#how can they change THIS out of all the changes they decided to do

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[harmonyrae]

Merging Territories

Synopsis: You just need a little more time with him, you don’t want him to go. Sylus once said actions are more sincere. It’s time to act, no more games.

AN: This is my interpretation of Sylus’s Night of Secrecy memory.

Content Warnings: Fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, praise kink, implied unprotected sex, PiV, squirting, cream pie, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.6k

“I won.”

You couldn’t hide your smirk as you slid the final part into place on the gun. You shift on the carpet and turn to face Sylus, pressing the muzzle under Sylus’s chin. His eyes narrow and raises his hands in defeat. He lets out a breathy chuckle, tilting his chin to look at you.

“And I lost. Go ahead. Ask your question.”

You’re suddenly aware of how warm the room is. The fireplace crackles and pops, providing the only light in the large sitting room. Sylus’s features are shrouded in shadow, his skin looks warm and soft. You weren’t exactly sure what you wanted to do, you just wanted to spend more time with him. You weren’t ready for him to go. Just a little more time. 

As you stare into Sylus’s eyes, you feel your stomach tighten. You decided to trust your instincts, not entirely sure if it was a good idea or not. You lower the gun, check the safety is on and place it on the floor before locking eyes with him again.

“I’m sleepy.”

“Uh…”

His confusion mirrors your own. You felt your cheeks burn and you hope he can’t tell in the low lighting. The past few months have flown by, you remember meeting Sylus and how much you initially hated him. But over time, you’d seen a side of him that made your heart pound and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You knew what you wanted. Sylus’s words echo in your mind.

I believe sincerity is not having to beat around the bush or play any games.

You had played your game and now, you felt guilty. You swallow your anxiety and square your shoulders.

“Can you… tuck me in?”

Sylus raises a brow and leans forward. His eyes scan your face, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“I thought a certain relentless hunter would ask about my destination.”

You cross your arms and pout dramatically.

“I care more about the present than an answer I can’t get. So… Are you doing it or not?”

“Of course, kitten.”

That damn smirk is back and you can’t stop staring at his mouth. He stands before leaning down to pick you up. You wrap your arms around his neck as he tucks an arm under your legs. He swiftly picks up your heels, which were discarded next to the couch. He looks down at you as he makes his way out of the sitting room and towards the stairs.

“This request is way more powerful than that little gun.”

You feel your heart pounding in your chest, your brain feels fuzzy. You try to keep your hands still and not give in to the temptation to drag your hand down his exposed chest. He had undone his tie and unbuttoned his shirt shortly after getting home, intending to change but you challenged him to your little game. It was like you were being punished for messing with him. He had just sat there, his torso on display for you. 

You kept your eyes on his face, trying to ignore the delicious firmness of his abdomen against your hip. He looks down at you, his eyes look… gentle? The smirk from downstairs was gone, replaced with a soft smile. You hear a clatter and glance over his shoulder to see your shoes discarded on the floor. His arm circling around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

He enters the bedroom and strides to the couch next to the window. The snow was building up rather quickly, a thin sheet of white covering the lawn outside. He stops at the couch and waits for you to let go so he can set you down. But that all too familiar twinge of panic settles over you, keep him close.  “If you don’t want to lie down, I can keep holding you until I leave.”

Another memory flashes in your mind. The small yurt in the grasslands, the bed you shared with him, his strong arms wrapped around you keeping you warm.

Sincerity really is the best.

“What if I don’t want you to leave…?”

Sylus holds your gaze. You move your hand slowly and rest your palm against the side of his neck. His heart beat is rapid and his skin feels warmer than before.

“Then.. we better make the most of our time before dawn.”

He leans down, forcing you to set your feet on the floor. He stands before you, you barely realize your hand is still resting on his chest. God, you want this. You don’t want to lose your nerve.

You push him down onto the couch, he grunts, a brief expression of surprise gracing his face. You settle your knee between his legs. You press your hand against his chest again, your fingers itching to explore. He tilts his head forward and looks at you, his eyes urging you to continue. 

Actions do speak louder than words. And more sincere.

He’s right. You’ve tried to find the right words for the past three days and they always get lost between your brain and your mouth. It’s time to stop thinking so damn much. 

You caress his face, slipping your hand behind his neck. His reaction to your touch tells you everything you need to know. His shaky breath and the corner of his mouth curling upwards - his excitement palpable. You pull him to you and the moment your lips touch, your mind clears. His kiss is exactly like you imagined it to be. The kiss is needy and rapid, he moves like he is intoxicated. You wrap your arm around his neck, feeling his chest graze yours sets your skin ablaze again.

You bring your other knee down and straddle his leg, inching yourself closer to him. He places a hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you to him. Your bodies collide, your knee finally presses against his groin and your breath catches. He was so fucking hard. His hand trails up to your ass and he holds you close.

He pulls back for only a moment, his breathing unsteady and his eyes hazy. 

“You really don’t want me to leave?”

He leans forward once again to capture your lips. His hands start to explore your back, his fingers sending chills over your exposed skin. You roll your hips, desperate for more. He moans into your mouth, his tongue finally tracing your lips requesting entrance - you immediately oblige. His hands drift down to your waist and he lifts you, allowing you to shift and properly straddle him. 

You hold his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself, but your thighs are already burning and you just want to sit down. But if you do that, he will undoubtedly feel how wet you are. Your panties soaked and your lace shorts wouldn’t serve as much of a barrier. You needed to change positions, you wanted to feel his body on top of you. You mumble into his mouth, your words lost amongst the messy kisses. Sylus opens his eyes and meets yours.

“Sylus, over there…”

Your head tilts towards the bed. He tucks his hands under your ass and lifts you up, your legs wrapping around him in an instant. His leg hits the bed and he sinks his knee into the mattress, slowly lowering you down onto your back, his lips never leaving yours.

As you settle on the bed, he pulls back to look at you. His cheeks flushed and his lips puffy. You reach up to lock your fingers behind his neck to pull him down. He holds back and that smug smile returns. His fingers caress your cheek and for a moment it’s like you are meeting him for the first time. But instead of cowering, you are holding on for dear life, never wanting to let go.

“Looks like we’re on the same page when it comes to not wanting to waste time.”

You try to control your breathing, but staring at him doesn’t help. You try to look away, but his hand catches your chin. He takes hold of your face, keeping you in place. 

“Stay focused, kitten.”

He covers your eyes with his other hand. 

“Don’t look.”

With your eyes covered, your other senses buzz to life. He starts kissing you again, his open mouth kisses leaving you even more breathless. He lets his tongue dip out and trace your lips before placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You finally allow yourself to moan, softly at first to test the waters. You feel his hips lower and he grinds against you. His response was more than you could have hoped for. Just the thought of him being so turned on by the sounds you make is almost enough to send you over the edge. 

All you can hear are your combined breathy moans and the pounding of your heart in your ears. He glides his hand down your arm and threads his fingers with yours. His thumb gently rubbing your palm.

When he finally removes his hand from over your eyes, you want to giggle at his love drunk expression. You’re not even sure he can still see you through the haze. You reach up and touch his cheek, his warmth seeping into your fingertips.

“Am I being too greedy… if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me?”

As you pull away, he grabs your hand. 

“You always had that right.”

He places a chaste kiss on your wrist.

“Which means…”

He leans down and places kisses along your neck and collarbone. You feel his lips drag across your skin and you clench your fists, grabbing a fistful of the comforter beneath you. Your moans are much louder now. His lips are so soft, and every time they make contact you feel your clit throb.

“You can be even greedier.”

He hovers just over your breast, he lets his lips press down gently, kissing your nipple through your top. You feel a burst of pleasure. You wanted nothing more than for his lips to explore every inch of your body.

He rises, reaching down to lift your leg beside him. His hand strokes your thigh before he bends to place a kiss on your knee. When his eyes meet yours again, the intensity behind his gaze overwhelms your senses.

“Do you want it, kitten?”

You take a moment and let your eyes roam. His silver necklace dangles from his neck, sweat has started to drip down his chest, his abs look tight - like he is tensing, awaiting your answer. And then you see how his pants have become much too tight, his erection threatening to break through the confines at any moment. There was only one answer to his question and you didn’t have to think.

“Yes.”

His smile vanishes as he leans in, hungry for more. The answer is yes, but you didn’t want him to think you could be tossed around like a ragdoll. Well, you wouldn’t mind that, but you didn’t want to feel powerless. You know what you like and what you want him to do to you. And what you want to do to him. 

You reach your hand up and place it firmly against his chest stopping him in his tracks. He grunts, his brows knit together and his eyes light up with panic. He regains his composure and  slowly lowers his hand under your knee, pulling you downwards. You feel your tits bounce at the sudden movement. 

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” 

He bends your knee once more, bringing your thigh up to his mouth. He kisses your inner thigh right by your knee. The thought of his kisses trailing down your thigh until he sinks his face into your soaked pussy…

“You just said ‘yes’?” 

His voice is needy and broken with his gasps for air.

“I’m hoping yes is still your answer because…”

He releases your thigh and slowly lowers himself on top of you. Your thighs spread open and he presses his erection against your center. He lowers to his elbows, tucks a hand under your waist and holds your face with the other.

“I just can’t hold back anymore.”

He traces your lips with his thumb before diving back in. His kisses seem more desperate now, he doesn’t wait for either of you to catch your breath. He nips at your lower lip and his intensity grows with every shift of your hips or moan echoing from your throat.

You start to feel dizzy. And not the fun kind of dizzy, the “I might pass out” kind.

“Sylus… I can’t breathe…”

You finally push Sylus away and try to catch your breath. You feel a strand of hair fall against your forehead, you try to blow it away, but it stays put. Sylus brushes it aside, tucking it behind your ear. 

He holds your chin, forcing you to look at him. He looks down at you and, while you’re completely clothed, you feel exposed. He can feel your body shiver, your nipples hard and needy beneath your blouse. He’s reading you like a book. He nuzzles his face into your neck. He sinks his teeth into the tender flesh above your collarbone. He’s fucking biting you. And god, it felt incredible. You can’t suppress a moan, but quickly clear your throat and try to be angry. 

“Hey, no biting here.”

He sighs.

“First you want it rough, now you want it soft… You’re a tough one to please tonight, kitten.”

He slides a hand behind your neck and soothes the sensitive skin with tender kisses. He pulls back, lifting his chest away from yours and looks down at you, his eyes glowing in the dim light.

“What do you really want? Won’t you be honest and tell me like you just did?”

You let your hands glide down his chest, digging your nails in as you pass over his nipples and down to his abs. You feel him shudder, here’s your chance.

“... I’m not falling for your tricks.”

You push his shoulder hard, he tips and you hook your leg, rolling him over. The change in positions allows you to finally take a deep breath. You plant your hands on his chest as you take in his shocked expression. You rarely catch him off guard, it’s a treat really. 

“I told you that a hunter doesn’t like being passive.”

His eyes narrow and he nods slowly. His hands wrap around your waist and he traces the zipper of your top. He tugs gently at the zipper tab, just enough to send the message.

“So, you want control.” His voice was raspy and so damn sexy.

Your new position was supposed to help you get more air, but with Sylus fiddling with your top, your chest heaves. You close your eyes and run your hands down his chest again, feeling the goosebumps rise across his skin under your fingertips.  

“Unfortunately, I can’t give it to you. Not yet, at least.”

He finally pulls the tab further down, the buzz of the teeth separating fills the room. Your top loosens and you feel his hand press against your newly exposed skin. He hesitates, giving you a moment to stop him. Instead, you pull the straps down and pull your top away, tossing it to the floor behind you. 

His hands slide up your back unhindered before gliding his hand around to cup your breast. The feeling of his palm on the underside of your tit makes you shiver. His thumb flicks over your nipple and you moan, throwing your head back. 

Your body is on fire as his hands explore your breasts, squeezing and tugging until you grab his wrists. He tucks his hands under your ass and lifts you, he sits up against the headboard. He wraps an arm around your waist while his other hand squeezes your breast, lifting it to his mouth. He rolls his tongue over the hardened peak before closing his lips around it. He holds your nipple between his teeth, not biting, but the pressure is enough to make you rock your hips against him. 

He releases your breast, his mouth moving to the other as he sinks his hand down the back of your shorts. He squeezes your ass while he suckles your breast, he’s painfully slow in his movements.

You try to lean back, the teasing becoming torturous. 

“... Don’t run.”

“You’re… so annoying…” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won’t deny it. I guess you can say I lied. Tonight, you’re not the only one feeling greedy…”

He picks you up, his hands under your thighs and you reach around his neck instinctively. He leans forward quickly and your back meets the bed again. His head dips down and he places kisses down your chest, kissing each nipple before continuing down your stomach.

“And I won’t be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied.” 

He reaches the waistband of your shorts and traces it with his finger. He hesitates. “Ah, I misspoke.”

You look down at him and watch him crawl over you until you’re face-to-face. 

“What…?”

He stares into your eyes, lifting a hand to gently hold your cheek.

“Greed can never be satisfied…”

He picks up your hand and places it against his chest. You feel his rapid heart beat. 

“But you can temporarily soothe it.”

His voice is calm, but the storm behind his eyes tugs at your heartstrings. He needs to know that you want him as much as he wants you.

“Say it again. Do you want it?”

You run your fingers through his damp hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You reach up and lock your fingers behind his neck, pulling him to you. You kiss him sweetly. He lets out a breath, as if he’d been holding it this whole time. You press your forehead to his.

“This is my answer.”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips once more. His hands move urgently to knead your breasts. You grab hold of his shirt and push it over his shoulders, he tugs the shirt loose and tosses it aside. Your hands explore his body, the definition of his abs, the curve of his chest, the deep V leading to the waistband of his pants.

He hooks his fingers and tugs your shorts and underwear down in one motion. The sudden burst of air against your core makes you moan loudly. You felt his fingers slide across your pussy, stopping at your clit to pinch and tug. You arch your back off the bed and cry out.

“Sy…!”

You hear a deep chuckle as the bed dips and you feel your legs being pushed apart. You look down in time to see his face dig into you. His nose rubs against your clit while his tongue presses into your entrance. He works slowly, reveling in your body reacting to every flick of his tongue. 

He shifts his mouth and sucks in your clit. You feel your hips twitch and you grind against his face. A deep moan of approval vibrates against your clit and your hands fly down to grip Sylus’s hair. Your tugs only earn you more groans and vibrations leaving you shaking. His finger circles your entrance and you buck your hips again.

“Sylus fuck…!”

You can feel him smile against your pussy. He wastes no time and presses in two fingers until his palm is flat against you. He curls them slowly and he strokes a spot that makes you see stars almost immediately. 

You’re shamelessly riding his hand now, your hips bucking every time he hits that spot. You feel tears pool and spill over. Your orgasm builds rapidly. You tug on Sylus’s hair once more, harder this time. He groans and pulls back just enough, his words muffled.

“Come for me, beautiful.” 

You hold your breath, calling on your remaining willpower to make this request.

“No, Sylus… I want… I need –”

His movements slow and he lifts his head to look at you, his fingers still pumping in and out slowly. You wiggle your hips away from his agile fingers, but Sylus grabs your hip, pressing you into the mattress to keep you still. 

“Tell me what you desire.” His voice is smooth as silk.

“I want you… inside me... Please Sylus...”

Sylus smiles, your arousal coats his chin and he licks his lips savoring your taste. He leans down to kiss you, slowly and purposefully. You taste yourself and whimper. He removes his fingers and runs his hands up your thighs.

“So direct.”

He reaches down to pull at his belt. You reach down to help him and he chuckles, placing his hand back on the bed to let you handle it. He rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll give you anything you want, sweetie. Everything I have is yours.”

You unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper, your hands shaking as your mind reels from his words. You meet his gaze as your hand slides down the front of his boxers. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and firmly drift your hand up and down. His mouth falls open and he gasps quietly.

“All I want is you.”

You feel lighter, like this secret you’d been keeping was weighing you down. And for what? You had finally let your guard down, you didn’t need it when you were with him. Not anymore. He was what you wanted, he made you feel safe, seen, beautiful, happy. 

Hearing your words stirred something in him. He looks down at you, his eyes glistening. The smile on his face is radiant and you trace it with your thumb, wanting to always remember this moment. 

He pulls your hand from his boxers before standing briefly to remove his pants and boxers completely. How he felt didn’t do him justice, he was going to fill you and then some. He chuckles, he must have seen your eyes widen. He crawls back onto the bed and hovers over you, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Don’t be afraid, kitten. I have you. I won’t hurt you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down, his chest presses against you and you sigh at how perfect his skin feels against yours. One of his hands dips down and starts tracing languid circles around your clit. You kiss him hard, feeling his presence everywhere. 

He rolls you over to your side and guides your leg over his hip. His arm under you wrapping around your shoulder to keep you close. You hold his cheek before raking your fingers through his hair. 

You finally feel the head of his cock press against your entrance and you shudder. He reaches down, angles himself and then tucks his hand under your knee, lifting your leg higher. He starts to press into you and you have to break the kiss to groan in response. He takes his time, letting you adjust and stretch. He waits for you to push your hips forward, begging for more of him, before he continues. You grab a fistful of his hair and dig your nails into his back. 

“Are you ready? Tell me…”

His muffled words bring you back. You let out a breathy laugh and bury your face in his neck.

“Yes, Sy… all of you.”

He bucks his hips one last time and buries himself fully. You scream his name, completely overwhelmed. He strokes your hip and cradles your head. He kisses you slowly as he pulls out and rams back into you. You moan into his mouth, incoherent words tumble from your lips.

“You’re so… perfect, so… so beautiful…” 

His words are broken, his pace quickening with every syllable. You start to match his movements, feeling him deeper and deeper with every thrust. He rolls you on your back once more and you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your heels. His lips trail down your neck to your chest, his pace never faltering. 

“Feels so – ngh – you feel so good Sy… oh god…”

His moans start to sound like whimpers as he takes in your praises. You want to hear him and feel him and hold him, always. Your muscles clench and you feel the pressure building, Sylus can feel it too, your walls fluttering around him bringing him close to the brink as well. He starts to thrust faster, his hands finding your breasts again to pinch and tug at your swollen nipples. 

Your thighs burn from how tightly you’re holding onto him and pulling yourself upwards. Every nerve is on fire and your lungs burn with how hard you are breathing. His pace starts to become erratic, his hips stuttering. 

“Come for me, Sy. Come in me…”

He holds his breath, trying to slow down and hold off, but you’re not letting him. You realize he wanted control, but really he never had it. Not completely. His pleasure is directly linked to your own. And he wants to give you everything you desire. Right now, all you desire is feeling his release deep inside you. He’s already made his way into your heart and now… 

That’s when it hits you. You place kisses along his jaw and down his neck. You sink your teeth into his skin and the way he moans your name sends you right over the edge. You release his neck and throw your head back, chanting his name louder and louder. Your climax gushes across his abdomen and thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck…”

Sylus tries to continue his movements, but once he sees the intensity of your release he can’t hold back. You feel the warmth of his cum and nearly cry out with how full you feel. His cock buried deep inside you, his cum filling you to the brim, his voice singing your name, his lips peppering your face and neck with open mouth kisses. 

He slowly pulls out and you unhook your legs, you fall to the bed and your legs tremble. Sylus rubs your hips, massaging them carefully. Your breathing steadies and you force your eyes open. Sylus hovers above you, he looks at you with so much admiration and joy, his hair slicked back with sweat, his neck bearing the mark you left. You reach up to hold his face, stroking his cheeks softly. 

“My beloved…” You whisper.

Sylus collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, smothering you with a thousand kisses. You wrap your arms around him and hold him close. You’ve never felt so at peace. 

You desperately want more, but your mind is drifting. Sylus senses your exhaustion, he rolls off of you, sits up to grab the blanket from the bottom of the bed, covers you both and drapes an arm over your waist. You roll on your side and lean back, letting him pull you to him until your back is flat against his chest. You lift your head and Sylus slips his arm under, letting you use his arm as a pillow. You let out a deep contented sigh. 

With Sylus holding you close, his steady breaths fanning your ear, his heart beat putting you at ease, it doesn’t take long for you to fall into a dreamless sleep. You wonder if you’ll ever dream again? What’s left to dream of? You have everything you could possibly dream of right here.

AN (part 2): I want to note a few things real quick. Even with their dialogue about control, I feel like it was less about who dominates and more about love making. I also FIRMLY believe MC has a TON of control. In my opinion, Sylus enjoys dominance in the act, but not necessarily in the relationship. He will do anything she desires. Thank you for reading!! :)

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

[ladykailitha]

Photographer Steve and Model Eddie

Eddie is a famous model known for his temper tantrums and being aloof. No photographer has been able to catch any other side of him but bitchy and distant.

He has final say on everything, clothes, makeup and even the pictures they’re allowed to use. Photographers hate him. They actually draw straws or play roshambo for the dubious pleasure of photographing him.

That all changes when former war photographer Steve Harrington comes into the mix. He has his own set of rules. Max Mayfield is his makeup artist, Robin Buckley on hair, and Elinor Hopper as his fashion designer. He won’t use anyone else.

When a famous makeup brand decides to come out with a metal line, Eddie is the first to jump on board. And then he hears who the photographer is and throws a fit. But the makeup brand won’t budge. Either Eddie sucks it up or they go with someone else. Like Billy Hargrove.

That shuts Eddie up fast. The dude claims he’s “metal” but he’s punk and the very reason people confuse the two.

So he does his bitchy best to scare Steve off. He shows up an hour late in a raggedy band shirt, sweats, and flip-flops with an almost finished latte.

But Steve is unfazed. He knew Eddie would show up late so he doesn’t even start setting up until Eddie gets there.

Eddie pouts.

Then he notices that the only one there is Steve. There is no makeup artist, stylist, or hair stylist there. The clothes are though, which is weird.

Steve introduces himself and tells him that he likes to make sure his models are comfortable first before they even start getting ready. Especially with the fact that make brand wanted a naked shoot as part of it. That would be put in all the 18+ magazines.

Eddie is blinking at him in confusion. No one had asked about his comfort before and it stuns him for a moment. And he changes tactics. If being a brat won’t make this guy leave, maybe heavy flirting will and turns the charm up to eleven.

Steve is charmed, but he remains professional as he shows Eddie his ideas for the photo shoot and fuck, Eddie can’t help but like the idea. Starting the shoot off in white, fully clothed, and then the less clothes Eddie wears the darker the clothes get until the outfit right before the nude stuff is a black thong with a black, satin robe flowing over top.

Then the nudes would be photographed on red satin sheets, highlighting the makeup.

Eddie keeps dialing up the charm especially with Steve’s ladies as Eddie called them, but about half way through, he keeps the charm up because he actually likes them. Especially Steve.

Then it’s time to take the nude shots and Steve is on the bed with him taking close-ups and intimate shots that no one had dared take before.

Then the ad comes out and everyone is blown away. Not just of the makeup, but of how Steve photographed him. Like a lover taking personal shots for just the two them.

Suddenly Eddie, who was already a high class model, gets shot up to supermodel status. Wins model of the year and even several fashion awards for the shoot.

Then all those photographers who hated doing his shoots are instantly clamoring at his door for a chance to photograph him. But he refuses. He’ll only work with Steve and his team.

Then over the course of many shoots, they fall in love and everyone can see their relationship progress through the pictures Steve takes.

[meganchynnel]

35 here. The 30’s have been absolutely wonderful and I don’t regret the course of my life at all. I was a bit sad and lost in my 20’s, but I think instead of that seeming like a doomed cause, we should let folks BE sad and lost in their 20’s. I didn’t have ANYTHING figured out until the end of 2023 when I decided I’m going back to school for what I WANT to be doing. I’m working through college at 35, about to start a 2 year associates, and I’m so thrilled that things can still be new and exciting and that my life wasn’t set in stone so early. I NEEDED to explore my life as an adult before I truly knew what I wanted for myself. I NEEDED to make mistakes. Big ones. I NEEDED to figure out who I was once I got past the drama of being a young person with the world watching me, wondering what I would do.

I, too, started running again this past year. I started learning how to play the drums for the first time in my life. I experimented with different routines until I found one that stuck and works really well for me. My style has changed again and again. And it’s all so exciting.

If you’re in your 20’s, just breathe. Your very best days are ahead of you, you’re so, so young and you will have such an exciting life, and SO many opportunities to change your mind if you want to. You’re doing great!

I think being afraid of becoming 25 can be combated by like literally hanging out w people of all age groups and realizing that they too have personalities and hopes and dreams and goals and life is not over for you at like 30

[monokoitari]

As it seems my favorite hobby is making Shen Yuan transmigrate on random characters, idea where he transmigrates into a rogue cultivator with a very pretty and delicate face. It's almost like he looks like a pretty lady!!

... So, he decides that since he looks like a pretty girl, the only place he can survive without becoming a villain or cannon fodder is in Luo Binghe's harem.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't even plan on getting close to Luo Binghe! But infiltrating the harem is ridiculously easy. He then asks a servant if she can assign him a new room because one of the wives filled his room with poisonous herbs. Not surprisingly, it works, because Shen Yuan knows that this is one of the most common harem drama plots. Jealous wives, drama, seeking the emperor's attention. Very common.

Now, even if he has to cross-dress for it, he has a comfortable room, three meals a day, books everywhere. He starts making friends with the servants, because well, they're interesting demons and Shen Yuan has a lot of questions about their cultures and origins. They respond, of course, happy to be recognized as equals by someone so curious.

Eventually, if any of the wives tries to do something against him... The servants are the ones who will take away all the favor from her. Get along with the servants and you will have the world! So is Shen Yuan who receives the best fabrics for embroidery, the best dresses, the best foods, the freshest fruit, the best makeup items, the most beautiful jewelry. And when some jealous wife picks on him about it, the servants don't change her sheets, leave her clothes unwashed, and give her leftovers to eat.

