#i KNOW there is a reason why they have to be here-- hi an idea just hit me that is a little insane but it might actually work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amiableness · 2 days ago

Text

Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.

“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.

“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”

“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.

“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.

Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.

You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.

You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.

Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.

In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”

“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”

“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”

Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.

And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.

In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.

“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.

“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.

“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.

“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night.

“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.

“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”

“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”

“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”

“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.

Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”

Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”

Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”

Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”

Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.

Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”

Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”

Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”

“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”

“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.

“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”

Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”

“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”

Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”

Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”

Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.

“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.

Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”

Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.

“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them.

He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.

You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”

“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”

It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.

But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”

On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.

When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.

There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.

The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.

“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction.

From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.

Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.

“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.

“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.

“Yeah.” You confirm.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.

You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.

It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts.

You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.

“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.

“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.

“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy.

“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud.

“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.

As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.

So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed.

You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.

And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.

You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.

It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.

Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.

But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.

“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”

The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.

But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."

“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.

“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.

“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.

“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

272 notes · View notes

wonderjanga · 19 hours ago

Text

I Want My Money.

Billy likes money, he’s said this before, but nearly all the time, money is tight. So, it’s rare when he’ll lend someone a buck or two, and when he lends them a buck, he expects that buck paid back in full.

Marvel: “Ah, Flash! You haven’t paid me back yet. I kinda need my money.” *all kind and nice*

Flash: “Huh? Oh yeah. Don’t worry, man. I got ya.”

Later…

Marvel: *a little more impatiently* “Flash? My twenty? You uh still haven’t gotten it for me.”

Flash: “Yeah dude. I’ll get it to you.”

Even more later…

Marvel: *annoyed* “Flash.” *speaking through grit teeth* “Flash get me my twenty dollars. Now.” *hands on Flash’s shoulders*

Flash: *kinda scared cause he hasn’t seen Marvel ever really show anger* “Dude, I said I’d get it for you.”

Marvel: “Yeah, now. Get it for me now. Please.”

Flash: “I- uh- I’ll be right back.” *zooms off and comes back with a twenty* “Here, man.”

Marvel: *super smiley and normal again* “Thanks, Flash.” *takes the money and walks off like nothing happened*

Flash: “No problem…” *whiplashed at the sudden change*

Wally had like no idea what to make of this interaction. The man was so generous. He didn’t think he’d be this pressed about twenty dollars. Like for example, they found space rock that could’ve been sold for millions apparently and he just gave it all to Wally like it was nothing. (Billy had no idea where to sell it. Bros never heard of eBay, not that he has an electronic device to use it on) But twenty dollars? Wow. Wally didn’t know if Marvel needed his priorities straight or what. All the speedster knew was that he was never gonna cross Marvel about money again. It’s honestly his bad anyways.

Then there was the one time Adam owed him five dollars. Don’t ask him why he lent him the money. Billy now recognizes it was a moment of weakness.

Black Adam and Marvel: *fighting*

Marvel: *stops fighting* “Dude, are you going to pay me back my money?”

Black Adam: *also stops fighting* “What are you talking about? What money?”

Marvel: “My money? Y’know, the five dollars I lent you?”

Black Adam: “Five dollars- I’m not paying you back for that!”

Marvel: “That’s common courtesy, man!”

Black Adam: “I don’t care! I’d rather die than repay you for anything!”

Black Adam didn’t really expect for this to backfire on him. As a result of not paying back a measly five dollars, Adam was met with Marvel appearing in his palace at the ass crack of dawn, demanding his money.

Black Adam: *honestly a little surprised Marvel came to Kahndaq because he’s never really came to the country before* “You do realize you’re breaching my country’s national security-”

Marvel: “I DON’T CARE. Teth, give me my money.”

Black Adam: “You’re willing to risk my country dissolving into war with your country over five dollars?”

Marvel: “Yes? Money. Now.” *makes grabby hands*

Black Adam: “Bumbling idiot…” *massages temples* “I’m not paying you back! How difficult is it to get that through your thick skull?!”

Billy did not like that answer. So now, the Justice League and everyone who had the pleasure of being online the day after this incident were met with a video of Marvel beating on Adam harsher than they, or anyone else for that matter had even seen before.

Marvel: “JUST GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

Black Adam: “NO!”

In the end, Billy still didn’t get his money. And this actually wasn’t because Adam didn’t want to pay, but rather Adam’s country doesn’t use American dollars so he went there, beat up their leader, and basically did it all for nothing. Honestly looking back at it, Billy didn’t really know what he was expecting. Neither his nor Adam suits have pockets, so he kind of doubts that he had a wallet to hold money in the first place. He was honestly just glad Adam, for whatever reason, didn’t follow through on his promise to go to war with America.

So yeah… in conclusion, Billy Batson can, and will crash out over five dollars.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #black adam #teth adam #the flash #wally west

199 notes · View notes

blindmagdalena · 2 days ago

Text

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter seven)

18+ 7k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, heavy dubcon, fingering, clothed/unclothed, dry humping. gif credit | fic directory | AO3

As promised, Homelander allows you an opportunity to say goodbye to the life you knew. After which, he does what he must to prove that you belong with—and to—him.

Days spent with Homelander are simultaneously long and yet strangely fluid, hours blending seamlessly into one another. Every day that he comes home, you endure the flip into what you’ve privately begun to refer to as “performance mode,” in which you’re playing the role of doting girlfriend.

So long as you maintain the idea that it’s a performance, you don’t have to think too much about how good the heat of his body feels against yours. You don’t have to question the ease with which you’ve taken to toying with his hair while the two of you watch television, or why you don’t mind it so much when he rests his head in your lap.

There was a day he came home early and caught you absently dancing in the living room while you tidied. That alone was embarrassing, but it was mundane enough of a thing to be brushed aside, to forget. Except that he wouldn’t. He’d fixated on it like a dog with a bone, and you’d had to endure his relentless teasing about it for the rest of the day.

“You act like you’ve never seen anyone dance before,” you’d said.

“I haven’t,” he said. “Not here.”

Your role here has many names: girlfriend, cook, therapist, maid, lover, and reinventor. It’s about more than just romance. It's a complete transformation of his empty, lonely world.

It’s what you must do to survive.

You learn quickly that he’s a creature of habit, favoring the same routine each day. He gets out of bed at the same time every day, showers for the same amount of time, and asks for the same breakfast that he does not eat.

It drives you crazy to cook a breakfast only to find yourself emptying it into the garbage not an hour later, but the drastic and often unpredictable fluctuations in Homelander’s moods have made you reluctant to question or criticize him.

Besides, what do you care if he eats your food?

Caring is a creature with sharp teeth. It sinks its fangs into the deepest part of you and opens you up to deeper infection. Caring can hurt more than a punch, more than broken bones, more than anything that bleeds. Caring doesn’t break you clean. It’s a bone that doesn’t set, a cut that doesn’t close. Caring is to be vulnerable, to live as an open wound, and one thing you’re entirely certain of is that Homelander cannot be trusted with your vulnerability.

Yet you could not bring yourself to turn away from him. Not after he snapped at you, not after he screwed his eyes shut, not even as he began folding in on himself like a dying star readying to implode. Even though every primal instinct in you told you to run, your feet remained rooted.

You took him into your arms for the same reason you smother a flame rather than blow on it. In doing so, part of you has caught fire, embers continuing to burn.

The way he kissed you lingers on your lips like a ghost. His touches haunt every part of your tingling body, your fingertips numb with adrenaline as you pick up the containers from the coffee table. You can still feel the trail his hot mouth seared down your throat, branding your skin with the memory of his hunger.

He hadn’t embraced you so much as he’d clung to you, his hands testing every inch of the reality of you. He disappeared somewhere so deep in his own mind that it had shocked him stiff when you held him.

A panic attack…?

Strong hands settling on your hips break you out of your daze. Looking over your shoulder, you see Homelander’s smiling face. His eyes are bright and clear, his cheeks no longer streaked with tears. If you didn’t know better–know how easily and abruptly he can switch gears–you’d think you had hallucinated the entire thing.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, recognizing that expectant look on his face. Whatever he said, you didn’t hear it. “I was just thinking. What did you say?”

He huffs a little laugh. “Geeze, talk about a space cadet. C’mon, let’s get you airborne!”

Though your stomach flips, you nod.

I’ll take you flying again. You’ll be conscious this time around.

As soon as you have the containers of food safely tucked into a bag, he wastes no time scooping you up into his arms. The ease with which he lifts you is jarring; it’s less like being picked up by a person, and more like being strapped into a rollercoaster. There’s no sense of give in his strength, and all at once you’re shunted back to the memory of the night you were abducted.

It had felt the same way then, too. His arms coiled around you like steel, his chest a brick wall at your back. He’d held you then as gently as he holds you now. No matter how hard you thrashed, there was no give.

No escape.

Your heart beats hard against your chest, apprehension tightening around your throat like a collar being pulled tight.

When will it stop feeling like this when he touches me?

The derangement of the thought strikes your addled mind belatedly. Never, you remind yourself. His touch should never evoke anything but the fear he’s earned

A sudden rush of cool air from the door opening hits your face, the shift in pressure briefly paralyzing your lungs, halting your shallow breaths. You turn your face from it, nestling instead into the thick, textured fabric of his suit while you fight to catch your breath.

Somewhere over the furious drumming of your heart, you hear him laugh, feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek.

He adjusts you higher up, bringing your face to the crook of his neck. You’re more secure in his grasp this way, and admittedly, you’re grateful for it.

“Relax,” he purrs in your ear. “I won’t let you go.”

Yes, he’s made that abundantly clear.

In an effort to gain some modicum of control, you slip your fingers into the front of his suit collar, gripping the fabric tight. It’s stiffer than you expected it to be, but it at least serves as a good handhold that way. His pulse can be felt in his throat, the beat of it fluttering against the backs of your fingers. It’s quicker than you expected it to be.

You wonder what in the world he has to be nervous about.

“Just give me a warning before you take off, okay?” you ask, focusing on steadying your breathing.

“Before I take off?”

There’s a particular playful lilt to his tone that makes you uneasy.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Can we pretend I did that thirty seconds ago?”

You rear back to look at him, and before you can think better of it, you turn to look down. Your vision tunnels, the edges of it blurring as your eyes fight to adjust to the sudden distance between you and the earth.

The reality of it sets in. It was one thing to understand his capacity for flight in theory, what it would be like to fly with him, but nothing could have prepared you for this. There’s nothing stabilizing you but him, the plummet below a nauseating hundred storey drop. Against your every wish, your stomach starts to churn violently.

Tucking back against him, eyes screwed tightly shut, you mumble, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Homelander sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s really gonna ruin someone’s day down there.”

“Shhh’up,” you slur, white-knuckling his collar with one hand, the other clutching the bag of food to your chest. “I changed my mind, take me back, take me back. Can we please just take the elevator and drive? I really don’t want to–”

“Hey, hey, relax,” he coos, tilting backwards, bringing more of your weight against his body. The movement only makes you feel sicker. ”Closing your eyes only makes it worse. Y’gatta adjust.”

You shake your head and swear you can feel water sloshing back and forth in your skull. “Take me back, please take me back.”

Warm lips press against your forehead, his breath wafting over your scalp.

“It’ll pass,” he says with the certainty of experience. “It’s worth it. Trust me.”

Trust him? The audacity of the ask is enough to make you temporarily forget your peril and look up at him through narrowed glassy eyes.

“Why in the world would I trust you?” you ask through your teeth, emboldened by your incredulity despite the way the tension in your body makes your muscles tremble faintly.

His grin doesn’t falter as he asks in turn, “What’s your alternative?”

Your lips part on an incredulous breath, disbelieving that he would be so blatant about it.

In the three days you’ve spent with Homelander, there have been both ambiguous and unambiguous moments of cruelty. Moments where you were certain he was rubbing your captivity in your face, mocking you.

Other times he seems so desperately lost you can almost understand the way he clings to you. Times where his cruelty comes not from an understanding of what will hurt you, but a complete inability to comprehend that you’re a living, breathing person with your own complicated innerworkings.

“You’re unreal,” you say, mystified by the enigma he presents.

“And you’re flying,” he says in your same tone, those ocean blue eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.

You take in a breath to retort, but pause. Though your grip on his collar remains tight, you’re no longer shaking. For a moment there, you’d honestly forgotten where you were. Leaning against him like this, with more of your weight supported on his wrought iron frame, you don’t feel quite so much like you’re precariously dangling.

Though your heart is still racing, and your mouth's as dry as sand, you don’t feel immediately ready to eject your lunch anymore.

“Don’t look down this time,” he tells you, towards the horizon. “Look out.”

Hesitantly, you turn your head to follow his gaze.

The view is surreal.

The afternoon sky is a clear and vibrant blue that the maze of steel buildings below reflect, giving the entire city an oceanic hue. Hundreds upon hundreds of windows lit with warm lights dot the way like fireflies in a field.

In the distance, the sun has fallen low enough that it casts a golden glow across the water. It refracts the light in endless shimmering waves. The spectacle of it is enough to make you forget that this isn’t some fantastical world, that you live here.

Never could you have fathomed seeing the world like this with your own eyes.

“Fuck me,” you murmur, slightly dazed.

Homelander barks a laugh. “What, now?”

Ignoring him, you tentatively let your gaze drift lower. From this distance, all you can see of the lives below you are faint black dots, the flow of them reminiscent of an ant colony. The same loud bustling streets that you used to walk every day are silent from this vantage point, giving the city an uncharacteristic sense of calm. It’s the world–your world–as you’ve never seen it before.

“See?” You feel the heat of the word against your temple as much as you hear it, his lips brushing along your hairline. “I told you it was worth it.”

You tear your attention from the cityscape and bring it back to Homelander.

While you’ve always distantly acknowledged that he’s attractive, he’s undeniably beautiful like this. Bathed in the glow of golden hour, his skin looks Midas touched, and the blue of his eyes is even more vibrant, the light giving them an almost crystalline appearance.

All over again you’re struck by the fact that, whether you want him or not, he’s inexplicably yours. Your captor, your roommate, your warden, your boyfriend, your gilded cage. You’re only where you are now–soaring above the city beyond the confines of that penthouse–because you found it in yourself to be all the things he wants you to be. The more you give, the more you get.

Play your part. Reap the reward.

This is survival.

“You were right. It’s beautiful,” you say, relinquishing your grip on his collar to instead slip your arm around his neck, leaning in to press your cheek to his in a make-shift embrace. You feel his surprise in the slight hitch of tension in his body before he relaxes back into you.

“Can I ask you something? Something about us. Or… about me, I guess,” you say, staring at the world from over his shoulder. Only now has your pulse begun to calm enough that you can properly hear yourself over the rush of your own blood.

His flag of a cape billows in the wind behind him as he flies languidly through the air, giving you something near to focus on.

“Sure you can,” he says, feigning ease that doesn’t quite ring sincere.

He doesn’t like it when you ask too many questions, or start poking holes in the idyllic little fantasy you’ve been living for him.

“Why did you choose me?”

There’s a pause while he mulls over the question, the droning winds around you filling the empty space. Your stomach gives a small flip as he shifts, changing his flight path, making you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, said the wrong thing.

You draw back to meet his gaze, but his expression doesn’t betray any kind of upset.

“I’ll show you,” he says, the words punctuated by a wink, though the gesture doesn’t exude his usual self assured bravado. Based on the tension in his jaw, you get the sense he’s actually masking a buried nervousness.

Within minutes, you’re soaring over a part of the city you recognize with stark familiarity. Seeing your route to work from this angle has a surreal quality to it, like remembering a dream in vivid detail. It’s difficult to fathom that less than a week ago, this was your life.

Drifting to the ledge of a nearby building, he sits on the edge of it, adjusting you on his lap. While the height remains dizzying if you think too much about it, you can’t deny that the warm strength of his arms have given you a firm sense of security.

“I used to come here a lot during my downtime. Between meetings and location work,” he explains, taking in a deep breath.

You do the same, cool air filling your lungs. It’s warm out, but the altitude brings in enough of a chill from the ocean to offset the late afternoon summer heat.

“I got familiar with this spot. The people, their routines,” he says, head lightly bobbing side to side.

“You saw me,” you fill in as understanding dawns.

“Yeah. I saw you,” he echoes, following the walkways below as if he’s tracing your path to work in the same way you are. “Every day.”

“You were really out here every day?” you ask with a lilt of surprise, looking at him. “I never saw you before.”

“People almost never do. You’d be surprised how rarely people ever look up.”

You hum quietly. Already you feel isolated from the world below. Nothing more than an observer. Knowing him as you do now, you can only imagine how outside of it all he really feels.

“Do you ever… go down there? Not as Homelander, but just as yourself.”

“I am Homelander.”

“No, no, I know, but…” You falter, wanting to be delicate. “You were someone else first, weren’t you?”

His gaze turns distant, no longer focusing on the streets below. “No.”

You think again of the young boy in the empty room holding back tears, and your heart grows heavy in your chest. That child–and the man he grew into–had to have had a name once, didn’t he? It’s unfathomable to think he didn’t. Homelander isn’t really a name. It’s a persona, a product patented and sold by Vought.

To have a name is to exist in people’s minds and hearts as a whole person. Whether the name is a gift or a choice, there is soul in a name. More than just an identity, a name is a love language. Be it a given name, nicknames, pet names, to name something is to love it.

Names begin in the heart, form on the tongue, become shaped by lips and cradled by voice. They're an intimacy not only of the body, but of the mind and soul.

Surely he has a name beyond the hero’s title of Homelander.

Project Odessa.

You take in a breath, the question poised on your tongue, but Homelander speaks first.

“I don’t remember when, but you started to stand out. Couldn’t take my eyes off you. I wanted to know more, so… I learned more. And I saw that you were lonely,” he says, but you’ve learned to read between the lines when he tells you things about yourself.

I was lonely.

“You needed someone.”

I needed someone.

“Someone to take care of.”

Someone to take care of me.

“I wanted to save you.”

I wanted you to save me.

“And I did.”

He looks at you then, his expression difficult to parse. There’s a challenge in his gaze, as if he’s daring you to contradict him, but that defiance isn’t enough to cancel out the fragility that always seems to linger when he admits to any sort of genuine feeling.

“I saved you,” he reinforces, voice quieter, firmer.

Sitting hundreds of feet in the air, you’re reminded that this isn’t a normal conversation.

This is a matter of survival.

Play your part. Reap the reward.

“Thank you.”

The tight line of his lips relaxes, spreading into a smile. It radiates the same sort of satisfied pride that he always gets when you show him gratitude for all he’s done for you.

To me, you correct yourself, fighting to keep those lines from blurring. When you look at your life through his eyes, you cannot deny that it looks small. Inconsequential. Lonely. Sad.

None of that changes the fact that it was yours. That it is yours. That he had no right to take it from you when he had every opportunity to ask to be part of it.

The worst part is that, given the choice, you’re starting to feel like you would have said yes.

It’s a conflicted kind of relief when he closes his eyes and presses his lips lightly to yours. The heat of his mouth–the instant memory of his tongue, his teeth, his roaming hands–sends a hot rush through you, but unlike last time the kiss is fleeting and chaste.

“Aaaalrighty,” he says, his voice suddenly full of vigor and performative boom. It’s a wonder he doesn’t give himself a headache with how quickly he’s prone to switching gears. “Let’s get this grubhub goin’.”

He pushes off of the ledge and your stomach lurches the way it would at the start of a rollercoaster, a drop followed by a sudden lift. Your arm tightens around his neck while his smile lingers, clearly pleased by the clinginess this has imposed on you.

You don’t have to tell him where to go. He knows exactly the alley to land in, sinking between buildings to the very back, as not to be observed by the bustling crowd below. You’d grown used to the noise of the crowds, but after several days of quiet, the clamor of New York is borderline deafening. It makes you wince and reflexively press on one ear, plugging it while you adjust.

Regardless of the noise, you feel an instant relief when your feet hit the ground. Homelander’s hands linger on your hip and your elbow, steadying you.

“Well?” he prompts. “You glad we flew?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” you say, huffing a quiet laugh. “I very much almost lost my lunch, but… yeah, I’ll admit it was worth it,” you say, checking on the containers of food packed away.

You’d considered hiding some kind of message amidst the food, but it felt too risky. There was too good of a chance that Homelander would check, and if he did, you wouldn’t have made it this far at all.

For all you know, he did check. You’re still not certain if he really has x-ray vision, or if that’s an invention of Vought’s for the movies. Better safe than sorry.

Maybe you won’t need a hidden message. Maybe you’ll be able to get across to John, without saying a word, that something isn’t right.

“If you wait here, I’ll be–”

“What, I’m not allowed to meet your friends?” he interrupts, hands on his hips.

“Oh, uh.” You blink, holding his gaze uncertainly. “I didn’t… think you’d want to.”

Homelander waves his hand dismissively.

“If he’s important to you, he’s important to me,” he says, slipping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Besides, next to children, the unhoused are our most vulnerable population,” he says, sounding entirely too much like a politician with a list of talking points. “Anything could happen to him. I can keep a close eye on him for you, make sure he doesn’t get into any unnecessary trouble.”

His smile is too wide, too wolfish, and with a terrible chill you understand the words for the threat that they are.

If John causes problems for him, Homelander will remedy them.

Am I making a mistake?

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Okay… Sure.”

Despite how heavily Homelander’s words hang over your head, you very nearly take flight yourself with the swell relief that hits you when you see John sitting at the end corner of the alleyway, hands busy with a Rubik’s Cube. He’s an imposing looking man in his late thirties, bearded and tall, but he’s never made you feel unsafe. He’s kind, and most importantly, he’s familiar.

You take in a sharp breath of excitement, his name on the tip of your tongue, but a crimson leather clad hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into the shadow of the building. Homelander pins you back against him, one hand keeping you quiet while the other slips around your middle, locking you in place.

Did he change his mind, or was this all just a game from the start? Your wide eyes prickle with tears.

“Ground rules,” he says, voice low in your ear. “We’ve been together for a couple of weeks, but for your own safety, it’s been kept a secret. You quit your dead-end job and traveled to Europe with me, from which we’ve just recently returned. Got it?”

Huffing shallow little breaths from your nose, heart racing, you nod.

“If I see any funny business, I’ll break his neck.”

You close your eyes, every beat of your heart a painful jab. His voice has the same cool hollowness it did when he warned you not to lie to him. It’s him, and yet simultaneously sounds like an entirely different person.

“Nod if you understand.”

A beat, and then you nod.

“Good girl,” he says, his smile audible in his praise. His hand slips away from your mouth and he kisses your temple, straightening out your clothes. His arm slinks around your waist, hand settling heavily on your hip. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

Rattled, you rub the tears from your eyes and take in a steadying breath, trepidation replacing your excitement. Dread pools in your stomach, the tide of it rising with every step, but you still manage to smile once you’re in earshot of your friend.

“Hey, John,” you call gently, lifting a hand to wave when he meets your gaze.

John does a double take, glancing up once, then twice, recognition flipping to confusion, and then rounding back to delight. He smiles broadly from beneath his wiry beard, pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against.

“I’ll be damned,” he says as he approaches you. “You had me worried! I was beginning to think y–” he stops himself, belatedly noticing Homelander at your side. His eyes widen a fraction, and then his brows furrow.

In his myriad of expressions, you recognize yourself. That first night you woke up, how confused you were by where you were and who you were with. The whole thing felt like a dream, and John looks as though he’s wondering if this is one, too.

As a New Yorker, seeing Homelander–or any member of the Seven–in the flesh typically means one of two things: you’ve stumbled onto a promotional event, or trouble is close at hand.

“Is everything alright?” he settles on asking, the priority of his concern for you instantly warming your chattering heart.

“More than alright,” Homelander answers when you take too long, flashing a winning smile. He gives your hip a squeeze, prompting you.

You clear your throat, lifting the bag off of your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yes, I’ve just–I’ve been away,” you say, already tripping over the lies catching in your throat.

If I see any funny business, I’ll break his neck.

Thanks to you, John’s life rides on this conversation, and he has no clue. You kick yourself internally, desperate to get your shit together for both your sakes.

“It was really impromptu, but, uhm, I didn’t want you to worry, and I have news, so I–” you flash Homelander a look, as if to say let me sell this, and he reluctantly withdraws his arm. “I asked Homelander if he’d come along, because I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me,” you say, forcing out a little laugh.

John hesitantly takes the bag when you offer it, but he’s looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, his eyes occasionally darting over to Homelander, who continues to stand akimbo behind you. “Believe you…?”

“That I’m dating Homelander,” you say, pulling your lips back in what you can only hope is a convincing smile, and not just a manic show of teeth.

“Oh,” he says, looking no less puzzled.

The whole situation is bizarre beyond words. That you would come to him, an acquaintance that you’ve known only through habit, through the quick conversations you’ve had in the transitional spaces between work and home, seems insane. That you would care that he knows or that he believes you’re dating New York’s premium hero.

Of course he won’t see that you’re a hostage. Why the hell would he?

You feel out of your mind the same way you did sitting on that stupid couch, punching in website after website after website. It’s futile. You’re outside, you’re right in front of another person, someone who would be just as horrified as you are to know the truth, and yet you can’t say a damn thing.

