don't end up working out, I'm not that kind of guy to go around and talk shit about people." he shrugs.

You sigh at that, before pointing towards an item on the menu. "..can you- I don't like that much ice in mine.?" you say, and he nods, before walking towards the worker to order.

He's oddly okay with you, you've noticed.

Normally, people and especially guys get frustrated easily due to the fact that you've got trouble deciding things, or that you don't like ordering, or that you quickly feel bad because your brain thinks the worst about every single word that's said to you. But he seems nice enough, doesn't come off as annoyed or anything. Despite his way of talking and his outer appearance, Jungkook feels nice to have around.

You wonder how a guy like him can be single.

Or maybe he isnt? Maybe he's into the BDSM scene, a swinger, or in an open relationship, and he just want to offer you a threesome? He looks like he might be into that stuff, like a dominant guy that enjoys taking control over his partner in the bedroom. Does he tie people up? You've seen stuff like that before, and it's not something you'd be opposed to if he'd be the one to-

Wow, alright, exit was three miles ago.

"Everything alright?" he chuckles, snapping you out of your thoughts, amusing him as he notices the way you turn red. "Been staring at my ass? Can't blame you, honestly." he jokes, making you hit his shoulder playfully before you take your plastic cup from him. "Hey, this might sound super shady and you don't have to say yes-" he starts, stepping out the small store with you where it had started to snow again. "-but I've got my apartment a few minutes from here, and it's freezing cold, so-" he takes your hand and looks down at you. "-you wanna go to my place?"

You're nervous now, more than ever. Thoughts are entertaining, they're safe and most of all yours and not real, but the prospect of potentially going into an apartment you don't know, with a guy you don't know, is scary. What if he's actually a serial killer, or really into BDSM and you'll get involved in some shady fifty shades stuff-

"-you really don't have to say yes. We can just go back to the Tattoo shop and talk there, I don't mind." he reassures, and you still don't answer. "What's worrying you? Maybe I can help."

"I-" you start, unsure, and fingers already hurting from the cold cup as you both walk outside the small store, walking side by side. You enjoy this a bit more- without holding his hand, you feel safer having a discussion like that. "-you know, guys only take girls to their place for.. Stuff, and I'm not like that, but I also kind of want to be but at the same time it's scary-"

"Hey, no, I'm not out for blood if you mean that." he chuckles, holding out his arm to make sure you wait until a car has passed the road you're both trying to cross. "Like, I'm not gonna lie and say I've never had one-night-stands or quickies or whatever, but right now I'm interested in you, first and foremost." he explains, his rather blunt words causing an elderly lady to turn her head scandalized as she walks past. "Also, I'm into begging. I'll only fuck you if you ask nicely." he smirks down at you next to him, before laughing out loud at your wide eyes and red ears.

"I-" you struggle to form words. But you're also horribly cold. "Alright then. I mean not the fucking part, at least not right now maybe sometime in the fut- where was your apartment again?" you stutter, and he grins so hard his eyes almost close.

"You're so fucking cute, my god." he shakes his head, before taking your hand again. "It's right down this road." he simply tells you, before you both find yourself in front of an apartment building where he takes you upstairs to his door. "Ah, I didn't clean up, by the way. It's a bit chaotic." he sheepishly offers, before the door opens.

It's warm, inviting. Doesn't smell bad, and it's not as chaotic as he told you it would be, Jungkook walking inside before you walk around, inspecting the apartment.

"I've put your boots in my shower, in case you're wondering where they are." he says after emerging from his bathroom, opening a window a little to air out the apartment. "make yourself at home, don't be so stiff." he chuckles, smiling when you visibly relax.

He sits close to you on the couch, but keeps a respectful distance between the two of you. He watches as you inspect a hole in a blanket he's got on the couch, shrugging. "My friend has a dog. Small little shit tore a hole in there, but it's still good so I keep the blanket."

"It's an easy fix." you say. "If you take those two parts of the yarn and then those, you can just tie them together so it doesn't rip open any further." you explain, and he tilts his head a little.

"Oh? Do you knit?" he wonders, and you nod.

"I.. My hobbies are kind of lame. I knit, and I help at the shelter a little away from the town. Other than that, I just.. Kind of exist in my apartment." you tell him. "I work at a library near the main train station. So, I'm not really interesting." you say, while he shakes his head.

"Don't say that. I think that's all pretty cool." he reassures. "Sounds like you've made a cozy life for yourself. That's pretty impressive considering today's times." he says. "I've always been.. Unsatisfied. With almost everything." he shrugs, leaning back, socked feet resting on the edge of his couch you're both sitting on.

"How so?" you wonder, taking a sip from your drink, before putting it back onto the small table.

"I don't know." he explains vaguely. "I guess I always had way too big dreams and aspirations. And now that I'm at that age I back then wanted to be, I feel like I wasted all my time with nothing but short-lived successes and people who only wanted me for the moment."

"Kind of.. Reminds me of myself." you giggle. "I.. When I was young, even a teenager, I always said I won't have kids. But these days, I kind of think, in the future I want them. Not right now, but one day. I wanna have a family and stuff, live in a house and have a dog and a cat and a husband and all that." you giggle. "like I said, not right now- but in the future."

"Hmhm. I never wanted to marry either. Thought that's just bullshit." he says. "But now, after seeing some of my friends have that, I'm envious. I want that too. A partner for life, I mean. A boring life." he says.

You hum a reply, nodding to yourself, a bit of quietness falling over the both of you, before he moves again, sitting down more comfortably turned towards you.

"I.. Would really like to get to know you. Seriously, I mean." he starts explaining. "Like I said, I.. Don't know what it is exactly, but you're.. Fuck you make me all weird." he laughs. "I wanna stay in contact with you, if you'd like. We could watch a movie? Only Netflix, no deep-throating during commercial breaks, promise!" he jokes, before adding, "..except if you're up for it." he giggles when you hide your face for a good second, laughing.

"I don't even know how to do that!" you laugh, making him raise his eyebrows while playing with his lip ring.

"Oh I can teach you, don't worry about that." he teases.

"I'm sure you can.." you mumble more or less, sipping on your drink. But your sentence seems to make him curious, eyes gaining a challenging glimmer as he leans forward.

"No no no, let's rewind a bit there." he says. "Just so I know where I'm at. You a virgin?" he wonders, and you pull your legs closer to yourself.

"..no." you shrug. "But.. I highly doubt I'm as adventurous as you." you tell him, making Jungkook smirk a little, as if challenged.

"Are you? What do you think I'm into then?" he wonders. "I've got a feeling you've made up your mind about me more than I thought."

"I mean, I don't know?" you say. "You.. It's not that hard to have more experience than me. I only had sex like.. Twice, and it's honestly not really for me." you shrug. "it's weird to.. Ugh I don't know."

"No, you do know, you just don't want to say it out loud." he clears up for you, making you nod. "Did you ever have an orgasm?"

"Jungkook!" you bark out scandalized, making him raise his hands in playful defense.

"What? You gotta ask these days, men are shit in bed most of the time, I have to admit that!" he laughs, shamelessly talking about this as if it's nothing but the weather outside. "So? Did you?" he wonders, and you shrug. "So you didn't?"

"I- don't know!" you say, a little glad you can finally talk to someone about it, hesitation finally breaking as you get the chance to make your frustration some room. "It's different when I do it myself. Like, then I'm pretty sure I have one? But when I had sex it was different, like I was almost kind of there but also not.." you lean your head on the backrest of his couch.

"Sounds like you didn't then." he tells you. "See, there's women out there who can't cum from penetration at all. The key ingredient is being fucking attentive." he explains. "I got more than just my dick, is what I'm trying to tell." he says, wiggling his fingers in front of his face, several rings adoring some of them- and you laugh.

"You sound like you're trying to get me to have sex with you right now." you joke, but he just shrugs his shoulders, tongue poking against his cheek for a moment.

"I'd fuck you any day you'd let me." he simply answers, eyes on yours. "After all, I gotta check out those tattoos you said you have." he flirts, and you move around a little, air between you both getting thicker. At this point, you can't deny the attraction. And with the way he talks and treats you, you're sure you'd let him prove his point as well. Right now. No regrets.

He notices the way your eyes fall to his lips, getting attached at the silver piercings there for a good moment, before you find his warm eyes again. And even though he really did not intent to be so forward so fast, he still scoots closer, tests the waters, places his arms on either side of you before the tip of his nose almost touches yours.

"Been wondering for a while now.." he starts, licking his lips before he looks down to yours, face tilting a bit as he looks at you. "..what flavor that lipgloss might be." he jokes, before he can't help himself.

You've not been kissed often in your life, not even in relationships. But you know for a fact that there's no experience comparable to the way he kisses you- not only his lips, but also his hands craving you it seems, making you feel completely under his spell. He's not just kissing you with his lips. He's using his hands, his tongue, knows clearly how to create a moment.

Your phone rings.

His rings soon after.

He laughs- and so do you.

It's a little awkward for a second, before he sends a message informing his coworker that you're on your way back, his grin still evident, never vanishing it seems. "so..?" you wonder having stood up to go grab your coat.

"So?" he parrots back, standing up as well to walk closer to you.

"What flavor is it?" you shyly try and flirt, and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you again, just a peck, and another, and just one last one before he parts with laughter.

"I'd say cherry-" he grins, watching you tie your boots in his hallway before he cages you in at his front door again the second you stand back up, unable to resist you now that you gave him the chance to taste you.

"But let me make sure I got it right."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?” 

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

[wayfayrr]

Yandere wild headcanons

Guess who just found a set of near finished headcanons buried in a headcanon wip file :P Just had to alter one or two and here we go! some yan wild - most of this is from where I used he/they for wild (which, I'm honestly very tempted to go back to)

[masterlist]

✦ they have attachment issues, as well as being very touch-starved after their 100-year nap 

✦ they can't live without your touch, even if they themselves don't understand why yours is so much better than anyone else's touch 

✦ They’re your closest and as long as they have it their way, one of the only people you will trust.

✦ You think you can sleep anywhere else other than in their bedroll in his hold? there's no chance. Maybe at best, you can convince them to at least hold you in your bedroll but that's it.

✦ Do you think getting a bed in an inn would free you from them using you as a personal teddy? you couldn't be more wrong. They play it as saving rupees for supplies by sharing a room with you as long as none of the others want you instead? it works without fail.

✦ they’re as clingy as humanly possible, it's almost like they want to become your scarf or coat with how they’re so constantly wrapped around you

✦ on the tiniest chance that you aren’t in their arms you’re never ever out of their line of sight, they’re far to scared to lose you like everyone else they’ve ever known. Not even death could tear you from them.

✦ You best like never eating at a restaurant or ever cooking for yourself again. He’s obsessed with getting your “blessing” for any meal they make, only catering for your taste over the rest of the chain from the second he falls, well with twilight being the only exception. He could never live with himself if he poisoned wolfie afterall.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

hello :D i'm so in love with your writing i actually came up with a request for the first ever time *ever* since i joined like 5 years ago lmao

-reader gets into trouble with the chain for self endangering, reckless behavior, reprimanding/arguing ensues, maybe with reader not valuing themselves all that highly in comparison to the others? preferably with some rather rough lovin' as an escalation, just to get it through reader's thick skull that they're wanted and important

-i'd love to see Time, Warriors or Sky with this, but if you think someone else fits better that's perfectly reasonable too

-feel free to switch up any details you can't really work around (but no degradation please)

Absolutely!! I love this idea so much, so thank you for gracing me with it! I was also really inspired by this ask so it's going to be about 3-4 chapters long <3

The Bluest Eyes

Pairing: Warriors x Reader

Warning(s): A whole lot of smut and a few scenes of Reader suffering from PTSD. Reader is requested to be female.

Notes: Set in the same AU as Burning Love, where Reader is a retired war medic from Warriors' Hyrule. Also, a "night rail" is a type of nightgown :)

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

"Get down right now!" Hyrule's shout rang through the clearing, unusually annoyed for the typically patient traveler. Warriors lifted his head, blanching when he caught sight of you sitting atop the thick branches of one of the nearby trees, feet swinging down as you yelled back. 

"No! Go heal Wind!"

"Wind has a scrape on his arm," the traveler stressed, gesturing to the snoozing hero as the others began to gather under the tree, expressions ranging from concerned to downright shocked. "You've been stabbed, (Y/n)."

"I'm fucking fine," you hissed back as blood dripped onto the ground from the wound in your shoulder, and Warriors was caught between terror at your condition to complete bafflement at how you managed to climb the tree in such a state. "Leave me alone!"

"Not until you let me heal you," Hyrule ground out with a stormy expression, hands twitching as if he intended to make you come down with sheer force of will alone. 

"(Y/n)," Time tried in a soft tone, ever the voice of reason. "Denying yourself care will only hurt you further."

"Then I'll be hurting and Wind will be alive," you snarled, snapping your legs up when Wild took a running jump for them. More blood splattered from your shoulder, staining the sleeve of your tunic beyond repair, and Warriors finally noticed the unaltered fear in your expression. 

You were afraid, and he had an idea why. Being a medic during the War of Eras, there was no doubt in Warriors' mind that you had seen terrible things–death, disease, perhaps even betrayal--and the way your eyes nervously shifted to study each of them only confirmed his theory. You were trying to sacrifice yourself for them, though he couldn't fathom why; they had more than enough health potions to go around, and Hyrule had hardly even used his magic when tending to Wind. 

There was no reason for you to be acting this way, yet he knew exactly what you were. There was a faraway gleam in your eyes, like you were looking at something that didn't exist anymore. 

Warrior's stomach churned as he couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since you felt truly safe. 

"(Y/n), please..." Legend's voice was uncharacteristically soft, eyes wide with worry, an expression they all shared. "It was only a lizalfos attack, no one else got hurt."

"He did," you spat, pointing to Wind, and Warriors couldn't take it anymore. 

"That's it, we're coming up."

You gasped as the captain took a running start, leaping up and just barely latching on to the branch below your feet. "Get down right now, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"We're just trying to help you," Sky took a less physical approach, moving to stand beneath the branch with a look of barely disguised regret. 

"I'm fine," you repeated in a weak voice, and Warriors knew he had to act fast. 

"You're bleeding out," he grunted as he heaved himself over the branch, ignoring the blood dripping down onto his scarf; it wasn't like he couldn't wash it later. 

"It's just blood," you said, and he could have laughed at how disappointed you looked in yourself when the words sunk in. 

"Just blood?" Warriors pulled himself onto the branch, settling next to you, hand reaching around your waist to stabilize your swaying form. Your hands valiantly tried to bat him away, but you were far too weak to do any real damage. 

"Please," his heart ached at the beginning of tears forming in the corner of your eyes. "Get down."

"Not without you," he countered quietly. 

"You're hurt," you whimpered, and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the space. Your gaze was worryingly unfocused as you turned your head to look at him, and Warriors could only imagine what you were seeing. "I can't heal you."

"I'm not hurt," he replied gently, not wanting to scare you even more than you already were. "It's all yours."

"Oh," you blinked slowly, as if you were struggling to comprehend his very words. "I'm sorry."

There was a knot in Warriors' throat. He tried to gulp it down, but it bounced back with more force than he expected. "Don't be sorry, just let Hyrule heal you."

Your gaze flicked slowly to the heroes waiting below, a protective glint in your slowly-focusing eyes. "...What about them?"

"They'll be okay," Warriors promised, and you nodded weakly, head lolling to the right to rest against his shoulder, pressing your wound to his chest with nary a hiss. 

"Okay," you whispered in the most broken tone he had heard from you. 

Warriors was sure he hadn't moved quicker in his life, carefully gathering your limp form in his arms and dropping back to solid ground. He remained silent as Hyrule dashed over, hands already glowing with green magic. 

"Lay her down," the traveler said in a wavering voice, and Warriors did as instructed, placing you on the ground as if one wrong move would shatter you, and it was then that he truly noticed the ashy pallor your face had taken on, eyes squeezed shut as Hyrule worked his magic above you. 

Slowly but surely, the exposed wound on your shoulder closed, your skin knitting together under the traveler's hands, leaving behind a wide rip in the blood-soaked sleeve of your tunic. The fitful expression on your face softened some, but he could still see the slight frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

Warriors' hand found your uninjured shoulder, shaking it softly as Wild plopped down beside you, face twisted with worry. "How are you feeling?"

There was no response, and his heart could have damn near stopped when he registered the tell-tale softness your breathing had taken on. Nearly shoving Hyrule aside, he pressed two fingers to the side of your neck, fearing the worst. 

"Is she dead?!" Four exclaimed in absolute, unadulterated horror, and the others began to murmur in fear. Warriors' pressed harder, motions unusually desperate as he fought to find a pulse. No, his mind whispered, a cacophony of dread as his fearful thoughts soared, cursing himself for not acting sooner. He shouldn't have waited, and now you were paying the price for his stupidity--

The very notion of time seemed to skid to a standstill when you wheezed suddenly, throat bobbing harshly against his prodding fingers. 

"She's alive!" Hyrule exclaimed in palpable relief, and the tension in the air began to dissipate. Warriors took several breaths to calm his racing heartbeat, removing his hand from your neck as you coughed, turning your head to the side, groaning softly. "Fuck," you said, and the captain was torn between crying and laughing. 

"Are you alright?" Sky was quick to help you into a sitting position. You winced, rubbing at your healed shoulder with your free hand. 

"Yeah," you mumbled, looking around with mounting apprehension. "...Where's Wind?"

"Here!" called the sailor, having just woken up from his nap, and you gave him an exhausted half-grin. 

"Good," you tried to stand, only to be pushed down by Hyrule. 

"Not a chance, (Y/n)," the traveler chided, obviously still shaken from your initial refusal of help. "You're staying right there."

"I'm okay--"

"No," Hyrule said in a tone that brokered no argument. "You are– you are going to sit there and get better, or Hylia help me I will tie you down until you do."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Warriors noted how quickly you reconsidered the idea when Hyrule fixed you with a dark glare, crossing his arms over his chest in a manner that screamed 'try me and die'. 

"...Fine," you relented, slumping backward, and the captain had a distinct urge to ruffle your hair. Your cheeks pinked and you all but hissed: "Stop that."

"Nope," said Warriors, laughing softly when you fixed him with one of your practiced stares, though even a fool could see that there was no heat whatsoever in your gaze. He rose to his feet, deftly dusting the tops of his pants. "Time, do you–"

"Um, guys?" Wind's voice interrupted, filled with apprehension. Warriors turned to face the sailor... only to blanch. 

A portal had opened in the center of the clearing--pure white mixed with swirling hints of gold. The air around it crackled softly, charged with an explicably dangerous energy that had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

"Is that...?" You trailed off, letting the situation speak for itself. 

"Time," Warriors drew his sword, stalking over to put himself between you and the portal. "Do we have another–"

"No," the oldest hero cut him off, tone unusually icy. "This isn't anything I recognize."

"We'll have to go through it, then," said Wild, already advancing forward. Warriors gazed back at Twilight and Legend, who both nodded, unsheathing their swords while the captain re-sheathed his, bending over to gather you in his arms. 

"I can walk," you half snapped, though you made no real move to prove that point. 

"No, you can't," Warriors responded, turning to face the portal as Time and Twilight entered it, disappearing in a flash of light. The others followed swiftly, and he could only hope they'd be able to survive what awaited them on the other side.

You recognized the castle gates as soon as you saw them. 

You had long since wrapped your arms around Warriors' neck, holding on for dear life despite the fact that you knew he wouldn't drop you, deftly studying the bustling streets as the group stepped into Castle Town. 

It was undoubtedly your Hyrule, and there was a certain comfort in being home again. You remained silent as the others chatted, half because you were nearly asleep and half because you couldn't fathom what to say to any of them at this point. Embarrassment coursed through you as you recalled their terrified expressions when you scaled the tree, too lost in your thoughts to realize what was going on. 

You liked to think you kept decent control of your emotions, but now...

"Hey," you felt the words rumbling from Warriors' chest before you heard them. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, from the way he cocked an eyebrow down at you in response. "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that," the hero paused, then continued in a far quieter tone. "But I don't think I believe you anymore."

"Maybe because it's none of your business," you hissed... and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, I just–"

"I understand," said Warriors. The hand on your ribcage tightened as he hefted you tighter against him. "I really do."

You didn't doubt that, you really didn't, but a thick ball formed in your throat and you didn't trust yourself not to start bawling in the middle of the street. With a shaky huff, you tucked your head against the broad expanse of Warriors' chest, letting familiar darkness consume you. 

You couldn't sleep. 

The bedroom Queen Zelda had so graciously gifted you was too cold, yet your pillow felt hot enough to burn a hole through metal. You flipped onto your stomach, gripping the pillow as you buried your face into it. Every time you closed your eyes, memories of the War would pop into your mind's eye like flies, only dropping when you awoke, panting like you had run a lap around the castle itself. 

"Fuck..." you whispered to the empty room. Warriors had passed you off to Twilight and Hyrule as soon as his boots crossed the foyer, declaring that he had a meeting with Zelda, only returning with a grim expression and ten keys. The Queen had heard reports of a black lizalfos roaming the land, but they were largely unreliable, leaving everyone with no choice but to stay in the castle for the night. 

While you were grateful for the unexpected privacy, there was something to be said about sleeping in the open with what you now considered to be some of your closest friends. The room, decked out in purple tapestries, was terribly lonely, as four-poster beds typically weren't the chattiest of company. 

The bed creaked as you shifted onto your back, staring up at the stone ceiling, hands fisted in the soft fabric of the creme night rail you wore. You tried not to think of how Wind had almost been slashed, or how close Time had gotten to being bisected by a moblin, but they kept popping up the harder you willed them away. 

It was hopeless, you realized. Completely, utterly hopeless. 

You swung your legs off the side of the bed, kicking your slippers on and shuffling to the nightstand, where a lone candle sat. With trembling hands, you lit it. A fierce orange glow illuminated the room, and you used it to guide you to the door, peering outside at the empty hallway. 

You were no stranger to the castle, which is why you stepped out for a short walk, shoes scuffing gently on the polished floor. 

Aimlessly, you wandered, uncaring of where you ended up. Dark shadows stretched and spun before you, quickly vanquished by the light of the candle. You walked beneath one of the many arches, entering a hallway you didn't recognize. A large portrait hung on the very back wall, a stunning caricature of Queen Zelda and... Warriors. 

You approached the portrait, holding up your candle for a better view. Their faces were relaxed–not too relaxed, of course–and could be vaguely described as peaceful. Warriors himself looked younger, like the burden of being a hero had not yet hit, with a small grin that made the corners of your lips quirk up. 

"...(Y/n)?"

You nearly dropped the candle as you spun around, heart nearly leaping from your chest. 

"Wars?!"

And there he was, in all his blonde-haired, bleary-eyed glory, dressed in nothing but a pair of pants. You tried not to look at his chest, mostly because it was highly inappropriate and partially because you were supposed to be upset, and looking at that glorious abdomen made you feel anything but sad. 

"You're not asleep," he observed in a matter-of-fact tone. "Why was I expecting this?"

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I could say the same about you."

"I know," his gaze flicked to the portrait, then back to you. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not really."

"Liar."

You bristled. "Excuse me?"

"You're unexcused," Warriors shot back, and you became distinctly aware of just how close a two-foot distance was when you were alone. "Tell me the truth."

"And that is?"

The captain fixed you with a half-hearted, largely exhausted glare. "Gee, (Y/n), maybe when you climbed a tree to avoid medical attention?"

"That's diff–"

"Or perhaps when you refused to let Hyrule heal you until we climbed the tree?"

"That's not–"

"Or should I mention that time you attempted to give Wild a healing potion after he stubbed his toe?"

"You–"

"I'm not done," Warriors cut you off, running a hand down his face. "Do you have any idea how worried we were? How worried I was?"

There was silence, because you didn't trust yourself to speak without breaking down. 

"Well?" the captain prompted. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

You stared at him. This was pointless; you didn't want to talk, you wanted...

A knot formed in your stomach. What did you want? It had been so long since you considered something so... well, you felt it was rather mundane, but that didn't excuse that you had no idea what you wanted. 

You didn't realize you had begun to cry until Warriors' hand swiped gently at your face with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. For you, at least. 

"It's going to be alright," he said, and, before you knew it, you were bawling, thick sobs shaking your shoulders. Wars wordlessly pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your trembling form. 

"I can't do it," you whispered against his clavicle, arms encircling his bare back. "If I can't help him, how am I to help the rest of you?"

"You don't have to," the captain responded softly, hugging you a bit tighter. "You've helped enough-- no, more than enough."

"I know, b-but," you hated how your voice wavered noticeably when you spoke the last word. "I can't lose you."

"You won't."

"How can you promise that?" you hiccuped, pressing yourself closer, heavy tears blurring your vision. "Wars..."

"We're strong, (Y/n), we'll always be here," he responded slowly. Carefully. "Always."

“Promise me,” you whispered, unable to force any other words out. You needed to hear him say it, and the anticipation was tearing you from the inside out. 

“I promise,” said Warriors. He sounded genuine, but, then again, he always did. 

“Good,” you sniffed, feeling slightly sheepish for crying on him in the middle of the night. “I’m sorry, I just…”

You froze when Warriors put a finger over your lips, shushing you softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, holding you like he would never let go. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault, okay?”

That… that was new. You had always liked Warriors; he was kind and reliable, not to mention an excellent strategist. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but you willed them away, hoping the night was dark enough to conceal the burning flush on your cheeks. 

“...Okay,” you agreed, distinctly aware of the flexing muscles lying just beneath your fingertips. Warriors was strong–they all were–and you felt as much anxiety over it as you did comfort. “Why… Why were you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he responded quickly, and you couldn’t help but chuckle half-heartedly. “What is it?”

The words slipped from you like a knife through butter, like the softest silk and the quietest breeze. “We’re both hopeless.”

Warriors hummed and turned his sparkling cerulean gaze to you. “Maybe,” he whispered to the night. “Helplessness can be helped.”

“You think?” You were almost afraid to ask, but you could have done anything to hear his voice again. 

“I think it’s time for bed.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. Warriors released you when you pushed lightly on his chest, arms hanging loosely by his bare sides. “Isn’t that Sky’s line?”

“...I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

With slightly-lifted spirits, you peered outside, studying the star-spangled sky with mild interest. The moon was bright, bathing the hallway in a milky sheen that made it all the more eternal, and you wondered why you hadn’t taken the time to study it before. “It’s so–… I never noticed…”

“Beauty comes in many forms,” Warriors intoned softly with a glance in your direction. “There are people who go their whole lives without appreciating the little things.”

“And you are?”

The captain hesitated, shoulders slumping slightly, making you wonder if he would appreciate a hug. “I’m still working on it,” he admitted softly, and made the executive decision not to pry.

“So am I,” you shot an exhausted grin his way. “...How mad do you think Hyrule will be if I don’t sleep?”

Warriors ran a hand down his face, and only a fool would miss the very obvious, very large smile he was attempting to conceal. Until it shifted to a grin, then a smirk. 

“If I have to sleep, you do too.”