The fame that Shen Yuan begins to gain in the harem is... complicated. Of course, he goes largely unnoticed. He dresses modestly, spends time with the servants. When he walks through the gardens he is always talking to one or two servants about monsters, creatures, strange flowers, asking questions and gathering data. Shen Yuan is the emperor's strange wife that none of the 300 wives know where he came from, but no one suspects that he doesn't belong there because, well. In reality, it is completely impossible for there to be 300 of them all to know each other. Some do not even know the main wives beyond the stories told about them.

The only one who remembers, recognizes and knows all his wives is, of course, Luo Binghe.

And Luo Binghe knows that she... that he? is not one of his wives.

However, he doesn't cause trouble, he's kind to the servants, he doesn't attack other wives, and he doesn't seek their attention. So how bad can it be to just allow him to be there? He keeps a low profile, and even seems to be hiding. Luo Binghe considers the idea of him being a minor noble fleeing his horrible family and believing that he can find a home in the harem because of Luo Binghe's good treatment of his wives.

It would be cruel to kick him out when he apparently has good friends in the palace and a home now. Plus, he has to admit that he is very committed to his hiding place: he always wears dresses, elaborate hairstyles and looks like a delicate and sweet young lady with rouge on his cheeks and his lips as pink as petals.

And Luo Binghe is curious. Oh well. If he approach him and act like he really believe that they are married, talking and trying to understand him, wouldn't that be interesting?

(It is not interesting for Shen Yuan. Now, facing a Luo Binghe who definitely believes that they are married and offers his arm in walks in the gardens and conversations, Shen Yuan could die. The blackened protagonist is going to kill him when he knows the truth!! Well, that means he have to do... ahem... Whatever it takes to convince him that he's one of his pretty wives.)

[cherrysurf]

winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

[suiana]

❝ I Reincarnated Into a Shitty Chirstmas Romance Movie and My Love Interest is a Yandere?! ❞

✎ featuring my creature, Ezra Valentine :3 this is just ezra being a weirdo, some lore for my game? idk blawg just read it and you'll find out

✎ special shoutout tags to these people @yandere-yearnings @forbidden-sunlight @moyazaika @bun3333s @yanderenightmare @cumtastiics @ozzgin

Your "childhood friend" is a bit of a weirdo, you think.

Staring at you for far too long, lingering touches that suggest that he's more than just a bit interested in you, and the weird random confessions about how he wants to get crushed under the heel of your right shoe...

It's just weird.

You've reincarnated into a shitty christmas romance movie. And your "childhood friend", aka the love interest, aka Ezra Valentine, has a crush on the main character, you. Obviously.

You don't even know why you watched this movie in the first place. Boredom, maybe? Yeah, probably was because you started dozing off after hour 1 of the movie. The movie was... 1 and a half hour long? It wasn't even rated that high. Like a... 6.9 at best.

And now you're stuck here all because you watched this shitty movie with an even shittier plot. Where the main character left the small town for a big city, came back home to celebrate christmas and meets childhood friend, decides to give up big city life because they both fall for one another.

Just like every other damn Mallhark movie. Predictable, boring, absolutely TRASH.

You don't even know why or how you got reincarnated into this damned movie in the first place! Did you fucking pass away in your sleep??? Actually just die from fucking boredom???

Well it's no use thinking about that now because you've been stuck in here for a while now. You think that you're maybe about halfway through the original plot, where Ezra and the old mc were supposed to have some bonding time together and shit. But that's not the case now, because you've changed the plot.

And you're realizing that this "childhood friend" of yours... Is acting a little bit differently.

You don't remember him being that much of a weirdo in the original movie. If you remember correctly,he was just like, a little bit of a shy loser boy who was infatuated with the MC and liked gaming. But now... Now he's, what, a masochist? Or did they just not add that fact into the movie? You couldn't have forgotten. If the love interest was openly a weirdo like he is to you, you wouldn't have dozed off in the first place. Just now, he literally asked to be crushed under your right shoe. Crushed. Under. Your. Shoe. How the hell is that boring? You'd be 101% AWAKE. You love freaks more than anything, damn!

Now that you think about it, he's more than just a bit of a weirdo.

He's been calling and acting like he's your boyfriend. Hell, he acts like a CLINGY boyfriend too. Asking where you're going, clinging to you, giving you those damned boba eyes everytime you talk to others, specifically dudes. Fun fact but you wish he'd stop abusing those eyes of his because fuck, how can you resist him when he's looking at you like that?

Worse of it all, you can't do anything. Not when your key out and helper, Ai, said to act cool and to not arouse any suspicion from him.

Ai's also another character in this movie by the way. His character trope: the hot side character that barely gets screentime and is also sentient. And right now, he's helping you find a way back to your world... Meanwhile you've been stuck in Ezra's apartment under the guise of a mandatory childhood bestie sleepover.

It's been days since you've actually last seen Ai in person because of how much Ezra, your "childhood friend", has been clinging to you. In just the past 3 days, he's made you watch the entire fnaf lore theory THRICE. And not once have you stepped outside his apartment. Not because you don't want to, but because he'd always find some bullshit excuse to keep you with him.

"O-oh but kitty you'd miss this very important scene... Where freddy goes hurhurhuhr"

"Kitty! Kitty you can't leave now! We have to watch it again! What? We watch it more times so it gets engrained into our brains! That's just common sense!"

"Keeping you h-hostage?! I'm not! All friend do this! It's just u-um, friend bonding time! We haven't been around each other in so long you know..."

It's weird. Just plain weird.

Thankfully you still have your phone so you could occassionally sneak a message or two to Ai, informing him of your current situation. As long as that black haired man baby doesn't see everything is fine...

y/n: currently watching a new video, thank gyatt for that

y/n: would actually jump if i have to watch more fnaf

y/n: erm... lowkey think this is worse though... its a video about danganronpa

Ai: don't worry, i'll be there to save you in a bit

Ai: i might have found a way to get you out of here

y/n: fr? ty for that silly goober :3 all while im chilling on the couch having some me time :333 ur so skibidi

"A-ahem! y/n who are you texting..?"

Shit. This damned guy! What does he think he's doing? Just popping up the second you finally have some alone time?! Wasn't he passed out from lunch just minutes ago???

"Erm... Just a friend?"

Ezra stares at you with wide round eyes, lps turning down into a frown before he sits uncomfortably close, pressing his long, lanky body against yours. Always the tall skinny guys that are the biggest weirdos man.

"Just a... friend?"

"Yeah, just a friend."

I mean, it wasn't wrong. Ai really was just a friend to you. Or at least that's what you think. To Ezra and his fucked up mind... Maybe you were abandoning him? And now he's jealous and might want to go batshit crazy on AI?

Haha! No way that would happen! Ezra, no matter how crazy he is, wouldn't go that far! He's just a loser who has an added interest in you now after all!

The look in his eyes say otherwise though.

"But I'm your friend, aren't I?"

Cold, dark, obsessive.

The way he stared at you sent literal chills down your spine. He had never looked at you in such a way before. Pathetic and needy, yes. But never this... Whatever the hell this was.

You back into the fabric of the seat, feeling a cold sweat line the skin of your forehead. All of a sudden, the room feels all too small and it's like you're trapped in his apartment with no way to escape.

It was suffocating.

"I'm the only friend you need. The only one you need, y/n."

You don't really recall a time where he's called you y/n so easily. It's always some stupid petname like kitty. And goddamn it, you wish he'd just say that instead. Hearing him call your name while he's staring into your very soul like this is making you feel like you're about to shit your pants.

"U-uh, okay dude chill out. You're my dearest friend, alright? Look let's jsut go back to watching that danganronpa analysis..."

And just like that, the terrifying aura IMMEDIATELY disappears and you're left with a sopping wet puppy of a man. You decide to make the first move, fiddling with the remote as you stand up and move close to the coffee table. Anythinng to gte away from this weird bipolar guy. How the hell did he develop this? A new character arc maybe?

In the midst of you trying to look anywhere but Ezra, you fail to realize that he had already taken your phone, leaving you with no way to contact Ai now.

"Now you'll never have another friend again..."

"What was that?"

"O-oh I said now you'll never be bored again! Haha!"

Right, totally what he said.

[uncle-fruity]

I love the new year! It's my favorite holiday, and people who say that nothing changes or resolutions don't work or that everything is bad so there's no point in celebrating miss the point, imo. It's about getting through another year! It's about progressing and surviving and setting intentions for the new year. But too many people think of resolutions and new beginnings as things that have to be Big and Challenging for them to be meaningful, but that's really not how change works.

For the last several years, I've done what I call Resolution Bingo. I think of 24 things that range from Easily Doable to A Challenge and write them out on a bingo sheet. (Free space is always just Stay Alive.) The idea isn't to do all 24, but rather to try to get one or more bingos throughout the year.

I have never actually gotten a bingo (though I've come very close) but it doesn't matter. The point of Resolution Bingo is to put intention out there for the new year. I think of things I want to do or learn or get back into and I put them on my bingo sheet. Because of Resolution Bingo, I've gone to see more live shows than I used to. I've done more art projects & followed through with them. I've visited new places & had new adventures. I've learned new skills in cooking, needlework, and many other areas of interest. I have made both big and small positive steps for my life because of the resolutions I set at the beginning of the year.

So my advice is to think of resolutions as less of a major life change that you want to dive into -- take the stress off. You can make smaller resolutions that help with your bigger goals. I always tell people who decide they also want to do Resolution Bingo that they shouldn't put anything like, "Run daily/weekly," because as soon as you miss a day, it can demotivate you into stopping all together. Or, if you keep it going, you might feel guilty about marking it off on your bingo sheet at the end of the year, even if you still did a lot of work towards the goal. So, usually, I recommend setting realistic goals that get you going. Stuff like "run a 5k" or "run 3 different running trails" or you know... whatever is reasonable for you and has a tangible beginning & end. If you start working towards something fun or rewarding, you will still be doing the running you set out to do. Going for a daily run is good and all, but it's a slog if you don't know what you're working towards or if you don't allow yourself to rest on days that you really need rest.

My resolutions this year include things like getting a piercing, reading 50 academic papers, visiting all the libraries in my city, learning to place all the countries on a world map from memory, learning 3 new recipes, go somewhere new, complete 1 sewing project... Stuff that will take time and energy, but which will improve my life in ways I want to see it improve. If I don't set some goals -- even fun ones like going to a new museum -- I will just forget to do anything exciting or new & get lost in the depressing Grind of Life. And if you're lost in the depressing Grind of Life, remember to get outside and so anything at all that sounds appealing or productive or fun. It really helps to connect with the good things in life; makes you stronger and more stable in the long run.

I'm coming out as a new year's enjoyer. "Oh you will never stick to these goals" "nothing is really different between one day and the next" "why celebrate the bad years" because I want to!!! Because I love endings and beginnings and making lists!! I love the concept of starting the year by partying I love the drama of kissing someone at midnight I love the one time of the year when it is cold I love starting a new calendar and I love cheering for no reason

[cherie-doll]

I have this brainrot for a while now

Which cod man would be the most husband material, who waits for the shortest amount of time before getting married? And who would be the one who would be fine with not getting married at all? And where are the rest of them?

How many kids would they want if they want?

I don’t need sleep, i need answers!😭

sorry for the delay my wifi is so slow, we just got a new batch of snow down here and tbh it might be affecting my internet

✧ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᰍᩚ Price... he's PERFECT husband material. Cut from the finest cloth I'm SO normal about him. You've just observed his behavior closely and he doesn't do annoying things like leaving his clothes lying around on the floor or leaving unwashed dishes in the sink. He def want to get married, but doesn't wait too long nor asks you right away, he'd time it just right. As for kids? Maybe he could convince you to have one or two...

ᰍᩚ Ghost... he doesn't realize he can lowkey be a good husband. He thinks he's not willing to adapt to anyone, given how much stuff he's been through. A relationship isn't the worst thing he's had to go through, he's gone through worse, so why is he thinking about it so much? He doesn't want to enter a relationship with only half a heart, not mindlessly. But he knows his feelings towards you don't come from nothing. His feelings would have to be resolved before you even started dating, so that afterwards everything progresses pretty smoothly. And after marriage, kids? Maybe idk.

ᰍᩚ Soap... he probably had your entire life planned out before he confessed. He knew he loved you, was convinced he wanted to marry you and needed to have kids. So, he waited the least amount of time to marry you. There's lots of things he could improve on as a partner but the good thing is he's willing to make any and all of those changes for you. His respect will never run dry, he won't let desperation take ahold of him, always letting you know one way or another he still cares. It was up to you to decide how many kids you'd be okay with but if it were up to him... yk what better not go there.

ᰍᩚ Gaz... Perfect boyfriend AND husband material. He loves showing affection with the little things, a cup of coffee or tea and cuddling when you feel down or taking care of chores when you need a break. Simple things that he does on the daily that in the long run fortify your relationship. The amount of time he waits before asking you to marry him depends and it's all on how you want your relationship to progress. He's surefooted in his decisions so after the initial stages of the relationship when he's gotten to know you very well, your faults and what he loves about you, he just lets you know that if you want to take that step, he's more than ready to do so. He def wants kids, at least three.

ᰍᩚ Roach... oh my sweet boy ToT. He's such boyfriend material and in time will no doubt grow into a loving husband. He very deeply cares about your connection and how deep it runs between you both. The topic of marriage comes up at a very proper time in your relationship, it's when all he can think of is holding your hand every day, how comforting your presence is to him and how this couldn't ever revert into something casual. Marriage is a definite yes for him. Kids are something he wouldn't think of right away. Maybe a few years down the lane, and maybe one.

ᰍᩚ Alejandro... you made him wish impossible things. How you've made him feel, the sensations not only running smoothly over his skin but finding a way to penetrate deeply, to make him desire nothing else but a life with you. Marriage was the ideal way to continue living in that daydream. How he wishes the days were endless, so he can rejoice for eternity with you. If this was what made him wish to be better, then he was surely husband material. In time, he'd want to start a family with you, to create life, to have little ones to take care of. Three or four kids would occupy his days.

ᰍᩚ Rudy... is THE blueprint for all husbands out there to follow. He's very patient, his voice soothes you, could lull you to sleep. Always listens to you even if you rant, if you point out a flaw of his he works to be better. Never pushed you into doing anything, even when he could already hear the wedding bells ringing, he wanted you to make this decision on your own. In the back of his mind, he most likely already had baby names planned and asked if you wanted kids. He def did and wanted three. He thought it was the perfect number.

ᰍᩚ Phillip Graves... husband material at its FINEST. He's not only charming and a gentleman as a boyfriend but also as a husband. He just couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger so he did want marriage very soon. There is no way he'd NOT want children, he's just as much father material as he is husband material. I've said it before but he was made to father children and I will die on that hill. He loves going everywhere with his son, showing him how to run a company and then he gentles when his daughter is born, doing everything she wants.

ᰍᩚ Makarov... husband material at the core. Deep on the inside he can be genuine and want to care for someone. He likes having someone to depend on him, under his care, leaning on him for that strange affection that isn't found anywhere else. It would be hard to refuse him with the amount of gifts he sends to sweeten you up and coax you to accept his proposal that came too soon for your liking. But look at it this way, he'll always provide everything you'll ever need and want and in exchange you only have to agree to marry him, live with him and... kids. Yes, he wants kids. A numerous family preferably.

ᰍᩚ Keegan... is quite levelheaded when it comes to relationships so he's fine with staying your boyfriend and living with you or becoming your husband when you marry. He could improve on becoming peak husband material but you're lucky if he picks up his clothes from the floor and places it in the laundry basket instead. He thinks having no kids is better until you get a scare thinking you might be with child and he gets excited until you call false alarm. He felt disappointment and then realized he did want kids after all. Would be fine with just one but wouldn't completely be against having another one later on.

ᰍᩚ König... it's not him you have to worry about when it comes to marriage. He's got to watch out for himself because YOU'RE going to wife him up, otherwise he'd never get around to asking you to marry him. Not that he wouldn't want to but he's thinking when would be the perfect moment to ask and he's always thinking, "I'm going to ask them next date", and another date comes and goes by and then another and another... He'd learn to be so loving with kids you just gotta convince him he CAN be a good father. I don't know how many he could handle though.

ᰍᩚ Horangi... he's fun but he's prob best as a boyfriend. Not that he could never be a husband because he can, but he'd be completely fine with not marrying. If you're expecting him to bring up the question and get down on his knee for you... then you're probably setting yourself up for disappointment. It'd take him a while and you'd have to hint at wanting marriage, because otherwise he wouldn't mind just moving in together. I know I used to say he'd want marriage quickly but idk man my perception of him changed. He might get baby fever (rare) and he might ask for ONE kid them, but don't think he's the type for them much.

ᰍᩚ Nikto... if he does open up to wanting a relationship you've got to work with him on the long run. He might be closed off to certain things simply because he might not see a point in progressing in that field, but once he sees that you respect him and don't force anything, he'd def want to marry you. I'm not exactly sure how long he'd wait before proposing to you, honestly it all depends but once he grows attached to a person he wouldn't want to be apart from them so I'm guessing he'd tie the knot pretty soon. The topic of kids is something he's very hesitant of, he rarely gets baby fever, like ever. It'd have to be a lot of convincing on your part. But he might be okay with one or two at most.

[mrsfancyferrari]

We're Saved

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay. PT 3

Song: Let The Light In - Lana Del Ray

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. Unfortunately this will not be the finale! The FINALE is officially in part 4! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Taglist: @ahhhhhm, @daniskywalkersolo, @friendshipis-magic, @tellybearryyyy, @lanadelray1989, @owl778, @almostuniversallyface, @maluzets55, @dying-inside-but-its-classy, @noooway555, @unknownmystery22, @forensicheart, @a-beaverhausen, @moonstruck-poet, @mendes-bae.

Word count: 27.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

"I’m innocent! I was cheated on by Y/N with Max Verstappen! She left me for this other guy. It’s all her fault. She slept with him when we were dating! I'm innocent! Please!" His voice, frayed with desperation, sends shockwaves through your system.

You feel your heart racing, an uneven rhythm that reverberates in your chest, drowning out the echoes of the world around you. The bowl of popcorn slips from your fingers, scattering pieces across the living room floor.

You blink rapidly, the words blaring from the TV like a siren wailing through the night. Jake stands there, disheveled yet defiant, claiming innocence while slandering your name.

“Y/N, calm down, breathe,” Christian implores, his own voice laced with worry as he pauses the TV. He steps in front of the screen, blocking your view of Jake’s dramatic claims.

The concern in his eyes cuts through the fog of anxiety descending over you. “It’s okay. It’s just Jake. You know he’s lying.”

You shake your head, the reality of his words spinning through your mind like a tornado. “But, how can he just say that? People will believe him!”

“Hey,” he takes a step closer, his presence a steady anchor against the rising tide of panic. “Listen to me. You know the truth. You didn’t cheat on him. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just him trying to save face.”

“But what if they don’t see it that way? What if they think I really did—”

“They won’t,” Christian interrupts softly, his eyebrows knitting in concern. “You’re not going to let some headlines dictate your worth, are you?”

Taking a deep breath, you fight against the tide of emotions crashing over you. It wasn’t just Jake’s words that hurt; it was the betrayal, the way he twisted your love story into something ugly.

“I just don’t understand,” you finally whisper, feeling the weight of the world pressing heavily on your shoulders. “Why would he say something like that?”

“Because he’s angry and scared,” Christian replies. “He’s lashing out because he knows he messed up. But you’re stronger than this, Y/N. You didn’t cheat. You ended a toxic relationship. We both know that.”

The flicker of hope ignites momentarily within you, but it quickly dims as that familiar pang of uncertainty tugs at your heart. “I never wanted things to end like this. Did I really mean that little to him?”

Christian places his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “You meant a lot to him once. But people change, Y/N. Sometimes they become someone you no longer recognize. It sounds like he’s trying to rewrite history because he can’t accept the truth of his mistakes.” His words wash over you like a soothing balm. You nod slowly, attempting to absorb his encouragement.

“Have you thought about confronting him?” Christian asks. “Not on TV, of course, but in private. He needs to understand the ramifications of his words.”

You shake your head, the very thought of Jake and his betrayal makes you feel exhausted. “I don’t know if I can,” you admit. “Just seeing his face makes me—”

Your voice catches, and Christian pulls you closer, enveloping you in an embrace that feels like home. “Then don’t confront him. Focus on what matters right now—yourself. Your peace of mind. We can figure this out together.”

“Can we—can we just turn the TV off?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. The thought of hearing Jake’s voice again fills you with dread.

“Absolutely,” Christian replies, pushing the button on the remote, the screen fading to black. It feels like a weight has been lifted. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, feeling defeated. “Maybe just distract myself? I can’t think about this right now.”

Your phone buzzes against the coffee table as it lights up, cutting through the haze of despair. Christian glances at the screen, squinting at the name flashing across it.

“It’s Max,” he says, his brows furrowing slightly. “Do you want to talk to him?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice, relief flooding through you at the thought of speaking with him. Max always knew how to make you laugh, how to pull you back from the edge of your spirals. Christian takes the call, speaking softly into the phone.

“Max, do not, under any circumstances, talk about Jake. Y/N is not ready for that now. Just take her mind off it.”

“Of course, I understand. Can you give the phone to Y/N now?” Max’s voice, warm and buoyant, crackles through the line.

“Okay, but remember,” Christian warns as he hands you the phone.

“Hey schat!” Max’s voice floods your ear, bringing with it an instant warmth that begins to thaw the tension coiling around your heart.

“Hey, Max,” you reply softly, trying to match his enthusiasm. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just wanted to tell you that the cats are missing you,” he says, and you hear a distant meow in the background, a confirmation that in their own way, they too are longing for your presence.

You chuckle, trying to hold back the mass of emotions threatening to rise within you. “Of course they do! I’m their favorite after all.”

“It took me so long to get them to like me and you did it in three minutes. Oh—Sassy, stop! Schat? Do you mind going on video call? They really want to see your face.”

“Of course, Max,” you say, feeling a soft smile break through the tension.

Christian watches you, his heart swelling with hope. Just seeing you smile, even slightly, is a relief. After a moment, you hear the familiar ringing tone on your phone as the video connects, and suddenly, you see Max’s face beaming back at you, framed by the chaos of your shared lives.

“Look who’s here,” he says in a mock-serious tone, gesturing dramatically toward the camera. Then, just outside the frame, two furry figures leap into view.

“Hey, you two!” You coo, leaning closer to the screen, your spirit lifting as the cats vie for your attention. “Missed you so much!”

A sudden giggle escapes you as one of the cats gets distracted, pouncing at something invisible offscreen. You can’t suppress the smile that spreads across your face, and in that moment, Christian knows he made the right call in bringing Max into the situation.

Meanwhile, in another room, Christian picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Geri’s name. Her voice always managed to calm him, a soothing balm to the chaos of parenthood and life.

“Hey love,” she answers on the second ring.

“Hey, Y/N had seen the news about Jake, and I think she just had a panic attack,” he explains, worry lacing his words.

“What! I told you to not show her just yet! Where is she?” Geri’s voice is sharp, full of concern.

“Don’t worry, she’s calmed down,” he says, glancing into the living room where he can still hear your laughter.

There’s a pause on the other end, and Christian can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. “Is that her? She sounds fine to me.”

“She’s talking to Max. I told him to cheer her up,” he replies.

“Sounds like it’s working miracles! I heard that a loved one can help panic attacks,” Geri states matter-of-factly.

“Love,” Christian warns softly.

“What? They love each other,” she says, disbelief threading her tone.

“But she may still like Jake.” His voice is a whisper now, almost a prayer that you’ve moved on.

“After this? She’s probably forgotten about that bastard now she’s speaking to Max,” Geri says with fierce confidence.

“Honey, no cursing, I’m with the kids,” he chuckles lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

A few moments later, squeaky yet bright, and it’s Montague, their little one. “Hi Mommy, love you!” he chirps.

“Hey, baby! Love you too! I’m coming home soon,” Geri replies, her own voice turning softer, more maternal than ever.

“Dear? I’ll speak to Y/N when I get home; just keep her distracted, okay?” Geri adds, a hint of authority in her tone.

“Of course, love, I’ll keep her entertained,” Christian promises, a smile creeping on his face as he glances back at you.

You’re still deeply engrossed in Max’s antics, and he can see it’s working wonders.

As the call continues, laughter and lightness fill the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For the first time in what feels like weeks, you're allowed to forget the chaos outside—if only for a moment.

Christian watches you, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this is the first step toward healing. Amid the blankets of pain Jake left you buried under, your laughter is a fresh thread, weaving you and Max closer, and as the minutes slip by, you know that this is where your heart wishes to be, in the company of those who truly care.

Time passes, and the shadows cast by your past begin to lighten, revealing new paths forward, ones that glimmer with potential and hope.

You don’t have to think about Jake anymore—not right now, anyway. You’ve found solace and comfort in friends, and maybe soon, you’ll find a little love too.

You went to sleep after dinner, the phone call with Max had calmed you down for now, but now all you wanted was sleep. Unfortunately, sleep didn’t want you back. After what felt like an hour of tossing and turning, you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you said, sitting up on your bed, the sheets pooling around your waist.

The door opened slowly, and Geri walked in, closing the door behind her. “Hey, Y/N,” she said sweetly, her voice warm and motherly, like you were one of her children. It felt that way sometimes, especially in moments like this.

“Hi, Geri,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Geri sat down on your bed, her presence calming in a way that was both comforting and suffocating. “I heard about what happened today. Are you alright?”

You looked down, avoiding her gaze, a lump forming in your throat. “No,” you said, honesty spilling out before you could think better of it. You didn’t feel like lying to this woman who had always been a source of support.

“And that’s alright,” she replied gently, her hand reaching out to squeeze yours. “You’re allowed to feel that.”

“Geri, I don’t even know where to start,” you confessed, your voice cracking. “He… he just turned everyone against me. People I thought I could trust. They’re all believing him.”

“Not everyone, from what I heard. Max still believes you,” Geri said, her eyes sparkling with a glimmer of hope.