This will always be true. Whether you’re standing in front of a stranger, an acquaintance, or your dearest loved ones, your truth will put them in danger.

All because of one lonely little boy.

Your smile holds firm, but your eyes well with tears.

“I quit my job,” you say, fighting back the sob threatening to choke you. “So I won’t see you anymore. But I, uhm–I just wanted to say goodbye. So, goodbye,” you say, moving to turn away before your emotions betray you any further, but John catches you by the shoulder, his touch light and painfully human.

“Hey, you take care of yourself,” he says, looking to be shaking off the shellshock from what you’ve presented. “Y’always seem to be taking care of other people and their problems, so… Take care of you, too. If not for yourself, you’ll do that for me, yeah? For old time’s sake,” he says with a smile, giving the bag a little shake.

You stare at him, the confession of it all sitting heavily on the tip of your tongue.

Help me! you want to shout. I can’t do this alone. I can’t take care of this myself. I need help. It’s too much. I’m scared.

You start to move towards him, and his opposite arm opens, as if ready to embrace you.

“Lucky for her,” Homelander interrupts, hoisting you suddenly into his arms and out of John’s reach, shattering any potential illusions. “She’s got me to take care of her now,” he says, his Hollywood smile stretched instead into a thin sneer.

“Great to meet’cha, pal,” he spits, voice devoid of any actual camaraderie. Tears burn in your eyes as his fingertips dig into you, his grip like a vice, like chains slipping back around your limbs. “Enjoy the food.”

Anything John might have said in response is swallowed up by the rush of air parting around him as Homelander shoots up into the sky, leaving your world in the dust, and any hope you had with it.

The flight back to the penthouse is quiet.

Homelander flies faster than he did on the way out, itching to be back within the safe, predictable confines of home. You’re tense in his hold, but both of your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face tucked in under his jaw, and he takes pleasure in that, at least.

It’s a miracle he didn’t rip that filthy fuckers arm off for the way he grabbed you, for the way he tried to pull you into his arms.

God damn pervert is what he is.

You’re too naive to see it, but he isn’t, and there wasn’t a fucking chance he was going to let the guy cop one last feel before you were spirited away for good. The thought alone is enough to set his teeth on edge, to make him consider paying the son of a bitch a little visit anyways.

He grits his teeth.

No one touches his things.

It sets off something primal in him. A gnawing, feverish compulsion to claim you so thoroughly there could be no doubt that you’re his. He wants to fuck you, to mark you so obviously that no other man will ever touch you like that again.

By the time he lands on the concrete slab of his balcony, you’re shaking up a storm. He maneuvers inside without putting you down, as you’ve made no move to let go of him.

Something isn’t right.

He rubs your back, mimicking the patterns you make when you rub his, pausing when you suddenly make a choked noise that sounds suspiciously close to a sob.

What the hell? He did exactly what you asked him to. You’re supposed to be happy.

He carries you to his bed, a dozen versions of the two of you reflected back in the surrounding mirrors, and sets you down gently. Your arms slide loose from his neck and fall limply to your sides. Bending down, he cups either side of your face and brings your gaze up to meet his, perplexed to find your eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey,” he says softly, swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as it falls. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

You shut your eyes and make a sound he can’t make sense of, something between exasperation and agony. Though you try to pull out of his grip, he holds you in place, refusing to let you run from this.

From him.

“No, no. Look at me. I did what you asked,” he says, impatience slowly wringing the gentleness from his voice.

Your eyes are red and glassy, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and over his thumbs.

Christ.

This is a far cry from what he had in mind when he thought earlier about how you’d make it up to him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, taking hold of his wrists. “I just want to go home.”

His expression falls, brows furrowed in confusion, dismay, anger.

“What’re you talking about? You are home. You’re happy here. You have everything, you–I’ve given you everything,” he says, though a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that isn’t true.

He hasn’t given everything. Not yet. He’s been holding back. You both have, and now you’re both suffering.

Enough, he thinks. Hasn't he been deprived long enough?

Haven't you?

You try again to pull away, but this time he pulls you forward, pressing his lips to yours. You make a sound against his mouth that sounds like surprise, but all that matters now is the thrum of your skin against his.

“Doesn’t have to be like this,�� he says between kisses, following you as you pull backwards, his knee hitting the bed as he crawls over top of you. He lets his hands roam, learning you in the way he’s been aching to since the day he decided that you would be his, and that he would be yours.

“You have no idea how fucking good I can make you feel.”

Pleasure has always been his greatest comfort. The ability to shut down his brain, to quiet the voices and focus solely on the physical. He needs it, and now more than ever, he can see that you need it, too.

He kisses your jaw, your cheek, kisses the wet streaks from your skin and licks the salt of them from his lips.

“I can make it go away,” he murmurs, undeterred by your hands pushing against his chest. You have a nasty habit of fighting what’s good for you.

“I’ll make you happy if you’d just let me.”

Your clothes put up less resistance than you do, the designer material tearing with ease. He swallows up your gasp with another kiss, slips his tongue into your mouth and grazes your teeth with it, daring you to bite.

Your pulse thunders in his ears, but not even the acridity of the fear coursing through you can hide the sweet heat of arousal seeping from between your thighs.

His own body aches in kind, cock throbbing needily behind his cup. His mind has already started to fog, the sting of rejection soothed by the need he can feel building in every part of your body.

You want him. You do. He can feel it in the drumming of every climbing throb he hears your body give.

“All this teasing, this tension, it can all end. We’re so close to what we both want now, what we both need.” His hand slips lower, forcing your legs apart enough to drag his middle finger over your cunt through the satiny fabric of your panties, savoring the way it makes you shudder.

“I don’t want this,” you say, hardly sounding convinced of it yourself.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me, ” he says, taking his hand away only to bite the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off with his teeth and tossing it aside. He moves it right back to your pussy, pressing in firmly to finally feel the hot, soaked patch of fabric against his bare skin.

“Look who’s all wet.”

“Why are you doing this?” There’s a tremble running through your voice, through your body.

He huffs an incredulous little breath.

“I’m doing this for you. For us. I’m doing this because you don’t know how to let yourself be happy,” he says, drawing back to look at you. You’re beautiful like this. Eyes glassy and vibrant, skin hot under his touch. “All you have to do is let go, and I’ll make all the bad stuff go away.”

You don’t respond, but he knows by the look of you that he’s struck a chord. He kisses you again, and this time, you don’t try to turn away. Instead, both of your hands slip into his hair, and to his elation, you kiss him back.

He moans against your lips, shifting onto his side next to you so that he can better maneuver his hand, bringing his fingers up to slip them into your underwear, letting out a low sound for the feel of your velvety wet cunt under his bare fingers.

“Keep breathing,” he reminds you, acutely attuned to every inch of you, including when your breath catches. “That’s it… Good girl.”

The last thing he needs now is for you to pass out.

He kisses a trail down from your shoulder to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts before he kisses an apology into the soft skin, only to suck a mark at that same spot. He spreads your own slick from your cunt to your clit, massaging it between his middle and index finger.

You suck in a ragged breath, you whimper, and in that sound he knows he finally has you hook, line and sinker.

That’s when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above. You shudder, turning your head away as if ashamed, but he won’t let you hide from this.

“Ah, ah, none of that. No shame in this. It’s a tale as old as time, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his middle finger slowly into the silky clench of your pussy.

“Boy meets girl… Girl falls for boy… Boy fucks her brains out,” he half laughs, half rasps, hooking his leg over yours both to pull your legs wider apart, and to give himself your thigh to grind against.

He angles his thumb to rub your clit while his finger crooks, stroking inside you until he finds that delicate, puffy little bundle of nerves he’s been taught to look for. More than just by the feel of it, he knows he’s found it when your hips jerk suddenly, and you look at him as though he’s just invented the spot.

“I told you,” he rumbles, kissing you slow, wet, hungry, “that I would make you feel good.”

He adds another finger, fucking you with them slowly, his pace building gradually. He imagines how it’ll feel to have his cock where his fingers are, and he nearly comes in his pants at the thought alone, his hips jerking against you.

“Look at yourself,” he sighs, his other hand cupping the back of your neck. “Look at yourself,” he says again, harsher this time, and your eyes snap up to the mirror above you.

You’re a mess, clothes torn apart and splayed under and around you, hickeys forming where he’s abused your skin with his lips. You’re fucking yourself down on his hand entirely of your own accord now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in the sheets. Your tears have dried and there’s only sweet, mindless pleasure left in your eyes.

He’s never known a pain he couldn’t fuck away. He knew you’d be the same.

“So fucking perfect for me,” he coos, breath hitching on his own mounting pleasure. Your pussy squeezes his fingers, the lewd cacophony of pleasure filling the room the closer you get to the brink.

“Homelander,” you keen, voice fractured and sweet as sugar.

He kisses his name from your lips, licks up the honied taste of it while he fucks you deeper, faster, his pace never once faltering, not even as you begin to thrash against him. He can’t tell if you’re trying to get closer or further, but he holds you tightly in place, gritting his teeth against the pleasure while he shamelessly humps your leg.

Your shallow breaths take on a pitchy sound as you writhe, as if part of you is still fighting him, fighting your pleasure, but in the end, it’s a battle you lose. Your cunt locks up like a vice around his fingers, your orgasm throbbing inside and out, your clit fluttering against his thumb.

You’re robbed of breath, of sound, and of sense as you come, capable of nothing more than a silent cry as pleasure–the pleasure he gave you–wracks your body.

He fucks you through it, relishing the way your quivering cunt squeezes his fingers, greedily pulling him back in on every thrust. It’s too much–you’re too much–and he loses himself to it, giving a ragged gasp as he comes shortly after. His eyes roll back, pulse after pulse of sweet pleasure filling his cup with liquid heat.

“I love you,” he gasps, nearly choking on the words, rocking against your still-trembling form. “I–fffuck, I love you, I love you so much.”

He’s languid but no less ravenous in the way he kisses your chest, your throat, your jaw, your mouth, all while his fingers rock lazily in and out of your cunt. Still coming down from his own high, he doesn’t stop until you’re grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand away, pleading your overstimulation with nothing but soft noises.

He licks his fingers clean, intoxicated by the feel, taste and smell of you. A shiver runs through you, and it’s only then that he realizes he forgot to shut the balcony door behind him.

Too enraptured to move, to risk breaking the spell your bodies have cast over one another, he drapes his cape over your naked body, tucking you in against his chest.

Satisfied that he’s made his point, that you finally understand the gift he’s wanted to give you all along, he wraps both arms around you and nuzzles against the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crown.

While ending your first tryst sticky and wet in his pants wasn't his ideal scenario, he'll take it. The weight of you in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, more than makes up for it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, the words slurring together slightly. He strokes your back, holding you close as the tremors subside. He gladly takes credit for the way your breaths even out, for the way you sink into his arms, the resistance wrung from your muscles.

All that’s left now is bliss.

“That’s my girl.” And you are, without a shadow of a doubt, his.

#i did it!!! 😭#i'm not ENTIRELY sure all the correct ways to tag this chapter but it's a heavy one #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #x reader #yandere x reader #my writing #homelander fanfiction #center stage in a gilded cage

151 notes · View notes

lost-romantique · 3 days ago

Text

Updating this post to include evidence from Ghostfuckers...

"OH THAT BIRD STEALING COCK BAG!"

One of the main contentions as to why people were into the idea of a love triangle was because they wanted to see more Jealous Blitz.

I think this had to do with people thinking that Blitz was a lot stronger than he really is. A lot of people thought that, "Well, Blitz is a strong guy, and I think he can fight for love, and fight for Stolas' affections."

But the problem is that isn't what happened...

Instead we got this...

GIF Credits to @angelshizuka

A pathetic image of a man who literally spent the entirety of one month holed up in his office, gorging himself in ice cream, watching porn, and spending all his company's assets on the stupidest shit imaginable.

Blitz is angry at Millie for calling what he and Stolas had as a breakup when they were never in a relationship, but he turns his head and his voice breaks when he says the words, "...and we never will."

The tone of his words express hopelessness and remorse, but the main conclusion I got from those words is, I give up.

How can there be a love triangle, when one man's already given up?

The one thing that Ghostfuckers makes blatantly obvious is how much Blitz is aware of his fuck ups in his relationship with Stolas, and just how deep his feelings for Stolas actually go.

Blitz regrets rejecting Stolas' reaching hand in Ozzie's

Blitz regrets accusing Stolas of only assuming that their entire relationship was based on sex.

Blitz regrets ever receiving the crystal, and considers it one of the most traumatic moments of his life, because losing the book and gaining the crystal was equivalent to losing Stolas.

Blitz regrets pushing Stolas away during their argument in Apology Tour.

Blitz regrets ever making Stolas think that he never gave a shit about him, when the opposite is true.

Blitz regrets even questioning Stolas' love for him because these are the words Blitz says to Stolas during this scene.

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?"

Or perhaps the reason why this memory is here is from the response Stolas gives to him instead, indicating a place of pain. "Blitz. There is a crowd full of people here, who cared so much, they'd throw an entire fucking party about hating you, every year! Do you know how much you have to care to do something as stupid as that?"

The last image of Stolas in Blitz's memory is his kiss with BTB, indicating a look of pure envy and hurt.

We the audience are aware of the fact that Stolas was lost in the throes of passion and happily engaged in that drunken kiss, both sets of his eyes are closed and he's just lost in the moment, not fully aware of his surroundings.

However, in Blitz's memory, Stolas' upper set of eyes are open and for Blitz, he didn't see that kiss as a drunk kiss. No, he saw that kiss as Stolas moving on from him. Look how happy Stolas' upper eyes are to be kissing BTB.

For Blitz, that's the only thing he needs to see to indicate that Stolas has moved on from him.

Even if Blitz was able to acknowledge his feelings for Stolas by the end of Ghostfuckers, that doesn't mean he's going to fight for Stolas' affections if he sees Stolas genuinely in love with another man.

Blitz isn't that strong, emotionally. This man does not have the heart to fight for something if he feels unwanted or unloved, he'll just count his losses and move on.

It's what Blitz did with Fizz. Blitz saw Fizz was genuinely happy and in love with Ozzie, and while he makes jokes with him, he isn't taking any active steps to actually break them apart.

Don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean he won't come for Stolas if he sees him in danger. I have no doubt that seeing Stolas in danger will push Blitz into action to save him and protect him.

But to fight for his love? Make attempts to appeal himself to Stolas while dating another guy? Actually try to break Stolas apart from someone else that he (in Blitz's eyes) is happily in love with? No. Blitz won't do that.

Me the moment Stolitz becomes a love triangle...

NOTHING YOU PEOPLE SAY WILL EVER CONVINCE ME THAT A LOVE TRIANGLE IS A GOOD IDEA!!

