#i just want to shake some people sometimes
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producedbysohyun · 2 days ago
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Cuddling
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Squid game x reader hcs
Summary: How the people in squid games would cuddle you (separate)
Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Se-mi, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Jun-ho, Hyun-ju, Mi-na (non!squid game au)
Warnings: might be slightly suggestive at some points.
masterlist
a/n: I love writing these so much! I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!!
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Thanos
Get ready to be crushed
Lays on-top of you
And does not let you get up for anything
“Let me get up for a second I-“
“No.”
While laying on-top of you he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck or chest
If you do end up getting up he whines until you lay back down
Type of Bf to use your butt or thighs as a pillow 😔✊
Randomly bites you
Has cute aggression 100%
Very deep sleeper
Moves so much in his sleep so if you guys fall asleep cuddling at least one of you is gonna be upside down when you wake up
Will give you pda anytime anywhere he does not care
I’m literally Dr. Seuss
In-ho
Not very big on cuddling
He tolerates it for you tho 😚
Even tho cuddling isn’t really his thing he LOVES when you sit on his lap
Especially when you’re facing him
Also likes when you lay on his chest
Literally just lets you cling to him and do whatever
Acts like he doesn’t care for it but we all know the truth
When he’s tired he just completely lets his guard down
That will probably be the only time he initiates cuddling
Other wise you’re kinda on your own 
Se-mi
Loves laying on your chest !!
Gives you neck kisses when she’s the big spoon 😏
Also a biter
Likes to have you on her lap
Touches your tummy while cuddling
you cannot stop her 😡
Clingiest Gf you can have !!
Takes every opportunity to hug you from behind and just stays like that for as long as possible
When you lay on her chest she likes to play with your hair
Another deep sleeper
Girl will not wake up for anything
If you are in bed with her you better be ready to never leave the bed again once she gets her hands on you
“Babe I need to get up”
“Five more minutessss”
Dae-ho
Most cuddly person ever
Big spoon !!
not so secretly likes being small spoon sometimes
Either rests his head on-top of yours or in your neck
If you guys fall asleep like that expect not to be getting up at all
Literally has a death grip on you
Lays his head on your thighs or chest pt.2
Will fall asleep immediately if you start playing with his hair 🙁
HATES sleeping without you
The lightest sleeper ever
If you softly shake him awake he will either have a dramatic mom reaction or he’ll just be confused asf
My babbyyyyyy
Myung-gi
Struggles to sleep if you aren’t next to him
Religiously the big spoon
He likes to put his hands up your shirt while cuddling and his excuse is
“My hands were cold 🙁”
“Damn right they are 😡”
Yaaaa we all know his real intentions ✊
Neck kisses pt.2 !!
Another one that uses your thighs as a pillow
Moves a lot in his sleep as well but stays holding you the whole time somehow
Loves you being on his lap pt.2
The type to rub your thighs while watching a movie or some sht😭😔🙁😭😡😔😔😡
I want him so bad
Gives you so much kisses !!
I need someone like him omg 😔
Jun-ho
Loves cuddling face to face if that makes sense 😭
Likes to hear about your day while just holding you
Listens intently and plays with your hair as you speak
He also enjoys when you lay on his chest
The weight of your body calms him down and he feels better knowing you’re safe in his arms
If he’s feeling extra vulnerable that day he’ll lay his head on your chest
Probably gets super exhausted after work sometimes so he just falls asleep the second he gets home
and when you join him in bed he immediately wraps his arms around you
Overall I don’t think he’d be to big on cuddling but he also wouldn’t mind
Hyun-ju
She’s just a big teddy bear
Especially when you’re alone with her
She isn’t too big on pda so in public she probably just sticks to holding your hand
But in private you’re getting cuddles, kisses, you name it
There will be a lot of giggling going around
Loves if you braid or play with her hair while cuddling
Lets you try out new hairstyles on her to see which one looks the prettiest 🤭
Loves when you lay on-top of her
When the both of you go to bed she HAS to be touching you
No matter if it’s holding hands or being straight up on top of eachother
Poor girl just needs you 😔
Mi-na
I feel like she wouldn’t really care for being touchy with anyone but if it’s her s/o
Sign her up !!
Definitely small spoon
She wants to be treated like a princess 😋
Puts her legs over your lap and just pouts at you till you rub them
If she’s feeling a little frisky she’ll get you to put your head on her chest and then just cling onto you
Loves giving you kisses !!
ugh I want her
Cannot fall asleep if you aren’t in bed with her
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a/n: hii! I hope you guys enjoyed thissss! (If you’ve made requests it might take awhile for me to get to them I’ve been busy lately I hope you understand!) (reqs are currently closed)
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allmylovc · 2 days ago
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heartless!chris takes care of you when you´re drunk.
There had been a campus party tonight, and let´s just say you were having the time of your life. Now that you and chris broke up (again) you were able to enjoy it without any stress of him doing some stupid shit or getting mad over you doing some stupid shit.
You made out with like 10 diffrent guys, and took way too many shots, while chris stood there in the corner watching you like a hawk. He was seething. He hated seeing you around other men, it was disgusting watching you throw yourself on all these guys that you´ve never even met.
He walks up to you after he saw you stumble out the bathroom, and plop on the couch. He takes your drink out hand, your head shoots up "Hey!" you protest as you reach to take your drink back. He shakes his head and sighs "What´s wrong with you, huh?" he said as he taps your head with his other hand.
"Nothing." you scoffed, with an adorable pout on your lips. He rolled his eyes "You´re acting like such a dumbass today." your heart ached at his words. He always acted like this when you two broke up, but he wasn´t any better and he would do the same. So why was it a problem when you did it?
He tilted his head and smirked "C´mon, you´re to drunk to be around all these people." he said as he reached his hand out for you to take.
Which you did.
You two stood up and made your way out the party. He took you to his car, buckled your seatbelt for you and drove off. Once you two got to his place he got you carefully out the car and took you inside.
The second you stepped foot inside you felt that uneasy feeling in your stomach “I’m gonna puke.” you said as you put a hand over your mouth. His eyes widen and he immediately takes you over to the bathroom. Your stomach churns, and you bend over the toilet, barely holding yourself upright.
The nausea is overwhelming, and all you can do is gag, your body shaking with each heave. Chris is kneeling beside you, holding your hair into a make shift ponytail.
His face twists up in disgust as he hears your vomit pouring into the toilet “Let it all out.” He said quietly, as his fingers brushed through your hair.
You wipe your mouth and flush the toilet, and sit back on the cold tile, your legs weak and trembling beneath you. Chris sits down as well, leaning his back over the tub with a grunt.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, you looked up meeting his gaze, you shrugged “I don’t know, chris.” You ran a hand through your hair—moving it away from your face “I was sick of your bullshit,” he scoffed and shook his head “So you’re blaming you being drunk and stupid on me?” he laughed bitterly “Of course.” he huffed “Cause you’re always right, and everyone else is wrong.”
You shook your head and rolled your eyes “That’s not what i meant.” you protested “Then what did you mean?” he snapped “You acting stupid and being a fucking slut has nothing to do with me.” he retorted harshly.
The silence grew heavy and so did the tension in the room. Maybe he was right, maybe you were being a total fucking slut, but in your defense you just wanted to forget about him.
“You know how pissed i was when i saw you make out with all those guys?” he admitted silently. You felt a glimmer of happiness knowing you were able to successfully make him jealous, but even then you still felt a bit of guilt gnawing at your chest.
He met your gaze “This is.. this is stupid.” he scoffed, you nodded in agreement “I know it is,” you sighed as you sat straight “I just wish you wouldn’t act the way you act all the time.” He bit his lips “Yeah.” he whispered “I’m sorry.”
“You act so heartless all the time, chris.” he said quietly, he bit the inside of his cheek “I just wish you could show me how you feel sometimes.” he continued.
You two just sat there for a moment in the awkward silence, and the heavy tension in the room. You both fucked up bad, but unlike him you were willing to talk and apologize for your actions. Meanwhile he just sat there and said absolutely nothing.
You looked up and sighed “I love you, chris.” your confession hanging in the air, he didn’t even look at you or show a hint of sympathy or affection he just nodded.
“I know.”
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©ALLMYLOVC all rights reserved.
⊹ authors note  — woohoo first heartless!chris blurb, and i don’t how to feel about it, idk why i criticize my work so much, but enjoy! i apologize if there are any misspelled words or grammar errors. english is not my first language.
tags: @marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @zebonos @/sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm
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witherby · 1 day ago
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hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!
-- :33Anon
I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.
This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.
The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home
(Part 1/2)
Masterlist is Here!
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Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.
He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.
Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.
You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.
"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"
That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!
"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."
"What's inherably mean?"
"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."
You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.
"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."
J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.
"You know that I am not a human, correct?"
"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"
"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"
"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.
"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."
"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"
You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.
"You cannot."
"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.
"Metahuman."
"Whatever."
"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."
"Not fly powers?" You frown.
"No, not flight powers."
"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"
"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.
"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"
"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."
J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"
"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."
"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.
"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."
"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."
You preen. "I know!"
J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.
"Yay! We did it!"
The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.
"Hello!!!" You shout.
A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.
"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"
"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"
"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"
"I did."
"Did you win?"
"Yes."
"Can we have ice cream?"
"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."