Your heart skipped at the mention of Max. You felt a flicker of warmth in your chest, but it was quickly extinguished by the cold reality of the situation.

“But what does that even matter? Jake was on national TV! He lied about me. He said I cheated on him, Geri! Everyone is hearing that, and all they see is him, crying over how I betrayed him. I can’t compete with that.”

Geri leaned in, her eyes earnest. “Y/N, people who know you will see through the lies. You’re not that person. You didn’t cheat on him.”

“I thought I knew him. I thought he cared about me,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks. “How could he do this to me?”

“He’s scared,” Geri replied softly. “People do crazy things when they’re afraid. It’s easier for him to deflect the blame than to face his own issues. You know that.”

You nodded slowly, but the hurt was still fresh, like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. You felt exposed, raw, and utterly devastated by the public humiliation.

“You know something like this happened to me a long time ago,” Geri said gently, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “Shall I tell you about it?”

You nodded, desperate for a distraction, for the comfort of shared experience.

“I had a boyfriend called Kyle. I thought he was the one for me until one day, after the concerts with the girls, he told everyone I knew I had cheated on him with one of the backup dancers. Word got out and it became a scandal,” Geri started, her eyes clouding with memories.

“What happened after?” you asked, intrigued. You leaned in closer, wanting to absorb every word.

“I didn’t know what to do. No one other than my friends and family believed me. The press was calling me a cheater. My manager said to forget about it and write a statement on social media about the truth,” Geri recounted, her voice steadying.

You felt a flicker of hope. “And did you? Did you write a statement?”

“Sort of,” Geri replied with a smirk. “I took a break and decided to take some time for myself. Friends suggested that I go to a Formula 1 race, and that’s when I met Christian. He helped me through the dark times. Just like Max is doing for you.”

“Max…” you murmured, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks. You didn’t want to think about how much you liked him, especially now.

“He’s been really supportive, hasn’t he?” Geri asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You two have this incredible chemistry. It’s nice to see you smile again, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

You sighed, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. “I don’t want to drag him into my mess. What if Jake twists the narrative again? I can’t let that happen to someone else.”

“Max cares about you, Y/N. He’s not just going to abandon you because of what Jake said. Trust me, he sees who you really are,” Geri encouraged.

“I know, but it just feels so complicated right now,” you confessed, pulling your knees to your chest. “What if it gets worse? What if I end up hurting him?”

“Love is complicated, but you don’t have to face this alone,” Geri reassured her. “You can lean on Max, just like I leaned on Christian. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s just how relationships grow. And trust me, no one who truly cares about you is going to abandon you because of someone else’s lies.”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. You knew Geri was right, but her heart was a battlefield, torn between past affections and the promise of a better future with Max.

“What if I lean onto Max and he thinks I’m just a mess?” your voice cracked. “What if he sees me as broken?”

“Y/N, you are not broken. You’re human, and you’re allowed to feel hurt and lost after everything that’s happened. But if you push him away because of that fear, you might miss out on something beautiful,” Geri urged.

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, “I just need a moment. I’m so scared of getting hurt again.”

Geri nodded, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay to be scared. Just remember that Max has shown you kindness and support. It’s a risk worth taking.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” you said, earning a gentle rub on your shoulder from her. “But what should I do now? This scandal is not going to disappear.”

“Talk to your manager and I’ll ask Christian for advice,” Geri suggested, her brow furrowing in concentration. “We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, okay?”

You nodded, your mind swirling with thoughts. As Geri stood to leave, you called out, “Geri?”

“Yeah?” Geri turned back, her expression open and warm.

“Thank you. For everything,” You said, your voice steadier now.

“Anytime,” Geri smiled before disappearing into the hallway. . . .

You woke up to the sound of hushed conversations drifting up from downstairs, an unfamiliar mix of voices that hinted at urgency and unease. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pushed back the covers, feeling a mix of anxiety and dread wash over you.

You took a moment to collect yourself before deciding to face the world beyond your bedroom. The soft morning light spilled into your room, illuminating the racing memorabilia that decorated the walls.

You rummaged through your wardrobe, searching for something that would help you regain a semblance of confidence amidst the turmoil.

Finally, you settled on a crisp, fitted polo shirt paired with tailored black jeans. You wanted to project strength and professionalism, even if your heart was in turmoil.

As you stepped into the living area, the chatter ceased momentarily, and all eyes turned toward you. The room felt charged with a palpable tension.

There, gathered in the living room, were Christian, Geri, your manager, and a Red Bull staff member you didn’t recognize. They all bore expressions of concern mixed with an eagerness to discuss the recent scandal.

“Good morning, did we wake you up?” Geri’s warm smile felt like a small comfort amidst the chaos.

“No, you didn’t. Did I interrupt a meeting?” you replied, your voice steady, even though your heart raced.

“Oh no, actually this meeting is for you,” your manager said gently, his brow furrowing slightly as he gestured for you to take a seat. “We were discussing the news of yesterday.”

Christian leaned forward, his eyes searching yours. “This is Rebecca, Red Bull’s Public Relations Manager,” he said, gesturing toward the young woman standing by the table.

She was poised and confident, her blazer sharp against her athletic frame. As she stood to shake your hand, you noticed her expression was one of sympathy.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, squeezing her hand firmly. “Can I drink some coffee before I join the meeting?”

“Join us whenever you’re ready,” Geri replied, her voice soothing as she motioned toward the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen.

You walked into the kitchen, your heart pounding with uncertainty. You could hear snippets of conversation as you waited for the coffee to brew.

When the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, you poured yourself a steaming cup and took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves before rejoining the group.

As you returned to the living room, you found the atmosphere had shifted slightly, the weight of the discussion palpable.

“So,” you began, trying to sound more composed than you felt, “what’s the plan?”

Rebecca cleared her throat. “We’re here to strategize your public response. The situation with Jake has escalated, and we need to manage the narrative before it spirals out of control.”

You set your coffee down on the table, the cup trembling slightly in your grip.

“I didn’t cheat on him, you know that, right?” You felt the urgency to clarify, to assure them of your innocence. “I’m not sure why he’d say that.”

Geri nodded, her expression one of understanding. “We know, and we’ll make that clear. But we need to address the media first. They’ll be relentless.”

“Could you please tell us in detail what events happened prior to know how to strategize?” Rebecca asked, her voice gentle yet firm.

You looked at Geri, seeking her reassurance. She nodded, her presence grounding you. Taking a deep breath, you began, “Jake had been getting more aggressive with me ever since I joined Red Bull. He said he didn’t want to lose me, but he would hit me, break things in the house… and then he’d apologize for being angry. I thought it was normal. I forgave him until the Austrian Grand Prix.”

You paused, the memory flooding back—laughter and cheers from the crowd, the thrill of victory, and then Jake’s face, twisted in anger.

“I won the race, and he was really furious for some reason. He hurt me… saying I cheated on him with Max. I didn’t. Max then came in and stopped him.”

As you recounted the incident, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The tension hung like a heavy fog. You could see the disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes, but there was also a flicker of understanding.

You stare at the table, your heart heavy with shame. “I still have some bruises and scars if you don’t believe me,” you mutter, ashamed to meet Geri’s gaze.

“Oh, honey,” Geri whispers, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We believe you. You deserve so much better than this.”

“I just don’t understand him anymore,” you say, shaking your head, your fingers brushing over the faint marks that Jake left on your skin.

Rebecca, your team manager, cleared her throat, drawing your attention. “We need to handle this carefully. The media is already buzzing, and we have to prepare a statement. But first, let’s talk about your safety. Have you thought about what you want to do regarding Jake?”

You looked down at your hands, heart racing as you contemplated the question. Fear and liberation wrestled within you. “I—I don’t know. I still love him, but I know I can’t go back to that. I don’t want to be that person again.”

Geri sighed, a mix of sympathy and frustration evident in her eyes. “Love shouldn’t feel like a prison. He put you in a terrible position, and you don’t deserve it.”

“I know,” you murmured, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “But he’s always been a part of my life, and it’s hard to just... let go.”

Rebecca shifted in her seat, her expression softening. “What about Max? Do you like him?”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you bit your lip. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted. “I mean, he’s always been there for me, especially during races. He’s so talented, and he respects me as a driver.”

Geri raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “That sounds like more than just teammate admiration, love.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips despite the gravity of the situation. “You’re ridiculous, Geri. It’s not like that. I’m just… trying to get through this mess with Jake.”

“But is it a mess you want to get back into?” Rebecca pressed gently. “What’s your heart telling you?”

Your heart raced as you pondered the question. The truth was, part of you craved the affection and validation Jake had once given you, but another part craved something deeper, something healthier.

“Well, I think the best thing to do is write your statement on social media, seeing as it will reach more people,” Rebecca suggested, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“Do I really have to? I mean, what if I make it worse?”

“Nothing can be worse than what Jake has already done,” Geri interjected. “You need to take control of your narrative, and you can’t let him dictate your life.”

You nodded slowly, knowing deep down that they were right. You grabbed your phone and opened your social media app, hesitating as your finger hovered over the screen. What could you say? How could you explain something so complex in a simple post?

“Just be honest,” Rebecca encouraged, leaning closer to you. “Let people know the truth. You can’t let them believe Jake’s lies.”

Taking a deep breath, you began typing. “I want to address the recent events. I am deeply hurt by the accusations made against me. My focus has always been on my career and my passion for racing. I never cheated on Jake. The truth is, I deserve to be respected and loved without betrayal.” You paused, your heart racing as you added, “I hope to navigate this situation with grace and find a way forward.”

Once you hit “post,” an unexpected wave of relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced by anxiety. What would the backlash be? How would Jake respond?

Max’s comment reads, “You deserve the world after all this 💙.”

Your heart skips a beat. You knew it would look like flirting to the public, but you couldn't care less. Max had always been the guy who treated you with respect, unlike Jake.

Rebecca notices your reaction. “Well, at least that’s the first step done. The next will be what you’re going to say in the press,” she states, her tone shifting to that of a strategist.

As a driver, you’ve always had a passion for racing, and this unexpected break has given you the chance to reflect on your upcoming press conference in Las Vegas in just two weeks.

The support you’ve received on social media has been overwhelming, with many women expressing their gratitude for your representation in a sport that often lacks it, even though that was never your intention.

“I want to see you as soon as possible,” he had said, his tone serious yet tender.

You had told him that you would be tied up babysitting Geri and Christian kids tomorrow night while they enjoyed their date night. He had agreed, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

“Don’t be nervous,” Geri teases, applying a final touch of lipstick. “He’s just a friend, right?”

“Geri, don’t,” you groan, rubbing your temples. You know she means well, but the flutter of emotions within you is a tempest you’re struggling to control.

The thought of Max brings you a sense of comfort, but also an undeniable tension. Your heart races just thinking about how he’d react to Jake’s lies.

The doorbell rings, shattering your train of thought. You jump up, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and barely hear Geri chuckle as you rush to the door.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself as you swing the door open.

Max stands there, his familiar figure cutting a striking silhouette against the evening light. For a moment, you both just stare at each other, taking in the sight. It feels surreal that after more than a week apart, he’s here.

You can see the concern etched on his face, mingling with a flicker of relief that he’s finally found you.

“Max,” you whisper, feeling a rush of emotions bubble to the surface. Without thinking, you step closer and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

He freezes for a moment, and then you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in tighter. It’s a crushing hug, and you need it more than anything in that moment.

The world fades away, and it’s just you and him. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice slightly muffled.

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “I missed you too. More than I can say.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, knowing that he doesn’t need to say his name for you to understand.

You nod, pushing your face back into his neck. You didn’t feel like talking about it. The last week had been tumultuous; you had lost your job, and the burden of uncertainty weighed heavily on you. But for now, you just wanted to bask in Max’s presence.

He seems to sense your hesitation. Instead of pressing further, he rubs your back in circles, grounding you with each gentle movement.

“Sorry to bother your reunion, but me and my wife need to go,” you hear a voice behind you. You let go to turn and see Christian, looking both happily and slightly irritated.

Geri comes out of nowhere, carrying her bag before playfully hitting her husband on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t be so sour, love! Don’t disturb young love,” she chides.

Max’s face turns crimson, and you can’t help but chuckle at his embarrassment.

“Oh, hello Geri and Christian,” Max says politely, but there’s an undercurrent of nervousness in his voice as if he hasn’t known them for years.

“Hey, Max, it’s been a while! I hope you don’t mind taking care of the kids,” Geri says, gesturing to her two children watching Moana, blissfully unaware of the adult world swirling around them.

“I don’t,” he replies quickly, a bit too quickly, as though he’s eager to impress.

After Geri and Christian bid goodbye to the kids, Geri pulls you into a warm embrace. “Don’t forget about the kids when you’re with him,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I won’t,” you assure, a smile spreading across your face as you pull back.

You wave as they enter their car and drive off, leaving you alone with Max. The quiet of the evening settles around you, a comfortable silence that feels right.

You turned back to see Max still lingering near the entrance, his eyes darting around, a shy expression plastered on his face.

“I’ve never seen you this red before; is something the matter?” you teased, stepping closer to him, feeling a strange thrill at the proximity.

“Nothing is wrong,” he muttered, though the way his cheeks flared made it hard to believe him.

Before you could respond, Olivia’s voice rang out from the living room, “Y/N! The movie stopped!”

You quickly walked to the living room, with Max trailing behind you. Upon entering, you found Olivia and Montague staring at the blank screen, their eyes wide and expectant.

When they noticed Max behind you, Olivia jumped to her feet, an expression of curiosity and surprise painting her face.

“Who is that?” she asked, pointing at Max, her eyes sparkling with interest.

“That’s Max Verstappen, your dad’s driver and my teammate, remember?” you explained, stepping in between the two children and Max, who was waiting for them to process the information.

Slowly, Olivia approached Max, her little brows furrowed in concentration. Montague, on the other hand, hid behind your leg, peeking out shyly.

Max, sensing the little girl’s hesitance, knelt down to be on her level, his warm smile making him more approachable.

“Hey there, Olivia,” he said softly, “I hear you like racing.”

Before he could say more, Olivia squealed, “Maxie!” and rushed to envelop him in a tight hug.

Max looked taken aback for a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes before he returned the hug, clearly relieved that she recognized him.

Montague peered from behind you, his gaze curious. You nodded encouragement, and the three-year-old cautiously waddled over to Max.

“Can I hug you too?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course!” Max replied, opening his arms wide. Montague dashed into his embrace, a shy grin breaking through his earlier timidity.

“Wow! You’re really strong!” Montague exclaimed as he pulled back to look at Max, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

Max chuckled, “You know it! But you’re a strong little guy too.” He ruffled Montague’s hair affectionately.

The room filled with warmth and laughter as you watched the unlikely trio connect. “You’ve got a great way with kids, Max,” you remarked, leaning against the couch, feeling a swell of fondness for him.

Max shrugged, a modest smile creeping across his face. “I guess they’re just a bit like racing—just need to know how to make them feel comfortable.”

Olivia, still bubbling with excitement, chimed in, “Can we watch Moana now, Max? Please?”

Max stood, dusting off his knees, “Absolutely! But only if you promise to sing along with me during the songs!”

“Deal!” Olivia declared, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. Montague nodded vigorously, and the two rushed back to the couch.

As Max settled in beside them, you felt an unexpected flutter in your chest watching him interact so effortlessly with the kids.

It was a sight you never knew you needed to see, and somehow, it made the day feel even more special.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. With the TV remote in one hand and a big bowl of freshly popped popcorn in the other, you navigated the living room and prepared to join the trio on the couch.

As you walked back in, you couldn’t help but marvel at the picture before you—Olivia and Montague snuggled up against Max, their faces alight with excitement as they chatted about the adventures of Moana.

Max was the only one who noticed your presence at the doorway. “Hey, you’re missing the best part!” he teased, his voice warm and inviting, gesturing with his hand for you to come over.

You chuckled and placed the popcorn on the table before joining them on the couch. As you settled in, you felt Max's arm rest casually behind you, a simple gesture that sent a thrill down your spine.

Montague then decided to plop himself down on your lap, grinning from ear to ear.

“Can I have some popcorn?” he asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Of course, little buddy!” you replied, scooping a handful of popcorn and offering it to him. He giggled, delighted.

As the movie began, you found yourself lost in the vibrant animation and the infectious songs. The familiar tunes filled the room, and soon, Olivia was singing along, her voice loud and enthusiastic.

Max joined in, his deep voice blending harmoniously with hers, and you couldn't help but smile.

“Isn’t this the best?” Olivia shouted over the music, her little hands dancing in the air.

“It totally is!” Montague agreed, leaning back against you. “Moana is my favorite!”

As you sat there, enveloped in the laughter and song, you couldn’t shake the thought that this moment felt like a family—your heart warmed at the idea of it. You looked at Max, who was entirely focused on the kids, his face lit up with joy.

The thought of a family with him, of laughter, love, and shared moments, flickered in your mind. You didn’t hate the idea; in fact, you found it rather comforting.

Max must have sensed your distraction because he leaned a little closer and whispered, “Don’t think for now; focus on the movie.”

His voice was low, a playful grin on his face as he nudged your shoulder with his hand.

You nodded, attempting to push the thoughts away, immersing yourself instead in the colorful world of Moana. But it was hard not to feel that flutter again as Montague snuggled deeper into your lap, and Olivia continued to sing her heart out.

Time slipped away, and when you finally woke, you found yourself fully lying on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over you.

As you blinked awake, your eyes adjusted to the sight of Max cross-legged at the table, Olivia and Montague by his side, helping them with their homework. They were distracted, giggling softly as they tossed playful glances at each other.

You decided to keep quiet, wanting to listen to their innocent chatter.

“So Maxie! Do you like my sister?” Olivia asked in a tone that was surprisingly confrontational for someone so small, though no one could mistake it for intimidating.

“Who?” Max replied, his brow furrowing in feigned confusion.

“Y/N! She’s basically my sister,” Olivia declared, her expression matter-of-fact, as if the truth of the universe had just been revealed.

Max’s eyes darted to you, and you felt your cheeks warm. “Oh, Y/N, it’s complicated,” he said, shrugging in a way that made you feel he was hiding something.

“Love can’t be complicated! If you like my sister, then you two should date! I think you two will look cute together,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly.

“I do like Y/N,” Max began, a smile creeping onto his face. “She’s pretty, and she makes me feel happy—”

Olivia’s squeal interrupted him, a piercing sound that made Montague cover his ears dramatically. “So you do like her!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You could feel your heart race, a mix of embarrassment and delight. It was one thing to think about your feelings for Max; it was another to hear him admit them so openly, even if it was to a seven-year-old.

You stretched, stretching the blanket away from your body, pretending to wake up. “What are you guys yelling about?” you asked, your voice thick with feigned sleepiness.

"Nothing," Max said, hastily shushing Olivia as she burst into giggles.

“Oh, uh, just some kid stuff,” Max said, his cheeks slightly pink as he averted his gaze from yours. You noted the small, shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and your heart raced again.

You had always liked Max. But tonight, hearing him confess to Olivia that he liked you stirred something deeper within you, a mixture of hope and fear that made you hesitate.

Olivia looked at you with wide eyes, the kind that meant she knew more than she should. “Y/N, Max said you’re pretty! And that you make him happy!”

Max's face turned a bright shade of red, and he quickly covered Olivia's mouth with his hand. “Okay, that’s enough of that! Let’s focus on your homework!” he said, trying to redirect the conversation.

You slipped off the sofa and moved to sit with them at the small dining table. “Let’s see that homework then,” you said, suppressing a smile.

As the three of you tackled Olivia’s math problems, the air was filled with laughter and the occasional playful bickering.

Every time Max’s hand brushed against yours while reaching for a pencil, electricity shot through you, making it hard to concentrate on the numbers sprawled out on the page.

After dealing with the homework, you decided to watch another movie as a reward for concentrating that long.

The atmosphere turned lighter, and as the movie started playing—Toy Story 3, an old favorite of theirs—Montague was already dozing off, snuggled against you.

You smiled, gently pushing his hair back as he slept.

Max leaned closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re really good with them,” he said, his gaze earnest.

You felt your heart flutter, and you turned to meet his eyes. “Thanks, Max. I really enjoy spending time with them and you too. It’s nice to take a break from everything else,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual even though you felt the weight of his words.

As the movie played on, Montague shifted in his sleep, and Olivia was slowly getting drowsy as well.

Max helped you tuck them into bed, his hand brushing against yours as you carried Montague upstairs. In the dim light of the hallway, you caught Max watching you, a soft smile on his face.

After you tucked Montague in and turned off the light, you returned to find Olivia snuggled under her blanket, her big eyes heavy with sleep.

“Goodnight, Y/N. And Max, too!” she mumbled, her voice fading into slumber.

Max turned to you, a warm smile lighting up his face. “You really are amazing with them. They adore you,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I love spending time with them. They’re like little sponges, soaking up everything.”

The evening had flown by, and you were pleasantly surprised by how easy it felt to be with him. You thought he would leave, but to your surprise, he headed to the living room, starting to clean up the popcorn mess from earlier.

“Are you not going to go?” you asked, your brow furrowing slightly as you watched him gather the scattered kernels.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied, looking up at you with those warm blue eyes that always seemed to find a way to melt the edges of your heart. “But if not, I’m going to clean this mess and then we’re going to talk.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding at the thought of what he might want to discuss. “Talk about what?” you asked cautiously, trying to mask your nervousness.

Max set the popcorn bowl down and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he regarded you.

“About Jake, what you’re going to do about it, and everything else,” he stated plainly.

You froze, the air thickening around you. You had thought that was a conversation you could avoid for a while longer to be face to face.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s just typical Jake, you know? He loves to stir the pot.”

Max sighed, clearly unconvinced. “It’s more than that, and you know it. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Why are you so invested?” You couldn’t help but challenge him, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s my mess to handle.”

“Because I care about you,” Max replied, his voice softening. “And I can see it’s bothering you more than you’re letting on. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You looked away, heart racing. You liked Max—really liked him—but the idea of him getting too involved in your drama felt like a lot to ask. “It’s just… complicated. I don’t want to drag you into my issues.”

“Too late,” he said with a slight grin, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m already knee-deep in popcorn and Jake drama. Might as well make a mess of it together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “That’s one way to look at it.”

After a moment of silence, you helped him clean up the mess of popcorn that had spilled onto the floor. As you gathered the stray kernels, he made you sit down and wait for him to finish cleaning. When he finally returned, he was holding two glasses of water, the cool liquid glistening in the light.

He handed one to you before sitting down beside you, his knees brushing against yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a moment, you forgot about the chaos surrounding Jake.

“So why do you want to talk about it?” you asked flatly, wishing he would drop the subject.

“Because I really needed to see if you were okay,” Max stated, his gaze steady. “I know we already talk about it on the phone, but you could have been lying.”

“What if I lie right now?” you challenged, a hint of defiance in your voice.

“Then I’ll know,” Max replied simply.

It was true. Max had a way of seeing through the facades you put up, his perceptive nature both comforting and unnerving.

“So what do you want to know?” you asked, taking a sip of water to buy yourself a moment.

“Are you really okay?” Max asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. “Honestly?” you sighed, finally allowing the vulnerability to creep in. “No, I’m not okay. Jake’s always been dramatic, but this… this is just too much. He’s painting me as the villain in his story.”

Max nodded, processing your words. “And it hurts.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, feeling a knot form in your throat. “It feels like everything I built with him is unraveling, and I’m left to pick up the pieces. I didn’t cheat on him, but no one’s going to believe me when he’s the one on TV.”

“People will believe you,” Max reassured you. “I believe you. I’ve seen the way you are, and it’s not like you to betray someone. Jake’s just trying to shift the blame.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your heart warming at his support. “It’s just so exhausting.”

You never thought it would come to this—a therapist’s office, the sterile smell of freshly cleaned upholstery, the soft hum of the air conditioning.

“Hello Y/N, I’m Dr. Sullivan. I’ll be your therapist. I’m sure Mr. Horner told you about me,” the woman said as she stood up to shake your hand.

“Good afternoon, yes, Mr. Horner told me about you,” you replied, your voice slightly wavering. You felt small, yet determined. You had made the choice to be here, to reclaim your life.

Dr. Sullivan gestured to her couch, and you took a seat, trying to find a comfortable position in the plush cushions. It felt strange to be here, talking to a stranger about the most intimate parts of your life.

“Why don’t we start by talking about what brought you here?” Dr. Sullivan suggested, her eyes gentle but probing.

You took a deep breath. “I… I’ve been struggling ever since my relationship with Jake ended. He wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was… he was everything. But he became controlling and abusive. I thought I could handle it, but… now it’s all falling apart.” You swallowed hard, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

Dr. Sullivan nodded. “It’s normal to feel this way after leaving an abusive relationship. Can you tell me more about the abuse?”

You hesitated, the memories flooding back. “He would get angry over small things, like how I dressed or who I hung out with. At first, I thought he was just protective, but then it became suffocating. He would shout and belittle me. I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time.”

Dr. Sullivan maintained a compassionate expression. “That sounds incredibly difficult. It’s understandable that you feel scared and anxious. This is not just about your past; it’s about your future, too. What do you want to feel instead?”

“I just want to feel normal,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to go out without feeling like everyone is judging me or thinking I’m a liar. I don't want to be having panic attacks when I see someone who looks shady because I think it's him.”

Dr. Sullivan leaned forward slightly. “It’s important to understand that what he said doesn’t define you. You are not a liar, and you did not deserve the treatment he subjected you to. We’ll work through these feelings together.”

As the session continued, you slowly opened up about everything—the fear, the shame, the isolation you felt after the breakup. Dr. Sullivan listened intently, offering small affirmations that helped you feel validated.

“Tell me about Max,” she said softly. “How does he fit into this?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the mention of his name. Max was your teammate, a kind and encouraging presence in your life. “Max has been my friend for a while now. He’s supportive and always encourages me to be better. I’ve never seen him as anything more than that…until recently.”

