#but the hardest part of doing this would be the confidence on camera

[hanzajesthanza]

that would be a really fun (though exhausting) video to make, just "explain the witcher [entire series] from memory"

[verstappenverse]

A Fine Line

Requested by anon: "Would you ever do a fake dating fic with Max? I think that could be fun maybe they go to a wedding or have to share a bed or is for PR, you choose :)"

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Forced to fake date for PR, you and Max attend a high-profile wedding only to realise that maybe some feelings can’t be faked. - fake dating / one bed trope / enemies to lovers

Author’s note: Sorry this one took a while anon, it ended up being a bit longer than originally planned! I hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

6k words / Masterlist

The first time you met Max Verstappen you were there on assignment, shadowing a day in the life of a driver for an in-depth feature. Max, already a world champion, was an enigma you’d been eager to unravel—intense, brilliant, and the name on everyone’s lips.

You approached him tentatively, armed with your questions and a cautious smile, but it didn’t take long to realise that interviews were the last thing on his mind that day. Polite but curt, he answered with the bare minimum, his gaze constantly darting back toward the garage as if he had better things to do. He wasn’t rude exactly, just detached, his focus entirely on the next session.

“What’s the hardest part of juggling fame and racing?” you’d asked, pen poised.

He glanced at you briefly before replying, “I don’t really think about it.”

The conversation didn’t improve from there.

You wrote it off as part of his intense personality—laser-focused, unapologetic, and unwilling to entertain distractions. But something about his demeanour irked you, even then. You didn’t know if it was the confidence or arrogance of someone who knew he was the best and knew he had nothing to prove off-track.

The article went to print, and you moved on thinking Max Verstappen would be a footnote in your career, nothing more than an anecdote about difficult interviews. You were wrong.

Over the next few years, your paths crossed more times than you could count as your company expanded into motorsports media. First, it was another feature, this time at a glitzy sponsor event where Max was as uninterested in mingling as ever. Then a mid-season documentary where you were assigned to follow his team for a week. Somewhere along the way, what had started as indifference between you two evolved into a dynamic you couldn’t quite define.

There was a sharpness to your interactions, an edge that didn’t seem to dull no matter how often you met. Max would roll his eyes when you asked questions he deemed unnecessary, and you’d pointedly ignore him when he made sarcastic comments under his breath. But beneath the mutual irritation, there was something else—an understanding, perhaps, that neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt.

You could see it in the way his friends teased him whenever you were around.

“Careful Max,” Daniel had said once, smirking as he leaned against the garage wall. “You two together, it’s better than most reality TV.”

Max had glared at him but didn’t deny it, which only made Daniel laugh harder. He shot back a dry, “At least it’s not fake,” earning a round of chuckles from the surrounding crew.

You gave as good as you got, though. After one particularly grueling race weekend, when Max had snapped at a camera crew for invading his space, you’d quipped, “Does the championship leader need a nap?”

He’d glared at you but couldn’t quite hide the twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

The dynamic became part of the paddock lore, your sharp-tongued sparring and his witty retorts, both of you unwilling to back down. Beneath the teasing and the occasional tension, there was a begrudging respect. Max never dismissed your work outright, and you never underestimated his talent.

Deep into the 2024 season your manager called you into an emergency meeting, the kind where the tension was palpable before anyone had even spoke. You’d been sitting across from her in your shared office space, nursing a coffee that had gone lukewarm when she dropped the bombshell.

“We have a potential solution,” she began, choosing her words carefully. Her tone had that familiar mix of optimism and hesitation that always made you wary.

“For what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

She exhaled, leaning forward with a steely determination. “For the mess after the breakup.”

Ah, the breakup. The one that had been plastered across every gossip column and dissected mercilessly online. Your ex, who thrived on curated chaos, had turned what should’ve been a quiet separation into a public spectacle. Cryptic tweets, veiled Instagram posts, and leaked “insider” information painted you as the villain in a narrative you didn’t even recognise. Brands had started to question your reliability. Followers who once adored you now flooded your comment sections with doubt.

“I told you I’m working on that,” you replied, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I know you are,” she said, her tone softening just enough to keep you from snapping. “But we need something big, something that shifts the focus completely. Damage control isn’t enough anymore we need reinvention.”

That’s when she said his name. Max Verstappen.

Your coffee cup froze halfway to your lips. “Max… as in…Max?”

“The World Champion himself” she corrected, as if his accolades needed more emphasis. “Look, hear me out before you say anything.”

You leaned back, your stomach sinking as she explained. Max’s team had approached them with an unconventional pitch: a mutually beneficial PR relationship. Max, despite his unprecedented success on the track, had been facing increasing scrutiny in the public eye. His no-nonsense personality and occasional sharp tongue in interviews didn’t exactly scream “approachable,” and attempts to soften his image had largely failed.

“You’re serious,” you said flatly, interrupting her.

“Yes.”

“And they think pairing him with me—” you began, gesturing vaguely, your skepticism evident.

“—Will humanise him while giving you the boost you need to rebuild trust with your audience,” your manager finished smoothly, her tone shifting into the polished confidence she reserved for high-stakes pitches. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk. “This isn’t just about optics. It’s about narrative control.”

You crossed your arms, still not convinced. “How exactly is fake dating someone like Max supposed to build trust? My audience isn’t stupid. If anything, they’ll see right through it.”

She gave you a pointed look, the kind that told you she’d already anticipated every objection you could throw her way. “It’s not about fooling anyone. It’s about resetting your image. Right now, people associate you with drama, thanks to that messy breakup. Pairing you with someone as high-profile as Max reframes the conversation. Suddenly, it’s not about your past it’s about this new, unexpected connection.”

You frowned, skepticism still etched on your face. “And Max? What does he get out of this?”

“Max needs to show a different side of himself too,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “He’s known for being intense and unapproachable. This gives him a chance to look more... balanced. Like someone who can laugh, have fun, and be in a stable relationship. You two are opposites, and that contrast is exactly what makes this work.”

The logic was undeniable, even if you hated it. “So, basically, we’re giving the world a feel-good story,” you said flatly.

“Plus you’ve already got chemistry with him.” She added with a small smirk.

“Chemistry?” You nearly choked on the word. “We can barely stand each other.”

She smirked knowingly. “Exactly. People love that. It’s enemies-to-lovers gold, and you two are halfway there already. Look you two balance each other out. Your brand is warm, open, relatable. Together, it’s an opposites-attract dynamic that will have people hooked.”

You stared at her, trying to wrap your head around it. The logistics, the audacity, the sheer ridiculousness of it all. You didn’t even like Max Verstappen. You barely knew him, and what you did know didn’t inspire confidence.

You snorted. “You’re really banking on people eating this up aren’t you?”

She gave you a pointed look. “You’d be surprised how much people love a good story.”

“Why me, though? Why not some actress or model?”

“They don’t want someone who’s unattainable. They want real. Genuine. Someone who can connect with his fans and expand his reach. And frankly, after everything you’ve been through, this could be the fresh start you need.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. “Okay, fine. Let’s say I agree to this insanity. What makes you think Max Verstappen of all people is going to go along with this?

Your manager didn’t even blink, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, he’s already agreed.”

You froze mid-sigh, your hand dropping from your face. “What?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “He didn’t really hesitate. Apparently, the PR benefits appealed to him.”

“Or he just wanted to see how long it would take before I strangled him,” you muttered under your breath.

You tapped your fingers on the armrest of the chair, the gears turning in your head. “And what happens when this ends? When people realise it was all staged?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” she replied, her voice smooth. “By the time it ends, the focus won’t be on whether it was real or not, It’ll be on how far you’ve both come. This is about resetting your story, not writing it forever.”

Her words lingered, cutting through your resistance. A fresh start. God, you needed one. The idea of pulling yourself out of the shadow of your ex’s antics, of regaining control over your narrative, was tantalising. But still, this? Fake dating a Formula 1 driver?

“I haven’t even agreed, and you’re talking like it’s a done deal,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Because I know you’ll say yes.”

Two days later, after sleepless nights and a long list of pros and cons, you found yourself sitting in a conference room across from Max himself.

He didn’t look thrilled to be there. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room with a mix of boredom and annoyance, his posture relaxed but his expression guarded. He was dressed simply, in a Alphatauri hoodie and jeans, looking every bit the world-class athlete who didn’t have time for PR stunts.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked his team, his Dutch accent making his irritation clear.

“Positive,” one of his PR reps said, their tone overly bright. “We’ve done the research, and we truly believe this will be mutually beneficial for both of you.”

Max’s gaze flicked to you briefly, and you could feel the weight of his judgment. You were used to being analysed, but his scrutiny was sharper than most.

“Trust me, I’m not thrilled either,” you shot back before anyone else could respond.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your attitude. “Great. This should be fun.”

“Look,” one of the PR reps cut in, attempting to mediate, “we know this isn’t ideal, but it’s a short-term arrangement with clear benefits. Public outings, a few coordinated posts, a handful of high-profile events. It’s all very manageable.”

Max leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight. “And what happens when people figure out it’s fake?”

“They won’t,” his manager said confidently. “As long as you both play your parts.”

Play your parts. The phrase hung heavy in the air, a reminder of what this truly was: a performance. Nothing more.

“Fine,” Max said eventually, his voice low and resigned. “But I don’t want this to interfere with my real life more than it already has too.”

“Don’t worry,” you replied, unable to help yourself. “I’m not looking to be a distraction.”

“Good,” he said, his tone clipped.

When you got up to leave the meeting, another Red Bull PR rep caught you in the hallway, his grin far too smug. “Play nice, you two. Or don’t. Either way, it’ll sell.”

You scowled. Max, walking beside you, muttered, “This is going to be a disaster.”

“You’re telling me,” you replied, glancing up at him.

And just like that, the deal was sealed.

The first few weeks were awkward, to say the least. Staged outings dominated your schedules, each meticulously planned by PR teams with an eye for maximum exposure. Charity events, red carpets, a contrived café date for the paparazzi - every encounter felt like a work assignment, not a date.

You’d arrive arm-in-arm, your smiles dazzling and cameras clicking. Max was always impeccably dressed, his hand resting lightly on your waist as if it were second nature.

Between flashes of paparazzi cameras and murmurs of admiration from onlookers, Max leaned in close, his voice low and teasing.

“Did you rehearse that laugh? It’s almost impressive.”

You let out a huff, leaning closer under the guise of whispering something romantic. “You know what’s impressive? That anyone believes you’re charming.”

A low chuckle escaped him quiet enough that only you could hear. “Touché,” he murmured, his face a picture of calm indifference for the cameras, and you found yourself fighting the tiniest urge to laugh.

During a joint Instagram post session complete with coordinated outfits and a faux-candid shot of you laughing at something he’d “said”—he quipped, “If you’re going to post this make sure you get my good side.”

“You have one?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

“Rude,” he replied, smirking just enough to make your stomach flip in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

The banter became a fixture of your so-called relationship. No matter the setting, you both always had something to say.

“Try smiling for once,” you remarked at a gala, your arm threaded through his as you waved to photographers. “It won’t kill you.”

He turned to you, his lips curling into the faintest grin. “See? This is why they hired you. Full of such brilliant ideas.”

The exchanges grated on your nerves. But then there were the moments when the act became easier. Like when he’d guide you through a crowd with a steady hand on the small of your back or offer his jacket without a word when the night turned chilly.

“This is ridiculous,” you groaned one evening after yet another photoshoot featuring a carefully curated “date.” You tossed your heels into the corner of the adjoining suite, rubbing your aching feet.

Max, lounging on the couch, looked up from his phone. “You’re telling me. Do you know how much I hate wearing these suits, I look ridiculous” He gestured to the tailored blazer he hadn’t bothered to take off yet.

“Oh shush, you know you look good,” you muttered.

His lips twitched in amusement. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, flopping onto the opposite end of the couch.

For weeks, this was your routine. The world saw a whirlwind romance, but behind the scenes you were still figuring each other out.

The only time your guard softened was during race weekends. Watching Max in his element was mesmerising. The precision, the focus, the sheer intensity of his drive—it was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His brusque nature made sense in those moments; he wasn’t cold, just singularly devoted to his craft.

“You’re staring,” he said one afternoon, catching you watching him during a debrief.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied quickly, though your cheeks burned.

“I’m not,” he said with a shrug, turning back to his engineer. “I’m just used to it by now.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

The energy between you shifted slowly, almost imperceptibly. Max would catch your eye across a crowded room and smirk, as if sharing an inside joke. And when you fired back with a cutting remark, his grin would linger for far too long.

The turning point came when you were invited to attend a high-profile wedding together. It was one of those events—an invitation extended to only the most influential figures, with a guest list packed with celebrities, businessmen, and the media's who’s who. For you and Max, it wasn’t just an event; it was the test. A high-stakes moment in your staged relationship, where every little detail needed to be perfect.

The location was a sprawling Tuscan villa, perched on a hill with views of vineyards and cypress trees that seemed to go on forever. The air felt thick with romance, but it was the kind that pressed down on your chest, suffocating with expectation.

It all seemed glamorous at first—until the moment you checked in. The concierge, with her polite smile, handed Max a single keycard.

"Your suite is ready," she said, not even glancing at the reservation sheet. "Enjoy your stay."

You froze mid-reach for your suitcase, your eyes locking on the single keycard in Max’s hand. A knot formed in your stomach. “Excuse me,” you started slowly, a smile pulling tight on your lips. “We reserved two rooms.”

The receptionist’s smile didn’t falter as she glanced at the reservation. “I’m afraid you must be mistaken. We have a fully booked weekend, and we only received a request for one suite.”

Max frowned, his frustration starting to bubble. “We booked two rooms,” he repeated, voice low. “Check again.”

But the receptionist only shook her head, her expression unwavering. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing I can do. If another room becomes available, we’ll notify you immediately, but until then this is all we have.”

Max shot you an incredulous look. “Did you know about this?”

You exhaled sharply, grabbing the keycard from his hand. “Of course not,” you muttered. “Let’s just get to the room and deal with it there.”

The hotel room, when you finally entered, was undeniably luxurious—a grand space with marble floors, plush furnishings, and a balcony with sweeping views of the vineyard. But none of that mattered when you saw the bed.

One king-sized bed sat in the centre of the room, its pristine white linens almost taunting you.

“No way,” Max said flatly, his gaze locked on the bed as though willing it to disappear. “This isn’t happening.”

“Like I’m thrilled about it either,” you shot back, dropping your bag onto the bench at the foot of the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll just complain about it all night, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Well, I’m not sharing the bed,” you snapped, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

And then came the phone call.

Both of your managers had been on the line, in sync as usual, their voices cutting through the tension like a knife. “You two need to make this work, the whole point of this trip is to sell the relationship. People are going to notice if you're seen going into separate rooms. It’ll look suspicious.”

Max’s jaw tightened as he glanced at you, the silent fury in his eyes mirroring yours. “This is getting ridiculous,” he bit out.

“There’s no choice,” they replied their tone unwavering. “We’ve made arrangements. You’re both staying in that suite, and you’re going to make it work. Don’t disappoint us.”

The line went dead.

You stood there, staring at Max, who was now pacing the length of the room. “This is insane,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “They can’t just—”

“They can,” you interjected, “and they just did.”

“Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Let’s make the best of it then.”

After another few minutes of heated back and forth, you came to an agreement—if you had to share the bed, then there would at least be a line of pillows down the middle, creating a barrier between you. It felt childish, but neither of you were willing to back down.

That night, as the hours dragged on, the tension between you both was palpable. You lay on your side of the bed stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling while Max, for the hundredth time, scrolled through his phone. The silence was deafening, with only the distant sounds of laughter and music from the reception area reaching your ears.

“You could at least pretend to care about this,” you muttered into the silence.

Max didn’t even look up from his phone. “About what?”

“This,” you shot back, turning toward him slightly. “Us. The stupid story we’re selling.”

He set his phone down with a sigh, finally turning his head toward you. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because it’s my job Max,” you said. “My reputation is on the line.”

Max’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at you. “And you think mine isn’t?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “You think I enjoy pretending to be in love with someone who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else…who looks like they hate me?”

His words hit harder than you expected, leaving a sting in their wake.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, your voice quieter now.

Max’s eyes softened. “Yeah, well…I don’t hate you either.”

The room was silent again, but it was different now. The distance between you, both literal and figurative, seemed to lessen just slightly. You tried to force yourself to fall asleep, but the tension that lingered was almost too much to bear.

The night dragged on, and in the midst of it you felt the shift, the moment when everything blurred.

Somehow, in the quiet hours of the night, you found yourself moving closer, instinctively curling up for warmth or comfort, you couldn’t tell which. And before you could stop it, your bodies had aligned. Max’s arm had found its way around your waist, and your face was pressed against his chest.

You woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets, Max’s arm still around you, your bodies a tangle of limbs. The pillows had been kicked aside sometime during the night, leaving the line between you completely obliterated. You couldn’t even remember when it had happened only that you’d woken up wrapped in him, as though it had always been that way.

The reality of it hit you both at the same time, and neither of you moved immediately. His breath was warm against the back of your neck as he shifted.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough from sleep.

“Guess we’re really selling the story now, huh?” you said.

Max smiled, a real one this time. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Guess we are.”

And in that moment, the lines between what was real and what wasn’t felt even less clear than before.

The wedding weekend was a whirlwind—a carefully curated mix of elegant affairs, lavish dinners, and champagne toasts in the sun. But amidst the clinking of glasses and the sweeping romance in the air, something inside you shifted. It was subtle at first, but by the end of the weekend, you couldn’t deny that things were different.

The welcome dinner was filled with polite smiles and laughter. You both posed for photos together, Max’s arm draped around your waist in the way that had become second nature by now. He leaned down slightly to speak to you during one of the speeches, his breath warm against your ear as he muttered, “This is getting old huh?”

You smirked, glancing up at him, but before you spoke you found yourself lingering in the moment, the proximity between you suddenly feeling a little more… comfortable.

That night, as you both retired to your suite, the pull between you lingered. There was no escaping it now, the facade you had been building for months was being tested in real-time. Neither of you said much as you prepared for bed, the weight of the situation settling over you like a heavy blanket.

The next morning, after another night spent wrapped up together in the same bed, you both sat down to a quiet breakfast in the villa’s courtyard. The wedding hadn’t yet begun, but the grounds were already bustling with preparations. Max sat across from you, the sound of clinking silverware filling the spaces between your words. You were sipping your coffee, but you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes flickered over to you.

He finally broke the silence, his voice easy. “You know, you’ve been full of surprises this weekend.”

Your heart skipped, but you didn’t let it show. You crossed your arms, trying to hide the warmth flooding your chest. “Oh? So, you admit you were wrong about me?”

His lips curved into a slow, teasing grin. “Maybe I was,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But you’re still impossible to figure out.”

You swallowed, your pulse quickening. “Or maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

Later, as the wedding ceremony started, you both took your seats near the back. Max leaned in during one particularly touching speech about eternal love. "Do you really believe that this whole thing might be real for some people?" he asked.

You blinked, turning your gaze to him. "I don't know," you said slowly. "Maybe it is. Maybe they just know something we don't,” you laughed lightly.