"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"
"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.
--
The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.
Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.
"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.
"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.
"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"
"Uh. Some carrots please."
"All out."
Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"
You turn around. You turn back.
"All out. Whataya want!"
"You barely looked!" He insists.
"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."
"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."
"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."
Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."
"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."
"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."
You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.
"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."
"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."
"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.
"There's nothing in there but toys."
"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."
Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.
"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."
Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.
"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."
You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.
It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.
"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"
"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."
"And you can...feel shadows?"
You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."
Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.
"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.
"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."
"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.
"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"
"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."
"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."
The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.
"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."
"Then you see the problem."
Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.
"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."
You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.
"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"
"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"
"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."
Oh.
You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.
You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.
Oh.
The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.
But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.
Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.
"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"
You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.
Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.
But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.
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mrsfancyferrari · 3 days ago
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We're Saved
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Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay. PT 3
Song: Let The Light In - Lana Del Ray
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4
Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. Unfortunately this will not be the finale! The FINALE is officially in part 4! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
Taglist: @ahhhhhm, @daniskywalkersolo, @friendshipis-magic, @tellybearryyyy, @lanadelray1989, @owl778, @almostuniversallyface, @maluzets55, @dying-inside-but-its-classy, @noooway555, @unknownmystery22, @forensicheart, @a-beaverhausen, @moonstruck-poet, @mendes-bae.
Word count: 27.8k
MASTERLIST - F1
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"I’m innocent! I was cheated on by Y/N with Max Verstappen! She left me for this other guy. It’s all her fault. She slept with him when we were dating! I'm innocent! Please!" His voice, frayed with desperation, sends shockwaves through your system.
You feel your heart racing, an uneven rhythm that reverberates in your chest, drowning out the echoes of the world around you. The bowl of popcorn slips from your fingers, scattering pieces across the living room floor.
You blink rapidly, the words blaring from the TV like a siren wailing through the night. Jake stands there, disheveled yet defiant, claiming innocence while slandering your name.
“Y/N, calm down, breathe,” Christian implores, his own voice laced with worry as he pauses the TV. He steps in front of the screen, blocking your view of Jake’s dramatic claims.
The concern in his eyes cuts through the fog of anxiety descending over you. “It’s okay. It’s just Jake. You know he’s lying.”
You shake your head, the reality of his words spinning through your mind like a tornado. “But, how can he just say that? People will believe him!”
“Hey,” he takes a step closer, his presence a steady anchor against the rising tide of panic. “Listen to me. You know the truth. You didn’t cheat on him. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just him trying to save face.”
“But what if they don’t see it that way? What if they think I really did—”
“They won’t,” Christian interrupts softly, his eyebrows knitting in concern. “You’re not going to let some headlines dictate your worth, are you?”
Taking a deep breath, you fight against the tide of emotions crashing over you. It wasn’t just Jake’s words that hurt; it was the betrayal, the way he twisted your love story into something ugly.
“I just don’t understand,” you finally whisper, feeling the weight of the world pressing heavily on your shoulders. “Why would he say something like that?”
“Because he’s angry and scared,” Christian replies. “He’s lashing out because he knows he messed up. But you’re stronger than this, Y/N. You didn’t cheat. You ended a toxic relationship. We both know that.”
The flicker of hope ignites momentarily within you, but it quickly dims as that familiar pang of uncertainty tugs at your heart. “I never wanted things to end like this. Did I really mean that little to him?”
Christian places his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “You meant a lot to him once. But people change, Y/N. Sometimes they become someone you no longer recognize. It sounds like he’s trying to rewrite history because he can’t accept the truth of his mistakes.” His words wash over you like a soothing balm. You nod slowly, attempting to absorb his encouragement.
“Have you thought about confronting him?” Christian asks. “Not on TV, of course, but in private. He needs to understand the ramifications of his words.”
You shake your head, the very thought of Jake and his betrayal makes you feel exhausted. “I don’t know if I can,” you admit. “Just seeing his face makes me—”
Your voice catches, and Christian pulls you closer, enveloping you in an embrace that feels like home. “Then don’t confront him. Focus on what matters right now—yourself. Your peace of mind. We can figure this out together.”
“Can we—can we just turn the TV off?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. The thought of hearing Jake’s voice again fills you with dread.
“Absolutely,” Christian replies, pushing the button on the remote, the screen fading to black. It feels like a weight has been lifted. “What do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know,” you mutter, feeling defeated. “Maybe just distract myself? I can’t think about this right now.”
Your phone buzzes against the coffee table as it lights up, cutting through the haze of despair. Christian glances at the screen, squinting at the name flashing across it.
“It’s Max,” he says, his brows furrowing slightly. “Do you want to talk to him?”
You nod, unable to trust your voice, relief flooding through you at the thought of speaking with him. Max always knew how to make you laugh, how to pull you back from the edge of your spirals. Christian takes the call, speaking softly into the phone.
“Max, do not, under any circumstances, talk about Jake. Y/N is not ready for that now. Just take her mind off it.”
“Of course, I understand. Can you give the phone to Y/N now?” Max’s voice, warm and buoyant, crackles through the line.
“Okay, but remember,” Christian warns as he hands you the phone.
“Hey schat!” Max’s voice floods your ear, bringing with it an instant warmth that begins to thaw the tension coiling around your heart.
“Hey, Max,” you reply softly, trying to match his enthusiasm. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much, just wanted to tell you that the cats are missing you,” he says, and you hear a distant meow in the background, a confirmation that in their own way, they too are longing for your presence.
You chuckle, trying to hold back the mass of emotions threatening to rise within you. “Of course they do! I’m their favorite after all.”
“It took me so long to get them to like me and you did it in three minutes. Oh—Sassy, stop! Schat? Do you mind going on video call? They really want to see your face.”
“Of course, Max,” you say, feeling a soft smile break through the tension.
Christian watches you, his heart swelling with hope. Just seeing you smile, even slightly, is a relief. After a moment, you hear the familiar ringing tone on your phone as the video connects, and suddenly, you see Max’s face beaming back at you, framed by the chaos of your shared lives.
“Look who’s here,” he says in a mock-serious tone, gesturing dramatically toward the camera. Then, just outside the frame, two furry figures leap into view.
“Hey, you two!” You coo, leaning closer to the screen, your spirit lifting as the cats vie for your attention. “Missed you so much!”
A sudden giggle escapes you as one of the cats gets distracted, pouncing at something invisible offscreen. You can’t suppress the smile that spreads across your face, and in that moment, Christian knows he made the right call in bringing Max into the situation.
Meanwhile, in another room, Christian picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Geri’s name. Her voice always managed to calm him, a soothing balm to the chaos of parenthood and life.
“Hey love,” she answers on the second ring.
“Hey, Y/N had seen the news about Jake, and I think she just had a panic attack,” he explains, worry lacing his words.
“What! I told you to not show her just yet! Where is she?” Geri’s voice is sharp, full of concern.
“Don’t worry, she’s calmed down,” he says, glancing into the living room where he can still hear your laughter.
There’s a pause on the other end, and Christian can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. “Is that her? She sounds fine to me.”
“She’s talking to Max. I told him to cheer her up,” he replies.
“Sounds like it’s working miracles! I heard that a loved one can help panic attacks,” Geri states matter-of-factly.
“Love,” Christian warns softly.
“What? They love each other,” she says, disbelief threading her tone.
“But she may still like Jake.” His voice is a whisper now, almost a prayer that you’ve moved on.
“After this? She’s probably forgotten about that bastard now she’s speaking to Max,” Geri says with fierce confidence.
“Honey, no cursing, I’m with the kids,” he chuckles lightly, trying to lighten the mood.
A few moments later, squeaky yet bright, and it’s Montague, their little one. “Hi Mommy, love you!” he chirps.
“Hey, baby! Love you too! I’m coming home soon,” Geri replies, her own voice turning softer, more maternal than ever.
“Dear? I’ll speak to Y/N when I get home; just keep her distracted, okay?” Geri adds, a hint of authority in her tone.
“Of course, love, I’ll keep her entertained,” Christian promises, a smile creeping on his face as he glances back at you.
You’re still deeply engrossed in Max’s antics, and he can see it’s working wonders.
As the call continues, laughter and lightness fill the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For the first time in what feels like weeks, you're allowed to forget the chaos outside—if only for a moment.
Christian watches you, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this is the first step toward healing. Amid the blankets of pain Jake left you buried under, your laughter is a fresh thread, weaving you and Max closer, and as the minutes slip by, you know that this is where your heart wishes to be, in the company of those who truly care.
Time passes, and the shadows cast by your past begin to lighten, revealing new paths forward, ones that glimmer with potential and hope.
You don’t have to think about Jake anymore—not right now, anyway. You’ve found solace and comfort in friends, and maybe soon, you’ll find a little love too.
You went to sleep after dinner, the phone call with Max had calmed you down for now, but now all you wanted was sleep. Unfortunately, sleep didn’t want you back. After what felt like an hour of tossing and turning, you heard a knock on your door.
“Come in,” you said, sitting up on your bed, the sheets pooling around your waist.
The door opened slowly, and Geri walked in, closing the door behind her. “Hey, Y/N,” she said sweetly, her voice warm and motherly, like you were one of her children. It felt that way sometimes, especially in moments like this.
“Hi, Geri,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.