“Do you think there are feelings there?” Dr. Sullivan probed gently.

“I don’t know. I mean, after everything with Jake, I’m terrified of getting hurt again. But sometimes, when Max looks at me, I feel safe. It’s strange… like I can breathe for the first time in months.” You smiled slightly, lost in the thought of him.

“Exploring those feelings is an important part of your healing process,” Dr. Sullivan advised. “You don’t have to rush into anything, but acknowledging that you can feel something for someone again is a positive step.”

As you left the office that day, the air felt lighter. You were still plagued by Jake’s accusations, but you began to understand that his words didn’t dictate your worth.

You made a promise to yourself: to heal, to grow, and to allow yourself the chance at love again, even if it scared you. . . .

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

The paddock buzzed with excitement and nervous energy as the sun cast long shadows over the grandstands. The atmosphere was charged, as if everyone could feel the weight of the headlines swirling outside the circuit.

As you made your way through the bustling paddock, you felt a steadying presence beside you. Max walked with a casual confidence, his Red Bull cap pulled low, shielding his eyes but not his smile.

You couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him; despite the chaos of the past days, he always had a way of making everything seem more manageable.

“So, you think you’re going to be okay with the questions?” Max asked, taking a swig from his can of Red Bull as you both entered the hospitality room.

You sighed, the tension creeping back in. “Yeah, but you know they’re going to shoot so many questions. I’m not even sure what to say.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, giving you a reassuring nod. “I’ll help if it gets too much. Just look at me and I’ll step in.”

You shot him a playful glare. “I think that would just assist the rumors. The last thing we need is for people to think we’re a couple now, too.”

Max chuckled, a warm sound that lifted your spirits. “Well, that might not be the worst thing,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly. “But seriously, just stick to the facts. Ignore the drama.”

Before you could respond, a staff member approached, signaling it was time for the press conference. Your heart raced as you followed the staff into the room, where a group of journalists awaited, cameras flashing and questions ready to roll.

You took your place on the sofa, flanked by Yuki, Charles, and Alex. Max settled beside you, giving you an encouraging thumbs-up.

“Right, so let’s start now,” the interviewer said, eyes focused on you. “First question: What are your thoughts on the allegations made against you?”

You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around the microphone. “Well, I think it’s important to clarify that—”

“Are you currently in a relationship with Max?” a journalist interrupted, his tone cutting through the air like a knife.

You looked at Max, who raised an eyebrow, silently asking if you wanted him to step in. You shook your head slightly, determined to handle this on your own.

“No, I’m not in a relationship with Max,” you replied, your voice steady. “He’s my teammate and a great friend. The rumors are just that—rumors.”

Another journalist chimed in, “What do you have to say about your ex’s claims? Do you think they’re rooted in jealousy?”

A flurry of questions followed, each more intense than the last. But with every inquiry, Max’s steady presence calmed your racing heart. Every time you looked at him, you found reassurance in his supportive gaze.

The questions came flying at you like a barrage of arrows, each one aimed to wound. “Why do you think Jake would say something like that?” one reporter pressed, while another shouted, “Are you saying he’s lying?”

Taking a breath, you replied, “Jake is going through a lot right now, and I can’t speak for him. But I can tell you this: I have never cheated on him, nor would I. We broke up for reasons that were our own, and I wish him no ill will.”

You could tell Max was getting restless as they pressed further, so you decided to change the subject.

“Can we talk about the upcoming race instead?” you interjected, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m really looking forward to the challenges this circuit presents. It’s a fantastic track, and I think we have a great chance to show our skills.”

Max jumped in seamlessly. “Absolutely. I think our team has made some significant improvements since last season, and I’m excited to see how we can push each other on the track.”

The journalists seemed momentarily distracted by your shift in focus, jotting down notes and exchanging glances.

After a few more questions about racing and strategy, the conference finally began to wrap up. As you stood to leave, a reporter called out, “One last question! How do you feel about your ex’s accusations?”

You took a moment, glancing at Max, who was watching you intently. “I feel like it’s time to move on from that chapter. The truth will always come out, and I’m excited to focus on my career and the people who truly support me—like Max.”

As the press conference wrapped up, you stepped away from the cameras, the weight on your shoulders feeling a little lighter.

The chaos of the last few days—the headlines, the rumors, the betrayal—was still echoing in your mind, but at least now you felt like you had a little control over the narrative.

“You handled that really well,” Max said, his voice warm and encouraging as he fell into step beside you. He flashed a genuine smile that sent a flutter through your chest.

“Thanks,” you replied, a hint of shyness creeping into your tone. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Max’s support had been a lifeline.

“It’s nothing, really,” Max said, shrugging off your compliment as you both approached the conference room door. “I just hope it makes them shut up.”

He opened the door for you, and as you walked into the meeting room, you immediately felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. The team was gathered around the large conference table, and their expressions ranged from concerned to curious.

“Sorry we’re late,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you sat down in one of the seats. Max took the spot beside you, his presence calming. Christian was already there, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Good to see you both,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I watched the press conference. You did an incredible job.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I just tried to stay calm.”

Max nudged you playfully with his shoulder. “You were calm like a pro. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were born for the spotlight.”

You chuckled, trying to shake off the nervous energy. “I think the spotlight is the last place I want to be right now.”

“Totally understandable,” Christian said, glancing between you and Max. “It’s a lot of pressure. But you two handled it like champions.”

You nodded, but inside, your mind was racing. The press conference had felt surreal.

The meeting shifted to strategy for the upcoming race, but you found it difficult to concentrate. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Jake’s betrayal, the hurtful accusation that hung in the air like a bad smell.

You glanced at Max, who was animatedly discussing the course with Christian. His passion was palpable, and in that moment, you felt a tug at your heart.

You liked him. A lot. More than you had dared to admit.

“Okay, what do you think?” Christian asked, breaking through your reverie.

“Uh, sorry, what?” you replied, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had completely zoned out.

“About the race strategy,” Max said, smiling gently. “We’re thinking of tightening the turns on the first lap. You know, give us a better chance at the inside track.”

“Right, sounds good,” you nodded, trying to catch up. “That could definitely give us an edge.”

“See?” Max grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re back with us!”

As the meeting continued, you found yourself stealing glances at Max, a smile creeping onto your face whenever he laughed or made a point. The warmth between you was undeniable, but guilt lurked in the back of your mind.

How could you feel this way when your past was still hanging over you like a storm cloud?

When the meeting wraps up, you stand to leave, but then you hear Christian’s voice. “Y/N, can you stay back for a minute?”

Shit. That’s what you get for daydreaming during a meeting.

Max catches your eye and tilts his head, concern etched on his features. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a quick chat,” you say, forcing a smile, but inside, your stomach churns. You watch as he exits the room, leaving you alone with Christian.

“What’s up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

Christian leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his arms crossing over his chest, a gesture that always seemed to amplify his imposing presence.

He regarded you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before speaking, his tone smooth as silk, yet somehow it didn't reassure you. “I heard you went to Dr. Sullivan, how is she?”

The unexpected question caught you off guard, making you pause for a moment. You mentally retraced the events of the past couple of weeks, remembering Christian’s subtle recommendation of her after you had opened up about needing help navigating through your toxic ex.

“She’s helped quite a bit, actually, thanks for advising her to me," you replied, your voice a touch softer, a touch more genuine than you had intended.

He was trying, wasn't he?, you thought, even though the knot in your stomach stubbornly remained, a reminder of all that had happened.

A beat of a pause, then Christian stated, "Good, just so you know she will tell me if there is something serious going on," he warned, a playful seriousness lacing his tone.

A genuine chuckle escaped your lip, a small burst of the old you that you hadn’t seen in a while, "What? Are you my dad or something? I think I'm old enough to go talk to my therapist." you joked, your eyes sparkling in laughter. 

“I might as well be the closest to it,” he replied, a quiet tenderness coloring his features. His lips curled into a small smile, a fondness you hadn’t seen in a long time.

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as you peeled off your racing gloves, the leather still warm from the day's practice. Friday had been a revelation.

You’d practically glided around the track, the car feeling like an extension of your own body. No jitters, no second-guessing, just pure, unadulterated speed.

You’d attributed it to the release, the feeling of all the mounting stress finally draining out of you, leaving you light and free. You’d finally found your rhythm.

“Good run today,” a voice rumbled from behind you. You turned to see Max, his usual calm demeanor etched across his face. He leaned against the garage wall, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it was…good,” you echoed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

You liked seeing him like this - relaxed, confident, not burdened by the weight of expectations. “Felt like I could finally breathe out there.”

“You looked like it,” he chuckled, pushing off the wall and walking towards you to look at the data. “You were practically flying.”

You blushed, a little embarrassed by his observation. “Well, someone had to put on a show,” you teased, throwing a playful punch at his arm.

His gaze met yours, a flicker of something undefinable sparking in his usually placid blue eyes.

“You always put on a show, don’t worry,” he said softly, as he turned away, the comment hanging in the air between you, leaving you breathless and confused.

Saturday was an entirely different beast. The pressure had returned, tangible and heavy. It was in the air, in the hushed tones of the team, in the nervous energy buzzing around the paddock.

Max, however, seemed unfazed. He’d stormed through qualifying, each lap faster, more precise, culminating in a blistering pole position. You, on the other hand, had struggled to match his pace, despite your best efforts.

Third place wasn't bad, but it felt miles behind him.

The team, of course, was ecstatic. This was it. The culmination of years of hard work, the potential for a historic double victory hung heavy in the air.

If Max won tomorrow, he’d secure his second championship. And if you managed to finish in the points, Red Bull was so close to clinching the constructors’ title.

It was a monumental task, a pressure cooker of emotions.

"Mate! I swear you are so in love with her," Charles declared, leaning back against a wall, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Max's face flushed, a telltale sign that his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance was crumbling. "No, I'm not. I just... care for her," he stammered, avoiding Charles's gaze.

He busied himself with holding the red bull in his hands , anything to distract from the intensity of his friend’s scrutiny.

Charles chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "Right, 'care'. Do you think about her too often?"

Max hesitated, his mind flashing to recent moments: her reaching for something on a high shelf, the way her hair caught the sunlight as she walked across the paddock, the way she’d smiled after he'd helped her with the data.

He felt a heavy knot settle in his stomach. He let out a breath, resigned. "...Yeah," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

"Do you think you're protective of her?" Charles continued, pressing his advantage.

Max frowned. The word felt too strong, too possessive, not that that’s not exactly how he felt. “Not protective, but I like to be by her," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the ground as if the answers lay hidden in the cracks of the pavement.

He didn't want to be protective, he just wanted to be someone she could rely on, someone she could turn to.

Suddenly, Charles’s voice boomed, startling Max, “Oh hey, y/n!” he said, waving enthusiastically at someone behind Max.

Max's head snapped around, a strange mix of hope and panic surging through him. He nearly twisted his neck, trying to see if y/n was actually there, his hand instinctively moving to cover a nearby potted plant as he turned.

When he finally turned back, he found Charles doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach.

"I swear, you almost snapped your neck!" he gasped, tears forming in his eyes.

"Mate, not funny," Max grumbled, his cheeks burning hotter than before. He tried to ignore the way his heart was still pounding, a frantic hummingbird caught in his chest.

Charles wiped the tears from his eyes, his grin still wide. "But hey, I just did some tests on you, and I found out…" he paused for dramatic effect, raising his eyebrows.

"Found out what?" Max asked, his curiosity piqued despite his irritation.

"That you love her too much," Charles declared, his grin now bordering on mischievous. "You're a book, my friend. All the symptoms are there: the blushing, the constant thinking, the almost-neck snapping… It’s clear as day."

Max felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his chest.

He didn’t want Charles, or anyone else for that matter, to see the truth that was slowly coming to light. . . .

The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, a wave of sound that crashed over you as you unbuckled your helmet. The acrid smell of burnt rubber and hot metal hung heavy in the air of the parc fermé, a stark contrast to the champagne that would soon be flowing.

You pushed your helmet off, shaking your hair free, and your gaze immediately sought him. Max was already out of his car, his dark blue jumpsuit a beacon in the throng of team personnel and photographers.

His face, usually so tightly controlled, was lit with a grin that could rival the floodlights overhead. He’d done it.

Another championship secured.

A surge of warmth, something akin to pride and something more complicated, bloomed in your chest. It wasn't your win, but still, the sight of him like that—unburdened and triumphant—it was a sight you cherished.

You’d finished second, a bittersweet position after Lando's heartbreaking crash had bumped you up. The race had been a rollercoaster of emotions — tense overtakes, strategic tire changes, and then the shock of the yellow flags followed by the red.

You’d been locked in a tight battle with Lando, then suddenly, you were fighting to keep yourself in the second position. It felt hollow, a win by default.

But this was Max's moment, and you couldn't let the disappointment of your near-miss dull his shine. You pulled off your gloves and pushed through the crowd, a smile firmly plastered on your face.

Your eyes met his the moment he turned, and you noticed the flash of something akin to relief cross his features.

He pushed through the few team members still trying to reach him, making a beeline directly towards you.

“You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice a little higher than usual, the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Two-time champion! That’s incredible, Max!”

He engulfed you in a bear hug, his familiar scent of aftershave and something indefinable that was purely his filling your senses. He smelled like victory.

"Thank you," he said into your shoulder, his voice roughened by exertion.

"It was... it was a good race.” He pulled back, his hands still resting lightly on your arms. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, were filled with an uncharacteristic softness.

"You were fast out there, too. Second place after Lando… that sucks. But you did amazing to pick up the position so quickly.”

“It's okay,” you said, shrugging, though a small pang of disappointment still lingered. "It's your day, though. You deserve all the celebration.”

He shook his head. "No, not just mine. You fought hard. We both did.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering.

“You always do.” The way he said it, so intimately, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost as if he was saying something more than the literal words.

The photographers closed in, cameras flashing, and the moment was broken. Team members swarmed around Max, pulling him away for interviews and podium preparations.

You reluctantly stepped back, watching as he was swallowed by the throng. Your heart gave a funny little flutter, a feeling you tried to ignore, chalking it up to the adrenaline.

You were herded towards your own team, receiving pats on the back and words of encouragement. You went through the motions, half-listening to the congratulations, your eyes still straying towards Max.

He had finally broken away from Christian's chatter and was standing beside the race engineers, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened intently to their debrief.

You saw something flicker in his gaze when he caught your eye, a moment of shared understanding in the chaotic aftermath.

Later, during the post-race press conference, you answered questions distractedly, your mind still replaying Max's words, his touch.

You managed to give coherent answers, but the only thing you could remember was his voice resonating in your ears - “You always do.”

The podium was a blur. You remember the flash of the camera lights, the sea of upturned faces, and the deafening roar of the crowd. You stared at Max out of the corner of your eye as his national anthem played, his expression a mix of pride and exhilaration.

He looked utterly invincible, a king on his throne. And then it was your turn. The second place you took made you happy, but you felt like you could have done better.

Your own anthem played, and you tried to soak it in, but your eyes were drawn to Max again.

The champagne spraying was chaotic, a shower of bubbly and laughter. You decided to target Max first, aiming your stream directly at him, catching him in the chest.

He laughed, the sound loud and genuine, and retaliated in kind, soaking your jumpsuit in the sticky liquid. It was playful, a moment of shared joy and release, and you couldn't help but laugh with him.

The roar of the crowd was still a physical presence, thrumming in your chest even as the lights of the Las Vega circuit began to dim. It was a cacophony of joy, fueled by the sheer adrenaline of the race and the history that had just unfolded.

Max, his face flushed with victory, stood beside you, the sweat still clinging to his dirty blond hair, his breath coming in slightly ragged pants. Around you, the Red Bull crew was a sea of red and navy, their faces lit by pure, unadulterated elation.

You stood shoulder to shoulder, each of you holding one end of the banner that proclaimed "2X Champion Max P1 Y/N P2." You couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride despite coming in second.

The banner was a testament to your shared journey, the countless hours you both had poured into this season, culminating in this euphoric, unforgettable moment.

"Alright everyone, let's get this photo!" an admin yelled, their voice barely audible over the lingering cheers. "In 3, 2, 1!"

The number one was still hanging in the air when, with a collective roar, everyone erupted, and suddenly, a downpour of champagne came from nowhere. It cascaded down on you and Max, the cold liquid instantly soaking through your fireproofs, leaving you shivering and laughing at the same time.

You and Max, without a word, instinctively turned and ran, the wet track presenting a new, slippery challenge. It was pure chaos, a beautiful, ridiculous mess of laughter and celebration.

Just as your feet were about to slip out from under you on the slick asphalt, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back and steadying you. It was Max, his face close to yours, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Careful now,” he chuckled, his voice warm and low and suddenly, too close for your heart’s liking.

And then, the rest of the crew descended, a joyful, champagne-soaked mob, trapping you both in a giddy, bubbly circle. They all cheered, spraying you mercilessly, their laughter adding to the symphony of the night.

You found yourself looking into Max's eyes, a small smile mirroring his own. In that crowded, chaotic moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. The world melted away into the blurry, bubbly frenzy.

You had grown to admire him, his unwavering focus and talent, the genuine kindness that he often hid behind his competitive façade. You enjoyed his teasing, his relentless drive, and the rare, unguarded moments when his vulnerability surfaced.

You were brought back to reality as the champagne deluge began to subside. You were both drenched, your hair plastered to your scalp, your clothes clinging to your skin.

“Well that was… intense,” you finally managed, laughing, the bubbles still tickling your nose.

Max’s arm was still around your waist, his touch sending shivers not from the cold. He finally released you, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “Intensely fun, I’d say. You know, you almost took your own personal dive out there.” He grinned, playfully nudging you with his shoulder.

“Almost,” you retorted, shoving him back, a playful smile gracing your lips. “You weren’t much better. I saw you sliding like you were on ice.”

“Hey,” he protested, a mock hurt look on his face, “I recovered, didn’t I? Showed my champion agility.”

“Sure, champion agility while grabbing my waist so I won’t fall,” you teased, “I think you were just trying to feel me up.”

Max’s eyes opened wide and a small blush tinted his cheeks. “Hey, I was only trying to be a gentleman. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, the sound echoing in the near-silent garage. “Yeah right. You just wanted an excuse for an embrace.”

“Well, you’re not rejecting it are you?”

“No,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Max asked, leaning closer to you with a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, I said, let’s get out of these wet clothes,” you said quickly, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Good idea. I'm starting to feel like a drowned rat," he said, running a hand through his now-soaked hair.

He walked away and you followed behind him, your heart beating faster with every step closer to the driver’s room where you could finally dry yourself up.

The walk back was a bit surreal. It seemed like just moments ago, the tension had been so thick you could cut it with a knife. Now, there was this quiet ease between you two, a strange, comfortable bubble of celebration.

You found yourself stealing glances at Max, his still-damp hair forming tiny curls on his forehead, his shoulders relaxed, the weight of the race finally lifted.

He caught your gaze once, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, and you quickly looked away, your cheeks burning.

"You’re coming to the party after this, right?" he asked as he veered towards his driver’s room door, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, a little rough, but the easy tone sent a flutter through your stomach.

“The party?” you repeated, pretending to be surprised, even though you knew about it.

The team always celebrated after a big race, but for some reason, the idea of being in the same room as him, surrounded by the celebratory energy, was a little overwhelming.

“Yeah, the team’s hosting a private party. Everyone is invited, including you, so you better come,” he stated, a hint of playfulness in his tone. He paused, looking at you, his bright eyes sparkling with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"I don't know..." you started, your fingers nervously fiddling. You were desperate not to sound too eager, not to betray the feeling he had evoked so easily.

Your mind was a whirlwind of "yes, of course" and "no, it's too much", with the scales of indecisiveness tilting back and forth.

"That's not the right answer," Max said, his smile widening. He leaned against the doorframe, blocking your path, making it impossible for you to just brush it off, and your heart skipped a beat.

He was so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, and your brain seemed to have shut off, making it near impossible to form a coherent response.

"After a win like this, you should be celebrating with us. Besides," he lowered his voice, "I want you there."

The confession sent a shockwave through you. He wanted you there? Your mind reeled from the casual yet charged statement.

Was it just a friendly gesture, or did that small ‘want’ mean something more? You desperately hoped it was the latter, but pushed the thought aside so you wouldn't get ahead of yourself.

"Okay," you said, the word barely a whisper, and you felt a blush stain your cheeks. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"Great," he said, finally stepping aside and opening his door. "I’ll see you there then. Don't take too long getting ready." He winked and disappeared inside, leaving you standing there with a pounding heart and a stupid grin.

You finally made your way to your own room, the encounter playing over and over in your mind. He wanted you there. Those words kept echoing in your head. You tried to tell yourself it didn't mean anything, but deep down, you knew it did.

At least, you wanted to believe it did.

You stood in the bathroom, the steam from the shower wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You replayed the final buzzer in your mind, the roar of the crowd, and most importantly, the triumphant grin on Max’s face.

You hurried through the shower, your mind already racing to the night ahead. You quickly dried off, pulling a simple yet elegant black dress from your closet. It was the kind of dress that made you feel confident, yet effortless.

You smoothed it down, adjusted the delicate straps and quickly put on a pair of small heels; a last-minute addition to make it feel more celebratory.

Then, as you were putting on your lipstick, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Max, a single line: ’Club Zenith. See you there’ followed by an address. You grinned, your heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again.

You grabbed your keys and bag, rushing out of your apartment and hailing a taxi. The ride felt like an eternity, each traffic light a cruel delay. You kept glancing at your reflection in the side window.

You hoped the dress was ok and worried about whether it made you look too overdressed.

Finally, the taxi pulled up in front of Club Zenith. The bass thrummed even outside, a low vibration that resonated through you. Taking a deep breath, you paid the driver and stepped out, the city lights creating a dazzling backdrop to the building.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived. The club pulsed with a chaotic energy, a symphony of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You scanned the crowd, your eyes searching for Max amidst the throng of people.

And then you saw him, across the room, surrounded by a boisterous group of his teammates. He was laughing, his head thrown back, and you couldn't help the little surge of emotion that coursed through you.

He looked genuinely happy, relaxed, and a wave of affection washed over you. You took a deep breath and started to make your way towards him, feeling a little out of place amidst their triumphant celebration.

He spotted you almost instantly. His face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He excused himself from his group, making a beeline towards you.

“There you are,” he said, his voice a little louder to cut through the music. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, offering a small smile, surprised at how calm your voice sounded when inside you were a whirlwind of nerves and excitement.

“Good,” he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. “Come meet some people.” He gently placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you further into the crowd.

The touch was brief, but it sent an electric current through you, and you found yourself struggling to focus on the new faces and introductions he was making.

You were acutely aware of his proximity, the warmth of his skin, the subtle scent of his cologne.

The rest of the night was a kaleidoscope of conversations, laughter, and stolen glances with Max. You were introduced to his team members, their partners and friends who had flown in to see his victory.

He kept you close, making sure you were included, offering you a quick smile when he caught your eye across the room. He seemed so comfortable, so at ease, and his presence had a strange calming effect on you. You found yourself relaxing too, finally letting go of the nervous energy that had plagued you all day.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned slightly, and the music became a little less frenetic. You stood by the bar with Max, the flashing lights reflecting in his eyes making them seem even brighter.

“So, how does it feel?” you asked, leaning against the bar, a playful smile on your lips.

“How does it feel?” he echoed, tilting his head as he thought about it. “Pretty awesome, actually. A bit surreal. All that work, all those hours... and it paid off.”

“You earned it,” you said, nudging his arm with your shoulder. He deserved this, every single cheer, every congratulatory hug. You knew how hard he’d worked. “You did an amazing job.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You did a great job too.”

You laughed, a warm, melodious sound that filled the space between you. “Thanks Max.”

He glanced over to the bartender, quickly catching their attention. “Do you want a drink?” Max asked, having already grabbed a glass of virgin cocktail for himself.

“What, like a gin and tonic?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. He always joked about how predictable your choice of drink was to his.

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your heart flutter. “Sure! I’ll make it if you want?” He was grinning now, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Really?” you asked, feigning surprise. “You, mixing drinks? I’m not sure if anyone is ready for that.”

“Hey!” he protested, playfully shoving your arm. “I’m a man of many talents. Bartender extraordinaire is just one of them.”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” you said, trying to hide a smile. “Surprise me.”

He grinned, turning to the bar and asking the bartender for the necessary ingredients. He poured carefully, a concentrated look on his face, as if he were performing brain surgery rather than mixing a simple cocktail.

You watched him, your heart swelling with a strange mixture of affection and admiration. You liked him, more than just a friend. You always had, but you tried to just push it aside and appreciate his friendship instead. Tonight, that felt harder than usual.

He finished the drink, sliding it towards you with a flourish. “Ta-da! One custom-made gin and tonic, served with the finest victory vibes.”

You took the glass, a light smile playing on your lips. “I’m impressed,” you said, taking a sip. “Not bad, Max. Not bad at all.”

He leaned closer, his arm brushing against yours. “Only the best for you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low hum.

The proximity made your skin tingle and you found yourself focusing on the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light.

You glanced around, realizing that most of the other partygoers had started to leave. “It’s getting late,” you said, your voice a little breathless.

“Yeah, it is,” he murmured, his gaze locked on yours. “But we don’t have to go home just yet.”

There was a pause, a silent question hanging in the air between you. You knew what he meant and a thrill ran through you. Your breath hitched slightly, your heart fluttering like a trapped bird.

You took another sip of your drink and decided to just go for it. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music. "We don't."

He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes. He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, sending another shockwave through your body.

"Then let's not," he said, his voice soft and intimate.

You'd made your rounds, offering sincere praises to the team, sharing in the collective joy, but your eyes kept drifting back to Max. He was sitting on a plush, low-slung chair, a small island of relative calm amidst the boisterous revelry, waiting for your return.