He didn’t respond right away, but you could see the way his expression shifted. There was a vulnerability in his eyes now. "Maybe," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself spending more time together. You were seated next to him at dinner, and instead of the usual small talk, there was an ease between you that hadn’t been there before. The jokes that used to feel forced now felt more natural, even the sarcastic quips between you that used to ignite sparks of irritation now carried a different kind of energy. You started to laugh more easily, and Max’s rare smiles seemed less manufactured.

The night of the wedding was in full swing, the dance floor was crowded, you had been standing at the edge of the crowd, holding a glass of champagne and talking to a few other guests when you noticed Max. Without thinking, you found yourself walking toward the dance floor. You were halfway there when Max appeared beside you, his presence immediate, almost magnetic.

“Fancy a dance?” he asked, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow, catching the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, for the cameras, right?”

Max’s smile didn’t falter. “Whatever you say schatje.”

Max placed one hand on your waist, his other hand holding yours delicately. You couldn’t remember the last time you had danced with someone this close.

His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in slightly. “You know, you’re not bad at this whole ‘fake dating thing”.

“Maybe you’re just getting used to me,” you said, lifting your chin a little.

Max’s hand tightened around yours ever so slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was about to say something else, but he didn’t.

The music seemed too slow, the moment stretching out, and you found yourself closer to him than you’d ever been, the space between you practically nonexistent your bodies pressed together your head resting on his chest. Max’s thumb brushed over your hand, sending a small shiver up your spine. You could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, the warmth of his body making your own heart race.

“Are you sure this is just for the cameras?” Max murmured, his voice barely a whisper, the question hanging in the air between you.

You swallowed, your breath caught in your throat. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words stuck in your mouth. Instead, you simply nodded, though you knew it wasn’t true anymore. The way he held you, the way his gaze never left yours, was real. All the lines you’d drawn between fake and genuine were starting to melt away, and it terrified you.

The song ended, and the spell was broken, but neither of you moved away immediately. You were still pressed up against each other, a heartbeat away from something more. Max pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say something, anything.

But instead of words, you gave him a soft, almost imperceptible smile. “Well, that wasn’t terrible,” you said, trying to deflect the swirling emotions that had settled deep within you.

The night wore on, and as you walked back to your room, the glow of the villa’s lights cast long shadows, and you could hear the soft murmur of other guests laughing and talking in the distance.

When you entered the room, the silence between you felt different. You both stopped at the foot of the bed, the stillness hanging in the air.

Max hesitated for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time. “You know... I don’t think I mind this, us... being like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you met his gaze. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I don’t mind it either,” you finally admitted.

The weekend had changed something fundamental between you. By the time you left for Monaco, the lines between what was fake and what was real had blurred beyond recognition. What had started as a contract had slowly, imperceptibly, become something more. And neither of you was ready to admit it—not yet.

As time went by Max started showing up at your place unannounced, claiming he needed an escape from his hectic schedule. At first, it was just an excuse. He’d show up, settle onto your couch, and spend hours scrolling through his phone, not really talking much, but not leaving either. But over time, it became a routine that neither of you could shake off. He’d arrive late in the evenings, wearing that same devil-may-care attitude he always had, his visits felt more natural every time, less like something forced and more like an excuse to simply be with you.

It started innocently enough, he’d show up, flopping down on your couch, kicking off his shoes, and throwing a lazy “what’s shall we have for dinner?” in your direction. You’d find yourselves cooking together, Max teasing you for your lack of cooking skills, and you firing back with sarcastic remarks that now always seemed to make him laugh.

“Don’t worry, Max,” you’d say, stirring whatever you were attempting to make. “I’ll make sure this one doesn’t burn. Unlike your last attempt at.”

Max would chuckle, shaking his head. “You make it sound like it was a disaster. It was edible…”

“Sure it was,” you’d retort, flicking a bit of sauce at him.

What had once been confined to discussions about the weather or small talk about the PR deal shifted into much deeper, more intimate exchanges. You’d find yourself talking about everything from the silliest of topics like your least favourite childhood snacks, to sharing your thoughts on the future. It was strange, how these quiet moments, spent lounging on the couch or taking walks around the city became some of the most genuine conversations you’d ever had.

Watching movies together late into the night became a staple of your routine. You’d snuggle up on the couch, popcorn between you, arguing over the best movie. You’d watch one of his choices, only for him to grumble about how you’d fallen asleep halfway through, your head resting against his shoulder. You never intended to sleep, but his warmth, his presence, had a way of pulling you under.

One evening, you’d found yourselves cuddling on the couch, his arm draped over you as you played a ridiculous trivia game on your phone, his hand brushing through your hair absentmindedly as he caught his breath.

“Okay, I think you’re cheating,” Max teased, shaking his head as you got the answer right for the third time in a row. “There’s no way you knew that.”

“I’m just that good,” you grinned, leaning in closer, pretending to be smug.

Max rolled his eyes, his fingers lightly grazing your arm as you leaned into his side. It wasn’t intentional at first, but neither of you seemed to care. The tension that had once existed—whether because of the contract, the PR, or just the fact that you had no idea how to truly deal with each other—had slowly dissipated. You no longer needed to try to make each other laugh or even pretend to be interested in what the other person was doing. You genuinely enjoyed it.

And then, there was the first time you realised how much you’d changed. You woke up one morning at his apartment, still tangled in blankets on the sofa with Max, your head resting on his chest, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this content. His hand was resting lightly on your back, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your skin, and you knew, without a doubt, that what you had with him wasn’t just some act anymore.

When he stirred, blinking his eyes open and catching sight of you, a smile tugged at his lips. “You’re still here,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smirked. “You mean you didn’t kick me out yet?”

Max chuckled, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Not a chance,” he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. It wasn’t one of those quick kisses that had always been a part of your facade. This one lingered, slow and warm, like he wanted to savour it.

That was when you realised it: You’d both slipped into something real. The PR contract was technically due to end soon, but neither of you had needed to bring it up, because you had long stopped pretending. There were no more walls between you. No more games. Just you, and him, and the quiet certainty that this was no longer about anyone but the two of you.

One evening your buzzer rang unexpectedly. You weren't expecting anyone, so you frowned as you walked over to the peephole. You blinked when you saw Max standing outside, holding a small bouquet of your favourite flowers, the kind you’d mentioned in passing months ago. His hair was slightly messy from the wind, and his expression was somewhere between nervous and sheepish. You could practically see the hesitation in his stance, as if unsure whether to knock.

Curious and slightly caught off guard, you opened the door. He stood there for a beat, offering the flowers with that tentative half-smile of his. The sight of it made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“For the record,” Max started, his voice light. “I’m not doing this for PR anymore.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. You had both danced around the truth for so long, but now, standing on the other side of your door, it was clear that what was between you two had always been real.

You stared at him for a beat. “In case you haven’t noticed,” you said with a playful smirk, “I’m not doing this for PR anymore either.”

Max’s grin widened just slightly at your response, and a soft chuckle escaped him. “Good to know,” he replied. “Because I don’t think I’m ready to stop this just yet.”

With that you stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. Max placed the bouquet on the nearest table, but before either of you could say anything more, he wrapped his arms around you. The kiss he pressed to your lips was hungry and deliberate, different from the ones you had shared before.

You felt the shift inside you too, a deep sense of rightness that settled in your chest. This wasn’t for the cameras or for the PR agents anymore. This was you and him, standing in your apartment, sharing a kiss.

Max pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His lips brushed yours again, then he stepped back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I have an idea,” he said.

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Oh? And what’s that?”

He hesitated for a beat, then grinned—crooked and genuine. “How about a real date? No cameras, no PR team, just you and me.”

You pretended to consider it, biting your lip as if deep in thought, laughing softly you nodded. “Okay Verstappen. A real date.”

Max’s smile widened as he pulled you in for another kiss, one that felt like both a promise and a declaration…and it was real.

[laneywrld]

things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton

part two

word count: 10k

warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.

A man not made for commitment also doesn’t know how to communicate

It's safe to say that since that night in Cannes nearly two months ago, the lines have blurred.

Every night Clem spends with Lewis ends with her falling asleep nestled in his arms.

Some nights, they don't even have sex; he just calls her up to see him. 

Their outings are no longer limited to his bedroom or whatever hotel he's shacked up in. They're often found all over tabloids and fan pages, seen out at clubs or dinners or even on simple excursions such as shopping or taking walks.

Clementine tries her hardest to remember that Lewis was noncommittal. He would never ever even think about dating her or taking her seriously. That realization and his vocally telling her to not make things weird every time he can see that he catches her off guard keeps her on track. 

Clem knew what she signed up for; quite literally, the NDA she signed entailed every component of their relationship.

Besides the weird butterflies she got around Lewis, life was only getting better and better.  

Being around someone who understands her fully and allows her to completely unravel herself to them has really been good for Clem socially and career-wise.

She was less awakward around people, less reserved and she felt like hey, this man has accepted me for my every little flaw, why wouldn't other people. 

She was moving up in the world, and people loved her for who she was, and for the first time ever, she did too.

She's won an emmy for her netflix show, her movie was breaking records, and she was finally stepping out of her box and showcasing other skills she had.

Along with this new burst of confidence came new relationships. 

She's been trying to go out on dates to see if now was finally the time for her to try to settle down and find something serious.

That what she was doing currently, at dinner sitting across from some NBA players as he rambles on and on about different shots he couldve taken during the game, that he most definitely lost.

Clem hums, eyes feigning interest as he describes how he actually wasn't open when he tried to go for a three-pointer. Shocker, he missed.

When he excuses himself to run to the bathroom, she whips out her phone, seeing that Lewis texted her. 

Lewis 🏁

How's your date?

She shakes her head, typing out her response.

dense. how's silverstone? 

Lewis 🏁

Nerve-wracking, my car is still shit.

i'm sorry 😞  

Lewis 🏁

I'm going to need you tonight.

Lewis, i'm on a date.

Clem scoffs, but the smile on her face as she presses send is misleading.

Lewis 🏁

Is he getting lucky tonight?

NO!

Lewis 🏁

So why can't I?

Clem feels the familiar tingle in her core and places her phone face down on the table just as her date takes his seat in front of her again. 

She can't help the incredulous eyebrow raise she gives him as she sees a powdery substance painting his nostril.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, love." She smiles politely as she stands and motions for him to wipe his nose. He lifts his camera just as Clem drops enough money to cover her bill and tip the waitress generously. 

She hops into the black SUV, thanking her driver for helping her into the back. She unlocks her phone and sees another message from Lewis.

Lewis 🏁

My jet will be waiting for you.

That is precisely how Clementine ended up in Lewis' hotel room, waiting for him on the bed as he took a quick shower. 

When he emerges from the bathroom she can only offer him an uplifting smile, he looks so tired and so stressed. 

It helps, it always does which is why Lewis wanted her here in the first place. She was like sunrise after the darkest of nights.

"Hi," she coos, opening her arms for the muscly man.

He falls into her arms, his torso bare and his bottom half swaddled in a towel. He lays his head in her lap as she sits against the headboard. He looks up at her face as she stares down at his, and she physically pouts as she brings her fingers up to massage the stress lines from his face.

"That bad?" she whispers as his eyes flutter closed. Lewis sighs, grumbling out a faint "Yeah."

"You don't have to go through it much longer, at least." She tries and she knows it does nothing to take the heavy weight of mercedes off of his shoulders.

"You feel like you're carrying the weight of the world." She hums, her hands traveling down to rub the tension out of his neck. Her fist rubs up and down from the sides of his neck to the crook of his shoulders.

Lewis lets out a relaxed sigh, letting her work on him. 

She doesn't know how long she sits there with him snuggled into her lap as she kneads the tension from his body. 

After a while, she connects to his speaker and plays music. She has Lewis turn over onto his stomach as she slips from underneath him.

She hums as she sits on his bottom and begins massaging his back. "Your back is bruised."

"I was bouncing around like crazy in that fucking car." He curses.

Clementine bends down, pressing kisses around his back on the purple and red marks adorning his skin. 

Lewis closes his eyes, relishing in the comfort she gives him.

Lewis has noticed it, too, the turn their dynamic has taken. He is aware that he has given slight leeway to the emotional part of their relationship. 

He finds himself thinking about Clem plenty throughout the days. Buys things he thinks she'll like. He's grown accustomed to placing delicate pecks on her lips and face randomly throughout their time together; he can't help it.

Something about her has him wanting her all of the time, not even in th physical way. He just wants her to be with him.

"Can you come out to the race tomorrow?" He rasps.

She sits up, her legs still encaging his body. "Hmm, I don't think your publicity team will like that, people are already speculating about us."

"I don't care." Lewis argues, "It's about time you come to a race, wanna see you immediately not wait to get to the hotel and then see you."

His words make her heart thump harsher, and suddenly, all of the warnings from her publicist dissipate.

"Okay." 

Lewis didn't initiate sex between them that night. He simply turns over with her still on top of him and places his hands on her thighs.

"Come here," he whispers, reaching up to tug her head down to his face.

Their lips lock and it's not rushed or leading to anything. It's like how he kissed her in France. It's just sweet?

She can feel his heart against her chest as she is pressed against him, beating rampantly. "Thank you for showing up for me." He mutters against her lips. She grins against him as she remembers the words she scribbled onto the note she'd given him with her gift.

"Always." she breathes, diving back in to kiss him. One hand travels to her waist, and the other has a soft grip on the back of her neck. 

She feels his member poke against her thigh, and she sits up as much as she can with his hand on her neck, ready to free him from the towel, but the hand he had on her waist stops her actions with a grip on her wrist.

"I just want to lay with you tonight, if that's okay?"

Just when she thought she was safe from her tom-foolish thoughts, she felt her suppressed feelings for Lewis take light again. Don't make it weird, she thinks to herself. "Okay." 

Lewis sits up, his hand returning to her hip; she is sat in his lap, legs folded, and his body pushes her slightly back as he tugs on the comforter. He falls back taking her with him and pulls the thick comforter over her body which lays against his chest.

"What's one thing that surprised you about me?"

Clem traces her fingers on his chest in deep thought, "that you don't do relationships."

"Why that?"

"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."

Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."

Lewis presses a kiss to her hairline, butterflies doing summersaults in his belly. 

-

They wake up the next morning in the same position, with Clem's face nestled in the crook of his neck. Lewis smiles as he reaches over to turn off his alarm.

"Gotta get up, Clem." He soothes, rubbing up and down her back. 

"Mhmm." She moans in denial, cuddling deeper into him. "No."

"Come on, beautiful."

He sits up, forcing her up with him.

She flutters her eyes open and wraps her arms around his neck. 

He chuckles at her defiance, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He taps her thigh and she gets the message, wrapping them around his waist.

He walks her into the bathroom and sits her down on the bathroom counter. "Sit here, be careful." He orders, unraveling her from his body. He almost gives up and tucks her back into bed as she whines at him.

He leaves the bathroom and returns with a small bag of hers. She slumps against the mirror as she hears him rustling about. When she hears the faucet turn on and then feels his big hands massage circles into her cheeks, she opens her eyes.

There, she sees Lewis standing there with a cheeky smile, his hands lathered in her face soap as he massages the suds onto her face.

"Going to have to get my girl ready myself, huh?" He questions.

She only smirks at him and closes her eyes, letting him work through her skincare routine step by step, laughing as he inquires about every product.

When he finishes, he washes his own face and then passes her toothbrush to her. He stands between her legs as they both brush their teeth. Both of them stare at each other with googly eyes, laughing as foam bubbles from their mouths. When she leans over to spit into the sink, he follows shortly after and then pours a capful of mouthwash for her and them himself. And again, they stare into each other's eyes, giggly and gleaming, as they swish the liquid between their puffy cheeks.

This is where Clementine struggled with the status of their agreement. These weren't the actions of a man who didn't intend to be in a relationship. But she had heard of Lewis and his many flings and "friends" and she knew that he was a very affectionate person so once again she willed away the thought that there was any chnace of Lewis ever straying away from his bachelor lifestyle. 

She pats his shoulder beckoning him to step away, when he does she hops down and releases the last of the contents from her mouth into the sink and stepping aside so Lewis can do the same. 

"I'm going to grab my clothes." She informs.

As she lays her outfit options across the bed, she hears a vibration beneath her shirt, and she leans over the bed, patting until she finds the culprit. When she feels the device, she pulls it from underneath and sees that it's not her phone but Lewis'.

The screen lights up with notifications. 

One catches her eye from, Natalie.

Lewis did feel comfortable enough to disclose his other flings to her, and she nearly shit herself when he associated them all with cities. She remembers the way he laughed when she asked if she needed to get tested. Then she asked if he had referred to her as Clementine, NYC.

Natalie, Silverstone. She recalls.

It wasn't like she was intentionally snooping, but as the screen lit up in her hand again, she couldn't help but read the message as it appeared.

Still on for tomorrow?

At first, she feels a pang in her chest, but then she remembers her place, and she gently sits his phone on the nightstand, allowing the screen to turn off.

"Hey, you okay?" Lewis questioned, poking his head from the bathroom, realizing that she had stopped responding to him. 

She is stood facing the bed with her hands on her hips, scanning her oufits. "Yeah," she smiles though it doesn't quite meet her eyes. 

He eyes her quizically, but when she chuckles at his facial expression, pulls her outfit from the bed, and saunters into the bathroom with him, he relaxes.

Clem is in her head, and she hopes it's not obvious to Lewis.

But she can't help but wonder why he would fly her out just to make plans to sleep with another woman in the span of two days.

She's hurt, and she's jealous, and she knows she shouldn't be, but a part of her wants to slap the shit out of him. 

Instead, she refrains and plays into whatever sick bullshit he was playing with her heart unintentionally.

-

She arrives to the paddock with Lewis and she tries not to grimace as he tells a journalist that he brings friends with him to races all of the time, as they pass by.

He opens the door to the Mercedes motorhome like the proper gentleman he is and directs her into his room.

"I'm just going to change into my suit, and then we can head to the garage, okay?"

She nods and pulls out her phone. Already, she sees that they are trending. 

Lewis steps out of the room and leaves the door open. A few minutes pass before she hears an audible gasp.

When she looks up, she sees a bright-eyed George Russell.

"Hello, Hi! I'm George, I'm a big fan." He enters the compact room, his hand outstretched before him. She stands from Lewis' bed and accepts his hand.

"Hi, George, I'm Clem."

"I know who you are. What are you doing here?" He wonders.

"I'm a friend of Lewis'. I wanted to see you guys race today."

George stutters out a wow, beginning to ramble on before he is interrupted by a throat clearing at the door. There stands Lewis, with a burning look on his face that makes George immediately drop her hand.

"Lewis." He gasps, "How do you literally know everyone, man?"

She smiles, raising her eyebrows behind Lewis as George rambles about her.

Lewis claps his hands against George's shoulder before speaking, "I love you, kid. But we've got to get going."

And then he reached his arm around George and latched onto Clem and pulled her from behind him.

George stammers out a quick bye, and Clem waves sweetly at him as Lewis pulls her from the motorhome and towards the garage.

"He's so sweet," Clem coos, and Lewis only grunts out a "yeah."

"He looks like a literal prince charming." She extends.

Lewis doesn't want to hear her call his teammate any more kinds of cute, so he opts not to respond.

When they finally reach the garage, he is sitting her down beside Toto, who introduces himself with a warm and welcoming smile.