Geri sat down on your bed, her presence calming in a way that was both comforting and suffocating. “I heard about what happened today. Are you alright?”
You looked down, avoiding her gaze, a lump forming in your throat. “No,” you said, honesty spilling out before you could think better of it. You didn’t feel like lying to this woman who had always been a source of support.
“And that’s alright,” she replied gently, her hand reaching out to squeeze yours. “You’re allowed to feel that.”
“Geri, I don’t even know where to start,” you confessed, your voice cracking. “He… he just turned everyone against me. People I thought I could trust. They’re all believing him.”
“Not everyone, from what I heard. Max still believes you,” Geri said, her eyes sparkling with a glimmer of hope.
Your heart skipped at the mention of Max. You felt a flicker of warmth in your chest, but it was quickly extinguished by the cold reality of the situation.
“But what does that even matter? Jake was on national TV! He lied about me. He said I cheated on him, Geri! Everyone is hearing that, and all they see is him, crying over how I betrayed him. I can’t compete with that.”
Geri leaned in, her eyes earnest. “Y/N, people who know you will see through the lies. You’re not that person. You didn’t cheat on him.”
“I thought I knew him. I thought he cared about me,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks. “How could he do this to me?”
“He’s scared,” Geri replied softly. “People do crazy things when they’re afraid. It’s easier for him to deflect the blame than to face his own issues. You know that.”
You nodded slowly, but the hurt was still fresh, like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. You felt exposed, raw, and utterly devastated by the public humiliation.
“You know something like this happened to me a long time ago,” Geri said gently, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “Shall I tell you about it?”
You nodded, desperate for a distraction, for the comfort of shared experience.
“I had a boyfriend called Kyle. I thought he was the one for me until one day, after the concerts with the girls, he told everyone I knew I had cheated on him with one of the backup dancers. Word got out and it became a scandal,” Geri started, her eyes clouding with memories.
“What happened after?” you asked, intrigued. You leaned in closer, wanting to absorb every word.
“I didn’t know what to do. No one other than my friends and family believed me. The press was calling me a cheater. My manager said to forget about it and write a statement on social media about the truth,” Geri recounted, her voice steadying.
You felt a flicker of hope. “And did you? Did you write a statement?”
“Sort of,” Geri replied with a smirk. “I took a break and decided to take some time for myself. Friends suggested that I go to a Formula 1 race, and that’s when I met Christian. He helped me through the dark times. Just like Max is doing for you.”
“Max…” you murmured, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks. You didn’t want to think about how much you liked him, especially now.
“He’s been really supportive, hasn’t he?” Geri asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You two have this incredible chemistry. It’s nice to see you smile again, even if it’s under these circumstances.”
You sighed, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. “I don’t want to drag him into my mess. What if Jake twists the narrative again? I can’t let that happen to someone else.”
“Max cares about you, Y/N. He’s not just going to abandon you because of what Jake said. Trust me, he sees who you really are,” Geri encouraged.
“I know, but it just feels so complicated right now,” you confessed, pulling your knees to your chest. “What if it gets worse? What if I end up hurting him?”
“Love is complicated, but you don’t have to face this alone,” Geri reassured her. “You can lean on Max, just like I leaned on Christian. It’s not a sign of weakness; it’s just how relationships grow. And trust me, no one who truly cares about you is going to abandon you because of someone else’s lies.”
The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. You knew Geri was right, but her heart was a battlefield, torn between past affections and the promise of a better future with Max.
“What if I lean onto Max and he thinks I’m just a mess?” your voice cracked. “What if he sees me as broken?”
“Y/N, you are not broken. You’re human, and you’re allowed to feel hurt and lost after everything that’s happened. But if you push him away because of that fear, you might miss out on something beautiful,” Geri urged.
Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke, “I just need a moment. I’m so scared of getting hurt again.”
Geri nodded, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay to be scared. Just remember that Max has shown you kindness and support. It’s a risk worth taking.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” you said, earning a gentle rub on your shoulder from her. “But what should I do now? This scandal is not going to disappear.”
“Talk to your manager and I’ll ask Christian for advice,” Geri suggested, her brow furrowing in concentration. “We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, okay?”
You nodded, your mind swirling with thoughts. As Geri stood to leave, you called out, “Geri?”
“Yeah?” Geri turned back, her expression open and warm.
“Thank you. For everything,” You said, your voice steadier now.
“Anytime,” Geri smiled before disappearing into the hallway. . . .
You woke up to the sound of hushed conversations drifting up from downstairs, an unfamiliar mix of voices that hinted at urgency and unease. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pushed back the covers, feeling a mix of anxiety and dread wash over you.
You took a moment to collect yourself before deciding to face the world beyond your bedroom. The soft morning light spilled into your room, illuminating the racing memorabilia that decorated the walls.
You rummaged through your wardrobe, searching for something that would help you regain a semblance of confidence amidst the turmoil.
Finally, you settled on a crisp, fitted polo shirt paired with tailored black jeans. You wanted to project strength and professionalism, even if your heart was in turmoil.
As you stepped into the living area, the chatter ceased momentarily, and all eyes turned toward you. The room felt charged with a palpable tension.
There, gathered in the living room, were Christian, Geri, your manager, and a Red Bull staff member you didn’t recognize. They all bore expressions of concern mixed with an eagerness to discuss the recent scandal.
“Good morning, did we wake you up?” Geri’s warm smile felt like a small comfort amidst the chaos.
“No, you didn’t. Did I interrupt a meeting?” you replied, your voice steady, even though your heart raced.
“Oh no, actually this meeting is for you,” your manager said gently, his brow furrowing slightly as he gestured for you to take a seat. “We were discussing the news of yesterday.”
Christian leaned forward, his eyes searching yours. “This is Rebecca, Red Bull’s Public Relations Manager,” he said, gesturing toward the young woman standing by the table.
She was poised and confident, her blazer sharp against her athletic frame. As she stood to shake your hand, you noticed her expression was one of sympathy.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you said, squeezing her hand firmly. “Can I drink some coffee before I join the meeting?”
“Join us whenever you’re ready,” Geri replied, her voice soothing as she motioned toward the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen.
You walked into the kitchen, your heart pounding with uncertainty. You could hear snippets of conversation as you waited for the coffee to brew.
When the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, you poured yourself a steaming cup and took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves before rejoining the group.
As you returned to the living room, you found the atmosphere had shifted slightly, the weight of the discussion palpable.
“So,” you began, trying to sound more composed than you felt, “what’s the plan?”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “We’re here to strategize your public response. The situation with Jake has escalated, and we need to manage the narrative before it spirals out of control.”
You set your coffee down on the table, the cup trembling slightly in your grip.
“I didn’t cheat on him, you know that, right?” You felt the urgency to clarify, to assure them of your innocence. “I’m not sure why he’d say that.”
Geri nodded, her expression one of understanding. “We know, and we’ll make that clear. But we need to address the media first. They’ll be relentless.”
“Could you please tell us in detail what events happened prior to know how to strategize?” Rebecca asked, her voice gentle yet firm.
You looked at Geri, seeking her reassurance. She nodded, her presence grounding you. Taking a deep breath, you began, “Jake had been getting more aggressive with me ever since I joined Red Bull. He said he didn’t want to lose me, but he would hit me, break things in the house… and then he’d apologize for being angry. I thought it was normal. I forgave him until the Austrian Grand Prix.”
You paused, the memory flooding back—laughter and cheers from the crowd, the thrill of victory, and then Jake’s face, twisted in anger.
“I won the race, and he was really furious for some reason. He hurt me… saying I cheated on him with Max. I didn’t. Max then came in and stopped him.”
As you recounted the incident, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The tension hung like a heavy fog. You could see the disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes, but there was also a flicker of understanding.
You stare at the table, your heart heavy with shame. “I still have some bruises and scars if you don’t believe me,” you mutter, ashamed to meet Geri’s gaze.
“Oh, honey,” Geri whispers, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We believe you. You deserve so much better than this.”
“I just don’t understand him anymore,” you say, shaking your head, your fingers brushing over the faint marks that Jake left on your skin.
Rebecca, your team manager, cleared her throat, drawing your attention. “We need to handle this carefully. The media is already buzzing, and we have to prepare a statement. But first, let’s talk about your safety. Have you thought about what you want to do regarding Jake?”
You looked down at your hands, heart racing as you contemplated the question. Fear and liberation wrestled within you. “I—I don’t know. I still love him, but I know I can’t go back to that. I don’t want to be that person again.”
Geri sighed, a mix of sympathy and frustration evident in her eyes. “Love shouldn’t feel like a prison. He put you in a terrible position, and you don’t deserve it.”
“I know,” you murmured, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “But he’s always been a part of my life, and it’s hard to just... let go.”
Rebecca shifted in her seat, her expression softening. “What about Max? Do you like him?”
A flush crept up your cheeks, and you bit your lip. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted. “I mean, he’s always been there for me, especially during races. He’s so talented, and he respects me as a driver.”
Geri raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “That sounds like more than just teammate admiration, love.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips despite the gravity of the situation. “You’re ridiculous, Geri. It’s not like that. I’m just… trying to get through this mess with Jake.”
“But is it a mess you want to get back into?” Rebecca pressed gently. “What’s your heart telling you?”