*cough* This is to address the concerns that people have been messaging me on reddit and tumblr.

~~~

Oh Stolas needs to experience a healthy romantic relationship...

The man needs friends. For fucks sakes, stop trying to get in his pants and get this man to join a fucking book club or something. He's lonely.

Don't you think it would be romantic if Stolas actually chose to be with Blitz in the end?

Why does Stolas choosing Blitz always have to involve Stolas breaking the heart of another guy in the process?

I want Stolas to experience that fairy tale romance.

They don't exist.

We can get more jealous Blitz.

No, we are getting more "Depressed Blitz that thinks he's gonna die alone because this man has a major inferiority complex the size of fucking Jupiter."

Blitz already had his chance...

The man didn't even know he was taking a test?

Blitz needs to fix himself first before he gets in a relationship with Stolas...

Blitz needs to deal with the root of his intimacy issues, yes. However, the idea that someone has to fix themselves in order to be in a relationship is a rather ableist viewpoint I do not condone.

Stolas also has problems that prevent him from getting in a normal relationship, but that's a whole other can of worms I don't want to open.

Blitz made Stolas cry!

STOP. IGNORING. HIS. FEELINGS.

This man has been in the verge of sobbing his eyes out in Full Moon and Apology Tour, and y'all didn't notice because Stolas didn't notice.

A love triangle will save their relationship.

Oh yes, who needs proper communication when the true answer all along was introducing a new person to the trash fire that is their problems. /j

Blitz and Stolas should just remain friends, and go find other partners.

Blitz has a body count of people he could have ended up with, but he didn't give a shit about any of them because that damn bird changed his brain chemistry so hard he went to a Party dedicated to hating his sorry ass.

And Stolas...

couldn't even forget about the motherfucker after going 25 years no contact. Do you honestly think he's going to get over him now after falling in love with the guy?

I'll be blunt, these guys also have way too much history together to remain "just friends" and stay "just friends".

Do I think they need to know each other as friends first before they start a serious relationship? Of course! But I also think these guys are gonna suck at being "just friends" and remaining "just friends".

Blitz and Stolas aren't endgame.

If these idiots were not endgame, than Brandon and Viv wasted four years of ours and their time on a relationship that was never going to come into fruition.

Also, the show is about Blitz and has always been about Blitz. The reason why Stolas is such an important character is because their building him up to be this red lizard's main love interest.

I am so tired. 😫

213 notes · View notes

errorryx · 1 day ago

Text

melodrama

read on ao3 | wild life, grumbo, 1.1k words

“I don’t like that one bit!” Mumbo tells him. “I’m all the friend that you need.”

And that’s when Grian gets an idea. A horrible, wonderful idea.

—

So maybe he had goals in mind. Maybe he had plans. Maybe he wanted this season to be something completely different from what it’s becoming. None of that matters anymore, because Grian’s self-control is shot to hell the second he hears those words. He should know better by now than to have faith in himself.

Here’s what matters now: Mumbo is Grian’s and Grian’s is his, to an extent that makes it hard to care about anything else. And Grian desperately wants to see how far Mumbo will go to keep it that way.

The wildcard ending early is the best excuse he could have hoped for. He goes back home with Mumbo and Skizz for the night, then sneaks out as loudly and obviously as he dares. Skizz could sleep through a hurricane, but Grian knows Mumbo will hear him. He doesn’t have to look back to know that Mumbo is watching as he slips out the front door.

Mumbo follows him up the cherry stairs. He’s making an effort to be quiet, but Grian can still hear soft footsteps behind him.

On top of the mountain, a red Scar awaits him. He’s sound asleep, but he’s still so very Scar, snoring softly, eyelids fluttering, one arm curled protectively around Jimmy beside him. There’s a part of Grian that wants to be in Jimmy’s place, or even Scar’s, but it’s not enough to lose sight of his objective. It’s not enough to forget the furious tension from the man standing behind him.

“I knew it,” Mumbo hisses, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are trying to leave us.”

He seems to be trying not to disturb the sleeping trio in front of Grian. But as always, Mumbo is careful but not careful enough. Lizzie twitches immediately, and Scar shifts in his sleep only moments after.

Grian turns around, not even bothering to feign surprise. “Shh,” he whispers back. “You’ll wake them up.”

“Fine,” Mumbo says, and stomps closer to grab Grian by the hem of his shirt. All the blood rushes to Grian’s head as Mumbo drags him away, past the giant parrots and halfway down the mountain. “There. Now explain yourself.”

He keeps a tight grip on Grian’s sweater, as if that’s enough to keep Grian somewhere he doesn’t want to be. It’s a good thing for Mumbo that Grian’s exactly where he wants to be right now.

“I just wanted to talk to Scar about something,” Grian says innocently. He doesn’t try to shake Mumbo off or push him away, just lets him do what he wants. “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about it.”

“You had plenty of time to talk to Scar all day,” Mumbo huffs. “The only reason to wait until the middle of the night is if you’re trying to ditch us.”

“So you really meant it, then.”

“Meant what?”

“You told me you didn’t want me to have other friends, remember?”

“And clearly I was right,” Mumbo says, “because apparently, your definition of ‘having friends’ means sneaking off in the middle of the night behind my back. Who knows what you would have done if I hadn’t caught you.”

“Who knows,” Grian echoes. “Certainly not me.” He’s not even lying; he didn’t plan on saying anything to Scar. He correctly assumed that Mumbo would stop him before that point.

Mumbo’s eyes narrow. “Don’t lie. You’re up to something, I know it.”

“Up to something? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“Just tell me the truth,” Mumbo says. “We’re supposed to be a team, Grian!”

Grian shrugs, unimpressed. “You want to know the real reason I went to visit Scar?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“It was just to get your attention. I wanted to see you freak out on me.”

Mumbo’s expression goes from anger to complete bafflement. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Really? You don’t get it?” Grian sighs at Mumbo’s blank stare. “Let go of me already and I’ll tell you.”

To his surprise, Mumbo listens. Now free to do as he pleases, Grian explains himself in the easiest way he can think of—he takes a few steps back and lunges, latching onto Mumbo with all four limbs.

It’s a close thing; Mumbo very nearly topples over. Grian folds his legs around Mumbo’s waist and rests his head on Mumbo’s shoulder, speaking softly in his ear. “It’s because I like when you’re being awful, you spoon.”

“You do?”

“Of course! I do it all the time, don’t I? I wouldn’t dish it out if I couldn’t take it.”

“Yes you would,” Mumbo says. “Repeatedly. Habitually, even.”

Grian sticks out his tongue at him, even though he knows Mumbo won’t be able to see it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You really like it, though?” Mumbo asks him. “I thought for sure you were getting sick of me.”

“Then why keep doing it?”

This question stumps him for a bit. Finally, Mumbo splutters out, “I suppose once I got started, I didn’t know how to stop.”

Grian can’t do anything but laugh at this answer. “See? Now you know how it feels!”

“It felt so natural,” Mumbo says. He’s starting to sound ashamed, and Grian can’t have that. “I didn’t even question it. Something must be wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Grian insists, leaning back to look Mumbo in the eyes. He has to wrap both hands around the back of Mumbo’s neck to do it, so he tries not to squeeze very hard. “In fact, I think you should get worse.”

“Well, I think you’re a terrible influence on me.”

“I think you like it.”

“I do,” Mumbo says, clearly distressed by this fact. “It’s horrible. This is not how we win a death game, Grian!”

Part of Grian wants to tell him that he’ll try his best to help Mumbo win, but he isn’t in the business of giving out false hope. Another part of him wants to try and convince Mumbo that winning isn’t worth the effort, but that approach could easily backfire. He’s left with only one option in the end, the same option as always.

Deny, deflect, distract. Keep the game-within-a-game going. Never leave time to stop and rethink.

“We could burn down the parrots tomorrow,” Grian suggests. “Kill some dark greens. Kick Skizz out of the group. Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of all those things,” Mumbo says. “But I really only want one thing.”

Grian laughs. “Don’t worry,” he tells Mumbo. “It’s already yours.”

—

if you read this all the way through and enjoyed, please consider reblogging!

#grian #mumbo jumbo #wild life #wild life spoilers #life series #grumbo #trafficshipping #this is shippier than my usual ambiguous style but idc how you interpret it #my writing #my stuff

80 notes · View notes

gotskamstuff · 2 days ago

Text

I am actually heartbroken right now, there’s no other way I have to describe it if not heartbreak and the thing is that I don’t even mean it because of the emotions evoked by the story, it’s actual pain by seeing my favorite show being ruined.

‘Cause I’m sorry but the show is forever ruined for me and I won’t be able to look at it with the same eyes ever again. I’ve said it once before when we were discussing rumors and I’ll say it once again now that we have seen it become a reality…this to me goes behind JJ being a fan favorite and even behind the ship, this is genuinely something that made me lose trust in the storytelling and in the core that’s this show.

This makes no sense, ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE.

Once again I’ll repeat it, I’m no snowflakes when it comes to characters death in shows (hello? Game of thrones fan here? I suffered like a dog) but damn, there’s gotta be a sense for a character dying and there’s absolutely none here, this is also not the type of show when it would be needed.

I’ve always said it and a character like JJ could’ve ended only in ONE WAY to give justice to him and to his story: LIVING HIS FUTURE.

When I say this ruins how I view the show and my trust in the storytelling I mean it with my whole chest, this has ruined JJ’s story from season 1 episode 1 “The Pilot” to this day, JJ’s ENTIRE story doesn’t mean anything anymore…what was the reason for all this? JJ’s story has always revolved around him never believing to have a righteous future in store for him, never believing he could have something good for himself and you get the idea, his whole story arc was about him never seeing anything for him…and he doesn’t? HE ACTUALLY DOESN’T HAVE A FUTURE? What was the point? What was the poiny of seeing JJ struggling from day 1? What was the point of exploring his insecurities? What was the point of seeing him falling in love? This is what I find the most heartbreaking, if I put season 1 episode 1 on right now and I see JJ on my screen, the first thing that comes to mind is: What was the point of any of this? If he never overcame his struggles and still didn’t get closure with Luke? If he died still believing only a episode earlier that he still didn’t have a future for him? If he still struggled to accept the love and never overcame his insecurities? If he never got that future he dreamed about? (which yeah ok he got for like what? 5 minutes of screentime) …what was the point in JJ’s entire story if he never got to prove himself wrong?

The only right way a character like JJ could’ve seen his story end with dignity would’ve literally been living that future he was sure he’d never have: have a house, a job, a family, HAVE KIDS, grow old not being a drunk in prison. And they killed him TWICE in my opinion, physically and also morally by making him die not being himself and still with all that anger and fear inside him and without his story ever finding closure.

None of this does justice to JJ’s story and his arc.

This is honestly what I can’t wrapped my head around, the reason why JJ was a fan favorite was not casual…it was because of his story, when we say “we watch for JJ” is because he’s one of those characters in a show that you’re rooting for, that you wanna see defeat the odds and get the ending his heart deserves…and I’m sorry to the writers because unintentionally they made him the protagonist just as much as John B if not even more at times. When we say there’s no excitement to watch the show now this is the reason: what’s there to root for if we were rooting for their better future and this was the whole story SINCE SEASON ONE?

I had big hopes for this season and I actually enjoyed part 1 but wow was I let down, this ending just killed the entire show for me…there’s no sense in this.

I know I’m repeating myself now but I can’t stress this enough, it destroyed the show ‘cause it ruined the entire purpose of the story. Looking back now nothing about JJ’s story was worth the pain and suffering he went through and looking forward what’s there to say anymore? They’re gonna go hunt for this crown and get rich? Ok, wasn’t the whole moral of the story about the real treasure being their found family?

I loved this show since April 2020 and I would’ve gladly watched it for YEARS AND YEARS ON, but wow I would’ve rather seen it end in the trilogy or with this season with a different ending, leaving a good memory.

I’m not gonna lie…I knew this was gonna happen, I tried to not trust the rumors and I tried to think rationally but when Rudy and the producer unfollowed each other, when Rudy didn’t share anything about S5, when in part the whole story was building around the Pouges being mad at JJ and not saying “I love you back” I kinda figured AND STILL I was hoping to be wrong and I was hoping to be pleasantly surprised ‘cause I knew how bitter it would’ve left me.

And I mean it, I’m heartbroken AND MAD. The story totally ruined.

And can I get this straight, everyone is already jumping on Rudy’s ass ‘cause yeah let’s be real, he probably was done with the show and and all that jazz and it’s not cool at all, but IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME…actors ask to leave shows all the time and in the end it’s still the writers call to decide how to make it happen, there are tons of different ways to write a character off ESPECIALLY A CHARACTER LIKE JJ, who always had that element of spontaneous take outs and with the blank paga that they had with the “surf trip”. There’s only ONE season left, I don’t think that Rudy would’ve refused if asked “hey of we can work around this, how about 5 minutes of screen time in the final episode?”…an open ending for his character that left the audience wonder “what’s JJ doing around the world?” “Where did he go?” would’ve been much more dignified for his story. In the end if they put a definitive ending to him and it was THEIR decision.

I’m actually devastated and I know it sounds exaggerated but this to me has also ruined the entire Jiara community as well…like what do we have left?

There was still so much they had left to their own story, KIARA’S STORY!! What was the point for her to fight so hard for him? to lose everything for him and get what in the end? TO HAVE HER WHOLE STORY REVOLVE AROUND HIM (‘cause that’s exactly what they did this season)? What a waste.

And it makes me incredibly sad ‘cause it has ruined all my excitement towards this part of the fandom that we built a community around…waht do we do with Jiara now? There was still so much I wanted to write for them in fictions and wanted to read from others but this has for the moment completely ruined my motivation to write for them and to even read their ff, knowing their story in canon ended and ended tragically, there’s nothing for their future. This is what I find so sad, there was left NOTHING to the imagination, nothing to let us wonder about their future.

This story ended today and I’ll never be able to look at it the same IF I’LL look at it. What’s the point of a story moving forward if the thing people were rooting for is gone? What are we rooting for if the Pogues are dead and the family is done? ‘Cause yeah, JJ was the core of the Pogues.

I find hard to believe that season 1 and 2 are the same show from season 3 and 4. The writing killed the show for good.

I hope WITH ALL MY HEART that I’ll be able to find back my excitement for my favorite show once again and that I’ll still be able to enjoy Jiara’s content again but I really find it impossible now.

I would’ve never thought that OBX, that show I watched in 2020 with genuine admiration for its story and way of portraying it could’ve been ruined like this. 💔

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #obx netflix #obx4 #obx s4 #jiara #kiara carrera #outer banks netflix #obx spoilers #outer banks spoilers

102 notes · View notes

reidtina · 3 days ago

Text

Vodka Girl

Pairing: jack schlossberg x fem!reader

Content warnings: +18 MDI public sex (im only noticing now that thats kind of my thing now lol), vaginal fingering, petnames (vodka girl, pretty girl, whiskey guy), orgasm, alcohol, casual sex (:()

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: Before Jack Schlossberg was the president of the USA and dated Y/N, he was a recent Harvard graduate and she was a Vogue photographer covering an event at the White House.

a/n: this is kind of a prequel to the president!jack fanfictions on my profile, but can also be read independently. repost and like it if you like it, also requests open for jack and spencer reid! and sorry i disappeared, i was kinda unmotivated and didnt have ideas. its on ao3 too

It had been only a few months since you became a photographer for Vogue and you still hadn’t gotten totally used to the fanciness and all the famous and important people you had to photograph, but tonight was especially important, you were covering an event in the White House, which meant having to be around a few of the most important men and women in the whole country. It’s been hours and nothing had gone wrong so far, so you decided to reward yourself with a little drink, who could blame you? You’ve been working for hours and hadn’t eaten or drunken anything so far. So you make your way to the bar and sit down, but before you could order anything a man sat next to you with a beer on his hand and as much as you tried to stay professional, you couldn’t help but notice he was really hot, he had dark hair, was tall, was wearing a suit, well, every men there was, but he looked better than all of them in it. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put a name to the face yet, but considering this was an event for high-classed people, it wasn’t surprising people here looked familiar.

You probably shouldn’t have stared so much at his hands, because he definitely noticed, as he said: “No ring”, which really confused you, and he could see it on your face because he felt the need to explain himself “I’m sorry, I thought you were checking my fingers for a wedding ring or something, my bad” He said and chuckled embarrassed, making you join him in the laughter.

“No, I was just impressed with how nice your hands are” the second the words came out of your mouth you wanted to die, why the fuck would anyone say that? Fuck. But somehow that didn’t freak him out or made him get up and leave, instead he laughed and said: “I’m Jack, by the way”

“Y/N.” You smiled politely

“Would you like to come with me, Y/N?” he said near to your ear “This party is so boring” he added. You didn’t know what to do, you were here for work, after all, but it’s been hours and you had taken more than enough photos already, maybe you could give yourself a half hour break. So you nod saying “Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Come on.” he softly laughed as he took you by the hand to the beautiful moonlit garden. He took a deep breath before stopping between a bench and a wall, looking around to check if anyone was looking. He then looked down at the bottle of beer and then at you, smiling before opening the bottle and taking a long sip, making a disgusted face as he pulled it away, “Ah, I hate this stuff.” He chuckled and passed you the bottle.

You take a sip from the bottle as well and agreed saying “Yeah, me too”

He laughed, grabbing the bottle from your hand, putting his lips where yours were just a few moments ago, before taking a sip again, wincing at the bad taste. “I'm more of a whiskey kind of man.” He said, looking at the bottle and then at you with the corner of his eye.

“I’m more of a vodka kind of woman.”

He chuckled again, taking another sip, “Vodka girl, uh?” he said, leaning against the wall and facing you, “Any particular reason why?”

“I like the way it goes down” you say with a smirk, trying to be sexy and funny to impress him. You weren’t usually like this, you tended to act natural around guys, but he’s just so hot you can’t risk being weird or boring.

He smirked too, crossing his arms on his chest and taking another sip before passing you the almost empty bottle. “No reason to be surprised you drink vodka, though, you have the look for it.” he teased, making an obvious look up and down on you.

You tilt your head to the side and raise your eyebrows before asking playfully, yet genuinely curious “What's that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled at your pose, taking the almost empty bottle from your hands before putting it on the bench next to you and taking a step closer. He looked at you up and down once again, a smirk on his lips.

“You look like you have a strong but soft personality, vodka is strong, and you make a soft impression. You also have a sharp gaze.” He said, looking deep into your eyes.

You chuckle, nervous with his sudden closeness “I'll take that”

He smiled, slowly stepping closer until you were pressed against the wall behind you, his hands on each side of you, against the wall, trapping you, but not making full contact with you yet. “So, vodka girl..." he said in a low tone. “What's the story? Here alone?”

“I’m a photographer for Vogue, I’m just covering the event. You?”

He chuckled, slowly resting the tip of his fingers on your hips, moving them slightly to the side, but still keeping a small distance between your bodies.

He looked into your eyes with a smirk on his lips, “I'm just here by myself, politics is a family business, you know?” When he said that, something clicked inside your brain and you realized who he was, he was Jack Schlossberg, JFK’s grandson. “I just graduated college, so now I’m being more active in these kind of events with my family.” His attractiveness was already making you nervous, but now there was his name to make things harder. A Kennedy? Is your dress pretty enough to be around someone like that? How do you even breath? You have to act cool, so you smile. He smiles back “So I see we are the same.” he said while softly caressing your sides up and down, “Both alone at this boring event, no one is wearing a ring, which means we are both single, right?”

You chuckle, you were so nervous, but he’s so nice, so it’s suddenly easier to breath and so you say “I think so, I am at least”

He smiled once again, tilting his head to the side, “I'm single too.” he said, his voice lower and his eyes never leaving yours. He slowly and softly moved his fingers to your hips, “So both single at a boring event, we came here alone and now we are alone in the garden...”

You smile and say “It looks like it, what do you think about it?”

“I think...” he whispered, his fingers digging into your sides on your hips, “I think a pretty girl like you shouldn't be spending the night alone.”

“Oh, yeah? And how are we going to fix this?” you ask, finally thinking you’re being cool enough. He chuckled and finally moved his body fully in contact with yours, pinning you against the wall by your hips, “I have an idea.” he said in a low tone by your ear, his hands slowly sliding up your sides. “Hm, tell me.” you said, knowing you should stop it, but unable to actually do it.

He smirked, his hands now fully touching your body and his lips close to your ear, “I think we should spend the end of the night together...” he whispered, slowly letting his teeth graze the skin on your neck. You smirk “Sounds good to me” no, it doesn’t, what the fuck are you doing, Y/N? You’re working here, for fuck’s sake, why did you say that it’s good?

He smiled and slowly left a trail of kisses on your neck, his body pressing against you even more. “I'm glad you agree, vodka girl.” This nickname made you feel things that you probably shouldn’t be feeling right here, right now, but it’s impossible to contain it when a man this hot is around you. He slowly began moving his lips up to your jawline, “So we have a plan for the night, hm?”

“Yeah, we do, whiskey guy” you hope the nickname does the same to him as it did to you. He chuckled against your skin, “I love that nickname.” he said before putting his hand under your chin and tilting your head slightly to the side, allowing access to more of your neck. He began leaving a few more kisses on the side of your neck, his hand leaving your chin and slowly moving down your body, his fingers tracing your shape.

He began moving back to your ear, his hot breath against your skin as he whispered, “I have one rule, vodka girl.” His fingers played with the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up and exposing more skin, touching it ever so softly. This was so, so wrong but so hard to resist, so you can’t help the words “And what is it?” from coming out of your mouth. He slowly lifted your leg up with his free hand, his fingers digging into your skin while lifting it and pinning it against the wall between his body and yours. So, so wrong. He looked into your eyes as he leaned closer, his face millimeters from yours, almost touching your lip, “You have to be silent.”

Okay, it’s beyond wrong, but it’s so hot. “What? You’re going to do me here?” You ask, still a little nervous and surprised. He smirked, taking your earlobe between his teeth and slowly started moving his hand further up on your leg, his touch leaving you craving more. “Can you be quiet?” he whispered, his lips just above your neck. Fuck it, you only live once or whatever.

“That depends on how good you are” you finally gave in to your desires. He chuckled, moving his hand even further up your leg, the thin fabric of your dress the only thing stopping him from touching you. “Oh, pretty girl, you don't know the limits to my good time.” he said as he started slowly leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your jaw. “Then I can't promise i can be quiet, I might have to bite you to keep my mouth shut” you smirked. He bit his lip, moving his hand to your hip and pressing his body against yours, the pressure almost making you gasp but you somehow managed to stay silent. “Bite whatever you want, vodka girl, but keep quiet, we're out in the open after all. We wouldn't want to get caught.” He leaned his face closer to you, his nose almost touching yours, “Unless...” he paused, his voice low and seductive, “Unless you don't mind being heard, hm?”

That question brought out a seductive chuckle from you and you asked him: “Does the idea of me being loud out here in public risking getting caught turn you on?” He groaned lowly as he heard the question, his eyes closing from the sound of your chuckle, “You have no idea...” he said, his voice shaky now. His body was fully pressed against yours, and you can feel exactly how it affected him, especially on the spot under his belt.

You fake innocence while playing with his tie. He swallowed hard, feeling you slowly toying with his tie as he tried to form words in his mind, the heat of your touch making it hard to think. He needed no further invitation, the look on your eyes was enough to know you wanted him as much as he wanted you, so he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to a more secluded part of the garden, far away from any guests or cameras, making sure no one could see you.

“You asked for it, vodka girl.” He said as he gently sat you down on a soft patch of grass next to a wall, his body covering yours as he pinned you against the ground, his body pressed between your legs, and his lips just above your neck. He began attacking your neck with kisses, his tongue and teeth now on your skin. He whispered, his breath hot against your ear, “Now be quiet.”

You chuckle as you say “Whatever you say, boss”. He smirked as the sound of your words hit his ear, moving his lips to your ear, “That's a good girl.” He whispered into it. He started leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and across your collarbone while slowly moving his hands to the hem of your dress, slipping his hands underneath the thin fabric.

His touch was light and teasing, slowly moving up higher on your legs, “I want to hear those pretty little moans of yours, pretty girl.” he whispered against your neck, his fingers digging into the skin on your leg.

“Then touch me and make me cry out for you” you said, getting bolder and bolder as desire began taking over you, unable to contain yourself, even knowing the dangers of keeping it going, this was John Fucking Kennedy's grandson after all, your grandma probably had the hots for his grandpa and now he was here, about to fuck you.

“With pleasure.” he said as he began moving his hands higher, his fingers feeling your skin as they inched upward, slowly but getting closer to where you craved him. Thankfully you were wearing good underwear. He began sucking on your neck, leaving hickeys where your hair would cover later, thankfully, but still making sure he left his mark as he finally reached the edge of your underwear, “I want to hear you, vodka girl. I want to hear all the pretty noises you make when I touch you. But only I can hear it, got it?” You nod and beg: “Please.” He chuckled, his breath hot against your ear, "Please what, pretty girl?" he teased, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

“Please, just touch me” you ask impatiently.

He smiled against your neck, enjoying the way you're melting under his touch. ”Say, please again and I'll give you exactly what you want.” he whispered, his fingers still tracing up and down the edge of your underwear. “Please, I need your fingers deep inside me” you begged, too horny to feel embarrassed. He smirked, his lips hovering over your ear, “That's a good girl.” He didn't make you wait any longer, his hands finally moving where you wanted him, a soft moan escaping your lips almost immediately as his fingers found your entrance and started moving in and out of you. He groaned as you let out a sound, his body still pressing against yours as much as it could “Careful, pretty girl. You don't want to be too loud.” He began slowly and gently caressing your clit with his thumb while still moving his fingers in and out of you, his touch soft but firm, making sure to build up the tension. His lips left your ear and you pull him in for a kiss to try and stay quiet.

He was caught off guard by your sudden pull but quickly melted into the kiss, his tongue slipping through your lips, tasting you, and exploring the inside of your mouth while his hand continued exploring your pussy. You moan softly through the kiss and he lets out a low growl, the sound of your moan only driving him further. He continued to kiss you, his tongue tangled with yours, while his free hand slowly moved up your body, touching and exploring every inch of you. He muttered between kisses, his voice low and ragged, “You taste so good, vodka girl. You made my night"

“Can you please fuck me?” You ask without thinking of the consequences, right now nothing else mattered, only having his dick deep inside you. He groaned at your question, his body reacting to your words and the sound of your panting. “What a polite woman asking ‘please’.” he said, his voice low and seductive, the sound of it sending a shiver through you. He whispered in your ear, “Do you wanna feel me, vodka girl?” to which you couldn't say anything other than “Yes, please.” He smirked, slowly moving his fingers away from your body, leaving you craving his touch.

He let out a deep-throated chuckle, his breath warm against your ear, “You're such a good girl, so I'm going to give you exactly what you want.” his words made your body build up with anticipation.

He began gently biting and sucking on your neck, but making sure not to leave marks where your hair wouldn't cover later, while his hands began to move down, slowly pushing up the fabric of your dress. “Do you have a condom?” you ask and he chuckled, slowly pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. “I do." he said, his voice low and seductive, "I always come prepared.”

You roll your eyes playfully “To this kind of event? What a man whore.” as much as you were joking, you couldn't help but feel a bit of jealousy, you must be sick. He laughed, pinning you to the ground again, his body entirely covering yours, “I can't resist when I'm around a beautiful woman like you, vodka girl. You make me weak”