She accepts his hand, gently shaking it, and in return, Lewis gets whisked away.

She enjoys her time in the garage, whilst Lewis talk to his strategist she is sat beside Toto and a few engineers and she feels like she is on a field trip as they explain the many different parts of their setup. Finally Lewis appears at her side again, beckoning her to follow him. She accepts his hand, lifting from her seat and walking hand in hand with him to his car.

"Wow." she gasps as she studies the racing car.

"You want to get in?" Lewis questions. She turns to him with wide eyes, and Lewis can see the excitement in her dark orbs.

"You don't like people in your car." She reminds, peering back down at it.

"I said I don't let just anyone in my car, are you just anyone?" He is staring at her so intensely it has her body on fire.

She felt shy underneath his gaze as he stepped closer to her.

She stands tall, looking up at him through her lashes. He's nearly bumping chests with her as he looms over her.

"There's an entire team in here, Lewis, and cameras." She whispers only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

He doesn't care. He leans down, his mouth near her ear, "Are you just anyone to me, Clementine?"

She swallows nervously as he takes a step back, "No."

"Then get in the fucking car."

Toto watches on from his seat in amazement as Lewis lifts her frame into the car. He then turns and looks into the camera with his eyebrows raised as to show his impressment. 

He put two and two together that she was a personal guest for Lewis. It was obvious since Mercedes had already planned for Tom Cruise and Damson Idris' arrival for the race today.

Lewis leans into the car as he motions to different parts on the inside of the automobile. 

Clem honestly couldn't give two fucks about the car, but she was relishing in how passionate Lewis looked and sounded as he spoke about every aspect of it. She hadn't moved her eyes from his face not once, and Lewis froze as he turned to face her and saw the wanting look adorning her features.

It has him hard instantly.

"Behave." He warns, turning his head to survey their surroundings.

"You're fine as fuck when you're talking cars."

Lewis chuckles, and a blush comes up to cover his cheeks. He lifts his hand, his knuckles skimming along her jaw.

"I want to kiss you, but people will see."

She drops her face against his hand, puckering her bottom lip out at him.

"Aw, too bad." She whispers seductively, and Lewis whispers out a quiet "fuck." as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. His thumb reaches up and drags it back out.

"Gotta be nice to me right now, Clem. Hmm?" He hums, not bothering to remove his thumb from her lip. He smears his finger across, watching as it pops back into place. 

"Help me out of this car." She smirks, lifting her arms, "Before you do something you'll regret, there are cameras around."

"I don't give a fuck about the cameras." He rasps and breaks out into a grin when she bursts into a fit of laughter. He smacks his teeth, standing up straight, preparing to get her out.

"You like fucking with me." He declares.

Lewis helps her from the car, his hands probably lingering on her lower back for far too long once she's back on the ground.

"Lewis." He hears, and when he turns around, he sees Tom and Damson.

He pulls Clem with him, introducing her to the pair. He instantly regrets it when he sees the way Damson eyes her down like she's a refreshing tall glass of water.

 Tom starts up a conversation with Lew about the business they need to handle for his upcoming movie, but his eyes can't leave Clem's frame, and how Damson brings her hand up to his lips. 

He feels like a suicidal maniac when he watches her laugh and smile at whatever he is saying.

He'd met him before, and trust, whatever he was saying couldn't possibly be that funny.

Lewis wants to rip Toto's head off as he directs the two of them into a set of empty seats. He was less than present during the conversation with Tom, and he hoped he hadn't noticed. His arms are folded over his chest, and his foot is tapping the ground anxiously. He tries not to make it obvious when he directs Tom to his spot and takes his in order to keep an eye on Clem.

When the time for the start of the race gets closer he is thankful to see Tom take his place beside Toto. 

He saunters over to the still chatty pair and stands in front of Clem. He waits for her to notice him, and when she doesn't, he clears his throat rather dramatically. 

She stands when she notices him, shooting Damson an apologetic smile that has him ready to drag her off. Which he does.

He pulls her to a corner of the garage and up the stairs into a random office and locks the door. 

"You okay." Clem questions, stepping towards him and placing her hands on his waist. "Lewis." she tries again when he doesn't answer.

He looks stressed and zoned out.

"I- uh yeah." he coughs and suddenly he feels better having her away from Damson. "i'm fine, pre-race jitters." He lies.

Her hands slide up his chest until they settle on the sides of his head.

She tilts his head so that he's staring into her eyes. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"I'm regretting this." He admits and her eyes squint, "bringing you here, I mean."

That does nothing to alleviate her hurt expression, so he continues, "My car is still shit, I don't want you to watch me lose."

She scoffs, gently slapping her hand against his shoulder before returning it to its place caressing his beard. "Would’ve watched you lose at home too, what's the difference. I'm going to support you all the same."

Lewis leans down and presses a short, soft kiss to her plump lips.

Her eyes flutter closed as he stares down at her, and finally, his hands raised to her hips, pulling her into him. "I don't think that I tell you thank you enough for all of the ways you help me, Clem."

"You don't have to," she whispers, dropping her forehead against his chest. He rests his chin on top of her head, putting his arms over her shoulders as hers wraps around his torso.

Lewis likes this. He thinks he can start every race for the rest of his career like this. When he hears a knock on the door, he groans but shoots Clem a warning look as she chuckles at him.

"Big baby." she teases, moving around him to unlock the door. He maneuvers behind her, reaching to open it, and when he does, he sees Toto there with a knowing smirk.

"Time to race, Lewis."

She allows Lewis to pull her from the office hand in hand, and she knows her publicist is probably in New York and stressed running through cigarettes. She always joked that this Lewis rendezvous would result in her smoking her stress away.

Lewis knows something is wrong with him for sure when he realizes that he doesn't care about the camera or who's watching him show Clem his affection. He knows they're going to be the main topic of every tabloid tomorrow, and he just doesn't care.

She stands in front of him beside his car as the crew bustles around them.

When it's time for Lewis to finish his preparation, he motions his head towards Clem, and suddenly, her hands are stuffed with a balaclava and a pair of gloves. 

She turns to the man who handed them to her and he offers her a small smile. 

She turns to Lewis, and he can tell she's trying to fight off the grin that desperately wants to appear.

She reaches for his right hand, tugging the glove onto his hand gently, she checks each finger and pulls to make sure the fit is snug. She repeats her actions on his left hand and then Lewis firmly places his hands on her waist. He's looking at her with those sparkly eyes and a loving smile.

She turns the balaclava in her hands, trying to figure out which way to pull it over his head. When she sees the opening, she lets out an "Aahh" that has Lewis chuckling at her.

She stands on her tiptoes, freeing his braids from the ponytail and pushing them back. She hums to herself as she pulls the balaclava over his head. 

She settles back on her feet, and she can only see his eyes, but it does something to her. 

She reaches between them pulling the upper half of his suit up his body, giggling when he grunts realizing he's got to let go of her to push his arms through the sleeves.

His hands are back on her in an instant, like by not physically touching her he'd fly away.

Clem reaches between them again; this time, her fingers latch onto the zipper, and she tugs it up from his pelvis all the way up his chest until it's set in place. 

"I don't know, Lew. I think we've at least got a podium." She whispers, accepting the helmet.

She steps back, allowing his hands to fall, and then hands him the helmet.

"I can feel it in my bones." 

"Oh," Lewis laughs, "Can feel it in your bones?" He sticks out his free hand, tickling at her.

Clementine laughs, stepping back and gripping his arm, "Stop!" 

He listens, pulling on his helmet and looking back at his car.

"Well, that's me."

Clem feels like a lovesick puppy as she watches his eyelashes flutter with every blink of his eyes.

"Podium." She reminds him, lifting her pinky.

"Podium." He declares, wrapping his own against hers. He lifts their conjoined hands and places them against his helmet where his mouth would be, and she swoons.

"Get in the car, Hamilton."

She's a giddy mess as she steps away from him and finds herself accepting a seat from one of the crew members.

She sighed while watching the screen as Lewis started in P5. He is quickly into P4. She feels her adrenaline kick in as the crew cheers excitedly watching him overtake into third. When he overtakes two other drives all in the same lap the garage erupts in shouts of excitement, just for that to be taken away just as fast when they see a car barrel through off od the track and into the fence.

Clem gasps, her hand coming up to cup her mouth.

She knew Formula One was a dangerous sport, but watching a wreck like that happen in real-time has her mind reeling on just how much danger Lewis puts himself in.

"Is he okay?" She hears as the crew all talk amongst themselves.

"George is out of the race. The other driver is okay." Toto announces, "We're restarting."

Lewis is back in the garage, and he is irritated.

Clem stays back and out of his way as she watches him angrily rant. "That is not right, Toto." He snaps, "back in fifth?"

She watches as Toto nods at him, and Lewis turns to his assistant, rolling his eyes. He looks so frustrated as he throws his hand out, "fucking fifth."

Clem knew that when she was angry that she didn't like to be bothered, so she stayed in her seat. She feels a body plop down beside her, and she turns to see Damson.

"Intense, yeah?" He questions.

"Most definitely." She sighs, "My adrenaline is off the charts right now."

"First time coming to a race?"

She nods, returning the question, "Nah, this is like the NFL to Brits."

She laughs, "Right."

The two chat whilst the rest of the garage is in shambles, and Lewis watches the two with slits in his eyes. 

He knows he shouldn't be jealous. Clem was nothing to him but a friend who he enjoys fucking. It's what he tells himself as Damson passes his phone to her. She was just his friend. He'd even encouraged her to get out there and find her person.

But that was before he realized how differently she made his heartbeat.

Lewis doesn't bother going over to her before the race restarts, he can feel her lingering eyes as he manuevers around the garage, avoiding her.

Lewis feels a bit enraged. Initially, it was just the FIA and their stupid fucking rules, then it was the car, and now it was Clementine and the stupid British actor drooling over each other in his face.

It was all piling on top of him, and he hadn't felt so unsettled ever before a race. 

He hops back into his car, not sparing Clem a glance, and rolls out into P5.

This time the only thing on his mind is how fucking mad he is. 

That anger got him P3. 

He doesn't know why he doesn't approach Clem as she waits for him patiently in her seat. He goes around and thanks the crew and the engineers and has a brief talk with Toto and Tom. And then he leaves to go to the podium, all without even glancing at her.

Clem, always aware, remains silent and tries to keep the pout from taking place on her face.

She tries not to take Lewis' actions personal, it's obvious he's wound up. She doesn't know if it's something she did or if he's still frustrated by the race restart. Logically it's the second, she's learned that not everyone's behaviors have to do with her. It's taken years of her enternalizing other people's moods to realize that 9/10 people are just feeling things. She hasn't done anything, she's sure of it.

She is directed into the motorhome whilst Lewis handles other business and she sits in his room on his bed waiting patiently.

When Lewis had brought up the idea of bringing her to the race yesterday, he raved on and on about how she'd be able to walk the track, wait with his team whilst he's on the podium (if he got one), and get the classic guest experience. She hadn't gotten that, which was a letdown since she really wanted to experience Lewis' world, but she understood why that wasn't possible today after seeing Lewis' mood.

But still, it would have been nice not to sit in his motorhome and then the garage all day, just to end up back in his motorhome alone for hours. 

When Lewis emerges into the tiny room he is clean and dressed in comfortable clothes. He had been on the phone in the office preparing a few arrangements for the past hour. He sighs as he sees her frame sprawled across the tiny bed. 

There are soft puffs of air escaping her, and her phone is clutched loosely in her hand.

He can tell she fell asleep scrolling through her phone.

He sits on the foot of the bed at her feet and drops his head into his hands.

He doesn't know what he's doing. But he does know he can't keep going on like this. Lewis didn't like relationships, he didn't like being tied down, it wasn't fair of him to only want Clem to himself when she would never get all of him. 

"C'mon Clem, let's get you back."

Like the sleepy girl she is, she whines as Lewis pulls her body from the bed, placing her on her feet. 

"Can you walk?" 

She only nods, reaching over to grab her bag and her phone. She doesn't speak to Lewis quite yet, still unsure of his mood. She lets him direct her from the motorhome, his hand tight in hers as he leads her through the paddock. It is so late at night that there are rarely any people hanging around. When they exit and get to his car, the flashes from the cameras wake her up even more, and she uses the back of her hand to block the lights. 

Lewis walks her to the passenger side, waiting for her to slip in before he closes the door gently and goes around to his seat.

He pulls out cautiously and begins their trek to the hotel.

Clem forces herself to stay awake, knowing that it's only a short drive.

Still, she is waiting for Lewis to speak, but he doesn't. 

"I had fun," she announces.

"I'm glad."

"You got podium." She cheers lowly.

Lewis only offers her a small smile, and uncertainty settles in her gut. Something's not right.

She gives up trying to talk to him after that. 

The car is filled with tension and awkward silence. It's so unlike them.

When they pull into the hotel, Clem doesn't wait for the valet to open her door. She clambers out and thanks god as the night breeze fills her lungs. She's never felt so suffocated around Lewis.

As Lewis exchanges formalities with the man she rushes into the hotel and onto the elevator, when she reaches the room she unlocks it with the secondary key taking a moment to gulp down a glass of water.

Lewis follows in behind her shortly after, paying her no mind as he goes to the bathroom and emerges with his shirt and jewelry off.

"You got an attitude?" Lewis questions, standing in the doorframe.

"No, I don't." 

"I know you, Clementine." Lewis rasps, coming to stand over her as she sits on the bed.

"You're the one with the nasty ass attitude." She huffs, reaching up to nudge him away from her. He doesn't budge.

"Lose the attitude, Clem." He orders, and she rolls her eyes. 

"Or what, Lewis?" She pushes.

Lewis' hand is at her neck in a second. His grip is not tight at all, just holding her in place as he ravishes her mouth. Just as frustrated as he is, she returns the kiss.

"Got something for that attitude," Lewis grunts, pushing her onto her back.

She gasps as he roughly pulls at her pants.

He has them off before she knows it, and his hand lets go of her neck and travels down to pull at her panties. He rips them off of her with a hunger in his eyes like no other. 

"Gotta fuck it out of you, Clem?" He asks. 

He doesn't give her time to answer as he sinks down to his knees at the end of the bed and pulls her down with him. He lifts her legs over him and wraps his arms around her thighs. His hands settle on her thighs, keeping them apart, and he stares up at her one last time before connecting his mouth to her clit.

She jumps, but his hands hold her in place.

He removes his lips from her bundle of nerves, his tongue traveling down to swipe through her crease. She moans lightly as she fists at the sheets. His fingers travel up to replace his mouth, and he digs them deep into her core, his tongue flicking against her clit before he presses it flat and moves up and down.

Clem gasps as he curls his fingers inside her and suckles extra hard on her. Her hand shoots down to push him away, but he catches her wrist in his free hand, holding it against the mattress. 

He stares up at Clem, the whole scene naughty and erotic. He lets her other hand come down to rest in his hair. 

Lewis moans into her, his mouth sending a wave of vibrations through her body. Lewis never took his eyes off of her, watching as she writhed above him. He was showing her no mercy as the gushy sounds filled the room. 

She tasted so good.

Lewis worked his tongue around her clit, teasing her only for a minute before he smushed his mouth over it again and suckled just the right amount, his fingers still thrust in and out of her, driving her absolutely insane. He moans into her pussy and trails his mouth down to swallow where she is oozing. 

Lewis lets her captivating moans egg him on as he devours her like a starved man. He can feel it when she comes when her tight, spongy pussy constricts around his fingers. He happily licks up the juices she releases as she comes undone. 

He pulls his fingers from her core and stands, quickly turning her body over. She lands on her stomach with a slight "oomph" noise and turns to look back at Lewis.

He wastes no time hammering into her from behind. He grabs her arms pulling them behind her back and crossing her wrists; with one hand, he holds them against her back, and with the other, he swats at her ass. Groaning as he watches it ripple.

"Fuck."

Clem can do nothing but pant underneath him and let out pathetic mewls as his hand repeatedly strikes her ass. It hurts so good.

Lewis keeps pounding into her hard, his heart racing as he chases his own orgasm. He sees her phone light up beside him, and a message from Damson appears. 

When he sees this, he speeds up his thrusts, gliding his thick member in and out of her suffocating walls. 

She can only blubber out useless moans as he plummets in and out of her.

He lets go of her wrist, pulling her up onto all fours. 

"You get a thrill out of pissing me off?" He grunts, his hand going up to grip her hair.

"No!" she whines, gripping the covers.

"I think you do." 

His other hand is gripping her waist, pulling her back to him every time she falls forward.

"Nuh-unh." He orders from behind her, letting go of her hair and holding on to her waist tightly with both hands now.

"Don't run from it, baby. You wanted this, huh? This what you want?"

Clem rasps out a choked yes, her head falling at the intense pleasure running through her veins.

Lewis sounds like a beast behind her, all strangled up and growling out praises at her. 

He feels so possessive as his hand lifts and smacks at her ass again. "Fucking, mine." He growls, and Clem falls forward. He doesn't stop as her legs give in, and she drops to the bed again. He climbs behind her, still keeping his pace, and throws his head back as she quivers around him like a candle on fire. 

He can feel the heat building in his core, and it eggs him on as he places his hands on her ass, holding her in place.

Clementine spasms beneath him, never experiencing an orgasm like this before. Her heart feels like it's beating outside of her chest as her ears ring and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She can only curse over and over as she feels Lewis drag out of her and return again with much more force. 

This was the best sex she'd ever gotten in her life.

Her walls clenched around him, her breath hitching as he moved aimlessly in and out of her.

Lewis shuddered at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath at the sensation. She is face down, panting into the mattress as he pants above her.

She can't count how many times she has come undone underneath him, but as she feels another orgasm approaching, she can't help the way her thighs tremble underneath Lewis. 

Lewis is an incoherent, mumbling and moaning mess above her as he allows himself to succumb to her squeezing cunt, clamping over him. Lewis falls into the abyss, pleasure washing over both of them as he spills into her.

He pulls out with a hiss, shuddering at his sensitivity, and falls over beside Clementine, who rolls onto her back.

"Woah." she pants.

Lewis feels her phone vibrate and he watches as she scambled down the bed to get it, he feels green as he watches her smile at the screen.

Just as she moves to lie beside him again, he speaks up with words that make her feel dismayed.

"I booked you a room."

He turns away from her, staring at the ceiling.

"I- What?" She stutters, turning to face him.  

"It's just a floor below, suite 909."

Clem is distraught, and it shows on her face as she jumps away from the bed as if Lewis has burned her. "Lewis, what-"

Her words are cut off as her phone vibrates in her hand. Lewis chuckles dryly, finally tilting his head to face her. Suddenly Clem feels like a little girl again, wondering why her parents never made an effort in her life, wondering why it was so easy for them to push her aside like they didn't care that she existed.

"What's the matter? Are we okay?" She rambles.

Stop talking, Lewis. He thinks to himself as he watches Clem's eyes flash with wetness. Even sad, she has doe eyes, still shining, but this time, there are tears in her eyes and an intense sadness. 

"Yeah," he should’ve stopped there, but he kept going. "I'll probably see you tomorrow. If not, it'll be the next time I need you." He motions to the bed.