Your heart raced as you pondered the question. The truth was, part of you craved the affection and validation Jake had once given you, but another part craved something deeper, something healthier.
“Well, I think the best thing to do is write your statement on social media, seeing as it will reach more people,” Rebecca suggested, breaking the silence that had fallen.
“Do I really have to? I mean, what if I make it worse?”
“Nothing can be worse than what Jake has already done,” Geri interjected. “You need to take control of your narrative, and you can’t let him dictate your life.”
You nodded slowly, knowing deep down that they were right. You grabbed your phone and opened your social media app, hesitating as your finger hovered over the screen. What could you say? How could you explain something so complex in a simple post?
“Just be honest,” Rebecca encouraged, leaning closer to you. “Let people know the truth. You can’t let them believe Jake’s lies.”
Taking a deep breath, you began typing. “I want to address the recent events. I am deeply hurt by the accusations made against me. My focus has always been on my career and my passion for racing. I never cheated on Jake. The truth is, I deserve to be respected and loved without betrayal.” You paused, your heart racing as you added, “I hope to navigate this situation with grace and find a way forward.”
Once you hit “post,” an unexpected wave of relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced by anxiety. What would the backlash be? How would Jake respond?
Max’s comment reads, “You deserve the world after all this 💙.”
Your heart skips a beat. You knew it would look like flirting to the public, but you couldn't care less. Max had always been the guy who treated you with respect, unlike Jake.
Rebecca notices your reaction. “Well, at least that’s the first step done. The next will be what you’re going to say in the press,” she states, her tone shifting to that of a strategist.
As a driver, you’ve always had a passion for racing, and this unexpected break has given you the chance to reflect on your upcoming press conference in Las Vegas in just two weeks.
The support you’ve received on social media has been overwhelming, with many women expressing their gratitude for your representation in a sport that often lacks it, even though that was never your intention.
“I want to see you as soon as possible,” he had said, his tone serious yet tender.
You had told him that you would be tied up babysitting Geri and Christian kids tomorrow night while they enjoyed their date night. He had agreed, a hint of concern lacing his voice.
“Don’t be nervous,” Geri teases, applying a final touch of lipstick. “He’s just a friend, right?”
“Geri, don’t,” you groan, rubbing your temples. You know she means well, but the flutter of emotions within you is a tempest you’re struggling to control.
The thought of Max brings you a sense of comfort, but also an undeniable tension. Your heart races just thinking about how he’d react to Jake’s lies.
The doorbell rings, shattering your train of thought. You jump up, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and barely hear Geri chuckle as you rush to the door.
You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself as you swing the door open.
Max stands there, his familiar figure cutting a striking silhouette against the evening light. For a moment, you both just stare at each other, taking in the sight. It feels surreal that after more than a week apart, he’s here.
You can see the concern etched on his face, mingling with a flicker of relief that he’s finally found you.
“Max,” you whisper, feeling a rush of emotions bubble to the surface. Without thinking, you step closer and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.
He freezes for a moment, and then you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in tighter. It’s a crushing hug, and you need it more than anything in that moment.
The world fades away, and it’s just you and him. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice slightly muffled.
You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “I missed you too. More than I can say.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, knowing that he doesn’t need to say his name for you to understand.
You nod, pushing your face back into his neck. You didn’t feel like talking about it. The last week had been tumultuous; you had lost your job, and the burden of uncertainty weighed heavily on you. But for now, you just wanted to bask in Max’s presence.
He seems to sense your hesitation. Instead of pressing further, he rubs your back in circles, grounding you with each gentle movement.
“Sorry to bother your reunion, but me and my wife need to go,” you hear a voice behind you. You let go to turn and see Christian, looking both happily and slightly irritated.
Geri comes out of nowhere, carrying her bag before playfully hitting her husband on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t be so sour, love! Don’t disturb young love,” she chides.
Max’s face turns crimson, and you can’t help but chuckle at his embarrassment.
“Oh, hello Geri and Christian,” Max says politely, but there’s an undercurrent of nervousness in his voice as if he hasn’t known them for years.
“Hey, Max, it’s been a while! I hope you don’t mind taking care of the kids,” Geri says, gesturing to her two children watching Moana, blissfully unaware of the adult world swirling around them.
“I don’t,” he replies quickly, a bit too quickly, as though he’s eager to impress.
After Geri and Christian bid goodbye to the kids, Geri pulls you into a warm embrace. “Don’t forget about the kids when you’re with him,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I won’t,” you assure, a smile spreading across your face as you pull back.
You wave as they enter their car and drive off, leaving you alone with Max. The quiet of the evening settles around you, a comfortable silence that feels right.
You turned back to see Max still lingering near the entrance, his eyes darting around, a shy expression plastered on his face.
“I’ve never seen you this red before; is something the matter?” you teased, stepping closer to him, feeling a strange thrill at the proximity.
“Nothing is wrong,” he muttered, though the way his cheeks flared made it hard to believe him.
Before you could respond, Olivia’s voice rang out from the living room, “Y/N! The movie stopped!”
You quickly walked to the living room, with Max trailing behind you. Upon entering, you found Olivia and Montague staring at the blank screen, their eyes wide and expectant.
When they noticed Max behind you, Olivia jumped to her feet, an expression of curiosity and surprise painting her face.
“Who is that?” she asked, pointing at Max, her eyes sparkling with interest.
“That’s Max Verstappen, your dad’s driver and my teammate, remember?” you explained, stepping in between the two children and Max, who was waiting for them to process the information.
Slowly, Olivia approached Max, her little brows furrowed in concentration. Montague, on the other hand, hid behind your leg, peeking out shyly.
Max, sensing the little girl’s hesitance, knelt down to be on her level, his warm smile making him more approachable.
“Hey there, Olivia,” he said softly, “I hear you like racing.”
Before he could say more, Olivia squealed, “Maxie!” and rushed to envelop him in a tight hug.
Max looked taken aback for a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes before he returned the hug, clearly relieved that she recognized him.
Montague peered from behind you, his gaze curious. You nodded encouragement, and the three-year-old cautiously waddled over to Max.
“Can I hug you too?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course!” Max replied, opening his arms wide. Montague dashed into his embrace, a shy grin breaking through his earlier timidity.
“Wow! You’re really strong!” Montague exclaimed as he pulled back to look at Max, his eyes sparkling with admiration.
Max chuckled, “You know it! But you’re a strong little guy too.” He ruffled Montague’s hair affectionately.
The room filled with warmth and laughter as you watched the unlikely trio connect. “You’ve got a great way with kids, Max,” you remarked, leaning against the couch, feeling a swell of fondness for him.
Max shrugged, a modest smile creeping across his face. “I guess they’re just a bit like racing—just need to know how to make them feel comfortable.”
Olivia, still bubbling with excitement, chimed in, “Can we watch Moana now, Max? Please?”
Max stood, dusting off his knees, “Absolutely! But only if you promise to sing along with me during the songs!”
“Deal!” Olivia declared, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. Montague nodded vigorously, and the two rushed back to the couch.
As Max settled in beside them, you felt an unexpected flutter in your chest watching him interact so effortlessly with the kids.
It was a sight you never knew you needed to see, and somehow, it made the day feel even more special.
You shook your head to clear your thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. With the TV remote in one hand and a big bowl of freshly popped popcorn in the other, you navigated the living room and prepared to join the trio on the couch.
As you walked back in, you couldn’t help but marvel at the picture before you—Olivia and Montague snuggled up against Max, their faces alight with excitement as they chatted about the adventures of Moana.
Max was the only one who noticed your presence at the doorway. “Hey, you’re missing the best part!” he teased, his voice warm and inviting, gesturing with his hand for you to come over.
You chuckled and placed the popcorn on the table before joining them on the couch. As you settled in, you felt Max's arm rest casually behind you, a simple gesture that sent a thrill down your spine.
Montague then decided to plop himself down on your lap, grinning from ear to ear.
“Can I have some popcorn?” he asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Of course, little buddy!” you replied, scooping a handful of popcorn and offering it to him. He giggled, delighted.
As the movie began, you found yourself lost in the vibrant animation and the infectious songs. The familiar tunes filled the room, and soon, Olivia was singing along, her voice loud and enthusiastic.
Max joined in, his deep voice blending harmoniously with hers, and you couldn't help but smile.
“Isn’t this the best?” Olivia shouted over the music, her little hands dancing in the air.
“It totally is!” Montague agreed, leaning back against you. “Moana is my favorite!”
As you sat there, enveloped in the laughter and song, you couldn’t shake the thought that this moment felt like a family—your heart warmed at the idea of it. You looked at Max, who was entirely focused on the kids, his face lit up with joy.
The thought of a family with him, of laughter, love, and shared moments, flickered in your mind. You didn’t hate the idea; in fact, you found it rather comforting.
Max must have sensed your distraction because he leaned a little closer and whispered, “Don’t think for now; focus on the movie.”
His voice was low, a playful grin on his face as he nudged your shoulder with his hand.
You nodded, attempting to push the thoughts away, immersing yourself instead in the colorful world of Moana. But it was hard not to feel that flutter again as Montague snuggled deeper into your lap, and Olivia continued to sing her heart out.
Time slipped away, and when you finally woke, you found yourself fully lying on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over you.