You felt a peculiar pull towards him, an audacity bubbling beneath the surface that you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the celebratory atmosphere, the heady mix of adrenaline and alcohol, or perhaps it was something else entirely.

You weren't sure. You just knew you wanted to be closer to him, to break through the polite camaraderie and truly connect. As your conversation with a team mechanic finally wound down, your gaze locked with Max’s.

A small, almost hesitant smile graced his lips, and something in you snapped. Impulsively, you walked towards him, your movements feeling both deliberate and strangely detached.

You settled onto his thigh, facing him, your gaze unwavering. His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise – and something else you couldn't quite name – registering in their deep blue depths.

You saw his jaw clench slightly, a subtle reaction that only fueled your newfound audacity.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

It was a gentle question, laced with amusement and a hint of something more.

"Nope," you grinned, your heart beating a little faster. You leaned closer, the scent of his cologne, a crisp, masculine fragrance, filling your senses.

"Are you?" you teased, your voice a low murmur, your eyes locking with his.

His reaction was immediate and utterly captivating. You watched as a subtle panic flickered across his features, a blush rising to his cheeks. He looked away for a split second, trying to regain composure.

"No, I'm driving you to mines, Christian orders," he stated, his voice laced with a kind of frustrated urgency that made you want to laugh.

"Oh," you said, a playful smirk twitching your lips. "So, you're the designated driver for the night's festivities?"

He nodded, his gaze returning to yours, a hint of amusement replacing the initial panic. "Something like that."

The air crackled between you, charged with unspoken words and a palpable electricity. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, toying with a man who held a significant spot in your heart, and the fact that he was so close was making your heart beat faster.

You leaned in a little more. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. It was an action you wouldn't have considered if it wasn't for how you were feeling at that moment.

"And what if I didn't want to go home just yet?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the party.

His eyes narrowed, their blue depths swirling with something akin to confusion and desire. He swallowed hard, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Then what, exactly, would you propose we do?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, tinged with a raw edge that made your pulse race.

You took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne filling your lungs and somehow making you feel braver than you had any right to. “Can I kiss you?” you dared to ask, the words tumbling out, a little too quick, a little too raw.

Max looked shocked. His jaw went slack, and his eyes widened in surprise, a comical contrast to his usual cool demeanor. He glanced around at his team, a quick sweep of the room, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest of the couch.

“What if it gets out? I don’t want to have another rumour for you to deal with,” he said, his voice strained with concern.

The mention of the tabloids and the gossip columns made your stomach twist. You hated the way they hounded him, invading every aspect of his life.

“They won’t, it’s a private club, everything that happens here stays here,” you muttered, willing yourself to be confident, willing him to believe you.

He looked back at you, his gaze searching yours, trying to gauge your sincerity, your intentions. Then, he sighed, a mixture of resignation and anticipation in his posture.

"Just…one," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You barely registered his words before you leaned in, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb caressing the line of his jaw. The feather-light touch on your lips sent a jolt through you, a feeling that was both electrifying and incredibly comforting.

His lips were warm, soft, and tentatively seeking. The kiss was gentle, a tentative exploration, a silent question. It was the first time your lips were meeting, but you immediately knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

When you moved back, Max was completely red under the lights, a blush that spread across his cheeks, traveling down his neck. He looked like a teenager caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his ears flushed a deep crimson.

He quickly tucked his head into your neck, his arms wrapping around you, holding your back from not falling off his lap.

You chuckled, a soft, gentle sound, while rubbing his exposed neck, the skin warm and velvety to the touch. “See, it wasn't that hard,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Max muttered, placing a kiss on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. His grip on you tightened, as if afraid you would disappear.

You smiled into his hair, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the club's temperature.

You didn’t notice the rest of the team watching from afar, their faces lit up with knowing smiles. They’d seen the way you looked at each other, the way you moved together, the way you were drawn to each other like magnets.

They had all quietly placed bets on when you two would finally get together. As you kissed, they all knew that tonight, finally, their wait, and yours, was over. . . .

You didn't see the rest of the team observing, their faces conspiratorial in the dim light, their eyes flicking between you and Max like they were watching a tennis match.

They saw the subtle shifts – your body angling towards him, the lingering touch of his hand on your arm, the way your smiles seemed to mirror each other. They saw the unspoken tension, the pull that was as undeniable as it was unspoken.

Bets had been placed, whispered predictions of when the inevitable would finally occur. They watched, breaths held, as Max's face drew closer, as his gaze locked onto yours and, finally, as he kissed you.

The rest of the team exchanged triumphant looks and knowing nods. Tonight, they thought, it was finally happening.

But the next morning, everything was different. Or rather, nothing was. As you walked into the office, the memory of the kiss felt like a dream, fuzzy and distant.

You greeted Max with a casual "Hey Max," and he responded in kind. The ease of the club had vanished, replaced by a self-conscious awkwardness.

The team, however, their eyes full of expectation, watched you both carefully, a sense of bewilderment slowly creeping into their expressions. They’d been so certain.

The weeks that followed were a masterclass in miscommunication wrapped in a cloak of hesitation. You and Max acted as if that night had never happened.

There were stolen glances, moments of near-confession, but always, someone would pull back. It was torture to watch, the team felt. A silent, agonizing dance of ‘what ifs’ and unspoken desires.

You walked into the conference room for what you assumed was a regular weekly meeting, only to find the team looking at you with an odd mix of excitement and exasperation. The air was thick with tension, but not the same, nervous tension you were used to. This was more akin to a pot about to boil over.

Then came your birthday.

The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, washing over you in waves as you stood there, the sun beating down on the asphalt. You held onto the haphazard collection of presents, a ridiculous tiara perched precariously on your head, a bright pink sash proclaiming you "Birthday Girl" draped across your shoulder.

Lando had a knack for finding the gaudiest tiaras, and George and Alex… well, they were always the purveyors of ridiculous humor. The balloons were back in the paddock, along with the suspiciously large cake Carlos and Fernando had promised, but at least these little tokens of affection were portable.

“How does it feel racing here on your birthday?” The interviewer’s voice cut through the noise, microphone hovering near your lips. You tried to smile, knowing the cameras were trained on you, the world watching.

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, adjusting the tiara that threatened to slip over your eyes. “It’s always surreal to race, but on my birthday it’s… heightened, I guess.”

You laughed, a nervous sound, and gestured to the gifts you clutched. “It’s pretty special. I’m definitely feeling the love from the whole pit lane today.”

“The fans call you the grid’s princess, how does that make you feel wearing all these gifts from the grid?” they pressed, their pen poised above their notepad.

You felt your cheeks flush, a familiar warmth spreading up your neck. The “grid princess” moniker was a bit embarrassing, if you were honest, but it was also… endearing. “It’s… it’s kind of funny, actually,” you said, the word catching in your throat.

“I definitely don’t feel like a princess, especially not today in my race suit with my helmet. But I appreciate the sentiment. I think some of the guys might be taking it a bit too literally,” you added, glancing at the sash with humor in your eyes.

You could see Max speaking to Carlos in the distance from where you stood. You knew he was probably watching, the cameras probably on him too as he waited for his turn on the interview, observing.

He hadn't given you a present, not in the public eye anyway. He'd just given you a quick nod, a small smile at breakfast, then he'd gotten straight back to his pre-race routine.

You knew he was focused, that he wouldn't be distracted, and you respected that massively.

The interviewer asked one more question about your expectations for the race. You rattled off the usual platitudes about doing your best, about hoping for a clean race, about the challenges of the circuit.

But your mind kept drifting back to Max. His silence. His focus. You wanted to know what he was thinking.

Finally, the interview wrapped up, and you were released back into the controlled chaos of the grid. You made your way through the throng of people, the tiara feeling increasingly ridiculous, the sash a reminder of your self-proclaimed princess status.

As you approached the garage, you saw him. He was standing by his car, his back to you, but you recognized the set of his shoulders, the slight tilt of his head.

You took a deep breath, smoothing down your racing suit with a slightly trembling hand. "Hey," you said, your voice a little softer than you intended.

He turned, his gaze momentarily snagging on the tiara before meeting your eyes. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Happy birthday,” he said, his voice low, a rumble that vibrated somewhere deep inside you.

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. You felt self-conscious now you had closed the distance and were near him.

You didn't want to be just the grid's princess, you wanted to be seen by him. You subconsciously adjusted the garish pink sash, feeling your cheeks warm again.

"I almost didn't recognise you," Max said, his eyes flicking back to the tiara. He was trying to be light, you could tell, but you were still hyper aware.

You were desperate to not talk about the race. The pressure of the constructors hung heavy in the air, a silent weight that clung to everyone.

“You haven’t given me a present. Did I do something wrong?” You tried to sound as light and joking as possible, trying to hide the undertone of insecurity in your tone.

“I don’t know, did you?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile anyway. He always managed to make you smile.

"Maybe," you replied, matching his playful tone, "but I'm going to assume it's because you're holding out for something really special."

His smile widened, a genuine flash that made your breath catch in your throat. You'd known that smile for years; the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the slight lift of his lips that could make your heart feel like it was about to beat out of your chest.

"I'll give it to you after the race if you do good," he said, his gaze holding yours. The promise in his voice, the way he said it felt like more than just a casual comment.

You felt your cheeks flush. "You're being mysterious," you accuse, trying to sound unimpressed. But the truth was, your heart was pounding.

You knew he wasn’t a particularly sentimental person, but the anticipation of a gift from him, something chosen specifically for you, was intoxicating.

"Maybe," he said again, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Or maybe I just haven’t figured out how to wrap it yet."

You laughed, the sound light and free. With him, you found yourself capable of being yourself, something you appreciated so much.

“I hope it’s not a giant stuffed panda,” you quipped, referencing a childhood incident involving a particularly large stuffed animal and a rather embarrassing photo that still surfaced at family gatherings.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. It was a sound that was both familiar and yet still managed to set your stomach fluttering.

"No pandas, I promise. It's something a bit more…fitting." He let the words hang in the air, his gaze lingering on you.

The conversation was interrupted by the final call for the race. A wave of nervous energy coursed through you. You could feel the adrenaline starting to kick in.

You knew you needed to focus, put everything aside and race, but the thought of his ‘present’ after the race was intoxicating.

“I should go,” you said, a touch of reluctance in your voice. You wanted to stay, to keep talking, to continue basking in the warmth of his smile.

“Good luck,” he said. “I expect you to be fast out there.”

“Only if you are,” you retorted, a competitive edge creeping into your voice. “Wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of having it any other way,” he replied.

He watched you walk away, a smile playing on his lips again, his eyes lingering on you as you made your way towards your car.

The roar of the engine is a symphony in your ears, a familiar comfort in the chaos of the race. The world is a blur of color and motion, the other cars mere obstacles in your relentless pursuit of the finish line.

But there’s something else today, something that ignites a fire in your belly, a drive that transcends the normal ambition. A birthday present, he’d called it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The way he’d said it—the husky tone, the knowing look—had sent a shiver down your spine, a thrilling anticipation that has nothing to do with the race itself.

You glance at the rear-view mirror, more out of a subconscious need than any real tactical advantage. You know he’s there, somewhere behind you, always pushing, always a threat.

It’s a dance you’ve performed countless times, a delicate balance of rivalry and respect, but today, there’s something more. Today, there’s an undercurrent of something… warmer.

You can almost feel him, a presence that is both challenging and strangely comforting.

Your engineer, Joseph, crackles in your ear. “Pace is good, you’re opening the gap. Stay focused, you’re looking strong.” You acknowledge him, but your mind is elsewhere.

You steal another look at the mirror and can just make out his car, a flash of red in the periphery. His presence on the track is a tangible thing, a constant hum of energy that vibrates through you, as if he’s tethered to you by an invisible string.

The laps blur, each one bringing you closer to the finish, closer to the promise that awaits. You push harder, the engine screaming in response, every fiber of your being focused on the road ahead.

The final lap. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a frantic rhythm that matches the engine's roar. The checkered flag waves, a triumphant black and white blur.

You cross the line, a surge of adrenaline and relief coursing through you. You did it. You won. And on your birthday, no less.

You pull into parc fermé, the roar of the crowd a deafening wave. The team is waiting, a sea of familiar faces, cheering and clapping. You are surrounded by hugs and congratulations, the energy infectious.

You're grinning, almost giddy with the win, but your eyes are searching, looking for one particular face. He's not here yet. You know he's coming, he's been in the car behind you the whole time and the thought is not as frustrating as you thought it should be.

Max is a few minutes behind, which is strange. Typically he’s right there.

You pull off your helmet, the noise of the crowd becoming a little clearer. You feel a hand on your shoulder. "You were incredible out there today," Joseph tells you, still wide-eyed from the race.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of you. "I had to be, after all." You glance to the side to see if you can see Max anywhere.

The next few minutes pass in a whirlwind of celebrations, wild yelling, team members patting you on the back and laughing. The victory is sweet, especially on your birthday.

You keep your eye on the road where Max will arrive, and finally, you see his car pulling it. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the giddy fluttering in your chest.

He pulls up to the stall next to you, and gets out of the car, pulling off his helmet. He looks a little frustrated, but when he sees you he smiles. It's a small smile, not the ones he does for the cameras.

It's a smile that makes your heart soften a bit. He walks over, his eyes sparking with something that seems suspiciously like amusement.

"Second place isn't bad, eh?" he says, his voice a low rumble that sends another shiver down your spine.

You raise an eyebrow. “Second place for you is like admitting defeat, isn't it?” you joke, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that makes you want to hear it again. "Only when I'm behind you,” he says, his eyes locking with yours.

The words hang in the air, charged with an undercurrent that you can’t ignore.

Before you could formulate a response to his suggestive comment, another car pulled up. It was Lewis, a smile on his face. He seemed happy enough with his third-place position.

“Great race,” Lewis said, dabbing you up with his fist. “Also, happy birthday,”

“Thanks, Lewis,” you grinned before letting him go. You chugged down some water, and placed the Red Bull hat on your head, making sure the logo was front and centre, before making your way over to the interview area.

"Y/N! how does it feel winning on your birthday?!" Nico asked cheerfully, holding the microphone up to you.

"It's amazing! I'm so incredibly happy, what a way to celebrate!" you said, the smile on your face was honest and you knew it was genuine. Winning a race was always an incredible feeling, but winning on your birthday was an extra special type of happiness.

"Have you gotten everything you wanted?" Nico asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Well, I've gotten everything I could ever want. A win, lovely fans, and a great car! I'm expecting a gift from Max though, he might not give it to me because he lost against me," you teased, glancing to your side to see Max grinning at your comment, giving a thumbs up.

Your heart did a little flip as you made eye contact with him.

"Well, I'm sure he will get you something," Nico chuckled before turning back to you. "So, talk me through the race, what was the turning point?"

You went on to talk about the race, the specific moments where you pulled ahead, the strategies that had paid off. You could feel Max’s eyes on you as you spoke, making it difficult to concentrate, but, you managed to get through it. You smiled at the camera as Nico finished the interview and thanked you.

Suddenly, amidst the cheering of the crowd, a familiar melody filled the air. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." The crowd started singing, their voices a wave of happy noise washing over you.

Your eyes darted around, a smile spreading across your face. This was such a beautiful moment, you felt overwhelmed with joy.

You looked over to see Max looking at you, and he had a soft gaze, which made your heart melt. He mouthed 'Happy Birthday', and you felt a small blush rise to your cheeks.

After the official ceremonies, the post-race frenzy began to settle, you found yourself heading towards the Red Bull hospitality area, the buzz of the celebrations still clinging to you.

The air was thick with the smell of champagne and victory, a potent cocktail of exhilaration. You were just about to grab a drink, to raise a toast to the day, when you felt a hand on your arm, gently turning you around. Your eyes met a staff member, her smile warm and inviting.

"Hello, Y/N," she said sweetly, her voice cutting through the remaining noise, "Christian told me to come get you."

A small knot of curiosity tightened in your stomach.

You nodded, a slight question mark hanging in your eyes, and followed her.

She led you away from the main throng, down a corridor you hadn't noticed before. The air grew quieter, the noise of the celebration fading with each step. You found this space intriguing.

Then the staff member pushed a door open and you stepped inside a dark room, a confused frown creasing your forehead. Before you could even form a question, the lights went on.

"SURPRISE!" a chorus of voices yelled. You blinked, suddenly blinded by the brightness, before your vision adjusted and you took in the scene.

There they were, all of them: Sarah, the engineers, the mechanics, even some of the other drivers, their faces alight with laughter and excitement, all shouting “Happy Birthday!”. It was almost too much to take in.

A wave of warmth spread through you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the recently illuminated room. This was… incredible. You’d been so focused on the race, so caught up in the pressure of the weekend that you'd almost forgotten about your birthday. To see so many people, people you worked with, people you considered friends, all gathered here, just for you... it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

Christian stepped forward, a hand landing heavily yet affectionately on your shoulder. "We've been planning it for a while now," he said, his grin infectious. "We knew the race fell on your birthday, so we figured a little surprise was in order." He paused, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Thought you deserved something special."

You couldn't stop smiling. You knew he was right, this was something special. You spent the next little while weaving through the crowd, making small talk, thanking everyone profusely for their efforts.

From the enthusiastic pats on the back from the mechanics to the genuine smiles from the engineers, every moment was a balm to your heart. You received a thoughtful gift from Sarah, a personalized scrapbook with pictures of the both of you since you two started being friends, and shared a laugh with a few of the drivers as they teased you about how old you were getting.

Every gesture, however small, made you feel appreciated and valued, more than just a driver on the team. For the first time all week, you felt completely at ease.

But then, a nagging question began to form, a question you couldn't ignore. Amidst the cheers and congratulations, one face, a face you’d been hoping to see, was conspicuously absent.

Where was Max? You searched the room again, your eyes scanning the crowd, but he wasn’t there.

Finally, when you felt you could politely excuse yourself from the crowd, you found Christian standing by one of the tables. You approached him hesitantly, a hopeful lilt in your voice.

"Hey, Christian," you said, "this was amazing, seriously. I, uh, just had a question. Do you know where Max is?"

Christian's grin widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Max is doing something in that room," he said, his voice a low murmur, pointing to a door at the far end of the corridor.

Then he winked, a gesture that made your stomach do a weird flip. "He said he had a 'special project' going on."

Your heart pounded in your chest. A ‘special project’? You nodded slowly, thanking him with a smile, but inside, anticipation was building. You began to walk towards the door, your steps feeling lighter than usual.

As you passed the others, you noticed their eyes were on you, their faces lit with knowing grins. Did they know something you didn’t?

A flush crept up your neck, your cheeks warming as you imagined what ‘special project’ Max could be working on.

You found yourself standing before the door, your hand hovering over the handle. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter in your chest. 

You had no idea what to expect on the other side of this door, but the feeling of nervous excitement was almost overwhelming.

The anticipation had twisted your insides into a tight knot, but you decided you weren’t going to stand here all day. You turned the handle, and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, only a few scattered tea lights illuminating the space. The change from the bright, harsh lights of the paddock was disorienting for a moment.

You could hear soft music playing, something instrumental and calming, a melody that seemed to wrap around you like a warm hug. And in the center of the room, stood Max. He was facing away from you, his broad shoulders tense, his posture almost rigid.

He wasn't wearing his usual Red Bull shirt, instead opting for a simple black t-shirt. It was jarring to see him out of his racing suit - he looked almost vulnerable.

“Max?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He turned around, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. He was holding a bouquet of vibrant red and blue roses, the colours stark against the soft light, and his face was… soft.

Not the usual hardened mask you were used to seeing on the racetrack, the intense focus replaced with something almost childlike. He looked nervous, almost hesitant. It was an expression you had never seen before.

His eyes, usually so intense, held a different kind of fire, a nervous vulnerability that made your heart do a strange little flip.

“Y/N!” he said, the usually booming voice tight with what you realized was panic. “These are for you,” He offered the bouquet, his hands trembling slightly.

You reached out and took them from him, your fingers brushing against his. The contact sent a shiver up your arm, not unpleasant, but definitely unexpected.

“Really? No one’s ever bought me flowers before,” you muttered, your voice a breathless whisper as you inhaled their sweet perfume.

The roses were a beautiful mix of classic red and a deep, almost electric, blue. It was unusual and completely fitting of the man who stood before you.

“Yeah, and there’s more,” he said, fixing his cap, a nervous gesture you recognized, though you couldn’t remember him ever being nervous before.

“Really? This is more than enough, you know,” you replied, feeling a tear prickle the corner of your eye. Not because you were sad, but because this unexpected gesture felt like something out of a movie.

Did this really happen to people? Did this happen to you?

“Nothing, of course, is enough for you, Y/N, you should know that,” Max stated with a small, genuine smile that sent a bolt of warmth right through you. His gaze was intense, locking onto yours, making the room feel smaller, more intimate.

You felt your cheeks flush once more, the warmth spreading across your skin. “I… I don’t know what to say.” You looked down at the roses, suddenly feeling flustered.

It was one thing to work alongside Max on the track, but this? This was completely different territory.

He stepped closer, and you looked up, your eyes meeting his. He was closer than he had ever been before. “Say you like them,” he said softly, his voice a husky murmur that echoed in the quiet room.

“I… I love them, Max. They’re beautiful,” you confessed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat and you felt that butterfly feeling flutter in your stomach.

You looked down at the bouquet again, the vibrant colours a stark contrast to the soft atmosphere of the room.

“Good. Cause I picked each one of them,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He reached out and gently touched your arm. “Look, I… I’m not good at this. This whole… thing.”

You chuckled, a soft sound that echoed in the room. “You’re doing a pretty good job so far, Max,” you said, finding your voice as you looked up into his eyes again. “Flowers, soft music, dimmed lights… it’s all very… thoughtful.”

He let out a soft relieved exhale, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Thoughtful? That's good,” he said, “I was hoping for thoughtful. The guys told me I needed a ‘good vibe’ and they weren't specific of what that vague term meant."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking endearingly flustered. “Okay so… this isn’t just about flowers, Y/N.” His gaze intensified. “I asked you here… because… because I wanted you to know… that I like you. A lot. More than I like fast cars, maybe even more than winning. Which is saying something.”

Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected, and your mind scrambled to catch up. It wasn’t as if you hadn't felt something between you two, a subtle pull that resonated every time you were near, but to hear it spoken aloud, so candidly, so… him… it was a shock.

“Oh. Oh no, no no, you don't-” you stammered, your hand flying to your mouth.

“What?” Max said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“You don’t want to like me, I am no good,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

The admission felt like a confession of a dirty little secret you’d been holding onto for far too long. But it was true, look at what happened to Jake.

“But I do,” Max said, his gaze unwavering. He leaned forward slightly, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and concern.

“Yeah, no, I’m sorry, I can’t- you can’t,” you insisted, shaking your head, trying to force some sense back into the situation.

You could feel the panic rising in your chest, a familiar feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while, but now this.

“Why?” Max asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion. The easy laughter that usually danced in his eyes was completely gone.

"Because I said – I am no good!" you said, your voice rising with a touch of desperation. You wanted him to understand, you needed him to understand.

“What do you mean? I can’t just stop liking you because you told me to!” Max said, there was a glint of annoyance now, a sign that he was not going to give in easily.

He was the kind of man who went after what he wanted and that was becoming more apparent than ever.

“Well, you will have to! Because I don’t- I’m not doing this. You don’t get to just...throw this at me!” you said, your hand moving wildly in the air, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“W-what, now you’re just being mean, if you don’t like me just say so,” Max said, the confusion morphing into hurt, and it hurt you to see the hurt in his eyes as they looked into you.

“I do! -like you… And- and that’s the problem,” you whispered, the admission ripped raw and honest.

You hated how vulnerable you felt in this moment, how naked your emotions were, laid bare before him.

“What are you even saying, I don’t get it,” Max said, his voice laced with frustration. This conversation had taken a turn he certainly hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m saying we can’t, not right now, hell, not ever,” you said, the finality of the statement solidifying the fear that had been swirling in your stomach into a concrete truth.

You walked over to the nearest table and placed the bouquet down before walking to the door, your hands shaking as you reached for the door handle.

You could feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of his confusion pushing down on your shoulders.

“Y/N, wait!” Max’s voice was behind you, but you kept walking faster now. You couldn’t let him see the tears that were threatening to spill, the vulnerability you guarded so fiercely.

You had to get away. You had to escape this room and the feelings it was causing, before you broke down completely.

“Please,” he said, his voice softer now, his steps quickening till he was right behind you, his gaze unwavering, “Just… explain. Tell me what’s going on. I… I don’t understand.” He was close now, almost too close, and you could feel yourself start to crumble.

You stopped, your hand still on the doorknob, and turned to face him. You searched his eyes, saw the genuine care there, the utter confusion. You knew you owed him that much, at least.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that could convey the turmoil inside you without completely breaking down.

“Max,” you began, your voice raw with emotion, “You… you’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and… and ridiculously talented. And that’s… that’s the problem.” The words felt inadequate, like they failed to capture the depth of your internal turmoil, but it was the best you could do.

His brow furrowed further. “But… I don’t understand. You’re saying I’m too… good for you? That’s ridiculous, Y/N.” He moved closer, his hand hovering near your arm, unsure if he should touch you.

“No, it’s not that!” You insisted, your voice cracking. “It’s… it’s me. I’m… messed up. I’m… a disaster waiting to happen. I ruin everything I touch, everything I care about.” You felt your throat tighten, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I can’t… I can’t do that to you. You deserve better. You deserve someone… someone who is not me.” The confession was like a dam breaking, the words pouring out, unfiltered and raw.

You’d finally said it. After weeks of agonizing, of rehearsing lines in your head, of second-guessing every feeling, you’d admitted your insecurities.

You’d spilled the messy truth about how you felt undeserving, how you believed that he, Max – kind, intelligent, and impossibly handsome Max – could, should, find someone better than you.

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, taking in the vulnerability that you were so desperately trying to hide. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, gentle, almost a whisper.