You pushed any jealousy away and asked “Then please fuck me already”

He moved closer to your ear, whispering, “When you ask like that, how can I say no, vodka girl?” and you take it as your sign to start unbuckling his belt, he lets out a sharp gasp at the feeling of your hands on his pants. “Eager, are we?” he said in a low tone, his breathing getting heavier with the way you were touching him. You roll your eyes and tease “Oh, shut up, we have to be quick, you know that” He chuckled “You're quite feisty, vodka girl. I like that.” He leaned in closer, his face hovering millimeters from yours, “But not that quick, though. I'm going to make sure you remember my name when we're done.” he said it as if you could forget him, but his words send shivers up your spine either way and you reply in a whisper “Just quick enough to make sure we don't get caught.”

”Don't worry, pretty girl. I'm used to multitasking. I'll make sure you're completely satisfied, and we won't be caught.” as he finishes that sentence he pulls out a condom from his pocket and pulls his pants just down enough to take his cock out, and fuck, what a dick, it was big and thick, and you knew it'd hit just the right spots. He smirked, his eyes fixed on you as he quickly rolls the condom onto himself, when he's ready he positions himself between your legs, his body pressing yours down, his eyes holding an intense look of hunger and desire, “Are you ready, vodka girl?”

You nod, not finding the words, but that was all the invitation he needed, as he slowly pushed your panties to the side and began pushing it inside you, when he felt how thigh your pussy was, he groaned, the sound deep and full of the need he had for you. Once he had already entered all his length in you, he started moving himself against you, his eyes locked on yours, “Say my name. I want to hear you.” You moan softly at his request “Jack, please”

His body shuddered from the sound of his name on your lips. ”That's a good girl” he said in a low voice. “Say it again.”

“Jack, we have to be quiet” you moan between thrusts.

He started moving a little faster, his body pressed against yours as he whispered, “You're just too sexy, I can't resist you.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him even closer, “You're unbelievable, vodka girl.”

He continued to move inside of you, his body pressing against yours, both your breathes heavy and ragged. “You feel so good. I can't get…” He couldn't find the words to speak as the pleasure continued to build up between you. He was close, and he knew you were close to the edge too. He groaned, his body shuddering, “You're so perfect. I can't hold back anymore. Say my name once again”

“Jack” you moan softly into his ear and the sound of your voice mixed with your hot breath into his ear make his body shudder with release, and he whispers your name back in your ear over and over as the waves of pleasure wash over him.

He collapses on top of you, panting and trying to catch his breath, “You're incredible, Y/N. I wasn't expecting anything like this tonight.” You try to catch your breath as you pull the hem of your dress down again and pull your panties back to their place. He gently rolls onto his back beside you, still catching his breath, and turns to look at you as he removes the condom and pulls his pants up. He smiles, his eyes still holding a hint of desire and satisfaction. “You're quite the troublemaker, vodka girl.” he teased, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face with his free hand.

“I could same the same about you, whiskey guy.”

He chuckled, rolling onto his side to face you. “Me, a troublemaker? I'm innocent.” he says, giving you an mock innocent look before grinning and reaching out to trace a finger along your cheek, “You're the one who got me all worked up, pretty girl.”

As a little bit of reasoning thinking washes over you, you say: “Maybe we should get back to the party now, we can't risk someone seeing us lying down on the garden.” He sighs, reluctantly agreeing “You're right. We can't risk getting caught.”

He sits up, buckling his belt and straightening his hair, before making a knot on the used condom and putting it into his pocket. “Well, this is kinda gross” he laughs and offers you the other hand. “But let's head back in and try to look innocent.” You take his hand while laughing and get up.

He leads you back to the inside, his hand still holding yours. As you enter the room again, you both try to act nonchalant, like nothing happened, but nobody seems to have noticed your absence either way. He whispers to you, trying not to attract attention, “We gotta act natural, vodka girl. Don't want to raise suspicion.” The fact that he’s worrying now when he’s then one that initiated the whole thing makes you chuckle and you say “I think we’re in the clear now”

He chuckles too, the tension of getting caught slowly fading away. “You’re right, looks like we’re in the clear” he agreed after looking around the room. “So, I think I should try to get back to the boring conversations, but before I go, can I get your number?” he asked and after you gave it to him and got back to work, he spent the rest of the night thinking about you, looking around the room, hoping to get a glance of you.

#ao3 writer #jack schlossberg #my fics #fem!reader #smut #kennedy family #female writers #y/n

77 notes · View notes

icarusredwings · 22 hours ago

Text

Getting deep into the x men fandom means seeing ships I don't agree with, so I don't interact, seeing posts that mischaraterizes one of the deepest charaters possible, so I don't interact, Seeing people actively say things that are blatantly wrong, so I don't interact.

Getting a large following is also kind of frustrating (Im not complaining I love you guys!) But I've had to block 2 people already today because they keep leaving rude replies to my comments on OTHER peoples posts or purposly come to my blog to tell me that how I view a charater is wrong. Had someone tell me that the stuff that happens in MY au is dumb because "that would never happen" like yeah bud. The writers at Marvel are too much of cowards for it to happen, hence why i'm here.

So my thing is... if im chosing not to interact with all of this- why is it still on my feed?

I feel like the more I ignore it the more I see and I do not wish to be the type to block someone simply because they make one post about a ship that personally isn't my cup of tea.

Also- I think Im starting to see the different sides of extremes, especially when it comes to one specifc charater.

Logan.

I have seen dozens of lovely stories, lovely rants, lovely head canons about this man-

But something that feels weird (to me at least) is people who are 45+ yelling at people who aren't even 18 that their story/headcanons are trash because they've "been enjoying Logan for 40+ years" as if this gives them any right to tell a 17 year old that they shouldnt write a charater how they see them.

It's also weird to me that there seems to be two sides.

Logan IS an animal and that's perfectly okay.

Logan ISN'T an animal, and everyone who headcanons him as animalistic is fetishizing his mutation and are insulting him.

I get not liking a certain trope, but sir, that person is young enough to be your child. You have to accept that we all grew up with different versions of each charater. I Personally didn't grow up with any and get the luxury of indulging in all sorts of media all at once- therefore getting to see him from multiple sides and pictures.

I completely understand if you grew up with the original series and are upset to see that kids are headcanoning your stone cold angst biker man as wearing bow clips and 'making biscuits' on a pillow while watching gilmore girl with his boyfriend, and wearing pink fluffy hello kitty pants and a tight shirt that says "Milk"

I completely understand if you grew up with the movies and see him as a sexy gruff hot buff man and you love to write lots and lots of steamy x reader about him.

I completely understand if you LIKE logan wearing hello kitty pants and don't agree with the idea of him being a dark edgelord, lone wolf charater.

Do you know what I don't understand? Fighting over a charater when different timelines have been canon since the 80s. The Time Variance Authority (TVA) first appeared in Thor #372 (October 1986) which means ALL of your logans are the correct logan. Just not all the same.

Do I think Wolverine Orgins Logan would wear pink hello kitty pants? Nah.

Do I know that Deadpool and wolverine Logan is a whole different universe then Orgins Logan? Yes.

That's why people tag different logans and different aus. So what is all the fuss about?? What happened to the more the merrier?

Theres so many different versions of comic book logan, too, so don't even go there.

Feel free to ask my personal opinions but as far as I stand I could never be foolish enough to seriously go into someone elses post and genuinely be upset at them for how they perceive a charater. I get second hand embaressment when ever I see ANYONE doing it.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I don't care if I lose followers for this. Let the door hit you on the way out. There aint no reason to be harrassing folks.

106 notes · View notes

ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 1 day ago

Note

enamored with the bill possessing Ford's body au. If you would feel up to it, do you have more tidbits? :3

I’m happy to see so many people enjoying it!! I have a lot of additional tidbits so I’ll just stick to giving a few for now:

— Dipper finds out Ford is the author a lot earlier, for the obvious reasons of Bill being present in Ford’s body. He doesn’t put the pieces together right away, only because initially, he hates Bill, disappointed that the ‘scientist’ his parents spoke about that he wanted to impress turned out to be nothing like what he had hoped, ignoring and dismissing him instead, even taking a liking to Mabel before him! He has this idealised version of the author in his head, someone who he relates to and finds comfort in, and he doesn’t want to taint that vision by suspecting it may be someone who he hates. He may be a mystery lover but he is still a twelve year old with a grudge.

It’s only after he and Bill start getting along that he brings it up, and Bill doesn’t think to lie. He’s just that surprised Dipper found it. He does lie about not remembering things though to avoid Dipper’s questions about the paranoia and why he hid it — as on the spot kind of thing, and that becomes Dipper’s mystery fixation of the summer.

— Stan and Bill have various nicknames for each other, with Bill’s main one for Stan being ‘Fez’, and Stan’s main one for Bill being ‘Goldie’.

— Speaking of them, when it comes to their relationship, they are genuinely friends after thirty years of living together, but what that friendship entails is where it gets complicated and I don’t think I can summarise here. I’d say it can best be described as two people who have come to understand each other very deeply, and are similar in a thousand ways, but they would rather throw themselves off a cliff than acknowledge or talk about that. There’s also the lingering anger and resentment on Stan’s end, not for taking Ford’s body, he knows Bill doesn’t want to be stuck here either, but for what he did to Ford before that, how he hurt him. He, much to his confusion, does care about Bill, and Bill, much to his own confusion as well, does care about Stan back, but their friendship is built on something awful, and that doesn’t just go away.

— On a sillier note, it was in 1990 that Stan realised Bill was his only friend and that he sort of enjoyed his company, and that truly was a horrifying moment. On the other end Bill finally admits to some degree he might care for Stan in 1994, which happens while both of them are drunk, and Bill likes to claim it didn’t happen. The image below also probably summarises the lighter aspect of their dynamic better than I could word it here:

— Bill has taxidermy as a hobby and actually gives Dipper and Mabel a few lessons in it, creating some displays for the shack. Weirdly good bonding activity.

— Very specific ‘episode’ idea in my mind where Stan and Bill get framed by Faires that Bill angered a thousand years ago for a crime they didn’t commit, and Dipper and Mabel have to figure out how to prove their innocence, finding more about their Grunkles along the way, and also having to beat a fairy in a game of poker.

— Mabel at some point comes to the conclusion her “Grunkle Ford” had a bad breakup that he still hasn’t gotten over and makes it her goal to help him through it. This is part of her summer mission. It comes up frequently. It’s ridiculous I know but what is Gravity Falls without a generous amount of both angst and utter silliness.

I’ll probably leave it at that for now! But if you’d want more or have any specific questions, I shall do my best. I’m still figuring out some stuff too so input will be helpful.

#asks #gravity falls #gravity falls au #not who he seems au #bill cipher #stan pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines

95 notes · View notes

ericshoney · 2 days ago

Text

Fake Friends ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You've been refusing to go to school since you and your best friend fell out. You hadn't told your parents what the reason was, so they call in back up. Nick, Matt and Chris.

Warnings: Possible swearing, nicknames, crying, random names for friends, slight angst, fluff.

Reader's age: 16

You hadn't gone to school in a week. Every time your parents came to see if you were ready, you were laid in bed still in your pjs, refusing to go.

You hadn't told your parents why you didn't want to go to school. Just that you didn't want too. The reason.

You and your best friend Rachel had fallen out.

You also noticed that after you and Rachel fell out, all your other friends turned their back on you. Admitting they were only friends with you due to your brothers careers.

So here you were, laid in your bed. MaryLou had tried to get you to go to school but you flat out refused. Your mother had called in back up though.

Nick, Matt and Chris had just landed back in Boston, your dad had gone to collect them, filling the trio in the car with what was going on.

"So, you've got no idea what happened? She's just refusing?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. We tried to ask her what was wrong, but she just said she didn't want to." Your dad replied.

"We'll see what we can do." Matt said.

Once they arrived home, Nick, Matt and Chris greeted your mum before coming to your room.

"Hey kid, can we come in?" Matt asked, as he knocked on your door.

"Sure." You mumbled.

The trio walked into your room and saw you sat up on your bed, your phone laid on your lap. The three smiled as they came and sat on your bed too.

"Hey, what's going on?" Nick asked,

"I just don't want to go to school anymore." You answered.

"We understand that, kid, but why?" Chris asked, emphasising the word.

"You can tell us, sweetheart." Nick mentioned, noticing your hesitation.

"Me and Rachel fell out. All my other friends then admitted they were using me to get to you guys." You confessed.

"I...I just don't get it, like, what have I done to them! They all turned their backs on me! All cause you guys do YouTube, but they lied! They told me they were friends with me because they wanted too, but they all just lied." You continued, feeling the tears fall down your face.

Matt pulled you into a hug as you cried in his arms. He shared a look with Chris and Nick, who both frowned.

"Hey, so listen. We understand how hard it is to lose friends. Especially a close one, so we fully know what you're feeling. But do you think you could try something for us?" Matt suggested.

"What is it?" You asked.

"So we're home for a few weeks, okay. Do you think you could try and go to school tomorrow for us. If things aren't good then we'll work something out, okay petal?" Matt offered.

"Okay." You agreed.

"Just remember, kid, you're better than those people. You weren't being fake, they were." Nick said.

"The right friends will make their way to you one day. Believe us, school isn't the only time to make friends. And you've always got us, Justin and Nate." Chris said, making you laugh lightly.

"Thanks guys." You said, feeling better about the situation.

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann @mrvlxgrl @lottieluhvs @cl1tlover3000 @melaniesturniolo @lovesturni0l0s @blahbel668 @emely9274 @nicksloverrr @pancjfrjb @luvr4miya @artloo123 @n0aa @sturn-rose @ivysturnss @thetriplets3 @starfuckoff @itsjulzandmydiamonds

Dividers by @issysh3ll

81 notes · View notes

rey-jake-therapist · 15 hours ago

Text

What's the deal with Sauron and children ?

There seems to be something we don't know, about Sauron and children. Among Haladriels we often joke/hc that Sauron wants to have children with Galadriel and that's why it's a recurring theme. But in all seriousness, we may ask : what are the writers not telling us ?

It started in Numenor, where we saw Sauron smile giddily at the sight of little girls running.

I'm sure many still think : "he was putting on a show for Galadriel". Ok but Galadriel herself didn't smile when she watched them, she just looked at them with indifference. And it's not necessarily a human thing to smile at the sight of children, many humans don't care for them.

Then there's a scene where Sauron as Halbrand confronted Adar, who asked him if he had hurt someone he loved, adding, "A woman ? Perhaps, a child ?".

Galadriel may have noticed that Halbrand seemed particularly tense when he asked if it was a child, because she told Adar, "eat your tongue".

Tbf, it's likely that this scene was just a red herring. The audience still had to believe that Halbrand was a man, and that he had a good reason to want Adar dead. Adar firmly believed he had killed Sauron at this point, so there could be only one reason for Halbrand to be so angry at him, aka he took someone he loved away from him. What I mean is that Adar asking him this question made very much sense, at the moment.

But the reference to children came back in season 2, when Sauron had a vision of little girls running in the vision he had first created for Celebrimbor. It could also, again, mean nothing, because this vision was for Celebrimbor, a make believe to hide him the fact that Eregion was under attack. But someone, I don't know who, noticed something interesting when they put the gif of the Numenor girls on top of the gif of the mind palace girls.

Do you see it ? How the kids in the second seem to continue the Numenor kids' running ?

It may mean absolutely *nothing*. And yet I find interesting that the writers chose to associate Sauron with kids not just once, or even twice, but three times.

Could it mean that at some point, when he was in Numenor, Sauron seriously considered the idea of settling down there, of founding a family and liviving as a human being ? He was in a repentance phase and had, in his own words, "given up" any idea of fixing the damages he had done after Adar betrayed him and turned him into powerless goo, so I don't think it's too far-fetched to imagine that he could have genuinely wanted to settle down, to blend with the crowd.

Or could it be, as @apoloadonisandnarcissus suggested to me, that Sauron associates children with the concept of innocence, an innocence he himself lost when Morgoth corrupted him ?

Saurbrand told Galadriel, about Numenor, that it was "a paradise rife with opportunities". The vision of Eregion he showed Celebrimbor had everything of a paradise. Even after Celebrimbor got back to work and was no longer here to see the vision, Sauron remained for a few minutes in his illusion, contemplating it.

It didn't escape Haladriel shippers' attention that the girl was a sort of Galadriel lookalike, and that his lover, whose face remained unseen, may have expressed Sauron's own doubts regarding his capacity to perfect/heal Middle-Earth without Galadriel and her light.

That said, neither the idea of having a family, nor the association of children with innocence, can be related to what Adar did to him. Adar definitely didn't kill a child of his (and it would be dangerously lore-breaking to claim that Sauron ever had a kid, because Maiars are supposed to be forever bound to their physical form once they conceived), and he isn't the one who stole his innocence either. Adar is the one whose innocence was stolen by both Morgoth and Sauron, actually.

So now it's your turn : do you have any idea about this ? If yes, please share :)

#sauron #halbrand #mairon #adar #haladriel #saurondriel #the rings of power #trop meta #trop

95 notes · View notes

judesmoonbeauty · 2 days ago

Text

Ikémen Series Expo 2024 - A “Villains” Original Short Story

This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. This is exclusive content for IFC members that gained it via point accumulation during the event. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not share my translations. Thank you! ☾

This story features: Ellis, Liam, Harrison & Ring. The stories are dialogue only (Cybird's doing not mine.)

Ellis: Oh, it’s my acrylic stand.

Liam: It is, and this is my card.

Ring: There’s also buttons.

Liam: I don’t know which one I want.

Ellis: For now, why not collect and organize your own merch?

Liam: Good idea, then….what should I get?

Ring: Isn’t this armor cool.

Ellis: It’s Mr. Nobunaga’s acrylic stand, his armor isn’t something found in the West.

Ring: Ah, it doesn’t exist in the UK or Germany. Are there other types of armor that exist.

Liam: It’s nice they each have their own colored armor, I wonder what our colors would be.

Ellis: I think you’d be pink Liam. Ring is…

Harrison: What are you excited about?

Liam: Ah, Harry!

Harrison: Your hands aren’t moving. Aren’t going to work hard so the robins can enjoy it.

Liam: Sorry, I got really excited.

Ellis: Harry, you’re all done?

Harrison: I organized the goods so they’re easy to grab.

Harrison: You guys only put your own merch up…..

Ellis: I want people to see and get my goods first…..

Liam: I put my merch upfront because I want them to see how well made it is…

Ring: ….I….for some reason

Harrison: Haaa. Come on, put it back. This won’t be done no matter how long it takes.

Liam: Okaaay.

Ellis: Yeah.

Ring: Sure.

Liam: Hey, doesn’t this Harry merch look good?

Ellis: These Jude goods are so cute.

Ring: Nica’s merch is nice too.

Harrison: Hey.

Liam: Will’s card looks so stylish.

Ellis: Roger’s acrylic stand looks just like him.

Ring: Dari’s too….

Harrison: ….Oi.

Liam: Oh, Lord Elbie is beautiful! His beauty doubles when merch is made of him.

Ellis: Victor’s hair looks so smooth seeing it like this.

Ring: Alfons’ personality comes out in his goods too…..

Harrison: …..Set up!

Liam: Oh, sorry!

Ellis: Sorry.

Ring: I-I’m sorry.

Harrison: The space you guys touched is nothing but a mess.

Harrison: Who said they’d work hard to get set up.

Liam: Me…..

Ellis: Me…..

Ring: I did…

Harrison: ….Liam line up the larger goods. Ellis, clean the shelves, and Ring handle the smaller items.

Liam: On it! Ring, let’s do our best.

Ring: Oh, by the way, where should I put this?

Liam: Is that this one.

Ellis: I’ll dust the upper shelves.

Harrison: It’s finally getting it done…..

Harrison: Why am I in charge?

Ellis: Harry?

Harrison: Hm, something happen?

Ellis: I hope the robins will be happy.

Harrison: ….Oh, that’s right.

Ellis: I hope they’ll be the happiest when they see our merchandise stand.

Harrison: I’m not sure about the happiest, but they’ll be happy.

Ellis: Heh, I’m looking forward to it now.

Harrison: ….I see.

Liam: Harry, come here!

Harrison: Yeah, what is it now?

Liam: Do they look better placed this way, or that way?

Harrison: Either way is fine….

Liam: No it’s not, I have to arrange them in a way that’s easy for the robin to look at them.

Harrison: In that case, I think it’d be better to put the larger items on an upper shelf.

Harrison: Since they’re shorter than us, it might be harder for them to reach the items on top shelf.

Liam: That’s true, thanks Harry.

Harrison: No problem, you okay?

Harrison: Your fingers are shaking as you line up the merch?

Ring: I’ve never done a task like this before.

Harrison: You don’t have to fine tune it so much.

Ring: But, I want them to think that the display looks pretty when they see it.

Harrison: ….Want me to help too.

Ring: No, I’ll do each of these here…..ah.

Liam: Huh!

Ellis: Wah!

Harrison: ….Bad move.

Liam: All the goods you lined up fell like a trail of dominoes.

Ellis: The dust pile fell down, due to the impact,

Ring: There’s a lot of dust the fell on top of the merch…..

Harrison: Worst’s come to worst……

Ring: I-I’m sorry! It’s my fault, I’ll clean it up quickly!

Liam: Wait! You’re going to bump into something,

Ring: [Gasp!]

Ellis: Ring’s arm bumped into a lower shelf, and now it’s all messed up.

Ring: S-sorry!

Liam: It’s okay, let’s start again, we’ve got dust in our heads.

Ring: Ah…..

Liam: Haha, we’re all matching.

Ring: ….Haha, it’s true.

Ellis: It’s kind of funny.

Liam: Harry’s the dustiest…..Harry?

Ellis: Harry？

Ring: What’s wrong？

Harrison: ……I, am NOT your guys’ babysitter!

Fin.

Quick, someone get Harry a double shot of extra extra super sweet strawberry milk, a cupcake, and a Sherlock Holmes novel STAT! ....Poor Ring lmao.

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko @raeraeks

If you wish to be added to my translations tag list, please comment or DM me.

#ikevil translations #ikemen translations #cybird translations #ellis twilight #harrison gray #liam evans #ring schwartz #ellis twilight translations #harrison gray translations #nica schwartz translations #liam evans translations

69 notes · View notes

ruensroad · 2 days ago

Text

I've been musing a lot on an SVSSS x Inuyasha AU. The obvious angle following the plot formula would lead us to BingQiu (SY), which is very sweet and cute. Half demon meets man from the future, it all fits very very nicely. It even fits with Binghe's past with Shen Jiu, who we all know wouldn't hesitate to pin that beast onto a tree with an arrow at any opportunity, let alone for some priceless artifact.

I'm sure I'm not the first person to see this connection. It really does slot together so so well ;3; However, my JiuYuan lovin' heart wants to be contrary because, really, could you just imagine?

Everything about the plot is pointed to one relationship conclusion. The half demon protagonist meets a person from the future who reminds him of the one who betrayed him, and slowly he heals and finds love. So imagine that, what if, instead of following the plot as he is supposed to, Shen Yuan instead falls head over heels for the nebulous, antagonistic and very unhappily resurrected Shen Jiu?

I don't like sacrificing characters in order to claim a pairing, and indeed I know Binghe could have his pick of other characters to woo. I just love the idea of being contrarian to where a plot would usually go, flipping it on its head, and getting a whole different kind of story out of it.

Shen Yuan, who knows this story, who understands the role each character is meant to play. He is there to support the Protagonist, to be the Love Interest, to be a sidekick and friend. Shen Jiu, once brought back to serve as a recurring spectre to hinder the Hero's path, is meant to deal damage and Drama to Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan shouldn't even really be on his radar, except as a way to further hurt the beast he hates so much.

Love Triangle drama that Shen Yuan decides he'll destroy because if they just stopped being Idiots, a good third of the damn book could be avoided. This involves seeking out the vengeful Shen Jiu and dealing with him on a reasonable level.

Of course, in trying to avoid Drama, he instead gets a fixation. And why not? There's a lot to unpack with this antagonist, and the curiosity could go both ways. After all, Shen Yuan makes no secret that he is from a different world.

I just feel Shen Yuan would shine in such an AU. He gets to travel around and see all different kinds of cool creatures (!!), meet awesome demon hunters (LQG!!!), and other demons both good and bad. And Shen Jiu wouldn't just suffer in his role, forever lost to his hate and rage. Here's someone making a connection, making an effort for him, finding worth in surviving this hell he did not ask for.

Shen Jiu being that anti-hero that doesn't help the Protagonist, but will come and help that silly sidekick of his, arriving stylishly when there's trouble, when Binghe is distracted, and realizing he can be around Shen Yuan all while annoying the absolute shit out of the Hero. Let them be sassy and snarky and not always perfect allies, but still somewhat there despite their roles in the plot.

IDK, I just think it would be neat.

#ruenwrites #svsss #jiuyuan #Inuyasha au #I'm sure this has been done before but #IDK #just having a lot of feels tonight

70 notes · View notes

vitalverstappen · 11 hours ago

Text

Flash Forward - M. Verstappen (part two)

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

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

warnings: swearing, drinking, use of y/n, google translated Dutch, inaccurate descriptions of the Ferrari factory (literally couldn’t find ANY photos), mild slut shaming, brief mention of Jos Verstappen. Some of the race results are slightly inaccurate to fit the storyline. Sue me.

a/n: part 2 is finally here!!! Hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!

word count: 24.7k

masterlist

part one

Warnings: use of y/n, google translated Dutch, inaccurate descriptions of the Ferrari factory (literally couldn’t find ANY photos), some slut shaming, Some of the race results are slightly inaccurate to fit the storyline. Sue me.

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies filled your apartment as the oven timer beeped. You got up from your spot on the floor, past the dozens of half unpacked boxes that littered the floor, and transferred the treats from the oven to a cooling rack.

The offseason had treated you well so far. Charles and Alexandra had helped you pick out an apartment in Monaco, you had visited your friends and family back home, and you hadn’t seen a single gossip page post about you and a certain Dutchman.

Charles, Alexandra, and yourself were in the middle of attempting to unpack your stuff. You were grateful for the two of them helping you, but the building you had chosen felt oddly familiar. Though a finger couldn’t be placed on why it did.

“What are you even doing with all of those?” Charles asked as he got off of the couch and made his way to the counter opposite of you.

“Giving them away to the neighbors” You said “A little offering for me being in the building”

It was a gesture your mama had suggested when she heard you were moving out of the Netherlands. Three dozen cookies were scattered around your counter, with one last dozen being scooped onto the baking tray. Plenty for the people on your floor, and a few left over for snacking.

“Why? You’re probably never going to see your neighbors ever again” He said, grabbing one of the cooled cookies and taking a bite out of it “These are really good”

“Charl!” Alexandra chided her boyfriend as she finished setting up a few of your framed photos on the bookcase

“It’s all good, Alex. I made extra for a reason. Help yourself” You said as you slid one of the plates of cooled cookies closer to the girl

You watched as her eyes lit up when she took a bite of the treat “He’s right. These are so good. Where’s the recipe from?”

“Family recipe. I got it from mama” You replied

“Ugh I’ll have to bug her for it. But I know your neighbors are going to love them” She said

She was right, the neighbors that you got to meet did love them. As the days passed, you were able to meet the couple that lived to the left, the girl that lived to the right, and the group of guys that lived down the hall. But no matter how many times you knocked on the door across from you, no one was home.

You assumed the apartment was empty at first. There were a handful of units that the building was trying to rent out, and the one across the hall must have been one of them. But your idea was quickly thrown out the window by small signs of life from the apartment.

They started small, with Amazon packages in front of the door. The idea to check and see who they were addressed to popped in your head, but you quickly dismissed the thought. You wouldn’t be able to live down the embarrassment of someone catching you in the act.

A pair of APL sneakers were the next thing you found out by the door. They had to be male, with a size around size 41, and painted white with touches of navy blue. No distinctive marks about who the shoes belonged to. The shoes stayed there for a few days, occasionally with a padel racquet propped up against them.

It wasn’t until you returned home one day that you got to meet the person who lived across the hall. You had been out and about taking photos while exploring the city of Monte Carlo. Your feet ached and all you wanted was to lay down and take a nap.

You were at your door, fiddling to find the right key to your apartment, when the door from across the hall flew open. Jumping out of your skin, you turned to see who was the cause, and came face to face with the man you thought you wouldn’t have to see for at least a few more months.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Max questioned, his eyebrows furrowed