As you blinked awake, your eyes adjusted to the sight of Max cross-legged at the table, Olivia and Montague by his side, helping them with their homework. They were distracted, giggling softly as they tossed playful glances at each other.
You decided to keep quiet, wanting to listen to their innocent chatter.
“So Maxie! Do you like my sister?” Olivia asked in a tone that was surprisingly confrontational for someone so small, though no one could mistake it for intimidating.
“Who?” Max replied, his brow furrowing in feigned confusion.
“Y/N! She’s basically my sister,” Olivia declared, her expression matter-of-fact, as if the truth of the universe had just been revealed.
Max’s eyes darted to you, and you felt your cheeks warm. “Oh, Y/N, it’s complicated,” he said, shrugging in a way that made you feel he was hiding something.
“Love can’t be complicated! If you like my sister, then you two should date! I think you two will look cute together,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly.
“I do like Y/N,” Max began, a smile creeping onto his face. “She’s pretty, and she makes me feel happy—”
Olivia’s squeal interrupted him, a piercing sound that made Montague cover his ears dramatically. “So you do like her!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
You could feel your heart race, a mix of embarrassment and delight. It was one thing to think about your feelings for Max; it was another to hear him admit them so openly, even if it was to a seven-year-old.
You stretched, stretching the blanket away from your body, pretending to wake up. “What are you guys yelling about?” you asked, your voice thick with feigned sleepiness.
"Nothing," Max said, hastily shushing Olivia as she burst into giggles.
“Oh, uh, just some kid stuff,” Max said, his cheeks slightly pink as he averted his gaze from yours. You noted the small, shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and your heart raced again.
You had always liked Max. But tonight, hearing him confess to Olivia that he liked you stirred something deeper within you, a mixture of hope and fear that made you hesitate.
Olivia looked at you with wide eyes, the kind that meant she knew more than she should. “Y/N, Max said you’re pretty! And that you make him happy!”
Max's face turned a bright shade of red, and he quickly covered Olivia's mouth with his hand. “Okay, that’s enough of that! Let’s focus on your homework!” he said, trying to redirect the conversation.
You slipped off the sofa and moved to sit with them at the small dining table. “Let’s see that homework then,” you said, suppressing a smile.
As the three of you tackled Olivia’s math problems, the air was filled with laughter and the occasional playful bickering.
Every time Max’s hand brushed against yours while reaching for a pencil, electricity shot through you, making it hard to concentrate on the numbers sprawled out on the page.
After dealing with the homework, you decided to watch another movie as a reward for concentrating that long.
The atmosphere turned lighter, and as the movie started playing—Toy Story 3, an old favorite of theirs—Montague was already dozing off, snuggled against you.
You smiled, gently pushing his hair back as he slept.
Max leaned closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re really good with them,” he said, his gaze earnest.
You felt your heart flutter, and you turned to meet his eyes. “Thanks, Max. I really enjoy spending time with them and you too. It’s nice to take a break from everything else,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual even though you felt the weight of his words.
As the movie played on, Montague shifted in his sleep, and Olivia was slowly getting drowsy as well.
Max helped you tuck them into bed, his hand brushing against yours as you carried Montague upstairs. In the dim light of the hallway, you caught Max watching you, a soft smile on his face.
After you tucked Montague in and turned off the light, you returned to find Olivia snuggled under her blanket, her big eyes heavy with sleep.
“Goodnight, Y/N. And Max, too!” she mumbled, her voice fading into slumber.
Max turned to you, a warm smile lighting up his face. “You really are amazing with them. They adore you,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
You felt your cheeks heat up. “I love spending time with them. They’re like little sponges, soaking up everything.”
The evening had flown by, and you were pleasantly surprised by how easy it felt to be with him. You thought he would leave, but to your surprise, he headed to the living room, starting to clean up the popcorn mess from earlier.
“Are you not going to go?” you asked, your brow furrowing slightly as you watched him gather the scattered kernels.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied, looking up at you with those warm blue eyes that always seemed to find a way to melt the edges of your heart. “But if not, I’m going to clean this mess and then we’re going to talk.”
You hesitated, your heart pounding at the thought of what he might want to discuss. “Talk about what?” you asked cautiously, trying to mask your nervousness.
Max set the popcorn bowl down and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he regarded you.
“About Jake, what you’re going to do about it, and everything else,” he stated plainly.
You froze, the air thickening around you. You had thought that was a conversation you could avoid for a while longer to be face to face.
“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s just typical Jake, you know? He loves to stir the pot.”
Max sighed, clearly unconvinced. “It’s more than that, and you know it. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”
“Why are you so invested?” You couldn’t help but challenge him, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s my mess to handle.”
“Because I care about you,” Max replied, his voice softening. “And I can see it’s bothering you more than you’re letting on. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
You looked away, heart racing. You liked Max—really liked him—but the idea of him getting too involved in your drama felt like a lot to ask. “It’s just… complicated. I don’t want to drag you into my issues.”
“Too late,” he said with a slight grin, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m already knee-deep in popcorn and Jake drama. Might as well make a mess of it together.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “That’s one way to look at it.”
After a moment of silence, you helped him clean up the mess of popcorn that had spilled onto the floor. As you gathered the stray kernels, he made you sit down and wait for him to finish cleaning. When he finally returned, he was holding two glasses of water, the cool liquid glistening in the light.
He handed one to you before sitting down beside you, his knees brushing against yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a moment, you forgot about the chaos surrounding Jake.
“So why do you want to talk about it?” you asked flatly, wishing he would drop the subject.
“Because I really needed to see if you were okay,” Max stated, his gaze steady. “I know we already talk about it on the phone, but you could have been lying.”
“What if I lie right now?” you challenged, a hint of defiance in your voice.
“Then I’ll know,” Max replied simply.
It was true. Max had a way of seeing through the facades you put up, his perceptive nature both comforting and unnerving.
“So what do you want to know?” you asked, taking a sip of water to buy yourself a moment.
“Are you really okay?” Max asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
You stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. “Honestly?” you sighed, finally allowing the vulnerability to creep in. “No, I’m not okay. Jake’s always been dramatic, but this… this is just too much. He’s painting me as the villain in his story.”
Max nodded, processing your words. “And it hurts.”
“Yeah,” you admitted, feeling a knot form in your throat. “It feels like everything I built with him is unraveling, and I’m left to pick up the pieces. I didn’t cheat on him, but no one’s going to believe me when he’s the one on TV.”
“People will believe you,” Max reassured you. “I believe you. I’ve seen the way you are, and it’s not like you to betray someone. Jake’s just trying to shift the blame.”
“Thank you,” you murmured, your heart warming at his support. “It’s just so exhausting.”
You never thought it would come to this—a therapist’s office, the sterile smell of freshly cleaned upholstery, the soft hum of the air conditioning.
“Hello Y/N, I’m Dr. Sullivan. I’ll be your therapist. I’m sure Mr. Horner told you about me,” the woman said as she stood up to shake your hand.
“Good afternoon, yes, Mr. Horner told me about you,” you replied, your voice slightly wavering. You felt small, yet determined. You had made the choice to be here, to reclaim your life.
Dr. Sullivan gestured to her couch, and you took a seat, trying to find a comfortable position in the plush cushions. It felt strange to be here, talking to a stranger about the most intimate parts of your life.
“Why don’t we start by talking about what brought you here?” Dr. Sullivan suggested, her eyes gentle but probing.
You took a deep breath. “I… I’ve been struggling ever since my relationship with Jake ended. He wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was… he was everything. But he became controlling and abusive. I thought I could handle it, but… now it’s all falling apart.” You swallowed hard, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.
Dr. Sullivan nodded. “It’s normal to feel this way after leaving an abusive relationship. Can you tell me more about the abuse?”
You hesitated, the memories flooding back. “He would get angry over small things, like how I dressed or who I hung out with. At first, I thought he was just protective, but then it became suffocating. He would shout and belittle me. I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time.”
Dr. Sullivan maintained a compassionate expression. “That sounds incredibly difficult. It’s understandable that you feel scared and anxious. This is not just about your past; it’s about your future, too. What do you want to feel instead?”
“I just want to feel normal,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to go out without feeling like everyone is judging me or thinking I’m a liar. I don't want to be having panic attacks when I see someone who looks shady because I think it's him.”
Dr. Sullivan leaned forward slightly. “It’s important to understand that what he said doesn’t define you. You are not a liar, and you did not deserve the treatment he subjected you to. We’ll work through these feelings together.”
As the session continued, you slowly opened up about everything—the fear, the shame, the isolation you felt after the breakup. Dr. Sullivan listened intently, offering small affirmations that helped you feel validated.
“Tell me about Max,” she said softly. “How does he fit into this?”
You felt your heart skip a beat at the mention of his name. Max was your teammate, a kind and encouraging presence in your life. “Max has been my friend for a while now. He’s supportive and always encourages me to be better. I’ve never seen him as anything more than that…until recently.”
“Do you think there are feelings there?” Dr. Sullivan probed gently.
“I don’t know. I mean, after everything with Jake, I’m terrified of getting hurt again. But sometimes, when Max looks at me, I feel safe. It’s strange… like I can breathe for the first time in months.” You smiled slightly, lost in the thought of him.
“Exploring those feelings is an important part of your healing process,” Dr. Sullivan advised. “You don’t have to rush into anything, but acknowledging that you can feel something for someone again is a positive step.”