Clem frowns, letting out an exhale as she bends down to tug on her pants. As she maneuvers around the room collecting her suitcase, Lewis calls out to her. "I put the room key beside your toiletry bag."

She slips into the bathroom, picking up her small bag, and sure enough, the keycard is there. She grasps it in her hand and walks out. She wants to scream at him, tell him how big of a dick he's being, but she's not that kind of person.

She is graceful. But it's taking everything in her to channel the lessons her grandpa has taught her when she is this mad, this hurt. 

Clem avoids looking at Lewis as she latches onto her suitcase. 

 "Maybe you should start considering finding someone who's serious, Clementine."

Is this what this is about? She knew the blurred lines would come back to bite her in the ass eventually.

She freezes, her back turned to him as her hand pauses on the door handle. And her body shakes slightly as a her frown deepens, she feels a stream of tears flow down her cheeks.

And just when Lewis thinks that Clem is going to turn around and argue with him, probably throw something at him and shout at him, she doesn't.

She lifts one hand, swiping at her face, and then softly opens the door and leaves without so much as looking back at him. The door clicks shut behind her, and she walks on down the hallway towards the elevator. 

The words don't react, echoing over and over in her head, but as she hears the wheel rolling on her suitcase, she can't help but feel the trembling in her body. She presses her lips together, stepping onto the elevator, and as the doors close, she lets out a gutwrenching sob. 

She sniffles as she steps into the suite. Rushing to the bathroom to shed her clothes, she showers wiping all traces of Lewis Hamilton from her body the way she wishes she can erase him from her mind. She scrubs harshly, eyes still full with tears, between the scorchingly hot water, steam and the tears she can barely see anything as she scrubs severely.

For the first time since agreeing to this arrangement, she feels used by Lewis. She's never felt so dirty in her life. As she sank down to her knees, feeling the wails rip through her body with force, she realized why exactly his words and actions hurt her so much. 

It didn't matter how much she showed up for him or how much she allows herself to be his shrink and him hers, it'd always be a bad religion, loving someone who'd never love you back.

Lewis is in the same position he has been in since she left, flat on his back with his hands covering his face. His body is quivering as sobs rack through his body.

It was a tough decision, but it was one that had to be made. He could never give Clem what she deserved; he wasn't a committed person. Seven years on and off with the same person is proof of that. He could never be okay with putting her through that.

-

Lewis wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache and lingering loneliness. 

He always felt like this when he woke up without Clem in his arms. As he sits up and swipes his hands over his face, his heart aches when he notices her ripped panties thrown on the floor.

He regrets his actions. 

He wishes he would've sat her down nicely and explained how things were getting too deep for him. It's Clem, she would've understood. 

He realizes just how bad he fucked up when her giddiness to lay beside him last night flickers through his mind like a clip from a movie.

"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk?"

He feels like he's been shot when her hurt face replays over and over. He treated her like shit last night, all because he was scared of what she made him feel. 

He was a mess during yesterday's race; all he could think about down every straight and around every curve was how much he liked Clem, how good she made him feel, and bad she could make him feel just as easily.

He realized that the woman had too much control over his heart yesterday, and he couldn't take that. This was supposed to be fun, casual fun. He never inteded to catch feeling for Clementine Russell, but she was the kind of girl who made you drop to her feet.

He never stood a chance against her charm.

He scrambled from the king-sized bed, rushing to his phone.

-

When he hears a knock on his door, he opens it in a rush; he sees the butler there and offers him a finger to signal to hold on. He rushes to his table, picking up the bouquet of flowers, an array of red, yellow, and orange orchids, dahlias, and marigolds. 

"Can you take these down to suite 909?" Lewis pants pushing the boquet towards the man, there is a note nestled between the pedals.

The man tilts his head, pushing the flowers back towards Lewis.

"I am sorry, Sir Hamilton, Ms Russell has checked out already in the early hours of Midnight."

Lewis feels his heart crumble as he steps away from the man, the giant bouquet firm in his hold.

Lewis says nothing as he closes the door and walks away. 

-

Clem had left that night, not long after leaving Lewis' room. After her shower, she was on the first flight home, and she hadn't spoken to Lewis since. 

Lewis misses Clementine. It's a realization that he came to rather quickly but refused to admit.

Lewis pulls himself out of the leggy woman he picked up at the end of his race. She drops down beside him in heavy pants. 

"That was fun." She exhales.

He doesn't know why when he turns his head, he expects to see Clem staring back at him with her dark eyes and cute smile. 

This woman is no Clementine, and that's for sure. 

He doesn't know why he tries it, but he does. "You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever; everything is unchanged, and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"

He watches as her eyes scrunch momentarily in confusion.

"I don't know. It's probably Paris. I'm obsessed with their lifestyle, honestly."

Lewis turns his head back to the ceiling.

He wants her to leave. And he wants Clementine to be in her place.

It's quiet and awkward, and she doesn't even try to ask him. 

He already knows his answer. He'd be with Clem in his bed, hands connected as they lie naked underneath his covers, heads turned to each other as they talk. He'd watch on as the moonlight supersedes the darkness and the moonbeams are replaced with sun rays. And he'd listen to her feel things like she made him. And he'd be happy and content with spending eternity like that.

Everything unchanged, nothing new.

Lewis begins to think that maybe casual sex isn't for him anymore. Perhaps he's taking Clem's absence extra hard because he yearned for the other form of intimacy, the emotional aspect of being with a woman.

So he tries dating. 

And he comes to the same conclusion, date after date.

Their eyes don't gleam like hers.

They don't understand his humor.

They don't care about why losing his favorite toy as a kid was an integral part of the man he became.

They can't carry on discussions like Clem or even talk like Clem.

They don't have her precious smile and her deep dimples. They're not gracious and benevolent.

They aren't Clem, no one ever will be.

Lewis craves Clem; he misses her with every fiber of his being.

And he regrets letting her up from his bed. He regrets telling her to pursue another man. 

When Lewis returns to New York, his thumb lingers over the send button.

clemmy 🪂

I need to see you, where are you?

He doesn't send the message; he drops his phone with a sigh, knuckling at his eyes. Why was it so fucking hard? He'd never felt this troubled in his life, especially over a woman he'd never even dated.

He sighs in distress, picks up his phone, stares at the message begging to be sent, and clicks off of the app. Instead, he opens his Instagram. As he goes to search for Clem's name, he sees that she is still his top search, and he feels like a loser as he enters her profile.

He'd take any sight of her he could get.

-

Clementine wouldn't say she was necessarily religious. Her grandpa would probably drop dead of a heart attack if he heard that. But it was the truth. She thought it was fairytale-like sometimes. Yes, she had faith, but she wasn't as devout as many people. 

If she was being honest, she thought religion began as something beautiful, putting your complete trust and faith into another person, with the idea that they were quite literally the holy grail. Over time, it's been skewed and manipulated, some for great purposes and others for very wrong reasons. 

She thought most religious people were hypocrites. Lewis was a hypocrite for sure, giving her an inch and then taking a mile. Now that she has had time to ponder over it, Lewis Hamilton is actually a sick man. Pouring affection into her and poisoning her heart. 

How did he expect her not to fall for him when he treated her the way he did? She feels like a fool herself, too, thinking back to the conversation she had with him the night before it all went to shit. 

"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."

Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."

Lewis was a hypocrite, and she was too. 

But the truth is religion gave people purpose. She'd never felt it firmly in a spiritual sense, but she had experienced that strong urge to follow someone's every command. She's believed every word that tumbles from his mouth. Given the opportunity, she would surely drop to her knees at his feet. She's only ever felt the need to praise and put her limited faith and her secured trust into one person. Sure, she had faith, just in a bad religion. She admired one man, Lewis Hamilton, but there was one problem, she could never make him love her the way she loved him.

Clem took his advice. She branched off, presented herself in new ways, made new friends, developed herself, and found someone who would take her seriously, though that didn't last long at all. 

clementine

liked by feliciathegoat, pharrell, and 12,898,465 others

clementine so, they've helped me make an album? Clementine, NYC out now on all streaming platforms !! 

view all comments

feliciathegoat Cool kids doing cool shit 🏌🏿

clementine the coolest 😎

lilyachty ALBUM OF THE FUCKING YEAR

clementine 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

user no bc who did my girl like that

clementine no really, it's okay though builds character 😃

user builds character my ass, go beat his ass

user A MOVIE AND MUSIC IN THE SAME YEAR ASVJHKHK WHEN DO WE GET SEASON 2???

clementine yk im filming girl 🙄

clementine

liked by danielricciardo, justinbieber, and 10,898,465 others

clementine two post in one day bc why not, what's everyone's favorite song from Clementine, NYC?!?

danielricciardo In your hands slaps

clementine you sir, have great taste 😘

user daniel what are you doing here 😭

user No really, weird ass crossover episode

user the blue hair to match the album cover the movie * chefs kiss*, your creativity is unmatched queen

clementine you noticing the small details >>>

justinbieber posting us arguing over the order is killing me

clementine no bc we both look so over it 😂

user I love her and Tyler's friendship sm

feliciathegoat i love my bestie

clementine and I love u T 🥹

-

Lewis instantly throws in his airpods and starts the album, one by one he listens to each song. Sure enough every song has small anecdotes about their time together that only he'd know.

He was aware that he was blurring the lines between just benefits and true feelings, but he didn't know that he wasn't the only one feeling strongly about it. He never took her feelings into account.

Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse about the situation, that realization dawned on him. Clementine Russell loved him and he threw her to the curb like a bag of trash. 

He's throwing on whatever clothes he sees first as he rushes from his door. 

He doesn't bother calling his driver as he treks block after block; he has one destination in mind, Clem's townhome. 

He's there before he knows it, his fist urgently banging against her door. 

He sees a light flicker on through the window, and then her door swings open.

She's in her nightshirt with her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her eyes are puffy from sleep. When she sees Lewis, she begins to swing the door back closed, but his hand pushes against it.

"No, Lewis." She snarls, swinging the door open again. She is looking at him like he's the devil himself. "I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't even want to think of you."

"Clem, please." He begs, "Please, I can't take it."

She pauses at the door, taking her time to study the man in front of her. He looks bad, simply put.

His eyes are bloodshot and droopy with bags, his braids are disheveled and clearly in need of a touch-up, and he just looks all around miserable.

She almost gives in until she thinks back to the last eight months where she had been miserable herself. She smacks her teeth swinging the door closed until she hears Lewis shout out three words that take her back to when the roads got foggy, Cannes. When she realized the difference in how she actually felt for Lewis.

"I love you."

She peels the door back open and stares at him intensely. "What did you say?"

He looks like he's watched his whole world get taken away from him as he repeats himself, "I love you. Don't shut the door, please."

"It's not fair, Lewis." She fumes.

"I know." He whispers, and his voice cracks.

"You don't get to do this to me." Clem snapped. "You can't just make me feel things for you and then push me away. You can't make me love you and then hurt me and tell me you love me when it's too late."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry, isn't enough." She hissed angrily, approaching him and poking his chest. 

He reaches up and grabs her hand, holding it close to his chest. She feels him shudder underneath her touch, and his body begins to shake.

"Clem, I'm sorry." his voice is hoarse and thick as he peers down at her, and she cracks when she feels a teardrop against their connected hands. "I'm sorry."

Her forehead drops against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. "You didn't deserve that; I should have just told you; I was scared; you broke all of my walls, Clem; I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to hurt you in the end."

"But you did, " she cries.

"I know, I did; I was scared of commitment, was scared I would ruin us further down the line." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm not scared of commitment, Clem, not anymore. I just don't want to be committed if it's not to you."

"You don't mean that." Clem breathes. 

"I promise I do, Clem."

She steps back from him, letting his arms fall to his side. "You made me feel dirty."

He opens his mouth, and she puts up her hand, "Let me talk. I let you disrespect me, Lewis. I should be done with you. I should be over you. I don't care how much I feel for you; if you ever, and I mean ever, speak to me that way or treat me like I'm nothing ever again, all gracefulness is out of the fucking window."

"I understand." He breathes, "I will never, Clem, and I mean never treat you like that again."

It's ironic, the two of them standing infront of each other as the sky illuminates in yellow and orange hues. 

"It's six in the morning." Clem sighs.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I wasn't supposed to be here today; you almost missed me," Clem informs.

"I would've found you. Lost you once already. I didn't know how much I cherished what we had until I no longer had it. Until I lost it. I don't want to lose you forever, too."

"It's almost spring," Clem announces. 

"Gonna take you to that mountain, Clem." He promises, pulling her into his arms again.

"I've missed you so much. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about. I missed talking to you." She admits and Lewis holds her tighter.

"I missed listening to you. Swear I did." 

"Are we still friends?"

"No, we're more than that. We should’ve never been friends. Always meant to be more." 

"I wrote an album about you." She sighs.

She feels Lewis hum against her. "It's beautiful."

"I talked so much shit about you, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for feeling Clem, I was a shit person to you." 

"My hair is blue." She announces, and he chuckles; there she was, his Clem talking his head off.

"Starting over, right?"

"Yeah, starting over."

Although they weren't laying in bed on their backs hands connected and staring through the ceiling like it was their sky. Things felt familiar to the two as the sun rose and light beamed around them.

Lewis was her sunset, the beauty that comes after a hard and blaring day. To him, she was the sunrise. After the darkness, it will always be light again. She was his light source, and he knew that now. He could never lose something that's always shining. 

"Thank you for showing up for me."

Not proofread

the album:

bad religion - frank ocean

in your hands - halle

i think- tyler, the creator

saturn- sza

broken is the man- jorja smith

everything is gonna be alright- infinity song

everything- kehlani

mine- beyonce ft drake

poison- beyonce

are we still friends- tyler, the creator

eternal sunshine- jhene aiko

<3

[dcintys]

·˚ ༘ DRIVERS ON DRIVERS

warnings: none!

summary: valeria & lando interview each other for youtube. (based on vogue’s actors on actors)

the interview room was quiet except for the sound of clicking cameras and the distant hum of the paddock. lando sat back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye as he adjusted his mclaren jacket, making sure it was perfectly placed for the camera. across from him, valeria, sat with her back straight, a confident smile playing on her lips.

it was supposed to be a standard actors on actors-style interview—drivers interviewing each other, discussing their careers, their struggles, their triumphs. but there was something in the air. something that made the tension palpable, even though they hadn’t even started the interview yet.

lando raised an eyebrow. “so, I’m interviewing the new red bull prodigy. i’ve heard you’ve got some moves, valeria. tell me, how does it feel knowing you’re taking over from… me as the next big thing?” his voice was teasing, but there was a slight edge of challenge.

valeria’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “well i’m sure i wont be taking over a whole lot.” sarcasm laces her tone as she leans forward a little, her posture radiating confidence.

he fakes a gasp and runs his hand through his hair, but there was something about the way her eyes lingered on him that made him shift slightly in his seat.

“let’s get serious for a second. what’s the hardest part of being the youngest driver on the grid? how does it feel to be that young and already having everyone’s eyes on you?”

valeria gave him an easy smile,

“honestly, it’s a bit surreal. but I’ve been racing for years, and I’m ready for this. sure, there’s a lot of pressure, but I like it. I thrive on it. and besides, having people like you around to keep me on my toes makes it a lot more fun.” she shot him a teasing glance, clearly unbothered by the weight of the competition.

lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her confidence.

“oh, so you’re not intimidated? that’s a little bold of you, cruz.” his voice was playful, but his tone was softer than usual. he’d expected her to be a little more nervous, a little more reserved.

“intimidated? nah,” valeria replied with a bright smile.

“I think I’ve got enough confidence to go around. but don’t worry, I’ll let you keep your crown for a little longer, lando. you’ve earned it.”

she smiled, genuinely respectful of the time he’d spent on the grid, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes, like she was already plotting her way up.

lando chuckled, clearly enjoying her straightforwardness.

“you’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that. but tell me—what’s one thing about you that the paddock doesn’t know? besides the obvious—your incredible driving skills, of course.”

valeria laughed, shrugging her shoulders as if pondering the question.

“well, I think a lot of people are surprised by how much I love cooking. I guess they expect me to be all track-focused and not care about anything else, but I love experimenting in the kitchen. it’s my way of unwinding.”

lando’s eyes lit up, his playful side coming to the forefront.

“cooking, huh? I think you just got yourself a dinner date invitation, then. I might need some tips.”

valeria’s smile widened, but she was quick to play along. “only if you’re prepared to actually cook, lando. I’m not here to do all the work.”

“oh, I can hold my own in the kitchen,” lando said, leaning forward with a grin. “but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

there was a moment of light, teasing laughter before valeria shifted gears, clearly interested in turning the spotlight back on him.

“alright, your turn. if you could give me one piece of advice—something I might not learn in the team briefings—what would it be?”

lando took a deep breath, his usual playfulness giving way to a more thoughtful expression. “keep your focus. It’s easy to get caught up in all the noise around you—the media, the fans, the pressure. but at the end of the day, it’s just you and the car. don’t lose sight of that.”

valeria nodded, appreciating the sincerity in his words. “that’s good advice. i’ll keep that in mind.”

the atmosphere shifted, and for a moment, the playful banter turned into a more genuine conversation between two drivers who understood the unique pressures of being on the grid. but it wasn’t long before lando leaned back, returning to his teasing nature.

“so, tell me, val—who’s going to be more of a challenge on track? me? or max?”

valeria laughed softly, her eyes sparkling when noticing the nickname.

“well, I think I’ll take on max first. you, lando—you’re a little too fun to chase right now. i’ll need to save my energy for you later.” she shot him a playful wink, her smile never fading.

lando grinned, clearly impressed by her confidence and ease.

“oh, I see. you’re already trying to get me to go easy on you, huh?” his eyes twinkled as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just a touch. “I won’t go easy on you, valeria. not when the competition’s this good.”

her smile softened, but there was a quiet challenge in her tone. “good. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” her voice was light, but there was an undeniable spark between them, the kind that made the air between them feel charged with something more.

the interview was drawing to a close, and the cameras began signaling for them to wrap up. as they stood, lando offered her a sly smile. “you know, cruz, you’re not half bad. I might actually be looking forward to sharing the track with you this season.”

valeria chuckled, standing taller, her eyes locking with his. “you’re not so bad yourself, norris. just make sure you don’t blink when I pass you.”

as they walked off together, their playful banter lingering in the air, both knew this rivalry was about more than just racing. it was about respect, competition, and maybe, just maybe, something else lurking beneath the surface. something that neither was quite ready to admit—but neither was willing to deny.

note: requests are open!

[diejager]

hi i love your work so much omg

…what do you think of the scenario of monster!141 x (platonic, if you want, it’s probably for the better) reader that’s made up of thousands of worms/spiders/or whatever creatures. reader is always covered up in clothes that cover up the entire ‘skin’ and they speak extremely weirdly/like everything’s speaking all at once and the voice is just sounding from the mouth but also in the torso? and legs? . the thing is that reader is shy or something and doesn’t want to admit that they’re just a hive mind of creatures, but it’s just kinda obvious not really (well obvious to monster 141). 141 doesn’t really want to comment on it because they’re just nice like that and find ways to help Reader get through some situations lmao (help i’m sleep deprived and i made this thought in 3 AM ish).

i give you a piece of 🧀

Many

Pairing: Platonic Monster 141 + König & Horangi x monster!reader

Cw: spiders, blood, military inaccuracies, canon-typical violence, cannibalism? Eating human, hive mind monster, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.9k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with y’a, I went on a spree and completely forgot what you first asked for but uh… I used some of your ideas and I hope it’s apparent enough?