“Trying to remember which key is the one to my door.” You said, jiggling the keys you had on your lanyard like it was obvious, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I live here” Max answered, pointing back to the apartment he had just come out of

At that moment, everything made sense. Of course the building felt familiar, you were in it roughly eight months prior after the Monaco Grand Prix. Of course Charles got all giggly when you told him this was the unit you chose.

“Oh, riiighhtt” You said, pretending to remember as you searched through your keys once again. Thankfully, you quickly found the one you were looking for as you sped the next sentence out of your mouth, “Well it was great seeing you but I have things to do. I’ll see you around”

Max couldn’t get a word out as you hastily unlocked your door and entered your apartment, closing the door behind you.

But Max stood there in the hall, processing what happened. And you missed the small whisper of “It’s good to see you too” that left his mouth.

Your camera bag was tossed carelessly on the floor as you whipped out your phone. Normally disregarding your prized possession like that would cause you to wince, but you had more pressing matters on your hands.

The phone rang once, then twice, then a third time, and you were starting to think she wouldn’t pick up. You knew she was awake, it was the same time back home as it was in Monaco. After the fourth ring, her voice finally filled your ears.

“Hoi lieverd, hoe gaat het met de verhuizing? (Hi dear, how’s the move going?) ” Your mama asked as she answered the phone

“Niet slecht, er staan nog steeds overal dozen (Not bad, there’s still boxes everywhere)” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Uitpakken is altijid lastig. Uiteingelijik kom je er wel doorheen (Unpacking is always a pain. You’ll get through it eventually).” She assured you. “Heb jij je buren al ontmoet? (Have you met your neighbors yet?)”

“Ja, ze lijken allemaal leuk. Je raadt nooit wie er aan de overkant van de gang woont. (Yeah they all seem nice. You’ll never guess who lives across the hall)” You said as you moved to one of the scattered boxes. It was labeled dishes.

“Wie? (Who?)” Your mama asked as you started to put some of your plates away into a cabinet

“Max Verstappen” You answered. Silence overcame the two of you as she processed what you said “Mama?”

“Is dat niet prachtig, pompoen! (Isn’t that lovely, pumpkin!)” She exclaimed once it finally hit her. “Je hebt een bekend gezicht in het gebouw! (You have a familiar face in the building!)

“Nee, mama. We zijn geen vrienden meer. Ik heb je verteld wat er vorig seizoen gebeurd is -. (No mom. We’re not friends anymore. I told you what happened last season -.)” You began to protest, but your mama was having none of it. Your mama knew exactly what had happened with Max, but that didn’t stop her from her delusions.

“Ja, ja. Maar je kunt hem beter uitnodigen voor een etentje. Nu moet ik gaan. Ik heb koekjes in de oven. (Yes, yes. But you better have him over for dinner. Now I have to go. I have cookies in the oven.)” She said.

You said your goodbyes, and hung up, leaving you alone in your apartment to unpack, across the hall from an unexpected neighbor.

======

Max returned later that day, bags full of items he bought on his errands. He was greeted by a small plastic sandwich bag on his doormat. A mere moment away from stepping on its contents, he only realized it was there by the crinkle under his foot. He didn’t think anything of it as he picked it up and carried it into the apartment with the rest of his stuff.

The bag was filled with cookies, and a handwritten note was taped to the outer plastic. Calligraphy donned the piece of paper that looked familiar, but Max couldn’t place where from.

Thanks for welcoming me to the neighborhood. Enjoy the taste of home :)

The cookies looked exactly like the ones from his childhood. The ones he could only get at the grade school bake sale. The ones he would purchase with his saved up money from raking leaves and shoveling snow.

Thoughts of what could happen crossed his mind. He knew it could easily end badly, eating some cookies randomly showing up on his doorstep. But the second he dumped the treats out on a plate, all worries left his mind.

When the cookie hit his taste buds, he was suddenly nine again. The bake sale had just opened. Kids crowding around one particular woman, all trying to get their hands on that chocolate chip cookie.

And now one of the few people in the world who knew that cookie recipe lived across the hall from him.

Maranello, Italy

The sun beat down as you skated down the sidewalk outside the Ferrari factory. Italy in the winter was warmer than you expected, much warmer than the winters back home, causing you to leave your puffy coat in the car. The cracks in the uneven sidewalk caused the board to wobble underneath you, forcing you to hop off before you reached the front doors.

It was the first full staff preseason meeting of the year, and the factory seemed to have a new life to it. Naturally, you showed up a bit early, giving you plenty of time to poke around and take some photos. There was no real goal, just to get the point across that the factory hadn’t sat empty for the past two months.

You were standing on the mezzanine balcony that overlooked the main entrance to the building. As people would enter, you were able to snap photos from above. Most people walked right under, not even noticing you were there, but occasionally you would be spotted and get a wave or two.

Carlos was the first of the drivers to walk in. The clicks of your camera prompted him to look up, the classic confused look plastered to his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked

“My job” You answered before joking “Can you pretend to not look miserable to see me”

“That’s kind of hard to do” Charles said as he entered the atrium, hearing your conversation. You rolled your eyes as you continued to snap photos of the two drivers.

“He’s not wrong.” Carlos mumbled, fighting the smirk on his lips “But I meant with the tripod.” He pointed to the tripod that stood next to you, angled down at the atrium entrance.

“I’m filming” You stated “Most of the film will probably be posted on the Ferrari socials, but some stuff, like this conversation, I’ll scrap and throw in a vlog.”

“You’re vlogging?” Charles asked

“Why?” Carlos added

“Are you trying to become internet famous?” Charles finished, curiosity lacing his words.

“What? No,” You said, rejecting his claim “I’m doing it to spread awareness about women in motorsports. There’s only a handful of us to raise the next generation.”

“Wow. That’s a lot better than being internet famous.” Carlos said, clearly impressed

“Thank you Carlos. I’ll see you guys at the meeting. I have a few more things I wanna shoot before I head to the room.” You said. The two drivers made their way under the balcony towards the meeting room.

Packing up your phone and tripod, you headed down to the main level of the building to capture a few more photos. The loud chatter of people echoed the halls as the meeting room doors were wide open. As you entered, you were one of the last ones to the room. Charles, Carlos, Benedetto, and all the higher ups who you were sure didn’t know your name sat at the front. You made your way towards the back of the room, somehow finding a seat next to Annalese.

“Hey” You said as you slid into your seat, carefully putting your camera bag at your feet. Since it was just the intro meeting, you had no reason to photograph Benedetto and the other execs droning on.

“Hey! How are you doing? How was your break?” Annalese asked

You shrugged. “Not bad, definitely busy. I moved to Monaco, which has been exhausting.”

“Wait, that's so exciting! Didn’t Albon and Russell just move there?” She asked

“Alex did? I’ve seen George, Lando and Charles quite a bit, but didn’t realize he moved too. We had a few game and movie nights during the break.” You told her “The only thing that sucks about it is that Max lives literally right across the hall.”

“No he doesn’t” Annalese said in disbelief

“Yes he does”

“The universe really decided to torture you” Annalese chuckled

“Don’t even get me started” You replied “He hasn’t been a problem yet.”

“That’s good.” She said before her face lit up. “Oh my god I almost forgot. Y/n, this is Isabella. She’s the new photographer we hired. Isabella, this is Y/n.”

Your attention turned from your boss to the girl sitting on the other side of her. Her long brunette hair matched perfectly with her eyes. The name tag everyone was forced to wear during their first few days was pinned to her Ferrari branded polo. You were aware that the company had been looking for a new photographer to help lighten Annalese’s workload, but wasn’t informed they had actually hired one.

“Hi, I’m Y/n” You introduced yourself “It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Ferrari”

Isabella responded with a soft smile as she spoke “Thank you.”

Just like you thought, most of the execs that spoke during the meeting droned on. Once you heard one of them lack any enthusiasm as they claimed they were so excited for the entire season, you could block out the rest. The speaker that made you snap out of your daydreaming was none other than the new Team Principal, Fred Vasseur.

“Wow guys” Fred began, his voice bellowing through the room. “It is an absolute honor standing in front of you guys today. I know each and every one of you work your asses off every day to make this team run, and I am more than excited to work with all of you.”

Sakir, Bahrain

The first day back in the paddock was always nerve racking. Teams were making final adjustments to the cars before the public got to see them, rookies were about to make their debuts in the cars they dreamed of driving as kids, and you were back to running around like a mad man.

Even though the paddock was full of anxiety and preseason jitters, it was also full of a sense of familiarity. Faces that you haven’t seen since Abu Dhabi, and names of people that you couldn’t quite remember.

Ferrari had moved up to the second garage along pitlane, with Mercedes dropping and kicking out McLaren. Unfortunately, Red Bull was still on the other side of the red terminals, after winning the Constructors Championship last season.

You were in the midst of giving Isabella her paddock tour, just as Annalese did you a year prior. The new photographer took in all of the information you gave her: which teams prefer visitors on what days, what teams to avoid, and which teams will let you sneak into hospitality and take a warm chocolate chip cookie (Thanks Williams).

As you approached Williams, you noticed a blonde headed boy you had never seen before. He was standing next to Alex, who towered over him, the two of them in deep conversation. The blonde seemed much more reserved, taking everything in rather than doing much of the talking.

You slowed your pace, glancing at Isabella to see her taking in the scene. Alex exuded his usual vibrant energy, while the blonde exuded a quiet focus, his blue eyes absorbed every detail.

The Ferrari red polos always made you stick out like a sore thumb near the blue Williams garage. Alex quickly caught sight of you, waving both you and Isabella over.

“Y/n!” he called “It’s so good to see you. How was your winter break?”

“Not bad. Charles convinced me to join the Monaco group” you replied, excitement bubbling inside you

“He did? We’ll have to meet up sometime when we’re both back home. Lily and I will have to show you some of our favorite spots”

“You’ll have to beat Charles and Alexandra to it” you warned before turning to your coworker. “This is Isabella, our new photographer for the season.”

“It’s so nice to meet you” she said, giving the driver and the blonde a warm smile.

“I’m Alex, and this is our new driver, Logan”

Logan offered a shy smile, his blue eyes bright with curiosity. “Hi, nice to meet you both” he said, his voice soft but steady

Isabella’s excitement to be in the paddock seemed to encourage the blonde “So, how are you finding your first race weekend, Logan?” She asked

“It’s amazing” He replied, glancing at Alex before continuing “Everything is so fast paced, and there’s so much to learn, but I love it.”

Alex chimed in “He’s been doing really great, really picking up on things quickly. We’re lucky to have him.”

Logan glanced down to your red polo before remeeting your eyes. “Are you also a photographer?”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Yeah, I mostly work with Charles, but you’ll probably see me bouncing all around Ferrari.”

Logan copied your nod, clearly intrigued with your role in the team “That sounds really cool. It must be amazing to be so close to everything.”

“It is. It’s definitely overwhelming at times, but that’s just part of the fun” you said

Further down pit lane was Ferrari’s former neighbors, and sure enough the garage was bustling. Mechanics were busy assembling the car, engineers were analyzing the data from testing, while Lando and an unnamed man were yapping right outside.

“So that’s Lando, he’s one of the McLaren drivers.” You informed Isabella as you pointed to the curly haired man. “And I’m going to be so honest, I have no idea who the other guy is.”

At the sound of your voice saying your name, Lando’s head turned. The other guy followed suit, his eyes landing on the two of you. Lando broke into a smile upon seeing you, while the unnamed man’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n!” The Brit exclaimed as he walked over to you “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you”

“You saw me last week, Lando.” You informed him. “This is Isabella, she’s the new Ferrari photographer”

As you looked between the two of them, you could see Isabella practically throwing heart eyes at the driver. Was he conventionally attractive? Sort of. But knowing his playboy personality, he wasn’t someone you’d wanna be with romantically.

“I’m Lando” He said as if it wasn’t obvious before motioning to the other guy to come join the group. “And this is Oscar. He’s my new teammate”

“Hi guys” He said, a thick Australian accent peaking through. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, much less enthusiastic with the unexpected guests. You assumed his demeanor was just from the nerves of the first day, all of the new information and new people popping in and out was overwhelming.

“I’m y/n” You said “Isabella and I are both photographers for Ferrari”

You learned a bit more about the Aussie, both from him telling you and Lando making slight comments. Lando joined you in swapping stories from the paddock, filling both of the newbies in. Each time Lando spoke, you swore hearts grew in her pupils.

“They seem nice” Isabella spoke as the two of you finally left the papaya behind

“I can’t vouch for Oscar, but I know Lando is. Most of the drivers are good guys.” You told her

Thankfully she didn’t ask for any explanation on what you meant by most. Having to explain your personal childhood beef and adult situation with the reigning World Champion would’ve bruised your ego a bit too much.

Finally, you found yourselves standing in front of the final garage on pit lane. The navy blue was ice cold, a complete one eighty from the slight warmth it gave you before. The garage was emptier than McLaren’s but still had a few stragglers working on the cars.

“And last but not least, Red Bull. Last years Constructor’s Champion, and home to last year’s Driver’s Champion” You said

“And home to the best content team on the grid” A voice said.

Both you and Isabella turned around to see Meg approaching. You shook your head, but cracked a grin as you introduced the two girls to each other.

“You’ll probably be seeing her and the other Red Bull girls pretty often. Aside from being garage neighbors, we do collab content with them occasionally” You informed the new photographer

“Speaking of which, we have something scheduled in an hour.” Meg told you

Your eyes widened as you processed her words. “We do?”

======

And that’s how you found yourself, along with the rest of the Red Bull and Ferrari media teams, outside the teams’ hospitalities. Two hippity hops balls were in your hands, one blue and one red. Yourself, along with Isabella were setting up the activity you were forcing the four drivers to do, while Meg, Sofi, and Jess were setting up the cameras and lighting.

“What the hell are you making us do?” Charles asked as both him and Carlos exited the Ferrari motorhome. At the same time, Checo and Max joined the group as they made their way through the paddock.

Holding up the hippity hops, a shit eating grin formed on your face as you answered “We’re playing a game!”

When Max’s gaze first landed on you, his heart skipped a beat. Your hair color slightly changed since he saw you in the hallway, but you looked just as amazing in the Ferrari polo he knew you were forced to wear. He only looked away when Meg was giving directions.

“The rules are simple” Meg said once everything was set up. “The first person is going to hop the hippity hop from this tape mark, to the table down there. When you get to the table, there is a track name written on a piece of paper. When you’re done drawing the track, you turn around and hop back. Give the ball to your teammate and they’re going to do the same thing”

“There are four different tracks so no one can cheat,” Jess added.

As expected, chaos ensued. Opposing drivers tried knocking each other off of their rides, while laughs were held back by everyone on the media teams. Fans and employees alike couldn’t help but stop and watch for a few moments as four of the best drivers on the grid made an absolute fool of themselves.

After a highly competitive race, the Red Bull boys were deemed the winners. The media teams cleaned up the mess that was made, as the four drivers simply meandered around, yapping to whoever would listen.

You were breaking down the foldable table with Isabella as Max approached. Out of the corner of your eye, Max fiddled with the Red Bull can in his hands, trying to figure out what to say to you.

“Hey” Max finally said

“Hi Max” You replied, your focus still on the table that wouldn’t fold

The hand that wasn’t messing with the Red Bull was stuck in his pocket. “Just wanted to say thank you for the cookies. They were really good”

Your eyes broke from the table to meet his for the first time that day. “You ate them?”

When you put the cookies on his doormat, you didn’t know what would happen to them. You assumed he would just ignore them or throw them out. The thought of him eating them didn’t come close to crossing your mind.

“I mean, yeah” He answered as if it was obvious “It was the same recipe your mama always made for the bake sale, right?”

“I-yeah, they are. She gave me the recipe when I graduated grade school” You told him. It was hard enough to process the fact that he ate your cookie peace offering. But for him to remember that it was your mama’s recipe, and the same one she brought to all of the fundraisers truly blew you away.

“They taste just like how I remembered them,” Max said. “Hope the move to Monaco wasn’t too bad”

“It was pretty easy. Charles and Alexandra helped pick out the place. The two of them and a couple other guys on the grid helped me move in and unpack. I think the hardest part was meeting my crazy neighbor that lives across the hall.” You joked, though it was partially true.

“You two know each other?” Isabella asked, causing you to break your gaze away from Max. To be completely honest, you forgot she was even there. The table had been folded up and she heard your entire conversation.

“Yeah, we uh” You began, not really sure how to label the childhood enemies to semi friends to whatever you are now.

“We grew up together,” Max finished. You gave him a quick smile, thanking him for saving you.

“Grew up together and I happened to move into the apartment across the hall from him. Didn’t even know he lived there.” You said “If you want to head back to Ferrari, go ahead. I’m taking these to the Energy Station and then I’ll be back”

The two of you watched as Isabella made her way back to the red and black motorhome. Neither of you dared to move a muscle until she was gone.

“How’s the new girl been?” He asked

You glanced back to the Ferrari motorhome to make sure she was gone before speaking. “She’s okay. Definitely gonna take a few races to grasp everything. She was eyeing Lando earlier when we ran into him on her pit tour”

“Somehow I’m not surprised” Max said, shaking his head “He could breathe and girls would flock to him”

“Right” You agreed.

Max wasn’t sure how the first interaction with you during the season would go. He was expecting you to ignore him, storm off or cause a scene. The absolute last thing on his list was you being willing to hold a conversation.

“Do you need help carrying the table?” Max asked, though he was slightly relieved when you declined the offer. His hands were sweaty, and with his luck, he’d end up dropping it.

The two of you grew quiet as neither of you knew what to say. The sound of your shoes crunching on the broken asphalt filled the air.

“So you didn’t move across the hall to get closer to me?” Max joked, breaking the temporary silence

“No Max, I didn’t” You answered “I honestly completely forgot you even lived in that building. When I went to your place, it was late at night in a city I didn’t know at the time”

“I figured. I’m surprised Charles didn’t say anything” He said

“I’d honestly be more surprised if he had told me” You chuckled. Charles was definitely a yapper, but he knew you would’ve tossed any thought of moving to Monaco if you knew you’d be neighbors with Max.

“That’s fair, he’s picky with what info he shares” Max said “How’ve you been though, since last season?”

“Really good” You answered “All the crazy rumors have gone away.”

The words hit Max harder than they should’ve. You were never his, and he was never yours. But god did he wish you were. Rumors were the closest he had gotten, and he never wanted more than those crazy rumors to be true.

“That’s good, glad they all died down.” He said. The last thing he needed was to ruin the civility between you. So, he swallowed the lump of feelings and forced a smile.

You had dropped the table off outside of the motorhome for their media team to pick up when they got there. Quickly, goodbyes were said before you made your way back to Ferrari.

======

The race on Sunday was forgettable.

Charles had done well until he was forced to retire due to an engine failure. While Carlos placed in fourth, the Red Bulls had taken the top two steps, with Max landing on the top. As much as you would have loved for Ferrari to join the Red Bulls, you weren’t sure if you could deal with hearing your national anthem yet.

So, you volunteered to be the photographer that followed Charles to the media pen. It gave you plenty of chances to get more content of the driver. Most of the photos were going to turn out the same, just him yapping, but you didn’t care. The images would most likely end up on your photography dedicated Instagram account, and that was fine. You just needed a reason to be busy.

After celebrating the win with his team, Max entered the media pen with his PR manager. One of the Ferrari drivers was in the pen already, though he only realized it was Charles when he spotted a familiar camera lens a few feet away.

He moved through the rituals of answering the media's ridiculous questions, every once in a while looking to his right to catch a glimpse of you. Each time, you could feel his eyes land on you as well as the exact moment they left. You were able to quickly snap a photo of him when his focus was no longer on you. Another group of B roll images that would end up on your photography account.

======

You were fortunate enough to travel back to Monaco immediately after your job was done. As much as you loved traveling and exploring the world, you were always happy to be home.

The same couldn’t be said for Max. His plan was to leave Bahrain as soon as his media duties were done, but due to a failure in the engine, he was forced to stay another day. It wouldn’t have been a problem, if he didn’t have the cats waiting for him.

Usually, the cats would be fine for a race weekend. He would have the guy down the hall check in on them, giving them fresh food, water, and litter. But, the guy down the hall went on vacation the same day Max was going to be back. It left him with no choice but to reach out to someone else.

It was late when you finally got back to your apartment. Very little debate was needed to decide that the unpacking could wait until the morning, opting for a warm shower instead. When you got out, you weren’t expecting your phone to go off.

Max: Can you do me a favor? The plane is broken so I’m stuck in Bahrain for another day

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read the text. As much as you didn’t want to help him, you knew he wouldn’t reach out unless it was absolutely dire. Your fingers danced around before typing up a response.

You: Depends, what do you need?

Max: Can you take care of the cats for me? My usual sitter left for vacation today. It’s just feeding, water, and changing the litter

As his next message came in, you knew you had to say yes. You had fallen in love with Jimmy and Sassy the second you walked into Max’s apartment last season. It would be cruel to say no.

You: Yeah, I can. Lmk where your key/the supplies are and I’ll run over

A sigh of relief left Max’s lips as he received your texts. He quickly sent over instructions on the cats, along with where his spare key was located. You shot back a “thanks” before going on your way.

Even without Max telling you, you easily could’ve guessed where his key was. The only thing outside his door was a dirty mat. Without second thought, you lifted up the corner. Sure enough, a silver key sat under it.

The key slid into the lock and twisted with ease. Twisting the knob, you pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge. You tried again, knowing full well you were supposed to push, but again it stayed shutl. On the third attempt, the door finally burst open, and two pairs of cat eyes stared at you from the other side. Meows from the duo ensued as you closed the door behind you.

The apartment looked almost exactly like you remembered it last season. His helmets were hung along the walls while some of his trophies were displayed on shelves. His sim was tucked into the far corner of the living room, flanked by more F1 memorabilia. You couldn’t help but chuckle when one of the newest trophies to his collection, the Driver’s Champion trophy, was carelessly placed on a mini fridge stocked full of Red Bull.

Following the directions Max had sent you, you were quickly able to find the litter as well as the food and water. When you got to changing the food, Jimmy weaved his way in and out of your legs, almost causing you to trip over him. Sassy cautiously watched from a distance as you went about your job, but let you get close enough to her to snap a photo of the two cats. After one last look over the apartment, you made your way back across the hall.

Max received one last text from you letting him know the cats were doing well. Thoughts of you taking care of the felines with him flooded his mind as he received the photo of them.

Baku, Azerbaijan

You propped your phone up on a ledge in a relatively quiet corner of the paddock. At the start of the season, you decided you would vlog every single race weekend, and Baku was no different. It was the first sprint weekend though, giving you plenty more content.

Outside of the motorhome, you filmed the introduction, including explaining the sprint weekend schedule. Because of the additional race, qualifying and practices had been altered, moved, or removed to accommodate.

You’d be lying if you said vlogging felt completely normal. During the first race weekend, you were so in your head and convinced people were making fun of you that you almost completely scrapped the idea for the entire season.

“What are you doing?” you heard a voice ask. Your attention turned from your phone to the stretch of sidewalk you were on. Logan was standing there, confusion plastered on his face.

You smiled, a little embarrassed, “Just vlogging the weekend. Figured I’d share the F1 experience” You gestured to your phone where you quickly stopped the recording.

Logan raised an eyebrow, stepping closer “That’s a bold move in this paddock” He chuckled, but there was a hint of genuine interest in his voice.

“Yeah, I guess it is. At first, I thought people would think it’s silly, but I’m really enjoying it now. It’s a different way to connect with the fans.”

He nodded, leaning casually up against the ledge. “I get that. Everyone loves the behind-the-scenes stuff. It’s fun to see the real side of racing.”

A rush of relief filled you as he showed his support. “Thanks. What about you? How’s everything going at Williams?”

Logan shrugged, indifference shown on his face. “Eh alright. I don’t think the car is where it’s supposed to be, but there’s still plenty of season left.”

“Got to stay optimistic, right?” you replied “You know what would make you feel better?”

“What?” Logan asked, his eyebrows furrowing

A smirk formed on your lips as you stood up. “A fresh chocolate chip cookie from Williams”

Logan laughed, shaking his head “You’re not wrong, those cookies are to die for. It’s a shame I already had my allotted cookie for the day.”

“Oh come on. I don’t think it’ll kill you to have one extra cookie. It’s a pick me up.” you teased

“Tell that to my trainer.” Logan said “We’d have to sneak in there if we wanted any”

The wheels in your head began to turn, already plotting “Easy. I’ll need your help getting in though. You know I don’t have access”

“Deal” Logan said, a playful spark in his eyes. “Just don’t let the team catch you, otherwise I’ll be in trouble”

“Trust me, I’ll keep it discreet.” You said as you picked up your phone. “Do you mind if I vlog the walk to Williams though?”

He shook his head “Not at all. Honestly the entire thing would make for some good content”

“Perfect” you said as you hit record again. “So change of plans. I ran into Logan, and we are currently on the way to the Williams motorhome to go and grab some cookies. For those of you who don’t know, Williams is known on the grid for having the best and freshest sweet treats.”

As the two of you walked down the paddock, you and Logan talked about how he navigates through a race weekend, and how he’s feeling about his first F1 sprint weekend. You finally got to the Williams hospitality, your stomach hurting from laughing so much with him. You paused your recording to strap your phone to place it in the harness you got specifically to capture behind the scenes footage.

“Wait, how are we even doing this?” you asked, looking at the American

“I’ll distract, you grab the goodies,” he said, you nodded in response.

After pressing record once more, you followed Logan into the Williams building, hoping that your Ferrari red would blend in just enough. The dining area was bustling, a couple of the team members chatting while others worked on prep. In the far corner sat the cookie jar.

Logan walked over to the lady who was overseeing the dessert station, easily striking up a conversation with her. The way she was facing blocked her view of the cookie jar, giving you an easy route to take them.

You walked over, acting like you belonged, and grabbed enough for you, Logan, and the two Ferrari boys, as you were filming with them in a bit. Once you had the cookies, you tapped Logan on the shoulder, letting him know you were good. Both you and Logan disappeared out of the WIlliams hospitality, into the blazing heat of Azerbaijan.

Eventually, you got to the bright red Ferrari motorhome. The blasting A/C was a welcoming relief as you escaped the heat. Both of the drivers were sitting at a table talking, only noticing you when you approached them.

“Well, well, well, look who finally showed up” Carlos spoke as he got up from his chair

“Oh shut up” You said, rolling your eyes “I ran into Logan and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from Williams” Both of the drivers' ears perked up. They knew how good those cookies were.

“Did you bring us any?” Charles asked

You moved your hand from behind your back, showing two cookies wrapped in a napkin “You know I wouldn’t keep these away from you”

“You are amazing” Carlos said as he, along with Charles, took a cookie.

“I know, I know” You smiled before placing your camera bag on the table “It’s going to be a fun session today though” A groan left both of the boys’ mouths, cookie crumbs following suit.

“The last time you said that you made us stick clothespins to our bodies” Carlos reminded you.

“Yeah, and that was fun for me” You smirked, “But I think you guys are actually going to find today enjoyable”

Both of the drivers exchanged glances as the only sound came from you unzipping your camera bag. You took out one of your cameras, offering it to Charles.

“You are becoming tour guides” You said “You can pick who's going to operate the camera and who’s gonna be on camera, but you guys are going to give a tour of the garage, motorhome, and general paddock area”

In addition to the camera you handed Charles, you took out another one for you to use. While you strapped your phone back onto the mount on your chest, the drivers decided that Charles was going to record and Carlos would be in front of the camera.