As you left the office that day, the air felt lighter. You were still plagued by Jake’s accusations, but you began to understand that his words didn’t dictate your worth.
You made a promise to yourself: to heal, to grow, and to allow yourself the chance at love again, even if it scared you. . . .
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The paddock buzzed with excitement and nervous energy as the sun cast long shadows over the grandstands. The atmosphere was charged, as if everyone could feel the weight of the headlines swirling outside the circuit.
As you made your way through the bustling paddock, you felt a steadying presence beside you. Max walked with a casual confidence, his Red Bull cap pulled low, shielding his eyes but not his smile.
You couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him; despite the chaos of the past days, he always had a way of making everything seem more manageable.
“So, you think you’re going to be okay with the questions?” Max asked, taking a swig from his can of Red Bull as you both entered the hospitality room.
You sighed, the tension creeping back in. “Yeah, but you know they’re going to shoot so many questions. I’m not even sure what to say.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, giving you a reassuring nod. “I’ll help if it gets too much. Just look at me and I’ll step in.”
You shot him a playful glare. “I think that would just assist the rumors. The last thing we need is for people to think we’re a couple now, too.”
Max chuckled, a warm sound that lifted your spirits. “Well, that might not be the worst thing,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly. “But seriously, just stick to the facts. Ignore the drama.”
Before you could respond, a staff member approached, signaling it was time for the press conference. Your heart raced as you followed the staff into the room, where a group of journalists awaited, cameras flashing and questions ready to roll.
You took your place on the sofa, flanked by Yuki, Charles, and Alex. Max settled beside you, giving you an encouraging thumbs-up.
“Right, so let’s start now,” the interviewer said, eyes focused on you. “First question: What are your thoughts on the allegations made against you?”
You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around the microphone. “Well, I think it’s important to clarify that—”
“Are you currently in a relationship with Max?” a journalist interrupted, his tone cutting through the air like a knife.
You looked at Max, who raised an eyebrow, silently asking if you wanted him to step in. You shook your head slightly, determined to handle this on your own.
“No, I’m not in a relationship with Max,” you replied, your voice steady. “He’s my teammate and a great friend. The rumors are just that—rumors.”
Another journalist chimed in, “What do you have to say about your ex’s claims? Do you think they’re rooted in jealousy?”
A flurry of questions followed, each more intense than the last. But with every inquiry, Max’s steady presence calmed your racing heart. Every time you looked at him, you found reassurance in his supportive gaze.
The questions came flying at you like a barrage of arrows, each one aimed to wound. “Why do you think Jake would say something like that?” one reporter pressed, while another shouted, “Are you saying he’s lying?”
Taking a breath, you replied, “Jake is going through a lot right now, and I can’t speak for him. But I can tell you this: I have never cheated on him, nor would I. We broke up for reasons that were our own, and I wish him no ill will.”
You could tell Max was getting restless as they pressed further, so you decided to change the subject.
“Can we talk about the upcoming race instead?” you interjected, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m really looking forward to the challenges this circuit presents. It’s a fantastic track, and I think we have a great chance to show our skills.”
Max jumped in seamlessly. “Absolutely. I think our team has made some significant improvements since last season, and I’m excited to see how we can push each other on the track.”
The journalists seemed momentarily distracted by your shift in focus, jotting down notes and exchanging glances.
After a few more questions about racing and strategy, the conference finally began to wrap up. As you stood to leave, a reporter called out, “One last question! How do you feel about your ex’s accusations?”
You took a moment, glancing at Max, who was watching you intently. “I feel like it’s time to move on from that chapter. The truth will always come out, and I’m excited to focus on my career and the people who truly support me—like Max.”
As the press conference wrapped up, you stepped away from the cameras, the weight on your shoulders feeling a little lighter.
The chaos of the last few days—the headlines, the rumors, the betrayal—was still echoing in your mind, but at least now you felt like you had a little control over the narrative.
“You handled that really well,” Max said, his voice warm and encouraging as he fell into step beside you. He flashed a genuine smile that sent a flutter through your chest.
“Thanks,” you replied, a hint of shyness creeping into your tone. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Max’s support had been a lifeline.
“It’s nothing, really,” Max said, shrugging off your compliment as you both approached the conference room door. “I just hope it makes them shut up.”
He opened the door for you, and as you walked into the meeting room, you immediately felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. The team was gathered around the large conference table, and their expressions ranged from concerned to curious.
“Sorry we’re late,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you sat down in one of the seats. Max took the spot beside you, his presence calming. Christian was already there, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Good to see you both,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I watched the press conference. You did an incredible job.”
“Thanks,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I just tried to stay calm.”
Max nudged you playfully with his shoulder. “You were calm like a pro. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were born for the spotlight.”
You chuckled, trying to shake off the nervous energy. “I think the spotlight is the last place I want to be right now.”
“Totally understandable,” Christian said, glancing between you and Max. “It’s a lot of pressure. But you two handled it like champions.”
You nodded, but inside, your mind was racing. The press conference had felt surreal.
The meeting shifted to strategy for the upcoming race, but you found it difficult to concentrate. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Jake’s betrayal, the hurtful accusation that hung in the air like a bad smell.
You glanced at Max, who was animatedly discussing the course with Christian. His passion was palpable, and in that moment, you felt a tug at your heart.
You liked him. A lot. More than you had dared to admit.
“Okay, what do you think?” Christian asked, breaking through your reverie.
“Uh, sorry, what?” you replied, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had completely zoned out.
“About the race strategy,” Max said, smiling gently. “We’re thinking of tightening the turns on the first lap. You know, give us a better chance at the inside track.”
“Right, sounds good,” you nodded, trying to catch up. “That could definitely give us an edge.”
“See?” Max grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re back with us!”
As the meeting continued, you found yourself stealing glances at Max, a smile creeping onto your face whenever he laughed or made a point. The warmth between you was undeniable, but guilt lurked in the back of your mind.
How could you feel this way when your past was still hanging over you like a storm cloud?
When the meeting wraps up, you stand to leave, but then you hear Christian’s voice. “Y/N, can you stay back for a minute?”
Shit. That’s what you get for daydreaming during a meeting.
Max catches your eye and tilts his head, concern etched on his features. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just a quick chat,” you say, forcing a smile, but inside, your stomach churns. You watch as he exits the room, leaving you alone with Christian.
“What’s up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.
Christian leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his arms crossing over his chest, a gesture that always seemed to amplify his imposing presence.
He regarded you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before speaking, his tone smooth as silk, yet somehow it didn't reassure you. “I heard you went to Dr. Sullivan, how is she?”
The unexpected question caught you off guard, making you pause for a moment. You mentally retraced the events of the past couple of weeks, remembering Christian’s subtle recommendation of her after you had opened up about needing help navigating through your toxic ex.
“She’s helped quite a bit, actually, thanks for advising her to me," you replied, your voice a touch softer, a touch more genuine than you had intended.
He was trying, wasn't he?, you thought, even though the knot in your stomach stubbornly remained, a reminder of all that had happened.
A beat of a pause, then Christian stated, "Good, just so you know she will tell me if there is something serious going on," he warned, a playful seriousness lacing his tone.
A genuine chuckle escaped your lip, a small burst of the old you that you hadn’t seen in a while, "What? Are you my dad or something? I think I'm old enough to go talk to my therapist." you joked, your eyes sparkling in laughter. 
“I might as well be the closest to it,” he replied, a quiet tenderness coloring his features. His lips curled into a small smile, a fondness you hadn’t seen in a long time.
The roar of the crowd was a distant hum as you peeled off your racing gloves, the leather still warm from the day's practice. Friday had been a revelation.
You’d practically glided around the track, the car feeling like an extension of your own body. No jitters, no second-guessing, just pure, unadulterated speed.
You’d attributed it to the release, the feeling of all the mounting stress finally draining out of you, leaving you light and free. You’d finally found your rhythm.
“Good run today,” a voice rumbled from behind you. You turned to see Max, his usual calm demeanor etched across his face. He leaned against the garage wall, a half-smile playing on his lips.
“Yeah, it was…good,” you echoed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.
You liked seeing him like this - relaxed, confident, not burdened by the weight of expectations. “Felt like I could finally breathe out there.”
“You looked like it,” he chuckled, pushing off the wall and walking towards you to look at the data. “You were practically flying.”
You blushed, a little embarrassed by his observation. “Well, someone had to put on a show,” you teased, throwing a playful punch at his arm.
His gaze met yours, a flicker of something undefinable sparking in his usually placid blue eyes.
“You always put on a show, don’t worry,” he said softly, as he turned away, the comment hanging in the air between you, leaving you breathless and confused.
Saturday was an entirely different beast. The pressure had returned, tangible and heavy. It was in the air, in the hushed tones of the team, in the nervous energy buzzing around the paddock.
Max, however, seemed unfazed. He’d stormed through qualifying, each lap faster, more precise, culminating in a blistering pole position. You, on the other hand, had struggled to match his pace, despite your best efforts.
Third place wasn't bad, but it felt miles behind him.
The team, of course, was ecstatic. This was it. The culmination of years of hard work, the potential for a historic double victory hung heavy in the air.
If Max won tomorrow, he’d secure his second championship. And if you managed to finish in the points, Red Bull was so close to clinching the constructors’ title.