For someone as decorated as you were, you were awfully timid, shying from human and hybrid interaction like a plague. Perhaps it was unintentional, the stiffness in your shoulders or the constant coverage, but to the world around you, you were nothing but an awkward person whose social cues were lost to time after more than a decade in the force. Starting your days covered head to toe, black over more black, or khaki and brown over more khaki and brown depending on the situation of your stay and deployment. 

Despite your social anxiety, your voice stayed strong and unwavering in the field, a cold, monotone voice that would coordinate the team if needed —you were a prolific intelligence specialist, that found your calling in intelligence gathering from the deepest and darkest pits, and an infiltration specialist that was sought out for your proficiency and successful operations worldwide, especially the undercover Ops done in secrecy. You’ve led a few clandestine Ops with Laswell for 141, the Station Chief letting you lead and direct them, trusting your insights and they always resulted in successful missions, coming back bruised and battered but alive and securing the cargo (or whatever they were sent there for). 

That meant that they knew you, your voice, your confident tone when you directed them, your unwavering decisions and your helpful guidance, but they hadn’t seen you until a few months ago. You were officially assigned to Task Force 141 as their Intelligence and Infiltration specialist, working on and off. This would be the first time you actively moved to the front, standing beside them during infiltrations, slipping into the enemy base with efficiency and silence. You moved as if you were a part of the shadows, melting into the darkness and disappearing from any camera and scans, your body invincible to infrared cameras or heat sensors. 

You moved with fluid motions, your body incredibly - scarily - flexible and seemingly aware of everything around you. To humans, you were probably the most skillful and abnormal human, born with talents that far rivalled those of hybrids, and a saviour to some for being able to keep them alive even through the hardest moments of their capture; but to monsters, to hybrids, you were special, a different type of creature that held a different category in the classes, one that humans knew little outside of the government and military. 

Whereas humans saw you as a stiff and socially awkward human that covered their whole body, TF141 knew better, they could sense it a mile away, the difference in you, the odd aura and smell you projected. Soap and König had mentioned it in the past, in the bustling Mess hall where they shared a table, Soap had noted that you smelled off, of something dead yet alive and König only brought the oddness of you holding thousands of different scents, musks that didn’t originate from one place, but from around the world. 

Gaz and Horangi gave off-handed comments about sudden movement under your clothes, a slight - near invisible - ripple under your neck or on your arm, their eyes zoning to the smallest of movements. Gaz brought it up first, his voice hesitant and confused, frowning down at his plate when he mentioned it to the others, only to feel reassured that he wasn’t imagining it, the small ripple that no one else perceived, when Horangi shared his own observations. Horangi had seen small black spots moving over your shirt and under the tight mask hiding your face, tiny-legged creatures climbing over you and vanishing under your clothes as if they were never there. 

Rudy was the best at understanding people, sympathising with both monsters and humans, but you just seemed lost, a shy creature that always hid from others when you weren’t needed. He and Alejandro remembered when they spoke to you after an Op, catching up to you before you fled to hide in your room, your tone was soft and shy, but it seemed to come from everywhere, never staying in one place as if there wasn’t a source to your voice. One moment your voice would come from your face, and then the next, it’d be down your abdomen, every word you spoke came out of a different area, but your chin never moved, face still and unmoving. 

They brought it up to Ghost, who’d sit with them at their table, pushed against the wall for privacy around human soldiers, since he - leaving out Price - knew you best, having worked with you a few times in the past where they needed your expertise in infiltration and hostage securing. They had hoped that Ghost could give them a few insights on you, whether it be about your kind or your uniqueness, they wanted something - anything - to quell their growing curiosity. Not only was Ghost one of their only sources of information, but he was also a paranoid one, always demanding an operator's file before and after they joined, his mind going through loops to calculate the danger of the new addition. Ghost was a guarded and walled-up character, ensuring that they wouldn’t betray him in the long run.

Unfortunately, Ghost knew as little as they did, Price was stricter with your information, keeping it under a hard lock and key. Only he and Laswell held information about you, your little quirks and details were a secret to anyone who wasn’t in the higher-ranked stations or the commanding rank and station chief. They had nothing to go on but theories, little hypothesis until Price or Laswell - whichever caved first to their incessant pleading - disclosed your personal file. So they did what they could with their observations, combining up with different monsters they’ve crossed paths with. You could’ve been one of those crossbred hybrids where they coupled for specific perks, or an experiment, seeing that you had an aversion to physical touch and human interactions. The least possible one, by far, was that you were an Eldritch being, a creature of horror and madness. 

“Classified for now, sergeant,” was all Price had told Soap when he cracked, his puppy-like excitement getting the best of him. “You’ll have to ask them, yeah?”

That left them with little to no choice but to watch you more closely, to observe their surroundings for any clues and to note anything bizarre since they couldn’t necessarily outright ask you. You fled seconds after anyone tried to start a conversation, head down and feet moving too swiftly to not seem like you were avoiding them or any long discussion as if you knew what they were planning. You seemed to have eyes at the back of your head, reacting instantly when one of them would follow you wherever you went, slinking from one shadow to the other, trying their best to hide from your sight and sense, but you were an expert in your own right, knowing and aware of undercover tactics when one was used against you.

Fortunately for them, other clues helped, subtle signs that most people wouldn’t even catch. The first one was small, jerky spiders that weren’t local to the UK or any continent, they weren’t like any arachnid they’d ever found, that was the first thing they noticed when they came across one, but the true challenge was to catch one of those pesky things. They were quick and small, evading them as if they had a mind of their own, their bites painful if one of them tried to grab it with a hand, the tiny fangs piercing through the thick material of their gloves, but once Soap got his paws on one, he made sure to keep it in the glass container. The spider was small, its exoskeleton so dark that it seemed to swallow any light rather than reflect it, a shade of black so black that it didn’t let any colours out. It didn’t look hairy, the shell so smooth and spotless that it seemed like two circles if they ignored the scrawny legs. 

Those spiders were almost everywhere, yet they went unnoticed by the people walking around the base and them until now. Other than the spiders, your aversion to physical contact and socialising, and favouring your privacy much more than anyone on the TF. You didn’t eat with them —you never seemed to eat at all. Your voice moved so often that the possibility of you having many mouths came to mind a lot. Your body was extremely nimble, bending in odd - sometimes painful for others - ways. Over other observations, everything they took notice of you were things that were inhuman, it made you a minority in the military - much like them - and a mystery to your team. 

They went on for months, unbothered that they might have seemed slightly obsessive, a stalker following his obsession. They weren’t worried about others calling them out, humans would chalk it up to monster stuff with a sneer and look the other way when Ghost or König glared at them. That didn’t escape you, Price or even Laswell’s eyes and ears around the world. 

“You boys don’t know when to stop, hmm?” Price wore a frown, brows cocked questioningly. His tone was one of a tired and relenting to their months-long search. “You’re lucky they weren’t mad about this.”

“So you’ll tell us, boss?” Ghost hid his excitement better than the rest, his chest rumbling lowly and eyes narrowed darkly, but not with a dangerous gleam. 

“Better if you see it yourself,” he sighed, crossing his arms, hunching against his chair, lip quirking at a corner. It was a cheeky lopsided smile, teasing them with having to wait longer. “It’s hard to explain in words. It’s quite the sight.”

And a sight it was! Watching you melt to the ground, your body scattering in thousands of small spiders that moved towards the body lying before you. You’d been paired with Ghost and Soap for this Op, leading them down a path you knew didn’t have any hostiles, getting intel back from the many spiders scattered around the area. They were the first to watch you eat, arachnids swallowing up the bodies, devouring them at record speed. You ate flesh and bones, ligaments and tendons melted by your acidic bite that only left clothes behind as an indication that someone died here. They were the lucky ones to see you eat, to bear witness to your monstrosity in the flesh and your moment of weakness where you had to sustain yourself, shedding off the shape of a human body.

It left Soap filled with awe, seeing you break away in thousands of individual bodies and come back together as one, and Ghost’s mind strewed with questions, some answered when you told them that you were self-conscious, a hive mind made up of spiders to form a body. You weren’t hiding away because you were afraid of them or that you hated socialising, you were simply too self-aware of your making, of the natural fear of eight-legged creatures. So you hid, shying away from people, thinking that they’d hate you for being what you were, a colony of undocumented spiders working as one. 

Horangi, Rudy and Alejandro caught you in action on the second covert operation when you were given the signal to lead your small squad into enemy lines. They watched the clothes you wore ripple, little critters bulging out from under your protective gear and rolling down your body in waves, black masses dropping off and separating. You were spread around the place, everyone acting as an extension of your mind and body, and they were —thousands of spiders sharing one mind. You shrank lightly, your body mass lower than it was with your body spanned across the area, working as your eyes and ears from afar like cameras worked for Laswell, except that your reach was farther and more potent. 

It was expected, but not less surprising to the three, watching your body shorten and little spiders crawl all over you. It would’ve made the hardiest monster shudder in fear or repulsion, feeling hundreds of legs moving about over their body, it would’ve made them slightly apprehensive, knowing from Soap and Ghost that your bite could be acidic, melting tough muscle and robust bone. It made more sense as to why you were so nimble and so observant, you had parts of yourself scattered around, working to map out everything and see everything. You were what made you so sought after for your skills in clandestine missions and covert infiltrations, it was scarily inspiring.

Gaz and König were the unlucky ones, being in the wrong place at the wrong time to see you “die”. With how unlucky his streak with helicopters was, it wasn’t a surprise that he was falling from another one, his wing bleeding from a bullet wound, the copper piercing through the meat and grazing the bone. It had him handicapped for the next few missions, staying on base until it healed completely unless he wanted to cause a bigger issue with his third pair of limbs. You were medevaced, watching Gaz grunt and groan, holding his wounded wing against his chest with a face screwed in pain. He’d been in an unfortunate situation, being purposely targeted by the enemy, and the situation couldn’t get any worse. 

The helicopter was shot down, and the flares deployed too late to stop the missile. It was a fiery mess, there was screaming and the loud crack of metal breaking, you could hear Laswell yell out in the coms, her worried and frantic voice trying to reach you and Gaz in the falling blaze. Most harpies feared fire, the flames burning their feathers and scarring the skin, making it impossible to regrow feathers on some rare occurrences. Gaz couldn’t remember much after the fall, waking up in pitch darkness, his skin crawling with shivers and invisible hands. He couldn’t make out left from right, he didn’t know if he was lying face down or on his back, and he wasn’t even sure he was conscious, seeing that all he could see was black. Then he felt sudden movement, a prickly sensation covering his body until light broke through.

He could feel his arms and his legs, he could stretch his wing out when he sat up, he wasn’t burned or hurt more than what he had before the crash, but he couldn’t see you when he looked around. He palmed the ground, feeling around the rough floor for you, your small, black spiders. You were on and around him, slowly climbing off him and flocking to a large mass. Your clothes were gone, burned to ashes in the mess while you shielded him, taking the brunt of the heat and burns. He swallowed down the quake that wracked his body and rushed to you, frantic to see whether or not you were in pain. Rather than forming back into a human, your appearance resembles more of a large mammal on four, clawed legs. Seeing that you were fine - or so he thought - he called back for evac, getting cover with your prone figure guarding him until the other helicopter and support came back.

König’s accident was more vicious than Gaz’s, losing control of his urges, letting himself shift and rampage through the area, ripping apart both enemy and ally. You were another body in his path, his claws tearing through your chest with sharp, bloodied hands. The others panicked, watching you scatter into pieces, falling apart from the seams as if someone had pulled out the only string that held you together. Instead of blood and guts, intestines that should’ve called out in a bloody mess, you broke apart, some fell to the ground, crushed under König’s weight, and others clung to him, swarming to stop him before he caused more chaos. 

It looked like a futile attempt from outside viewpoints, watching the beast stumble blindly, his face covered, your thousand pairs of legs locked to keep his mouth closed from causing more harm to others with his serrated teeth made to gnaw through bone and break flesh and muscle to consume and feed his big appetite. They could only stare at König trash around, limbs slowly being locked together, bounding his arms from flailing and slashing at people and his leg from blindly ambling and rushing towards his next victim. You rippled around König, a mass becoming a full-body restraint containing the hybrid’s grunts and growls, unmoving and unrelenting against him. 

You kept König’s rampage in check, keeping him contained while they moved both you and him to the aircraft and back to base where they could wait out the shift, the burst of rage in the hybrid. Gaz had thrown you a bundle of clothes after König fell asleep, you slipped off and crawled to your clothes, reappearing in a human shape under all your protective layers. Although they knew you could take extensive damage and survive unscathed, they still worried, would your strength still held together with a chaotic mix of human resilience and percht invulnerability.

You seemed to have let yourself go a bit, letting Soap or Gaz drag you around the base, letting Rudy and Alejandro strike up a conversation, letting Ghost or König sit with you in silence, and letting Horangi get the jump on you and follow you soundlessly because he was curious (and answering his questions). You might not eat with them, but you swallowed down your fright and agreed to sit at their table while they ate, digging into their preferred meal and occasionally replying to their friendly banter. You were still nervous about spending so much time in public, the looming fear of being faced with disgust from your allies was still possible, but you - with the supporting pat on the shoulder from Price - worked through your storming thoughts and insecurities. 

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[exilethegame]

For pure angst and evil purposes, how easy would it be to make ROs cry?

Alright, here's them rated hardest to make cry to easiest-- and keep note, this is specifically in the context of someone trying to hurt their feelings (and them knowing). Because the order would change in so many ways for so many different things (who cries most under stress, who cries most if someone they care for is hurt, etc, etc)

Hardest to easiest: Sabir, Jost, Nikke + Syfyn, Amilia, Vethna

Freedom (is their own thing)

Sabir: Sabir, in general, is a vulnerable person. He likes being honest when he's not in "politician mode", likes sharing his feelings, feels comfort in openly showing his emotions which includes crying. But if for whatever reason someone starts really trying to hurt his feelings, that man can just... shut them off. I mean really turn off his emotions. It's honestly unsettling, and probably very disturbing. You won't be able to make him cry. Like... you just won't.

That being said, there are some people I don't think Sabir could ever muster the strength to do that to. It's not that he's not capable of it, it's that he'd rather be open and allow himself to be hurt by the person he loves than ever shut them out. (Looks at evil MCs nervously...)

Jost: Jost is pretty similar to Sabir, except she's always on the emotional defensive. She doesn't let people in ever, and because of that, it's hard to get a sad reaction from her. That being said, Jost is like... hilariously easy to piss off but that can go from being funny to being really upsetting to witness real quick. Because of that, I think it's possible, if you keep pressing hard enough, to make Jost cry from anger and rage. But you'd have to keep her cornered, cause she'd try to make a run for it before that could happen.

Nikke + Syfyn: They're tied! They both have pretty strong brave faces, but at their core, they're both such loyal and dedicated people that their strong face would crack, inevitably. Seeing someone they care for lash out at them, use their weaknesses against them, would be enough to make them start breaking down. But it wouldn't be soft crying. It'd be angry, defensive, confused. And they'd both probably storm off at the end and retreat into themselves. The only difference is Syfyn is terrible at holding a grudge and keeping a cold shoulder (MC snapping is a *cough* exception), and Nikke is a little too good at it.

Amilia: Amilia, honestly, is probably equal to Nikke + Syfyn in terms of how much you'd have to throw at her to make her actually start crying, but she's a lot more vulnerable. She won't hide the fact she's becoming upset, she'll beg for the other person to just stop, and when they don't... she'd just start crying. Not ugly crying, not breaking down, but she'd make no attempt to hide her tears as she sniffles. I think Amilia is comfortable in that sadness in a way the others aren't, and she has no problem being blunt in that sadness-- asking the other person if they're happy they made her hurt (and genuinely asking, not just saying it to spite them). It's hard to explain... maybe I'll get the chance to write it... in game... (*looks at camera dramatically*)

Vethna: Don't. Please don't. If someone close to Vethna, at this point, just straight up turned on them and started throwing shit at their face in a fight to purposely hurt them and was just outwardly downright malicious, Vethna wouldn't even put up a fight. They'd probably try to look indignant, nonchalant, and unfazed, throwing a witty, sharp retort your way... but that would probably last a total of ten seconds before they just start crying. I get this image in my head of Vethna almost seeming child-like when they cry-- pouted lips, huffing breaths, avoiding the other person's gaze. I think Vethna has too many "sore spots" in their self-worth and confidence to be able to handle something like that with any sort of grace. But the worst part is I think that leaves them very susceptible to manipulation. Vethna craves approval from the people around them, so it would be easy to use their vulnerability against them.

Freedom: Okay, Freedom is just hovering all around because emotions are so wonderfully bizarre and strange to/for them. I don't think you could make Freedom cry if you were just like... "I'm gonna be a dick because I'm annoyed or angry" and started insulting them. They'd just look at you with a raised brow and vaguely amused expression. But if someone was close to them, and genuinely upset by something Freedom did, and that person was hurt and fighting back tears and lashing out as a response... then I believe that would make Freedom cry. MC + Freedom are very innately connected, and I think feeling the weight of those emotions on them if they're close would be enough to make Freedom start crying... and then become incredibly confused by it. They're definitely a pretty crier though-- like, their face is all stone-still and then their tears run down all dramatically...

[jk-kiwi]

Matchmaker

Matchmaker Mini series (?) - Part 1 Characters - BFF/JK x business owner Y/N (Woman)

Genre - romance, drama, angst, unreciprocated feelings, fluff (?), THIS is fiction!

Summary - Looking for love? Matchmaker could be the answer. But in a game of love, sometimes the hardest person to win over is the one closest to you. Will you be able to handle the love you've always dreamed of…or will the truth tear everything you’ve ever built apart? Matchmaker—where love meets destiny, and the real challenge begins when you least expect it.

Warnings - dating app shenanigans, jealousy, JK is going with other girls (he’s not dating though), a little bit of stalker behaviour, making a fake profile.

Author’s note - This is more of a pilot episode!!! I plan on making this a mini series with maybe 3is chapters if people are interested. I'm down for any ideas. PLEASE READ!

Word count - 2.6k

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“Yet another successful year for such an inspiring businesswoman! Miss Y/L/N, how do you feel knowing your app Matchmaker has topped the charts for yet another year? 

The enthusiasm was obvious in the reporter’s voice, her eyes sparkling with glam and eager while waiting for your response. You smile a little, leaning closer to the mic in front. “It’s an honor, truly! I’m happy my project helped so many find true love.” you reply smoothly, the people in front of you cheering loudly at your humble response. “You must be the ultimate romantic!” the reporter squeaks in joy “With so much success matchmaking others, how about your own love story? Is there a special someone in your life?” she asks curiously, making you freeze slightly. 

You clear your throat, smiling shyly. “Let’s just say I’ve been a little busy helping others achieve true love, it’s been hard to focus on my own.” The crown chuckles at your response while you avert your gaze at the watch on your hand, trying to come up with a solution to change the topic, and fast. “I don’t have much time left, are there any other questions regarding my application?” The lady was caught off guard at how bold and confident you were in changing the topic, but she managed to gain composure way too quickly for your own liking. 