“Y/N,” he started, his own vulnerability showing through, "I don't understand where this is coming from. I know you are the kindest and most amazing woman I know." He paused, taking your hand in his, as though wanting to give you his strength. "I don't want better, I want you, just you."

“But…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, the weight of your fears and insecurities still present, but somehow… smaller, diminished by the way he spoke, the vulnerability he showed and how gently he held your hand.

“No buts,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips, that nervous, sweet smile that made your heart twist.

“Just… tell me what to do. Tell me what I need to prove to you. Give me, give us, a chance. Please.” His eyes sparkled with hope, pleading with you to just… trust him. Just a little bit.

You looked into his eyes and you knew that you couldn't walk away. You knew that this would most likely end up breaking you, hurt you in ways you couldn't imagine, but his eyes, they held you captive.

You had only one answer so you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to organize your thoughts, to be as transparent as possible.

“It’s not that I don’t want this, Max. I do.” You say, your voice is soft, hesitant. “I like you, I really like you so much that it scares me, a lot.” The truth hangs in the air, vulnerable and raw, and you brace yourself for his reaction. Any reaction but the one he gives you.

He doesn't flinch or pull away. Instead, he squeezes your hand and smiles, that disarming, melting smile. "I think, if we work through it together, we might just make it. I think, that if we try, you will see, that whatever you are going through, you don't have to go through it alone. I want to be there for you, through it all."

His words are like a balm, soothing the anxieties that have been gnawing at you. It's not just the words themselves, but the way he delivers them, the sincerity in his voice, the unwavering look in his eyes.

He's not promising you a fairytale, he understands that the reality will come with challenges. But he’s offering you companionship, partnership, in navigating those challenges together.

A small smile plays on your lips as you look at him, hope blossoming in your heart. Maybe this would work out. Maybe you could finally be happy. But the fear still lingers, a quiet voice whispering in the back of your mind.

“But… what if I mess it up? What if I’m not good enough?” Your voice is barely a whisper, the insecurities finally bubbling to the surface. You feel so vulnerable to his gaze and the way he carefully holds your hand, like you are a precious glass.

Max’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gentle, grounding motion. “Y/N, you are more than good enough. You are amazing. And we all mess up. That’s part of being human. The point is, being able to say you're sorry, learn from it, and continue to move forward. Besides, we’ll make mistakes together, learn and grow together.”

His smile widens, adding, “And who knows, maybe those mess-ups will be some of our best memories.” He chuckles, a sound that always makes your heart flutter.

You felt like crying again, a mix of relief and overwhelming emotion flooding through you. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, seeking comfort in his warmth.

“I'm sorry for trying to push you away,” you muttered against his skin, the words muffled.

Max rubbed your back, his touch light and comforting. “Don’t apologise after what you’ve been through. I, of course, was never going to let you go,” His voice was quiet, his sincerity palpable. You pressed closer to him, feeling incredibly safe in his arms.

The fear was still there, a low hum in the background, but it was now overshadowed by his presence.

You pulled back slowly, your cheeks flushing slightly. The boldness of the previous confession had temporarily left you, and suddenly shyness enveloped you.

You felt the flutter of your eyelashes, the nervousness of the moment. "Can... can I kiss you?" The question was soft, barely audible, but it hung in the air between you.

Max grinned, a radiant, dazzling expression that made your heart skip a beat.

"Of course, schat," His response was immediate, filled with affection. Schat. It was a term of endearment he often used, a Dutch word meaning "treasure" or "darling," and it always made you feel safe and cherished.

You moved towards him, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding. It wasn't a passionate, desperate kiss, but a soft exploration, a gentle reaffirmation of the connection that had always been there, humming beneath the surface.

When you pulled back, your gaze locked with his, and you felt a warmth spread through you, dispelling some of the lingering fear.

“I like you, Max. A lot,” you said, your voice a little shaky, your cheeks still warm. You felt vulnerable, laying your feelings bare like this, but it also felt incredibly right.

He reached up, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I like you too, Y/N, more than you know,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection. He had waited patiently for you, had given you the space you needed, and had never once wavered in his affections.

You knew, without a doubt, that he was someone who would always be there, no matter how difficult things got.

A nervous energy seemed to buzz around him as he took in another breath, the kind that a teenager would have before asking his crush to prom.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice laced with a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded, your smile widening as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend,” you replied, the words flowing easily and naturally.

It felt as if that had always been the plan, like everything had been leading up to this very moment.

A relieved sigh escaped him, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his touch sending a wave of warmth along your skin.

"Great," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Because your second present would have been awkward."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, silver object. It glinted in the dim light – a key.

“Max…” you started, confusion and a touch of incredulity mixing in your voice.

“It’s my house key, of course. You need a key to get in when I’m doing something else, like sim training,” he explained, his tone casual, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He offered the key to you, his eyes filled with an innocent earnestness.

That was the tipping point. The dam broke. You felt a lump form in your throat, and tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You were crying. Not the dramatic kind of crying, but the quiet, choked-up kind that comes from being overwhelmed by emotion.

“Schat! I’m sorry! Don’t cry,” Max said, his voice filled with concern. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You buried your face in his neck, letting the tears fall freely.

His embrace was grounding, his hand gently stroking your back, a soothing rhythm against your trembling form.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. "What is it? Did I say something wrong? I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sounded genuinely panicked, and a part of you felt guilty for making him worry.

You pulled back slightly, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. "No, no, it's not you," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… it’s a key, Max. And it’s such a... you thing to do.” You chuckled slightly, the sound shaky and watery.

He looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “But you need a key to get in. I mean, what if you wanted to come over and I wasn’t home yet? I wouldn’t want you to be waiting outside.”

“That’s… exactly what I meant,” you said, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. “You just… you think of everything.” The fact that he had already considered you needing the key, the fact that he was already thinking about you coming over and feeling safe… it was all just too much.

He looked at you as if he couldn't comprehend why you'd be crying at that, and that was the most endearing thing you had ever seen.

“I thought you wouldn’t like it,” he admitted, his voice small. “I wasn’t sure if it was too much, too soon. But… I really wanted you to have it. So you can feel like… you can feel like a home when I’m not home.”

His confession was raw, honest, and laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently against his cheekbones. "I love it, Max. I really love it," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "It's... it's more than I could have ever asked for."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not upset?” he asked, his voice still tinged with worry.

You shook your head, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “No, I’m not upset. I’m… overwhelmed. In the best way possible.” You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the reality of the moment sink in. “You’re amazing, Max.”

He mirrored your smile, his own eyes lighting up with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “So, the key?” he asked, holding it out again.

You took it from him, the metal cool against your palm. “It’s perfect,” you said, your gaze locking with his. “Thank you, Max.”

He pulled you close again, wrapping you in a tight, comforting embrace. "You're welcome, schat," he whispered, his voice muffled against your hair. "Does this mean you'll try my cooking for dinner this time. Since you'll have the key and all?"

You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. "Only if you promise not to set the kitchen on fire."

He pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. "No promises, but I'll try my best," he said with a grin.

The dim room no longer felt oppressive, but warm and safe. The fear, the uncertainty, all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of belonging, of love, of home.

You held the key, not just a key to his house, but to his heart, and suddenly, everything felt right.

You reached the doorway and stepped out, the bouquet leading the way. You expected the hushed silence of an empty hall, perhaps the echo of distant conversations. What you didn't expect was the wall of faces that greeted you.

The entire hall, which you had assumed was deserted, was lined with people, their eyes all fixed on the corner where you and Max had emerged. Their expectant gazes, a mixture of delight and curiosity, made your cheeks flush with heat.

Silence hung heavy, thick with unspoken questions, then, like a dam bursting, the cheers erupted. Shouts, whistles, and clapping filled the hall, their collective voice a tidal wave of delighted celebration.

You felt your face grow hotter, and your grip tightened on the bouquet, the stems pressing into your palm. This was not how you envisioned this moment. You had expected the awkwardness to occur in the small room, not right here, under the scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes.

You turned, your gaze searching out Max behind you. He was a study in sheepish charm, his cheeks flushed a shade darker than yours, his eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and something that looked a lot like exhilaration.

He shuffled his feet for a moment, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, before meeting your gaze with that familiar, gentle smile of his.

"They helped me confess," he said, his voice a quiet murmur that barely reached your ears over the continuing cheers, "I… I didn’t think I could do it alone.” He looked away for a brief moment before looking back into your eyes. "They knew you were in the room."

The pieces clicked into place. The hushed whispers you’d overheard earlier, the strangely insistent nudging toward the small room, the seemingly innocent way to get you to Max – it had all been meticulously orchestrated.

Your first instinct was to feel embarrassed by the blatant manipulation, but the warmth in Max’s eyes melted your irritation away. They had done it for him, and for you.

They had recognized something before you had even allowed yourself to truly believe it.

"I... They did?" You managed, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt the bouquet tremble in your hand, its vibrant colours suddenly feeling like a spotlight on your face.

He nodded, a faint grin spreading across his face. He straightened his posture and looked at you with an earnest look on his face, "Yeah. I told them how I felt about you, and they all decided that I needed a little push."

He took a small step closer, his hands coming out of his pockets to gently rest on your arms. "I know it's kind of awkward right now but..."

"Awkward?" You laughed, a surprised sound that cut through the noise. "Max, the entire office is watching us, and they're practically throwing a party. This is beyond awkward."

He chuckled softly, his thumb gently stroking your arm. "Okay, maybe slightly more than awkward, but I wouldn't change it for anything. Not now that I can finally say that I’ve been completely and utterly smitten with you for months, now that you know, and now that you… well…”

He trailed off, his eyes shifting to the flowers you held before meeting your gaze again. “You said yes. In the room. Right?"

You felt a giddy warmth spread through your chest. You did say yes, didn’t you? It had all happened so fast, the nervousness, the confession, the kiss.

Your mind, still reeling, struggled to keep up with the rapid turn of events. You hadn't really processed the magnitude of it all, not yet, not with so many eyes on you.

"Yes, Max," you said, your voice steadier this time. "I said yes."

A grin bloomed across his face, lighting up his features. It was a grin you’d seen countless times, but this one, this one felt different, more intimate, reserved just for you.

"Well you can thank them if you want to," Max grinned, gesturing vaguely to the throng of people gathered behind him.

You heard laughter and some shuffling through the crowd before Lando and Charles appeared in front of you, their grins equally wide. Their appearance, and the knowing looks in their eyes, sent a fresh wave of bewildered warmth through you.

"Hey Y/N! I'm guessing he finally did it," Lando teased, nudging Max playfully in the ribs.

"No way! You knew too?" you asked, surprised. You had genuinely thought Max’s clumsy confession and the subsequent proposal were a spontaneous act, an outpouring of feelings he could no longer contain.

The revelation that it had been a calculated performance added another layer of bewilderment.

"Of course, I did! I helped with it the most," Lando declared proudly, puffing out his chest slightly.

Charles immediately scoffed. "No mate, I did," he said, matching Lando’s posture with narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms, clearly in the mood for a playful argument.

"Actually it was Daniel that thought of most of it," Max corrected, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched his friends bicker.

"Daniel?" you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Daniel Ricciardo? The notoriously jovial Australian was the mastermind behind this entire thing?

You were beginning to feel like you were living in some bizarre, slightly surreal rom-com.

Just then, the door opened from the other side of the room and a familiar voice boomed, "Heya! Am I too late?"

You turned to see Daniel standing in the doorway, his signature grin plastered on his face.

"Nope Daniel, you're just in time," Max yelled back, his voice full of genuine joy. The room was suddenly buzzing with life, with laughter and light, and you felt a strange sense of belonging, of being caught up in something bigger than just you and Max.

You took a shaky breath, grounding yourself in the reality of the moment. He was yours, and you, in a dizzying but wonderful twist of fate, were his.

"Okay, so here's the thing," Daniel started, clapping his hands together in a way that demanded attention. "Max came to us, months ago, practically begging for help. He was a lovesick puppy moping about how amazing you were and how he was too scared to actually do anything about it."

Your cheeks flushed crimson, the image of the usually confident Max reduced to a moping puppy both adorable and hilarious.

You glanced at him, a playful smirk forming on your lips. He just shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face.

"We tried subtle hints, we tried blatant pushes, we even tried a completely ridiculous interpretive dance,” Charles interjected, his face scrunching up in a grimace. “That was… not our finest hour."

"Oh god, please don't remind me of that" Lando said, cringing slightly, "we were terrible"

"And finally," Daniel continued, "after months of agonizing, Max decided he was going to pull out the big guns so to speak." He winked at you. "Hence the very public, yet very romantic, proposal."

"It wasn't that public!" Max protested, but his voice held no real conviction. "Only like, half the paddock knew about it."

"Yeah, half the paddock who all happen to be great conversationalists," you said, laughing.

You wrapped your arm around Max's waist, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours.

"So, you knew?" You looked at Max, a hint of accusation in your eyes.

"I… might have had a little bit of help," he admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “But the feelings, those were one hundred percent mine, Y/N. Every single smitten, completely ridiculous, hopelessly in love bit of them. I just…” he paused, his gaze searching yours for something.

“I really wanted it to be special. For you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was looking at you, the way a person looks at home, with a mixture of comfort and longing.

The room faded into the background and it was just you, and him, the weight of everything that had just transpired, and the overwhelming happiness swelling in your chest.

"Well, it was special," you said softly, and then, just for him, you added. "It was perfect."

He leaned in and kissed you. It was soft, gentle, like the first kiss all over again, but with a depth that the first hadn’t held. He pulled away, his thumb caressing your cheek.

"So, you really said yes?" He asked again, a playful lilt in his voice.

"Yes, Max," you laughed. "I really said yes. And you can thank your friends all you want but I was saying yes to you, to us. Not them."

You looked at the friends, still standing there and smiling and you could see that, despite the playful teasing and back and forth, they all seemed genuinely happy for you.

And in that moment, you knew that this room, those people, this bizarre and wonderful moment, was where you belonged. You were surrounded by people who loved you, who cared for you, and who were just as excited about your future as you were.

But most importantly, you were with him, the man who had made you feel like the most cherished person in the world. . . .

The worn floral print of Christian and Geri’s spare bedroom felt a little too familiar, a little too much like a childhood bedroom you’d long outgrown. The chipped paint on the windowsill, the baby blue coloured walls – they all seemed to be silently judging the contents of the open suitcase on the floor.

It was a suitcase, you realized with a sigh, that Olivia, a tiny force of nature with bright eyes and a stubborn chin, was currently using as a rather uncomfortable throne.

“No!” she declared, her voice small but firm. Her little legs, clad in rainbow-striped leggings, were splayed across the suitcase, effectively barring any further attempts at packing. “You can’t leave!”

You fought the urge to smile, a knot of tenderness and exasperation tightening in your chest. You loved Olivia like she was your own niece, which she was in all but blood.

You’d spent countless evenings reading her stories, building Lego castles, and braiding her unruly hair. It was going to be hard leaving, harder than you’d anticipated.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning beneath you. “Why can’t I leave, Liv?” you asked, your tone gentle. You already knew the answer, but you needed to hear her say it.

Her brow furrowed, a miniature version of Geri’s expression when she was deep in thought. “Because… you make the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “And you always let me pick the movie.”

It was a weak argument, but it was hers. A genuine, heartfelt argument against your departure. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“I taught you how to make your own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, remember?” you pointed out, teasing lightly. “And I promise, Max and I will invite you over for movie nights. We just won’t have this giant, comfy bed.”

Her eyes widened, the argument about sandwiches forgotten. “Max’s house has a giant bed?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

“Well,” you said, chuckling, “It’s big enough for him and me, but maybe we can squish you in sometimes.”

You immediately regretted it when her face lit up, all thoughts of your departure suddenly focused on whether this “giant bed” would be a good place to jump.

You were about to derail the entire thing, even before you’d managed to pack a single pair of socks.

Olivia bounced off the suitcase, her earlier resistance seemingly forgotten. “Can we go now?!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with anticipation. “I want to see Max’s giant bed!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not yet, sweetie. I still need to pack, remember? And anyway, you'll have to ask your mom and dad if you're allowed to go over to Max's.”

The thought of Max, his warm smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, always warmed you from the inside out.

Moving in together felt like the most natural thing in the world, a gentle step forward in a relationship that had blossomed so effortlessly.

“Oh, okay,” Olivia said, her enthusiasm slightly dampened but still there. She plopped down on the bed next to you, her back leaning against you. “But you can’t forget to pack the sparkly socks you let me borrow!”

You reached out and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry, they're not on my packing list,” You said, hoping she wouldn't notice how your hand was shaking a little.

It had felt like an eternity since you'd found the little courage to break from the "safe" life you'd built, the one where you were just their 'friend' who lived at Christian and Geri's.

It had felt like an eternity since you'd allowed yourself to feel this happy.

She was quiet for a moment, her little face serious. “I’m going to miss you, you know,” she said in a small voice. It wasn’t a whiny statement, but it was filled with a heartbreaking honesty that tugged at you.

You leaned in and hugged her tight. “I’m going to miss you too, Liv,” you mumbled into her hair, the scent of strawberries and sunshine filling your nose.

"But it’s not goodbye forever. I'll still be around. We’ll have so many sleepovers. And I'm not all the way gone yet. We can bake cookies and do crafts and watch shows together. Okay?”

She nodded against you, and the silence stretched for a moment, the only sounds the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the low rumble of a car passing on the street outside.

You could feel her small hand gripping the edge of your t-shirt, her grip surprisingly strong despite her size. You were so grateful to have her. What would you do without them all? The thought of leaving now seemed more daunting than it had an hour ago.

“You like Max, right?” Olivia asked, finally breaking the silence.

You tensed. You hadn't expected that question. It caught you off guard, though you knew she wasn’t going to pry. She was just a kid, trying to understand the changes happening around her.

“Yeah, Liv. I like Max a lot,” you admitted, your voice soft. You wondered if she could hear the smile in your voice. It was a simple statement, but it carried so much weight.

It was more than just liking him. It was the easy way he fit into your life, the way he understood your vulnerabilities and supported your dreams, the way he made you feel like the most important person in the world. You loved him.

Olivia nodded, her gaze fixed on her hands. "He's nice I guess," she conceded grudgingly.

Her head snapped up, her eyes widening. “Really?” Her voice was full of surprise, a spark of genuine interest finally flicking to life behind her eyes.

“Yeah! He said he wanted to do it for all of your friends, like a big group thing as a surprise.” you beamed at her.

The tension in the room seemed to lessen slightly. Olivia’s shoulders relaxed, her small frown softening. She actually looked… curious.

“He’s doing that?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief. “That’s… nice.”

“See?” you said, a playful tone creeping into your voice. “He is! He’s not just some random boyfriend, Liv. He’s actually pretty amazing.”

She finally looked up at you, a small smile playing on her lips. “I guess. It's just… it’s going to be really different without you here.”

“I know,” you said, your heart clenching slightly at the thought of leaving your shared space. “But it's not like I'm moving to another country. We can still hang out whenever you want.”

“Yeah, I know,” she mumbled, picking at a loose thread on her skirt.

“And,” you added, hoping to lighten the mood further, “Max said we could do movie nights at his house after the season is over. Your movie pick would be first.”

“Really?” Her smile grew a bit wider. “He said that?”

“Yep! He’s actually really excited to have you all over. He thinks you’re cool, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “He does?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, Liv. He’s not some monster trying to steal me away. He just… makes me happy.”

She sighed, the last vestiges of her earlier frustration seeming to melt away. “Okay, okay. I get it. He sounds like a decent boyfriend. And a big Moana fan.”

“He kind of is,” you said, grinning. You picked up another outfit from the wardrobe. “Hey, do you want to watch Peppa Pig while I finish packing? Or do you have a better suggestion?”

Olivia's face brightened. “Oh yes please! But only if we have pizza after you finish.”

You laughed, relieved. “Deal,” you said.

The melody pulsed through you, a vibrant current that mirrored the excitement fizzing in your stomach. “Ik sloeg mijn ogen open, knipperde wat en de lucht leek helder, hij wil dat ik hem geloof nu…” you sang, the Dutch words rolling off your tongue with a practiced ease.

You weren't fluent, not by a long shot, but you'd been diligently working on your pronunciation, fueled by a secret desire to impress Max.

Your phone, perched precariously on a stack of books, continued to belt out the infectious pop tune by a Dutch artist you'd discovered.

You grabbed the last stray top from your drawer, a soft, faded blue, and made your way back to your suitcase, which lay open and waiting on your bed.

“Als ik schrik van hem, kom ik niet meer zo dichtbij als ik zou willen,” you continued, a small smile playing on your lips.

You envisioned Max’s reaction, the surprise in his eyes, maybe even a chuckle, when he heard you singing in his native tongue. You'd been teasing him about learning Dutch for weeks, a little game to keep the anticipation of this visit high.

You carefully folded the top, fitting it neatly into the already packed case. The song reached its crescendo, a final flourish of synth and pounding drums before fading out.

The silence that followed felt… different. Too sudden. You were about to reach for your phone, to put on something else, when the sound of slow, deliberate clapping startled you.

Your heart leaped into your throat, and you spun around, a gasp escaping your lips.

There, leaning against your bedroom doorframe, stood Max. His arms were crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk playing on his face.

He looked effortlessly handsome, like he had just stepped out of a magazine. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

“Max!” you exclaimed, your hand flying to your chest. “How long have you been standing there?” Your face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and sheer joy.

You hadn't expected him until much later in the day, and the element of surprise was nearly overwhelming.

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into your room, his gaze lingering on you. “Long enough to witness a very impressive performance,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Your Dutch is… well, it’s coming along.” There was a teasing note in his voice, but also something else, a hint of genuine admiration that made your stomach flip.

“Oh god,” you groaned, your cheeks burning a fiery red. “You heard all of that? It was awful, probably.” You started to fidget with your shirt, feeling terribly self-conscious.

Max chuckled, a sound you loved. “Awful? I thought you sounded like a natural.” He walked closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You know, ‘ik schrik van hem, kom ik niet meer zo dichtbij als ik zou willen’ is quite a romantic line. What does it mean?”

Your mind raced, trying to translate the words without sounding like a bumbling fool. “Uh, it’s… it’s something like… ‘if I am scared of him, I won’t come as close as I would like to’,” you mumbled, your gaze dropping to your feet.

He stopped in front of you, tilting your chin gently up with his finger. His touch sent a jolt through you, making you forget, for a moment, how silly you probably looked.

“Scared of me?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of concern.

You shook your head quickly, “No, of course not! It’s just the song. I was just trying to get the pronunciation right.” You felt your face growing even hotter.

“Well, you were certainly dedicated,” he said with a smile. “And I must confess, it was rather charming.” He stepped around you to look at the open suitcase.

"You're almost done?" Max asked, turning back to you with that smile that always made your heart flutter.

You nodded, still slightly dazed, thinking, how did you even get in?

As if reading your mind, Max let out another chuckle. "Your sister let me in and gave me a 10 minute lecture of how to take care of you, I already feel like a better boyfriend," he said with a smile, a playful glint in his eyes.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Olivia peek her head in before getting caught and running off, a stifled laugh echoing from the hallway.

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Olivia and her dramatic theatrics were a constant in your life.

“She’s ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.

He held your hand delicately, his touch sending a familiar warmth through you. His fingers intertwined with yours, a silent reassurance.

"Are you sure you're ready to move in with me, schat?" he asked, his voice soft, laced with a tenderness that always made your heart melt.

A wave of emotion washed over you, a mixture of excitement and a slight trepidation. Officially moving in with Max was a step, a big one, and the reality of it finally sank in.

This wasn't just a casual dating thing anymore; it was a commitment, a joining of lives, a leap into the unknown with the person you loved most.

“Ik ben meer dan klaar om met jou te leven,” you responded in Dutch, the words flowing smoothly, a secret language just for the two of you. I am more than ready to live with you.

Max grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He loved the way your native tongue sounded, the way the words rolled off your tongue, the intimacy of a language he didn't quite understand but felt deeply.

"God, you have to speak more of it later, okay?" he muttered, his voice low and slightly husky, a look of genuine adoration in his eyes. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Of course, Liefje,” you smiled, leaning into his embrace, the word darling slipping naturally off your tongue.

His scent, a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely his, filled your senses, and you felt safe, secure, like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You tilted your head back, looking up at him. "I can't believe this is actually happening," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "Me neither," he confessed, "but I’m really excited. We're going to make a home together."

You laughed, the tension easing from your shoulders. He had a way of making even the most daunting things feel like an adventure. "I can already see the chaos unfolding," you joked. "And I actually can't wait for it."

"Good, because I have a feeling it's going to be one hell of a ride," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He released you from the hug but kept your hand in his, guiding you towards the door. "Come on, let's get out of here. I’ve already loaded the other suitcase and Geri is waiting with lots of snacks for the road. Plus, I’m sure Olivia has something dramatic planned as your departure performance.”

As you walked out of your room, the weight of the move, the finality of it all, settled in. You glanced back at the empty space, a small pang in your chest.

It was a chapter closed, a book put back on the shelf, ready for the next story to begin.

Downstairs, Geri engulfed you in a hug, a mixture of sadness and happiness in her eyes. Olivia was holding a tissue to her face, fake sobbing, dramatically letting the tissue fall to the floor as she pretended to faint.

“Oh please,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

“This is a great occasion,” Geri chuckled, “A bittersweet one. I’m so happy for you two, truly, but seeing you leave is definitely a change.”

“Don’t worry, Geri, I’ll come back whenever you need me,” you said, giving her another hug. “And you can always visit.”

“Of course,” your mom said softly. "I’ve already planned the Christmas dinner to be at your new place. I expect you two to work hard making it a home,”

You laughed and turned to Max. "Ready to go?" you asked, a genuine smile lighting up your face.

He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance. "Always," he said, his eyes full of affection.

You took one last look at your home for a few months, a place filled with memories, both good and bad. Then you turned away.