“So how do I work this thing?” Charles asked, clearly confused by the gadget in his hand

A chuckle left your lips before you walked him through everything he would need. You could see the pure joy in his face when he discovered to zoom and focus by turning the lens. As he hit the red record button, you were ready to roll.

“Hi guys, today I am going to be giving you a tour of the paddock in Baku.” Carlos started as he looked around the motorhome. “Charles is here too, he’s operating the camera today”

“Hello guys” Charles said as he waved his fingers in front of the lens, clearly way too close for comfort.

The tour of the motorhome was nothing short of boring. Carlos danced in someone’s empty office, in addition to almost spilling the entirety of the pot of freshly brewed coffee. As the three of you left the motorhome, Charles offered up the camera to Carlos. The Spaniard happily took it before looking to you like a lost puppy.

“Can you show me how to operate?” He asked

You passed the camera in your hands to Charles before walking over to Carlos. Just like you did with the other driver, you walked Carlos through the buttons and everything he needed to do a good job. Once Carlos got the idea, you took your camera back from Charles.

“Alright guys, we are now in the main walkway area of the paddock. Most of the time spent here is walking to and from the motorhome and the garage, or to our various media commitments” Charles said to the camera

As you turned to follow Charles and Carlos down the pavement, you found Max walking towards the group. The smile on his face quickly dropped when he realized you weren’t the one operating your camera, and that it was Carlos instead. But the smile, along with an increased dose of nerves, returned when he saw you a few feet behind the driver.

“Is he taking your job?” Max asked, motioning to Carlos. Both of the Ferrari drivers were hypnotized by their task that they didn’t notice the Dutchman.

“You could say that” You chuckled “I figured I should stop torturing the guys during my sessions with them and actually give them something fun to do”

“I wish our media team did something like this. It gets boring constantly doing interviews” He admitted

Your eyebrows furrowed “Didn’t you guys go offroading across Austria a few years ago?”

“I mean yeah, but that was years ago” He said “I mean I want more fun things in the paddock. You guys always have the best ideas”

Your cheeks grew warm as you took in Max’s compliment. It was always fun when Ferrari and Red Bull worked together, but you knew where he was coming from with Red Bull’s ideas being boring. As much as you loved their media team, whenever it came to a meeting with them, it always ended with tons of their ideas being scrapped.

“Thank you, Max” You said, a soft smile forming on your lips, “I’ll have to check our calendars and see what we have going on in the next few races. If there’s time, we should definitely do another collab”

In the distance, you could see Carlos and Charles getting further and further away. If you didn’t follow them now, you knew you would never be able to find them again. Turning to Max, your soft smile turned into an apologetic one.

“I’m so sorry but I have to go. I don’t need Tweedledee and Tweedledum breaking my camera” you apologized

“No worries” Max said “I’m surprised you even let them touch it in the first place”

A laugh left your mouth as you said your goodbyes to Max. You quickly turned around and jogged down the paddock to catch up to the two drivers who were still goofing off.

The rest of the filming session went as smoothly as it could. Shenanigans still ensued, but thankfully your camera was still intact, and filled with tons of content for you to use.

======

It was almost ten at night when you entered the hotel lobby. You had just gotten back from the track, and by the looks of Max standing at the elevators, so did he.

“Hey stranger” You called as you approached the driver

Max turned to see you walking towards him. You still had on your work uniform, and exhaustion all over your face. But when he locked eyes with you, a small smile formed, but your eyes screamed you needed to go to bed.

“Hey, how was your day?” He asked

“Long” You replied “And it’s not even close to being over.”

“What? Aren’t you just going up to bed?” Max asked

You chuckled as you shook your head “I wish. I still have to eat dinner and edit some of the content from today. I’ll probably get to sleep in a few hours.”

Max winced as he heard your plans for the night. While he knew there was more to a media job than snapping photos and recording videos, he didn’t think the responsibilities would spill so late into the night.

“Do you want a friend? Just so you’re not alone?” Max suggested

“Oh, you really don’t have to” You said as the elevator doors opened. Max followed you into the lift. “You have to drive tomorrow”

“So?” He asked “I usually stay up late looking at data anyway. It wouldn’t be a problem”

“Alright, if it isn’t an inconvenience, you can join me.” You gave in “But I can’t have any distractions, I need to get this stuff done tonight. It’s all going out tomorrow”

A ding filled the elevator signaling that you had reached the correct floor. The doors opened and you followed Max out into the hall.

“Deal. I’ll go change and then I’ll be over” He said as he made a left down the hall, while you made a right.

“Oh, and y/n?” He called

“Yes?”

“Room service is on me tonight” Max told you. As much as you wanted to object and say you could take care of yourself, Max had disappeared down the hall.

You quickly made your way into your hotel room, showering and trading your work polo and jeans for a black Ferrari hoodie and matching sweatpants. As you set up your laptop and the SD cards of your two cameras, a soft knock landed on your door. Opening it, you found Max on the other side. He was dressed in a similar sweatsuit to yours, only being navy blue instead. His hands filled with his laptop and a pair of headphones.

“Come on in, make yourself comfortable” You said as you moved to the side.

Max made his way into the small hotel room. The queen bed was the centerpiece, but two desks lined up against the far window, giving a gorgeous view of the city lights of Baku. He saw your stuff on the desk to the right, so he opted to place his stuff to the left.

“So, what’re you thinking for dinner?” He asked as he took out the pamphlet that had the room service menu on it.

“Depends, what are you getting?” You replied as you walked up to him, barely being able to comfortably look over his shoulder at the menu.

Max could feel your presence behind him. Every breath, every movement was taken note of. A jolt ran through his body when he felt your chin land on his shoulder, trying to get a better look at the paper he was holding. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of the menu, desperately trying to think of an answer to your question.

“I-uh um, probably the kebabs” He stuttered out, before handing you the menu over his shoulder

Your eyes glanced over the menu, eventually choosing one of the chicken dishes. Max watched as you picked up the phone and placed the order, his mind still spinning from how close the two of you were moments earlier.

“Alright, it should be here soon” You said once you hung up the phone. “Thank you for paying for it, you really didn’t have to.”

Max shrugged “It’s no problem, really. It’s the least I could do to make your day a bit better”

As the two of you waited for your food, you got to work. The main goal was to edit the tour that Charles and Carlos had given earlier in the day. Easy, right?

Wrong.

It started with the fact that Max was simply in the room. There was nothing he did or said that forced you to take your eyes off of your screen to look at him, but you did. In fact, he was quite respectful. He didn’t say a word to you as you attempted to work.

But you couldn’t help but catch yourself staring at him. You didn’t know why, it was just Max afterall. Just Max who continuously made fun of you in grade school. Just Max who almost got you arrested years ago. Just Max who welcomed you to Formula One with open arms. Just Max who you cried to in the hotel in Miami last season. Just Max, who you developed a crush on last year that you swore you bottled up and put on the shelf.

At least, you thought you did.

It only got worse when Max realized that you were staring. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, only doing a double take when he saw your attention was on him already. He removed the headset and paused the video he was watching to turn to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked

“What?” You questioned snapping out of your daze. “Um yeah, I’m good”

Max’s eyes narrowed, not believing you for a second. “Are you sure? You were looking at me weirdly”

“Yeah, no, yeah I’m fine. Just lost in thought. Editing decisions, that’s all” You explained

He nodded, still unsure whether or not to be convinced. Before he could question your reasons, a knock on the door caused him to break eye contact.

“I’ll get it” He insisted

You watched as Max got up from his seat to your door. After a brief exchange between the driver and the hotel worker, Max came back with two trays in his hands. You rushed over, taking the second tray from him so he wouldn’t spill. As your fingers brushed his, you fought to capture the butterflies that were taking over your stomach.

“Thank you again, Max” You said, placing your tray down at your station.

“Of course, y/n” He replied as he followed suit by placing his tray at his desk. “How’s the video editing going along?”

“You wanna see it?” you asked, a smirk dancing on your lips

“Of course”

You scooted your chair closer to him, dragging your laptop and your food along with it. As you rewound the video to the start, you could feel Max rest his arm on the back of your chair.

Laughter immediately ensued as you pressed play. The camera was slightly shaky as Charles’ voice asked for help on how to use it. Your voice was faintly heard as you explained, before cutting to Carlos introducing himself and explaining the reason for the video.

The footage continued, showcasing the areas around the paddock, garage, and motorhome. Every so often, you would chime in, giving Max little behind-the-scenes tidbits. Suddenly, the film changed to a part of the paddock you don’t remember being at.

“This must have been when we were busy yapping” you said as you squinted at the screen

“Yeah, glad nothing happened to the camera while you were gone.” Max said “You can never trust the two of them” As if on cue, the screen jostled and a view of the grass was shown.

“He dropped my camera?!” You exclaimed, your eyes widened at the sight “I’m going to kill him”

Max burst into laughter, clearly entertained by your reaction. “At least it still works”

You shook your head in disbelief, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling in you “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the idiots.”

Max leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “You know, instead of a tour, you could title the video: ‘How not to handle a camera, featuring C squared”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle. As you resumed the video, you watched Charles pick up the camera, his sheepish grin evident even through the shaky footage. “Oh he knows he messed up” you muttered, watching as he tried to make light of the situation, joking with Carlos in the background.

Monte Carlo, Monaco

As much as you loved traveling, you were thankful for Formula One to return to Monaco. Living out of a suitcase was tough, but the experiences you got made it all worth it.

With you having a place in Monaco, you offered Logan and Oscar your place for the weekend. The three of you had slowly grown closer as the season progressed, bonding over running late to whatever track you were at, watching random sporting events, and a lot of FaceTime calls.

“Holy shit!” Logan exclaimed as he walked out to your balcony, his eyes wide with disbelief. “This is your view?”

You chuckled, leaving against the railing beside him. “Pretty incredible, right? It never gets old.”

He gazed out at the breathtaking scene - the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean stretching out beneath the blazing sun, the picturesque harbor filled with yachts, and the iconic winding streets of Monte Carlo. The only change to your regular view was the presence of the grandstands placed around the streets.

“This is unreal,” he said, shaking his head in amazement, “I cannot believe we get to spend the weekend here.”

Oscar joined the two of you out on the balcony, a grin on his face as he took in the view for his first time. “It’s definitely a step up from the hotel rooms we usually get” he joked

You laughed, appreciating the camaraderie that had developed among the three of you. You knew Logan and Oscar had been friends, and former teammates in karting, so you were grateful the duo welcomed you to the friend group.

“I figured it’d be nice to have a home base instead of just dealing with a cramped hotel room” You shrugged

Logan turned to you, sincerity in his eyes “Thanks for offering this. It makes a huge difference. I feel like I can actually relax before the race.”

“It’s no problem at all” you replied “It’s fun having friends around”

“You already have a certain someone around though” Oscar chimed in a teasing tone in his voice. You furrowed your eyebrows, intrigued. “Max is across the hall, isn’t he?”

The boys both knew about your situation with Max - the reigning world champion often being a topic of conversation on those late night calls, mixed with playful teasing and curious speculation. You felt your cheeks warm at the mention of his name.

“Yeah, he is,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone casual, but the slight flutter in your stomach gave you away. “But it’s not what you think”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “What do you mean? Just friends sharing a building?”

You nodded, though the teasing glances exchanged between the two of them made you a little self conscious. “Exactly. We’re just neighbors. We don’t even hang out when we’re both home.”

Oscar leaned in, clearly enjoying the moment. “Right, but you two hang out in other places around the world, sharing room service and media content.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing but feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Okay, yes. We’ve had some fun moments together. But it’s all professional.”

Logan chuckled “Sure, professional. Until you end up showing him more than just your photos”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile “You guys are ridiculous. Max is great, but I’m focused on my work.”

“Just admit it,” Oscar said, still grinning “You wouldn’t mind having him around more often.”

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind it” you admitted, finally coming to terms with the resurfacing feelings you had for the Dutchman. “But let’s be real. I have a job to do.”

Logan nudged you playfully “Exactly, you can’t let a guy distract you. We need those epic shots of us on the track.”

You rolled your eyes “I don’t even take photos of you guys.” you shot back, playfully dismissing him before disappearing back into your apartment.

======

The Grand Prix being in Monaco though, only meant plenty of running around with the hometown boy and late nights editing content. Qualifying had ended hours earlier, but you and Charles were still stuck in the paddock, filming videos for all of the Ferrari social media pages.

“I think we have one more to do, then we should be good” you said, your voice full of remorse “I don’t know why they chose to throw all of this on us with the race being tomorrow”

Charles chuckled, running a hand through his hair, clearly tired, but still in good spirits. “It’s part of the stress of a home race. Everyone wants a bit of you.”

“Tell me about it” you agreed as you set up the last shot. Thankfully the last thing on the to do list was a simple thank you video to the fans. Once the camera was set up, you moved the driver into frame, and pressed record.

Even through the visible exhaustion on his face, Charles executed his words perfectly. Times like this made you grateful to work with a driver who was able to crank out the grueling work quickly, so both of you could get out of there.

“Perfect” you said after stopping the recording. “Thank you again for doing all of this, it wasn’t fair to you”

Charles shrugged “It’s like this, can’t change any of it now.” he said. You couldn’t help but smile at him messing up the saying ‘it is what it is’.

“True. But you’re free to go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” you said as you packed up your camera, tripod, and phone that was recording the behind the scenes

His eyebrows furrowed as his head tilted “Are you not leaving too?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. If I go home, I’m going to crash, and I need to get everything we just did edited for tomorrow.” you answered

“You better not stay up too late though” Charles warned “We need you ready to go for tomorrow”

You couldn’t help but chuckle “I’ll try, but you know how it is - there’s always one more thing to tweak. Regardless, there’s nothing a can of Red Bull won’t fix.”

A smirk formed on Charles’ lips, his eyebrows both raised. It took you a second to process what you had said.

“I meant it as a general term for an energy drink” you explained yourself, thankful that the paddock wasn’t super bright so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks

“Yeah, sure you did” he rolled his eyes, the smirk still plastered on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” He said before turning to head to the exit

“See you tomorrow, Charles” you echoed before turning and entering the Ferrari motorhome

As you worked hastily in the paddock, trying to get everything done for the night, Max had entered your shared apartment building, ready to rest before the race the next day. What he didn’t expect to see was a certain American driver already standing at the elevator doors.

“Logan?” Max questioned. Sure enough, the blonde turned around, his face filled with just as much confusion as Max’s. “What are you doing here?”

“Just trying to get some rest before the race tomorrow.” He answered “I’m staying with y/n for the weekend. She offered her place.”

Max’s eyebrows raised as Logan’s words hit his ears. She offered her place. They repeated in his mind. “Oh, did she?”

Logan nodded, a friendly grin on his face. “Yeah, she’s been super accommodating. Figured it would be easier and cheaper than trying to find a hotel.”

The elevator echoed a ding through the lobby. Once the doors opened, the drivers walked in, Max opting to lean up against the wall.

“So you’re just crashing with her, huh? How convenient.” he said, crossing his arms. Indifference feigned from his mouth, but curiosity, mixed with a tinge of jealousy bubbled underneath the surface.

“Yeah, it’s quite nice being literally walking distance to the track. I’ve never had anything like this before” The American said, pressing the button for the floor Max shared with you.

Max couldn’t help but chuckle, trying to mask his intrigue. “I’ll have to admit, she picked a great building to move into. But you didn’t just come for the accommodations, did you?”

Logan shot back a look. He knew Max was trying to bait him, get him to slip up and admit something he didn’t actually mean. “Y/n’s a great friend, always fun to hang out with. She’s been showing me her photos and paintings. They cover her walls.”

Again, Logan’s words struck Max like a bullet, just as another realization hit. Logan had seen your apartment before Max had. He had seen your hotel rooms and childhood bedroom, but never your current residence.

Max’s expression shifted slightly, a mix of amusement and annoyance. “Oh really? She’s shown you her art? That’s…nice.” The words felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to keep his tone light.

“It’s impressive. You should ask her to show you sometime” Logan replied, only slightly aware of the undertones of the conversation “She has a real talent for capturing the energy of the races.”

The younger image of himself blazed in Max’s mind. He knew all too well how good you were at capturing the energy of a win.

“Sure,” Max replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. “I’ll add it to my list of things to do.”

As they stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, Logan continued to praise your work. “Yeah, it’s honestly great to see someone so passionate about what they do. It makes you appreciate the whole atmosphere in the paddock more.”

Max nodded, his mind racing far away from the conversation in front of him. He didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of you and Logan spending time together stirred something within him. “Yeah, she’s definitely talented.”

The rest of the walk down the hall was silent, neither driver really knowing what to say. When they got to their respective doors, they exchanged nods, bidding the other goodbye. Logan turned first, Max expecting him to knock on your door, but was quickly caught off guard when he inserted a key into the slot.

His heart sank as he watched the knob turn, the door creaking open quickly after. Logan walked in, giving no glance back to his gridmate before the door closed again.

Max stood there for a moment, staring at the door. The reality of Logan being in your apartment felt like a punch to the gut. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the already built irritation.

“Get it together, Max,” he muttered to himself. He had no right to feel possessive, and had much bigger things on his plate in the next twenty four hours.

======

The Grand Prix was relatively forgettable. While Charles’ strategy was pretty standard, Carlos’ had to be one of the worst you’ve ever seen.

“What the hell are they doing with his race?” you asked Annalese, running into her along the pit.

She glanced at the engineers and strategiests sitting on the wall, each of them with their eyes glued on data filled screens. “No clue. Honestly we could call a better strategy than them”

“Exactly” you agreed “Every time I’ve heard his radio, it’s just been him complaining”

“To be fair, he does complain a lot,” Annalese laughed before bidding you goodbye to get back to work.

Towards the later half of the race, you found yourself at the final corners. A few other photographers were there, all of you aiming to capture the final laps of the Grand Prix.

As the cars roared past, you focused intently on capturing the action, your camera clicking in quick succession. While your focus was on the two cars in red, you could help but to capture a few photos of your roommates for the weekend as they drove past.

To no surprise, Max had crossed the finish line first. You were able to get a few shots of him from a distance, as there were literally no other cars remotely close to him. As neither of the Ferrari boys finished on the podium, you made your way back to the garage, where you found Isabella looking at her camera.

She looked up as you approached, as if she felt your presence. “Was your race as boring as mine?” she asked

You nodded, “Yeah, the best shot I got was of this cool looking bird that landed on the railing during lap 65”

Isabella laughed, shaking her head “At least you got something. All I got was the pit wall’s collective frustration”

“Well that’s their own doing” you chuckled. “I did manage to get a shot or two of Max weaving around the Anthony Nodges curve. The team is gonna have to pay big bucks for them though”

“Oh yeah, they’d totally do that” Isabella said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

You glanced down pit lane at the celebration of Max and his team. Laughter and cheers echoed all the way down the straight, with the Dutch Anthem soon to follow.

“Are you going to the after party?” Isabella asked, forcing you to tear your gaze away from the commotion.

You shook your head, “Nah, it’s gonna be total chaos out there. I have a bottle of wine and photo editing calling my name”

“I get it. I guess you can kinda go out whenever ‘cause you live here” she said “I’m excited to see what the nightlife is finally like.”

“Oh it’s fun.” you emphasized “Knowing Max, you guys will probably end up at either Jimmy’z or Sass Cafe. Just be careful. You never know what the guys are gonna get into”

With one last glance at the festivities down the pit, you said goodbye to your coworker and headed out.

======

Max needed that win badly. He needed the win to prove he was the best. He needed the win to prove to himself he was better than some American on the grid.

But more importantly, Max craved the after party. The wild celebrations, the loud music, the flashing lights - anything and everything to help him escape the pressure. He needed to forget the win, forget the American, and especially forget you.

Just like you predicted, Max found himself and the rest of the party at Jimmy’z. The club was alive, a whirlwind of energy and sound that enveloped him the second he stepped inside. The bass pulsed through his body, drowning out most of the doubts and expectations of the weekend.

Except no matter how many drinks he had, the thoughts of Logan in your apartment still lingered. The image of both of you together, the laughter, the easy intimacy - it was a ghost that haunted him. Every beat of the music seemed to echo the sound of your door closing, with Logan inside.

What made it worse was that neither of you were at the party. Every time he glanced around, he hoped to find you in the crowd, only to be met with a sea of unfamiliar faces. Max knew you were always hit or miss when going out, but he assumed since it was in a place you were familiar with, you’d be joining.

As the night wore on, he pushed through the crowd, seeking distractions in drunken laughter and loud cheers, but the absence of you and Logan loomed larger. Each moment of joy was tainted by the feeling of something missing, a void he couldn’t ignore. A hole that needed to be filled.

He started by surrounding himself with his friends. Lando had just gotten done mixing a set and was leaving the dj booth when Max found him.

“There you are, mate!” Lando said over the booming music, his face lit up with excitement. “You like the mix?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Max said, nodding slightly. The music had been the last thing on his mind.

“Thanks, it’s brand new” Lando continued, completely oblivious to the fact Max wasn’t listening. The Brit spotted the empty glass in Max’s hands prompting his face to light up again. “Next round is on me”

Max didn’t have the time to argue as Lando made his way to the bar. Max followed, weaving in and out of the crowd, only to be handed a shot by his friend.

The two men clinked the glasses before tapping them on the table and putting them to their mouths. Max downed the shot quickly, the burn a welcome distraction.

“Congrats on the win again,” Lando said. Max barely muttered out a “thanks”, and for the first time that night, Lando’s happy-go-lucky disposition changed. “You doing alright, mate?”

“Yeah, just tired” he replied, hoping Lando would drop the topic and move on

Lando studied him for a moment, concern creeping into his expression. “No you’re not.” his eyes narrowed, as if he was zeroing in on the problem. “You’re still mad about y/n and Logan, aren’t you?”

“What? No.” He scoffed. Lando gave him a knowing look. Max’s shoulders slumped in defeat “Yeah”

Lando’s expression softened. “You’ve got to let it go, Max. You can’t let this ruin your night. Celebrate your win!”

Max ran a hand through his hair, frustration slowly bubbling up to the surface. “It’s not that easy, mate. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t help it.”

“Look,” Lando said, leaning in closer, his voice serious. “You’re going to have a million nights sulking. You can’t keep carrying this around with you. Enjoy the moment. Let loose. Go find some girl to entertain you for the night.”

Max let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “You think some random girl is gonna fix this?”

“Maybe not fix, but it could help take your mind off things for the night.” Lando shrugged, handing him a glass filled with god knows what

Max stared at the drink in his hands, the ice clinking against the glass as if mocking him. Lando’s words hung in the air, and he could feel the weight of the night pressing down on him. It was true - he needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the spiral of thoughts that had haunted him since he saw Logan enter your apartment.

His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a girl who could fill the void that you unknowingly left. At the edge of the dance floor, Max caught the gaze of a small brunette. He quickly chugged his drink, placing the empty glass on the bar.

“I’ll see you around” Max said to Lando before making his way back through the crowd

Max pushed through the mass of bodies, the bass pulsing with each step he took. As he approached the brunette, he felt a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. She was laughing with her friends, her smile bright and infectious, but he couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut.

“Hey” he said, leaning in slightly so he could be heard over the music. She turned, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“Hey! You’re Max right?” She asked, the driver nodding in response “Congrats on the win today”

“Thanks, I appreciate it” He said, a genuine smile creeping on his face for the first time tonight. He couldn’t lie, the girl’s energy was infectious.

The two of them quickly found themselves intertwined with each other, the beat of the music driving every movement. Max felt the tension in his chest ease as they danced, the thoughts of you slowly fading away.

Meanwhile, you, Logan and Oscar had made yourselves comfortable in your living room. The sound of the Cars movie filled the background as the three of you split a bottle of red wine. Your laptop sat on the coffee table as you edited the photos from the day, constantly being interrupted by one of the guys.

You adjusted your position on the couch, leaning back into the cushions as you sipped your wine. The warmth of the red liquid relaxed you, contrasting with the lively banter between Logan and Oscar. The American was to your right on the couch, his arm resting behind you, just close enough for you to bump into it whenever you moved. Oscar on the other hand was sprawled on the floor, claiming he needed to stretch.

“Hey, can you pause that for a second?” Logan asked, looking over your shoulder. “I wanna see those pics from earlier.”

You looked at the laptop, filled with candid shots from today’s adventures at the track. “Sure.” you said, hitting pause and turning the screen to face him.

Logan leaned in, close enough for you to get a wave of his cologne. “These are sick. We need to get you over to Williams next season”

“Yeah, good luck trying to get Annalese to agree to that” you chuckled

Oscar made his way off of the floor over to the other side of the couch. “You should post that photo of Max going around turn 19. It’s really good”

You smiled at the thought, but still your stomach twisted. It wouldn’t be the first time you posted Max, but you didn’t want the fans to get the wrong idea.

“Yeah, I might” you replied, forcing your focus back to the photos. “I just want to make sure I have the right ones picked out.”

The three of you set back into a comfortable rhythm, sipping wine and tossing comments about the movie. But every time you caught a glimpse of the photos of Max, your mind wandered back to him, and the party you were missing out on.

“Are you alright?” Oscar asked suddenly, catching the shift in your demeanor

You forced a smile, maybe a bit too big to be genuine “Yeah, just thinking about the shots”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, not convinced with your answer “Thinking about Max?”

You sighed, looking down at the photo of the navy blue car, the cursor hovering directly over the cockpit. “Yeah” you sighed “Kind of wishing I went out with them”

“Are we that boring?” Logan asked, his voice dripping in pretend hurt

“Of course not” you said, “Just not everyday you get to celebrate a Grand Prix”

“You’re right, it’s only almost every weekend” Oscar said, your eyes rolling in response

As the movie continued, you tried pushing the thoughts aside and immersing yourself in the present. For now, you could enjoy this night, even if part of your mind was still on Max, hoping he was finding his own way to celebrate.

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of your apartment door jolting. The sound was far from a knock. It was much more demanding, as if the cause was trying to force itself into your place. You exchanged glances with the two boys on your couch before you got up to investigate.

As you approached the door, your heart raced with curiosity. You glanced back at Logan and Oscar, who looked equally as intrigued, their laughter from the movie fading into silence.

You opened the door, just enough to get a peak who was behind it. On the other side stood a disheveled Max. He was slightly out of breath, the unmistakable scent of a party lingered on his lips. His apartment key was in his hand, and his focus on the lock on your door.