It was a monumental task, a pressure cooker of emotions.
"Mate! I swear you are so in love with her," Charles declared, leaning back against a wall, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
Max's face flushed, a telltale sign that his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance was crumbling. "No, I'm not. I just... care for her," he stammered, avoiding Charles's gaze.
He busied himself with holding the red bull in his hands , anything to distract from the intensity of his friend’s scrutiny.
Charles chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "Right, 'care'. Do you think about her too often?"
Max hesitated, his mind flashing to recent moments: her reaching for something on a high shelf, the way her hair caught the sunlight as she walked across the paddock, the way she’d smiled after he'd helped her with the data.
He felt a heavy knot settle in his stomach. He let out a breath, resigned. "...Yeah," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
"Do you think you're protective of her?" Charles continued, pressing his advantage.
Max frowned. The word felt too strong, too possessive, not that that’s not exactly how he felt. “Not protective, but I like to be by her," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the ground as if the answers lay hidden in the cracks of the pavement.
He didn't want to be protective, he just wanted to be someone she could rely on, someone she could turn to.
Suddenly, Charles’s voice boomed, startling Max, “Oh hey, y/n!” he said, waving enthusiastically at someone behind Max.
Max's head snapped around, a strange mix of hope and panic surging through him. He nearly twisted his neck, trying to see if y/n was actually there, his hand instinctively moving to cover a nearby potted plant as he turned.
When he finally turned back, he found Charles doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach.
"I swear, you almost snapped your neck!" he gasped, tears forming in his eyes.
"Mate, not funny," Max grumbled, his cheeks burning hotter than before. He tried to ignore the way his heart was still pounding, a frantic hummingbird caught in his chest.
Charles wiped the tears from his eyes, his grin still wide. "But hey, I just did some tests on you, and I found out…" he paused for dramatic effect, raising his eyebrows.
"Found out what?" Max asked, his curiosity piqued despite his irritation.
"That you love her too much," Charles declared, his grin now bordering on mischievous. "You're a book, my friend. All the symptoms are there: the blushing, the constant thinking, the almost-neck snapping… It’s clear as day."
Max felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his chest.
He didn’t want Charles, or anyone else for that matter, to see the truth that was slowly coming to light. . . .
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The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, a wave of sound that crashed over you as you unbuckled your helmet. The acrid smell of burnt rubber and hot metal hung heavy in the air of the parc fermé, a stark contrast to the champagne that would soon be flowing.
You pushed your helmet off, shaking your hair free, and your gaze immediately sought him. Max was already out of his car, his dark blue jumpsuit a beacon in the throng of team personnel and photographers.
His face, usually so tightly controlled, was lit with a grin that could rival the floodlights overhead. He’d done it.
Another championship secured.
A surge of warmth, something akin to pride and something more complicated, bloomed in your chest. It wasn't your win, but still, the sight of him like that—unburdened and triumphant—it was a sight you cherished.
You’d finished second, a bittersweet position after Lando's heartbreaking crash had bumped you up. The race had been a rollercoaster of emotions — tense overtakes, strategic tire changes, and then the shock of the yellow flags followed by the red.
You’d been locked in a tight battle with Lando, then suddenly, you were fighting to keep yourself in the second position. It felt hollow, a win by default.
But this was Max's moment, and you couldn't let the disappointment of your near-miss dull his shine. You pulled off your gloves and pushed through the crowd, a smile firmly plastered on your face.
Your eyes met his the moment he turned, and you noticed the flash of something akin to relief cross his features.
He pushed through the few team members still trying to reach him, making a beeline directly towards you.
“You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice a little higher than usual, the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Two-time champion! That’s incredible, Max!”
He engulfed you in a bear hug, his familiar scent of aftershave and something indefinable that was purely his filling your senses. He smelled like victory.
"Thank you," he said into your shoulder, his voice roughened by exertion.
"It was... it was a good race.” He pulled back, his hands still resting lightly on your arms. His blue eyes, usually so sharp, were filled with an uncharacteristic softness.
"You were fast out there, too. Second place after Lando… that sucks. But you did amazing to pick up the position so quickly.”
“It's okay,” you said, shrugging, though a small pang of disappointment still lingered. "It's your day, though. You deserve all the celebration.”
He shook his head. "No, not just mine. You fought hard. We both did.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering.
“You always do.” The way he said it, so intimately, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost as if he was saying something more than the literal words.
The photographers closed in, cameras flashing, and the moment was broken. Team members swarmed around Max, pulling him away for interviews and podium preparations.
You reluctantly stepped back, watching as he was swallowed by the throng. Your heart gave a funny little flutter, a feeling you tried to ignore, chalking it up to the adrenaline.
You were herded towards your own team, receiving pats on the back and words of encouragement. You went through the motions, half-listening to the congratulations, your eyes still straying towards Max.
He had finally broken away from Christian's chatter and was standing beside the race engineers, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened intently to their debrief.
You saw something flicker in his gaze when he caught your eye, a moment of shared understanding in the chaotic aftermath.
Later, during the post-race press conference, you answered questions distractedly, your mind still replaying Max's words, his touch.
You managed to give coherent answers, but the only thing you could remember was his voice resonating in your ears - “You always do.”
The podium was a blur. You remember the flash of the camera lights, the sea of upturned faces, and the deafening roar of the crowd. You stared at Max out of the corner of your eye as his national anthem played, his expression a mix of pride and exhilaration.
He looked utterly invincible, a king on his throne. And then it was your turn. The second place you took made you happy, but you felt like you could have done better.
Your own anthem played, and you tried to soak it in, but your eyes were drawn to Max again.
The champagne spraying was chaotic, a shower of bubbly and laughter. You decided to target Max first, aiming your stream directly at him, catching him in the chest.
He laughed, the sound loud and genuine, and retaliated in kind, soaking your jumpsuit in the sticky liquid. It was playful, a moment of shared joy and release, and you couldn't help but laugh with him.
The roar of the crowd was still a physical presence, thrumming in your chest even as the lights of the Las Vega circuit began to dim. It was a cacophony of joy, fueled by the sheer adrenaline of the race and the history that had just unfolded.
Max, his face flushed with victory, stood beside you, the sweat still clinging to his dirty blond hair, his breath coming in slightly ragged pants. Around you, the Red Bull crew was a sea of red and navy, their faces lit by pure, unadulterated elation.
You stood shoulder to shoulder, each of you holding one end of the banner that proclaimed "2X Champion Max P1 Y/N P2." You couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride despite coming in second.
The banner was a testament to your shared journey, the countless hours you both had poured into this season, culminating in this euphoric, unforgettable moment.
"Alright everyone, let's get this photo!" an admin yelled, their voice barely audible over the lingering cheers. "In 3, 2, 1!"
The number one was still hanging in the air when, with a collective roar, everyone erupted, and suddenly, a downpour of champagne came from nowhere. It cascaded down on you and Max, the cold liquid instantly soaking through your fireproofs, leaving you shivering and laughing at the same time.
You and Max, without a word, instinctively turned and ran, the wet track presenting a new, slippery challenge. It was pure chaos, a beautiful, ridiculous mess of laughter and celebration.
Just as your feet were about to slip out from under you on the slick asphalt, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back and steadying you. It was Max, his face close to yours, a wide grin splitting his face.
“Careful now,” he chuckled, his voice warm and low and suddenly, too close for your heart’s liking.
And then, the rest of the crew descended, a joyful, champagne-soaked mob, trapping you both in a giddy, bubbly circle. They all cheered, spraying you mercilessly, their laughter adding to the symphony of the night.
You found yourself looking into Max's eyes, a small smile mirroring his own. In that crowded, chaotic moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. The world melted away into the blurry, bubbly frenzy.
You had grown to admire him, his unwavering focus and talent, the genuine kindness that he often hid behind his competitive façade. You enjoyed his teasing, his relentless drive, and the rare, unguarded moments when his vulnerability surfaced.
You were brought back to reality as the champagne deluge began to subside. You were both drenched, your hair plastered to your scalp, your clothes clinging to your skin.
“Well that was… intense,” you finally managed, laughing, the bubbles still tickling your nose.
Max’s arm was still around your waist, his touch sending shivers not from the cold. He finally released you, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “Intensely fun, I’d say. You know, you almost took your own personal dive out there.” He grinned, playfully nudging you with his shoulder.
“Almost,” you retorted, shoving him back, a playful smile gracing your lips. “You weren’t much better. I saw you sliding like you were on ice.”
“Hey,” he protested, a mock hurt look on his face, “I recovered, didn’t I? Showed my champion agility.”
“Sure, champion agility while grabbing my waist so I won’t fall,” you teased, “I think you were just trying to feel me up.”
Max’s eyes opened wide and a small blush tinted his cheeks. “Hey, I was only trying to be a gentleman. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”
You laughed again, shaking your head, the sound echoing in the near-silent garage. “Yeah right. You just wanted an excuse for an embrace.”
“Well, you’re not rejecting it are you?”
“No,” you mumbled under your breath.
“Did you say something?” Max asked, leaning closer to you with a smirk playing on his lips.
“No, I said, let’s get out of these wet clothes,” you said quickly, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
"Good idea. I'm starting to feel like a drowned rat," he said, running a hand through his now-soaked hair.