“Actually–”

“Hush,” you blinked dumbly when his hand extended, palm up, toward you. A few seconds passed, and Warriors let out a small huff. “(Y/n)–”

“Present.”

“...Just take my hand.”

You did.

First chapter done! This is the second ask that has activated me like this, and I'm excitedly-terrified of the other wonderful ideas y'all might send me in the future!

[vitalverstappen]

Flash Forward - M. Verstappen (part three)

summary: The world of F1 is never easy. Throw in your childhood enemy, a new coworker you can't quite get a read on and a new situationship? You're in for a wild season.

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, childhood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader, Logan Sargeant x situationship fem!reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, allusions to sex (no smut), brief mentions of Max's childhood, angst, use of y/n

a/n: i cannot believe i'm finally done with this series. taking max and y/n through three F1 seasons was a whirlwind but i'm so happy the entire story is yours. knowing me, i may do small little blurbs with them in the future, as i don't think i'll be able to part with them for very long. also this was written before Logan's ELMS announcement.

word count: 28.1k

masterlist

part one // part two

Monte Carlo, Monaco 

You woke up to the soft weight of blankets wrapped around you, the familiar warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours. The subtle rise and fall of his chest against your back was grounding, comforting even. His arm was lazily draped across your waist, fingers just grazing the edge of your ribs under the shirt you had stolen from him. 

Both of you had been taking it slow. Real slow. Your connection caught in the limbo between friends and something more - something you weren’t ready to name, even if the moments almost felt like it. The dinners that went on a little longer than they should have, Logan insisting on covering the bill, the excuse to stay over just one more night, because it was better than going home alone. The stolen kisses, the way his lips pressed against yours unexpectedly, tentatively, like he was testing the waters. It was all there - the signs, the quiet gestures, the closeness that seemed to build every time you were together. 

But you hadn’t defined it, not really, not in the way it felt like it needed to be. No titles. No labels. Just two people slowly getting to know each other on a more intimate level, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

And that was fine by you. In fact, you preferred it. 

While your artwork was a different story, you had never been one to rush into romance. The last two years with Max had been an exception. Max had been a whirlwind. A rush of emotions that left you dizzy, breathless, and swept up in decisions that came too fast. You hadn’t been ready for all of that, but you didn’t know any better at the time. 

But Logan? There was no urgency, no rush. Everything happened exactly as it should - slow, stress free, like a puzzle you pieced together, one small moment at a time. It felt easy. It felt right. 

After you placed a small peck on his skin, you wriggled out of Logan’s grasp. His arm shifted a little, but he didn’t wake. 

You made your way to the kitchen to make breakfast. Logan was obsessed with Carlos’ pancake recipe, and it had quickly become a Sunday morning tradition between you two. Whenever he stayed over, it was pancakes, coffee, and conversations about anything and everything. So, you grabbed the flour, the eggs, the vanilla, and of course, the honey. 

The scent of pancakes always made you feel cozy, even before the first bite. You also adored mornings like this, quiet and slow, where the world outside was just waking up, and inside, there was only the soft hum of your Spotify playlist and the sizzle of batter on the hot griddle. 

During the season, it was rare for you to enjoy these moments. It was always running to the track, trying to remember where in the world you even were. The chaos of the season was fun, the challenge of meeting deadlines exciting, but it was welcoming to have this kind of peace.

As the pancakes began to cook, you set the table, making sure to leave a spot for Logan. You heard him stir in the other room, the soft shuffle of footsteps on the hardwood mixed with the music that was playing. You didn’t have to rush him. He would be out there when he was ready, just like he always was every Sunday. 

You flipped the pancakes, the golden edges crisping up perfectly, and when you turned around, you saw Logan standing in the doorway. His hair was messy, his eyes still full of sleep, and his bare chest a welcoming sight. For a moment, he just watched you, taking in the sight of you wearing his Williams Racing shirt, the fabric loose on your frame. A lazy, content smile crept across his face that made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain. 

“Morning” he said, his voice thick with sleep but warm, as if nothing in the world was more important than the moment in front of him. 

“Morning” you replied, glancing over at him before turning back to the griddle. 

The sound of his bare feet shuffling on the hardwood filled the room again as Logan made his way over to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in from behind. You could feel the heat of his body as he lazily tucked his head into the crook of your neck, watching you finish cooking breakfast. 

“You look good in my shirt” he murmured, voice muffled against your skin, but there was no mistaking the smile in his tone

You chuckled softly, planting a soft kiss on his head “I think I wear it better than you do” you teased 

“Maybe” he said, but his smile only grew “but I’m gonna steal it back after breakfast”

“Sure you are” you rolled your eyes, a smile still plastered on your lips 

Your focus turned back to the pancakes, feeling his arms tighten around just a little around you as he nuzzled against your neck. It felt effortless. Comfortable. For the first time in a while, it felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

======

Across the hall, the atmosphere was completely different. There was no music playing, no playful banter, just quiet that felt heavier than it should’ve. It had been like that for a while now - tension that settled in, unspoken and unresolved, no matter how hard Max tried. Ever since his vacation in Barcelona, your face had been at the forefront of his mind. 

He had told himself it was just a passing thing, that he was back home and everything would go back to normal. But when he’d returned, it was impossible to ignore the shift. The connection he had with Isabella, while once comfortable and familiar, now seemed foreign. It felt like something was missing. And in the quiet of his apartment, in those rare moments when he allowed himself to stop and think, the only thing that kept creeping into his thoughts was you. 

He couldn’t deny it anymore. After Barcelona, he had spent far too many nights scrolling through your social media accounts - stalking, in the most harmless way possible, or at least that’s what he told himself. It started with your personal account. It wasn’t like he was trying to find something to make himself feel better about the distance that had grown between him and Isabella, but somehow, you’d become a constant in his thoughts. 

Each photo, each post, every little detail felt like a breadcrumb trail he couldn’t resist following. There were shots of you, your eyes half closed in the sunlight, a soft smile on your lips, standing on the edge of the world in England. Then there was Logan, appearing more and more in your stories and posts, at first casually, but then with a certain ease, like you beginning to slip into something… more. There were no signs of it being explicitly named, not in the way that would make everything real, but there was no mistaking the quiet chemistry that danced through your posts, through the subtle way your fingers brushed his in a candid shot, or how you started tagging each other in pictures that felt intimate, even if you didn’t mean them to be. 

But then there was your photography page. 

It was no secret that Max had admired your work - he sang praises about it to whoever would listen, even if you weren’t around. Ferrari still dominated the feed, all those breathtaking shots from last season, the smooth curves of the cars, and the sleek lines of the racetracks. But littered throughout the bright red, were sprinkles of dark blue. Hints of his own car were still found in the whirlwind of red. 

But there was another shade of blue creeping into your feed. It was lighter, and gave a much more welcoming feeling. That shade of blue wasn’t going to destroy anything and everything in its path. The shade of blue that only belonged to a Williams car. 

Mixed into the racing photos were photos of your travels, places you visited between races and seasons. These were more intimate. A series of pictures that felt real. Not the polished shots he was used to seeing of events and on the track. These felt raw, unfiltered. And in those images, hints of Logan could be seen - an arm, or the back of his head. His shadow in your life became undeniable. 

Max always found himself staring at those photos longer than he should. Trying to piece together a story he wasn’t a part of. A narrative he didn’t want to be a part of, but couldn’t help but feel drawn to. He wasn’t a fool. He could see what was happening, even if you hadn’t fully realized it yet. You had slipped away, or maybe you were just beginning to let go of the illusion that you and Logan were just friends. Max didn’t know how to feel about it.

He should’ve been happy for you, right? You were finding someone. You were finding something. But there was a bitter edge to his thoughts. Because no matter how many times he tried to bury the idea, the feeling grew stronger. What did this mean for him and Isabella? What did this mean for his own feelings, things he hadn’t even processed yet?

Max pulled up your personal profile again, the small colorful circle around your profile photo showed that you had posted a new story. Against his better judgment, he tapped on it. A photo of your kitchen table popped up, two plates filled with pancakes - Carlos’ recipe most likely, he knew how much you raved about it. Across from you was a hand. A man’s hand. Logan’s hand. Logan was across the hall. 

Max’s chest tightened, his breath came up in short, sharp bursts as he stared at the image on his phone. The photo of you and Logan. It was innocent, nothing overly affectionate - just pancakes, a lazy Sunday morning. But that hand. The way it rested on the table, the fingers just shy of brushing against your own, spoke volumes.

He had spent weeks trying to push down the feeling that something wasn’t right with him and Isabella. He had told himself it was just the pressures of the season, just a phase. But now, it felt like everything was crashing down on him at once. The quiet distance between him and Isabella had only grown, and you had become a constant thought, even though he knew it wasn’t right. 

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia 

The paddock always felt like a circus - an ever changing, high stakes performance where the pressure was as loud as the noise. Even the most experienced drivers occasionally crumpled under the pressure. Throw in the nineteen year old reserve driver? It’s gonna be interesting. 

“So Carlos needs to get his appendix removed?” you asked as Annalese entered the hospitality suite.

Annalese sighed, “Apparently” she replied, slipping into the chair opposite of you. “It’s not ideal, but the surgeon apparently said he’ll be fine after a few weeks. But you know what that means…” 

“Ollie?” you asked 

“Ollie.” she answered, “which also means…” 

“Finding him and doing quick media content” you finished her sentence, a smirk playing on your lips. 

As if you two were being controlled, you stood up in sync, already knowing what you had to do. Your attention was on the tablet in your hands, swiping through the team schedule, looking for any hint as to where Ollie could be. 

“According to this, he should be in the garage going over data.” you said, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you looked at the spreadsheet. 

“So we should be able to snatch him for a moment to make the announcement video.” Annalese replied 

“That, or his team is going to chase us out of there, armed with wrenches and screwdrivers” 

You continued to scroll down the spreadsheet, curious as to what the day brought for the rest of the team. Your diverted focus however, meant that you didn’t notice the person standing in the middle of the walkway until you had collided with their chest. 

“I’m sorry -,” you began as you took a step back and looked up from your tablet, “Max?” 

Max’s eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and mild annoyance, but his expression softened when he realized who it was. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips, and to no surprise, his usual air of confidence was there. 

“Didn’t see you there” you muttered, adjusting the tablet in your hands, a little flustered at the collision.

Max’s smirk deepened, and he took a small step back, glancing down at the tablet in your hands before meeting your eyes again. “Clearly” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “How’ve you been?” 

You blinked at the unexpected question, taken aback for a moment. Max wasn’t one to check in on people, especially outside of race-related matters. Especially if he blew up in your face mere months ago. You shrugged nonetheless, attempting to shake off the sudden feeling of vulnerability. 

“Busy” you replied, offering a half smile. “You know how it is, constant chaos.” 

Max nodded, fiddling with the can in his hand. “Right, of course.” he said before taking a breath. “How was your break?” 

You felt the question hang in the air, and for a brief moment, you hesitated. Max asking about how you were was odd in itself. Him asking about your break was even more strange, especially after everything that happened between you two. The memory of that argument, the tension from months ago, still lingered in the back of your mind. But then, it was Max. He had a way of keeping things casual, pretending like the cracks never formed in the first place. 

“Break?” You raised an eyebrow, hoping you sounded nonchalant. “It was… alright. Quiet. Logan and I did a bit of traveling.” 

Max’s expression softened at the mention of Logan’s name, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something you couldn’t describe. He nodded, as if processing the information, but his smirk remained in place. “That sounds nice. Traveling is always good, even if it’s just to get away from it all.” 

You shrugged, trying to keep things light “Yeah, exactly. A little peace and quiet never hurt anyone.” 

There was a beat of silence, the sound of the paddock humming in the background, the usual chaos always just a heartbeat away. Max fiddled with his Red Bull can again, clearly thinking. The brief lull felt oddly comfortable, despite the tension that you both seemed to be dancing around. 

“So, how about you?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to him. “Did you get a proper break?” 

Max’s lips twitched into something that could’ve been passed as a smile, though it was far from reaching his eyes. “You could say I had a break, though it wasn’t exactly restful.”

You wanted to ask what he meant, if something happened behind the scenes, but that would mean he was important. And Max Verstappen was not an important part of your life anymore.

And so, you didn’t. Instead, you offered a nod, letting the silence last just a little bit longer. 

“Hey!” Annalese called, cutting the silence between you “Love that you guys are chit chatting, but we have a driver to find” 

“Right” you said, any traces of awkwardness left slowly evaporated as you were brought back to reality. “We need to go find Ollie. But thanks for the chat, Max. It’s uh… been a while.” 

Max gave a brief, almost undetectable smile, his eyes softening for a moment. “Anytime” he replied, words quieter than usual. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off, his footsteps steady and sure as always. 

Just as you expected, you found Ollie in his garage. The number 55 was nowhere to be found, but instead replaced by 38. You were honestly amazed how quickly the team was able to swap everything out, as if Carlos was never even there. 

The stark change in the number alone reminded you that the Spaniard wouldn’t be with Ferrari come next season. Lewis had signed with the team, and while you were excited to see what he could add, you were going to miss Carlos. 

Ollie was to the side of the garage, staring intently at the wall of monitors, clearly deep in thought. His focus was unwavering as he looked at the data, the world around him easily faded away. 

You wanted to leave him be, let him get as adjusted as possible without media distractions. But the life he lived didn’t let that happen. 

So, you sighed as you walked up to the reserve driver. “Hey, Ollie” you said, hoping not to scare him “Got a minute?” 

Ollie turned his head to look at you. You were expecting him to be annoyed that you pulled him away from his data, but the Brit had the biggest smile on his face. 

“Yeah, of course, I’ve got a minute,” Ollie said, putting his headset down. “What’s up?”

Annalese hesitated, surprised by his easy going approach to the weekend. The switch from Carlos to him - however temporary - was a huge turn of events. 

“Need you for a quick video” Annalese said, motioning to the camera slung around your shoulder. “Just the usual - announcement for Carlos’, uh, situation.” 

You didn’t feel the need to elaborate, only offering a nod. He knew exactly what Annalese meant. 

The three of you made your way out to the pit lane for filming, as there were no cars on track. You walked Ollie through what to highlight in the video, offering him suggestions on what to say. 

“Ready?” you asked, holding your camera in the perfect angle. 

“Ready” he answered. You pressed record, motioning for him to start talking. “Hey guys, Ollie here, bit of an unexpected night to be standing here. Firstly my condolences to Carlos…”

You and Annalese exchanged glances, the two of you thinking the exact same thing. Carlos isn’t dead. But Ollie was so busy rambling about his day and how excited he was to be with Ferrari, that both of you kept your mouth shut until he was done. 

“That was good, but you know, Carlos is still alive, he’s just getting surgery” you couldn’t help but chuckle

Ollie froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed what you said. “Oh no.” His face flushed with embarrassment as he quickly glanced at Annalese who was holding back a laugh. “I-uh, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear, I didn’t-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as Ollie scrambled to explain himself, his face now matching the color of his Ferrari shirt. polo. “It’s okay, we know you didn’t mean it like that” 

Annalese couldn’t hold it in as she let out a snort of laughter. “Carlos would definitely appreciate not being mourned while he’s still very much alive, recovering in a hospital bed.” 

“But it would be really fucking funny if we left that in the video.” you added, a smirk still dancing on your lips 

“Would you leave it in the video?” Ollie asked, curiosity lacing his words 

You shrugged “Honestly, probably. It was a solid one-take, you hit everything on the head, and the hiccup will surely add a bit of humor for the fans.” 

Ollie didn’t need any more convincing to agree to use the already filmed clip. As quickly as you pulled him away from his work, you sent him right back to it, hoping to get him prepped and ready for the weekend. 

======

Fortunately, Ollie did great for his first F1 race. He finished P7, getting six points for the team. Charles made the podium for the first time for the season, placing P3 behind Checo in P2, and to no one’s surprise, Max in P1. 

You waved to Ollie as you made your way to parc ferme, making a note to congratulate him when you had a moment. When you got to parc ferme, you found yourself a spot for photographing the top three. As you snapped photos, you chatted with some of the team, congratulating each other on the podium. One of the people you expected to be there though, was nowhere to be found. 

Your eyes scanned the crowd of Ferrari crew members once more. Surely you had just glossed over her in the sea of red. There were so many people, all wearing the same uniform. Nope. No sign. 

She wouldn’t miss his podium. Not in a million years. You knew she’d do anything and everything it took to be there. She did it all last season, even if Ferrari wasn’t on a step. But there you were, and she was noticeably absent. 

“Hey, have you seen Isabella?” you asked, walking up to one of the mechanics, trying to sound casual as you snapped a few more photos of Charles yapping with Max.

The mechanic looked at you with a slight hesitation, as if he was debating whether or not to tell you. “She’s with Ollie. Getting a headstart on the post race work with him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you could feel a flicker of doubt in your chest. Getting a headstart on post-race work? Sure, that made sense for someone new on the team. But Isabella? That didn’t quite add up, especially if going to celebrate Max was an option to put it off. 

“Right” you said, trying to mask the intrigue in your voice. You turned your attention back to the three drivers, snapping one last picture as they disappeared into the cooldown room. 

You went through the podium routine, being sure to avoid getting doused in champagne. Once the celebrations subsided, you made your way back to the Ferrari garages. Isabella was seated on one of the stools, camera in hand, most likely looking at the photos she took. It was hard to tell whether she was deep in thought about the photos or just lost in her own head, but something about her demeanor didn’t seem entirely normal. 

“Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light as you approached her, “Good shots?” 

Isabella didn’t immediately look up. Instead, she absently adjusted the camera in her hands, before giving a soft, almost absent minded nod. “Yeah I think so,” she muttered, her voice quieter than usual. “Pretty standard, nothing too exciting.” 

You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of concern. Pretty standard? You would be the first to admit she was an incredibly talented photographer. Isabella saying her photos were pretty standard was unheard of. 

You took a slow breath and decided to press a little further, knowing her decently enough to read between the lines when something didn’t feel right. 

“Why weren’t you at the podium?” you asked, trying to sound casual but noticing how your voice came out slightly softer than you intended. “I thought you’d wanna see Max-.” 

At the mention of the Red Bull driver, Isabella’s posture stiffened for a fraction of a second. She quickly forced her expression back to neutrality, but you caught it. She met your gaze for the first time since you’d walked up to her, her lips curving into a small, almost dismissive smile. 

“I just wanted to make sure Ollie was set for the post-race media scrums. He’s still adjusting to everything, you know?” Her words felt rehearsed, like a practiced response, and though her voice sounded calm, there was a tension there - an underlying current that made your gut twist with suspicion. 

You nodded, but the unease in your chest only grew. It was definitely true that Ollie may need the extra help going through his first F1 weekend, But Isabella wasn’t the type to stay away from the celebrations for that. 

Before you could ask any more questions, Isabella stood up, her body language shifting in a way that made you feel like the conversation was over. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do.” she said quickly, her tone almost now businesslike, as if to close the door on any further discussion. “I’ll catch you later.” 

With that, she packed up her belongings, and made her way through the garage, leaving out of the back.

You stood there for a second, processing the interaction you just had. But before you knew it, chatter quickly filled the pit lane, as Red Bull was making their way to their garage. Leading the pack was Max. His gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat too long, his usual cool demeanor slightly shifting as if something had crossed his mind. 

Your mouth opened, as if you were to speak, but no sound came out. You didn’t know what to say to him. Congrats on the win! What’s wrong with your girlfriend? 

So, you quickly broke eye contact, not wanting to draw anymore attention to him. But his look was sharp, calculating, like he was reading you. It was unsettling, to say the least. 

Melbourne, Australia

One of your favorite races on the calendar was Melbourne. Ever since you started traveling down under, the city held a special place for you - part of it being the thrill of being so far away from everything you've ever known in Europe, but also because there was something electric about the energy there. Whether it was the bustling streets, the laid-back vibe, or the fact that the Australian Grand Prix was always a spectacle, Melbourne had a way of drawing you in every time. 

One you’d dropped off your bags and gotten settled, the first stop was always the same: Graffiti Alley. You could call it a bit of a tradition at this point, and even though you’d wandered through the maze of artwork countless times before, it was never the same. It was a living, breathing space, filled with history, culture, and the spontaneous creativity that you longed to return to from when you were a teenager. 

This time, you brought Logan. You were bouncing off the walls with excitement as you finally got to show him arguably your favorite street in the world. 

“You ready for this?” you asked, glancing over at Logan, your fingers intertwined with his. 

Logan, gave you a grin and shrugged, his curiosity piqued. “Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.” You could read him like a book, so you could tell he was trying to play it cool, acting as if he hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes scrolling through his phone looking up pictures of the alley. 

A laugh left your mouth, feeling a wave of fondness for him as you turned the corner. Off the bat, you noticed some of the artwork had been painted over with new pieces. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at Logan, still trying to play it cool, his phone now tucked away in his pocket as he took in the surroundings. You could tell he was impressed, his eyes darting from one striking piece of art to the next, the occasional flicker of recognition crossing his face as if trying to place the meaning behind the murals. 

“See?” you said, exchanging Logan’s hand for your camera. “I told you it would be worth it.” 

Logan’s grin widened as he looked around, eyes scanning the art. “Okay, okay. I get it now,” he said, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “This place is unreal. It’s like the walls are talking to you.” 

“Told you” you teased, as you brought the camera up to your face, snapping a few shots of the art around you. You were sure to get a few of Logan’s amazement.

Logan rolled his eyes as you took the photos of him, but his smile never waivered. “Fine, fine, maybe a bit.” he conceded.

The two of you navigated through the network of backstreets, snapping photos as you did so. Logan followed your lead, taking out his phone and channeling his inner photographer. You couldn’t help but laugh as he mimicked your poses, hoping to get the same angles you were. 

“You look ridiculous” you chuckled as you watched Logan squat in the middle of the alley. 

“Hey, I’m just copying you.” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. Once he finally got himself up, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in. “Have you ever thought of buying a few cans and graffiting a piece here?” 

Your weight shifted a tad, leaning more into him as you pondered the question. “I mean I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it” you said, looking around the walls that surrounded you. “But I don’t know” 

“Why not?” he asked, “I’ve seen your work, it’s definitely worthy of being up here.” 

You paused for a moment, looking at the vibrant artwork around you. The last time anyone had talked about you adding to it was with Max years ago. It was an idea that had taken up a lot of space in your head, but one that never came to fruition. 

“It’s a little intimidating, you know?” you said, glancing up at a mural of a heart restled in the branches of a tree. It was one of the few murals that had been there every single year you’ve visited. The colors faded in the sun, but no one had dared to touch it. “I also don’t want to cover up someone’s work.” 

Logan placed a kiss on your head, before speaking “If you do, just know I’ll be the first one wanting to see it.” 

======

You didn’t see much of Logan the rest of the weekend. Between his media duties, him getting his car taken away for Alex to use, and your camera getting hit by a cricket ball that Charles had smacked, you both had your hands full. You did, however, see a lot more of Max than you were expecting. 

It started on media day. Both him and Charles had been running around talking to different sponsors, doing promotional videos, and simply hanging around the paddock. Whenever you were on the move with Charles, it seemed Max was always walking past in the opposite direction. It wasn’t unusual for him to be involved in everything - everyone wanted to meet him after all - but this time, there was an undeniable shift in the air. 

It was subtle at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it. Max’s glances were no longer just passing, neutral acknowledgements - he was actively seeking them out. It wasn’t the typical “I’m just here to do my thing” look that you were used to from him. This was different. His eyes lingered for just a beat longer than usual, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips whenever they met yours. 

It was during the post-qualifying press conferences that it really hit you. You were sitting near the back of the media room, scanning through some of the shots you had taken earlier when you caught Max’s eyes across the room. He was in the middle of answering a question, but for some reason, his gaze flickered to yours again - longer this time. When your eyes met, there was something unspoken there. It wasn’t a stare, exactly, but more of a quiet acknowledgement that only the two of you seemed to understand. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued by the shift. His desire to hold your attention oddly coincided with Isabella’s shift in demeanor. Curiosity got the best of you as you opened Instagram, typing in her handle name into the search bar. As you thumbed through her profile, there were a few things you took note of. 

The first thing that stood out was the change in Isabella’s posts. There weren’t as many shared moments with Max, no sweet captions or photos of the two of them at events. In fact, it had been a few weeks since she had even mentioned him in her stories. 

You could already feel the pieces falling into place, as you noticed posts from the past few months had a new cover photo. Posts that had Max at the forefront of them now were replaced by landscapes or solo shots of Isabella. 

As you lurked, you found yourself staring at one of the last remaining traces of Max on her profile. It was a photo of one of the beaches in the French Riviera, with Max’s silhouette in the distance, his outline tagged with his username. 

So, you did what you thought any other person would do, and followed the tag to his profile. While it was common knowledge that someone else mostly ran his account, you couldn’t help but look. His posts were more frequent, more personal. There were the standard race weekend photos, but sprinkled in were photos of his day to day life, of Jimmy and Sassy. Photos that the public wouldn’t normally get. 

They had definitely called it quits. 

 ======

The run ins with Max continued as he was forced to retire on lap 4. You were on the complete opposite side of the circuit as he pulled into the pit lane, but as he did so, you received a text 

from Isabella. 

Can we swap assignments for the rest of the race? 

No questions asked, you agreed, letting her know where you were currently stationed if she wanted track shooting ideas. You rode the golf cart shuttle back to the pit lane, where Isabella was already long gone. 

One of the many monitors on the wall was the TV coverage showing the Red Bull garage next door, with Max sitting in his car, frustrated. It was understandable, having to give up winning the race because of a car failure. 

You made your way to the pit wall, finding yourself a spot in between the grating of the metal fence that separated you and the track. The rest of the race you were stationed there, alternating taking shots of the cars on track and turning to shoot the boys as they pulled in for a pitstop. 

Carlos and Charles had finished first and second, respectively. From your spot, you were able to capture both cars crossing the finish line, as well as the team celebrating along the wall as they did so. 

As the mechanics and engineers turned to race down to the podium, you turned to follow suit, only stopping when Max’s gaze caught your attention yet again. He was standing outside his garage, clearly showered and changed into his team kit. 

You didn’t expect the sudden jolt in your chest. His gaze held for just a moment too long before both of you broke it simultaneously, you looking down toward the podium, and him to his engineer. Mere seconds later, you met each other's eyes again, GP was gone, and you had a minute or so to spare before the ceremony began. 

“Hey” you said, giving him a soft smile as you approached the rival garage. “Sorry about the race” 

He shrugged, “It’s all good. I can’t win every race, no matter how much I try” he joked, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. 

“Can’t stay on top forever, huh?” you replied, your voice light even though you could sense Max’s frustration lingering beneath the surface. You paused for a moment, debating on whether or not to bring her up. Against your better judgment, you did. “How’s Isabella taking the DNF?” 

Max’s expression shifted for a brief second, and you could immediately tell you hit a touchy subject. His eyes narrowed, a mix of frustration and contentment formed on his face. He let out a small, controlled exhale, before responding in a calm voice. “She gets it. It’s all part of racing.”