“Max,” you spoke, causing the Dutchman to look up, his expression shifting from confusion to recognition. “What are you-”

Before you could finish your sentence, an unmistakable voice filled the hall “Y/n!”

Your head snapped to the source of the voice, your eyes widening as you made eye contact with a certain brunette. The reality of the moment crashed over you as you glanced back at Max, whose focus was now fully on you. The tension in the air was palatable.

“Isabella” you whispered, choosing your next words carefully, a knot forming in your stomach. “What are you doing here?”

“Max invited me over!” she exclaimed, the same intoxicating scent wafting off her tongue. “I didn’t realize you two live together.”

“We don’t” you clarified, trying to keep your voice steady. “I live here. Max lives across the hall. Isn’t that right, Max?”

The tension thickened, his cheeks pink with embarrassment as he slowly processed the mistake, “Right” he agreed, turning to your coworker. “I live right there,” he said, pointing to his own door across the hall.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind you, halting the uncomfortable situation. Max’s eyes widened, taking in the presence behind you as the warmth of a hand rested on your waist.

“Is everything alright?” Logan spoke from behind you, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Yeah” you replied as your tone grew harsher. Your focus was still locked on Max. “Max here just happened to forget which apartment is his. I was just helping him get the correct one. Right Max?”

Max swallowed hard, his gaze moving to the hand resting on your body. “Right” he repeated, turning to Isabella and taking her hand as he stepped back.

As you closed the door, a groan escaped your lips, the frustration finally bubbling to the surface. Logan and Oscar exchanged glances, curious about what just transpired.

“What was that all about?” Oscar asked, now sprawled out on the couch

“Honestly, I have no idea” You sighed, running your hands through your hair in exasperation “It’s like he completely lost his mind”

“Max took home Isabella and thought y/n’s apartment was his” Logan clarified, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Oh” the Aussie said, finally sitting up, a look of realization crossing his face “I guess the good thing about this is that you finally know how he feels?” he suggested, an awkward smile on his face.

Both you and Logan gave Oscar a glare that would wipe out an entire country.

Oscar raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing nervously “Alright, alright. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

======

Sunlight streamed through Max’s curtains signaling that the day was beginning. The night before felt like a distant memory, a surreal blend of laughter and reckless abandon that danced just beyond his grasp. He squinted against the bright light, wincing at the pounding in his head confirmed the reality of it all.

Shifting slightly, Max felt the weight of his body pressing into the sheets, sticky and tangled from the heat of the night. The remnants of conversations echoed in his mind - the mix of playful banter and hints of something deeper. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the night had changed something, but he wasn’t quite ready to piece it together.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, the world spinning slightly as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. He glanced around the room, still a bit disoriented. Photos of races and trophies adorned the walls, reminders of his life as a driver, but it was the incessant buzzing of his phone that caught his attention.

Reaching for it, he noticed the screen lit up with a message. As he unlocked it, confusion flooded his head when he saw Isabella’s name flash across the screen. He had no recollection of her evening giving him her number.

Isabella: Had a great time last night! See you in Spain ;)

Max’s eyes snapped wide as the reality of the night before settled in. The conversation with Lando, the way Isabella had danced, and then the moment he’d invited her back to his place. But more vividly, he recalled you opening the door, the surprise on your face, and Logan’s hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

His heart raced as he pieced together the details. Had he really invited Isabella back to his place after everything that had unfolded? How did the night spiral in ways he never anticipated? What had felt so carefree now felt tangled and complicated.

He shot Isabella a half hearted text saying that he enjoyed the evening too, before setting his phone down, anxiety gnawing at him. Max knew he messed up. Big time. He hadn’t just blurred the lines with Isabella; he’d torched any chance of something real with you

Taking a deep breath, he raked a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the fog. He needed to talk to you, to set everything straight. But how could he explain everything without sounding completely insane? “Hey! I slept with your coworker trying to get over the massive crush I have on you because I think you’re sleeping with Logan.” wouldn’t sit well with you at all.

He thought about going over and knocking on your door to apologize for his actions, but didn’t want to risk running into Logan again. Sending a text seemed too casual for the weight of what he wanted to say.

But then the debate of whether or not he even should say anything crossed his mind. What if you didn’t care? What if you were happily enjoying your relationship? The thought made his stomach churn, the fear of rejection eventually winning him over.

Spielberg, Austria

You had avoided Max in Spain and Canada, dodging him at every turn. Whether it was ducking behind a stack of tires again, or taking the long way around the paddock to avoid walking past the Energy Station, you hadn’t seen Max, and Max hadn’t seen you.

Isabella was harder to avoid, being coworkers after all. Thankfully, she seemed to get the hint that you didn’t want to interact, minding her business and spending most of her time in Carlos’ garage.

It was media day in Austria, and while the drivers were in their briefings and press conferences, you had made yourself comfortable in the Ferrari pit. The buzz of the paddock felt familiar and comforting, a stark contrast to the tangled emotions you had been wrestling with.

The mechanics and engineers moved around you as you sat on your skateboard, using it to glide down the concrete to capture pit stop practice. The sounds of chatter and clanking filled the air, creating a symphony of activity that kept your mind occupied. You snapped photos of the team, capturing the precision and teamwork that made their pitstops efficient.

As you worked, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You looked around, trying to find the culprit, but you wished you hadn’t. Max was in the Red Bull pit, surrounded by a few team members. He looked relaxed, a stark contrast to how you felt.

Your heart raced at the sight of him, and instinct kicked in. You shifted your focus back to your camera, trying to suppress the mixed feelings inside.

“Are you alright, tesoro?” One of the mechanics asked, causing you to jump

You looked up, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just a little distracted.”

“Is Max causing you trouble?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye

You laughed softly, trying to downplay it “You could call it that. Just stupid paddock drama”

The mechanic nodded knowingly, a sympathetic expression on his face. “I know how it is. May I ask what happened?”

You hesitated, weighing your options. What is spoken about in Ferrari usually stays in Ferrari. But it doesn’t help when part of the problem is also in Ferrari.

“It’s complicated” you finally said, glancing back at Max who was too busy yapping to one of his team members to notice you staring. “We were… close, but he took someone home after Monaco that I wasn’t expecting.”

As if on cue, Max bid goodbye to his mechanics, turning towards the Ferrari garages. Your breath caught in your throat, and you quickly looked away, focusing back on your camera. You felt a rush of anxiety wash over you.

“He’s coming this way” the mechanic observed “Maybe he’ll come and say hi”

“Doubt it” you mumbled

Sure enough, the driver walked straight past you and the mechanic, his pace not faltering in the slightest. He stopped in front of Carlos’ garage, a smile grew on his face as he spotted someone inside. Moments later, Isabella emerged from the garage, embracing Max in a hug.

Your stomach twisted as you watched the scene unfold. The warmth of their interaction felt like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t get yourself to turn away. You could feel the mechanic’s gaze shift between you and the unfolding moment, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Looks like they’re close” he said quietly, trying to gauge your reaction

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow “Yeah, you can say that”

Isabella leaned in to say something to Max, his laugh rang out, carefree and easy. Jealousy couldn’t help but bubble up as you recalled his visits to your side of the garage only a season prior. The way he joked with you, the late-night run-ins in the paddock that felt so special. Now it all felt so distant, a ghost of what had been.

“Come on, let’s get you in the car to get some different angles” the mechanic offered, noticing your shift in demeanor “I think there’s a wrench somewhere around here you can throw at him”

Your laugh was genuine for the first time at the thought of knocking out the driver with the metal tool. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.” You said as you stood up from your skateboard.

On the other side of the Ferrari pit, Max opted to give Isabella a chance. He told himself he couldn’t spend the rest of his life waiting around for you, the uncertainty of your feelings pushed him more towards her. Late nights and quick favors between the two of you were just signs of friendship, he reasoned.

Still, he could feel your eyes on him as he talked with Isabella, and it took everything in him not to look over. However, conversation with her felt natural, laughter coming out easily, just as it did with you. Maybe, just maybe, the void you left could be filled.

======

The weekend continued with Max popping up randomly in Carlos’ garage. It irritated you to no extent that you couldn’t predict when he’d appear, giving yourself a taste of what everyone else felt last season. He seemed to have a knack for showing up right when you got into a groove, your focus sharp and your shots framed perfectly.

On Saturday afternoon, you were deep in concentration, capturing the mechanics as they fine-tuned Carlos’ car, when you caught a glimpse of Max out of the corner of your eye. He leaned casually against the wall, chatting with a few of Carlos’ crew members, laughter spilling from his lips. It felt like a dagger to your gut - so effortless, so carefree.

You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on your work. The work you shouldn’t even be doing, but Isabella was MIA. Knowing the content needed to be out sooner rather than later, you stepped in. But now, you were regretting your choices.

With every burst of laughter from Max, your heart sank deeper. You shifted your position, framing a shot of Carlos as he animatedly discussed tire strategy, but your mind kept shifting back to Max. Why did he have to be here, looking so at ease, while you felt like you were drowning in confusion?

“Hey, are you alright?” Annalese appeared beside you, her voice cutting through your spiral of thoughts

You forced a nod, your gaze still locked on Max “Yeah, just doing a little extra work”

At the sound of your voice, Max’s head turned. His eyes met yours, and suddenly you felt like you were going to puke. As quick as he made eye contact, you broke it, turning back to the car in front of you.

“Right. Just work.” Annalease said, raising an eyebrow

You sighed, your next words quieter than before “I just don’t get why he’s here”

Confusion crossed on your boss’s face, “Who? Max?”

“Yeah, I mean Isabella isn’t even here” you added

“What does that have to do with anything?” She asked, genuinely puzzled

You turned your head to look at Annalese, genuine surprise on your face. “No one told you? I thought once it hit the mechanics, they’d be telling everyone”

You recounted the night in Monaco, just quiet enough so the Dutchman wouldn’t hear from the garage entrance. With every added detail, Annalese’s emotions switched from confusion, to anger, then finally settled on pure pity.

“I can’t believe he just waltzed in here after that” Annalese said, her voice low, eyes narrowed at Max as he laughed again with the crew. “That’s… seriously messed up”

You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. “Right? It’s like he thinks he can just pretend everything is fine, that nothing happened.”

“People are complicated” she reminded “But that doesn’t mean he gets a free pass to show up here, especially with Isabella missing. It’s just inconsiderate”

“I’m just trying to get this content done, then going back over to Charles’ side of the garage” you said, frustration peeking through your words “But every time I see him, I lose my focus. It’s like he’s some kind of distraction.”

“Maybe he is” Annalese muttered “But you need to take care of yourself first”

You watched as Max leaned in closer to one of the mechanics, his smile wide and disarming. “Easier said than done,” you muttered. “Every time I look at him, I remember that night. I can’t just turn that off.”

“Then don’t” Annalese’s tone shifted, more supportive now. “Use it. Capture what you’re feeling. It could make for some powerful content.”

“Powerful?” you asked, skepticism creeping in.

“Raw. Real. People want to see the truth behind the glitz and glam of racing. If you’re feeling something, channel that into your work.”

Taking a deep breath, you focused on Carlos again, his passion lighting up the garage. You adjusted your lens, trying to frame the chaos, the energy, the underlying tension. Maybe if you captured that, it would help clear the fog.

But just as you were starting to find your rhythm again, you heard Max’s voice cut through the air, directing some joke at you. His words were quickly replaced by the sound of your camera shutter, capturing the moment between the Dutchman and the Spaniard.

You pressed the playback button, getting a look at what you just shot. The mechanics moving around the garage framed the two drivers in the photo, but what truly caught your eye was the growing tension on Max’s face with each camera click. Looking up from your camera, you could see why.

Logan had joined Max and Carlos, his presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. Logan was usually easy going, getting along with the rest of the grid, but as he talked, you could see Max’s confident demeanor crack just a bit. It was refreshing to see the two time world champion falter, but you couldn’t understand how a rookie was the reason.

======

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Max crossed the finish line far before anyone else. Charles and Logan followed behind, completing the podium. While you were thankful that Charles did well, you weren’t looking forward to seeing Max on the top step for the fifth race in a row.

You trudged over to parc ferme, just as Max was pulling up the car. Thankfully, he was too busy getting out of the car and celebrating with his team to see you with Charles. Clicks of the camera filled the air as Charles got out of the car, throwing up two fingers as he walked over to you, his eyes crinkling through his helmet.

“Congrats!” You said, moving the camera from your face, revealing a grin

“Thank you, thank you.” He replied, embracing you in a quick hug before going to congratulate the other drivers on their finishes.

You snapped a few photos of Charles talking with Logan, both guys animatedly gesturing their experiences on the track. As Charles moved to Max, Logan turned his attention to you, his smile beaming brighter than before.

“Congrats Logan!” you practically yelled as you ran over to your friend

He engulfed you in a bear hug, squeezing you slightly. “Thank you, y/n. I can’t believe it’s the first one”

“First of hopefully many to come” you replied as you separated from him. “You deserve it Logan, you’ve earned it”

You didn’t know Max was watching you as you continued your conversation with Logan. He didn’t want you to know he analyzed every inch of your face as your emotions changed. He didn’t want you to know that you had the same look on your face that you did in the hotel in Baku. He didn’t want you to know that he knew that you were in love with Logan.

You glanced over your shoulder, checking to see if Charles was doing anything photo worthy, only to get a glimpse of Max with his team. He had his eyes on you already, the look in his eye sent a mix of confusion and annoyance through you. He shouldn’t be looking. His fling was twenty feet away in the other direction, also donning Ferrari red.

Thankfully, the three drivers were forced through the post race interviews and to the cooldown room before you snapped on Max for staring. You found yourself a spot under the podium, perfect for capturing photos of your two friends as they celebrated. Isabella squeezed in to your left, a lovestruck smile on her face.

“Good race, wasn’t it?” you spoke, trying to be as friendly as you could

She nodded enthusiastically, impatiently waiting for the Dutchman to come out. “Absolutely! I mean he just dominated out there!”

You nodded, unsure of what to say in response. Annalese was to your right, giving you someone else to talk to as you waited. The two of you chatted for a bit until you lifted your camera again, getting shots of Logan and Charles as they walked out.

Letting Isabella stand next to you was a bad idea. The second Max walked out, his eyes were glued in your direction. You knew he was looking at her. There was no doubt about that. But for him to get all smiley and crinkly eyed while looking near you? It made you sick.

“Can they just play the damn song and move on?” You muttered to Annalese, causing her to burst out in laughter during the trophy presentation.

“You’ll be back in your hotel soon, don’t worry” Annalese reassured

Marina Bay, Singapore

It was no secret that Carlos was having a hell of a weekend. He already topped the free practice sessions, and took pole position, which sent excitement rippling through the Ferrari garage. The energy in the air was palpable with hope and anticipation as the team prepared for the race.

So far, most of your weekend was spent running back and forth between the two red terminals, much to your dismay. Coming into the weekend, you were under the impression you would only be with Charles, but a certain brunette went missing for randomly long periods of time yet again.

“Have you seen Isabella?” Annalese asked as she walked into Carlos’ garage

“If I did, do you think I’d be here?” You retorted, not breaking your concentration on the shot you lined up. Carlos was in deep conversation with his engineers, the intensity of the moment reflected in his face.

You didn’t have to look to know Annalese rolled her eyes “Fair point. Do you know where she’s been? This is the third time today.”

“My money is Red Bull” you answered “Y’know, with the two of them sucking each other’s faces off for the past few months.”

Annalese chuckled, shaking her head “I did not need that image in my head. But she needs to get her act together. I can’t have one of my photographers slacking and spending time in a rival garage.”

“Tell that to her, not me” you muttered, turning your attention back to Carlos, who was now finishing up with his team.

“Yeah, you’re at least quick with your trips down to Williams”

Once again, you tore your focus from your camera to focus on your boss. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in her words. “What do you mean? I’m rarely down there.”

It was Annalese’s turn to be confused “Oh I thought with you and Logan-.”

“What? Oh no. Logan and I aren’t - we’re just good friends” you clarified

“Oh, my bad. I’ve seen you and Logan together a lot recently. I thought something was starting” Annalese apologized.

“You’re all good. But after everything with Max, I think I’ve sworn off liking drivers” you said “They’re too much for me.”

“Fair enough” Annalese replied, her tone turning more serious as she watched Carlos. “Just keep an eye on Isabella. If she’s going to be absent, I need to know so I can plan accordingly. Carlos’ photos aren’t your responsibility.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out for her” you said

As the sunset in the sky and the race drew nearer, the energy in both of the Ferrari garages grew. You were in Charles’ garage, capturing the last moments before the cars went out on track. Just as you were about to make your way out to the track, you noticed Isabella finally striding in, a flustered look on her face.

“Look what the cat dragged in” you called, getting Isabella’s attention. “Where have you been?”

“Long story, but I got some great shots in the Red Bull garage” she replied, slightly out of breath and a sheepish grin forming on her face.

It took every bone in your body not to storm down to the Red Bull garages and give Max a piece of your mind then and there. Instead, you pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind. There was a job to be done.

You exchanged a look with Annalese, who raised an eyebrow. “Alright, just don’t let it happen again.” she said “We need all hands on deck everyday.”

“Trust me, it won’t.” Isabella assured, her tone more serious now. “I won’t get distracted again”

Isabella made her way to the back of the garage, presumably to change out her SD cards. As you watched, you couldn’t help but wonder what caused the sudden shift. And you wouldn’t be surprised if Max was somehow linked to it.

======

As everyone hoped, Carlos ended up on the top step of the podium, completing his weekend sweep. Everyone in red was on cloud nine, and for the first time since Azerbaijan, you didn’t hear your country’s national anthem.

The celebrations in the paddock were long done for the day as you made your way out of the Ferrari motorhome. You didn’t wrap up until late into the night, so you were expecting to be the only one still left, but to your surprise, a familiar Dutchman was also still around.

You don’t know if it was the amount of champagne you accidentally ingested during the celebrations, or if it was Isabella’s actions earlier, but something within you caused you to speak.

“Fancy seeing you here” you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the swirl of emotions inside you. Max was leaning against the wall of the Energy Station, a bottle of water in hand, looking at something on his phone.

He glanced up, surprise flashing across his face for a second before returning to his normal indifferent stare. “Hey. Congrats on the win”

Your eyebrows furrowed in fake confusion as you stopped next to him “What did I win? I just took photos”

“You know what I mean” Max mumbled, rolling his eyes, though a small smirk formed on his lips “But Carlos looked really strong, he deserved the win, and the celebration.”

“Oh he’s getting every bit of celebration he can. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard Smooth Operator today” you chuckled, the memory of the Spaniard dancing to the music replaying in your head.

Awkward tension hung in the air, neither of you sure what to say next. You looked around the dim paddock, for any idea of a talking point. It wasn’t until you noticed the darkness in the Energy Station that you spoke again. “What’re you even still doing here?”

“Just unwinding after a long day. Needed the extra time to get out. You know how exhausting this track is” he explained, but by the way he was fiddling with his bottle and refusing to make eye contact, you knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with him, a swirl of suspicion and hurt forming in your chest. “You’re waiting for Isabella aren’t you?”

Max paused, his gaze darting away for a moment before meeting your eyes again “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m specifically waiting for her,” he said, but the slight hesitation in his voice gave it away.

“You know I’m not as dumb as I look, right?” you asked, a small smile forced onto your lips “I know you two are together. I’m happy for you, you deserve it” Your stomach churned as you spoke. Each word felt like a knife twisting deeper, but you couldn’t let him see how much it hurt.

Max’s expression shifted, gratitude and relief mingling in his eyes, only deeping the pain. “Thanks. It’s nice to hear that”

“But you better not steal her from Ferrari any more, Annalese might have your head on a spike” you joked, but a warning tone lingered underneath. Max chuckled slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained.

“Well she’s an adult, she can make her own decisions” Max shrugged, a hint of definane in his tone, seemingly indifferent to the fact that she only has access to the paddock because of her job.

You crossed your arms as you spoke. “An adult who is employed. She needs to do her job” you countered, your voice firm yet wavering slightly, desperate for him to understand the reality of the situation.

“Oh like you do your job all the time” Max shot back, rolling his eyes with a smirk that felt more like a jab “I’ve seen you running around a lot with Logan. Seems like you have a type.”

Your heart raced, confusion mixing with anger, “Max, what are you talking abou-”

“Don’t play dumb” he interrupted, his expression hardening as the tension grew dramatically “Everyone sees how you act around him.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his words, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flooding through you. “I’m not playing dumb” you shot back, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Logan and I are friends. It’s not my fault he’s actually nice to be around”

“Nice, huh?” Max raised an eyebrow, though his eyes were red with anger “He’s giving you something nice, for sure”

“Are you serious?” you asked, exasperated “You’re really going to stand there and accuse me of sleeping with one of my best friends?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything” he replied, an indifferent mask suddenly plastered on his face, a clear facade that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just saying you get close to drivers in a way that makes people talk.”

“And it’s just that, Max. It’s just talk. The same stupid rumors that were flown around when you and I were close friends. The same stupid rumors that meant absolutely nothing, because it was just nothing.” you bit back, your voice rising in frustration.

“So you’re saying it’s still nothing?” Max challenged, his tone sharp “You really thought people wouldn’t notice just how cozy you and Logan are? You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Maybe I don’t need to fool anyone” you snapped, pure adrenaline fueling your words “Maybe I’m more comfortable in my friendships with drivers than you are in your relationship with a Ferrari photographer who happens to look like me.”

Max’s expression darkened at your words, a mix of anger and hurt flashing across his face. “That’s low,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

“Weird, isn’t it? Facing the truth” you said, your voice steadier than you felt, trying to anchor yourself amongst the rising tension.

You took a step away from Max, and then another. The space between you felt charged, like a wire ready to snap. You didn’t want to back down, but your words lingered, creating a chasm between you.

Max’s eyes darted around your face, looking for any signs of an emotion other than anger, only stopping when he saw your lips. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in and kiss you. He wanted to tell you that you were all that he wanted, and no one could ever come close.

But he couldn’t. He was waiting for Isabella.

And you almost wanted it too. You almost wanted him to tell you Isabella meant nothing. That it was all just some silly plan to try and get over you. You almost wanted him to confess he had been madly in love with you since you first reconnected last year.

But he wouldn’t. He was waiting for Isabella.

So, you turned any longing you had left into anger. Your fists clenched, dying to take a swing at the man in front of you. You wanted to show just how much pain he caused you through his actions, through his words.

But you shouldn’t. You would lose your job if you did.

And so, you walked away. You unclenched your fist, and walked away. Each step echoed the unresolved mess. The night air was cool against your skin, but inside, there was a mixture of liberation and lingering frustration. Though you said what needed to be said, the ache of unspoken feelings still hung in the air, heavy in your chest as you left him behind.

Austin, USA

The events of the Japan and Qatar Grand Prixs were nearly identical: Charles qualifying within the top five, having a strong start, a poor strategy messing up his race, and hearing the Dutch National Anthem in the distance. It didn’t help that to top it all off, Red Bull had secured the Constructors Championship and Max had secured the Driver’s Championship with ease. The team needed a morale booster, and Austin was the place to try and do it.

“I feel absolutely ridiculous” you said as you stood in the paddock entrance, waiting to capture Charles’ arrival for media day.

He had convinced you to go all out with him and dress up for media day. Your hair was folded into two braids, and a cowboy hat rested on your head. A red bandana was tied around your neck, matching the bright red Ferrari polo that was hiding under your jean jacket. You glanced at yourself in the reflection of a nearby window, half-amused and half-embarrassed.

“What’re you talking about? You look amazing” Annalese teased “You fit in with the locals”

Your eyes scanned the area, only to find absolutely no one dressed like you. “Yeah, because the locals are dressed like a walking cliche” you muttered

“Okay you don’t look that ridiculous” she said “Plus, Charles definitely needs the boost”

As if on cue, you heard the beep of a paddock pass being scanned. Looking to the gates, Charles was walking through the turnstiles, donning a black cowboy hat, black bandana, and dark blue jean jacket.

“There’s my partner in crime!” He called as you captured a few photos of him walking up to you, a goofy grin plastered on his face. “You look amazing”

“Thanks” you replied, slight embarrassment still in your voice “I do feel a bit silly”

“At least you’re not the one in front of the camera” Charles chuckled.

Annalese and yourself walked with Charles down the paddock towards the media areas. To no surprise, all eyes were on the driver as he walked with such confidence. Fans and staff alike had their attention on Charles. Thankfully, any worry about looking ridiculous washed away as the three of you joked your way through the paddock.

After a quick stop in the Ferrari motorhome, the three of you finally made it to the media pen. A few of the other drivers were already there, including the Alpine boys, and Max. For it being early in the morning, the atmosphere was lively, as reporters were prepping their questions.

You and Annalese hung towards the back of the pen, being sure not to get in any of the drivers' ways as they approached the barriers. As Charles and Max talked to the media, you watched intently, each of the boys differed with how they answered the long list of questions.

Charles, as always, had an easygoing charm, answering each question with a relaxed but thoughtful demeanor. He was clearly comfortable in the media spotlight, using humor to deflect some of the tougher questions while staying focused on the bigger picture for Ferrari.

Across the pen was Max, who was standing a little more rigidly, with his arms crossed, answering questions with that signature confidence that was almost always tinged with a bit of confidence. Even though both championships were already on lock, there was no sign of complacency in his posture.

A reporter threw him a question about the team’s performance, and Max’s response was sharp and succinct. “We’ve done what we’ve needed to do this season. It’s been a solid year, and I’m happy with the results. But we’re always looking to improve, even when things are going well.”

His tone was calm, but there was an underlying intensity that you knew too well. Sure, you had heard it time and time again in his interviews, but it was also the same intensity you heard in Singapore. It was the same bitterness and anger that was bubbling under the surface.

Max knew you were mere feet behind him. He knew you could hear every single word he was saying. He knew you dressed in that stupid little cowgirl outfit so Charles wouldn’t be the only one in the paddock looking ridiculous, but god did you pull it off.

As his interview wrapped up, you saw how Max’s eyes flickered danced around the room scanning it before landing on you. There was a slight glint in his eyes, almost telling that he was aware of everything - the outfit, the mood, the tension, and maybe even the unspoken distance between you two. And when his gaze met yours, the glint disappeared. There was no warmth, no acknowledgement - just a cold, unreadable look.