The future was here, waiting for you, and you were ready to embrace it, hand in hand with the man you loved.

The car ride was filled with laughter and excited chatter. Max’s hand rested on your thigh, a comforting weight that grounded you. You listened to him talk about his plans for the apartment, how he envisioned you both filling it with your personalities.

He told you about painting the kitchen walls and adding some of your favorite books. Your heart swelled with affection.

It was going to be perfect.

Arriving at the apartment, you were greeted with the sight of Max's place, and it was better than you had imagined. It was filled with light and open spaces, with a balcony overlooking a small park. This space, your space, was waiting for you to make it a home.

You took a deep breath, the feeling of anticipation and joy bubbling in your chest.

Max looked at you. "What do you think?" he asked, his eyes filled with a touch of nervousness.

You turned to him, your heart overflowing. "It's perfect," you said, your voice soft, filled with love. "Absolutely perfect."

And you knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within your soul, that this was where you were meant to be. This was the start of your next chapter, and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

As Max took your hand and pulled you inside, his smile telling you everything you needed to know, you knew, that this was home.

The key turned in the lock with a satisfying click, and the door swung inward, revealing the entryway of your new life together. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, eager spirits.

You stepped inside, and for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. It wasn't just a house; it was a testament to shared dreams, a physical manifestation of the love you and Max had carefully cultivated.

Your gaze immediately lifted, drawn to the soaring vaulted ceiling, the exposed beams a rich, dark wood that contrasted beautifully with the soft, off-white walls. You ran your hand along the smooth plaster, marveling at the craftsmanship.

Your feet carried you forward, deeper into the house, your suitcase forgotten by the door. You traced the curve of an archway that led to what you assumed was the living room, then peeked into a cozy nook tucked away near the kitchen, already imagining long evenings curled up there with a book.

You explored each room as if it were a precious artifact, finding beauty in every detail. The kitchen was a chef’s dream, with a large island, gleaming countertops, and a pantry that seemed to stretch on forever.

Sunlight streamed through the large, almost floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining area, promising sun-drenched breakfasts and candlelit dinners. You could already picture yourselves here, laughing and creating memories in the home that belonged to both of you.

You were so thoroughly captivated you hadn't even noticed Max watching you from the entryway, his eyes filled with an adoration that made your heart melt. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

Finally, you completed your impromptu tour, circling back to the entryway practically vibrating with excitement. You turned to him, your eyes wide, a genuine smile lighting up your face.

“What do you think, schat?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with anticipation.

You didn’t hesitate, your heart full to bursting. “Liefje, it’s amazing,” you breathed out, the Dutch term of endearment rolling off your tongue with ease. It was more than amazing; it was everything you had ever hoped for, and more. It felt like coming home.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and came towards you, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his smile widening. “I knew you would. I’ve spent weeks picturing you here.” He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“Picture me here?” you teased, tilting your head. “Doing what?”

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Reading in that little nook, probably. Or cooking up a storm in that kitchen. And dancing, maybe? We have plenty of space for that now.”

You laughed, imagining the possibilities. “Dancing, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Are you going to finally teach me the tango?”

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But first things first: we need to get your suitcase inside before someone mistakes it for an abandoned piece of luggage.” He gestured towards the forgotten suitcase with a playful wink.

You blushed slightly, realizing how completely you had gotten caught up in the moment. “Oh, right.” You turned to grab your suitcase, but he was already there, easily lifting it as if it were weightless.

“Let me take care of that,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’ve been exploring; I’ll be your pack mule.”

You followed him further into the living room, placing your case near a large, plush couch. He placed his suitcase next to yours, the gesture a small symbol of the life together you were building. “So, what’s next?” you asked, feeling a jolt of excitement run through you.

“Well,” he said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I was thinking we could unpack? Then maybe open a bottle of wine? And then…” He paused, drawing out the word. “Then we officially break in the house.”

You laughed, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “Break in the house? What does that exactly entail?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Well, I was thinking… we could christen each room. One by one.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you caught the meaning behind his suggestive tone. “Max!” you exclaimed, with a mixture of embarrassment and delight, your heart rate picked up from his words.

He laughed again, the sound warm and comforting. “What? It’s a big house; it needs to be properly inaugurated, don’t you think?”

“Maybe after we pack...” you began, your smile matching his mischievous one.

The next few hours were a flurry of activity, filled with unpacking, laughter, and the occasional stolen kiss. You found yourself working seamlessly alongside Max, each of you knowing exactly what to do, a testament to the quiet harmony you shared.

You unpacked your clothes, placing them side by side in the spacious wardrobe; you organized your things in the bathroom, your toiletries now lined up next to his. It was amazing how quickly this space was becoming a home, a reflection of the life you were building.

As the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows across the house, you collapsed onto the sofa, finally allowing yourself to relax. Max joined you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you close. You nestled into his side, the warmth of his body a familiar comfort.

He opened a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. He handed one to you, and you clinked them together. “To new beginnings,” he said, his eyes locking with yours.

“To new beginnings,” you echoed, taking a slow sip of the wine. The taste was rich and smooth, a perfect complement to the moment.

You looked around the living room, now slowly filling with your presence. It was cozy, inviting, and overflowing with possibilities. Soon it would be filled with the sounds of your laughter and the echoes of your life together.

You turned to Max, his face illuminated in the soft glow of the setting sun. “Max,” you said, your voice filled with emotion, “thank you. For everything.”

He smiled, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart swell with adoration. “You don’t have to thank me, schat. This is just the start.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss. “And I can’t wait to see where this journey takes us.”

The news hit you like a rogue wave, leaving you gasping for air. "My mom and sister are coming over in two days," Max had said, his voice casual as he stirred the pasta sauce. He hadn’t looked at you, too focused on the simmering pot, and for a moment, the kitchen seemed to shrink, the walls closing in.

Two days. . . .

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

6159 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ, ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴋɪᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ?

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

You and Jayce stood outside the bright, cheerful building of the preschool, staring up at the colorful sign that read "Bright Beginnings Academy." Jayce's hands rested casually on his hips, the usual confident smile on his face as he looked down at you. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as well.

"I still can't believe they asked us to do this," Jayce said, adjusting his jacket. "It's not every day we get invited to talk to a group of young minds about science and technology."

You laughed lightly. "I think it's a great opportunity to inspire them. If even one of these kids decides to pursue something in science because of what we say, that would be amazing."

Jayce nodded, beaming. "Exactly! And I’ll make sure to give them a talk they'll never forget. You know, I can be pretty persuasive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Just... remember, not every five-year-old is going to understand particle acceleration. Keep it simple for them, okay?"

Jayce waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this. I'll make it sound fun."

You both entered the preschool and were greeted by the head teacher, Ms. Graves, who led you to the first classroom. The kids were sitting at small tables, eyes wide with curiosity, some fidgeting with toys and others whispering to each other.

"Everyone, this is Jayce and Y/N," Ms. Graves announced cheerfully. "They’ve come to tell us all about their exciting work!"

Jayce stepped forward, his tall frame making him stand out among the tiny chairs. He cleared his throat, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey there, little scientists! I’m Jayce, and I build incredible machines that can help solve problems! I work with energy and technology to create inventions that can change the world. I bet some of you have seen big machines like robots, right?" He smiled, trying to gauge their understanding.

A few hands shot up eagerly. "I saw a robot on TV!" one of the kids exclaimed.

"That's right! And those robots use technology I help create!" Jayce said, puffing out his chest slightly.

The kids seemed intrigued, but the more Jayce spoke, the more confused their faces became as he dove deeper into the technical aspects of his work. He mentioned “energy fields” and “complex algorithms,” which only seemed to go over their heads.

You smiled softly to yourself, watching him confidently speak. It was clear he was passionate about his work, but you could see where things might be getting a bit... complicated for the children. You moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a knowing look.

"Maybe we should take a step back and make it a bit more fun for them," you suggested gently, giving him a playful nudge.

Jayce blinked, realizing his overcomplicated explanation. "Ah, right. I got carried away."

You took a step forward, crouching down to the kids' level. "Hey there, everyone!" you said warmly. "I’m Y/N, and I love science too! Jayce builds things that help people, but sometimes, instead of using big words, we can show you how things work with fun activities!"

You looked to the teacher, who smiled and nodded in agreement. "Let’s make a simple machine today. We can build something cool together!"

The kids cheered, their excitement palpable. You led them to the activity table where materials like cardboard, straws, rubber bands, and small gears were set out. You guided them through creating simple contraptions—a basic pulley system, a little lever, and even a tiny rolling machine.

Jayce watched you in awe, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed how effortlessly you connected with the kids. You patiently helped each child, showing them how to build and encouraging their creativity. Some kids had trouble with the mechanics, and you were there with a smile, explaining everything in the simplest ways.

The more you interacted with the kids, the more they clung to you. One child tugged at your sleeve, asking to show you their creation. Another crawled into your lap, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes. You laughed, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

"Look, Jayce," you whispered, nodding to the group gathered around you. "They really love you too, but I think they might love me just a bit more right now."

Jayce chuckled, a bit of a pout on his lips. "I’m supposed to be the cool inventor, but I guess you’ve got the magic touch."

You leaned in, teasing. "What can I say? I’m a natural with kids. They like when things are fun and hands-on."

Jayce's gaze softened as he watched you, a proud smile spreading across his face. "You’re amazing," he said, more to himself than to you. "You make it look so easy."

The children continued to surround you, proudly showing off their creations. One little girl climbed onto your lap, a big smile on her face as she presented her simple yet clever machine.

"Look, I made a lever that helps me open my toy box!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You beamed, helping her adjust the lever. "That's fantastic! You’ve just made something that could help you every day. I think you’re a real inventor in the making."

The classroom was alive with chatter, and Jayce had long since stepped back to give you the spotlight. He couldn’t help but admire how you connected with the kids, how naturally you made learning fun for them. He realized, with a soft chuckle, that maybe you were the true teacher here today.

As the activity came to a close, the kids surrounded you, each one wanting to show you their project or give you a high-five. Jayce joined in, still amazed by how well you were able to inspire the next generation.

"You know," he said, as you walked hand-in-hand with him out of the classroom, a playful glint in his eye, "maybe next time, we should let you do the talking."

You smiled, squeezing his hand. "Maybe we should. But you were still awesome, Jayce. I just think you need to simplify your genius a little."

Jayce laughed softly, his heart warmed by how easily you embraced everything that came with working with children. "I think I could learn a thing or two from you. You’re a natural."

You grinned. "I just know how to make science fun."

VIKTOR

The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the warm fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. You sat beside Viktor in his workshop, the steady hum of machinery and the quiet crackle of the fire filling the space. You’d been talking for hours, about everything and nothing, when the conversation shifted to something you’d always carried in your heart.

"I’ve always wanted to have children," you said softly, tracing the rim of your teacup absentmindedly. "Even when I was young, I used to imagine what it would be like to be a mother, to have a little one running around, learning new things, growing up. It just always felt right to me."

Viktor’s expression faltered for a moment, his brow furrowing as he lowered his gaze. The silence stretched between you, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the subtle tension in the air. It wasn’t like Viktor to be so quiet, and it made your heart tighten with concern.

"You... want children?" Viktor’s voice was softer than usual, almost as if he was testing the words, as if they were foreign to him.

You nodded, turning toward him with a small smile. "I’ve always dreamed of it, yes. I think it’s one of the most fulfilling things someone can experience."

Viktor shifted slightly in his seat, a look of deep thought on his face. "I..." He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the arm of his chair as if searching for the right words. "I don’t think that’s something I can give you."

You blinked, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. "What do you mean?"

Viktor’s eyes met yours, and there was a heaviness in them, a burden he had carried for so long, one you knew he didn’t speak of often. "I have my illness," he said quietly, his voice tight. "And my... condition. I don’t want to pass on any of what I have to a child."

You felt a pang in your chest, the deep sadness in his words cutting through you. He was already thinking about his own deformity, his illness—how it affected his body, his life. Viktor never talked about it openly, always focusing on his work, but you knew that it was always there, lingering in his mind. He feared it, feared what it would mean for the future.

"But Viktor," you whispered, reaching out to take his hand, "you are more than your illness. You are strong, brilliant, and beautiful in so many ways. If we were to have children... they wouldn’t just inherit the things that make you feel broken. They’d inherit everything that makes you who you are."

Viktor’s eyes flickered to your hand, his gaze softening for a brief moment, but the weight of his thoughts remained. "I can’t bear the thought of passing on my suffering to anyone, especially a child. I wouldn’t want them to go through the things I’ve been through... the pain, the limitations." His voice broke slightly, though he tried to steady it. "I wouldn’t want them to have to carry the burden of what I’ve become."

Your heart ached for him, knowing how deeply he cared about you and how much it hurt him to feel that he could not offer you the life you had dreamed of. You gently squeezed his hand, offering him a tender smile, one filled with understanding and love.

"I understand, Viktor," you said softly. "I understand more than you know. I’m not asking for something you can’t give right now, and I wouldn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. I respect your decision, and I support you completely. If it’s not the right time for you, then I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me to."

Viktor’s eyes searched yours, his lips trembling slightly, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow reflected in them. "You... you would wait for me?"

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I love you, Viktor. And whether we have children or not, my love for you won’t change. We’ll have the future that’s right for us, together."

A long silence fell between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a peaceful kind of silence, the kind that spoke volumes without the need for words. Viktor’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as if he needed that touch to steady himself, to remind himself that you were there, beside him.

"You’ve always been so patient with me," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness you rarely heard. "I don’t deserve your patience."

You shook your head, a small, affectionate smile playing at your lips. "You don’t have to deserve it, Viktor. It’s not about that. It’s about us, about being together, and supporting each other. We’ll figure this out, one step at a time. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here."

Viktor’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the gratitude he struggled to express. He leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent promise passing between you. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "For everything."

And in that moment, you knew, without a doubt, that whatever the future held, you and Viktor would face it together—patiently, lovingly, and with the same unwavering commitment that had always defined your relationship.

JAYVIK

The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the room, the warm glow casting gentle shadows on the walls of the living room. You, Viktor, and Jayce had just finished a long day of work, and now, you were all unwinding in your cozy space. You and Viktor were seated on the couch, a few scattered papers and empty mugs left on the coffee table, while Jayce leaned back in his armchair, kicking his boots up with a sigh of relief.

For a while, there was nothing but the steady rhythm of breathing and the occasional rustling of papers as Viktor worked on a few ideas for his next project. Jayce, on the other hand, seemed content to simply unwind, the silence comfortable in a way only the three of you could share.

It was a casual evening—no talk of politics, no discussions of breakthroughs or setbacks. But then, as Jayce stretched his arms above his head, breaking the silence, he casually dropped a thought that had been on his mind for a while.

"You know," Jayce said, half to himself, "I was just thinking about how we could have a little one running around here one day. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to pass all of this on to, someone who would grow up with us."

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his chair. He didn’t immediately respond, though his gaze drifted to you as if testing the waters.

"You’re right," Viktor added quietly after a moment, his tone soft but pensive. "Maybe one day, we should. We’ve spent so much of our lives focused on work, but I suppose we should think about a future beyond just our creations."

You looked up at the two of them, surprised to hear this so directly. They’d mentioned the idea in passing before, but now it felt more tangible, more real. Still, you said nothing at first, unsure of how to react. Jayce, always eager to entertain new possibilities, kept talking.

"I wonder what it would be like," he mused. "What kind of parents we'd be. It’s crazy to think about it, but I think I’d want to give it a shot. But you know, it’s a lot of work, a lot of responsibility." He laughed softly. "Not sure if we’d be the perfect role models, huh?"

You gave him a half-smile, trying to keep the conversation light. But inside, a knot of tension began to form in your stomach. You could hear the underlying question in their words—the curiosity, the openness, and perhaps even a bit of uncertainty. They wanted your opinion, wanted to know if this was something you were considering, too.

But as you sat there in the living room with them, you knew this conversation had to come to a head. The secret you had been keeping from them—the truth you hadn’t been able to share yet—was slowly eating at you.

Taking a deep breath, you set your mug down on the table with a soft clink, your hands shaking slightly as you prepared to speak.

"I—" you started, your voice trembling a bit. "I need to tell you something."

Jayce and Viktor both turned their attention to you, sensing the change in the air. They sat up a little, waiting for you to continue.

"I’ve never told you this before," you began, trying to steady your breathing. "But... I can’t have children."

The words hung in the air between you like a weight, a truth you’d kept locked away for so long. You could feel the sting of shame welling up in your chest as you tried to continue.

"It’s... it’s because of infertility," you murmured, your eyes cast downward, unable to meet their gazes. "And I’ve never told either of you. I guess... I didn’t want to disappoint you. Or make you feel like... like I wasn’t enough. I’ve been so afraid that if you knew, you’d..."

You trailed off, the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You hadn’t meant for this to happen. You hadn’t meant to break down like this, but the truth was heavy, and the shame was worse than you’d imagined.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. The weight of your confession hung over you, suffocating. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, too afraid of how they might react. You had kept this secret for so long, hoping it would never come up, but now the truth was out there.

Then, to your surprise, you felt Viktor’s hand on your shoulder, gentle but firm, as if to reassure you that he was there. His voice, when it came, was softer than you had ever heard it.

"Y/N," he said quietly, his tone filled with understanding. "You don’t need to feel ashamed. We’re not angry with you, not at all."

Jayce, too, leaned forward, his gaze filled with concern but also affection. "We’re a team, Y/N," he said, his voice earnest. "There’s nothing you could say that would change that. We love you, and that doesn’t change because of something like this."

You finally lifted your gaze to them, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. "But I—" you began, but Viktor shook his head gently.

"Listen to us," he said softly. "This doesn’t change anything. We’re still the same. And if you want children, we’ll find a way. Together."

Jayce nodded in agreement. "There are options, you know. Adoption. Surrogacy? We’ll figure it out, Y/N. No matter what."

Your heart swelled at their words, the weight in your chest beginning to lift, even if just a little. You weren’t alone in this. They understood, they cared, and they weren’t angry.

"I don’t deserve you both," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Viktor leaned closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his eyes warm with sincerity. "You deserve all of us, Y/N. We’re in this together. There’s no need for shame. We’ll take each step together, and when the time is right, we’ll decide what’s next."

Jayce reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softened with a rare, tender understanding. "We’re here for you, always. And we’ll figure this out, whatever path we need to take."

The comfort in their words, the warmth in their touch, soothed you more than you could have expected. Maybe the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but you knew you wouldn’t walk it alone.

Together, the three of you would find a way forward.

VANDER

It was a quiet evening at the Vander household. The children had long since been put to bed, and the house was filled with the soft sounds of the night—crickets chirping in the distance, the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. You and Vander were seated by the fireplace, the warm glow from the flames casting gentle shadows across the room.

You had just finished tidying up after a long day of running around with the kids—Powder, Vi, Mylo, and Claggor. They were all sweet, each of them with their own personalities, their own quirks, and you loved every moment spent with them. But tonight, as you sat beside Vander, there was a different energy between you two. A quiet, lingering thought that had been on Vander’s mind for some time now.

Vander watched you from his seat, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he observed you. You were always so gentle, so patient with the kids. He had seen you day in and day out, playing with them, teaching them, loving them. It was clear how much you cared for them, and that made his heart swell with warmth. But tonight, something else flickered behind his eyes. Something he had been holding back for a while.

"You know," Vander began, his voice low and thoughtful, "you’ve been incredible with the kids."

You smiled at him, a soft, fond expression on your face. "I love them like they’re my own."

Vander’s gaze softened. "I can see that. They adore you. And it’s not just the way you take care of them—it’s the way you make them feel safe, the way you guide them. They need you, Y/N."

You shrugged, trying to hide the warmth in your chest. "They make it easy. They’re amazing kids."

Vander’s smile grew slightly, but there was something more in his eyes, a hint of something deeper. "You’ve been so good to them. I can't help but think…" He paused, as if carefully considering his words. "I wonder what it would be like to have another."

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Another?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his gaze turning toward the fire. "Yeah. You’re so good with them... I can’t help but imagine what it would be like, to have one of our own." His voice was quiet, almost a reflection of a thought he hadn’t fully voiced until now.

You stared at him, your mind racing. You loved the kids you already had but the idea of having one with Vander, of building your own family even further, was an exciting thought. You had always felt that spark of hope deep down, but you never dared to mention it, not wanting to push for something Vander might not feel the same about. But now, hearing him say it out loud, your heart fluttered with possibility.

"I..." You didn’t quite know what to say at first, the warmth in your chest expanding at the thought of another child. "I’ve thought about it, too. What it would be like to have one together."

Vander’s eyes found yours again, soft and full of tenderness. "I can’t help but wonder if we could handle another one. But then again..." He chuckled quietly, rubbing his hand over his chin. "We seem to manage just fine with the four of them."

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. "They do keep us on our toes, don’t they?"

Vander grinned. "Yeah, but that’s what makes it worth it. Watching them grow, helping them become who they’re meant to be. And... I see the way you look after them. It’s something special."

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love them, all of them. I love being their guardian, their guide." You sighed contently, your eyes falling closed as you breathed in the warmth of the room and the safety of his embrace. "I think another child could fit right in, don’t you?"

Vander’s hand found yours, gently intertwining your fingers. "Maybe it could. Maybe it’s time to see if we’re ready for that next step."

You turned your face up to look at him, your heart racing slightly as you met his gaze. The flickering light from the fire reflected in his eyes, giving them a depth of emotion that made your pulse quicken.

"You think we’re ready?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vander’s grin grew as he leaned in slightly closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I think it’s something we should try."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the tone in his voice, the weight of his words settling in. It was as if he was speaking not just about the idea of another child, but about everything that came with it—commitment, trust, love. His lips brushed against your ear as he continued, his voice low and smooth.

"I can’t think of a better person to have a child with than you, darling," he murmured. "So... what do you say? Are you ready to try?"

The air between you two seemed to crackle with tension, an unspoken promise, a shared understanding. You leaned into him, your heart thudding in your chest as you whispered back, "I’m ready."

With that, Vander’s lips found yours, gentle yet full of promise, as if sealing the decision, sealing the future. The kiss deepened, the warmth between you both growing stronger as you both knew, in that moment, that your love was only going to grow even further.

And as the fire crackled softly in the background, you both knew one thing for certain: a new chapter was beginning for you both. Together.

SILCO

It was late in the evening when Silco found himself watching you from across the room. You were sitting with Powder, laughing softly as the young girl showed you her latest creation—a makeshift toy made from scrap materials she’d found in the undercity. Powder’s face lit up with pride, and you, with your usual warmth, encouraged her with genuine admiration. Silco watched the scene unfold quietly from his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the way you interacted with Powder. It was a bond he’d seen growing stronger with each passing day, and though he didn’t show it, it stirred something deep within him.

You had always been like a guiding force for Powder. She trusted you, adored you, and looked up to you in a way that only a daughter could. Silco had his own complicated feelings about it all—he'd never been one for sentimentality or nurturing, especially when it came to children. The thought of raising a child, having someone so vulnerable tied to him… it made his stomach turn.

He shifted in his chair, then stood and approached you, his gaze flickering between you and Powder for a moment before he spoke.

“Y/N,” Silco began, his voice steady but laced with an underlying seriousness, “there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

You turned your attention to him, a soft smile on your lips as you glanced from him to Powder. “What’s on your mind, Silco?”

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice just a touch more guarded. “I’ve been thinking. About… children.”

You frowned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The seriousness in Silco’s tone made you wary, and you instinctively looked over at Powder. Her wide eyes were bouncing between you both, sensing the tension that was beginning to settle over the room.

“You should go get ready for bed, Powder,” you said softly, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be with you in a minute, alright?”

Powder hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering between you and Silco, before she nodded slowly. “Okay, Y/N,” she muttered, and with a last glance, she shuffled off toward her room, her footsteps growing quieter as she left the room.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, the air in the room felt heavier, and you turned back to Silco, your gaze now fixed on him with an unspoken understanding that the conversation had just shifted into something more serious.

Silco’s eyes never left you as he continued, his expression unreadable. “I’ve seen the way you care for Powder. The way you’ve taken her under your wing. And it’s…” He paused, almost unwilling to continue. “It’s admirable, the bond you share with her. But I want you to know this, Y/N…” He took a slow step closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. “I don’t want children. The thought of having a child, someone so vulnerable, tied to me… it’s a weakness. A risk. They could be used against me one day. I won’t allow that.””

You could feel the tension in the room rise as he spoke. You could see the vulnerability behind his eyes, the fear of losing control, and perhaps, in some twisted way, the self-awareness that having a child might be more than he could handle. And yet, it didn’t come as a surprise. Silco’s life had always been about control, power, and survival. The last thing he needed was someone to hold over him, to manipulate his emotions.

You took a deep breath, moving from your position on the floor to sit beside Silco, resting your hand gently on his leg. "You're not the only one who doesn't want children, Silco," you said softly.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

You offered him a reassuring smile, your voice steady. "I’ve never really had the desire to have children of my own. Powder is the only daughter I need. She’s enough for me."

Silco’s eyes softened ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to form a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I suppose we both have our reasons."

You nodded, the weight of the conversation settling around you. "And those reasons are enough for me. Powder has always been the light in my life, and I’m happy with the family we’ve built. With you, with her, with everything we’ve worked for."

Silco regarded you for a long moment, his usual hard demeanour softening in the quiet of the room. He reached out, placing his hand gently over yours with a rare tenderness that made your heart skip.

"I respect that, love," he said quietly, his voice carrying more warmth than usual. "I can see how much she means to you. And how much you mean to her." His gaze flickered toward the door where Powder had gone off to bed, before returning to you. "I'm glad you're here. With me. With us."

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you despite the gravity of the conversation. "I’m glad, too, Silco."

The room fell into a long silence, but it was comforting, not uncomfortable. Both of you took in the truth of what had been said—no more, no less. The bond you shared, the family you had built, was more than enough. You didn’t need anything else.