Knowing Max, and how much he hated someone pushing his buttons, that’s exactly what you did. And thankfully, you were pretty good at playing dumb.

“Did something happen between you two?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “She’s usually the one comforting you over here when you have a bad race.” 

“We broke up.” he informed you, his jaw tightened slightly before being released. “Things weren’t working out.” 

Your expression softened for real this time as he confirmed your speculations, noting the slight disappointment in his voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything-”

“No, you’re fine.” Max interrupted, running his hand through his damp hair. His tone changed, as if he got a second wind, as if he was okay with the split. “I was the one who ended it all.”

You don’t know why your heart pounded a little extra when you heard his explanation. People go through breakups all the time, it’s just a part of life. But the way he said it, so matter-of-factly, yet with an undertone of something unspoken - struck a chord in you. It was almost like there was another factor that contributed to him breaking things off with Isabella. 

You also weren’t sure what to say after that. You couldn’t apologize, that would lead to a never ending cycle you didn’t want to be a part of. 

“I’m sorry.” Max blurted out before you got a chance to find what to say. 

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden apology. Max Verstappen, of all people, apologizing? It almost felt out of place. He was more than capable of doing so, but it was something you never expected. 

“Sorry?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing before he spoke again. “For Singapore. I spoke without thinking.”

You didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. The argument had been burned in your mind. The words thrown at each other, the accusations. It was a tattoo that you couldn’t remove. 

“Yeah, you did” you let out a small chuckle, catching the driver by surprise. The chuckle was quickly followed by a sigh, your voice lowering. “But I think I did too.” 

Max’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, and he looked at you with an unreadable expression, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. For a moment, it seemed like he was trying to process what you meant by that. 

“You did?” he asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice. “I didn’t think… I mean, I wasn’t expecting an apology from you.” 

You shrugged, a little sheepishly, but your gaze held steady. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t exactly calm either. I got caught up in the heat of it too. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” 

There was a pause as you both stood there, in this strange in-between space where everything felt more real than it had in a long time. You hadn’t expected to be standing here, having a conversation like this with Max. The silence of car engines being turned off snapped both of you out of your bubble. 

Max glanced down towards the podium, before landing back on you. “You probably should-”

“Yeah, I should go.” you said, turning to walk away. You stopped for a moment, turning back to get his attention one more time. “Hey Max?” 

“Huh?” he asked, looking at you again

“Do you wanna grab a coffee next time we’re both back home?” you asked

Max stared at you for a beat, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you caught him off guard or if he was considering the offer. But then, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, something genuine - almost relieved. 

“Sure.” he said, his voice quieter than it had been “I’d like that.” 

You were surprised by how easy and natural it felt to say those words to him. You hadn’t expected the conversation to take the turn that it did, but something about it felt right. 

“Cool. I’ll see you around, Max.” you replied, finally turning to walk toward post race celebrations that were already underway. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Arranging a date to meet took longer than either of you had hoped. Between race weekends, Max buried in sim work and meetings in Milton Keynes, and you flying in and out of Maranello for shoots and content, the calendar seemed to mock you both. When you were both home, it felt like you couldn’t catch a break. You’d pass each other in the halls of your building, both too busy to do more than wave as you hurried to your respective commitments. 

But somehow, after a month of missed opportunities, the stars finally aligned. It was a quiet weekend in between races, and you had a rare break from the chaos.

Max was sitting at his sim, wrapping up the sim racing stream he was doing with some of his friends. As he was logging off, his phone buzzed with a text from you. 

Free tomorrow? Coffee at my place?

His heart gave a little skip. He hadn’t seen you properly in ages, and even though you passed by each other in the halls and paddock, it had somehow felt like months since you’d last had an actual conversation. 

He quickly typed out a reply.

Max: I think I can squeeze it in. Time?

You: 10 AM? I’ll keep the coffee hot

The next morning, he stood in front of your apartment door, adjusting his shirt and trying to ignore the slight flutter in his chest. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Just coffee. 

It took a minute to build up the courage to knock on your door, but when he did, he could feel his stomach flip. He could hear the shuffling of your footsteps - at least he hoped it was just your footsteps from the other side of the door. You didn’t explicitly say Logan would be there, but you also didn’t say he wouldn’t. 

The door swung open, and there you were. You looked relaxed in a gray Miami Dolphins hoodie and leggings, the familiar warmth in your eyes as you greeted him. 

“Hey” you said, your voice soft, with the same warmth that Max loved. “Come in.”

Max stepped inside, letting the door fall gently behind him. The apartment was cozy, and definitely yours. As he passed the kitchen, he noticed photographs and artwork donning the walls, in a tasteful manner, each piece hung with intent. Once you led him to the living room, he instantly took notice of two skateboards mounted on the wall above the couch. The top one painted with the Ferrari lettering, while the bottom one had three skeleton hands flipping him off. 

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the boards. He should’ve known you would’ve added a touch of your skater past in the apartment, but it was a welcomed touch. It was you. 

“Nice place.” he said, glancing around. The apartment felt a lot like your childhood bedroom, warm, inviting, and very much like it reflected you - comfortable, and lived-in, but matured enough to not seem childish. Maybe it was the slight familiarity of the decorations, or the fact that Logan wasn’t there, but Max felt an odd sense of ease as you guided him further into the living room. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, as you motioned toward the small kitchen counter where the coffee was already set up. “Take a seat. I’ll grab you a cup.”

Max settled onto the couch, glancing at the books and knick-knacks scattered about - a mix of travel souvenirs, racing memorabilia, and more personal items that seemed to tell a story. It was like a puzzle of your life, scattered in front of him, each item a clue.  

When you returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, he snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at you with a small smile. “You know,” he said, taking the cup you handed him and breathing in the rich aroma, “I didn’t think we’d get to do this with our schedules. It’s nice.” 

You returned the smile, your eyes soft with a quiet, easy warmth. “It’s been a while since we’ve actually had time to talk, huh?” you said, making yourself comfy on the couch as well. “We’re both always running around, never getting a chance to actually stop for a minute.” 

Max nodded, cradling the coffee between his hands. The heat was comforting, much different to the coldness you two had been giving each other the entirety of last season. He took a sip of the drink, letting the flavors infiltrate his taste buds. 

“This is really good, y/n. What is it?” he asked, his mind far from the small talk you were having moments earlier. 

You pondered the question for a moment, as if you were trying to find the answer to your question. “This one is the Italian roast. I’ve been alternating between this and a Spanish roast Carlos gave me.” 

Max let out a chuckle at the mention of his former teammate. “Really? He must really know his coffee if he’s giving you tips.” 

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back into the couch cushions, your body language casual and comfortable. Max couldn’t help but notice how much easier it felt to be here now. No racing. No rush. 

“You have no idea. We’ve started having to follow him to the espresso machine in the motorhome so we can get his coffee content. But honestly, it’s hard to fight back when he always gives free samples.” 

Max shrugged, “Maybe I need to start bribing him with something to get my hands on some of this next time.” 

“I think a race win would be a perfect trade off” you offered, a smirk playing on your lips

The driver rolled his eyes, but the smile still persisted on his lips. “Hey, some of us are fighting for a World Championship.”

“Yeah, your fourth” you replied 

“You can never have too many” he defended before taking another sip of the coffee, the liquid warming his throat. 

As you two caught up, Max couldn’t help but feel a small shift inside, like the walls that both of you had built up between you over the last year were slowly starting to crumble. The act of sitting there, of just talking, seemed to be more than enough. And from your shift in body language, you seemed to be realizing the same. 

“I think we both needed this,” you said quietly, a small, genuine smile forming on your face. It was a different kind of smile than you usually wore - one that was more open, less guarded. “Just time to breathe.” 

Max nodded, returning the smile back to you. “Yeah, we really did. It was nice to catch up without any distractions for once.” After a long silence, Max sighed, standing up. “But I should probably get going. Thanks again for this.”

You stood up too, walking him to the door. “Anytime,” you said, the soft smile on your lips making his chest tighten a little. “We should do it more often. We’ll both be in town next weekend.” you said. He instantly registered that you meant that you’d both be in town for work. It was about to be the Monaco Grand Prix, afterall.

Max smiled, a genuine curve on his lips. “Definitely” 

And as he stepped out the door, he didn’t want to leave. But the connection had been made. And that was enough, for now. Something had shifted between you. It was subtle, but it was real. 

====== 

The week had flown by, and before you knew it, you found yourself back in the paddock. Just like last year, Logan was staying with you, but Oscar chose to bunk in the team hotel. He claimed that it was “team orders” and they were “nervous that he’d leak important information to the rivals” but you knew he just didn’t want to be the third wheel. You didn’t have a super license, and Logan was driving a dumpster on wheels. 

Regardless of the tractor that Logan was driving, or McLaren’s sudden paranoia, one thing was for certain: when the hometown boy wins, everyone celebrates. The streets of Monte Carlo were always packed with parties during the weekend, but this was another level. 

“Is that Vasseur?” Logan asked as you walked into Jimmy’z, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd. 

You turned in the direction Logan was looking, following his gaze upwards. Sure enough, Fred was high above the crowd, on top of someone’s shoulders. You chuckled, as you shook your head. 

“Well, at least it was easy finding where the team is” you pointed out, your eyes still on the scene.

You both laughed, and as the two of you continued weaving your way through the crowd toward the bar, you couldn’t help but notice how Logan’s body was pressed up against yours, close enough that it was hard to ignore the warmth radiating between you two. The chaos of the club didn’t seem to matter much in that little bubble you’d formed as you stood waiting for the bartender to notice you. 

One of Logan’s arms was lazily draped over your shoulder as the other was resting on the bar, his card in hand. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You are not paying” you said as you took notice of his card 

Logan just grinned, not missing a beat. “It’s the least I can do for the winner.” His voice was playful, almost teasing. 

You rolled your eyes, not sure whether to laugh or groan. “I didn’t win anything,” you reminded him. “I simply stood there and took photos of it all.” 

“Eh, minor details.” he said as the bartender finally approached. He ordered for the two of you, listing off your favorite drink as he did so. 

“You know my drink order?” you asked as the bartender went on his way to make the drinks. 

“Of course I do.” he replied, his grin widening as he leaned a little closer “I’ve been paying attention.” 

As the evening wore on, the drinks continued to flow. You and Logan took turns buying each other rounds, with additional drinks being added by other drivers, engineers, and mechanics. 

With the additional amount of alcohol in your system, your inhibitions faded away. You dragged Logan out to the dancefloor, where the music pulsed through the speakers, and the bright lights made everything a little hazy. The crowd was wild, moving in sync to the beat, and you and Logan quickly found yourselves caught up in it all. 

Logan didn’t hesitate for a second, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer as the rhythm took over. You both laughed as you moved together, the chaos of the weekend forgotten in that bubble of energy.

The drinks had hit, and the world around you seemed to blur more. You could feel Logan’s hands exploring your body as you danced, the heat of his touch sending sparks through your skin. The music thumped, almost louder than the racing of your heart, as his body pressed closer to yours, moving in rhythm with yours. The space between you was nonexistent as he held you, the closeness magnetic, impossible to ignore. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, this breath warm against your ear as he leaned in. 

“Having fun?” he murmured, his voice low and husky

You nodded, your breath quickening, but it wasn’t the music that had you like this - it was the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. 

A giggle escaped your lips, more carefree than before. “I didn’t think you liked to dance.” you teased before kissing his lips, half expecting him to break the moment and crack a joke. 

Logan’s grin turned more into a smirk, eyeing the door before turning to look back at you. “I mean, I’d rather be moving a different way with you.” 

Normally, you would have dismissed the idea, brushed it off as a joke, and continued the banter. But with your inhibitions long gone, you eyed the exit, the thought of taking Logan home much more alluring than it had been moments earlier. 

You pulled Logan closer to you, crashing your lips against his once again, unable to resist the pull between you two. The kiss was instant, raw, and full of intensity. His lips were warm and urgent against yours, deeping the connection with every movement. 

Logan’s hands found your waist, pulling you tighter against him. The feel of his body against yours was electrifying, and the feeling of the rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours was addicting. His fingers gently traced the line of your back, sending shivers through you, and you couldn’t help but to lean into him more. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you panted, dying for air. Your hand rested on his cheek, his bright blue eyes stared into yours. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked, the air returning to your lungs. 

“Please.” he said before taking your hand, leading you out of the club and back home to continue the night. 

The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the head you’d left behind in Jimmy’z. The walk back felt too long, though neither of you said anything. Every now and then, Logan would glance at you with that playful grin, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. There was no need for words; everything you both wanted seemed to hand in the air, unspoken but understood. 

When you reached your apartment, Logan was quick to open the door, pulling you inside with a quiet urgency. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he was on you again, his lips crashing against yours. His hands moved to your back, guiding you backwards until the back of your legs hit the couch. 

Logan’s hands pressed into the small of your back, guiding you down as he followed you, never breaking the kiss. The world around you seemed to fade as everything narrowed to just the two of you - his lips on yours, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. His body was warm against yours, and the heat was intoxicating. 

You pulled him closer, your hands threading through his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss. The urgency in his movements matched your own, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your skin. The rhythm of your hearts synchronized again as you moved in perfect harmony, the tension in the air building with every passing second. 

He pulled away for just a moment, his breath coming in quick bursts as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. The heat of the moment hung thick between you, both of you caught in the electricity of the connection. 

“You sure?” His voice was low, gravelly, as if he was trying to make sure you were on the same page, but his hands never stopped exploring, his lips never straying far from yours. 

“Yeah” was all that came out of your mouth, before pulling him in once more. 

======

You woke up to the soft weight of blankets wrapped around you, the familiar warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours. For a split second, it felt like a regular morning - quiet, peaceful. The kind of mornings you’d have after binge watching another season of the Outer Banks. But the details slowly sunk in as your mind came alive. The way his arm was slung over your bare waist. The fact that your legs were tangled beneath the sheets, pressed together in a way they definitely shouldn’t have been. 

You froze. 

The events from the night before began to replay in flashes - the plethora of drinks, the touch of his hand brushing against yours. You hadn’t planned for the night to end like it did, but you let yourself get lost in everything. The kisses he placed on your neck, his low voice in your ear. You both had always danced around this kind of tension, but last night, it was like you couldn’t stop it. It had been inevitable. 

Your chest tightened, and you gently pulled away from him, careful not to wake him. Fortunately, he slept like a rock, and you were able to wiggle out of his grasp and stood without him moving a muscle. 

You stood there for a moment, the quiet of the room wrapping around you as your heart raced. The weight of the situation began to sink in - what had happened between you and Logan was real, and you needed to figure out what you wanted to do about it going forward. 

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to make sense of it all. It was complicated. There was a pull between you - there was no denying that. But what happened last night may have been too much for you. 

Taking a deep breath, you tossed on the Ferrari sweatshirt and sweatpants that were resting on your desk chair and made your way through your apartment to the kitchen. The soft creak of the floorboards under your feet barely made a sound as you moved. You needed space to think, to process. You weren’t sure how things were going to change between you and Logan, but you knew one thing: you had to get out of the in-between thing you had going on with him. 

The steady hum of the coffee maker was oddly comforting as you poured yourself a cup, though your thoughts were anything but still. The warmth of the mug in your hands was a stark contrast to the cold wave of uncertainty that stirred in your mind. You stared into the dark liquid, the aroma doing little to clear the fog in your mind. The night had shifted something between you and Logan, but whether that shift was permanent, or a temporary lapse in judgment, you weren't sure. 

And then there was Max. You thought you had pushed all of your feelings away for that man. Shoved them, along with all of the memories, in a small little closet, never to open. But ever since he sat in your apartment, that door was going to break at any moment. 

You set the mug down, leaning against the counter as your thoughts continued to spiral. Last night had been intoxicating, yes, but in a way that felt more dangerous than thrilling. Logan was your best friend, you couldn’t afford to lose him. As much as you loved the months leading up to the night before, you couldn’t let him break your heart.

And now, there was a chance you would. 

Suddenly, you heard the sound of footsteps from down the hall, slow and tentative. Your heart skipped, and you turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his hair messy, his expression still sleepy but alert. His eyes found yours immediately, and there was an unease in them that mirrored your own. 

“Hey” he said, his voice rough, trying to gauge your mood. “You okay?” 

You nodded slowly, though the uncertainty still lingered in your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.” 

Logan hesitated, and then, as if taking a deep breath, he walked toward you. “Look, about last night…” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out how to approach the situation. You could tell he was trying to tread carefully, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were. 

You picked up your mug again, as if hoping the warmth of the liquid would help with what you had to say, and met his gaze. “Yeah, about that…” your voice faltered for a moment before you steadied yourself. “Logan, I don’t know what to do.”

His eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you for a second. “I don’t know either.” He stepped closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I care about you, and I don’t want things to be weird between us.” 

Somehow, a soft chuckle was the thing that came out of your mouth at his words. “Little too late for that” you said, “I don’t know if we can just pretend everything is fine”

Logan looked at you, his expression shifting to confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice quiet but heavy with concern

You exhaled, feeling the air fall out of your lungs. You didn’t want to hurt him. The last thing you wanted was to make things worse. But last night - it had been a mistake. Everything had felt so right in the moment, in the months leading up to it, but now, in the light of day, it was clear that it was too much. 

“I think… I think we can’t just go back to how things were.” you admitted, your words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’ve had fun the past few months, and loved last night. It’s just… I just don’t think we should continue with it.” 

Logan’s face fell, and for a split second, you saw something in his eyes - hurt, maybe, or disappointment. But it quickly masked itself with an understanding that both stung and comforted you.

“Are you saying you regret it?” he asked, his voice barely audible

You shook your head, “I don’t regret it one bit” you said, hoping that would give some comfort to the American. “I just don’t think all of this was supposed to happen. We’re friends, Logan. I don’t want to lose that, and I don’t want to lose you.” 

His gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he gave a small, resigned nod. “I get it” he said, the words barely there, like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. “I don’t want to lose you either.” 

The silence between you both grew thick, heavy with unspoken feelings, and neither of you seemed to know how to bridge the gap that had opened up.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightened. “I think we just need to go back to being friends. Like we were before.” 

Logan sighed, a mix of frustration and sadness in the sound, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded again, the flicker of pain still there, but there was something else in his eyes now - a flicker of understanding that wasn’t there before. 

“Okay.” he finally said, his voice low. “I can do that.”

The words hung between you two, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It felt like there was a distance between you now that hadn’t been there before. You didn’t know how things would be from here, or if they’d ever go back to the way they were. But deep down, you knew you had to try. 

“I’m sorry” you whispered, your voice barely audible

Logan glanced at you, the corner of his mouth lifting a weak smile. “It’s okay” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t. But that was the problem with mistakes. They couldn’t be erased. 

The rest of the morning passed in a muted silence, and though you both pretended that everything was fine, the air between you felt different. Changed. But at least, for now, you were still friends. And that’s all you could hold onto. 

Spielberg, Austria 

For the first time since you started working with the team, Ferrari wasn’t number one on the Bulls hit list, it was McLaren. So, you, along with the rest of the team, were able to enter the Red Bull Ring with ease. 

You found Isabella and Annalese in the hospitality suite, chatting excitedly over pastries and coffee, one of their phones on the table. Isabella looked up first, her eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “There you are!” she called, waving you over. “We were just talking about you.” 

Ever since you swapped assignments in Melbourne, you and Isabella had started talking more. It had been a rough season between you the year prior, but as you two talked more, you found you two had more in common than you thought. Aside from your shared love of photography, you found out she also paints, just with a paintbrush and canvas. 

“Talking about me, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you sat on the couch next to her. You had come in to look for Carlos and Charles, but the conversation seemed much more interesting than the drivers. 

“Yeah, your episode of Drive to Survive finally came out” Annalease said, glancing down at the phone on the table 

You felt a brief flash of embarrassment, suddenly aware of the attention that your name had drawn. The interview you had done in Austin last season had completely left your mind, until now. Agreeing to do the show had always been a tricky subject, especially when it came to the fact it documented not only the highs and lows of what’s been happening on track, but also painted your personal life and struggles in front of the world. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me” you laughed, trying to brush it off. “It was a… weird experience.” 

Isabella gave you a teasing look, clearly amused. “Weird? You came across great. It was all professional and calm, even when they clearly tried to invade your privacy. I think you looked like a pro.” 

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress a smile with the compliment. “It’s just weird seeing yourself on something like that.” 

Annalese, who had been watching you closely, chimed in. “At least there aren’t any memes being made about you.”

“Yeah, Toto is still living with the aftermath of ‘I have it printed out.’” Isabella chuckled before taking a sip of her drink. 

“True” you said as one of the doors swung open.

The three of you turned to the sound to see Charles leaving one of the meeting rooms. He spotted the three of you almost immediately, a smile on his face as he approached. 

“Or you could be this guy, who doesn’t even need the show to be made fun of” Annalese teased 

The driver’s face dropped as he registered what she had said. “What was that for?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. 

Annalese grinned as she looked at the driver, “Just comforting y/n, she’s worried about her reality TV debut” she said, glancing at you.

“I’m not worried,” you interjected. “I’m just not used to my personal life being aired out for the world to see”

Charles’ face lit up in recognition as he looked at you. “Oh yeah! The episode was really good. We’ve all seen it. You honestly didn’t reveal too much” he said “You handled everything with Max really well.” 

You shot a look at Isabella, checking on her at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Max had been a topic of plenty of conversations before, but each time you felt the need to make sure it was okay to talk about. The photographer gave you a soft smile, nodding to let you know you were in the clear. 

“Yeah, I mean, everything I said in it is true. I still admire the hell out of him, even after everything we’ve been through our entire lives.” you said 

Charles nodded, clearly understanding the complexity of your feelings. “Max has a way of making things… complicated. It’s good that you’ve handled it with so much grace.”

Yeah. Max was the one that made it all complicated. But Max wasn’t the one to run from whatever you two had going on a few years ago. Max wasn’t the first one to slam the door on you two. Max wasn’t the one to hide.

Before you could say anything else, another door flew open, revealing Carlos walking out. You silently thanked the timing of it all, relieved for the interruption. 

“Perfect, I need both of you.” you said, slinging your camera bag over your shoulder as you looked at the two drivers. 

======

Getting in and out of the Red Bull Ring was always chaotic. Crowds swarmed around the track, a sea of orange wherever you looked, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the three time world champion. 

When it wasn’t the fans though, it was the cameras. You could sympathize with them a little bit more, being a photographer and social media creator yourself, but you also couldn’t stand the ones just dying to get into a driver’s business. They’d shove their lenses where they shouldn’t, getting uncomfortably close to personal spaces, all for a shot that would most likely get lost in the sea of other images flooding the internet within minutes. 

It was quali day, and you had just parked at the track. In the distance, you could hear the chatter of people mixed together with the occasional burst of laughter or shouting. Taking a deep breath, you got out of your car, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead. 

You opted to try to enter through the back gate, figuring it wouldn’t be as crowded as the main one. It was a little more out of the way, but you would take the exercise over being mobbed. But as you got to the back gate, you could tell it was going to be a battle. 

Fans, photographers, influencers, and reporters alike swarmed the gate, all in hopes of seeing their idol. You kept your head down as you grabbed your paddock pass out of your pocket, hoping you’d go by unnoticed. 

You approached the gate cautiously, following a few of the Red Bull engineers, as you weaved through the swarm as best you could. As you made your way through the last few people, you accidentally bumped into someone. 

“I’m so sorry” you said, turning to apologize. As you met the gaze of the person, you cursed yourself for doing so. 

The person you had bumped into was a photographer, one infamously known for prying himself into the drivers’ business and spreading it all over the internet. His photos were some of the ones that spread around the rumor about you and Max a few years ago. 

Both of you froze, recognition flashing on the photographer's face as well. His camera was in his hands already, most likely prepped to stick its nose in someone’s drama. 

For a second, the world seemed to slow. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. His finger twitched around the camera, and you could already feel the weight of it - the unmistakable tension of being the subject of his lens. 

Whether you wanted it or not, your sudden stoppage, along with the sound of your voice, drew more attention than just the photographer. Fans had taken notice of your presence, and the buzz around you started to grow. With the Drive to Survive episode just being released, people had you fresh in their minds. 

Cameras flashed and people tried shoving things in your hands - flags, tshirts, pens, their phones - the whole lot. It was overwhelming. You were unaccustomed to the attention - your job always having you in the shadows, being the one creating. 

It felt invasive, and for a moment, you felt completely exposed. The weight of the cameras pressing in on you, the overwhelming noise from the crowd, and the sudden sensation of hands reaching for you felt like an avalanche. 

“Hey!” a familiar voice rang out, causing your head to snap up, but you couldn’t find the source. “Give her room, give her room” 

Through the crowd of people, you could see someone coming toward you, pushing through the crowd. The sea of people parted slightly, and through the shifting mass, you saw Max’s familiar face emerging. He was like a force of nature, moving through the crowd with confidence. 

With one last “move” leaving his mouth, he grabbed your hand, leading you through the crowd. As you passed through the gate, the air on the other side felt calmer. The rush of adrenaline that had coursed through your veins when the crowd had surrounded you started to ebb, and you found yourself taking a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice a little softer than you expected, his eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. 

You nodded, still trying to shake off the last remnants of that suffocating feeling. “Yeah, I’m fine.” you answered, looking down to see your hand still holding Max’s. Slowly, you pulled away. “You didn’t need to do that. I would’ve been fine.” 

“No you wouldn’t have, it was just you against how many people?” he said, shooting you a look but a small smile still on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t walk in with Logan.”

At the sound of his name, your face fell. He was still a tough subject, one you had only told Isabella and Annalese about. 

Max immediately noticed the shift in your expression, the lightness in his voice fading as he took in your sudden change in demeanor. “Did something happen?” he asked, his tone more cautious now.

You hesitated, the weight of Max’s question making your chest tighten. You hadn’t expected him to press, but his concern was genuine, and his eyes softened as he waited for your response. The air felt thick between you, and for a moment, you considered brushing it off. But Max had a way of getting under your defenses, of making you feel like he really wanted to understand. 

“It’s… complicated,” you said, glancing down at the asphalt beneath you for a second. “It ran its course.” 

Max didn’t push any further. Instead, he nodded in understanding, his hand briefly giving your arm a tight squeeze in a way that was somehow more comforting than his words. “I get it,” he said quietly, his voice low. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. Just know that I’m here, alright?” 

You managed a small, appreciative smile, feeling the tension in your body begin to ease. Max never made you feel like you had to explain, didn’t make you feel weak for not having everything figured out. It was nice. 

He continued to walk beside you, his pace slow and steady as if he was giving you the space you needed. “It was the same way with Isabella and I… the relationship just wasn’t what we both thought it would be,” Max continued, his voice still calm, his words measured. “You can only go so long pretending things are fine, when deep down, you know they’re not.” 

You looked over at him, surprised. When Isabella had talked about the ending of the relationship, she said similar things - that it ran its course, there was nothing either of them could really do anymore - but hearing the world champion talk about it was different. It was almost hard to imagine him going through anything similar. But the way he spoke, so matter-of-factly, with no shame or anger, made you feel like it wasn’t as unique as it felt. 