You shifted your feet, suddenly very aware of the hat perched on your head and the bandana around your neck. You’d done this for Charles. Just for Charles.

“Everything alright?” Annalese asked, noticing your stiff posture. You hadn’t realized you’d tensed up until she spoke.

“Yeah, just Max is… being Max.” You didn’t elaborate. There wasn’t much else to say.

Max was always intense with the media, but today it felt like something else - something deeper than just the team. Maybe it was the contrast between his icy exterior and the warmth of Charles, or maybe it was his sheer competitiveness, which never seemed to wane. But it felt almost like he was throwing down a silent challenge.

Annalese raised an eyebrow, “Max still has a way of making everything seem personal, huh?”

“Yeah” you couldn’t seem to hide the bitterness in your voice. Personal wasn’t the word you would have chosen, but it was close enough. The fact that he could unsettle you with a glance, that he could turn something as simple as an interview into a moment of quiet conflict, was maddening.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Charles was finishing up his own interview now, his easygoing smile still in place, though you could see the familiar exhaustion behind it. When you first started with the team, you would be shocked at how tired he got after each interview. But now that you’ve been here for a while, you couldn’t go a day without seeing it.

“Ready to get out of here?” Charles asked, walking over with a lighthearted air, completely oblivious to the tension that seemed to hang around.

“Absolutely” you gave him a quick smile, happy to leave the heavy atmosphere of the media pen behind. But even as you turned to walk with him, a part of you lingered on Max’s last words. We’re always looking to improve, even when things are going well.

======

You honestly weren’t sure how it happened. You were minding your business in the Ferrari motorhome, editing your content from media day when Annalese approached you, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She knew something you didn’t, and you were about to find out, whether you liked it or not.

“Hey, you free for a second?” she asked, leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, the usual casual confidence about her.

You looked up from your laptop, blinking a few times as you tried to piece together whether she was being serious or just teasing. “Sure, what’s up?”

She raised an eyebrow, then glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one else was nearby. “So, you’re familiar with Drive to Survive, right?”

“The Netflix show? Yeah. What about it?” you asked, sitting up a little bit more.

Annalese smirked “Well, they’re filming the weekend in Austin. They’ve been bouncing around the teams trying to get some sort of exciting story line.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what she was getting at “What does that have to do with me?”

“After talking with a few of us, they learned you do a lot of behind the scenes footage and are good friends with a handful of the guys” she explained “And they were wondering if you’d be willing to be followed around and interviewed for a bit.

You blinked a few times, trying to process what Annalese was saying. “They want me to be on camera?”

She gave you a knowing look, her smirk widening. “Yep. They’re apparently looking for someone with your kind of insight - someone who isn’t just a part of the circus but actually gets the day-to-day stuff. And since you’re always with the drivers and the team, it seemed like a good fit. Plus your following is going to help boost their viewers.”

“And you think this is a good idea?” you asked cautiously, trying to get a read on her expression. “What if it all blows up in my face? Or what if it messes up my work?”

Annalese leaned forward slightly, her expression softening, more earnest now. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot. But think about it. You know I wouldn’t push you into something if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

You hesitated for a long moment, lingering on Annalese’s words. Finally, you let out a deep sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it. But if this all goes to hell, I’m blaming you.”

And that’s how you found yourself sitting in a room in the bowels of the paddock, away from the normal hustle and bustle of the morning of qualifying. You were the only one in a team’s gear, everyone else around you had their clothes embroidered with Netflix, leaving you to be the odd one out.

The lights were bright, and the crew around you looked more prepared for a Hollywood film than a race weekend in Austin. One of the producers had mic’d you up, and was sitting on the other side of the camera from you.

“Okay, y/n. Just state your name, and your role with the team please” She said, a warm smile on her face

“Should I look at you, or look at the camera when I talk?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing

“Looking at me is perfectly fine” She answered

You nodded, shifting slightly in your seat to try and relax, though the sensation of being under the spotlight was unmistakable. This was real. You were being filmed. There was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes locked on the producer. “I’m y/n l/n, and I’m a photographer and content creator for Scuderia Ferrari. I also do personal content creation on the side.”

The producer gave you a quick thumbs up, and gestured for you to keep going. “Great! Now, just tell us a little bit about your role in the paddock and what a typical weekend looks like for you.”

You thought for a moment before speaking. You walked the producer through your day to day life as best as you could, as no weekend was truly the same. Being a team player and focusing on getting the best shots rolled off your tongue. The more you talked, the more relaxed you got.

The producer seemed to notice, as her smile grew a bit bigger. “Sounds like you’ve got a good handle on it. So, you’re clearly around the drivers a lot. What’s your relationship like with them?”

You couldn’t help but glance at the camera, knowing it would probably capture the slight shift in your expression. Talking about the drivers was… complicated. Max especially. He was still fresh in your mind, after everything that’s happened over the course of the last season and a half. You could feel the familiar unease bubble up, but you kept your tone even.

“Well, I’m lucky enough to work with a few of them closely. Obviously, I spend a lot of time with Charles and Carlos. Charles especially out of the two - he’s always easy to talk to, a real pro, and I think we’ve got a good understanding of how to work together. I’m not in Carlos’ garage as much, but every time I’ve been with him or working with him, he’s been lovely. Both of the guys are real team players.”

The interview continued as you talked about the highs and lows of Formula 1. You rambled about the trials and tribulations of your job, but how they’re all worth it in the long run. The producer asked a little bit about your own personal content creation, and how you’ve been able to get an audience of girls interested and involved in motorsports.

The producer then glanced toward the camera crew, signaling that she was ready for the next phase of filming. “Alright, y/n, you’re doing great. We’re going to switch gears now and get a bit more personal. Is that alright?”

You nodded, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed your mind. Personal? What did she mean by that?

“Of course, what do you need?” you asked, trying to sound relaxed.

The producer tilted her head thoughtfully. “We’ve heard some rumors - nothing too crazy - but we’d love to get your thoughts on what it’s like to be close to the drivers, especially in such a high-stakes environment. How do you manage those relationships?”

A little caught off guard, you instinctively glanced toward the camera before responding, your voice a bit steadier than you felt inside. “I think it’s a balancing act. You want to remain professional, but at the same time, you’re still human. You get to know these guys, you become part of their routine. You seem them under pressure, stressed out, and sometimes you’re right there in the middle of it all.” You paused, letting your thoughts settle. “The pressure can definitely build up. But that’s why it’s important to have boundaries. They’re still my friends, but I’ve got to keep that line between being a colleague and a friend.”

The producer’s eyes glinted, clearly recognizing the deeper meaning in your words. “Sounds like there’s a lot of emotional juggling involved. Does any of it change when you factor in your relationship with Max?”

The question hung in the air like a weight, and you immediately felt your stomach tighten. The last thing you wanted to do was delve into anything personal about Max. It had been a complicated relationship - sometimes friendly, sometimes strained. Right now, you weren’t even sure if you had a relationship with the man. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like there was anything more there than what everyone already saw on the surface.

You took a deep breath, hoping to keep your composure. “Max… well, Max is an interesting case. He’s always been intense. He’s been that way since grade school. Everything’s always full throttle, all the time - whether it’s racing or his personal life. That kind of energy, that drive, it’s both impressive and a little exhausting. But that’s Max. And I get it, I do. I respect it, even if it’s a bit much at times.”

Part of you knew you had to put on a facade while talking about Max. The world couldn’t know the shitshow that was truly hiding behind the scenes. But the other part of you didn’t need to fake it. Even though you wanted to kick Max into the next dimension, you still had such a respect for him.

The producer jotted down a few notes, clearly intrigued. A smirk then danced on her face as he looked up from her paper, and you knew you were in for something.

“Is it harder to separate the personal and professional sides of your relationship with Max, especially with the public watching?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. It felt like the room had just gotten a little bit smaller. The public always wanted something - something they could latch onto, something they could analyze - and Max and yourself were prime targets. The last thing you wanted was to give them any more ammunition.

“I mean there’s definitely noise from the outside - fans, media - everyone has an opinion. And sometimes it’s hard not to let that affect you. So I don’t think it’s harder to separate it with Max, but rather different. With him now being a three time World Champion and to know him so long, it always feels like the whole world is watching every interaction. But at the end of the day, he’s still a Formula 1 driver, and I’m still a photographer. Everyone here is just someone doing their job, and no matter how much the world watches, I have to only focus on what I can control.”

The smirk on the producer’s lips turned into a genuine smile, clearly satisfied with your response. However, her eyes flickered with something else - a sense of realization. She jotted down another note and nodded thoughtfully.

“Alright, I think that gives us a solid idea of where things stand. We’ll be capturing some more dynamics in the paddock, but I really appreciate your openness today, y/n. You handled the interview like a pro. We’ll catch up with you later today and tomorrow to film a bit of you in action.”

You exhaled slowly, glad the conversation had taken a turn away from the more personal aspects. As much as you valued your relationships with all of the drivers, it wasn’t something you were keen on oversharing, especially not in front of the cameras, and especially not about Max.

As you left the room, you felt a slight sense of relief washed over you. The interview was over. The questions had been answered. But something about that last exchange - about Max - lingered in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if you managed to keep the mask in place completely, but you hoped the world would see it as nothing more than professional boundaries being drawn, not an ongoing emotional tug-of-war.

Doubts quickly swirled in your mind as you walked. Were the boundaries that you set good enough? Was it a mistake to even mention them? Why did everything always have to come back to Max?

There was only one person in the paddock that could soothe your uncertainties. Only one person who knew exactly what to say to make you feel at least a bit better. You made a quick detour past the Ferrari motorhome, your eyes scanning for a certain driver in blue. When you caught sight of him, you darted towards him.

“I’m not taking advantage of you, am I?”

Logan’s head whipped around when he heard your voice, confusion plastered on his face. He blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden appearance and the directness of your question. For a moment, he stood frozen, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what you’d just said.

“Wait, what?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and concern. “What’re you talking about?”

You ran a hand through your hair, wanting to explain yourself without sounding like a total mess. “I just - look. I just finished that interview, and they asked me some stuff about Max, and now I’m spiraling a bit. It’s complicated… you know? The whole thing. And there’s this weird pressure, like I’m walking a fine line, and I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. So I-”

Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile that calmed you more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not making any sense, but I’m guessing you’re worried what people are going to think, and that Max is going to go ape shit on you again, right?” he said softly, his tone light, but understanding.

You exhaled deeply, “Yeah. I- they asked about Max and I wasn’t prepared for it, and it’s just hard to explain anything without it sounding more personal than it is. I don’t want to give the impression that there’s anything more between us, especially with him and Isabella being a thing or whatever.”

Logan’s expression softened. “Y/n. We both know how the media can twist things, especially with a guy like Max, but I can guarantee you’re not doing anything to give the idea that there’s more than just two people doing their jobs. You’re doing a better job at keeping everything with him private than most.” he said, his voice almost hinting at something.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confusion now filtering in your tone

“You mean you didn’t see what she posted earlier?” Logan asked, slightly amused

“Logan, I was just in a dark room getting interrogated for forty minutes. I haven’t seen anything.” you reminded him.

He pulled out his phone, tapping on Instagram and finding Isabella's profile. A few months ago, he had mentioned she followed him almost immediately after meeting him in Bahrain. He eventually turned the screen toward you, where a photo of Isabella chatting with Sophie and Jos was posted on her story.

“No way” you finally got out, disbelief dripped in your words. “Catching up with the best!” you read off of the screen.

“Yep. She’s really not shy about it.” Logan replied

Your fingers rubbed against your forehead, trying to process everything that was going on. “I swear she never ceases to amaze me.”

“Right?” he agreed, glancing at his phone once again to check the time. “I’m so sorry but I need to get to the garage before qualifying starts”

You nodded, knowing damn well you should have been in yours about five minutes ago. “All good. I’ll see you around.”

“Oh we'll be texting each other the second the session is done” he chuckled, though you knew he wasn’t kidding “If you ever need to vent, let me know. You know where to find me.”

With one final hug, Logan turned back towards the paddock, making his way to Williams. You watched him go for a moment, feeling strangely grounded, before you continued on your way.

And Logan was right. When qualifying ended, his name was the first one to pop up on your phone.

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The triple header in the Americas could not have gone any worse for Charles. A P3 finish fell between a disqualification and failing to start, but it didn’t come without damage to the car. It was safe to say that Ferrari, along with a few of the other drivers, welcomed the short break before going to Las Vegas.

Thankfully, you hadn’t run into Max and Isabella during the time off. According to her social media, they had also flown back to Monaco for a bit, before they jetted off to Spain. That was fine by you, the further away, the lower the chance for you to see them.

Yourself, along with Logan, Oscar, Alex, Pierre, Alexandra and Kika were in Charles and Alexandra’s apartment. The eight of you often found yourselves there, with most of you living in Monaco already, and Logan and Oscar happy to make the short flight from the UK. Multiple bottles of various alcohols had already been cracked open, and the remnants of beer cans were scattered around.

Charles and Alexandra had made themselves comfortable on their couch, with Alexandra’s hand placed gently on her boyfriend’s thigh. Pierre and Kika were on the loveseat, with Kika playfully tossing her empty seltzer can at Pierre, the aluminum hitting him square in the face. Oscar and Alex were in the kitchen, trying to find another bottle of something to open.

Too many drinks later, you found yourself sitting on the floor, tucked against Logan. The arm that didn’t have a bottle of Corona attached to it was lazily draped over your shoulder while you were nursing the bottom of a seltzer can. You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but at some point in the evening you had ended up close to him, his side pressed against yours as you both lounged on the floor in the middle of the action.

Logan’s fingers traced the fabric of your shirt as he tilted his head back, watching the others with a half-smile. For the first time in a long time, everything felt…easy. You could feel the weight of everything that had been building up in your mind, the endless questions about boundaries and relationships, the complexities of being so close to this world, and yet trying to stay on the sidelines. For the first time in a while, you weren’t worrying about any of it.

“Are you trying to hypnotize me with your fingers, or is that just how you relax?” you asked lightly, breaking the quiet tension.

Logan’s eyes flicked down to you, and for a split second, you could see the amusement in his gaze before he shrugged, a lazy smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe both” he teased, his thumb moving slightly to catch a stray lock of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes, but the soft blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I don’t know about hypnotizing, but it’s definitely… distracting” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned back slightly, pulling you closer without a second thought. His body was warm next to yours, his presence now inescapable as his arm tightened slightly around you. “I’ll take that as a compliment” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something else - something unspoken, something that lingered between you in the air, neither of you quite acknowledging it fully.

From across the room, you could hear Oscar and Alex laughing about something in the kitchen, their voices rising above the clinking of glass and the low chatter. Pierre and Kika were now in the middle of an exaggerated argument over who ate the last potato chip in the bag. Charles and Alexandra were in hushed conversation as their eyes glanced at the movie playing on the TV.

You knew Logan. Knew the easygoing confidence that he wore like a second skin. And still, there was something different about the way he was acting tonight Something that made you feel a little unsure. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the other way around. Perhaps it wasn’t him that had changed, but you, starting to notice the things you’d pushed aside for far too long.

Logan’s chuckle seemed to vibrate through you, warm and low, a sound you could feel more than hear. His voice broke the calm tension again, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re being quiet now. That’s not like you.”

You shifted a little, suddenly aware of the limited space between you, of how easy it was to let the moment carry on. “Just thinking” you muttered, trying to keep the conversation light, to keep things from tipping into something more serious.

“About what?” His voice was softer now, more curious than teasing. He didn’t let his arm move away from your shoulder, not yet, like it was the easiest thing in the world to have you close.

You hesitated. You could feel the question pushing down on you, the debate of how much of your inner world you were willing to share right now. Was it too soon? Or was it that Logan, of all people, made it easier to be honest than you’d ever let yourself be?

“It’s just…” you sighed, running a hand through your hair, feeling slightly embarrassed for not letting go of everything, like you usually would when it came to Max. But maybe that was the problem. You weren’t with Max right now. “I’m not sure anymore… where I stand with all of this. With… well, everything”

Logan paid close attention, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced with something more attuned, more patient. His gaze was softer than it had been before. “You mean with Max? And everything that’s been happening with him and Isabella?”

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the can in your hands, unwilling to meet his gaze just yet. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m caught in the middle of something I never asked to be a part of.” you admitted

Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, but you could see the gears turning behind his eyes. His thumb brushed against your skin again, the contact reassuring, grounding. “You’re not caught in the middle. You just care too much about things that aren’t yours to fix.” His tone was gentle, but there was something firm underneath it, like he was trying to make sure you understood. “You don’t have to be the one who sorts everything out. Sometimes things just… unfold on their own.”

You glanced up at him then, unsure of what you were expecting, but the steadiness of his gaze made you feel lighter somehow. Like maybe he had a point.

The sound of glass clanking and a chorus of yells brought you back to reality. You and Logan were the only ones left in the living room, as the other four joined Oscar and Alex in the kitchen.

“I feel like we should go check that out,” you said, standing up from the floor.

Logan agreed, and the two of you made your way into the kitchen. When you stepped inside, the scene in front of you was just as chaotic as you expected. Oscar was holding up a bottle of tequila triumphantly, while Alex and Pierre were in the midst of arguing about if the liquor was “actually drinkable”. Charles was going through his cabinets, trying to find something as Kika and Alexandra were to the side, laughing as they shook their heads.

You approached the counter, with Logan following suit. As you rested yourself against the cool granite, you felt the warmth of Logan’s body against your back and one of his hands resting on your waist. Kika and Alexandra exchanged glances before raising their eyebrows at you. In response, you shrugged, not wanting to draw any more attention to the driver that was glued to you.

However, the girls would not let it go. As Logan got wrapped up in the boy’s shenanigans, Kika and Alexandra pulled you into one of the guest rooms.

“What is going on?” Kika asked, a drunken giggle coming out of her mouth.

You blinked as the door clicked shut behind you, a momentary wave of confusion sweeping over you. The two girls were leaning against the wall, Kika trying to look serious, but her grin betraying her, while Alexandra simply raised an eyebrow in a knowing way.

“Honestly, I-” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You weren’t exactly sure what you should be saying. It wasn’t like anything happened with Logan - well not yet, anyway - but it felt like there was this subtle undercurrent between you that both Kika and Alexandra were so clearly picking up on.

“Don’t even try to play innocent” Kika giggled, her voice slurring just a little from the drinks she’d had, but her eyes were sharp. “We’ve been watching you two all night.”

You glanced at Alexandra, whose arms were crossed but a soft smirk tugged at her lips. “I don’t know what you mean.” you said, though you could feel your face heating up.

Alexandra wasn’t buying it “Uh-huh. You’re both acting like it’s just another casual hangout, but since when do you two sit that close?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Kika cut you off with a playful wave of her hand “Don’t try to play the ‘I don’t know’ card. We’re not blind.” She paused, her eyes narrowing with a mischievous twinkle. “So… what’s the deal? Something’s happening isn’t it?”

Your stomach twisted slightly at the question. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest a little harder now. Of course, it wasn’t just the alcohol that had made everything feel easier tonight - it was Logan, too. But did that mean anything?

“Nothing’s happened.” you said carefully “We’ve just been hanging out. That’s it”

“Yeah right” Alexandra said, her smirk widening. “You know, you could tell us the truth. You two are practically glued together.”

“It’s just easy with him” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “There’s no…pressure, you know? It just feels like… like it should be this way.”

Kika tilted her head, her expression more thoughtful now, her drunk giggles gone for the moment. “So you are into him?”

You felt your face heat up again. It wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for it, but it seemed like the only way to answer. “I don’t know, honestly. But I guess there’s something about him that’s… different. Makes everything feel easy.” you ran a hand through your hair nervously. “But I’m just not sure where I stand with everything else right now.”

Alexandra stepped forward, her expression shifted to something more serious. “I get it. You’re trying to figure out if what you’re feeling is real, or if it’s just the situation.” She paused, her gaze soft but intense “You deserve to explore this with him, without holding back. You’ve been in that… other situation with Max for so long, but maybe it’s time to let someone else in.”

At the mention of his name, you froze. You were instantly transported back to Singapore, that night in the paddock. Seems like you have a type.

“Don’t you think I’m jumping into something too soon?” you mumbled, suddenly becoming well aware of your hands and the way they fidgeted.

Kika caught your eye, and her expression softened “No one’s saying you need to rush into anything, but it’s okay to let yourself breathe. You’ve been wrapped up in that for too long.” She said, the words shared an understanding. Like they were burdens you were trying to carry, but time to let go of.

Alexandra leaned in a little, her voice softer now. “Sometimes moments happen when you’re not trying to force them. Just let yourself see where it goes. With him.”

Barcelona, Spain

The cool Barcelona air hit Max as soon as he made his way out to the balcony of his hotel room. It was a welcome change from the stuffy, heated atmosphere inside, the weight of the day lifting as the wind brushed past his face. The city lights flickered beneath him, painting the streets below with the soft glow of late-night life.

Isabella had already gone to bed. She had been with him all evening, talking, her hand resting casually on his arm, full attention on him. She had been sweet, supportive, asking how his day went, listening attentively to his thoughts. But despite her presence, despite the affection she had shown, Max felt… disconnected. His interactions with her were starting to feel more like a routine more than anything real. Like he had fallen into a rhythm that wasn’t his own.

Max wasn’t a stranger to the demands of his relationship. He’d always known Isabella liked to be close, ever since she started popping up in the Red Bull garage, looking for him. But tonight, something about it felt stifling. The worst part was that he didn’t know why. She was everything he had once wanted in a partner - supportive, loyal, there when he needed her. And yet, he stood alone on the balcony in the middle of the night, all he felt was nothing.

Leaning against the railing, he exhaled a long breath, watching the way the lights of the city seemed to pulse and breathe along with him. But even as the quiet of the night settled in, there was a different kind of noise inside his head. It wasn’t just about Isabella, but about you. The way things had ended in Singapore - the words he had said, the way you had walked away.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. Max wasn’t sure what he was hoping for anymore, but his thumb tapped through his apps, aimlessly landing on Instagram.

His mind flashed back to Singapore again. The heat of the moment, the exchange of glances, the accusations that had been thrown with no proof. Then that moment when you walked away.

Max knew that wasn’t how he wanted things to end. Far from it. He wasn’t good with emotions, he never had been, especially when it came to you. But that wasn’t an excuse. He hadn’t been fair to you.

He scrolled through his feed absently, his thumb moving without purpose, until he saw a recent post. It was a photo of you - captured in a candid moment, a shot from Brazil. You were laughing with some of the Ferrari mechanics, and even from a distance, the warmth of your eyes was unmistakable.

It was stupid, he knew. But just seeing it made him ache. He hadn’t meant to go this far. He hadn’t planned on checking up on you. But the post was like a pull - a reminder of something he didn’t want to forget.

Max tapped the photo, noticing an account was tagged. y/nl/n.jpeg. He knew Lando and Daniel had accounts with similar names, so he tapped. A small part of him almost hoped he wouldn’t find anything. That somehow it would lead to a dead end. But instead, your profile opened in front of him, fun and captivating, just like you.

The profile picture was you standing on the track in Monaco, your camera in your hand, a confident smirk on your face. Max had seen that smile plenty of times before, felt its warmth, and he realized with a sharp pang in his chest that he missed it. He missed you - the way everything was so easy with you, how he didn’t need to hold anything back.

He scrolled through the feed, quickly realizing this wasn’t the same account as your personal one. Photos from races around the world, photos that you had taken, were posted. Your face was nowhere to be found, it was only how your lens viewed the world.

There were photos of sunsets over the racetracks, candid shots of teammates laughing in the paddock, and even pictures of fans in the stands, their faces alight with excitement. He couldn’t help but smile at how well you captured these moments. It was clear you were more than just a bystander; you were present in a way that only someone who truly understood the sport could be.

He tapped on a picture of a sunset from Austin - one of the most stunning shots Max had ever seen of the Texas sky turning orange and purple, Charles’ car streaking across the horizon. The image was perfectly composed, the light bleeding into the asphalt, and for a moment, Max felt like he was back there, in the heart of the weekend.

He scrolled through the carousel of photos that were attached. Most of them were of Ferrari, their crew and the cars. But as he scrolled to the last photo, he froze. It was of the RB-19, his RB-19, flying down the track.

Max’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes fixed on the photo. It was a perfectly timed shot. His car sliced through the corners of the track, the blurred backdrop of the stand giving the image a sense of motion and speed.

You had taken this photo.

Curiosity piqued as he swiped out of the carousel he was looking at, quickly tapping on another shortly after. He paid little attention to the first handful of photos, but at the end, was a photo of him on the podium in Belgium, drenched in sweat and champagne from the celebrations.

Max moved onto another carousel. This time, photos from Miami in 2022. Sure enough, at the very end, was a photo of him and Charles embracing each other after the on track battle.

With every post Max had looked at, there was always a photo of him mixed in somehow. Whether he was in the background, or the main subject, every single post involved him. It was as though you had seen the things he hadn’t let himself feel, capturing the rawness of the moments he had tucked away.

He managed to scroll all the way to the bottom of your profile, to the very first post you had ever made. They were all photos you had taken as a kid, most likely from the red point and shoot camera you had glued to you. And there, at the very end of the photos was a shot of a little boy Max had known too well. The same photo that had been resting in your photo album for years. The same photo of the little boy that now resided in Max’s wallet.

That little boy needed to get you back.

=============================

tagged: @mixedstyles

95 notes · View notes