"Good," Silco muttered after a pause, his usual commanding tone returning. "Then that’s settled."

You nodded, meeting his eyes with quiet conviction. "Yeah. It is."

And with that, the topic was closed—no resentment, no regret, just a mutual understanding between the two of you. You didn’t need a child to complete your family. You already had everything you needed in each other.

JINX/POWDER (PLATONIC!)

It was a quiet afternoon in the streets of Zaun, the sun casting an amber glow over the city as you wandered through the busy market, enjoying the calm between your usual chaotic routine. You had been picking up a few supplies, humming softly to yourself, when you noticed a small, frightened child standing near a stack of crates, eyes wide and scanning the crowd.

Instinctively, you approached the child, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “Hey there, you look lost,” you said, crouching down to their level. The child nodded, eyes brimming with tears, and you could see the desperation in their gaze.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured them softly, your voice warm. “Let’s find your parents, okay?”

The child clung to you as you took their hand, and as you made your way through the crowds, they became more and more comfortable in your presence, their grip on you loosening but still steady. The child’s fears slowly ebbed away, soothed by your steady presence. Eventually, you found the child’s parents near the merchant stalls, frantically scanning the crowd.

A tall woman with wild, auburn hair was the first to notice you approaching. Her expression softened with relief as you caught her gaze.

“Are you looking for someone?” you asked, glancing down at the child who had begun to tug at your shirt.

“Yes! My son!” The woman rushed toward you, and the child’s face lit up. Without another word, the child hopped off your hip and ran to their mother, clinging to her side.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” the woman said, tears welling up in her eyes as she held her child tight. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The man beside her, who had been nervously pacing, stepped forward. His deep voice was shaky as he added, “We’ve been looking everywhere. We thought we lost him for good.” He turned to you with a grateful smile. “You’ve done more than we could have asked for.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile, your heart warming at the reunion. You nodded at them both. “Just happy to help.”

The woman reached out to pull you into a brief, heartfelt hug. “Thank you again. We’re in your debt.”

You returned the hug lightly, your thoughts drifting as you watched the mother and father take their child’s hand, walking together with him in tow. They waved as they walked away, and you waved back before turning to leave the scene.

It was in that moment that you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you, followed by an all-too-familiar voice, sharp and full of an edge you recognized.

“What’s this?” Jinx’s voice echoed from behind, full of suspicion. “You just making friends with every little rat in the city now?”

You turned around to see her standing there, arms crossed, a scowl on her face as her eyes fixed not on you, but on the small child who had been clinging to you moments before.

Jinx’s gaze was icy, her brow furrowed as she narrowed her eyes at the child as they walk away with their parents. She took a slow step forward, the usual manic energy in her movements tempered by something else — jealousy. And that was a rare sight.

“Why’s was that kid clinging onto you like you’re his new mom?” Jinx sneered, her voice dripping with possessiveness, the insecurity in her words biting deeper than she likely intended. She shifted uncomfortably, hands fidgeting with the straps of her weapon as her gaze shists to you. Her foot tapped impatiently against the ground, and you could see her cheeks flush with frustration.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension in the air, but also the deeper discomfort simmering beneath her words. “I was just helping them find their parents, Jinx. Nothing more to it.”

"Right," she muttered under her breath, her jealousy almost palpable now. “I see how it is. Just another kid looking for a mother figure while I... get left behind. Not enough room for me, huh?”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and for a split second, you felt a pang of regret for the situation, as if somehow you had betrayed her by offering your care to someone else. But then, you remembered who you were to Jinx — and who she was to you.

You took a deep breath, your eyes flickering to Jinx, who had taken a few steps closer, her posture tense and guarded, like she was expecting a confrontation.

“Jinx…” you began, your voice soft but with the weight of sincerity. “You know I care about you. That kid… they needed someone, and I just helped. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

Jinx’s expression faltered for a moment, and she looked away, biting her lip as she avoided meeting your gaze. There was a long pause before she muttered, her voice barely audible, “I know... It’s just, I... I don’t like seeing anyone else taking your attention. It’s like... you’re spreading yourself thin, and I’m afraid there won’t be enough of you for me.”

You took a step closer, your heart aching as you read the vulnerability in her words. Gently, you cupped her cheek, guiding her face to meet yours. “You’re my priority, Jinx. Always.”

Her eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing through the storm of emotions that she usually kept hidden. She let out a soft sigh, her usual wildness dimming as she allowed herself to relax for just a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her hands falling loosely at her sides, her expression more like the girl you knew — Powder. The one who wanted to be tough, but deep down just wanted to be cared for.

You smiled warmly at her, your thumb brushing her cheek tenderly. “Don’t be. You never have to apologize for needing me. And you’ll always have my attention when you need it.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she finally let her guard down a bit more. The jealousy, while still lingering beneath the surface, was no longer as intense. She knew, deep down, that your bond was something that couldn’t be easily replaced or shared with anyone else.

Jinx huffed softly, a touch of her usual playful spark returning as she bumped her shoulder against yours. “Yeah, well, you better not go getting attached to every little lost kid running around.”

You chuckled, leaning into her shoulder for a brief moment. “I’ll try to keep my ‘motherly instincts’ in check for you, alright?”

“Good,” she said, her tone a mix of relief and mischief. “But if you’re gonna start collecting kids, at least pick the cool ones, yeah?”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes but feeling lighter. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jinx.”

And as you both walked away from the market, side by side, you knew this was just another layer of your relationship with Jinx — an unspoken understanding that no matter the jealousy or misunderstandings, you would always be there for each other, no matter what.

[khorneschosen]

Read the bottom first. If you do, none of this matters. I write as I read to help keep each topic in focus. I came to a conclusion that changed everything. Please read the bottom parts first.

You should really read the citations you gave me. Many of the citations given do not actually report what the article says they do, or they are just the game of journalistic telephone.

This is why I keep jokingly saying "enjoy not reading this" because if you don't read the citations you give me, or whats the fucking point? It's why I find the process pointless.

This will be the last citation I accept or give unless you can go through your article and give me the actual data sheet in question. Because a secondary source is dog shit typically, and to be in good faith you should point to the primary source, and its data tables.

Drowning someone in citations you refuse to read yourself in my opinion is a very, very bad faith tactic. It's a gish gallop.

And I want to remind you, logically this argument has nothing to do with my position on a particular subject. I could have ignored it outright and be in good faith to do so. I chose not to, because as I said, it is best to deal with the strongholds or the essentials and fundamentals of your political ideals. This is a benevolence that I engage with, as it logically does not connect to the original claim you proposed to challenge, that I could excuse murder of women. You will need to make your case as to why this is logically sound to be relevant.

Because you asked for a citation but no citation can be on par with my education on the subject. I could cite a great deal many books which point to the irrational base of feminism.

But I decided to point to the fact that all post modern philosophy is defined by its rejection of reason as its philosophical basis. It's what makes a philosophy post modern.

Name a feminist who rejects patriarchy theory and I'll be happy to agree that it's not a monolith. Even irrational philosophies need foundations to their belief structures. That is monolithic even if the monoliths are small to the philosophy they are everything. The blige can be safely ignored if you know what is the actual foundation.

Such as patriarchy theory, such as the marx's view of class conflict between men and women. (That there can never be true equality because men and women as a class have contradictory class interests), the rejection of reason, and so on. These are essentials to feminism.

While we are here, how does feminism come to the duluth model of domestic violence, which claims all domestic violence is an act of patriarchal oppression? How does it come to that conclusion?

Not slow, but inherently flawed. And seeing as how we are comparing for profit vs government run Id point out the failures of the dutch and canadian systems use of suicide as a cost cutting measure, the nhs complete collapse so much so that the for profit system is effectively the only one, the slavery of the cuban system. The errors of these systems cannot be on par with the free market solutions that had previously existed or that are being chosen increasingly in these systems.

Furthermore as I pointed out if you want a comparison you'll actually have to compare the older systems as ours is being purposely sabotaged currently and has been for a few decades now. It can not be called for profit when what it is, is so tightly regulated that it is all but nationalized.

======================================

This part is important to the bottom as well.

I'm pointing out my own nature, that I am emotional, as are you. We both have the capacity for emotion and I am not dispassionate about what I argue for. I am not appealing to your emotion, I am claiming its existence.

Also, has your dispassion allowed you to know "these are the standards my argument rests on" or "this would disprove these standards, foundations, or my argument"? Because you still don't have an answer.

You need an answer btw, because having no falsifiability, is worse than wrong, it's completely invalid. I believe you when you say you don't know, but you need to know the standards even if only you do.

Placing your trust in science or the scientific method, isn't btw a standard. It's an negation of your standards, because you are placing it on faith in academia.

Especially because academia has increasingly been dropping its standards over the years. There is a competency crisis, a verification crisis, and a fraud crisis in academia.

The peer review process is breaking down and when it comes to repeatability when tested it is increasingly failing to validate the many papers published. Worse than that you see on departmental levels, that factors other than truth are ruling them. Such as the cases for those who post studies that aren't friendly to the current political parasites of academia. In short, academia is burning its own creditability down. The standards it has for its own validity are being destroyed by itself.

I understand the standards of whether I am right or wrong. Existence exist. That standard is what cements everything else.

It's why my self improvement is so purposeful and directed. Because with every question and issue I have a standard to weigh what I give that issue. The inexplicable becomes known. The chaos of philosophy and life becomes ordered and manageable.

======================================

This is the part I hope you read.

I want to talk to you about something. Something I hope you will listen to because I only offer it when I think Im talking to someone who will listen and understand and Ive spent so long waiting for someone who might listen and understand. Understand I would post only this if I thought it would go better. Because nothing matters to me as much as this. You have been honest and I will be honest the only way I know how, fully. I know I can't ask for good faith but I can beg for it and I will beg because I don't want this, a chance, to pass me by. A chance to correct an error I made so long ago.

Do you know, or atleast believe me when I tell you, that knowing my own standards, makes me happy? Happy in a way I can't describe fully. I stand stronger, feel fuller, think clearer, and act as I know I should? I feel perfect, in a way that doesn't come from ignoring all my many flaws but knowing I can now correct them. It's an unbreached rationality, without any contradictions or conflicts to bar my path. That so long as I walk it knowingly that nothing can or would stop me. That's what I feel.

You by your own words do not feel this way, and I think you are telling me because you recognize that you should atleast be able to name the demon that haunts you. That in naming it down to the core you can finally fight it. You know you need the standards to weigh the truth not just in a debate but in life. And yet your depression makes it seem like claiming to know the standards would be self destructive. Like it would harm your purity of thought, and process you do to understand. And like me to understand is so important it can't be put off, we have to know. Like you are placing too much importance in your mind. You shouldn't have ever felt ashamed for that. I am saddened to see you have. Not disappointed, saddened. You shouldn't have ever been made to feel that way about your life or thinking.

I think you see science and think as I do about it. As the great tool and means to drive civilization forward. You know the standards involved.

You also know the standards of the scientific process. Rationality, empiricism, both tested by repeatability and peer review. If one finds fault with the peer review it is because that have made a logical error, or have contradicted someone elses conclusions while not disproving them. Repeatability because in science what they discover is reality's entities and how they interact, and because we live in a rational universe, those entities interact in predictable ways, because reality is firm and knowable by us.

Those are the standards I live by, and I think you do too. I want you to live those standards fully. This is all I have ever wanted from any discussion. The standard being, existence exists. That reality exists and we can know it, that being reason. I am asking you to practice fully rationality. Not in contradiction to emotion as emotion too has its own standards and it is important.

I can't help you with the hardest part of all of this. To see and have the strength to accept it because it's demanding but only in the way that breathing is, or your heart beats are. Our heart beats every second we live without rest, without lapse, without error and every second of our life. It's hard and demanding but the heart does it. And to live in reason, is as demanding and hard but the only course forward just like a heart beat.

I can show you the path and the way forward. To give you the words and show you the nature of the contradictions you will encounter. That is invaluable but the hardest parts will be fought alone. I say this not to warn you but prepare you. I can only help you to work it out and come to your own conclusions. I can't give you the virtue you'll need, but that I think you have.

You wanted a citation earlier for the irrationality of feminism, because I don't think you could believe it. That standard is the standard most at play in the world. From the Christians, to the socialists, to the racists and the many ivory halls of academia.

I think you couldn't accept that kind of standard because you know it is wrong. To be irrational is to accept the stupid, the pointless and the incorrect.

I don't want you to have to go through the beating they will give you to make you accept irrationality. Not a beating that is fast aggressive and violent. But slow, grinding, and hopeless in its torture. It will be like walls slowly moving to crush you. Nothing will stop those walls save to escape the torturous prison they put you in.

Irrationality, is the standard of our culture, colleges, and what rules so much of what makes existing in this kind of world so hard and depressing. But you never had to suffer. You shouldn't have ever been made to suffer.

Reject it. They don't deserve the faith you give them as a substitute for the conviction of your own mind.

I will emphasize here I am not telling you to reject science but that you know the standards for it, and they are failing them by the adoption of irrationality. If and when they are right you will have the tools to know it. This is not science denial but to be more demanding of the academic process, that it live up to your idea of what academia should be.

I have spent 3 hours writing this part alone. I have made sections I thought were important to this. I hope it helps. You don't have to answer me, or answer me here I only hope you read and understand. That is all. Thank you for your time.

And how many children are without a parent because of denied medical care, homelessness, police brutality, etc.

If you're going to use "but they have children", be consistent.

[notashadowbutawave]

finally talked my wife into watching 8x06 "confessions" with me and WOW there's quite a lot going on in this breakup scene in buck's apartment (and the infamous glee scene for that matter) that I haven't seen discussed much on this website (though maybe I'm just not finding it?) like this show is always yelling the themes in your face but...

first of all I think it's somewhat intentional that Buck is being written as kind of regressing. So far in the show, he's gotten his confidence in romantic relationships by fulfilling the role with the person that he thinks he should fulfill. with Abby, Buck had just learned about serious adult romantic relationships and how they work and was trying to Be A Partner in a complete speed run. But he learned that no amount of devotion is a substitute for functionality. with Taylor, he was trying to Be A Functional Partner - and he learned that being a partner Has To involve trust, and that trust comes from somewhere else other than just our actions - it has to come from our hearts.

Tommy is the first person he's ever dated where he doesn't know what the next steps are and that's because this isn't something he has a blueprint for - being a Partner and a Functional Partner for somebody who sees right through him and sees exactly what he's trying to do, to make Tommy never leave. Abby was completely clueless (sorry I really dislike Abby) and Taylor didn't realize that an adult man could behave so badly without utter malice in his heart. Both of them kind of make the mistake of being vulnerable to Buck's charms.

Tommy is of course vulnerable to Buck's charms but Buck is more transparently himself with Tommy as well - and what Tommy sees, then, is a person who is deeply insecure and may be trending in the right direction but ultimately still thinks there's a lever he can pull to make Tommy stay and never leave him. He doesn't know that he's not done cooking yet because every new thing he learns about the world or others makes him feel brand fucking new.

So yes, the glee scene:

Josh was absolutely gagged that Tommy was Abby's ex fiance

Buck's first instinct is to see the situation from Abby's side and go into protective mode which is adorably loyal to be fair but also like ; get a grip

I actually love Josh's framing of "you care about this person and if you want a future in a queer relationship you need to learn that we don't all come to this the same way"

Did they need a cultural reference? No. Were they going to self referentially congratulate Ryan Murphy for inflicting it on the world? Yes.

And regarding the breakup itself:

What is wrong with this fandom's sense of humor that I haven't seen a gif of "I'm the himbo" ??? Like yes babe u sure are come here

Buck is really working so hard in this scene to make sure Tommy knows that he's serious. He's like... this freaked me out but I've decided I'm cool with it. She changed my life but not like you !!!

Like bless his heart, Buck thought he was really doing the right thing by telling Tommy about Abby BEFORE ASKING HIM TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. like MY CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE??? SEE??? LOVE ME FOREVER !! it's adorable and it's also cringe as fuck.

I think the real sin of the writing here is making Buck so completely clueless that this is the wrong move. Like he's kind of an idiot (Eddie Diaz's words not mine) but moving in with someone after dating them for six months in your 30s is WILD behavior and I don't think even Evan Buckley would fail to realize that this is a bit much in this moment.

But idk being in love makes one do stupid things? I did all of my messy bitch relationship shit before I turned 30 but I guess it is buck we are talking about

I completely understand why Tommy reacts the way he does in this scene and bless Lou Ferrigno Jr for acting it with such nuance, much more depth than the scene frankly deserves. What a heartbreaker. Like you see him tense up at Buck's request

"I'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you." such an insane thing to say to your boyfriend. Whoever approved this script was trying to take me out like with a gun.

You then see the absolute grief in Tommy's eyes like oh god this kid is killing me. He's so sweet. He's so cute. He doesn't get it. I love him. He doesn't get it.

As an aside, Eddie being stalked in the juice bar by the hot priest was absolutely incredible.

I didn't hate this episode but wow the writing does suck shit, however I fully believe it makes sense for them to break up here and get back together in the future ??? because Buck DOES have some shit to figure out. Like moving in with someone is a lot of fucking intimacy REALLY fast and baby boy sometimes you NEED to pump the brakes a little ESPECIALLY when you think someone might be THE ONE and you just figured out you like guys six months ago.

I get it and yeah the writing is tragic and the inclusion of Abby in general is just unhinged and unnecessary but like I don't hate the broad strokes here. how else does the blorbo learn if not by ritual torture by the writers. Lou is too good to not have back though. My god what a treasure.

end bucktommy endgame truther transmission

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Previous - Next

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

[sandyca5tle]

Was having a semi-serious conversation with some friends, and accidentally found myself quoting RWBY in a way that actually helped the discussion at hand, which got me thinking, there's a good few lines in RWBY that are just generally good things for life, so i decided to write a post about it 'cause fuck it. Some'll have commentary some are self explanitary enough. "I'm not any one thing, I'm somewhat of a lot of things" - this was the one that actually sparked this, was talking about identity with a friend, and found this quote very applicable - you don't always have to neatly fit in a box, you can be somewhat several things at once, if that's what fits for you. "Well that embaressment, that desire to go back and tell yourself not to be so stupid, that just proves you're not the same person you used to be. And you're not done growing yet" "You don't have to look cool all the time"

"Of course you are [a real girl]. You think just because you've got nuts and bots instead of squishy guts makes you any less real than me?" - This is less a general life lesson, but more of a 'just because someone is different to you, doesn't make them/their experiences any less real'. And obviously there's the trans angle on this, not being a 'real girl' is an anxiety many trans girls have struggled with, or is something people throw at us to put us down. But just 'cause we're built a little different than cis girls, doesn't make us any less girls "Pyrrha thought that, if there was even the smallest chance of helping someone, that it was a chance worth taking" "I'd be lying if I said that it didn't hurt, that I didn't think about them everyday since I lost them. That I didn't wish I had spent more time with them. If it had been me instead, I know they would have kept fighting too, no matter how dangerous it was, so that's what I choose to do. To keep moving forwards." - Mostly putting this here 'cause it's always nice to have a talk like this regarding grief/loss, and yeah, i just think this is nice and fairly honestly reflection of how a lotta people feel when they lose someone, coupled with the adivce to keep moving forwards. "I'm not asking you to stop. Just please, get some rest, not just for you, but for the people you care about," - I like this one 'cause a) self care is important bitches! Burning yourself out isn't gonna help whatever you're trying to do and b) hurting yourself like that is also gonna hurt those who care for you, 'cause no one wants to see those they care for suffer. So remember to take a break from time to time. "You think you're being selfless, but you're not. Yeah that chameleon friend of yours got me pretty good, but I'd do it all again if it meant protecting you... and I promise Yang would say the same. You can make your own choices sure, but you don't get to make ours. When your friends fight for you, it's because we want to, so stop pushing us out. That hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us," - Obviously the parts about fighting can be taken a little more metaphorically for everyday life, but I like this quote 'cause yeah, the people who are there for you *want* to be there for you, so deciding that you're a burden on them and hiding away/pushing them away is gonna hurt them because they *want to be there for you* - don't decide something for other people. "My losses, my failures, those, more than anything, are what have shaped me into who I am; showed me how I need to grow. If there's something I'm missing it's not because I've lost it, it's 'cause I haven't found it yet" - I just think this is a beautiful line. We've all wished at moments to undo the mistakes we've made, however those mistakes made us the people we are now. And yeah, I love the idea that something you're missing is not because you lost it, it's because you haven't found it yet. "One small kindness, in one small moment, lead to such a marvelous transformation, just like one act of dishonesty caused an unfortunate change" - Reminder that even small actions can mean a lot to others "What happens if I chose me?" "Then maybe, that girl is enough,"

But yeah, all of this to say I love RWBY, it has so many amazing and emotional moments and yeah, if you haven't given it a watch I would highly reccommend (and if you've heard bad things, i'd maybe give it a watch yourself first, a lotta people like to hate on the show in bad faith). But yeah, love RWBY and love all the wonderful moments and messages within it

[hees-mine]

L. Heeseung - Wrong One

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: mentions of smut, cursing, reader slaps heeseung, friends with benefits, alcohol, angst.

Genre: friends with benefits.

WC: 4,582k

-

“Are you staying the night?” You asked heeseung, the guy you’ve been friends with benefits with for four months, as he rolled over on the opposite side of the bed, breathing heavily.

You two had just finished your weekly routine. By routine, you meant the both of you fucking every last ounce of energy out of each other.

He wipes his palm over his face, wiping away the sweat that gathered at his hairline. “Nah,” he says and sighs shortly after. “I never stay, you know that.” he sits up on the bed once he’s regained enough stamina.

“Yeah…. I do know that” you reply disappointedly and pulled the blankets up to your chest while he stands up, searching for all his discarded clothes.

“So….” He starts out rolling the used condom down his shaft and tying it off before tossing it in your trash bin. “I was thinking we could do it at my place next week. My parents are out of town on vacation.” he pulls his boxers around his waist and then grabs his shirt that was thrown off in a corner, slipping it over his head. “That way, we can go for as long as we want and be as loud as we want to.” he turns to you and gives you a flirty wink, to which you only respond with an airy laugh and a forced half smile. “So, what do you think? Will you be coming over?” He questions once he’s fully dressed.

“Y-yeah, I will be.” You try your best to sound convincing like the idea of meeting him just for sex the next week was just as exciting as it was four months ago when this whole friends-with-benefits thing started.

“Okay, I’ll see you next week, don’t be late.” he heads to the door to your bedroom, slipping on his shoes.

“I won’t” you smile half heartedly and without so much as a bye he opens the door leaving you to clean up all by yourself.

“I know,” he smirks. “You can’t resist me.”

-

You on your way? It’s fifteen past ten.

You barely even noticed the alert tone go off on your phone if it wasn’t for the music in the club changing tracks you wouldn’t have.

Rolling your eyes at the screen, you dryly reply.

That was tonight? I totally forgot

You send to him.

How could you forget about me? We’ve been doing this for the past four months without fail.

He sits up on his bed, squinting slightly at his phone screen.

Must’ve slipped my mind once I had a few drinks.

It didn’t, but you couldn’t see him, not because of how you were feeling tonight. You needed some drinks to get your mind off of him, and you’re so glad your friend decided to accompany you as well.

Drinks? How many did you have? And where did you get them from?

He chews on his index fingernail softly while waiting for a reply.

I’m too drunk to answer all that, but I’m out with some friends.

You reply and down another shot, not caring about your missed date with heeseung.

I can come pick you up, give you some water, and we can finish where we left off if you want

That’s okay. I got a ride.

Oh

From who?

His name is Jake, but I really have to go now. I’ll talk to you sometime later.

Text me when you get home.

Heeseung sighed putting his phone aside and sighing. “Just great now what am I gonna do?” He looked down at the tent in his lap and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed you couldn’t make it he literally changed his sheets and took a shower and got his room ready for the occasion only for you to cancel on him.

Oh well, his parents would still be on vacation for another six days, and you and him could make up for lost time, but for now, he was gonna go to bed and try to forget about the bulge in his underwear.

-

Next week arrived, and you still hadn’t gotten together with heeseung at his place nor at school. Even though he texted you every day, you still hadn’t found time to fit him into your schedule at school. You’d always be running “late” or “not feeling well,” and you left all his text on seen, leaving him to believe you were avoiding him.

Especially after it had been two weeks since you hadn’t bothered to get in touch with him, could you really be that busy for two whole weeks?

Luckily he was able to flag you down today before you left school. “Y/n wait up!” He calls and you immediately stop in your tracks and turn around to face him for the first time in weeks you couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Hey,” you smile softly at him.

“Hey,” he says, sorta out of breath from running to catch up to you. “Just wanted to catch up. We haven’t seen each other in quite a while.”

“Yeah, about that, sorry.” You lowered your head, unable to make eye contact with him. “I’ve just been busy.”

“I see” he starts to walk beside you. “How about now? Do you got any free time for me?” He turns his head to the side to look at you.

“Sure,” you say, feeling unsure you wanted to be with him. You really did, but you wanted more than just sex, and he couldn’t give that to you. Sadly, he made it obvious, so distancing yourself from him felt like the best decision.

“Good, it’s only been two weeks, but I feel like I’m going crazy without feeling you.” he goes behind your back, hugging you as you both waddle down the street to his home. “Hmm, come to my place,” he whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck as he holds you by your torso. “Please?”

“Okay, hee.” You could feel his lips curling into a smile against your skin.

“Hmm, thank goodness I need to feel you so fucking bad” he nibbles your ear rubbing his cheek against yours as he walks you to his house.

Once you enter his house you trudge upstairs after him the sinking feeling making it’s way to your stomach as much as you wanted him the feeling of knowing you would never be with him fully was making you feel down and you barely even wanted to have this friends with benefits relationship with him anymore.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his backpack to the side. “Come here baby” he sat down on the bed and patted his lap calling you over to him.

Read full story HERE!

-