Max continued to yap about his relationship, both trying to fill the silence between you but also give you some sort of comfort without you having to go into details, which you were appreciative of. You had missed how much Max talked, how much he could fill the space with his words, without ever putting any pressure on you. 

The two of you stopped as you reached the facade of the Ferrari motorhome, a comforting silence between you for the first time since you saw him. 

“Thanks, Max” you said, your voice more relaxed than before. “For… not pushing, but also sharing everything with me. It helps more than you realize.” 

He glanced at you and gave a half-smile, the usual cheeky glint back in his eyes. “I told you, I’m here for you.” 

You knew Max wasn’t a fan of physical touch. Ever since you were kids, you knew he loathed when someone would try to hug him, or pat his back when he did a good job. But there, in that moment, all you could do was force your arms around him, your body acting on its own before your mind could catch up. 

For a second, he tensed up, caught off guard by the suddenness of it. But then, just as quickly, he relaxed. He didn’t pull away, didn’t seem uncomfortable, and before you knew it, you could feel his hands on your body as well. 

The warmth of his body against yours, the unexpected comfort in the hug, made something shift in your chest. It wasn’t like you needed saving. But being with Max always made you feel less alone, and that was something you knew you couldn’t take advantage of anymore. 

“I don’t know what to say” you whispered, your face pressed against his shoulder, your voice muffled by his polo. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Max replied softly, his hand rubbing your back. His voice was quieter, much more sincere. “You don’t ever have to explain anything to me. Just know I’m here, always.” 

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your hands still resting on his shoulders as you searched his eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you - no judgment, no pressure - just understanding. 

“Thank you” you said, your voice quieter now as well. “I mean it.” 

Max simply nodded, his gaze softening as he glanced down at you. Suddenly, you remembered his distaste for physical touch, so you moved your hands away from him. 

Your cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. “Sorry about that, I don’t know what came over-” you started 

“You’re fine. I know you needed it” Max interrupted, his voice calm and reassuring. He didn’t seem too bothered by the hug. In fact, there was a certain warmth in his demeanor that made you feel even more at ease. 

The shadow of the Ferrari building rested on the concrete in front of you, a reminder of why you were even in the paddock. The chaos of the weekend all seemed so distant being with Max, that seeing the Ferrari logo sent a jolt of reality back into you. 

You took a step back, glancing back at the building behind you before looking at Max again. “I should probably get back to work.” 

The same realization must’ve hit Max as well, as he cleared his throat and looked up at the red and black facade. 

“Yeah,” Max agreed, his voice almost wistful. He took a half-step back, his hands dropping to his sides though his expression remained soft, like he was holding onto the moment. “Good job, by the way, on the interview for the show.”

The mention of the show caught you off guard. Max was never one to pay attention to the media, especially one that painted him out to be the villain. 

“You watched it?” you asked, curiosity piquing in your voice

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen clips floating around.” he admitted, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a hint of genuine interest. “You handled yourself well, honestly you made everything that went down last year… not so important.” 

While the exact questions that you had been asked in that interview were now far from your memory, you do remember being asked about your relationship with Max, how different it was compared to the other drivers since you knew him so long. It had been a touchy subject, but you spoke with complete honesty, knowing how much of your connection with him was private - something you didn’t want to overshare, but realized you couldn’t completely hide. 

Max’s acknowledgement of it now, though, surprised you. 

“I appreciate that,” you said, a smile playing on your lips. “I wasn’t sure how it would come across, honestly. It’s… complicated, you know?” 

Max gave a knowing nod, his eyes soft but focused. “Trust me, I know. But you didn’t give them more than they needed.” his voice had that same reassuring tone as earlier before he chuckled. “I’m just glad you didn’t make me seem like a complete ass too.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension easing a little more with the humor. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you,” you teased lightly, rolling your eyes. “I care about you too much for that.” 

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really?”

“Really” you replied with a grin, “You might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you’re still one of my closest friends.” 

Max let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I'm not offended by that.” 

“Oh I know” you said playfully before letting out a long sigh. “But I should actually get back to work now.” 

Max chuckled softly. “Go on, I’m sure there’s plenty more to do. But don’t stress too much, yeah?”

“I’ll try not to,” you said, “Thanks again Max. Good luck out there.” 

You watched him walk off for a moment, just like you had for the past two years, before you turned back to the Ferrari motorhome, ready to tackle the rest of the day.

======

The paddock had quieted down as the teams slowly filtered out, the buzz of activity from qualifying hours behind you. Without any additional content to film for the day, you found yourself back in your hotel room earlier than expected, a rare bit of downtime. 

You emerged from the bathroom, steam still hanging in the air, wrapped in your favorite comfy pajama set. Despite the heat outside, your room was chilled to the perfect temperature, giving you an excuse to snuggle up in comfort. 

Normally, after a long day at the track, you’d settle under the covers with a hot cup of tea, diving into editing your photos. But with the last remnants of daylight still spilling through the window, you decided to sit at the desk instead. The view of the town spread out before you, the golden hues of sunset casting a peaceful glow across the streets below. It was the calm you craved, though it didn’t quite settle the restlessness in your mind. 

While Max had done his best to get you out of the crowd and calm you down earlier in the day, the overwhelmingness of it all still haunted your thoughts. The flash of the cameras, the pressure of being surrounded by people, the suffocating feeling of being so exposed. It was an invisible weight you couldn’t shake off. 

You distracted yourself in the best way possible - throwing yourself into your work. Along with the photos from qualifying, you had files of photos from past Grand Prix’s that you never got to edit. The disregarded, B-roll snaps. The ones of the team goofing off, being actually human. The ones that would end up on your photography Instagram and not Ferrari’s.

You scrolled through the gallery, flipping past the perfectly composed shots of drivers in their element and instead landing on the more candid moments. There was one of Carlos and Charles trying to sneak past the media, both of them cracking up, trying to hide behind their oversized sunglasses and floppy hats. Another was of Lando sitting on the edge of the pit wall, yawning and stretching in between stretching in between practice sessions, looking utterly exhausted but still managing a cheeky grin. You smiled softly as you clicked through each of these moments, knowing that while the fans might only see the polished, perfect images, you had the privilege of seeing them as people, not just athletes. 

You began to edit, the familiar routine soothed your fraying nerves. The gentle tapping of your fingers on the keys, the soft click of the mouse, it was grounding in a way nothing else had been all day. A series of photos - Ferrari mechanics huddled together laughing as they shared a joke - was your focus now. You always enjoyed capturing these moments. They were unguarded, full of life and personality. 

As the editing process pulled you further into the flow of work, your thoughts began to settle, the weight of the crowd and the chaos from earlier starting to fade into the background. Time slipped away without you realizing it, until your phone buzzed on the deck in front of you, pulling you out of your concentration. The screen lit up with a message from Charles: Have you seen this?

You furrowed your eyebrows as you picked up your phone, a small flutter of unease forming in your chest. It wasn’t unusual for Charles to send you things, often funny memes - he was chronically online afterall. But there was something about the tone of the message that made you pause. You clicked on the message, half-expecting something lighthearted, but when the link opened, your heart sank. 

It was a post from the photographer. The same one that frequently invaded the drivers’ privacy and shared snippets of the paddock that the general public wasn’t allowed to see. The caption read: CAUGHT IN THE ACT: Max and Ferrari photographer/F1 content creator y/n shared a surprising moment at the Red Bull Ring as Max helped her away from the crowds. Is the Dutchman off the market again?

The image accompanying it was one of you and Max from earlier in the day, when he had pulled you through the crowd. His hand had been around yours, and though you were hardly aware of it at the time, the photo had been perfectly timed, capturing the moment with the two of you caught in the middle of a small laugh. It was innocent enough when you looked at it, but the context added a layer of gossip that neither of you needed. 

Curiosity got the best of you as you scrolled down to the comments, reading everything that everyone had to say. Some fans had already started speculating about a possible relationship, while others were questioning whether there was any truth to the rumors about you and Max from a few years ago. 

You sat back in the chair, massaging your temples, trying to push away the gnawing anxiety that threatened to rise. It was frustrating. You had worked so hard to carve out your own space in the F1 world, to be known for your skills and your work, not for your relationships. And here you were, once again caught in the glare of a spotlight you never asked for. 

The devil on your shoulder whispered in your ear to run. Cut Max off again so you’d never have to deal with shit like this again. 

You shook your head, as though trying to physically dislodge the thought. Cutting Max off had seemed like a viable solution once before, back when the rumors had first started circling a few years ago. The weight of constant attention, the unwanted speculations - it had been too much then. But Max hadn’t been the one who had caused that strain. It was the situation, the pressure, and the way everything had spiraled out of control. You hadn’t wanted to lose that connection with him, but it had been a protective instinct, one you couldn’t quite ignore in that moment of panic. 

But now… now things were different. You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was Max. 

You exhaled sharply, staring at the screen in front of you, the comments still scrolling endlessly below the post. It was hard to ignore the pull of curiosity, but each new comment made the knot in your stomach tighten. There were even a few insults mixed in, questioning your motives, accusing you of using Max for attention. 

This wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t in this for the drama. You didn’t care about the headlines, about being in the center of the gossip. You cared about the work, about capturing the moments that mattered, about the people behind the helmets and the brands. 

But the reality of the world you had stepped into meant that everything could be turned into a story. Even the smallest moments, like a laugh shared with a friend, could be twisted and misinterpreted. 

Your phone buzzed again, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. Another message from Charles: Are you okay? Let me know if you want to talk. 

You blinked, the words settling in a bit more. Charles had always been kind, always trying to help you navigate the chaos of life in the paddock. But the last thing you wanted was for him to feel like he had to protect you, or worse, get caught up in the drama. He had enough on his plate already. 

I’m fine. Just a bit overwhelmed, you know? You typed back, staring at the screen before pressing send. It’s just the way this stuff gets out of hand so quickly. I appreciate you checking in though.

The message sent, but your phone felt heavier in your hand than it had moments before. You stared at the screen, the buzzing of notifications a constant reminder that you weren’t in control here. 

The temptation to shut everything out, to disconnect, was powerful. But running away from the noise didn’t stop it from following you. You needed to keep moving forward. This wasn’t the first time you’d faced something like this, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Still, the thought of dealing with the backlash - online and possibly in person - was enough to make you want to crawl under the covers and forget about everything for the rest of the night. 

Instead, you clicked on the next photo to edit, your fingers moving methodically as you lost yourself in the familiar task again. This was your element. Behind the lens. In the background. Not the subject, not the story. Just the creator. 

Monza, Italy

Monza was one of your favorite tracks. Regardless of your contractual obligations to like it because your employer was Ferrari, you loved the history, the speed, and the fact it was a beautiful track to photograph. 

You, Isabella, Charles and Carlos were on track walks as the morning sun cast long shadows on the tarmac. The boys were in deep conversation with their engineers about the differences in the track from last year, while you and Isabella walked several feet behind them, capturing them in the action. 

You raised your camera to snap a picture of Charles, his figure framed perfectly against the towering grandstands in the distance. He was talking intently to his engineer, gesturing to one of the corners, and his face was etched with concentration. Carlos, not too far ahead, was listening attentively, his posture relaxed but his attention unwavering. They looked so in sync with the track, every move purposeful and deliberate, just like the machines they commanded. 

A few of the other drivers were doing their walk as well. Valtteri had already lapped you guys once or twice pedaling around on his bike, looking far more relaxed than you’d expect before a race weekend. Pierre and his engineer were also far ahead of the Ferraris, their pace much quicker than your group. It always amazed you how every driver had their own approach to each track. 

It wasn’t long into your walk that you heard the sound of a familiar lisp behind you. You turned your head, your gaze falling on none other than Max himself. To your side, you could see Isabella’s camera clicking away at the boys in front of you, completely oblivious to the sight behind. 

Max was talking GP’s ears off, the topics most likely ranging from everything to nothing. Out of habit, you raised your camera once more, getting shots of the duo in their natural habitat. Max must’ve heard you, because his gaze flicked over, a playful grin on his face. 

“Trying to avoid me?” he asked, his voice teasing

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not at all,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but laugh as you raised your camera slightly. “Just doing my job.” 

The two of you returned your attention to what you had been focused on prior to the interaction. You were about to chime in on Charles’ conversation, but before you could, Isabella whispered. 

“What is going on between you and Max?” she asked 

Your eyes widened for a moment, her question catching you off guard. There was something going on between the two of you, you just didn’t think Isabella was the right person to tell, after her history with him. 

“I-” you started, trying to find the right words. “There’s nothing going on. Max and I go way back. It’s complicated.” 

The look that Isabella gave you showed that she could see right through you. “Oh come on. I’m not stupid. He dragged you out of the crowd in Austria, and I see the way you two look at each other.” she said. “If you’re worried I’m gonna be mad because Max and I dated, I’m not.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by her directness. The tightness that had been slowly building in your chest instantly disappeared, and you couldn’t help but to feel a bit more exposed. 

“Yeah, I mean um…” you began, not sure if you were ready to come to terms with the ideas floating in your head. You glanced over your shoulder one last time to ensure that Max was way out of earshot. “I may still have feelings for Max again.” 

Isabella raised an eyebrow, her expression slightly softening as she took in your words. She didn’t look shocked or judgmental - just curious, like she’d expected this at some level. It was hard to tell if it was because she knew you well enough or if it was her own history with Max that made the situation feel less complicated for her. 

“I had a feeling.” she began, her voice calm. “And I can tell that he still has feelings for you too.” 

Your head cocked slightly, curiosity flooding through. “How do you know?” 

Isabella took a deep breath, and just like you had moments earlier, turned to make sure Max was out of range. “Before we broke up, I saw him lurking on your socials - nothing crazy, just looking to see what you were up to, like he missed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at Isabella’s words. The idea of Max keeping an eye on your socials, even after everything that had happened between you two, hit you harder than you’d expected. It made sense in a way - Max had always been a little hard to read, but that subtle action… it felt personal. It felt like something more than just idle curiosity. 

“He was?” you asked, your voice quieter than you had intended. Hearing it come from Isabella of all people made your head spin. 

Isabella nodded slowly, her eyes softening even more as she gave you a sympathetic look. “Yeah. Again, not in a creepy way or anything - more like he was just checking in. He’d always been interested in what you were up to. He’d ask us how you were even when things between you and I were … rocky.” 

You swallowed, unsure whether you were relieved or confused by the information. Did this mean Max had been silently holding onto something? Had he always felt this way, or was it a recent development? The thought of him lingering in the background of your life like that - no matter how subtle - stirred something within you.

“I-I’m sorry” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them

Isabella gave you a small, reassuring smile, as if she understood the confusion in your voice. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said gently, her tone still calm. “I’m not upset, really. I just think Max has been… uncertain about a lot of things. You know he doesn’t do well with vulnerability.” 

The sound of Max’s voice reached you then, breaking the moment between you and Isabella. He was still talking with GP, but you could see the playful glint in his eyes as he gestured animatedly about something. Even from this distance, it was clear that the pull between you two was still there, unspoken but undeniable. 

======

What also was undeniable was a missing presence in the paddock. While you and Logan hadn’t explicitly talked since he was in your apartment in Monaco, you two would usually wave to each other when passing by in the paddock. 

Your mind began to race with all sorts of thoughts, questioning if he had been around and you had just missed him. But something in you knew you didn’t, the blue Williams shirt he always wore on media day stood out like a sore thumb. 

You tried to brush it off, telling yourself maybe he was busy with his team or caught up in a meeting, but something kept tugging at your gut, urging you to look closer. It wasn’t like Logan to completely disappear. You could see drivers, engineers, mechanics, and other staff members move about the paddock, focused on their tasks, yet Logan’s absence was still obvious in its silence. 

“Have you guys seen Logan?” you asked Annalese and Charles as you walked into Ferrari hospitality. 

Annalese and Charles exchanged knowing glances as you stopped in front of them. Their facial expressions ranged, as if they were silently arguing. 

“You haven’t heard?” Charles asked 

You shook your head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Heard what?” 

Annalese shifted uncomfortably, her hands gripping the edge of her cup as she glanced between you and Charles, the silence hanging heavily between you all. Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair, and finally spoke up. 

“Logan isn’t on the grid anymore.” Charles finally said, “He got dropped on Tuesday.” 

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. “Dropped?” you repeated, the word feeling foreign in your mouth as the shock began to settle in. “Why?” 

Annalese exchanged another glance with Charles, her face grim. “Obviously we don’t know everything that’s going on over there.” she said softly, as though she didn’t want to be the one giving you the news. “But Williams decided to part ways with him after everything that’s been happening. It just… wasn’t working out.”

Your heart raced, your mind trying to process what they were saying. While you and Logan hadn’t been on speaking terms for a few months, you knew he had always been so focused, so dedicated to the team. He’d been through a lot over the past year and a half, but you never imagined it would come to this. You thought he was pushing through. You thought he would find his way. 

You thanked the duo for the information before you made your way up the stairs to one of the lounges. The lounge was empty, which you were silently thankful for. You don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to talk to anyone. 

As you laid down on the couch, thoughts of Logan filled your head. He was probably back in his apartment in the UK, cleaning it out, prepping to move. Or he had already done all that and was on a flight back to the States. Regardless, your heart grew heavy thinking of having to face everything on his own. 

You thought about reaching out, offering a shoulder to cry on if needed. But he wasn’t the one who broke the news to you - Charles and Annalese had. And they probably found out about it from an Instagram post with the word breaking in all caps and bold at the top. 

It wasn’t your place to invade. 

Even if you did reach out, you didn’t know what you would say. Sorry you got dropped? That felt hollow, insufficient. How could you convey the regret you were feeling for not being there when he needed someone the most? How could you fix the distance between you two, which had been growing for months? 

You opted for a way that only you knew how. 

You spent way too much time digging through your camera roll to find a collection of photos of Logan. Professional snapshots of him driving on track, walking around the paddock, but also personal ones, like the trip you had taken to the White Cliffs of Dover, or the goofy photos of him trying to paint like you. The photos were arranged into a collage before you uploaded it as an Instagram story, adding the caption Missing you in the paddock. 

It was small, but a way to acknowledge the void left by his absence, a silent message that you still cared, that you hadn’t forgotten him despite everything. 

As you uploaded the story, your thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to tag him. You hesitated, thinking that maybe it would seem too much, too soon. But then, in an almost impulsive decision, you tagged his handle, before quickly pulling your finger away from the screen.

The olive branch had been extended. It was up to him whether or not he wanted to accept it. 

======

Most of the weekend was spent trying to forget about the Logan news. You tried not to check your phone obsessively, to avoid waiting for a response that may never come. But each time you thought about it, a part of you felt like you were holding your breath. 

For better or for worse, you were by yourself during the race, out along the barriers trying to capture photos of the team. Each time the blue Williams car drove by, you’d find yourself slightly smiling, only for it to drop when you saw the number forty-three attached to it. 

Fortunately, with each lap that passed, your pity party turned into a rush of adrenaline. You knew Charles, as well as the entire Ferrari team, wanted to win at their home race. And you knew they were all crazy enough to do whatever it took to get there. 

The race seemed to go on forever, as Charles dominated the field. He was well ahead of either McLaren, and showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. 

It was then that you caught a glimpse of Max’s car speeding by - your thoughts immediately drifting to him. Despite everything going on in front of you, you couldn’t escape the pull of the memories you had with him and the fact he had been stalking you on social media. Your stomach fluttered for a brief second before you shook your head and snapped another photo, trying to focus on the race once more. 

As the laps left moved down to the single digits, you hopped in the golf cart to get to the pit wall before the chequered flag was waved. 

You pressed up against the wire fencing, hoping to capture each car as they passed through the final laps. You could feel the tension rising not just from the team, but from the grandstands, hoping for that long awaited home victory. 

And when that chequered flag waved, Charles was the first one over the finish line. 

Your camera captured Charles, the team, and the grandstands at lightning speed. Every angle you could take, you did. This is what the fans had waited five years for. 

The podium and the celebrations that followed late into the night were a blur. Just like in Monaco, the entire town came alive from the victory. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. 

But as you finally got into bed that night, your head doing cartwheels from the amount you had to drink, your mind wandered to Logan and Max. You hoped that the American was okay, and that the Dutchman would finally man up and make a move. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The coffee dates you had started with Max earlier in the season slowly turned into meeting up with each other whenever you could, no matter the time of day. Whether it was you playing with his cats as he exercised out on his balcony, or him watering your plants in the background of your Zoom meetings, you guys would always make time for each other. 

It felt easy, comfortable - like the two of you had fallen into a rhythm that neither of you anticipated but both of you were secretly grateful for. The spontaneity of it all was both exciting and calming. One moment, you’d be in a rush, prepping for a shoot or editing photos late into the night, and next, you’d get a message from Max, asking if you had time to talk. 

The racing calendar had prompted for a three week break, allowing you and Max some well needed rest at home. Max had brought the cats over to your apartment, and he was playing with them in the living room as you were preparing dinner for the two of you. The sound of Jimmy’s meows mixed with Max’s occasional laugh as he jumped on his lap, swatting at the toy you had set up earlier. Sassy was perched on your cabinet, watching you as you made pasta. 

“I swear she loves you more than she does me” Max called from the living room as he watched Sassy perched on the cabinet, her eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

You chuckled softly, stirring the pasta boiling in the pot. “It’s probably the pasta” you teased, glancing over your shoulder to find Max grinning. “She knows good food when she sees it.” 

Max shook his head dramatically. “She’s such a traitor.” he muttered, though his voice was light with amusement. “Have you thought about getting a pet?”  

You pondered the question for a moment, “Maybe…” you trailed off back into thought. “I just don’t know if I’d have time for one, with all the traveling, you know?” 

Max nodded, “I get that. It’s tough leaving these two all the time.” he said as Jimmy snuggled up in his arms. “But if you were to get one, what would you name it?” 

“I wouldn’t name them after clubs in Monaco, that’s for sure” you teased before tilting your head slightly, letting the question hang in the air for a moment. “Knowing me, I’d name it after an artist, like Donatello or something.” 

“An artist or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?” Max chuckled 

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, your phone ringer dinged, signalling you got a text. Your eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for any sign of your phone, only for it to be resting on the coffee table in the living room. 

“Can you check and see who it is? I don’t wanna miss it if it’s work related.” You asked

Max nodded, reaching for your phone. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed at the screen in his hands. Max’s fingers paused for a moment as he read the message, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to something more unreadable. You noticed his lips pressed into a thin line, his relaxed demeanor now clouded with a hint of concern. He didn’t say anything for a beat, just kept staring at the screen. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked, the sudden silence between you two unsettling. 

Max didn’t immediately respond. He looked up at you, then back down at the phone, as if weighing something in his mind. “It’s… Logan,” he said finally, his voice careful.

Your stomach dropped at the mention of Logan’s name. You hadn’t heard from him since that morning in your apartment, and the thought of him now, unexpectedly, made your pulse race a little faster. 

Max’s reaction made sense now. During one of your late night chats, you had filled him in on what happened with you and Logan. You could tell he was mad how Logan handled you while both of you were intoxicated, despite how the American treated you when sober. 

Max’s eyes stayed on you as you absorbed the news, clearly trying to gauge your reaction. ‘Do you want me to read it?” he asked, his voice gentle. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before walking over to where Max was in the living room. “No, I’ll look at it,” you said quietly, trying to sound steady. You needed to be in control of this, no matter how much it made your stomach churn.

“Hey, I saw your post a few weeks ago. Just wanted to let you know I have an IndyCar test with MSR in November.” 

The message on your phone seemed innocuous at first, just a simple update, but something about it made your stomach tighten.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the words, not sure how to process the sudden shift. It was strange - Logan had always been a mix of casual and serious when it came to racing, but this felt different. The way he was reaching out now, after so long, felt distant in a way. 

You took a slow breath and glanced over at Max, who was watching you closely. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything, but his expression spoke volumes - caution, concern, and perhaps even a hint of frustration. The silence between you felt heavy, like a quiet storm waiting to pass. 

Max spoke first, breaking the tension. “So… is he just checking in?” His voice was guard, but you could hear the underlying hint of something deeper - protectiveness, maybe?

You shook your head, trying to shake off the swirling in your head. “I don’t know what it is, honestly. He’s been quiet for so long…” you began, running a hand through your hair. “I know I left the door open for him to reach out, but it’s just odd that he popped up the second he had another test lined up. Like he wants me to see how much better I am without him.” 

Max remained silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving you, as if trying to decipher what you were feeling. “Do you think he’s trying to make you feel guilty?” he asked, considering the scenario from all angles. 

Immediately, you shook your head, dismissing the idea. “No, he’s not the kind of guy to do that.”

Max nodded slowly, though his expression didn’t shift. “Got that. Maybe he’s testing the waters to see if you’re still willing to have him in your life?” 

“Maybe?” you questioned. “I made it clear that I only wanted to be friends with him that morning.”

“I know you did,” he said, shifting up straighter, careful not to wake the cat that had fallen asleep in his lap. “You don’t have to respond. And if you do, let it be on your terms. Don’t let him pull you back into that uncertainty.” 

The sincerity in his voice lifted a weight off your shoulders. Just like he did in Spielberg, he managed to pull you out of your thoughts and back down to earth. 

“You’re right.” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

“Of course,” he said, a smile on his face as he got up from his spot on the floor. He set Jimmy, who was still sound asleep, on your couch before moving towards the kitchen. “But if you do decide to reach out or talk to him again, I’m here, okay? No judgments. Just… you.” 

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

He gave you a teasing grin as he grabbed a plate from the cupboard. “Now, about dinner - if you’re done having your crisis, I’m ready to eat. I was promised pasta, not a therapy session.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved to grab the bottle of wine on the counter. “Right.” 

======

As the night went on, so did the glasses of wine. Dinner had long been eaten, and the dishes were cleaned up. You and Max stood out on your balcony, watching over the Monaco harbor, glasses of wine in your hands. The city lights twinkled below, reflecting off the water, creating a peaceful hum that matched the evening. The cats were inside, both entertained by the new scratching post you had set up for them. 

Max leaned up against the railing next to you, the breeze moving in a way that let you get a whiff of his cologne. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the view. He had a thoughtful look on his face, the one that always made you curious about what he was thinking. 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, unable to stop yourself

Max didn’t immediately respond. He gave a small shrug, still looking over the harbor. “I don’t know.” he said eventually, his voice low, like he was still thinking through whatever had been on his mind. “Just… everything.” 

You took a sip of your wine, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat, giving you a moment to think. It was clear that his thoughts weren’t about everything, or everyone. 

“Are you still thinking about Logan?” you finally asked 

Max’s head turned slightly at your question, his gaze shifting from the harbor to you, but again, he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he followed in your footsteps and took a long sip of his wine, his eyes lingering on the glass for a second before meeting yours. 

“It’s hard not to, right?” He asked, “You’ve got a lot of history with him.” 

You could feel the weight of his words, the implication that what happened between you and Logan still lingered in the air, unspoken but present. Your stomach tightened a little, and you didn’t know it was because of Max’s casual mention of Logan, or the fact you had asked a question you weren’t sure you were ready to answer yourself.