“What more can we say, your app has a 95% success rate, you’ve truly made something extraordinary! What’s next for Matchmaker? Any exciting updates we can look forward to?”

You nod, your heel impatiently clicking on the floor. “Absolutely! We’re working on a new feature that incorporates real-time features to help dating take a much smoother turn! Please stay tuned for the updates!” You clasp your hands together smiling brightly. The reporter says the ending phrases, thanking you and everyone around while the cameras flash brightly towards you. With a final wave you step out of the public eye and into the backstage of the place, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and the buzz of a phone catching your attention.

_______________

Mr. JK - Saw the interview, you did great!

_______________

You smile seeing his message pop up, so he’s watched it after all. You lean against the wall, fingers hovering over the screen for a second before typing a response. _______________

Mr. JK - Saw the interview, you did great!

Y/N - You said you would not watch it! What a liar! 

Mr. JK - How can I not watch my favorite girl? _______________

His instant response makes your fingers freeze, leaving him on seen before closing your screen. A warm feeling starts spreading through you, making your heart race. His favorite girl? That’s not possible. You take a deep breath, unsure whether to respond or wait for him to send a next message. “Is he joking?” you ask yourself seeing he does not come with a reply. You sigh after 5 minutes of painful wait, wondering if Jungkook has that cocky grin on his face knowing he’s put you on the spot, if he even knows in the first place. The boy is clueless. Gathering the left over equipment and your bag, you make your way out of the building, one bodyguard on either side. Coming closer to the door you could hear the cheers and laughter of fans, their joy bursting in loud screams when you come out.You wave lightly, bowing down while trying to avoid questions, fame was not what you had in plan for your life, but you tried to enjoy it. 

Matchmaker. 

This was what brought you up to where you were right now. The app that transformed your career and also the lives of thousands of people, a success you’ve never imagined.

The project had been your passion, your dream. And it all started from a foolish mistake. 

You fell in love with your best friend.

That’s how it started, from the foolish guy you’ve been in love since 3rd grade.  But it wasn’t just about him. It was also about the stupid fact that the guy did not believe in love.

So you made matchmaker as a way to prove that love does not need to be over complicated when you meet the right person. 

And there you were now, your app has been number one on the dating charts for 5 years now, you’ve matched over 2 million people, yet you were still caught up on the web of being single, and your best friend was still the stupid fool who did not believe in love. In conclusion, the progress you made, despite being high on the app, was zero in your life.

—------------------

Pouring yourself a glass of wine you sit down on your sofa, the city lights from the lively night view being almost the only thing illuminating your living room.

You sink down between the plush pillows, grabbing the remote in your hand, switching through channels just to see you over and over. Old interviews, new interviews, media appearances you didn’t really remember making, but there you were, smiling brightly, speaking confidently. Each clip showing the polished, successful version of yourself that the world knows.

You can’t help but wonder, as your face flickers across the screen, “Is this who I really am?”. But the truth is, no matter how much success you have, it’s never enough when the one thing you truly want is something you can’t have. “Hey! There she is!” you jump in surprise, the red liquid spilling slightly on your nightgown. He stands in the doorway, a playful grin on his face. “What are you doing here?” you ask, setting your glass down, looking at how the wine spreads quickly, like fire, on your satin pajamas. Jungkook steps forward, unhinged at your reaction. His arms carrying the usual big bouquet of flowers he likes to gift you after a good appearance, a bottle of champagne in his other hand. “Came to celebrate another success of my girl!” Your nose scrunches up at the hearing of his praises, though, you should be used by now. “I told you not to call me that.” you mutter grabbing the flowers out of his hands. The boy chuckles before opening the bottle with a loud pop, rushing into your kitchen to grab glasses. “And there you go. For the great success of the best woman ever to exist, my best friend, Y/L/N Y/N, and for the phenomenon she’s created into the world of dating.” glasses clink together and you take a quick sip of the champagne. He drains the glass in one go, leaning on your couch with a satisfied face, making you chuckle and shake your head. Typical Jungkook. "You should savor it, not just gulp it down like that. It's good champagne." you tease him and he shrugs. “Some things should just be enjoyed all at once.” he replies, eyes staring at you as he props his arm up behind his head, making himself comfortable.

You roll your eyes, plopping next to him, his hand quickly reaches down to drag your gown a little lower. “Don’t show yourself like that.” His tone was unexpectedly serious. You scoff, folding your arms, letting silence break between you two. “So…what now?” you shift a little to face the man. “Should I tell you about my day? Are you up for a little rant?” Jungkook’s gaze softens slightly, his hand tracing patterns on your covered thigh, you just hum, eyes fixated on the tv. “Do you remember Rebecca?” 

“The girl you told me about, your coworker?” you remember her, how can you forget. 

Jungkook came in one day ranting to you how his new colleague has a crush on him. You sulked the whole day, how can you not remember. “Yes, her. We went out today.”

You swallow harshly, muscle tensing a little. “So, how was it?” your tone was cold, a flicker of jealousy catching you off guard so you try to play it cool. “Did you two have fun?” “Hmm, it was fine.” the man replies, shrugging it off as if it’s no big deal.

“Just fine?” you push. “I mean, she’s nice and all, and her body is uhhh, but I think she’s trying a little too hard to impress me.  You turn to face him more, the bitterness growing inside of you. “She could be fun for a few nights, I guess.” he adds with a casual voice. You scoff raising from your seat abruptly, not willing to take his shit any longer. Sure, Jungkook was a hot and funny guy, you knew he was not exactly a saint, man did not believe in love, not sex. But you also knew that his actions always hurt you in the end. He was a good friend, always there for you, helping with problems while dealing with his own, and you’ve been there for him countless times, especially since you were more financially stable and he had a lousy part time job that you always nagged him about. Even so, his boldness and the way he tells you everything that’s going on in his life so casually, bothered you a little. Safe to say, you were jealous, very jealous. 

He would come at times, ranting to you about all types of chicks he’s seen, telling you how his dates went on, or how many times they hooked up at his place, just to unknowingly hurt you in the end AND to never see them again since “they had flaws”. 

And that’s what stung the most. He’d get close to these girls, share himself with them only to pull away when things got a little serious, since love is just a “myth” in his stuck up, ideal head. It was frustrating, and it made you push away from him many times. “Are you upset?” he follows you around while you grab the glasses and clean around. You stop for a moment just to sigh, already feeling bad regarding the attitude you were giving him. “No, I’m fine,” you reply softly “Just really tired.”

His footsteps come closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind while you do the dishes. “If you're tired, you should rest. The coolest business woman I know will have another revolutionary day tomorrow.” You set the sponge down laughing at his nonsense. He lets go of you as you turn to face him, his smile big and genuine. “I should leave too, I have so much work tomorrow.” he groans, resting his head on your shoulder. “Go home and get some rest. You’ve got a busy day ahead too.” your words were soft, hands dragging through his silky black hair. He steps back after a while, but not without giving you an affectionate look. You watch him take his jacket before leaving, the warmth of his presence still lingering on your body. Your fingers still lightly brush your shoulder where his head had rested, smiling to yourself like an idiot before coming back to the cruel reality that you will never have this man. Shaking your head you take on, you lied to him. How can you go to sleep when you have so much to work on your plate, countless nights of making sure people love comes true? 

Entering your home office you set yourself in front of the big screen, the ironic motto “love has no time limit” stuck up on your wallpaper. 

You open your emails, reading through all the praises and positive reviews, as well as tips on how to improve your app and some other comments when something catches your eye. Or perhaps, someone? It was right there, in the new entry registration inbox, a list of thousands of mails, but one that caught your gaze so fast. “mr.jungkook.jeon@mail.com”. You pause, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your heart skips a beat. You know this mail, how can you not? It’s the one you did for him 12 years ago, back when you were 15. You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before clicking on it. He’s made an account.

Your best friend, the guy you’ve crushed on for as long as you remember, made an account on your dating app. Why?

Your heart races as you stare at the screen, what should you do? A rush of emotions burn within you when you start scrolling through his profile. It was a new account, freshly made, 5 days ago.

His picture is the one you took back when you were on vacation, at a ski resort, the time he taught you how to snowboard, the next few ones being the ones from the time you were on a cruise in Caraibe. “Looking for someone who believes love isn’t a myth, try change my mind.” It catches your eye, his bio. Age, name, what he works and one stupid quote you can’t quite pick on.

You stare at his profile for about an hour now, not even realising how much of a stalker you are. You lean on your chair, wondering about what to do before a devious thought crosses your mind. “I can’t.” you firmly say to yourself, but your hand was already reaching for your phone. “I shouldn’t…” you bite your lip while installing the app on your phone, opening it just to be met with the criteria of making an account. It’s an overwhelming feeling, what are you about to do could change everything. Closing your eyes for a second you enter your mail and password. A new section pops up, the customisation of your new profile. 

For a moment, you sit there frozen, staring at the screen in disbelief. This is it. You’ve just created a profile on your own app, just to interact with Jungkook without him knowing. “This is insane, you are insane.” but you can’t help the grin that grows on your face. You enter your bio, scroll through some pictures that could not give you away, deciding on some random vacation pics instead of yourself, before finishing your profile with the quote who characterises you the best “Hopeless romantic”

You pause and read it over a few times, wondering if it’s good enough to pass and after a final check “It’s done.”, you press save and the notification on your computer immediately goes up, telling you that, well, You, just registered on Matchmaker. Glancing at your phone and then back at the screen of your pc, worry creeps in while searching for Jungkook’s profile. It felt wrong, but the good type of wrong. With a shaky breath you stare at his profile, the big button of “swipe right” right in front of you. You take a big breath and without thinking, your thumb presses the button making you close your eyes in disbelief of what you’ve done. The screen blinks for a second, the quietness settling around, the only thing that could be heard would probably be the thumping of your heart. 

Then, the screen lights up again, the iconic butterfly interface you made for your app showing up with a message. 

“It’s a MATCH!”

For a second you don’t move, taking in the fact that you just matched up with your best friend under an unknown identity.

“What have I done?” You think again, but there’s no going back now. So, you sit there, eyes wide, staring at the screen, a single notification appearing way too soon.

_______________________

Jeon JK - Lia huh? What makes you be such a hopeless romantic?

_______________________

As you read the message, your breath catches in your throat, and with a soft laugh to yourself you close your eyes, the silence engulfing you being only the tip of the iceberg. “Mr. Jeon, let the game of love begin.”

And with this, your little game of making your best friend fall in love with you has begun. But are you really ready for what’s about to come next?

[msschemmenti]

The Bodyguard

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

summary : reader hasn't mastered the art of self-care yet and melissa helps.

a/n: been sitting with this for a bit, hoping to post more now that i'm kinda getting my adult life together :) i also could not tell you what happened at the end of this...

“Good Morning beautiful educators! Are we ready to change some lives?” Janine called, bounding into the teacher’s lounge. All eyes rolled and a collective sigh fell over the room. Despite the less than enthusiastic response, Janine’s smile remained in place as she shoved her lunch in the refrigerator and sat next to Jacob. 

“What’s got you so chipper this morning?” Melissa spoke, eyeing the younger woman over the cat-eye reading glasses she had perched on her nose.

“I just woke up well-rested. With the new schedule I’ve created for myself I’ve had loads more time to get things done. I’m worrying less and feeling my best.” Janine proudly spoke, causing the older women in the room to observe her thoughtfully. 

“That’s great Janine. You have seemed much more confident and that’s great to see.” Barbara smiled. 

“Good for you Kid. That’s often the hardest part of teaching in a school like this. It’s hard to take time for yourself.” Melissa smiles over her reading glasses, leveling the younger woman with a congratulatory nod. Janine beamed at the camera over the older woman's shoulder and turned to Jacob to listen to his spiel for the morning. As everyone went back to their own morning routines, Y/n slumped into the room heading straight for the coffee machine. The cameras followed her as she pulled a mug from her bag and filled it to the brim with the bitter liquid gold. As soon as she added the sugar and creamer she needed she gazed at her watch gauging how much time she had before school officially started. With twenty minutes to spare she trudged over to the couch and sighed as she slouched into the chair pulling out some homework she wasn’t able to finish before bed. With the young woman’s attention focused on her work and coffee, she missed the green eyes that seemed to track her as closely as the camera did. Melissa watched as the fifth grade teacher busied herself with stacks of paper and a book. It didn’t look to be the work of her students, so Melissa’s curiosity peaked. She watched as the younger woman wedged a highlighter between her teeth and flipped through pages of tiny text. Her eyes moved across the screen frantically as if trying to memorize as much of the information as possible in the next 20 minutes. She didn’t realize how long she’d been watching until she felt Barb bump her shoulder subtly. Melissa’s eyes landed on Barbara and was instantly met with a soft smirk lining her friend’s lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Melissa grumbled under her breath, peeking back over to the couch to see if the younger woman had relaxed a bit but she seemed to only have tensed more.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Barbara smirked allowing her eyes to fall to the younger woman as well. “It seems someone hasn’t mastered the ‘taking care of yourself’ part of all of this.” 

“What’s she working on anyway? It doesn’t look like anything the kids would be working on. I know she’s upstairs but they’d hardly be reading anything that long.” Melissa asked, finally turning back to Barb. 

“I’m not sure, but you know she’s still in school so that could definitely be some homework of her own.” Barb shrugged. 

“She’s still in school? What do you mean?” Melissa asked.

“She’s getting her masters. Which you’d know if you weren’t always being so standoffish. She does all her classes and coursework after we get off.” 

“I am not standoffish,” Melissa huffed indignantly, “I just don’t like new people.” 

“Mmhm, I don’t think that’s the case with one though.” Barbara grinned as she watched the red-head’s cheeks heat almost instantly at being called out.

“Oh shut up.” Melissa grumbled as the bell rang for the school day to finally start. She rose from her seat pointedly ignoring Barbara’s chuckle behind her as they made their way to their classrooms. 

-

“Alright, who has an answer they’d like to share?” Y/n asked from her place in the front of the classroom. Lunch was still about 10 minutes away but she wanted to at least finish the rest of the worksheet her students had been working on before sending them off. She let her eyes roam over the classroom patiently but as she saw no hands raise she knew she’d need to entice them a bit. “I know it’s hard you guys, but if we finish the last two problems I’ll let you head to lunch earlier.” 

She waited to see if anyone would take the bait and it seemed to work when Mariah raised her hand from the middle of the room. “Alright Mariah, what ya got for me?” 

“4 over 12.” She spoke timidly. 

“Uh Huh, and what’s 4 over 12 simplified?” Y/n prompted with a smile. Mariah seemed to be working through it but seemed a bit overwhelmed so Y/n opened it up to the rest of the class. “Anyone? What number can we divide both 4 and 12 by?”

“2.” Jamal called from the back row. 

“Yep, but is there a bigger number we could also use?” Y/n asked with a smile glad the students seemed to be getting closer and closer to the right answer. 

“Oh! I know.” Jasmine’s hand shot up from the front. 

“Alright Jasmine, what number are you thinking?” 

“4.” 

“Excellent! That’s exactly right. And if we divide them by 4, 4 over 12 becomes?”

“1 over 3!” Everyone answered. 

“Very good everyone. Let’s do the last one together and then we can head off.” Y/n smiled, heading to the white board and grabbing a marker. 

Melissa really isn’t sure how she found herself in the fifth grade hall. She’d dropped her kids to recess and somehow she’d found herself peeking through the glass window in the door of Y/n’s classroom. She watched as she patiently guided the students through the fractions. She could tell the students really appreciated the atmosphere she’d created in the classroom. Even when someone wasn’t right, there was nothing but support flowing through the space and Melissa had no choice but to admire the work she’d done to capture that. Realizing if anyone saw her up there she’d have no explanation for her behavior, she quickly turned on her heels to head back toward her classroom with the hopes of not being caught. In her descent of the stairs, she missed the camera man down the hall collecting footage.

-

Melissa hurried into the teacher’s lounge hoping to grab a snack before she needed to pick her students up from their art class. She pushed forcefully on the door and headed for the vending machine, letting the door swing behind her with little care. As the door clanged against the doorframe she heard the startled gasp within the room. She turned quickly with her fist up and ready to attack whoever was in the room. She only relaxed when she saw Y/n sat on the couch with her hand over her chest and wide eyes. There was a book in her lap and highlighter poking out of her hair. Melissa figured she was doing homework again but as she looked closer, she could see the grooved pattern of the couch fabric on the younger woman’s cheek. 

“Oh Melissa,” The younger woman sighed as she leaned back into the couch as she started to calm down. 

“Sorry Hon. Did I wake ya?” Melissa said, coming to lean on the back of the chair that was closest to the couch. 

“It's probably for the best. That was a complete accident.” Y/n shook her head a bit and pushed her hands down her face in an effort to liven up a bit. 

“Must not be too interesting, if it’s putting you to sleep.” Melissa commented, nodding her head toward the book still in Y/n’s lap.

“Unfortunately it is not. It doesn’t exactly help that I’m already sleep deprived. A recipe for a great nap.” Y/n chuckled lightly before turning her eyes to her watch. “Looks like it’s time for me to pick my kids up.” As Y/n gathered her things, Melissa watched and hummed in agreement. Once Y/n was done and her eyes met Melissa’s the older woman could see the exhaustion setting back in place. “See you around Melissa.” 

Y/n moved to walk past Melissa to the door, but Melissa hand wrapped around her forearm keeping her in front of her. “Hey, make sure you get some rest hon. We can’t have you collapsing on us like Janine.” Melissa squeezed her arm in emphasis and released her arm when she saw the younger woman nod in understanding.

-

From then Melissa found herself checking in with Y/n more often. She’d shed her ‘standoffish’ behavior and had become one of the teachers Y/n talked to the most. She never spent a lot of time with anyone on the elementary level teaching staff besides Barb, but now she seemed to be running into Melissa more and more. She’d be in the teacher lounge poured over a textbook or a stack of spelling tests and Melissa would appear with a hot mug of coffee. She’d gradually started bringing the younger woman lunch everyday of the week. It had started on a day about two weeks after Y/n had been caught napping on the couch. The fifth grade teacher had waltzed into the room carrying her laptop and textbook and that seemed to be it. It only took Melissa about 5 seconds of seeing her work on homework before she cleared her throat with a raised eyebrow. She, Y/n, and Barb were the only ones in the lounge so far so Y/n was quick to turn her attention to the older women’s table. 

“Oh hi.” Y/n said, meeting Melissa’s eyes. Assuming the redhead was upset she hadn’t greeted them when she arrived, she looked back at her work. 

 “Hello but that’s not what I wanted. Where is your lunch?” Melissa asked, eyeing the younger woman intently. 

“Oh I forgot it. I’m just gonna grab a snack after work to tide me over through class tonight.” Y/n shrugged, lifting the textbook from her lap. 

“You mean after school?” Barb cut in looking at the younger woman skeptically. 

“Mmhmm. No need to worry, I’ve done it loads of times before. I forget my lunch a lot more than I care to admit.” 

“Oh sweetheart, well that’s not healthy.” Barb said, shaking her head disapprovingly. 

“I know, I know. I try not to but I think I’ve done it so often that I hardly notice anyway.”