“I know” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now. “I know you’re looking out for me, but like I said, Logan was a mistake. If I were to reply to him, it would be as friends.” 

You don’t know what came over you next. Maybe it was the liquid courage in your veins, or maybe it was the fact that the confession was going to kill you unless you told him, but you continued to talk. 

“I also made another mistake, Max” you admitted, looking down at the liquid swirling in your glass before you met his gaze once again, coming to terms that you were going to confess. “I should have never ran away from you years ago.” 

Max was quiet for a long moment, the only sound the soft rustling of the breeze and the distant hum of the city below. You couldn’t help but watch his reaction, trying to gauge if your words had landed in the way you intended. The confession felt raw, more than you had intended, but it was out now, hanging between the two of you like a fragile thing that could shatter at the slightest touch. 

Max’s lips pressed together for a second, and he turned his gaze back to the water. You couldn’t tell if he was processing your words, or just avoiding looking at you. The silence stretched on, and you began to regret everything you’d just said. Maybe it was too much. Maybe he didn’t need to hear it. 

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” Max finally spoke, his voice much softer now. “I know you had your reasons for what you did back then, and I have my reasons for how I reacted. But I think we’re both adult enough to move past it.” 

You felt a weight lift off your chest, though it was still tinged with uncertainty. His words weren’t an immediate fix, but they offered a glimmer of reassurance. You had expected judgment, maybe even a withdrawal from him, but instead, he was speaking with a level of understanding you hadn’t anticipated. 

“I didn’t want to run away from us” you added, your voice barely a whisper, the truth of the moment still biting at you. The post from Spielberg flashed in your mind. “I think I was just… scared. I didn’t know how to handle everything that was happening, with you and with me. It wasn’t just about us. It was everything.” 

Max glanced at you then, his eyes softening, the earlier tension in his posture easing. “You don’t have to explain. We were both young and dealing with things we didn’t know how to handle,” he said, his voice calm, almost like a quiet comfort. “I saw the posts too.” 

“You did?” you asked, your head tilting slightly. It was unlike him to pay attention to the gossip and the rumors. 

“I’m on social media a lot more than you think.” he chuckled, his tone lighter than it had been before.

“Oh I know, I heard you kept tabs on me when we weren’t talking.” you teased, nudging your elbow into his side.

Max let out a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. “Guilty as charged,” he said with a smirk. “But I never commented or liked anything. Just… well, you know, checking in now and then.” His expression softened again as he added, “I wasn’t stalking, just… curious.” 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood light, but part of you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by the thought. “Curious about what, exactly?” you asked, teasing but with an edge of vulnerability in your voice. 

Max took another sip of his wine before responding, his tone thoughtful. “Curious if you’d figured things out. Curious if you’d be okay. And, if I’m honest, curious if we’d ever talk again.” He turned to face you more fully, his eyes serious but still warm. “I didn’t want to push. I didn’t know what you needed, or if you needed anything from me at all.” 

He took a step closer to you as he kept talking. “And when you left, I thought I needed to get over you, to move on. I didn’t specifically pick Isabella because she was close to you. I did it just because she was there that night. And then for a good while, it seemed you had everything figured out. You had Logan, and I felt like I messed up my chances with you.”

You felt a pang in your chest as Max spoke, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. You hadn’t expected him to open up like this, to share what had been on his mind all these years. 

You swallowed, your grip on your wine glass tightening slightly. “I didn’t think you needed to get over me,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his. “I thought you moved on.” 

Max shook his head, his gaze steady on you. “It wasn’t that simple. I told myself I needed to, but I couldn’t. I tried to convince myself I was fine, but… I wasn’t. I just didn’t know how to reach out to you again after everything that happened.” 

His words struck a chord deep inside you. It was strange to hear that he’s been in pain too, that the distance between you hadn’t been something you’d imposed on yourself. 

“Max, I’m sorry… I never meant to -” you began

“Schat, you don’t need to apologize. We’re both past it.” he interrupted, though his voice was still soft. “I think it’s now a matter of where do we go from here?” 

“That depends,” you said, turning to him, “What do you want?” 

Max paused, his expression softening as he processed your question. His eyes locked onto yours, his lips parting slightly as though he were carefully weighing his words. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to say, and you were perfectly set on the offer. 

“I want to make things right.” he said. “I don’t want to keep wondering what could have been.” 

You felt your heart race, the intensity of the moment sweeping over you like a tidal wave. It felt like everything you’d both been holding back, all the years of uncertainty and unspoken words, were finally coming to a head. 

“I don’t want to wonder either,” you admitted, your voice quieter, yet much more certain. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

“Then let’s see where this goes,” he said as he stepped closer to you, his body language open and vulnerable. “Together.” 

The words settled in the space between you, hanging there, like an invitation that was too simple, too perfect to refuse. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the kind that made everything feel right again, like you were exactly where you were meant to be. 

You stepped closer to him, closing the distance until you could feel the faint beat of his heart, both of you drawn together. 

Without another word, Max cupped your face with his free hand, and kissed you. It was soft at first, tentative, like both of you were finally allowing yourselves to feel what had been buried for so long. But then, as if the years past melted away, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more real. The taste of wine lingered between you, but the meaning of the kiss was much more intoxicating than the drinks prior. 

When you pulled back, breathless but smiling, you both lingered in the moment, eyes locked, hearts still racing. Max’s forehead rested against yours, as you spoke. 

“So how about we celebrate with a batch of cookies?” you asked knowing you had refilled your cookie jar for him. 

“It’s like you read my mind” he chuckled as he took your hand, leading you back into the familiarity of your apartment. 

São Paulo, Brazil

Brazil was wet. 

The amount of rain that had fallen from the sky was borderline monsoon level. Every step you took was filled with the squelch of water in your socks and shoes. The normally buzzing paddock was now silent as team members huddled in their motorhomes and garages waiting for the go ahead to start qualifying. 

You and Isabella had tried to keep busy, as well as the fans engaged, by snapping photos and forcing some of the engineers into videos. But no matter how many artistic snapshots of raindrops you took or insane mini mic questions you asked, the two of you repeatedly ended up taskless.

The two of you found yourselves in the hospitality suite that overlooked the pitlane, sitting at the window as you watched the rain fall. In the ten or fifteen minutes you had been there, you’d already seen Kimi Antonelli be pushed out into the pouring rain and a few Williams engineers race rubber duckies. 

You leaned your head against the glass, watching the chaos below, feeling a strange mix of boredom and amusement. The unpredictability of it all - cars that should have been speeding down the straights now parked and idle - felt like a strange world.

“Have you heard from Logan at all?” Isabella asked as she stared at the Williams engineers down below, dragging you out of your thoughts.

The phone in your pocket grew heavier as you straightened up slightly, hesitating to answer the question. While you had filled her in about everything with Max, you failed to give her one minor detail.

“Uh yeah, I actually did. A few weeks ago.” You admitted, “He’s doing some testing with an IndyCar team sometime this month. Not really sure. I didn’t reply.” 

Isabella raised an eyebrow at your words, her gaze shifting from the engineers below to you, a knowing look forming. “You didn’t reply?” she repeated slowly, her words laced with curiosity.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I didn’t know what to say” you admitted, trying to defend your decision. “And plus, I was a little occupied with Max.”

“You made things official with Max the same day Logan texted you?” she asked, shock now coming into her words. 

A sigh escaped your lips as the weight of the conversation pressed down on you. “I didn’t plan it that way.” you explained, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “It just… kind of happened. It wasn’t like I was purposefully avoiding Logan or anything, I just didn’t know how to respond.”

Isabella remained silent for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your words. The silence hung between you for a moment, the rain outside intensifying, the sound of it hammering against the windows in the otherwise quiet room. 

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked after a beat, her tone softer but still inquisitive. “Because if I recall correctly, you gave him the opportunity to reach out, and he did.” 

“You’re right” you said, running a hand through your wet hair. “But I don’t even know how to bring it up. I can’t just text him and act like nothing’s changed. I don’t wanna string him along.” 

“You owe it to him,” Isabella said, her tone gentle but firm. “And to yourself, to be honest. He deserves to know where you stand, even if it’s awkward.” 

Her eyes lingered on you, hinting that she wanted you to reply now. Slowly, you took your phone out of your pocket and unlocked the device. 

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You could feel Isabella’s gaze on you, her silent encouragement urging you on to take the plunge. The weight of the conversation, of everything left unsaid, pressed down on you. Logan deserved more than this silence. 

With one last deep breath, you typed out the message that had been swirling in your head for the last few weeks. 

Hey, congrats on the test, hoping it goes well. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, I’ve been busy with work. 

You read it over once, then twice. It felt right - congratulating him on his accomplishment while not seeming too overboard. You figured it wouldn’t be great to bring up Max quite yet, but you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever. So, you added: 

I’ve been meaning to let you know where I am, and things have changed a bit on my end. I’ve started seeing someone else, but like I’ve said multiple times, I’m always open to being friends. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit send. 

Isabella watched as you set the phone down, the tension still in the air between you. “It’s done.” she said quietly, her voice reassuring. 

“I hope I didn’t make things worse” you replied, your gaze flicking nervously to the phone on the table, waiting for a response. 

Minutes passed, and just as you were starting to second-guess yourself, the phone buzzed.

Yeah I get it, I appreciate the honesty. I’m happy for you, but you should know I don’t wanna throw away that friendship. 

You read the message out loud, prompting a smile on Isabella’s face. “See? Not so bad, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah. It was fine.” you said, rolling your eyes, but still forming a small smile on your face. 

======

For the first time since you started working in Formula 1, a super Sunday was on the table. The incredulous amounts of rain pushed qualifying to Sunday morning, prompting an early wake up for everyone. Texting with Logan had made things a bit better, the two of you had been chatting back and forth nonstop since you finally replied. 

You could already hear the sounds of drill guns and dremels in the distance as the teams prepped for the rescheduled qualifying session. The rain had been relentless, but now, under the early morning light, the drizzle had calmed just enough to let everyone get back to business. The Celcius in your hand was enough to get you started in the morning, but you knew you needed a second wind later in the day. 

As you passed by Ferrari’s hospitality to get to the garage, the familiar Red Bull logo loomed over you. The temptation was strong, and for a brief moment, you thought about slipping into the blue building. You could grab a can without anyone noticing. But then you remembered you did have a commitment to Ferrari, and you couldn’t be caught repping another team. 

Instead, you took another sip of your Celsius, and with a deep breath, you walked straight to the bright red garage. 

Both Ferrari cars did as well as they could in the crappy conditions. No one in the paddock was having a good time, especially Max. While he had qualified twelfth, he was pushed back to seventeenth due to his combustion engine being changed. 

As the race went underway, it was as chaotic as you could have imagined it. Water had pooled into places no one ever expected, and seemed to throw everyone off of their game except Max.

Growing up, you knew Max was going to succeed in the most challenging conditions. In grade school you would overhear him telling stories about how he was out karting all day in the rain and snow, going until he felt more than comfortable. You thought it was absurd, risking frostbite and illness for a career he wasn’t even sure he would get. But watching him now, claw back from seventeenth, in these miserable conditions, it all made sense. 

Max was the first one to cross the finish line, leading to a roaring celebration from your garage neighbors. You felt a strange, bittersweet joy wash over you as you snapped the photos of Charles finishing in fifth. You couldn’t help but to be proud of your boyfriend, it was his race from start to finish. A flawless performance that left the rest of the grid in his wake. 

As Carlos had crashed earlier in the race, once Charles crossed the finish line, you made your way back to the garage, planning to prepare for the interviews. You were fiddling with the mini mic when Isabella approached you. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, causing you to look up. 

You blinked for a moment, processing her question. “Uh, prepping for Charles’ post race stuff.” you said as if it was obvious. 

“Don’t you wanna go see the podium?” she asked, the roar from the crowd in the distance signalled that the top three had parked in parc ferme. 

“It’s okay, I don’t have to. There’s work that needs to be done.” you replied, scanning the area to see if Charles had returned yet. 

Isabella furrowed her eyebrows “You don’t want to see Max? Especially after that drive?” 

You shrugged in response. “I’ll see him on the flight back” you answered. The two of you had already arranged plans for you to join him on his jet. 

Isabella looked at you like you were the hardest math problem she’s ever had to solve. “Go to the podium,” she ordered. “You always covered for me when I ran off. I got Charles’ stuff.” 

She walked over to where you were, taking the mini mic and all of its wiring from you. Before you could open your mouth to protest, she glared at you again. “Go!” 

Without another word spoken between you two, you darted out of the garage and down the pitlane to where the celebrations were. The adrenaline from the race still lingered in the air as the teams waited for their drivers to come out. Alpine was on one side, and Red Bull on the other. 

All three drivers had gone to the cooldown room when you arrived. You opted to stay towards the back of the crowds, hoping and praying that no one would question what you were doing there. While you both had told family and a few friends about your relationship, it hadn’t been made completely public yet. You wanted to enjoy the beginnings of it out of the public eye and the scrutiny. 

Pierre and Esteban looked thrilled as they took their places on the podium, flashing wide smiles and quite literally jumping for joy. Rightfully deserved, of course. You could hear their names being chanted, their team and fans rallying behind them. But the atmosphere shifted slightly as Max stepped out. 

The crowd’s roar somehow grew even louder, and you could see his trademark smile lighting up his face as he made his way to the top step. The drive would surely go down in history, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell inside as you watch his raw emotion to finally getting another win.  

A smile broke onto your face as you heard the Dutch national anthem for the first time in months. It was hard to believe that a short year ago you were wishing to never hear it again, even if it was for your own country. But there you stood in the crowd, quietly singing along. 

During the anthem, Max’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching for something. When his gaze met yours, hidden in the shadows of the celebrations, he relaxed. The smile that was already plastered on his face grew a tad wider as you waved. Nothing flashy, nothing too overt, just a brief shared moment that only the two of you would truly understand. 

While Red Bull wasn’t your team, Max sure as hell was your driver. 

======

You were thankful that Max’s plane had taken off in the late morning the next day. As much as you loved getting back home sooner rather than later, the rest was well deserved after a late night of celebrations. 

The two of you sat next to each other, the hum of the engines filling the quiet space between you. You were both exhausted, but the thought of Max now within a race reach of winning the championship planted in your minds, neither of you could rest.

A piece of paper that had every angle of a blank helmet printed on it sat in front of Max while you had your laptop out on a 3D editing software. Both of you were running through ideas for his champion helmet. Max had a gold colored pencil in his hand coloring away on the paper while the occasional click of your keyboard brought his visions to life. 

“I think it’s missing something,” he said, glancing at the rendering on your screen. “Like it looks good as is, but I think it could be better.” 

You glanced at Max, seeing the way he was biting his lip as he stared at the paper in front of him, deep in thought. The gold pencil in his hand was worn down from the hours he’d spent perfecting every detail, but it was clear he wasn’t satisfied. 

“I agree” you said, zooming in on the 3D model. The white and the gold looked good together, but they lacked that extra spark that would tie it all together. 

“What if we added some sparkles to the gold?” He suggested, his eyes wide with curiosity to see what that would look like. 

With a few clicks of your keyboard and taps on the screen, you added a glitter effect to the gold in the helmet. 

Max’s eyes lit up. “Whoa. That’s sick.” 

You stared at the screen, happy with the improvement that was made, but you felt like you could do even better. “What if we added something to the white?” you suggested as you clicked away a bit more. “I can completely undo this if you decide you don’t like it.” 

You watched Max’s reaction closely as you filled some of the white areas with gold marble on the 3D rendering. The effect was subtle but impactful, adding a depth and shine that made the design feel even more dynamic. 

Max’s eyebrows raised slightly, clearly impressed. “That… that’s actually perfect,” he said, almost in disbelief. 

“I’m glad you like it.” you said, brushing your fingers over the touchpad, making small adjustments to the way the gold marbling flowed. “It needed something to balance out the glitter, and I think it brings everything together.” 

“It definitely does.” he said before going quiet again, his head tilted slightly as if he was deep in thought. “Would you wanna design my champion logo?” 

You looked up from the laptop, surprised by his question. “The championship logo?” you repeated, unsure you heard him correctly. 

Max nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the paper, his eyes distant as he thought it over. “Yeah, you know how I’ve had a logo for every championship I’ve won. I want you to design this years. Something that symbolizes the achievement.” 

You blinked a few times, processing his request. The idea of designing something so symbolic for Max was exciting, but also incredibly intimidating. The pressure was higher than with the helmet design - it wasn’t just a visual statement for the race; it was a symbol of part of his career, his hard work, his journey through the season. 

Max could see the hesitation in our face. He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk creeping onto his lips as he gently nudged you. “What? You’re not up for the challenge?” 

You shook your head quickly, the excitement already bubbling up inside of you. “No, no. I’m up for it. It’s just a big task. Haven’t done something like that since the Monza livery my first year.” 

“And that livery is why I think you’ll be perfect for it.” he said, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into him as best as he could in the plane seat.  

You felt your heart race at his words. The Monza livery was a piece you had poured your heart and soul into when you first started with Ferrari, and Max was with you through every step of designing it and bringing it to life. For him to reference it years later made you feel both proud and incredibly humbled. Creating something big for him felt like a huge honor. 

“I mean… if you insist…” you began, a smile growing rapidly on your face before planting a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll start as soon as we get home.” 

Las Vegas, USA

Going into Vegas, you didn’t know what to expect. The flashing lights, magic tricks, and way too many celebrities for you to keep track of were guarantees, but other than that, you were clueless. 

It was the newest track on the calendar, only being the second time in recent history that the World Championship made a stop in Sin City. The entire team was excited as they arrived, but with the Driver’s Championship on the line, you may have been the most. 

Thankfully, to help keep with the facade of nothing going on between you and Max, both of you had to report to the paddock at different times. As much as the two of you had gotten used to the secrecy, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. You were constantly aware of the eyes on you, knowing that anything that you did - any small gesture - could be taken as evidence of a relationship. The last thing either of you wanted was the added pressure of public speculation. 

You were in one of the Ferrari media rooms by yourself, getting your gear together in between the free practices. The hum of conversation from the paddock filtered in through the door, but inside, it was quiet. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the fact that your laptop wasn’t recognizing your SD card for some reason. 

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you tapped the sides of your laptop as if willing it to work. The noise from the paddock was growing louder as other team members filtered in and out, but here you were, stuck trying to troubleshoot a technical issue that you really didn’t have time for. 

You plugged the SD card into another slot, hoping it might just be a bad connection, but nothing happened. You were about to try one more thing when you heard a knock on the door frame. 

“I’ll be right out. I’m dealing with some tech stuff.” you said not even bothering to see who it was. You assumed that it was Annalese needing you for a media meeting. 

You heard the soft chuckle before the voice responded, and it wasn’t Annalese. 

“Tech issues, huh?” The voice was familiar, low, and warm. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up, immediately meeting Max’s eyes, the playful glint in his gaze sending a mix of emotions through you. 

“Max!” you said, a little too loudly for your own liking. You rushed him into the room before closing the door behind him, hoping no one saw him in the doorway. Your lips met his briefly, and as you pulled away you asked “What are you doing here?” 

Max shrugged “Thought I’d pay you a visit in between meetings. It’s always nice to see you” he said nonchalantly which confused you even more. 

“Great seeing you too, but how did you even get in here?” you asked knowing the only way into the media areas was with a proper credential. 

Your boyfriend motioned back to the door that had just closed behind him. “Annalese let me in. She’s pretty easy to convince.” 

“You know what? I’m not even surprised” you said, throwing your hands up in defeat. “I have bigger problems to worry about right now.” 

Max gave you a teasing smile, clearly enjoying your flustered state, but there was a tenderness behind his eyes that made you feel a little more at ease. He stepped further into the room, glancing over at your laptop with a raised eyebrow. “Need help?” he asked, his voice warm and easy, as if you weren’t in the middle of a stressful race weekend. 

You huffed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I mean if you can get my SD card to register, be my guest. I might just text Isabella and see if she has a second one I can borrow until I can go get a new one.” 

Max took a seat in front of your laptop, and got to work. You watched him for a moment as he tapped a few of the keys, along with unplugged and replugged the SD card in. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the screen, before unplugging the SD card and plugging it into a different port. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his confusion. “You’re doing literally everything I’ve done.”

“I’m sorry, schat.” he said, frowning as he looked at you. 

You shrugged, clearly over the entire situation. “It’s fine. I’ll just text Isabella and ask her.” 

Fortunately, she did have one and quickly agreed to bring you a spare SD card. Within minutes, you heard her voice on the other side of the door, followed by one belonging to a man. 

You and Max exchanged looks as you guys heard the voice. It was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where. As the door knob turned, all you could hope was that it was someone who wouldn’t get Max in trouble for being where he shouldn’t. 

Isabella walked in first, a fresh SD card in her hand, and a slight smile on her face. “Hey, I come bearing gifts” she said, but as she took in the fact you weren’t alone in the room, she stiffened. “Uh hey, Max.” 

While the history between Max and Isabella was no secret to anyone, you knew that Isabella had gotten past it. Her sudden change in demeanor was surprising. Isabella glanced at something in the hallway before landing back on you and Max. 

She walked further into the room, to give you the SD card, but the door behind her didn’t close. You glanced over Isabella’s shoulder, heart skipping a beat as you saw who was now standing in the doorway. 

Logan Sargeant. 

His lips formed an awkward smile as he took in the sight of both you and Max. “Hey, guys.”

“Logan, hi.” you began, your voice filled with confusion. “What are you doing here?” 

Logan’s eyes darted to Isabella, who was still standing between you and him. “She invited me, just as a friend. I missed the paddock and figured I’d come say hi.” 

You couldn’t quite hide the tension that crept into the room, as Logan’s casual tone didn’t quite match the undercurrent of unease you could feel simmering. Max knew the two of you had been catching up, that it was all just friendly, but neither of you were expecting him to show up to another Grand Prix. 

“It’s good to see you.” You said before gesturing to Max. “And you know my boyfriend, Max,” 

Logan’s eyebrows raised at you calling Max yours, but he didn’t say anything on the matter. Instead, he offered a wave and a polite “Hey” 

Max straightened up, his posture tightening, but he quickly masked it with a calm smile. “Nice to see you, Logan,” he said, his voice steady, but you could tell he was more aware of the situation than ever. 

Logan gave a small, awkward nod, his eyes flicking between you and Max. There was a brief pause in the room as the three of you gauged what to do next. 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you both,” Logan said again, his words almost too quick, as if he was trying to fill the silence that had lingered for a little too long.

“Well, I still have some stuff to do.” Isabella said, turning towards Logan, “Shall we?” 

With a quiet goodbye, the duo walked out of the room, leaving you and Max alone. As the door closed, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“I was not expecting that.” you said, turning toward your boyfriend.

Max let out a low chuckle, though there was a hint of tension behind it. “Yeah, me neither.” He said, leaning back against the table before his voice softened. “But you introduced me as your boyfriend.” 

You froze for a moment, realizing the weight of the words you’d just said. It hadn’t even occurred to you until now how significant that simple introduction was. It was the first time you’d referred to Max that was in front of someone outside of your tight circle. 

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess I did.” 

Max’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension from Logan’s unexpected visit seemed to vanish. He got up from the chair and walked over to you. “You know, that felt pretty good.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his eyes. “It did.” you agreed quietly.

Max pressed his lips against yours, soft and sweet. When you both pulled away, he glanced towards the door. “Now I think it’s time we both get back to work.” 

“Yeah, I have a guest to entertain, I guess” you laughed as you packed up your stuff before sneaking Max out of the Ferrari building. 

As soon as Max was out of your sight, you darted towards the Ferrari garage. Not only did you have a load of content to get that you were missing due to the technical error, but you needed to apologize to a certain American.

You’d spent enough time in the paddock to know that the drivers, especially Max, could be drama queens. The awkwardness you’d felt when Logan had walked into the room was fresh, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You didn’t want him to think that something he’d done had crossed a line - it was Max being protective. You and Logan had finally gotten back on the right page, and even though things had been a bit complicated in the past, you didn’t want him feeling uncomfortable during his visit.

You made your way down the long hallway, eventually being surrounded by the hum of activity. Mechanics and engineers were busy attending to both cars, but your focus was on finding Logan. You caught sight of him in the corner, talking with one of the engineers, but as soon as he saw you approaching, he turned his attention to you.

“Hey,” you greeted him, a little hesitant. “Can we talk?” 

Logan nodded immediately, noticing the sincerity in your voice. “Yeah, sure.” 

You motioned for him to follow you back down the hall that you just came from, away from the main hustle and bustle. When you were far enough away to have some privacy, you finally let out a breath. 

“Look, I just wanted to apologize for earlier” you said, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t know you’d be here this weekend, and seeing you and Max in the same room really caught me off guard. I didn’t mean to make things weird.” 

Logan blinked a few times, clearly surprised by your directness. After a beat, he gave a small nod. “It’s alright, I mean it was unexpected, sure, but it’s no big deal.” he offered a reassuring smile. 

While you wanted to let out a sigh of relief, you could feel the weight of your apology still hanging in the air, and you wanted to make sure he understood how much you valued your friendship. 

“I didn’t want you to think that something you did or said made me uncomfortable.” you continued, your voice softer now. “It’s really just Max being protective. He’s not exactly the most laid-back guy when it comes to things like this.”

Logan gave a small chuckle, his expression easing. “Yeah, I know. He’s got that look about him. But I’m glad you two found each other again, you seem genuinely happy.” 

You smiled softly, feeling a warm sense of gratitude for Logan’s words. It was clear he wasn’t holding onto any hard feelings, and it meant a lot that he understood the situation.

“Thanks, Logan,” you said, appreciating his kindness, “I will admit though, I have been missing you around the paddock, so this was a nice surprise.”

It was Logan’s turn for his expression to soften as a genuine smile creeped on his face. “I’ve missed it too.” he said, his tone warm. “The paddock, the people… it’s always been a part of who I am, you know?” He paused for a moment before the smile turned into a smirk. “But I will say you guys get spoiled over here in Ferrari. I need to visit more often.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as the last bit of tension slipped away. The journey hadn’t been easy for either of you, but hearing him speak so honestly put your mind at ease. 

“You’re welcome to come anytime.” you said “I always get a spare pass that I don’t end up giving away half the time.” 

Logan grinned, his eyes lighting up at the offer. “I might just take you up on that.” he said, his voice playful. “It’s nice that everything’s good between us again. I didn’t want to make anything weird.”

“No, me neither,” you agreed, giving him a reassuring smile. “We’ve got enough drama around here already”

He chuckled “Yeah, no kidding. Especially when it comes to Max.” 

At that point, you both laughed, the mood finally officially lightened. The tension that had been there earlier had dissipated entirely, replaced by the familiarity and ease you’d shared with Logan before things got complicated. It felt like you were back to where you had been. 

“Alright, let’s get you back to the garage before everyone starts speculating that you ran to Williams to get your job back.” you said, glancing back down the hall towards the noise of the machines. 

“Oh please, like I’d ever go back there” 

======

When you weren’t busy cracking jokes with the Ferrari guests or convincing Max that Logan really isn’t as bad of a guy as he thought, you were actually doing your job. Between capturing behind-the-scenes moments, interviewing engineers, and snapping shots of the cars during their time on the track, your weekend was filled with a constant stream of action. 

Since you were in Vegas, both you and Isabella opted to take a gamble and switch drivers for the weekend, meaning you were predominantly covering Carlos. 

As much as you loved following Charles around, the change of not having to hear him whine about how much he missed his dog was refreshing. You adored Charles, as well as the endless stories about Leo, but a change of pace was always nice. It was also nice to work with Carlos one last time, leaving for Williams at the end of the season. 

But what didn’t change was the nerves that surged through you as you took your spot in one of the media pens along the track. You had positioned yourself perfectly between the fences, the practice photos that you took during the formation lap had looked perfect. All that was left was for the lights to go out. 

The roar of engines echoed in the air, vibrating through your body as the lights slowly began to fill red. One by one, they blinked on, and the air around you thickened with anticipation. The final light flickered, and then, - off. 

You were already snapping photos as the cars shot off the line. Each frame clicked into place as you captured the story unfolding right in front of you. 

Even though you had done this week in and week out, your nerves couldn’t help but spike this time around. It wasn’t your first time working with Max behind the wheel since you made it official, but it was the first time this season he could clinch the championship. 

You caught sight of his Red Bull, its blue and red livery standing out against the glint of Las Vegas lights, weaving through the pack. Though you were focused on Carlos’ red Ferrari, you couldn’t help but to snap a few photos of Max as he whizzed by. 

The tension that had settled in your chest slowly started to ease as the race progressed, the rhythm of your work taking over. It was almost as if your camera became an extension of you - each snap, each click pulling you deeper into the action. It also helped that Max was ahead of Lando. 

As the laps ticked down to the single digits, you found yourself once again pressed along the fence that separated the track and pit lane. Carlos was about to cross the line in third, securing another solid finish for Ferrari, but your focus was split between that and Max, who was positioned perfectly in fifth. 

The weight of the moment settled in, along with the pride that came rushing to your chest. You clicked a few photos of Carlos as he crossed the finish line, gathering the energy of the team that squished into the fence beside you. 

But just one garage over, the air was thick with excitement, anticipation, and pride. Max had done it again. 

The Ferrari team members, along with those in Red Bull and Mercedes, sprinted down the pit lane to parc ferme. You weasled your way to the front of it all, snapping photos as Carlos got out of the car and celebrated with the team. 

Your attention quickly turned to Max as he parked next to the red Ferrari. You could feel the adrenaline of the moment vibrate through your body as the crowd roared in celebration, your fingers still hovering over the shutter button, ready to capture every second of what would undoubtedly be another iconic moment in Max’s career. 

As Max stepped onto the car, the energy from his team surged forward. You snapped a few quick photos of him, the expression of triumph evident in his eyes as he raised four fingers in celebration. 

You had to force yourself to tear your attention away from him and back to Carlos. After he celebrated with the team, you snapped a few photos of him as he stuck a fist in the air. You followed Carlos as he congratulated George and Lewis on the Mercedes 1-2, before he found Max amidst the chaos. 

Between the photos that you had taken of him on the car and now, Max had taken off his helmet and balaclava, and for the first time since the end of the race, you could see the smile that beamed on his face. The shutter of your camera was barely heard as you captured the moment between the two drivers. 

You were going to follow Carlos as he was ushered to the cooldown car, but before you could, you felt an arm wrap around your waist. You froze for a second, heart pounding in your chest as the familiar scent of Max’s cologne mixed with the stench of sweat washed over you. The arm around your waist was tight enough to give a protective presence, but loose enough to not hurt you. 

You turned, meeting his eyes - those deep blue-green, focused eyes that always seemed to hold a world of thoughts in them. But tonight, they were something else, something lighter. A look that said he was ready to celebrate. 

“Congrats champ” you said as you looked up at him. 

Max’s lips curved into a smile as he looked down at you, his hand still resting around your waist. There was a certain softness to his gaze now, a quiet joy that radiated through him, despite the whirlwind of celebration around him. 

“Thanks” he said, his voice a mix of pride and something softer, almost vulnerable. “It feels good, you know?” His thumb lightly brushed against your side as you spoke, an unconscious gesture that felt intimate amidst the chaos. 

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the heat of the moment settle between the two of you. “You earned it.” you said. The sound of a car horn filled the air, tearing your attention away from him. In the middle of the track were a handful of Rolls Royce’s. 

“I think that’s our cue. I have some interviews to catch” you said as your attention settled back on your boyfriend. “Go celebrate with the team.” 

“Meet me in my driver’s room once we’re both done.” Max said 

You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You got it, champ.”

Before you could slip away towards the chaos, Max pulled you in closer. You could feel the heat from his body as he leaned down to press his lips softly against yours, the world around you fading into nothing but a blur for a moment. It was quick, but it carried so much more weight than any words could ever have. 

As you both pulled away, you could feel the warmth spread to your cheeks. “So much for keeping it hidden.” you teased 

Max shrugged, a playful smile on his lips now. “You’re just too good to hide.” 

======

The interviews and the podium ceremony went as slow as molasses in January. As proud of Carlos as you were, you wanted to get the formal celebrations all wrapped up so you could pack up and make your way to the garage next door. 

The spray of champagne and confetti filled the air, and the podium continued to sparkle under the floodlights. Carlos waved to the crowd, his focus on the fans, but you couldn’t help but to feel the pull towards the Red Bull garage. You quickly snapped a few more photos of the celebration, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

The second the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, you bolted from your spot, making your way quickly towards the Ferrari garage. Through the walls you could hear the celebrations already going on next door, but you had one last task to complete before you could join in the celebrations yourself. 

You found a relatively quiet corner of the garage to open your laptop and load a handful of photos into Lightroom. Not everything needed to be looked over and edited tonight - that was a flight home problem - but you knew you needed something to send some of the social media interns to post for race results and podium content. 

After slapping on the presets you’ve used all season, you emailed the photos to the interns and slammed your laptop shut. The Ferrari garage was still alive with a sense of pride, but your heart was no longer tethered to it for the day. You needed to be next door, with Max. 

With a quick stop in the motorhome, you changed into something a bit more comfortable - jeans and a crop top before you pushed through the corridor to the main garage. You weaved between team members and engineers who were still making their rounds, tying up loose ends after a race. 

Cold was never a word you thought you’d describe a city in the desert, but as soon as you left the red garage, a shiver was sent down your spine. Fortunately, before you could even think about how to bundle up, you heard your name.

“Y/n!” a voice called.

You turned towards the direction of the Red Bull garage, and sure enough, Meg and Jess - Red Bull’s photographers - were waving you over. You ran over, letting the both of them engulf you in a hug. 

“Congrats guys!” you said as you pulled away 

They both echoed back a “thank you” before matching smirks formed on their faces. 

“So you and Max?” Jess asked 

“Why didn’t you tell us it finally happened?” Meg added 

You could feel your cheeks grow warm as you shrugged. “Just didn’t think it was the right time” 

Meg rolled her eyes at your comment “Oh, and kissing in front of three hundred thousand people was?”

“Whatever” you mumbled 

“If you’re looking for Max though, he’s in his driver’s room. Guessing he needed a moment to breathe” Jess said before giving you directions to said room. 

You made your way through the corridors of the navy blue Red Bull garage, your steps quickening as you neared Max’s driver’s room. The noise of the celebrations felt distant, the hum of excitement muted behind the thick walls. As you approached the door Jess had pointed you to, you paused for a moment, steadying yourself. It was crazy how much had changed in just a few months, but here you were, walking toward the man who not only had been your childhood enemy, but also had become a significant part of your life in ways you hadn’t imagined. 

With a quick breath, you knocked lightly on the door. Max’s voice quickly followed, “come in!” 

Inside, the room was dimly lit with just a few lights scattered around. The clutter of post-race items - the helmet and gloves - were discarded in the corner, his race suit still hanging loosely from his waist. A navy blue shirt covered the white fireproofs he still had on, the word “M4X” written in graffiti plastered on the front. You couldn’t help but smile as you took in the design - your design - that was now a symbol of an iconic season. 

“I’m looking for a four time world champion. Have you seen one around?” you asked playfully as you leaned up against the doorframe.

Max looked up from where he was sorting through his things, his lips curling into the same grin he always got when he caught sight of you. His eyes brightened, and for a moment, it was as if the chaos of the day melted away. 

“Four-time world champion, huh?” he teased, his voice light and filled with pride. “I think I’ve seen one around here, but I’m not sure they’re as impressive as their shirt.” He gestured to the M4X logo on his shirt, the design standing out proudly against the dim lighting of the room. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. “Maybe it’s the shirt that makes the champion.” you quipped, pushing off from the doorframe and stepping into the room.

Max chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s all your doing.” His voice softened slightly, his gaze lingering on you, almost as if taking a moment to let everything sink in. 

“You’ve earned it Max.” you said, your words sincere, no teasing this time. The pride you felt for him, and all he’d accomplished, was clear in your voice. “Every single one of them. And I’ve been so fortunate to watch you win at least three.” 

Max stepped closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to gently pull you into a hug. His arms wrapped around you, and everything outside of that room vanished. He rested his chin on your shoulder, a relaxed sigh escaping him. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured, his voice hushed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected. 

You felt your heart race, his words hitting you deeper than you had anticipated. “It’s been a hell of a ride,” you replied softly, your fingers lightly tracing his shirt where the M4X logo was. 

“I did get you a shirt, don’t you worry” he teased as he registered your actions.

A laugh escaped your mouth as you shook your head, “I sure hope you would.”

Without saying another word, Max leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was filled with both the joy of the moment and the promise of everything to come. It was slow, deliberate, and full of emotion. When he pulled back, you both lingered there for a moment, letting the world outside stay on hold for just a little bit longer. 

“You’ve been a huge part of this, you know?” Max said, his voice low and steady, his breath warm against your skin

“I know” you replied with a small smile, looking up at him. “But so have you. I’m so incredibly proud of you, Max. More than you know. Though I haven’t seen it all over the past four years, I know you’ve sacrificed a lot.”

Max gave a soft chuckle, his grip tightening around you. “You make it sound like I’ve done something extraordinary.” 

“You have” you said, admiration and affection filling your gaze. “And don’t you dare sell yourself short.” 

His gaze softened again, and he pressed his lips to your forehead, a brief but tender kiss. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with a quiet understanding between the two of you. The weight of the day still hung in the air, but there was a sense of calm that made everything feel right. 

“So…” you said after a beat, breaking the silence with a playful tone. “How about we go and celebrate? We’re in Las Vegas afterall.” 

Max pulled back slightly, a teasing grin on his face. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

The Dutchman quickly showered and changed into more casual clothes - his iconic black shirt and jeans. You couldn’t help but smile as you took him in, feeling your heart flutter in the process. 

As he collected his things to head out, he turned to you, his head tilted slightly in curiosity. “Do you think Logan and Isabella would want to join?” 

At first you were caught off guard by the question, the two people he named you thought surely wouldn’t be invited to the celebrations. But it was Max afterall, and no matter how many years you’d known him, he’d keep you on your toes. 

You shrugged, glancing at his phone on the table. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask them yourself?” 

Max raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, but didn’t hesitate as he grabbed his phone from the resting spot. “Fair enough.” 

His head was down as he reached for his wallet and began to walk out of his room, so he didn’t notice something fall from one of the pockets. You, on the other hand, noticed the small, folded up piece of paper hit the ground. As Max was halfway out the door, you grabbed it, unfolding it. 

As you unfolded the paper, you could see a photo of a young boy, throwing his arms up in celebration. He was standing in front of a kart - his kart. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes traced the photo. The edges were faded, but you knew the kid standing in the middle. You knew that photo was only taken on your little red point and shoot camera.

“Y/n? You coming?” Max called from down the hallway, his tone casual, but you could hear the faint urgency in his voice. 

You hesitated, the photo still in your hand, and glanced at Max. His attention was now back to being focused on you, his eyes soft. 

“You put the photo back in your wallet?” you asked, turning the image of the boy so Max could see his younger self. 

Max’s eyes widened for a second as he realized what you were holding. His calm expression faltered just slightly, replaced by a hint of surprise, before breaking into a soft smile.

“Who said I ever took it out?” 

=============================

tagged: @mixedstyles @steamy-smokey @skbidi-izze @sinfully-yoursss @158cmx @freyathehuntress

[blkkizzat]

Tutorial: Manga Banners

Basic Manga Text Change/Coloring/GIF creation in PS

Hey, so as promised making a very basic tutorial for making banner gifs in photoshop for fics/drabbles/layouts, etc.

I'm going to keep things super simple here for beginners.

END RESULTS↴ 

(NOTE: This gif I made will be used for an unreleased story of mine so please don't use this exact gif/images but you are free to follow the tutorial to create your own).

All I ask is if you find this helpful to REBLOG! :) No need to credit me.

For this tutorial you will need ↴ 

Photoshop

At least 2 manga panel images (non-transparent*)

Optional: Manga fonts. I mostly use CC Wild words (speech bubbles) & Manga Temple (narrator boxes)

Basic knowledge of photoshop layout/where tools are.

*this tutorial is essentially the same if working with transparency but if you do work with transparency you will need to have knowledge of clipping masks which i do not cover here.

Tutorial ↴ 

(optional) Prepwork: so i didn't think to include this do this but you are going to need to crop and resize your image. make sure the width is either 540 or 1080px. This is the recommended width for pictures in tumblr. Height can be what you want it to be. This is done image > image size (make sure the link-chain is pressed for aspect ratio)

Step 1

This is what you want your setup to look similar to. Delete locked background layer.

Steps 2 & 3

Make a new layer. It might be helpful for beginners to re-name all their layers so instead of "Layer 2" you might name this ⇢ "White fill layer or Text cover up". (doubletap layer name to change it).

Use rectangular marquee to select text you want to change. If you are just replacing a word or two you dont need to white out everything. But you could choose to cover up all if you wish. I just wanted to remove "senpai".

Steps 4 & 5

Use Paint Bucket Tool to fill in selection area with white (make sure the new layer you made is selected when you do this).

Select Text Tool. There is no need to make a new layer as once you are done typing it will become a text layer. I used CC Wild Words bold font for this for emphasis. If you do multiple lines of text use a new text layer for each line.

Step 6 - Optional Step - Highly recommended if you did multiple lines of text.

Rasterize Type by right clicking the layer. This is an optional step. I tend to do it out of habit and rasterizing lets you use the move tool to give you exact px distances between other rasterized elements but nothing we are doing requires this tbh and if you do decide to do it you can't go back and edit text.

If you did multiple text layers you cause space them out evenly using the move tool (zoom into 200%-400% if necessary to get exact pixel distances). Tip: Manga text is centered in the bubble and leaves a good distance away from the edge.

When you are done ctrl/cmd to select all text layers then right click and merge the layers. This is so incase you have to move the text layer for whatever reason they are all on one layer now, evenly spaced and you won't accidentally mess that up.

Step 7

Create an exposure layer (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). This is important as it can lighten/darken image to make the colors we will add later pop by playing with the sliders for each setting.

Step 8

Apply exposure settings. On the right-hand side there will be 3 slider bars. The screenshot shows my settings but your settings will vary depending on the image. The one that gives the biggest benefit for manga is Gamma Correction which affects the midtones to make them lighter/darker and adds better contrast to the image so it doesn't look as muddy, often in black and white images it is easy for midtones to look muddy. Offset affects mid to dark tones of an image. Exposure affects midtones to highlights to make brighter or darker, overall use this the least. TIP: If you want to make an image brighter or darker you usually want this to apply equally to the overall image so then you would create a brightness/contrast layer instead. most manga images skew muddy and need a midtone and dark adjustment rather than highlights. the better the manga scan images the less adjustments you will need.

Step 9 - Optional

Apply a gradient map (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). This is optional. a Gradient map adds gradient but preserves the shading in the image so essentially adds a gradient to the shading. I do this in black and white. But if you are happy with how it came out in the exposure phase you don't need to.

Step 10 & 11 -

Apply a gradient (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). So when you add a gradient there are a ton of preset color combos you can use or you can create your own. I think this one is a preset but can't remember. I like a diagonal gradient from light to dark depending on where the light source on the image is but it is completely up to you. I tend to set the gradient angles near these 4 settings: -145, -45, 45, 145 depending on what corner I want the lighter part in.

One thing to note is brighter colors work better with a darker background. Lighter backgrounds can get washed out. One you add this as you can see it will be solid color.

*note* once this layer is applied any edits such as moving text, etc. around you want to do to the lower layers beneath it click the "eye" button to hide the gradient (same for the map) or there's a good chance it will move the gradient layers around and not the layer you want.

Change layer blending mode. By default it's set to "normal". You can play around with these. Depending on the effect you want and whether the image has darker or lighter colors will decide the blending mode. My typical blending modes are screen, overlay, hard light, vivid light or pin light. You can duplicate this gradient layer and play around with multiple settings and opacities to create something you like.

Step 12 - Optional

Add a Brightness/Contrast layer (half filled in circle in layer bar for menu). Brightness/Contrast on this step will look wildly different than if you added it right after the exposure step. It's not necessary but if you want more overall contrast or brightness then you can add it.

You can see my settings below on the sliders on the right-hand side.

Step 13

Create new layer for highlights. (also good check point to see how your layers are organized).

Step 14

Select the brush tool and ensure brush settings are a soft round brush with a hardness of 0% for the highlight effect. (if you click the brush image you can see my settings better)

Step 15

Select the dropper tool and pick a color from the gradient image. I usually pick the darkest colors available as it will have the best dodge effect for highlights. Since this is pink/redish I only have one highlight color but if you were doing a green/blue gradient you would pick the darkest from both. (ignore the purple here its not being used)

Step 16

Create highlights with brush tool. Do a few tests placements randomly around the image for positioning and then swap the blend mode to either color dodge or linear dodge. I usually do color dodge. You will get awesome highlights like below. You can play with the sizing of the brushes and opacity to decrease the effect.

Step 17 & 18

Export as PNG. Do this even if you want to make a gif as I always recommend a clean canvas for gif making. If you want to be done here and don't want a gif thats fine too. File > Export > Quick Export as PNG (do not save as jpeg/gif you will lose image quality).

Repeat for second image. You don't need to open a new file unless it helps you to not get confused. You can just make a new layer and paste your new image into that layer (if you just right click copy the file in the window/finder folder you can directly paste it into a layer in PS) and use the transform tool to resize. However you can totally just open the image in PS. The benefit of same canvas is you save yourself some time as you can just duplicate gradient layers/adjustment layers and move them. But this is kinda more advanced so if you aren't comfortable with photoshop just make a new image.

Step 18-19

Create new file/open one of the PNG in PS (more advanced can just create new layer, select image, then copy > copy merged and paste on new file for each. Otherwise open one file, create a new layer then copy the other file. The bottom later will be the first image in the gif.

Create Frame Animation on the timeline window. (if the timeline window does not appear then window > timeline) *note* if this is your first time working with the window it may be set to "create video timeline", if that's the case create it then from the frame menu (in step 23 theres an example of where this is) select "convert to frame animation".

If done correctly your setup should look like the below with two images. One for each layer and one for each frame.

MAKE SURE PROPAGATE FRAME ONE BOX IS CHECKED IN THE LAYERS WINDOW.

lmao, not to be dramatic but this ensures most effects you would add to frame 1 (which corresponds to layer 1) is applied to all frames. I'm not too sure its super vital for this super basic gif I'm showing you but its better to get in the habit of always having it checked. otherwise it will fuck you over later down the line in my next tutorial where I show how to add frames to gifs.

Step 20

Select both layers, then select both frames (ctrl/cmd) and finally select tween from the timeline window. It is the multi-faded dot option on the bar below.

Step 21

Add Frames to Tween. Tween is the fading effect adding more frames is the longer the fading effect is. I added 20 for this step, you can play around and add more or less.

Once you do that you can see 20 new frames being added onto the timeline. This will not automatically add new layers, this is fine. Frames and layers don't need to be a 1-to-1. (Another reason why propagate frame 1 needs to be checked as you can still adjust those layerless frames by adjusting frame 1's layer)

Step 22

Adding delays. Automatically the delay on every frame is at zero. But especially if you have text you want people to be able to read that so you need to add in a delay. Your delays can be in increments of 1/10th of a second. I add a 1 second delay to the first frame only.

Step 23

Select and Copy the first frame and then select the last frame and Paste. A paste window will appear in this case we want to paste after selection. I circled where the menu for frames are. (sorry used a different gif as an example so ignore everything but the circled menu)

Step 24

Adding additional delays. I add a 1 second delay to the last two frames.

Step 25

Add more Tween I added 5 frames this time as we want the transition to be much quicker to reset the image. You can see frame 23 in the previous step are now frame 28.

You can add more images in than 2 and follow these steps to add tweening.

DONE! Now to save.

Step 26

Export your gif. File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy) and the screen below should pop up. Here are the settings I use for gifs. You can play around with it but I really wouldn't lol. (again ignore image size, this is from a different gif) it will also tell you how big in file weight your gif is. This isn't something you have to worry about for something simple but the bigger the image size and the more transitions/images you use the more frames you will have. Reducing image size (make sure chain link is on like in the below) will take off more sizing then removing frames will and I would recommend that. But tumblr allows 10MB MAX per gif so just something to keep in mind.

Let me know how this was! If you have questions just drop me an ask. ❤

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 121 (Waiting For Word in Brindleton Bay)

To keep her mind off Conrad's risky trip to Sulani right before Love Day, Heather focused hard at work. She continued exchanging notes with her architect in Evergreen Harbour, forging ahead with plans to remodel her clinic in the spring.

After tending to sick pets with ease, she took time to chat with some of the locals in the lobby. J Huntington and his wife, Liberty, had brought in one of their cats, and J was interested in chatting with Heather about her experience working for Landgraab Corp. She looked at him with surprise.

"With George MIA, I set up a meeting with some suit from the city to talk about operating Bay Security through one of their subsidiaries. I'm just trying to do right by my guys."

Heather considered her advice carefully. As much as she had loathed working for Landgraab Corp. for personal and professional reasons, they seemed better in business than George Brindleton, at the very least. "I think what Landgraab Corp. might lack in the expertise needed to run a good clinic, they make up for with the money and protection your guys are probably looking for," she reasoned.

He thanked her before Kaori took Liberty and their cat into an exam room, and Heather turned her attention to Brant Hecking, a dog lover who had brought in two of his pups for a check-up.

"How are you and Brent doing?" she asked warmly. "And how's your son, Barrett?"

"He's doing amazing. Loves to wave. Even if he's met you a hundred times, he waves every time he sees you."

"Lavender loves hanging out with him at daycare. I can't thank Brent enough for watching her tonight. I'm running another spay-for-all promotion this week and working late every night. Hazel's visiting her girlfriend for Love Day...The timing of Conrad's work trip to Sulani isn't great."

"Don't sweat it! I hope he catches a bit of sun after the long winter we've had. Barrett loves Lavender, and we're happy to watch her anytime."

Heather forced a laugh. A bit of sun would be nice. Not that she needed a vacation, exactly, but she was annoyed that Conrad would likely miss Love Day, and annoyed at herself for caring at all. She'd never been flirty, and Love Day was just a corporate holiday, but he didn't even mention it when he called to say he was going to find Rafa.

He was understandably distracted, and they had more important things to worry about than Love Day. But that didn't mean she didn't want to spent the day with Conrad, regardless.

Instead, he was putting himself in danger for George Brindleton, and she could barely stand it.

She picked up her daughter from the Heckings after dark, thanking Brent for watching her wild toddler. "She was on her best behaviour for Barrett and me tonight," said Brent.

Watching Lavender and Barrett babble away together in the snow, Heather smiled. "You're all welcome over any time - all five dogs, too!"

(The Heckings adopted four dogs, at random, in addition to Rosie who they already had. None of the dogs are related to each other because of course I checked whether this was a puppy situation. It's not, they're just like Heather but MORE!)

She got home and made pancakes for dinner, and Ash set the table without being asked. She called Conrad but he didn't pick up, so she left a voicemail. "Hey it's me," she said, disguising the worry in her voice in front of the kids. "We're sitting down to dinner and I just wanted to check in and say I love you."

It bothered her that he hadn't called. She knew he was busy, but she hoped he would have by now. And then, just to add to her stress, they were surprised by a NAP inspector, who fined her for not having a recycler or a fabricator in support of the town's upcycling initiative.

Heather was frustrated - her dad had both growing up, and she always thought the clunky machines made too much noise - so she retreated to her beloved video games for a little bit of free time to relax while Ash watched TV and Lavender played with blocks.

Soon enough, that free time had turned into perfecting a mod for MySims!Go. Deep in concentration, Ash startled her after he'd gotten ready for bed.

"If you love video games, why are you always modding them?"

"After you've played a game for a while, modding can help keep it fun. It gives new goals to achieve in the game or just makes the graphics look better."

"If games get boring, why don't you design one?"

She laughed. "I don't think anyone could design a video game that wouldn't get boring eventually."

"Just make it thousands of levels so people can never beat it and they'll always play your game. I know I'd play any game you made, and my friends would, too!"

The logic of the eight-year-old genius was straightforward, and Heather smiled. She had more than enough on her plate these days, but the thought of designing a video game her son loved to play made her think seriously about the idea. If she even had an idea.

After playing with wild Lavender for a while before bed to tire her out, her daughter did her usual goodnight routine with the pets upstairs before Heather tucked both kids into bed.

She let Gord out one last time before locking up for the night. He was loving and friendly as always, but Heather could sense he was worried.

Gord probably sensed her fears, too, and they tried to comfort each other on the back patio before she headed inside. She checked her phone one last time with a nervous glance.

Conrad still hadn't checked in yet. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: I know Love Day is a default spring holiday in Sims 4 but I always move it to winter. I grew up in Canada and February is full-on wintertime, so I only know VDay as a dead-of-winter holiday! But spring is near in game (not in real life), and with this Love Day looking like a bust, I don't mind that we're kind of blowing through it while playing out Conrad's eventful trip to Sulani.

But oh if Heather knew Conrad was lying on the sand knocked out, she'd drop the kids off with someone and fly to Sulani herself. That's true love!

[divinit3a]

For the ask game 💕

💕 Time for a shout-out! What are some of your fav AUs from other creators in the fandom? ⭑ dca au ask game

^-^ ....OK! I shall set down all the cakes on the table for a full buffet! Get your forks & knives out! 🍽️🍽️🍽️

please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd prefer not to be @'d in the future, or to be removed from this post u_u <3 I totally respect folk's preferences!