“Well that’s not happening anymore, get over here.” Melissa said, pulling out the chair next to her. Y/n looked at the older woman in confusion, not fully understanding what was happening. She didn’t move but watched as the older woman pulled a fork from one of the drawers and wedged it into the tupperware dish she’d been eating. When her eyes landed on Y/n’s face she looked at her expectantly. When the older woman didn’t say anything, Y/n grabbed her books and moved over to the older women’s table and sat in the seat obediently. With Y/n situated, Melissa slid the food in front of her and patted Y/n’s back, “Now eat.” 

Y/n went to protest but before she could even speak there was a fork-full of pasta in her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock initially but melted shut when the food hit her taste buds. “Oh this is so good.” At the praise Melissa smirked and went back to scrolling on her phone as Barbara laughed with a smile. From then on Melissa made it a point to pack a bit more food for lunch. And if Barbara asked about it she simply shrugged citing her large portion sized cooking as the reason. As Y/n and Melissa became closer, it seemed easier for the younger woman to take care of herself. With someone checking on her as often as Melissa had taken to, it became second nature. 

One day after a particularly demanding week of homework and tests, Melissa found Y/n sprawled out on the teachers lounge’s couch once again. It was a very similar scene to the first time but unlike last time, when the door closed Y/n didn’t start awake. If anything, she burrowed further into the couch and threw her arm over her eyes. Melissa paused briefly watching the younger woman sleep and sighed. She only looked at Y/n for a few more seconds before making her mind up. She sat her things at her table and pulled her jacket off of her arms. She walked over draping it across the younger teacher and then made her way to her table. She positioned her chair toward the door and watched the door. It wasn’t long before the door swung open revealing Janine ready to talk about God knows what, but as soon as her eyes met Melissa’s she closed her mouth. The older woman sent a menacing glare her way before placing her finger up to her lips. Janine, though confused, tip-toed further into the room and took a seat at one of the other tables in the room. By the time everyone was in the room, Melissa had quietly declared that the teacher’s lounge was experiencing a quiet lunch and with her reputation no one questioned her. 

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch and that seemed to be the only thing to rouse Y/n from her sleep. By this point everyone had made their way to their own classrooms and the only two people remaining were Melissa and Y/n. The younger woman groaned as she opened one of her eyes to scan the room. She paused briefly as her senses were overwhelmed with a very familiar fragrance. She looked down seeing the familiar leather jacket draped over her shoulders and felt her cheeks heat at being caught asleep again. Before she could say anything Melissa spoke leaning against the back of the chair next to the couch. 

“Good morning hon,” She spoke, leveling Y/n with a soft look of concern. “I thought we talked about you taking care of yourself?”

“We did, I’ve just been cranking out a lot of papers this week. Had an extra late night last night trying to finish one before the weekend.” Y/n explained placing her feet on the floor and facing the older woman. 

“Well when is it due?” Melissa asked moving to sit on the arm of the chair. 

��Not until Sunday night, but I use my weekends to plan for the week here and catch up on grading.” Y/n explained. 

“And when do you take time for yourself?” Melissa prompted. 

“When I sleep it’s just me and my dreams. So I count those few hours every night as self-care.”

“Haha, very funny hon. You know that actually does not count right? You just slept through lunch. I think we need to think of some new ways to make sure you’re getting things done. Ways don’t include skipping meals and hours of sleep.” 

“I slept through lunch? I slept through Janine’s latest life update and Jacob’s flailing? I really must be tired.” Y/n said, shaking her head before moving to rise from the couch. “And I gotta go get my kids for recess.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. I told Jacob to take them with his kids. And as much as I agree that you are extremely tired, the teacher’s lounge was having a silent lunch today. But I don’t think we can do that every day so we’re gonna have to figure something else out.”

“Jacob is taking my kids to recess?” Y/n asked, looking at the redhead in disbelief. Before Melissa could confirm, Y/n seemed to pick up on something else she said. “Wait, did you just say silent lunch?”

Melissa shook her head in amusement at the fifth grade teacher, “Yes to both. And before you ask how? Think about who you’re talking to.” 

Y/n nodded with red cheeks realizing the redhead had done quite a bit for her during her slumber. “Thanks.” She finally mustered up the courage to say. 

“You’re welcome, I’m glad to help. But I’d be even happier if you’d meet me halfway with this.”

Y/n nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry, I’ve always just been like this and I overestimate how much I can actually handle. I didn’t realize anyone would care so much.”

“Well I do. Listen, how about we find sometime to get you set up with a healthier schedule? I’ll even  make you dinner and everything.” Melissa suggested hopefully. “I’d really like that. I have to be honest,  I didn’t take you for the mentor type of the group.” Y/n said with a shrug unconsciously pulling the older woman’s leather jacket closer to her chest. 

“Oh I’m not. That’s definitely more of a Barb thing, but I have my moments. And my reasons.” Melissa smiled softly at Y/n. 

“Well I appreciate it and I won’t take your help for granted.” 

“Good girl. Now come on, recess is almost over.” 

Y/n’s cheeks heated at the older woman’s words before she nodded and stood to walk out of the door with the woman. Melissa collected her things from the table and grabbed a tupperware container from the fridge and met Y/n at the door. She pushed the food into her hands as she’d been doing for the last couple of weeks and moved to head out of the door. Just as they were about to cross the threshold of the breakroom she extended the jacket toward the woman. “Oh, probably need this back. Thanks.” 

“No problem hon, don’t leave before seeing me. We can find a night sometime soon. Alright?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Y/n saluted before both women parted ways. 

-

“Knock knock. You ready to go?” Barb asked as she leaned against the door frame of Melissa’s classroom. 

“You can go on without me, I’m waiting on Y/n. We’ve gotta figure out when she’s free.” Melissa said casually turning in her desk chair to face her best friend.

“You finally ask her out?” Barb asked with a smirk causing Melissa’s cheeks to heat. 

“What? No? What are you talking about? I’m just gonna help her figure out how to take care of herself a bit better.” Melissa sputtered. 

“Right because you’re so good at that yourself.” Barb rolled her eyes. 

“Hey! I’m pretty good. And you do the same thing with Janine.” Melissa defended.

“Yes, but I don’t want to take Janine to bed. We are not the same Melissa.” 

“Oh would you get out of here before she hears you!”

“You didn’t deny it!” Barbara grinned. 

“Bye Barb.” Melissa groaned. Barbara smiled in victory before sending a wink over to her friend and leaving the building. 

[mikalame]

Tongue twisters

this is just TH x reader doing tongue twisters on an interview hope you like

taglist: @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley @saumspam

"And here ladies and gentleman we have TOKIO HOTEL" the man says, as the band walks in waving at the camera filming them. As the band sits down the interviewer starts to ask questions.

"So how have you like America so far, are you living the american dream here" the man asks his eyebrow cocked, "oh yes it is very nice here, all the american fans are very nice" Bill says clasping his hands together while smiling.

"Oh that's very nice, how about the rest of you is it how you expected" he asks curious to know, the band nods in agreement before ___ decides to speak up. "It is very nice but very loud in the town part of New York, lots of cars and food trucks tho i don't mind the food they make is so good".

Georg and Gustav talk to the interviewer about some of their adventurers in New York so far. The interviewer seemed to pick up on Gustav pronunciation and how he stumbles on the words a bit.

"Gustav may i ask, but you stubble on your English a bit do you have so troubles with it" the man asks, not sure if the question was serious or just genuinely curious Gustav says "oh yeah i am still learning it, big word are hard to wrap my head around and it still takes a while for me to fully understand them" He says looking down a tad bit embarrassed.

"Yeah poor Gustav, he can barely talk to the ladies that do come up to him" Tom chuckles, ___ slaps his arm telling him quietly to cut it out and leave poor Gustav alone. "Well Gustav i don't think you are going to have much fun with the game we organised" the interviewer nods.

"Here i will explain, these cards here have different tongue twisters on them and we guys will have to see who can say them the best and fastest in English" He says a slight chuckle in his voice.

Groans come from Gustav knowing he would probably get out first, "oh Gus you will be fine, your English is not that bad i think bill will get out first"___ says turning to Gustav "Yeah Bills English is terrible, he cant say anything right" Tom nods, Georg agrees. "Oh shut up my English is the best out of everyone's here" Bill says defending himself.

"Okay are you ready for the first one, they will go from easy to hard, okay the first one is Red lorry yellow lorry you need to say this 3x but fast" The first one went by quickly tom stumbling over the yellow lorry bit, Gustav was very happy he didn't get out on the first round.

"Wow that was very good, okay the next one is... She sells sea shells by the sea shore" The man say "Ooo i'm good that his one i know how to say" ___ says excitedly and doing the twister very easily with a smile. In the end Gustav was the one to get it mixed up, he shrugged "i knew this was gonna come up" he say shaking his head as he got out.

"Okay this is the last one this is the hardest one okay The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick, oh god that is hard" The interviewer says stumbling over the words a tad. Bill was the first to say it.

"The sick-no hold up, the sixth sick sheik's sheep sick" Bill says a smile on his face "WRONG" Tom yells you forgot the last sixth. Tom decided to go next to prove to bill that he was better.

"The sixths sick sheep sheiks sixth sick" Tom say proud "WRONG, you completely messed that up" Georg says "No i got it right" "No tom you have seemed to got it wrong" the interviewer says. Tom rolls his eyes. ___ goes next.

"The sixth sheep sick sheik's sixth sick...?" she says a confused "NO! WRONG" tom says still a bit upset how badly he did it. "whatever at least i didn't do it as bad as you" ___ says with a smirk, tom throws a glare at her.

Georg goes next. "The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick" The says confidently.

"WRO-" "CORRECT" the interviewer cuts of tom and congratulates Georg on winning. Georg one a chocolate bar. "If i knew there was chocolate bar involved i would of tried harder" "No tom you did try, you just suck" Gustav speaks up smugly "Yeah says the person who got out first" Tom throws his empty water bottle at Gustav.

"Well this is our time up i hope you 5 enjoyed the interview hope you see you guys back in America" The man says shaking their hands while they walk out "Goodbye" The band says in unison.

"Imagine not having chocolate" Georg says sticking his tongue out "oh shut up Georg its just a silly little chocolate bar" Tom says upsetted.

I do this Georg would be very good at tongue twisters for some reason he just looks like he would be good lol. Hope you enjoyed

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Alto/Wolff

The Others... and a secret

Note in advance: this episode contains a bit more text than in the previous parts. But it was important because it answers a few questions that some of you may have already asked yourself.

Nick went outside with Morgana and closed the bedroom door behind him. Then he took a few steps and leaned against the wall. “Thanks, I probably couldn't have done it on my own"/ ”like I said, it would have been better if I'd been informed earlier that she was expecting a child. Worse things could have happened”.

Nick paused for a moment before continuing. “You lack the means to properly examine the pregnant ladies in the city…"/ ”Mh, that's correct, yes. Above all, I don't have an ultrasound machine, there are so many things that could be detected and ruled out with it…"/ ‘It won't be long before… you'll have one of those machines at your disposal’ / ‘What do you mean?’/ ‘I've requested one’. Morgana was shocked and curious. “But where, by whom?"/…

“From people out there somewhere. I asked them for it. “/ “What… What kind of people are they?”/ “Hh… Some who have had me firmly in their grip for months. And it's up to me that… That nothing has happened here so far"/ ‘Mr. Alto…’/ ‘I value you as a very loyal person, Dr. Wolff, not just as a doctor’.

Morgana looked at him skeptically “You want to confide something in me and I'm not allowed to tell anyone, am I right?”/ “Yes, not yet. I'll talk to the people here soon, when I've got the hardest part over with"/ ‘and that would be?’. He looked at her seriously with tired eyes “Is there something you're particularly attached to, Dr.? What's the most important thing in your life?”/ “A few things. My own life, my husband, my child… My friends”.

“That's quite a lot. For me, it's been money for as long as I can remember. I learned early on how to get it, how to invest it wisely and how to spend it wisely. But money… It's also a tool you can use to manipulate people. Now I'm the one being manipulated. I have a lot of assets, it's not small. And that has gotten through to these people”

Morgana tried to follow and understand what Nick was telling her. “So… they want your money?"/ ‘All the valuables I own…’/ ‘And why don't you give them what they want?’. He took a deep breath. “Would you just give away something you've worked so hard for all your life?”. Morgana's voice became a little louder, as she seemed to understand what this was all about. “honestly, what do you have to lose except your money?"/ ‘hh… I know what you're getting at, Dr. Wolff’.

“You probably think now, just like my wife, that I'm stubborn. Yes, I am. But they also said that if I've given them everything, we won't get any more help from them…"/ ”What help have we had so far? We haven't seen any of it…”. Nick found it increasingly difficult to speak as his conscience began to torment him, “We were selfish, I…”. Her voice became more insistent. “Now tell me!"/ ‘They provided us with food and we weren't supposed to give any of it away’/ ”What…why?”

“Because there are other sick minds sitting there who want to know… how long the people here can get by without help and food now. So… Not only do they want all my assets, they also treat the people here like guinea pigs. When that meteor storm came and destroyed everything. That was just the right opportunity for them to test how humans cope in extreme situations…"/ ”Please what? I'm… Completely confused, excuse me”. Morgana had to sit down.

“They just wanted to leave us here to our fate? And you're going along with it, Mr.Alto?”. Nick couldn't look her in the eye. “They said if I lifted a finger, they'd stop supplying us"/ ”What supply? We…"/ ”For me, my family. As I said, the whole thing was an experiment”. Morgana was stunned. „And , how do they know what's going on here? Are there cameras here?”. He shook his head. “No, we should only ever observe and report. Gerhard and Nancy…"/ ”They should be spying on us, am I right? My God, that's really sick!”.

Morgana had to process the whole thing first. She was angry, surprised, many feelings overwhelmed her . “How… How did this contact even come about, Mr. Alto? How…”. Morgana hadn't really paid attention to it at first, because she had been looking after Vita the whole time. But she remembered this device in the bedroom. “Is that a Transmitter? Where did…”. Nick collected his thoughts again and tried to explain everything to her in detail. “The day before it all happened… I took it from the town hall because I wanted to do some restoration work on it. Actually, it was just an exhibit.”

“Now I remember, it was there in a bigger glass case in the foyer". He nodded. ”actually, it belonged in a museum long ago. Be that as it may. After the initial shock of the impacts was somewhat digested and we realized that the internet was down, I came up with the idea of getting the thing operational. Unfortunately, I just didn't know how to find a frequency. And then… they found me”.

Morgana had many questions running through her mind. “How did they contact you through this device? How did they know which frequency to select? How…"/ ”Believe me, I've often asked myself these questions too. Someone seems to have known that I have one of these devices. I just wonder who the hell it is. Maybe someone from here?"/ ‘That's nonsense!’.

Nick stood up and took a few steps across the room. “Why nonsense, Dr.?"/ ”Well, first of all, I don't think anyone else here has such a device except you. And I'd put my hand in the fire for every single person here. Who would come up with something like that? I would never voluntarily put my friends, my family or anyone else in the city I live in at risk. Do you understand?”.

Nick took a deep breath and exhaled. “I'm sure you're right, who would put up with such macabre nonsense here?"/ ‘You said… you get deliveries, right?’/ ‘Yes, food and other things for everyday use.’/ ‘Where do these deliveries come from?’/ „Where? I don't know, but definitely across the sea. There's a landing stage somewhere far away. The things were unloaded there and we pick them up by arrangement.”

“By arrangement… Does that mean they were never there when a delivery came?"/ ”No. We never knew when they were going to deliver to us. We were only informed by radio when the delivery arrived and we could pick it up. But apart from the goods, there was no one to be seen there, the ship was usually gone by then”. Morgana put her hands to her head. There was just so much information she had to deal with. “hh, my goodness… My head is spinning and I… I have to get back to my child”.

“Dr. Wolff…"/ ”If I've understood all this correctly, it's up to you whether we survive or perish here. I don't know how long I can carry this secret around with me now. You should talk to the people here urgently. Otherwise… I will do it” / ‘I'll do it, I promise you, as soon as…’ / ”You'd better not promise anything. Good night, Mr. Alto!”. Morgana picked up her things and made her way home.

After Morgana had left the house, Nick stood in front of the closed front door for a moment. And as he said, he had already made his decision. But he still didn't know how to deal with the consequences. He shook off his thoughts for the rest of the evening and went into the bedroom. “ssh, don't cry, o.k., I just wanted to take a closer look at you. Come here… My son”..

Nick could hear his wife snoring softly. She was still very exhausted from the birth, which had dragged on for almost a whole day. “So we haven't thought of a name yet, have we? I have a cousin, Alfonso, but we're no longer in contact. I would like that, Alfonso…Alfi, hnhn”. As he looked at his son, a few tears welled up in his eyes. Yes, as Cy once said, a little one like that changes something in you. “We'll find a solution, Alfi… Somehow”.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of this part

@greenplumbboblover😊

poses by @poses-by-bee & @inkwisteria

[jenosonlywife23]

Debut Day Dreams (Part 5 – A Love in the Spotlight)

The days following his public confession were a whirlwind. Your life had been thrown into chaos before, but now it felt like you were living in a constant state of adrenaline, walking a tightrope between gratitude and anxiety.

He called you every day, sometimes multiple times, to check on you. Despite the backlash, he seemed lighter, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For him, the secrecy had been the hardest part.

For you, the hardest part was just beginning.

Day 1: The Fallout

The initial wave of fan reactions was overwhelming. While many supported him, others were less forgiving. You avoided social media altogether, knowing the comments would be a minefield of speculation and vitriol.

But even without looking, you felt the effects. Your phone buzzed with messages from friends and acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in years, some curious, others judgmental. Your name was trending alongside his, and every move you made felt scrutinized.

“Ignore them,” he told you during one of your late-night calls. His voice was steady, reassuring. “They don’t know you like I do.”

“Maybe they’re right,” you said quietly. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“Stop,” he said firmly. “You’re stronger than you think. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what they say.”

His confidence in you was comforting, but it didn’t erase the gnawing fear that you were way out of your depth.

Week 2: Adjusting to the Spotlight

By the second week, the initial frenzy had died down, but the attention was still there. Tabloids published speculative articles about your relationship, dissecting every detail of your life. Some fans became detectives, digging up old photos and posts, trying to piece together a timeline of how you’d met.

One particularly popular post claimed to have found “proof” that you’d been following him on social media long before the concert. The implication stung—that you were some sort of stalker or opportunist.

When you told him about it, he laughed. “If only they knew how nervous I was to talk to you that day,” he said. “They’d never believe it.”

But the narrative still hurt, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were constantly being judged.

“Maybe we should take a step back,” you suggested one evening, your voice hesitant. “Give people time to cool off.”

His response was immediate. “No. If we do that, they’ll think we’re ashamed or hiding something. I don’t want to hide you anymore.”

The conviction in his voice was unwavering, and though it didn’t erase your doubts, it gave you strength.

Month 1: The First Public Appearance

The first time you went out together in public, you felt like you were walking into a lion’s den. Cameras flashed the moment you stepped outside, and a crowd of fans had already gathered, their phones raised like shields.

He stayed close to you, his hand brushing against yours as you walked. Though he didn’t hold your hand outright, the gesture was enough to ground you.