✨ lets go! ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑ ⭑⭑⭑

@muzzlemouths Dead Mall Dare / DfTR AU(s) Dead Mall Dare was one of the first AUs I read (like, literally. 1-2 months ago!) & I went woooaaah they are fun removed from original context. Isn't that so neat ?? This isn't a rabbithole to fall in, tho. u_u No wayyy guys c'mon ... /j Likewise, DfTR is a treat to watch unfold & see people squirm ^-^

@r0b0-wannabe Botanical Garden AU (or just any of your stories, but I'm.. sticking to the law...s... ) Hi, I stayed up to 2-3am drawing ur boys bc Im normal about this AU & how endearing it is... obviously... (💚) I love your writing style & characterizations. Maybe this is silly, but, I also enjoy learning about plantcare, too :3

@sinister-sincerely 2nd Choice AU Oh, you are so evil. The username matches. (A COMPLIMENT!! Hehe.) Oh, you write drama, angst/no comfort, hurting/damaged characters making awful choices so well. It was wild doing a double-take to realize YOU! are the WRITER for 2nd choice!! Some day, I will get u. For now, run 💜🔪

@wyervan Human!Slasher AU :D Yay! Both the OG/Main storyline are wonderful. I find the community version very endearing as an AU-within-an-AU. (love that!) As someone who used to run RP groups (on god!) it fills my heart with joy to see people filling out a world with so much life. Your art style is delightfully grungy ^-^/

@pluck-heartstrings - Pluck My Heartstrings AU Ohhh. I am weak to fairytale/renfaire vibes, as well as the more classic harlequin jester aesthetic u_u<3 Plus, the Vocalist/Princess is just so dang compelling, too. Your design sense is impeccable.

@moon-buggg Haunted House & Mad Scientist AUs They are both so neat & I can't wait to learn more!! The Haunted House AU designs live in my head rent free along with the comics :3

@zenkaiankoku Broken but Better AU Lovely, torn-up designs! Yay, mechanical horror! Yay, angst!! And a delightful remix of their personalities, too <3

@authormeat Alienware AU ^-^ I am instantly delighted by the weird guy freak energy & that the yn IS an alien/monster. Thats all I want & more. I also love ur designs for other AUs

...

...

...... 🧍 I Have More to Say

And...And... Not.. AU specific, but 🏏💥BAM , BAM 💥🏏 LOVELY FOLKS!!!!!!

🍲 <{ @soupdweller THERE IS NO ESCAPE ok but fr.. I appreciate ya, homie :3 you are a joy to chat with!! beautiful art!! evil mind!! delicious soups. i cant wait for whatever u cook up ^-^ 🐤 <{ @luckyyyduckyyy I WILL READ UR AU STORIES!! RUN & HIDE!!! you are the goofiest goober in the wild west, by goodness. i love ur energy and the gorgeous designs u create!! 🐛 <{ @chickenchirps27 ACK I COULD STARE AT UR ART FOREVER! I'll have to start volleying over illustrators I think ya might enjoy... u are so sweet & funny!! 🐐 <{ @lurking-loaf YOU ARE SO KIND! Seriously, I appreciate the fun craft projects you recommended -& your words of support :') 🔮 <{ @anis-sketches :D HI! Happy to throw recs your way. Also, your art is adorable!! 🌿 <{ @craykaycee HI TO U TOO!! the tags u leave always make me smile, and i appreciate u stopping by to say hi... :3 & MANYMANY MORE BUT I NEED TO CUT MYSELF OFF OR ELSE

Per usual, I lost sight of the original goal. But! Consider:

🏏💥WHAM , BAM 💥🏏 GOTCHU >:)

[jellyclogs]

Shanks x reader: Laundry

Trigger warnings: I can't really think of any

Word count: 3k

Fluff, shanks and y/n are cute

Shanks could not take his eyes off of (y/n). It wasn't like she had done anything special today. She was just being her normal self, wearing her normal clothes. Still, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Even though her top wasn't tighter than normal he could swear her chest looked bigger, and did those shorts make her ass look better? (Y/n) was always beautiful to him. She wasn't the kind of beautiful that would make her a supermodel but she was beautiful. Shanks found her beauty was even more striking because it was real. Most days he could just pretend not to notice. But on days like today, Shanks just couldn't make his mind ignore it.

(Y/n) was doing the crew's laundry, this week was her turn. She had already washed it and now was hanging it to dry. She hummed along to a sound dial playing some Soul King, her hips swaying along. Shanks always loved a chance to see her sweet domestic side. Not that he minded seeing her be ruff and rowdy but seeing her like this scratched an itch in his brain like nothing else could.

(Y/n) was the crew's animal expert. Shanks had not understood when he first recruited her what that really meant. What it meant was she was an animal whisper. She could understand animals like no one else he'd ever met. It was unreal to watch her work. She could silently communicate with them. You leave her in a room with a wild animal and within two hours it's in her lap wanting to be pet. 

"You know I can feel you staring?" (Y/n) turned to Shanks one of his shirts in her hands. She reached over and grabbed some clothespins out of a tiny little basket. She pined the shirt up, with a smile on her lips.

"It's not my fault you look so nice," Shanks smirked at her. He had been wondering how long shed let him get away with his staring.

"Is there something I can do for you, Captain?" Her voice had a hint of amusement to it and Shanks could see a smile on her pretty lips.

"No, just enjoying the view." Shanks gave her a devilish grin," I've got to say it is quite the view." His eyes did not leave her. In moments like this, it was easy to forget how adept she was with a set of daggers. It was easy to imagine her as a girl from a small island, that he was slowly but surely convincing her to be his. 

(Y/n) rolled her eyes turning her back to him "So are you going to just stand there and watch me?" She grabbed the next piece of laundry and began to hang it up. Her hips still swaying to the music.

"Have something else for me to do?" Shanks quirked his brow, still smiling.

"You could always help me," (y/n) offered.

"Are you trying to push your work off on your captain?" Shanks gasped in mock offense. His hand came to rest on his chest over his heart, “Your captain does not appreciate it.”

"So you talk about yourself in the third person now?" (Y/n) gave Shanks a funny look over her shoulder. “Captin it's not even noon lay off the saki.”

Shanks bit his lip and then laughed. Their gose (y/n)'s silver tongue. He's always loved how quick-witted she was. Then there was the look she gave him. That was damned adorable. He could feel the smile growing on his lips, "I'll take that as a, 'yes I'm trying to make you do my work for me captain', that's not very nice (y/n)." Shanks shook his head teasingly.

"Oh feel free to just sit and watch me, but if you happen to get bored I wouldn't mind the hand." (Y/n) huffed, Finishing pinning up a sheet. Her back was still to shanks, but he could feel that she rolled her eyes at him.

Shanks thought about it for a long moment before standing up and walking over to help her, “Well I guess since there is nothing else for me to do I might as well help you.” Shanks looked at the basket of laundry she was pulling from and saw it was mostly empty.

“Only if you really feel like it captain.” (y/n) shot him a sweet little smile, “I was mostly teasing you anyways,” she said carelessly.

Shanks wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, “You're so mean to your captain (y/n).” Shanks tsked, “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

Mel rolled her eyes. She was used to shanks being cuddly. She had hated it when she first joined the crew but now she didn't mind. Not that she would tell her captain but there were few places she felt safer than in his arm(s), “We both know you’re being over dramatic.” (y/n) patted Shanks’ cheek.

Shanks took a deep breath and soaked in the feeling of just holding the beautiful woman. Holding her like this was almost torturous. He would never push his luck but dam it he wanted to feel more of her, “I am allowed to be overdramatic.” his voice had dropped an octave, “And we both know that you like it when I am.”

(y/n) felt a chill run down her spine. There were many things about Shanks that drove her crazy but his voice was at the top of that list. She had a feeling, Shanks knew just what he did to her. She was never sure if he liked her or just enjoyed seeing her squirm. “How is this helping me?” her voice was a little higher than normal.

Shanks smirked, “Oh I changed my mind,” he could feel her heart racing under his touch, “I'm gonna be a hindrance to you instead.”

(y/n) let out a soft laugh, “Now you're being the mean one.” She wriggled out of his grasp and grabbed the next sheet from the basket.

Shanks laughed himself grabbing the second to last sheet from the basket, “Ok fine ill help.”

“Well thank you, captain,” (y/n) handed him two clothespins before grabbing two for herself.

“So is this the last load?” Shanks asked before holding the clothespin between his lips and tossing the sheet over the line. He quickly pined the sheet in place.

“Yep, it's the last load.” (y/n) responded finishing hanging up the sheet in her hands and then grabbing the last one out of the basket.

“For someone begging for help, you didn't need it much.” Shanks cooed with a teasing smile.

“Maby it was just bugging me that you were silently sitting there and staring at me.” (y/n) scratched the back of her head.

“And like I told you it isn't my fault you’re so nice to look at.” shanks shot her a cocky smirk.

(y/n) thought about her next words for a bit longer than their playful conversion called for. She sighed and then asked, “Do you flirt with me because you like me or just because it's something to do?” She had wanted to ask him the question for a while now.

Shanks froze, he hadn’t expected to hear her ask a question like this. He stared into her (e/c) eyes for a moment, “I flirt with you because you are a strong, quick-witted, and beautiful woman.” he reached out and grabbed her hand, “It does help pass the time but I do it because I like you.” his thumb brushed along the back of her hand. “Do you flirt back because you like me?” he asked in a teasing but sweet voice.

(y/n) looked into Shanks’s worm-brown eyes before smiling, “Oh I like you, captain,” she purred suddenly confident. She thought about it for a moment before grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a kiss.

Shanks did not hesitate to kiss her back. He leaned down to meet her lips his hand letting go of hers as his arm snaked around her waist again. This was definitely a good outcome for him. He was smiling into the kiss. It was a soft and sweet kiss.

The two of them had been playfully flirting for months. Shanks hadn't pushed it passed flirting because it would have felt wrong. He hadn't wanted to force her into a relationship if she didn't want to. He didn't want her to feel like just because he was the captain she had to be with him.

After a long moment (y/n) pulled away. She leaned her head against Shanks’s chest. All her confidence was gone. She could feel herself blushing. The animal whisperer had very little experience with men. She was a blushing virgin and was suddenly insecure about it. She knew Shanks was a bit of a ladies' man. She knew he was experienced. Her mind began to spiral, wondering if he'd still like her knowing how inexperienced she was “Sorry if that was too forward.” (y/n) mumbled.

Shanks couldn't stop smiling, “To forward?” he hummed. He picked her up cradling her in the crook of his elbow, “You really do act like a proper damsel sometimes.” he laughed resting his forehead against hers, “But no you weren't too forward.” he was enjoying the adorable flushed look she had on her face. She was a truly beautiful woman.

“Hay (y/n) you hungry?” Lucky Roux called into the mess of clotheslines and clean clothes. 

(y/n) quickly slipped out of Shanks’s grasp before calling back, “That depends, what's for lunch?” She was a little glad to have an excuse to run and hide from Shanks. She needed a moment to regain her composure before she interacted with Shanks again. She flipped the sound dial off before she quickly headed towards Lucky Roux trying hard to calm the blush on her face.

Lucky Roux rolled his eyes, “You are such a picky eater.” he laughed a smile spreading on his face.

“Yeah, I am,”  (y/n) emerged from the maze of hanging clothes. “So what's for lunch?”

“Well, I kept it simple, just some sandwiches,” Lucky Roux could see the flush of the girl's cheeks and smiled harder. He wasn't going to ask why she was blushing because he had a feeling why. He could spot the top of Shanks’s head from the same direction the (h/c) haired girl had come from.

######

(y/n) spent the rest of the day avoiding Shanks. She felt like a flustered preteen girl every time she thought of him. She knew the rest of the crew could tell she was avoiding him. She figured she would explain it later. If it bugged anyone they hadn't said anything.

She had eaten lunch with Lucky Roux. The man had been giving her a knowing smile the whole time. Clearly, he understood what had happened. She was glad he hadn't pressed for details.

It had been a couple of hours since lunch. (y/n) had been hiding in her room trying to get a grip on her feelings. She decided she should go see if the laundry was dry. She was an adult woman and had responsibilities she needed to attend to. She couldn't spend all day being a flustered little girl.

(y/n) slipped out of her room. Her bare feet made almost no noise on the wooden floorboards of the ship. The sun was setting as she got to the deck. She could tell the clothes were dry just by looking at them.

She began to pull the laundry down and sort it. Each crew member labeled their clothes by writing their names on the tags just to make it easier to sort. She checked the tags of each piece of clothing before tossing it into each respective crew member's basket. She didn't bother to fold the clothes, however, she did fold the sheets and bedding.

“So you finally came out of your room?” a slightly gruff voice teased as the smell of cigarette smoke came to invade (y/n)’s nose

“Beckmen put that out,” Mel spun to glare at Shanks’s right-hand man, Benn Beckmen, “Do not make all of the clean laundry smell like cigarettes… again” 

Beckmen laughed, “Ok jeez (y/n) I'll put it out.” he dropped his cigarette and squished it under his foot, “So what did Shanks do?”

“He didn't do anything wrong I promise.” (y/n) handed Beckmen his basket full of clean clothes. Beckmen was Shanks's leash. He made it his role to keep Shanks from doing things the crew would regret. 

“So then, why were you being a shut-in?” Beckman pressed. He knew both Shanks and (y/n) well enough that he could tell that something had happened between them. (y/n) wasn't the only one acting weird, Shanks had been mopey since lunch.

“Well Mom if you have to know,” (y/n) threw her hands up in surrender. She hoped the nickname would get under his skin. “We kissed.” 

Beckmen shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Why did that make you hide in your room.” he didn't mind the nickname, especially since it was (y/n) calling him it. What big strong man didn't like to be called a demeaning nickname by a pretty girl?

(y/n)’s face flushed, “Because I'm a dumb girl who doesn't know what to do now.” She paused before adding, “That's not me asking you for advice it's me answering your question.”

Beckmen wasn't dumb he had seen the way the (h/c) haired girl acted around Shanks. The girl liked the redhead. “Did the kiss not go well?” Beckmen asked her softly.

“I think it went good, It’s just,” (y/n) wasn't sure how to explain her concerns, “I have absolutely no experience. I don't want Shanks to be disappointed.” She winced at her own words hoping she didn't sound too pathetic.

“You have no clue how men think sweetheart.” Beckman chuckled. “Shanks doesn't care what experience you have.” he decided not to tell her that Shanks would probably be thrilled to be her first.

“So I'm just overthinking things?” (y/n) asked. 

“Yes, you are,” Beckmen rustled her hair. The whole crew knew (y/n) was a bit on the innocent side. They didn't know much about her past however they had the idea she had been fairly sheltered from people. She had little cues that let them know she hadn't socialized much as a kid.

“Thank you Beckmen,” (y/n) gave the crew mom a hug.

“No problem,” Beckmen hugged her back before letting her go and picking up his laundry basket. “Go talk to Shanks when you get a chance,” he said as he walked away. His job was done, the issue could work itself out now.

######

(y/n) had dropped everyone else's laundry off to them, and now she was just standing in front of Shanks’s door holding his laundry basket. She had realized how her reaction must have seemed to him. She felt bad and wanted to apologize to him but was having a hard time working up the courage to knock on his door.

She knew she couldn't spend the whole night awkwardly standing in front of the captain's door. She closed her eyes and counted to three before knocking on the door. She had to do this.

“Come on in,” Shanks called through the door.

(y/n) balanced the laundry basket against her hip and opened the door before stepping in, “I'm sorry for avoiding you.” she said softly. It would be best to just rip the bandaid off.

Shanks looked up at her, he was sitting at his desk, “Don't be,” he gave the girl a reassuring smile, “So was it just too much for you? Did you relize you didn't actually like me like you thought? And if that's it that's fine don't sweat it. It's perfectly fine if you don’t like me” shanks did like the woman but at the end of the day he’d rather be friends than nothing at all.

“Oh no it's not like that.” (y/n) set the basket down, “I was just,” she sighed, “please don't laugh but I have absolutely no experience with relationships and I didn't know what to do. I know you are someone” (y/n) thought for a moment on how to say it, “with a lot of experience and not usually interested in a monogamous relationship and I wasn't ready to have the conversation of what we are now or if our relationship had changed.”

Shanks silently stared at (y/n) for a long moment, “That has to be the nicest way I have ever been called a man whore.” shanks grinned at (y/n) hoping that cracking a joke would help ease the tension.

(y/n)’s blush grew, “I didn't mean it like that.” She frantically tried to correct herself.

“You’re not wrong, I usually don't go for monogamy but most of the people I'm getting with arnt on my ship. There is usually a mutual understanding that it's just a one-night stand when I'm hooking up with someone. But that's not what I want with you.” He stood up and walked over to (y/n).

(y/n) fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, “What do you want with me?” she asked her heart racing again.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” Shanks reached out and set his hand on her cheek. He really did mean it. (y/n) was a beautiful, intelligent, sweet, and capable woman. If he would settle down for anyone it was her.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” (y/n) leaned into Shanks’s touch. She liked the feeling of him touching her. She wanted to no longer hide from that.

Shanks stepped in close to her, wrapping his arm around her waist, “Well then you’re my girlfriend.” his voice was inching closer to the deep husky tone that drove (y/n) crazy.

(y/n) smiled wrapping her arms around his neck, “I'm your girlfriend,” she purred smiling ear to ear.

[linabirb]

how to write characters, voice dramas and mvs for your ocgram! (kind of? sort of? i'm not an expert?)

do you want to make an ocgram? do you have no idea where to start? maybe you don't know how to come up with characters for your ocgram? voice dramas are way too hard to write? how the hell are you even supposed to write mvs??

well hello there! i hope this guide can help you with doing just that!

as someone who has an ocgram (@linagram hi) and is currently trying to get everything prepared for season 3, i also was struggling. a lot. i'm kinda getting better at organizing everything now, but still, all the work you need or supposed to do for ocgram can be overwhelming, especially if you don't really have much prepared at the moment and you're just getting started.

before we proceed, if you're able to make art, edits or any other visuals for your ocgram, i recommend checking out this guide by @tsuwmya, it has a lot of useful info, references and resources. if you can't do any of that, that's fine too! you having fun with creating is more important and if you don't have the ability to create visuals, that's perfectly understandable. this guide is more about the writing part anyway, haha.

let's get started!

(warning for some spoilers for the milgram novels (at least the first one) just in case!)

this guide will be separated into parts so that it's easier to understand and you can find the part that you think is the most difficult one for you.

worldbuilding.

before we start working on characters and voice dramas, let's say you're just starting out. you want to make an ocgram, but you don't even know where to begin!

now, this is probably going to sound a little scary, but what i recommend doing before writing characters, vds and mvs is some worldbuilding. no, no, i'm not telling you to figure out everything about your ocgram lore (but if you want to, feel free to do so! i actually think it's gonna help you a lot in the future), but try to answer these questions first.

"when does your ocgram take place?"

it can be as specific as a certain date or it can be as vague as "some time before/after canongram". canongram lore doesn't really give us much info to work with so you can go wild. but figuring out even something as simple as whether your ocgram takes place before canongram or after can actually help you a lot!

"is your ocgram closer to canongram or novelgram?"

the music project and the novels' settings have their differences and both settings have their strengths. you don't have to write mvs for the novels-like ocgram, though you will still have to write the memory scenes. also, for a novel-like ocgram your characters are expected to be named after some sort of adjective that could describe their personality or be a reference to their crime/backstory (example: "nervous", "gentle", "two-side"), but their names are still supposed to be revealed closer to the end. meanwhile canongram uses the voice dramas, timeline convos and mvs (and apparently earbuds voicelines) to tell you more about the characters. figuring out the "format" of your ocgram like that can help you a lot too.

now, you have figured out these details. great! if you're feeling like writing more about how your ocgram works, let's think about these parts more.

is your ocgram just like the milgram project you've chosen as a "base"? maybe it even has the same jackalope? is the guard still named "es"? maybe there's more than one guard and more or less than ten (or five in case of novelgram, if i remember correctly) prisoners? does the prison still look exactly the same? maybe something has changed over the months or years? all of this depends on your own preferences and what you decide to do with the story. you can make your ocgram as different from canongram or as similar as you like.

again, we don't know much about canongram at the moment, so don't be afraid of coming up with the whole backstory for the prison.

when you feel like your world is ready, it's time to fill it with characters!

characters.

oh boy, the fun begins. i'm not your mom, so you can do anything you want with your ocs, but if you don't have any character concepts in mind and you don't know what to do, here are some tips!

(we're going with the canongram formula here, but you can adjust it as needed)

as you probably already know, the canongram prisoner pairs have some sort of theme. both haruka and yuno's crimes have something to do with children. both fuuta and muu's crimes have something to do with bullying. you see what i mean. figuring out themes for your prisoners could be a nice start if you don't really have any characters in mind. pick themes that sound interesting to you and that you would like to explore more.

let's go with the theme of "luck" for example. how can two (or one, or three, or any number, really) prisoners share the same theme? how can you show that? maybe one of them is really lucky and the other one is extremely unlucky?

okay, but here's the fun part. how can you apply this theme to murder? maybe one of them was able to successfully get away with murder, meanwhile the other one accidentally killed someone because of their bad luck? and this way you can come up with really cool characters even if you didn't have any ideas in mind before that!

okay, so the milgram's whole thing is that all characters are morally gray in some way. and the character's moral "grayness" is a spectrum. for example, it can go from "eh, they shouldn't be here, honestly" white to "okay this one is kinda fucked up" gray to "JAIL. NOW. OH WAIT YOU ALREADY ARE THERE" black. but again, even the sweetest and kindest characters should have their questionable moments and even the scariest and most dangerous ones should have moments that make you feel sorry for them.

let's take some canongram prisoners as an example. we have haruka. an adorable squishy blorbo, everyone's skrunkly, the guy who everybody kins. don't you feel sorry for him? don't you want to give him a hug? oh, he kills animals, by the way. he also killed a young girl. just so you know.

now, we have muu. a spoiled teenage girl who always get the things she wants and is proud of it. a girl who literally said she's okay with haruka killing himself for her. literally has a song called "it's not my fault". cries every time a minor inconvenience happens and whenever someone suggests something to her, she just goes "i don't wanna..". her father is a landlord. except she also got bullied by her own friends, doesn't understand how real friendships and human connections work, still brings haruka food and checks up on him when nobody else does and it's heavily implied she actually does feel guilty for killing rei. yeah.

my own personal formula goes like this: i come up with a character. i write some things about them and then i take a look at their crime and personality and if i feel like they're a bit too sympathetic, i add a little bit of spice so that it isn't so easy to forgive them.

let's take my oc aimi for example!

she's such a cutie, isn't she? she's also a victim of bullying too.. oh, also she has the biggest number of victims out of all my prisoners. she also seems to be very obsessed with the concept of friendship and if you refuse to be her friend, she will not take it well. she will most likely try to kill all other prisoners in season 3 or at least hurt them in some way because she doesn't see them as friends anymore. she's been voted innocent twice. she has way too much power in her hands at the moment.

okay! now, let's take my oc kei!

a pretty guy! seems like the flirty type. oh, by the way, he takes photos of people being tortured and that's how he makes money (not counting his job as. well. a normal photographer). "oh, well, maybe he didn't have a choice-" he did. he literally does it because he wants to. he likes it. he enjoys it more than his boss. he likes seeing people in pain and believes that hurting someone means showing you love them. he physically and emotionally abused his own little brother for years and the poor guy still can't walk and move properly because of it. he has five victims.

but for some reason, he also has these huge scars on his back. he also was shown crying in his second mv. he was shown as someone helpless and someone who ended up in a very dangerous situation because of his victims. so.. is he the real victim here? or is he just trying to look more pitiful?

i think you're already starting to understand what i mean. of course, you have all the freedom to do anything you want with your characters. make them as dangerous or as cute as you like. but if you want them to have this "milgram vibe", i suggest you try to find "balance" between their traits that make them look forgivable and the ones that make them look unforgivable!

we can't forget about the guards though! does your guard have all their memories intact? do they remember their name, their past, etc? maybe they're just like the canon es and they don't remember anything at all? do they have their own jackalope or maybe they do their job without a fluffy little bunny around? what is their role here? are they more of a "self-insert"/"audience surrogate" or are they their own character with a backstory and everything? maybe they're an active type who has very deep relationship dynamics with the prisoners and talks to them a lot even when they're not interrogating them? or maybe they're just a creacher? maybe they just do their job and don't really talk to them? they're just standing there.. menacingly.. all of this is up to you to decide!

of course, the relationship dynamics between the characters are very important! first of all, look at your overall cast, when you're done with them. what kind of relationship do you imagine them having? maybe you see them as a found family? maybe all of them are friends? maybe all of them are kissing passionately in the moonlight? maybe all of them hate each other? maybe they even don't care about each other at all! again, it's all your choice and it depends on what kind of characters you're working with.

if you're stuck and you're not sure where to begin, i think a good start would be taking a look at your prisoner pairs and try to figure out the dynamic between the prisoners from each pair. what are their parallels like? how similar are they? how different? do they like each other because of their similarities/differences or they hate each other because of them?

okay, so when you're done with characters, a much scarier part appears.

plot.

so, what do you write first? is it the voice dramas? maybe mvs?

i think it really depends on a person and what you personally find most comfortable, but from my own experience i actually would advise you to work on the vds and mvs first before writing and posting a character's profile.

you see, it's possible that while you're in the process of writing the voice drama, you will notice that the character's personality is much different from what you had written in their profile and originally had in mind for them. of course, it doesn't mean that it will definitely happen to you, but this happened to a lot of my ocs, haha.

so that this doesn't happen but you also have an idea of how your character is supposed to act, try writing down or simply making a mental note about your oc's main personality traits. maybe they're the most extroverted one? maybe they get tired easily? maybe they flirt with everyone they meet? keep those traits in mind, but also give yourself the freedom to explore their character and make them more deep in the process. maybe while you write the most extroverted prisoner's voice drama, you will realize that they actually don't like other prisoners that much or while you write the sleepy prisoner's voice drama, you will get an idea about them not wanting to face their reality and use sleeping as a method of escapism.

if it helps, i personally work on my ocgram in this order: voice dramas > music videos > character profiles, but of course, you can adjust it to your preference.

i think it should be obvious that you should work on the characters' crimes and backstories before you actually start writing the voice dramas and posting stuff about them. sure, you can make it up as you go, if you're confident enough, but i strongly recommend you have a plan or at least a concept of what your character's crime is supposed to be. it will make everything much easier for you!

about backstories: you don't have to, i don't know, come up with names for every single member of your character's family, but i recommend thinking about your oc's backstory outside of their crime. what was their childhood like? what about their teenage years? do they have any friends? what's their relationship with their family like? all these details can help you understand your character's motives, personality, crime and other stuff. also it's simply fun!

so, let's start with the voice dramas.

voice dramas.