“Smile,” he whispered as you entered the restaurant, his lips twitching into a small grin. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I feel like I might,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

But by the end of the night, you realized he’d been right to face the public head-on. While the photographers and fans outside were overwhelming, the moment you were inside, it felt like the world quieted. It was just the two of you again, sharing a meal and laughing about the absurdity of it all.

When you left the restaurant, he did take your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as cameras clicked furiously. “Let them see,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We’re not hiding anymore.”

The photos from that night went viral, sparking a fresh wave of debates online. But this time, you didn’t care as much. Because when you looked at the pictures, all you saw was him, smiling at you like you were the only person in the world.

Month 3: The Scandal’s Aftermath

Three months in, the frenzy had finally begun to fade. The fans who supported him had grown louder, drowning out much of the negativity. You still faced occasional hostility, but it was easier to ignore now.

He was busier than ever, juggling promotions, concerts, and interviews, but he always made time for you. Whether it was a quick text during a break or a call late at night, he made sure you never felt forgotten.

One night, as you lay on the couch together, his head resting in your lap, he looked up at you with a soft smile.

“You know,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, “I used to think love was a distraction. Something that would get in the way of everything I worked for.”

“And now?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

“Now I think it’s the reason I’m able to do it all,” he said. “You give me something to come home to.”

His words made your heart ache in the best way, and for the first time since the scandal broke, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The New Normal

Life with him wasn’t always easy, but it was worth it. You learned to navigate the spotlight together, finding moments of normalcy in the chaos. Sometimes it was as simple as watching a movie on the couch or cooking dinner together. Other times, it was sneaking away to a quiet beach or a hidden hiking trail, where you could just be yourselves.

And through it all, he never wavered.

When a fan commented during a live broadcast, asking if he was happy, his answer was simple and immediate. “Happier than I’ve ever been,” he said, his eyes glinting with a smile that was just for you.

For the first time in months, you believed it. You were happy, too.

[starryriize]

Hey Queen! Since you like and know stuff about F1 : I'd like to request your opinion on how &Team would be as a racer.

Which sponsor would they have? What kinda outfit would they wear? What would their racing style be like?

P.s. : feel free to include pictures we love men in racingsuits.🙏🏻

how &team would be as… | F1 drivers

〔 author’s note 〕 oh my god. racers…yes. this…yes. this ask actually helped me get my motivation to write up and running :(( pls nonnie ilysm <3

(lowercase intended)

〔laur’s taglist 🏷️〕 @kehnarii @lunicho @rizzkisworld @cherrycolaberry @hyvelxve

fuma - aston martin

i feel like he’d fit so well in formula one. he strikes me as the more experienced driver who teaches the rookies how it’s done. he’d be an aggressive, competitive yet clean racer. you’d never see him deliberately force people off the track, but he’d definitely switch up his speed in order to get first place.

he’d wear typical aston martin race suits but would switch up to his regular style when he enters the paddock for media appearances! very classy style~ i think he’d have a style similar to ej with a “boyfriend” look!

kei - mclaren

i am definitely not being biased when i say that mclaren lowkey has fast cars…anyways i could 100% see him in mclaren. i feel like he’s a bit on the “daredevil” side when racing because he tends to race according to his instincts. he gets competitive when overtaking and curses at drivers who don’t know what they’re doing. i mean…you can’t expect racers to be sunshine and rainbows with each other all the time!

he said usually enters the paddock with his buddy, fuma. even their managers are good friends! they have quite contrasting styles as to what they wear besides the racing suits. kei is more playful and expressive in his appearance. he can be seen in bright colors, patterns, etc. overall, he’s incredibly eye-catching hence why the cameras pan towards him instantly.

ej - mercedes

ej radiates class as a racing driver so it’s obvious he’d be part of mercedes. now mercedes isn’t doing that well this season, so best believe he’s making complaints to the chief engineer. it’s all in good faith that his team can improve, but he knows he’s not going to be in the podium anytime soon.

despite this sad outlook, he does race his hardest against aston martin and pushes the car to its limits. when he enters the paddock, he has a typical “boyfriend” style that includes backwards caps. of course, when he does mercedes events, he’s dressed in a full suit.

nico - red bull

anyone who says that nico isn’t redbull is lying. i mean…the recklessness and the killer instinct is 100% there. he’s so intentional about his racing lines and he separates personal life from his work life. red bull is known for having drivers willing to go above and beyond for the podium and for their team.

his typical style is something you’d see on the runway. the world is practically his runway and it’s obvious in the way he carries himself with the kind of confidence you’d see in movies! most drivers always say they wish they had nico’s fashion sense too!

yuma - ferrari

“you have to be devilishly handsome to be in ferrari” and yuma takes his seriously. he’s a reckless driver, willing to do whatever it takes to get on the podium. does it seem cold? heartless? possibly. but does he get results? hell yes. his driving style is ruthless. he pushes the car to its breaking point and then asks the engineer to improve the speed. he knows when the car is not performing as it should on the straight.

people underestimate him because they think he’s just a pretty face so he loves proving people wrong by getting win after win. when he comes into the paddock, he’s decked out in full “typical celebrity crush” style~

jo - mclaren

jo drives for mclaren because he loves the sport and knows it’s not the car that matters but the driver. he’s been practicing and perfecting his skills just for this moment. his favorite race is the Suzuka circuit because it’s inspiring for him to see all his fans and family at his home race. he doesn’t drive for the fame or the money, rather he drives for himself. it’s more about proving to the world that he’s more than capable of being an f1 champion.

i feel like his outfits would be street style/chic mix because he has the proportions of a model. due to his height, he doesn’t need to do much to stand out (it’s a bonus with his striking visuals)! he can pull off virtually any color scheme so he likes to switch it up and wear outfits to match the vibe of the country he’s in.

taki - ferrari

anyone who can’t see taki at ferrari is probably lying because he fits it perfectly. he has that raw talent to be able to adapt to anything the race brings. bad weather? he’s already asking to switch tires. race restart? he’s already planning who to overtake after the safety car lap. he has that motivation to win at all costs.

i think taki’s style would be similar to nico only because i feel like he looks up to nico, especially when it comes to having fashion sense. he’d look so good in his classic red race suit but when he changes to what he wears in between the race weeks, he’s so much more attractive. he pulls off the “bad boy/leather jacket” style so well!

harua - aston martin

the class? the elegance? the iconic legacy of aston? it’s perfect for harua. i think he’s a careful, calculating driver. he knows how competitive it is but he knows not to be rough on the track. he knows exactly where to best utilize the car’s speed and power which gives him an advantage to overtake drivers who are falling behind.

i feel like him and maki have a cute, out-of-the-box style that leaves everyone speechless. more often than not, he has a seemingly simple outfit, but he adds his personality to it! whether it’s an accessory or it’s the layering of the clothes, everyone loves harua! at events, he’d be more dressed up with a classic black suit, perhaps channeling his inner james bond.

maki - red bull

now you can tell me all you like how he should be on a german team but hear me out: he’s perfect for red bull! i think he’d be a big inspiration to little boys in both Japan and Germany. his racing style is unique in the way he’s patient. he’s competitive but he thinks logically about his next move.

as i said above, i think his style would be similar to harua’s. they’re both creative, but i feel like he’d lean more towards a soft palette. i could see him having a style where he always looks as though he’s going on a date after the race!

pics for reference:

[theinternetcafe]

Drifting Home Review

Drifting away is an animated film about the 7 stages of grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Guilt, Upward turn, Reconstruction, and Acceptance.

At the start of the movie Natsume is in the first stage of denial when she frequently visits the abandoned apartments even though they are due to be destroyed soon, she doesn't want to let go of her precious memories that she made there as a kid.

Kousuke however is in stage two, anger. He blames Natsume for taking him away from his grandfathers final moments and possibly his death since his grandfathers dying words were for him to apologize to her. He also gets angry at her for almost everything she does, especially keeping everything to herself and never asking for help.

the reason she never asks for help is due to the constant fighting of her parents that eventually lead to them splitting up and Natsume being taken in by Kousuke's grandfather.

"No matter how much I cried nothing would change and everything would break apart" Natsume.

Hense she begins to act like an adult in hopes to not have to lose anyone else.

The third stage begins when they get transported to the endless sea, no matter how long they wait Natsume remains confident that they'll return home despite the growing concern on her face as time pass by. It's also somewhat symbolized by the fact she keeps certain items from the old home like the camera for Kousuke and the stuffed toy that Yasuji bought her, refusing to part with either item.

The fourth stage remains throughout most of the movie and is mixed in with guilt as Natsume constantly blames herself for all the misfortune that happens, from her parents breakup to Kousuke's grandfather passing away to them being stranded in the middle of an open sea, even though she had no control over any of those situations.

And I'm sure a lot of people can relate to that, if something goes wrong you believe it was because of you and then you begin to take the blame for things that may not have had anything to do with you.

Depression is also the hardest stage to come out of which is shown by how long it takes until they return home.

Upward turn is mainly shown with Noppo when he finally realizes that in order to get them home he has to face the fact that they have to move on without him. Which ironically in the movie, when he realizes this the building takes an upward turn out of the sea.

reconstruction is visually shown after the buildings were knocked down and a new one began construction. In the metaphorical sense it happens whenever Kousuke and Natsume argue and finally confess their frustrations and reasonings for everything that happened after Kousuke's grandfather passed away, each time they tear down the broken past a new path into the future or their friendship is constructed.

The final stage acceptance is shown when Natsume says goodbye to Noppo before they leave, accepting that you have to lose people in order to move on forward and it's not always a sad moment as she is seen smiling while they all wave goodbye.

To me the film isn't a particularly sad one, it touching on something that everyone has to accept when growing up.

At first I thought the endless sea was similar to the land of the dead commonly shown in Hispanic culture but realized it's possible a place of it's own somewhere in between the afterlife and the human world. As they leave the flooding apartments and see an image of their parents waiting for them we know that they can return back to normal, but when Kousuke sees Natsume's mom he realizes that she wont be there with them if they do return, this is proven when he turns to face the opposite direction and sees her disappearing into the black sand.

The endless sea itself acts as sort of an outlet of emotions. At the start it's calm but every time they talk about Yasuji's passing or Natsume's parents leaving her behind the sea begins to get more violent.

Noppo was possibly created when the first group of residents came into the apartment and someone grew an attachment to the building, in the Japanese Shinto beliefs around notions of animism it is said that a soul “reikon” lives within all existence (everyday objects). So I assume just like Natsume, someone had a strong attachment to the building which gave him a spirit or perhaps when the building was finally constructed his soul came to be, this is shown throughout all the other buildings as well (public pool, store, ferris wheel).

The final things being the black sand. I believe the sand is just a void, it consumes anything that is either left behind, forgotten or broken beyond compare. If Noppo had stayed in a state of denial and refused to accept the fact that he had to let them go they would've all fallen into a void of depression which I feel is what the sand represents.

[rui-drawsbox]

Hi its me again (the one who had the nazuna idea) and I kinda wanted to build on it, I'd it's ok with you.

I think in the season finale when Knights and Shu have one last battle the Knights start losing really badly, maybe due to new models of the dolls? But in the end when it seems that it might be over for the Knights, Mika (who wasn't present for the first part of the battle) shows up to the fight and yells, very confidently something like "I BROUGHT HELP" and it's Nazuna, in his old Valkyrie outfit and whatever weapon he has, and he uses smth like healing magic on the Knights and starts helping them defeat Shu.

I think he would also be one of those side characters that show up every episode being really creepy and watching the Knights (they don't notice ofc) but he starts showing up more when Mika starts his redemption, like in the background comforting him or smth. I think he'd even drop little clues around for the Knights to realise who Shu and Mika were.

I also kind of wanted to talk about the Knights getting their powers, but if you already have an idea then that's great!

I think there was another posts detailing what would happen in the first and second episodes, but I think that much like other precure shows (my main reference is glitter force) for the first 5-6 episodes it's each of the main cast getting their powers. So Arashi gets hers from the cat first, right?

I think Arashi's cat should show up each episode to give one of the gang the brush, eventually giving one to Mika too maybe.

First Leo and Ritsu get theirs, for obvious reasons and being present for the first battle.

Then I think Tsukasa would be next, he's pretty skeptical about it at first but after witnessing them fighting he decides to confront them and join the gang properly.

Then it's Izumi, much like other magical girl shows the last character is hardest to get involved. I think he would have the situation explained to him but still refuse bc he's busy (maybe he didn't want to potentially endanger people like Makoto or thinks he's not "good" enough for the magical Knights. It takes a lot of convincing but they get there eventually.

Also consider: Shu calling in Double Face to take care of the Knights for like an episode or two after Mika leaves (but that may contradict some stuff, it's not like all the antagonists need to be magical, the may just detective their way through it)

Ty for listening to my ramble, you're genuinely a genius, 7 school subjects be damned

hiii! hellooo!! wb nazunanon (they're referring to this post where we discussed about Nazuna in the Au for the first time btw!)

also i belive an epic battle like that would be a perfect finale for the series, yet, i fail to see Nazuna actually fighting? like, mabye he can be the ultimate support or smth--

More like he and Mika were built (or trained, idk what they are at this point) to fight as a duo, Mika fighting always in the front and Nazuna supporting behind/making long distance attacks to overwhelm the enemy on every possible way

im thinking about hsr class system ngl, smtsmth Nazuna being harmony/nihility smthsmth Mika being the hunt smthsmth Arashi as destruction bc is very versatile... and Izumi/hunt, Leo/erudition, Tsukasa/preservation and Ritsu and Shu as nihility...

now forgive me but when you said "side characters that show up every episode being really creepy" i couldnt help but think about this creepy guy from spiderverse that is always looking right at the camera

is rlly funny but yeah i get your point, it would be like that one side character that suddenly gets the spotlight in the series and when you look back it is a "i was always there" situation (and watchers would go wow they had it prepared from the start!)

also i belive you got the order for each knight perfectly! Leo would be so excited to get his powers and be able to help his friends and Ritsu would probably be "sounds like a pain but i'll do it for Nacchan" (ooc here idk him a lot) + Tsukasa and Izumi being the last ones to get their powers sounds so canon for some reason, its TokyoMewMew speaking in the back of my mind i think

NOW are you telling me that there's a possibility of magical cowboy mama...?

jk(unless) if double face is involved in some way i would think about them being a "detective club" where Shu goes as a desperate move after losing Mika, instead of magical minions/boys. Still, mabye there's a chance of a spinoff for every unit in enstars and how they become magical girls lol (imagine magical Akatsuki lmao)

now yeah, thats all my ramblings for today! this really got me thinking about Nazuna's weapon lol, i really can't think of anything that fits exvalkyrie aesthetic while being functional and meaningful,,,,, do you think healing powers are too op? i feel like it would be a little unfair,,,,

[joshduhamelsource]

If you look back on your first acting role, how would you describe your growth and evolution as an actor?: “I think for the longest time I didn’t feel like I belonged. I felt like I was fooling everybody, like I was some kind of a fraud. Like “I’m not really an actor, what am I doing here”? And I never felt like I was part of this community in Hollywood or in this town. It took me until the last few years until I really started feeling I do belong here and I do have something to say and I have something to offer. And I’m a valuable asset to have on the set, not just for the acting, but I really am a collaborative, good team player on the set. And I trusted myself. 

I think when I directed my first film, that was really when I felt like I finally belonged because I truly understood every aspect of the business at that point. From the financing to the writing to the physical production, to editing, to marketing, to casting, art direction, I had my hands on all of it. So that was like a big feather in my cap, because then I felt like I do belong here because I was able to pull this off and that was the hardest thing I’d ever done in the business. I think that was a big sort of confidence builder for me. And as a result, I think that helps your acting when you understand all aspects. When you’re in front and behind the camera, you know what the directors are looking for, what editors are looking for, what the marketing departments are looking for. So that was a big learning experience for me. And I think it really helped me become a more comfortable actor.“

[andiesguidetotestprep]

How I Prepare for a Test

Hi, my name is Andie and my goal is to help average students get into their dream colleges by becoming excellent test takers.

Preparing for an exam is hard, especially when you have really only done enough so far to submit assignments worry-free of getting a 0. Maybe you're averaging 80's and 90's with a few 70's sprinkled in there. Or maybe you're averaging 70's and 80's with a few 90's sprinkled in there. No matter which group you fall into, if you're going to be ready by exam day and score higher than you've averaged so far on class assignments, you're going to need to prepare.

Preparation comes down to doing the work repeatedly with quality feedback. If you're in a math class and you find yourself struggling to complete the homework each night, you've probably been tempted to use Symbolab or Mathway to do your calculations for you. Or, maybe you're in an English class and you've really been struggling to improve your writing and you've been tempted a time or two to let ChatGPT do its thing.

If this is you, that's okay. That was me too. Now, I'm not going to tell you what you should be doing (or shouldn't) that's for you to decide. I'm just going to tell you what's been working for me to improve my understanding and scores in class.

Step One:

Make a plan of action. This is the easy part because there is so much information out there that can tell you how to build the best study plan for your personality/situation/zodiac. I'm going to give you a quick overview for how I built my study plan, but if you're interested in learning more (in depth) on how to build an exam ready study plan, drop a comment below or send me an ask to let me know you're interested.

The way I used to build my study plan was by identifying what I knew I didn't know, how much time I had to learn it, and how much of it was bound to be on the exam. After I figured out as much as I could about those factors, then I made a timetable for what to practice each day. Following that, I went online and put together a bunch of practice problems and tried to do as many of them as possible.

This sounds great in theory, but it's a lot of unnecessary work that doesn't necessarily lead to the result you want. For one, it's hard to gauge how many questions of one topic will be on an exam. Even if your teacher points out a particular topic or chapter as important, it doesn't mean it will be all over your exam. One time, I was studying for a calculus exam and spent so much time reviewing improper integrals because I wasn't too confident on the topic and our teacher had mentioned in class that it was one of the more important chapters know. So, I went online and found a bunch of improper integral questions to practice. When it came time for the exam, there ended up being only one question on the exam related to improper integrals!

And, to add insult to injury, after the exam he mentioned offhandedly in class that all of our exam questions were taken directly from our homework. Those little facts changed how I decided to approach studying moving forward.

Now, I focus on the homework problems, extra practice worksheet problems, and study guide problems my teacher gives us. And the way I plan to study is by deciding how much time each day I'm going to work on those practice problems.

Step Two:

Find a way to stay accountable. I found a fun way to do this was by creating a study stream. For a while, every time I needed to study, I would stream the session on youtube. I made sure my camera could capture my computer screen, notebook, and me. Then, I placed my phone across the room (or you can record using your phone) and that keeps you from using your phone.

Step Three:

Get in the reps (repetition). The last part is notably the hardest part because you just have to do the difficult and sometimes mundane work. I use the practice questions I gathered in step one, set up my accountability system from step two, and get to work! Setting yourself a timer is a great reminder that this will eventually come to an end, and always helped motivate me to stay focused. Also, I found that starting as early in the day as possible (for me it was around 6 am) worked best, because I could do it before my day truly began.

If you're using this to help figure out how you can prepare for your upcoming exam, I hope you found value in this article. If you did, please like it and share with a friend! And, I would love to hear what topics you would like for me to cover next!

Good Luck,

Andie