(i've also answered a vd-related question here!)

voice dramas can be very hard to write, so let's think about what makes them hard for you first.

maybe you just don't have any ideas? maybe you don't know what the characters are supposed to talk about?

what personally helps me when i start writing the voice dramas is asking myself this question:

"why are these guys even here?"

probably sounds weird, but if you think about it, it actually makes everything a little easier to understand.

why is the guard here? most likely to interrogate the prisoner.

why is the prisoner here? most likely to answer the guard's questions.

okay, we're getting somewhere.

now, how would your guard interrogate the prisoner? of course, it really depends on your guard's personality. maybe they would try to make the prisoner feel more comfortable? or would they rather threaten them and scare them?

now, let's add the prisoner's personality to this equation. what is your prisoner like? how would they react to the guard's questions? what do they think about the guard? are they scared of them? maybe they want to be friends with them? what do they think about milgram in general?

let's put these personalities in one room now and give them a moment. how will they interact? what will they think about each other?

if you're not sure what your guard is supposed to ask about, you can always use the canon voice dramas for reference, but my personal method is simply thinking about what my guard is most concerned about or interested in. and yes, this goes for the guards who don't care about anything too!

maybe your guard wants to make sure the prisoners are doing okay? in this case, they'd probably want to ask about how they're feeling first. or maybe your guard is more focused on the prisoner's crime. then they'd probably start asking about that right away.

okay, your guard has asked a question! how will the prisoner answer?

depending on your prisoner's crime, personality and backstory, they may be okay with revealing some things, but would never want to talk about something else. maybe they're okay with talking about their murder method, their victim and all, but they will never tell you what their motive is. if you're only getting started with the first season, try to reveal something they're okay with first! then you can talk about the other things in later seasons.

what helps me a lot is separating my prisoners' crimes into parts and sort of.. figuring out which parts should be revealed very early and which ones should be saved for later.

for example, maybe we can reveal the prisoner's murder weapon and method in the first season, their victim's identity in the second one and their motive in the third one.

what also helps me with writing the voice dramas is simply "visualizing" everything and imagining how it would go in a visual novel, anime, actual voice drama, etc. also remember that since it's a voice drama, you're kinda supposed to tell everything through sounds and, well, voices! so for example, if you want to tell the reader that the prisoner is nervous, maybe you can make the guard say "you look nervous" or simply make the prisoner say "i'm kinda nervous".

music videos.

mvs are something everyone does a bit differently. maybe you can actually draw/animate your prisoners' mvs. maybe you can write song lyrics for them. maybe you can simply write their mvs' descriptions. it all depends on your skills and what you're working with. so here i will simply talk about how to come up with an idea for a music video.

firstly, what are you supposed to reveal in your prisoner's mv? is it their murder method? is it their victim's identity? maybe something else? keep that in mind so that it's easier for you to drop hints to that thing.

now, what can we do for the visual part? is there anything you associate with the prisoner? a certain theme, aesthetic, etc? even simple objects can help, think about how many canongram prisoners have an object as their "theme": yuno has balloons, muu has an hourglass, kazui has an apple, etc. now, try to think how you can reveal something about the prisoner through this theme. for example, in yuno's case, balloons are a reference to her pregnancy. milgram loves symbolism, so take advantage of that, haha.

what also helps me a lot is simply listening to music that i associate with that prisoner and kinda coming up with music videos in the process. watching actual music videos can also help when you're looking for inspiration.

also, don't forget that everyone's music videos literally come from their brains. what does your prisoner think about their crime? what do they remember about it? how do they feel about it? do they feel guilty? do they feel like they've done nothing wrong? do they wish to forget it? do they see it as their biggest achievement? it can also help with writing song lyrics, if you're doing that.

if you're writing a mv description and you're not drawing/animating a music video, i would advise you to try to describe as many things as possible, as long as it's important. yes, we all love noticing small details while rewatching the milgram mvs, we all love the tiny things that are important for understanding the character's crime, but sadly, if we can't see it, how else are we supposed to know about it? so yeah, if the color of the curtains is important in your story, you should describe it too.

anddddd i think that's all for now! this is mostly done for people who haven't gotten to the second/third seasons of their ocgrams yet, so stuff like the prisoners' reactions to their verdicts, their punishments, etc, is not here. but you can ask me about it (and if you have any other questions, you can also ask me)!

hopefully this helps someone <3

[asha-mage]

i'm on desktop and i'm too lazy to pull up emojis but imagine a pepper emoji right here

The best adaption of the famous Superman story 'For the Man Who Has Everything' is not the Justice League episode of the same name (though that is a very good episode and adaption) but rather, the Supergirl season 1 episode 'For the Girl Who Has Everything'.

As with the comic, Kara- like Clark- is ensnared by the Black Mercy, a plant that entraps it's victim in a hallucinogenic vision of their ideal life, and like Clark, we learn that Kara's vision of an ideal life is living out her time with her family on a Krypton that is never destroyed.

What's interesting is that Clark's vision of Krypton is not really grounded in anything- it can't be. He was a baby when he left and he has no memories to cling to. It's shown that what Clark really wants is being able to live in a world where not only does he not have the power to be a hero but their is no need for heroes at all. His visions of his parents, of what Kryptonian life might have looked like, all of it- it's all a fabrication. Even his dream wife is clearly just 'Lois Lane but on Krypton'. Clark Kent's darkest fantasy is "I don't have to be Superman anymore", because being Superman is a terrible sacrifice, but one he feels he has to make, like he does at the end of the story when he finally breaks free.

But that's not the case for Kara, because Kara's darkest fantasy is not "I don't have to be Supergirl anymore". Kara likes being Supergirl even despite all the sacrifices it demands of her, in part because its her way of making up for not being there for Clark/Kal El when he first got to earth. Instead Supergirl's darkest fantasy really is 'Krypton was never destroyed and none of this ever happened'- because for all the good in her life: from her adopted family, to everything Clark has become, to the friends she cares about so deeply, to everything she has done as Supergirl- she would trade it all to go back to Krypton, back to her family, her world, her life before it was all violently ripped away from her.

Kara remembers Krypton in a way Clark doesn't, and so her vision is more cruel in a way his can't be. Those visions of her parents aren't guess work or fabrication, that's really as she remembers them, and her vision of Krypton and what it was like are grounded firmly in her lived experience. For her, she is seeing people and places that where killed and destroyed, and that she mourned. Clark's vision is of a life he thinks he can never have. Kara's vision is of a life she had but was taken from her and unlike Clark that means that she can not escape on her own.

Instead her adopted sister Alex has to go into the vision to try and reach her, and in the process delivers one of the best speeches in the Arrowverse, or a Superfamily story:

Life isn't perfect. I know it can be hard and it can be lonely. Especially for you. You have sacrificed and you have lost so much. I wish you could've had a life with your family. But even if you did, Kara, it wouldn't be this. Because this isn't real. And deep down, Kara. Deep down, you know it. I can't promise you a life without pain and loss because pain is a part of life. It's what makes us who we are. It is what makes you a hero. You fight every day to keep people from struggling like you have. I know you can remember, please. Please try, Kara. Because Earth needs Supergirl.

This finally breaks through and sets Kara free, because Alex is right. Earth does need her, and just because being Supergirl is not the same burden for her as it to Clark, it doesn't change that, and it doesn't change that it demands incredible sacrifices of her- including saying goodbye to her family and her world for a second time.

Anyways all this to say while the Arrowverse made some wild choices later on, it still had a way better understanding of the DC heroes and what makes their stories tick then basically anyone they've ever let write a Superman movie for the last twenty years.

[loth-creatures]

I’d love to hear your wall of text about the Sion’s voyage!

Aight, so if there's one thing I hated about the show it's that the journey to a whole ass new galaxy felt like it took 5 minutes. So in my star war it takes roughly 7 weeks and it fucking SUCKS

Disclaimer; this is just a huge mess from my head, nothing is set in stone, and I'm only really planning to comicify the last few parts ;)

Also cw for some implied self-harm ideation, terrible coping mechanisms, deteriorating mental health, violence and injuries (just mentioned, not in detail)

To set the scene, they're using the training/rec room as Sabine’s prison bc Wolfbine is too big for the actual brig lol. Much to the entire crew's irritation. The first week or two they just handcuff her in a corner at blasterpoint whenever they want to use it I guess, and find a closet to lock loose equipment in. At least she gets some entertainment. She probably also gets beat up a few times (you should see the other guy) for commenting on people's techniques. But eventually they decide she probably won't try anything and stop caring she's there, so she's left alone for the most part.

She spends a lot of time working out, bc otherwise she is strongly considering bashing her head into the wall. Having to sit alone as a human and pace in circles as a wolf for days on end with the weight of her decision and all kinds of fresh guilt is doing terrible things to her head...She is also spending a lot of time trying and failing not to sob and scream in the shower when no one's around. There is also a viewport in the rec room and Sabine spends an unhealthy amount of time staring into the rainbow swirl of hyperspace. She can't tell whether or not she's hallucinating the strange shapes that occasionally drift into view, singing strange songs that she can feel more than hear. It reminds her of the ocean and she shudders and dreams of drowning, being crushed by the depths. And she dreams of Ezra alone and lost in this void. There's no easy way to break free of such thoughts when she's essentially trapped in a fish bowl.

Meanwhile, Shin hates Sabine even more now for making her a Wolfwalker. She is not adjusting well to turning into a giant beast every time she tries to sleep and on a cramped vessel with little space to stretch those legs. Having been bitten only just before boarding the Sion, she hasn't had the chance to run wild for miles with the wind in her fur; all she knows is that the journey feels twice as long and horrid when she's consious 24/7. Baylan, on the other hand, is like DO YOU REALIZE HOW AWESOME THIS IS?! YOU SHOULD BE THANKING HER. He's not jealous persay, but. Well. Careful what you wish for...

Wolf Sabine and Shin are both getting major zoochosis smh. It's a miracle Shin hasn't killed a random crew member yet. Wolfbine behaves for maybe a week before she starts chewing up the flooring and howling and screaming husky style just to be a little shit. See how long it takes before someone threatens to shoot her, muzzle her, throw her out the airlock (not long). She can't afford to antagonize the crew too much bc there is only one person on the entire ship who wants her there and he has limited authority. Baylan is quick to remind her of this.

He also makes several attempts to talk to her and get on better terms, as he would like to learn more about the wolves. He tells her of the old fragments of stories of Wolfwalkers he found in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and his facsination with them and how chasing such tales lead to his other ambitions. Lowkey info-dumping about all the fairy-tales and mythalogical stuff that Shin never took an interest in. Sabine is deathly bored enough to tolerate it to extent, but she is not forgiving him for 'killing' Ahsoka, for digging in her head, for putting her in this situation, and she is absolutely kicking herself for having bitten Shin. For letting anyone affiliated with the Empire close to Lothal's secrets. Too her it's put a deep crack through her promise to protect Lothal, perhaps not as much as having given Thrawn a way home, but she's going to try her damnest to undo that one, and shoves that looming guilt aside as best she can, instead spiraling about the fact that she made Shin a Wolfwalker and short of killing her there is no undoing that. So most of her conversations with Baylan end with telling him to go fuck himself.

Just now realizing I've never gone into detail about why Sabine bit Shin. It was a complete accident. Split second reaction out of pain after taking another small slice from Shin’s lightsaber during their fight on Seatos, which she was able to heal herself but it slowed her down enough for Shin to escape. With a nasty little nip to the arm.

That all said Sabine does not want to kill Shin, in fact she's just starting to feel sorry for her. Shin might be all MY ARCH NEMESIS SABINE WREN, but from the beginning Sabine is just like ugh can this random chick stop making my life harder 🙄

And if she's this miserable as a wolf rn, she can imagine what Shin's going through as a first timer, which is all her fault :( plus the fact that as wolves they are instinctively drawn to other wolves and each of their suffering seems to exacerbate the other's. They are both so lonely. 2 weeks in and (human)Sabine is bored and desperate enough to try heckling Shin into sparring with her, on the rare occasion she passes by (Shin’s been avoiding that room). 3 weeks in and Shin's gotten bored and desperate enough to accept the invitation.

I hc that during a friendly match, most Force-users will refrain from using the Force against a non-Force-user for the most part. Shin is not interested in friendly and absolutely hammers Sabine unless Baylan is there to remind her to play nice. Sabine is fine with this. She wants Shin to use the Force (come at me bro). If anyone's gonna be holding back it's Sabine. She wants to get as familiar as possible with Shin's fighting skill and habits without revealing the full extent of her own, while also slowly learning to anticipate and work around Shin’s use of the Force. That way she'll have an advantage the next time they fight for reals. It's difficult to impossible to hold back though, while still presenting enough of a challenge to keep Shin coming back for more.

While Sabine is more experienced, with a wider range of techniques and more refined skill, Shin is still skilled and powerful and it's hardly a fair fight without her armor and gear. She gets her shit rocked.

Sabine is very rarely able to beat Shin when she's using the Force. But she can withstand her. Many of their fights don't end with a quick, decisive victory so much as Shin just wearing Sabine down until she physically can't fight anymore though she refuses to tap out or surrender. Because for one, it's pissing Shin off, which is fun. And for two, ending the fight means returning to the hell that is sitting alone and staring out that window until it makes her sick in the head. She would kill a man for a single can of paint.

While Shin is toying with Sabine and using her as a bunching bag on the basis that she asked for it, keeps asking for it, doesn't know when to give up, and totally deserves it 😤, she is no easy opponent and Shin is continuously shocked by Sabine's ability to survive her. She was supposed to be just another enemy to tear through, yet has survived two murder attempts, and Shin is now stuck with her on this godforsaken ship for some reason, and she doesn't even have the grace to admit when she's defeated. Unstoppable force has met unmovable object.

Shin simultaneously resents and admires her, though doesn't quite respect her yet. And she definitely fears her a little (though she would never admit that). I kinda get the vibe that Shin’s never really lost a fight, has never truly been left for dead at the end of a battle, and the thought terrifies her. Either she is invincible or she is dead. Meanwhile Sabine can be coughing up blood and she'll be like 'cool see you tmr'✌️😎 The fact that Shin probably deleted one of Sabine's kidneys on Lothal and she seems hardly intimidated is well. Intimidating. And annoying. And hot.

I feel like at some point Baylan would point out that Shin could probably learn a thing or two from Sabine if she would stop beating the shit out of her for two seconds. Shin is already aware of that but doesn't want to admit it.

Meanwhile Sabine just doesn't care anymore what happens to her as long as she lives long enough to get off this accursed vessel, doesn't care how hurt she gets, as long as it passes the time and distracts her from her spiraling thoughts. She's offered a medic multiple times and refuses each time. She doesn't want them seeing the full extent of her injuries and then finding out she can heal herself with the wolf-magic, bc the Empire doesn't need to know about that. She only heals the worst injuries and then gaslights Shin about it. 'You did not break any ribs lol I'm fine quit flattering yourself.' Shin’s like how the fuck are you still standing.

This routine of brutally taking out their frustrations on each other is gonna get old though, and is completely unsustainable. Eventually Shin’s convinced that Sabine is just using her for pain. Which isn't wrong even if it's not the only or even primary reason Sabine keeps asking. Sabine calls her out on fighting like a coward and enjoying hurting her anyway. Shin goes and sulks for a few days after that (not without punching Sabine in face first).

Ok time out. What the hell is Shin’s deal anyway. I have only some half-baked ideas about Baylan and Shin’s...thing. They're like the closest thing we've gotten to 'grey Jedi?' I guess? I've been operating under the assumption that that's what they're essentially trying to be (though it's not what they'd call themselves), something more than Jedi, Baylan says, and that 'more' is just chasing power. They will inevitably fall completely. Probably need to watch the show again to get a better read on them tbh but I would rather not. It will hurt my feelings again :( Baylan is like the mountain. He's calm, he's steady and the darkness erodes him slowly. He thinks he's successfully toeing the line with the dark side, but his faults are most evident in Shin's training. She is like a hurricane. The Force rips through her, chaotic and volatile and her control is iron yet brittle. She hasn't known inner peace a day in her life. She just taught herself restraint in the sense that she suppresses her power until she needs it to plow through her enemies. She will fall far more quickly than her master. Baylan's teachings follow the Jedi's to an extent but once the darkness is let in, those lessons become skewed and contradicted, and Shin is a mess because of it, only mirroring her master's control on the surface. Baylan isn't the worst teacher but he is not a good one. While Shin loves and trusts Baylan, she is getting tired and frustrated following his mysterious whispers of legends to an end he never explains clearly. And she is afraid.

ANYWAY, once Shin’s done sulking, one of these days her and Sabine are gonna have a genuine conversation or two and maybe agree to an actually friendly sparring match in which they agree to not just blindly pulverize each other. They take breaks and drink water and tend to their wounds like adults. And Sabine is like you know, we could just. Hang out. As wolves at least. It would suck sooo much less if you'd come play with me as a wolf xoxo. They slowly transition into a more definitive Truce.

Shin does start hanging out in the rec room as a wolf. Sabine still isn't volunteering info on the wolf magic but she does talk about what its like being wolfwalker in general. They tussel and chase each other around, often getting too rough but also loud enough that someone will come yell at them to stfu before they really hurt each other. It's much easier to take naps as wolves too after they've had a chance to burn some energy which makes the entire ship more peaceful.

However, you can't just be the first vessel in centuries to cross between galaxies and not have some kind of disaster right? Well it turns out the strange shapes out the viewport were not hallucinations. The Sion is essentially traveling through the cosmic deep ocean and there are bigger, older things than even the Purrgil out there. Nothing has an interest in attacking the Sion, but at some point something very large drifts close enough to jolt the Sion off course and shorts out the entire system. This ends up forcing them to drop out of hyperspace in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere.

It takes a few days to get the ship running again and recalculate the jump. And here's where Sabine gets to be a hero and earn some respect around here, bc most of their mechanics are droids which also shorted out and lost power. Seeing as they are at risk of losing life support, they let Sabine help with repairs and turns out she's one of the best mechanics on board, even considering the newer technology she doesn't have as much experience with. This also allows her to get more familar with the ship and find the best places to hide out when she eventually makes her escape, while simultaneously giving the crew more reason to let their guard down on her. Including Shin.

That first loss of power is the worst but there are several more blackouts along the way. Human Sabine and Shin are almost getting along now. They still don't like each other but they are hooking up (it does not fix them), and playing card games by flashlight and truth or dare. Maybe Shin even scrounges up some art supplies for Bean. Now she can pass the time hiding sharpie dicks all over the place. They are almost friends by the time there are three days left in the journey and Sabine is preparing to make her move.

Baylan was probably the one to initiate letting Sabine have her lightsaber to sparr occasionally. He wanted to test her metal as well. I think it would be interesting if they sparred a couple times. Baylan is much more chivalrous than Shin and also goes into teacher mode about sword fighting. Sabine isn't a novice anymore but he's still far more experienced. Shin is like no no no we are not adopting her Dad NO-

So anyway escape day comes, Sabine almost cronches Baylan to death, and Shin is beyond angry. Mostly at herself for letting her guard down enough to allow this to happen, she didn't really expect Sabine to not pull something like this in the end right? It's stupid to feel betrayed when it was so inevitable. She is still 100% gonna take it out on Sabine though, especially for almost killing her master.

Despite the escape attempt, Thrawn lets Sabine go as he does in the show, in the hope that she'll lead them to Ezra’s human body. He figures if anyone could find him, it would be a fellow wolfwalker who considers him dear enough to risk the fate of her entire galaxy. Everyone else is like you're just letting her go?? After all that??? And Thrawn's just like lol what did you expect from her? That's Sabine Wren. They probably do attempt to scan the ship for sabotage but it's so huge and her kyber bomb is so small and rudimentary that they don't find it.

At this point, Sabine is run utterly ragged. Bedraggled even. Having not slept in 2 days,(no room to wolf in the Sion's walls so she just had to stay awake 💀) suffered a heart attack at Baylan's hand, and got beat up by WolfShin again. She's visibly about to collapse and Thrawn's probably like 'do you...want to spend the night before you go? And a medic?' He knows he's most likely sending her to perish in the wilderness anyway, but was hoping to give her at least a chance at finding human Ezra for them. Sabine says hell no I'm getting out of here before you change your mind.

She rides until she actually does collapse, hides her body as best she can and continues as a wolf. She figures they let her go for a reason, and plans to run in erratic circles all night every night to hopefully throw them off, only later investigating any clues she finds as human for a few sporadic hours in the day. Thrawn does send Shin to track her at a distance. If she happens to find the trail of Wolf!Ezra first, kill her. This hunt through the wild will go on for several days at least, before there's any sign of Ezra.

[linkeduniverse-writing]

General LU Headcanons part 1

Heya! So I'm starting this blog with some general headcanons about the boys, I think I'll divide it in three parts so it's not too long. First up are Four, Hyrule, and Legend! Hope you enjoy :D

Part 2 Part 3

Four

It takes him so long to emerge from sleep

Like he'll be in a haze for like 20 minutes, not able to form any coherent thoughts

Which is kind of a surprise because he's one of the early risers, and is super reactive once fully awake

He tends to talk to himself a lot, mostly when he does something or thinks through a problem

It's mostly to exteriorize all the noise inside his head tho

The others aren't as weirded out by it than he feared, and he's thankful for it

Whenever they're in a market or just in a town, he always finds himself drawn to craftsmanship

Like if they need to interrogate people about monsters and stuff, he'll go ask artisans mostly

He feels more comfortable around them

It feels like home

Also he likes to compare his work to other blacksmith's

He feels like he has a lot to learn still, and he's very curious about how the craft has evolved with time

He doesn't know first aid and the scent of blood makes him sick, but if his teammates need tending he'll do his best

He tries to see their wounds as metal work needing repairs

It helps him keep his cool

But he'd rather leave it to someone else

Hyrule

Another early riser, but he hates it

He loves sleeping in and wishes his body would let him sometimes

But oh well, when it's time to wake up it's time to wake up

He's a very light sleeper too, like the wind blowing in the leaves above would wake him up

He hates it

Botany nerd

Loves keeping track of the new plants he finds along the way

He always asks the Link from the Hyrule they're in if he knows about it, and will pick them up if he can't get an answer, to study them later hopefully

He rarely can, but when they have a moment he'll either find a plant book (and a Link who can read it for him) or straight up ask someone if they know about the plant

He's always so polite and genuinely curious, people can't help but answer

He accidentally set Sky's stuff on fire once when showing off his fire magic to Wind

Sky was too impressed to truly be mad at him tho

(Also Hyrule replaced all of the stuff that couldn't be repaired, don't ask him how)

He doesn't mind blood and grime and gore, but can't handle anything with maggots in it

He'll stitch up anything, he'll put bones back in place if necessary, but one bug? In a wound? Don't count on him

He can keep his calm even before the grossest injuries, which is why he's often fixing up the others after a fight

He rarely uses his healing magic tho, he knows he'll tire too easily, and he can't help them if he can barely stay awake

So potions potions potions

He's a gentle caregiver but you better do as he says when you're hurt

Legend

A heavy sleeper, and he dreams a lot, but he never remember them

Probably for the best if you ask him

He usually wakes late, but never truly rested unfortunately

That never stoped him from being immediately efficient and fully awake tho

He knows he has a reputation of being sharp and closed off, but he's a really good listener

He's the kind of person curse the world with you when you vent until you're in the right headspace to find a solution

He kind of encourages the others in their dumbest ideas just to see what'll happen

(not the too dangerous ones, of course)

But he's curious, and after all the adventures he's been through, he believes that if he survived all of this, surely Wild will survive trying to cook a bomb flower

He did, but Twilight almost died of stress

He's the one who helps Warrior with refilling their inventory when they're low on supplies

He's a great negotiator and can get them twice the supplies for the same price

He's sometimes even charming enough to get them all a free meal

It's his favorite skill

He doesn't mind blood but will not look at broken limbs

Not his own, not other's

He tries to keep his cool around the others to not make them panic, but he really hates broken bones

If one of them is hurt, he'll try to distract them and make sure they have water and enough heat

He'll also keep them in place if they move around too much for Hyrule or Warrior to work on them

He's not gentle, but he's still reassuring somehow

[deathbxnny]

☆《Returning home to you.》☆

-----♡

A/N: Alright so, I'm noticing, that I'm getting really burnt out with writing for hsr recently and to keep my mental health from tanking completely, I've decided to write something for my current Chainsaw man obsession as a small break! I hope you guys will like it!<33

Featured characters: Aki, Denji, Power, Makima

Content: Fluff, established relationship, some angst because it's csm, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Aki Hayakawa

For Aki, the best time of the day, is him finally being able to come home to you. He never thought that he'd ever find a s/o to return to after a long day of work, as he was always so hellbent on revenge and could die at any given moment due to his occupation. And yet, he still found you, the only person that made living still worth a damn on his hardest days.

You take care of him so well too. You always greet Aki at the door, happily helping him out of his jacket, as you tell him about the mundane things you've done that day. You give him a sense of normalcy he always secretly craved to have deep down. He is starved for attention and knows he's lucky to have you.

The moment he steps through the front door and sees you, he can leave the evil truth of the world behind, until his next shift inevitably begins. Sure, not everything always goes as smoothly and he knows, that this won't last forever. But in your arms, he can pretend that it will.

-----♡

》Denji

He sometimes thinks that he's dreaming, whenever he comes home to you. He still can't believe, that he actually achieved everything he always wanted to. He has a pretty s/o, good food and a seemingly better getting life! It's all he wanted and more! So whenever he does come home, he immideatly pulls you into a hug, happily muttering to himself about how proud he is.

He loves it, when you cook food for him. He doesn't care what it is or if it's good. Denji doesn't discriminate and whatever you cook is certainly much better than whatever he was used to. He'll practically praise everything you do for him. As a thank you, he'll get you flowers or gifts. Even if they aren't the best, you still know that he appreciates you greatly.

To him, you are one the first people that gave him the sense of a home. He was always only able to imagine how it must've felt like, but now that he has it for real, he won't let you go. He can't let you go. Not when you make him feel like a loved human for once.

-----♡

》Power

It's a miracle, that she even properly finds her way home, after a long day at work. And when does, she's usually muddy or covered with blood, which results in her being forced into a bath, before she dirties the floor you just cleaned. Meowy often watches you struggle with Power, as she calls out for the cats help.

You are her favourite human and should be proud that you are. She tells you so everyday and expects you to thank her, which also earns her a deadpan and a shake of your head. But as much as she acts superior to you, she actually does appreciate everything you do for her. Especially the safe home you provide for her and her cat.

She often therefore thanks you in unconventional ways, like bringing you dead birds or wild flowers she found... she's trying, I promise. But her presence is surely a thank you enough too, right?

-----♡

》Makima

Makima comes home calmly and seemingly stress-free. She often always has something to give you and her dogs as well. Pretty flowers for you and treats for them. She always greets you all cheerfully, before just simply demanding hugs and affection from you.

She clinges onto you at home, thanking you for your loyalty and being so good for her, before she helps you out with some house chores. She loves it, when you do domestic things together, as she doesn't really have the need to rest after work.

She never speaks of work with you and you never ask either. She doesn't let any of her "co-workers" know that she has a partner anyways, as you are her little secret. You are a separate part of her life as a devil hunter and the only sense of normalcy she has outside of it. It's why she appreciates you so much and makes sure you always know that, even after she had a long and tiring day.

-----♡

A/N: So this is my first time writing for csm characters and I hope it's okay! It honestly helped me feel alot better too!<33

Csm requests are also appreciated!<33