He walked away and you followed behind him, your heart beating faster with every step closer to the driver’s room where you could finally dry yourself up.
The walk back was a bit surreal. It seemed like just moments ago, the tension had been so thick you could cut it with a knife. Now, there was this quiet ease between you two, a strange, comfortable bubble of celebration.
You found yourself stealing glances at Max, his still-damp hair forming tiny curls on his forehead, his shoulders relaxed, the weight of the race finally lifted.
He caught your gaze once, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, and you quickly looked away, your cheeks burning.
"You’re coming to the party after this, right?" he asked as he veered towards his driver’s room door, breaking the quiet. His voice was low, a little rough, but the easy tone sent a flutter through your stomach.
“The party?” you repeated, pretending to be surprised, even though you knew about it.
The team always celebrated after a big race, but for some reason, the idea of being in the same room as him, surrounded by the celebratory energy, was a little overwhelming.
“Yeah, the team’s hosting a private party. Everyone is invited, including you, so you better come,” he stated, a hint of playfulness in his tone. He paused, looking at you, his bright eyes sparkling with an intensity that made your breath catch.
"I don't know..." you started, your fingers nervously fiddling. You were desperate not to sound too eager, not to betray the feeling he had evoked so easily.
Your mind was a whirlwind of "yes, of course" and "no, it's too much", with the scales of indecisiveness tilting back and forth.
"That's not the right answer," Max said, his smile widening. He leaned against the doorframe, blocking your path, making it impossible for you to just brush it off, and your heart skipped a beat.
He was so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, and your brain seemed to have shut off, making it near impossible to form a coherent response.
"After a win like this, you should be celebrating with us. Besides," he lowered his voice, "I want you there."
The confession sent a shockwave through you. He wanted you there? Your mind reeled from the casual yet charged statement.
Was it just a friendly gesture, or did that small ‘want’ mean something more? You desperately hoped it was the latter, but pushed the thought aside so you wouldn't get ahead of yourself.
"Okay," you said, the word barely a whisper, and you felt a blush stain your cheeks. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine.
"Great," he said, finally stepping aside and opening his door. "I’ll see you there then. Don't take too long getting ready." He winked and disappeared inside, leaving you standing there with a pounding heart and a stupid grin.
You finally made your way to your own room, the encounter playing over and over in your mind. He wanted you there. Those words kept echoing in your head. You tried to tell yourself it didn't mean anything, but deep down, you knew it did.
At least, you wanted to believe it did.
You stood in the bathroom, the steam from the shower wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You replayed the final buzzer in your mind, the roar of the crowd, and most importantly, the triumphant grin on Max’s face.
You hurried through the shower, your mind already racing to the night ahead. You quickly dried off, pulling a simple yet elegant black dress from your closet. It was the kind of dress that made you feel confident, yet effortless.
You smoothed it down, adjusted the delicate straps and quickly put on a pair of small heels; a last-minute addition to make it feel more celebratory.
Then, as you were putting on your lipstick, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Max, a single line: ’Club Zenith. See you there’ followed by an address. You grinned, your heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him again.
You grabbed your keys and bag, rushing out of your apartment and hailing a taxi. The ride felt like an eternity, each traffic light a cruel delay. You kept glancing at your reflection in the side window.
You hoped the dress was ok and worried about whether it made you look too overdressed.
Finally, the taxi pulled up in front of Club Zenith. The bass thrummed even outside, a low vibration that resonated through you. Taking a deep breath, you paid the driver and stepped out, the city lights creating a dazzling backdrop to the building.
The party was already in full swing when you arrived. The club pulsed with a chaotic energy, a symphony of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You scanned the crowd, your eyes searching for Max amidst the throng of people.
And then you saw him, across the room, surrounded by a boisterous group of his teammates. He was laughing, his head thrown back, and you couldn't help the little surge of emotion that coursed through you.
He looked genuinely happy, relaxed, and a wave of affection washed over you. You took a deep breath and started to make your way towards him, feeling a little out of place amidst their triumphant celebration.
He spotted you almost instantly. His face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He excused himself from his group, making a beeline towards you.
“There you are,” he said, his voice a little louder to cut through the music. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, offering a small smile, surprised at how calm your voice sounded when inside you were a whirlwind of nerves and excitement.
“Good,” he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. “Come meet some people.” He gently placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you further into the crowd.
The touch was brief, but it sent an electric current through you, and you found yourself struggling to focus on the new faces and introductions he was making.
You were acutely aware of his proximity, the warmth of his skin, the subtle scent of his cologne.
The rest of the night was a kaleidoscope of conversations, laughter, and stolen glances with Max. You were introduced to his team members, their partners and friends who had flown in to see his victory.
He kept you close, making sure you were included, offering you a quick smile when he caught your eye across the room. He seemed so comfortable, so at ease, and his presence had a strange calming effect on you. You found yourself relaxing too, finally letting go of the nervous energy that had plagued you all day.
As the night wore on, the crowd thinned slightly, and the music became a little less frenetic. You stood by the bar with Max, the flashing lights reflecting in his eyes making them seem even brighter.
“So, how does it feel?” you asked, leaning against the bar, a playful smile on your lips.
“How does it feel?” he echoed, tilting his head as he thought about it. “Pretty awesome, actually. A bit surreal. All that work, all those hours... and it paid off.”
“You earned it,” you said, nudging his arm with your shoulder. He deserved this, every single cheer, every congratulatory hug. You knew how hard he’d worked. “You did an amazing job.”
“Thanks,” he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You did a great job too.”
You laughed, a warm, melodious sound that filled the space between you. “Thanks Max.”
He glanced over to the bartender, quickly catching their attention. “Do you want a drink?” Max asked, having already grabbed a glass of virgin cocktail for himself.
“What, like a gin and tonic?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. He always joked about how predictable your choice of drink was to his.
He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your heart flutter. “Sure! I’ll make it if you want?” He was grinning now, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Really?” you asked, feigning surprise. “You, mixing drinks? I’m not sure if anyone is ready for that.”
“Hey!” he protested, playfully shoving your arm. “I’m a man of many talents. Bartender extraordinaire is just one of them.”
“Alright, I’ll bite,” you said, trying to hide a smile. “Surprise me.”
He grinned, turning to the bar and asking the bartender for the necessary ingredients. He poured carefully, a concentrated look on his face, as if he were performing brain surgery rather than mixing a simple cocktail.
You watched him, your heart swelling with a strange mixture of affection and admiration. You liked him, more than just a friend. You always had, but you tried to just push it aside and appreciate his friendship instead. Tonight, that felt harder than usual.
He finished the drink, sliding it towards you with a flourish. “Ta-da! One custom-made gin and tonic, served with the finest victory vibes.”
You took the glass, a light smile playing on your lips. “I’m impressed,” you said, taking a sip. “Not bad, Max. Not bad at all.”
He leaned closer, his arm brushing against yours. “Only the best for you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low hum.
The proximity made your skin tingle and you found yourself focusing on the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light.
You glanced around, realizing that most of the other partygoers had started to leave. “It’s getting late,” you said, your voice a little breathless.
“Yeah, it is,” he murmured, his gaze locked on yours. “But we don’t have to go home just yet.”
There was a pause, a silent question hanging in the air between you. You knew what he meant and a thrill ran through you. Your breath hitched slightly, your heart fluttering like a trapped bird.
You took another sip of your drink and decided to just go for it. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music. "We don't."
He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes. He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, sending another shockwave through your body.
"Then let's not," he said, his voice soft and intimate.
You'd made your rounds, offering sincere praises to the team, sharing in the collective joy, but your eyes kept drifting back to Max. He was sitting on a plush, low-slung chair, a small island of relative calm amidst the boisterous revelry, waiting for your return.
You felt a peculiar pull towards him, an audacity bubbling beneath the surface that you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the celebratory atmosphere, the heady mix of adrenaline and alcohol, or perhaps it was something else entirely.
You weren't sure. You just knew you wanted to be closer to him, to break through the polite camaraderie and truly connect. As your conversation with a team mechanic finally wound down, your gaze locked with Max’s.
A small, almost hesitant smile graced his lips, and something in you snapped. Impulsively, you walked towards him, your movements feeling both deliberate and strangely detached.
You settled onto his thigh, facing him, your gaze unwavering. His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise – and something else you couldn't quite name – registering in their deep blue depths.
You saw his jaw clench slightly, a subtle reaction that only fueled your newfound audacity.
"Are you drunk?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
It was a gentle question, laced with amusement and a hint of something more.
"Nope," you grinned, your heart beating a little faster. You leaned closer, the scent of his cologne, a crisp, masculine fragrance, filling your senses.
"Are you?" you teased, your voice a low murmur, your eyes locking with his.
His reaction was immediate and utterly captivating. You watched as a subtle panic flickered across his features, a blush rising to his cheeks. He looked away for a split second, trying to regain composure.
"No, I'm driving you to mines, Christian orders," he stated, his voice laced with a kind of frustrated urgency that made you want to laugh.
"Oh," you said, a playful smirk twitching your lips. "So, you're the designated driver for the night's festivities?"
He nodded, his gaze returning to yours, a hint of amusement replacing the initial panic. "Something like that."
The air crackled between you, charged with unspoken words and a palpable electricity. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, toying with a man who held a significant spot in your heart, and the fact that he was so close was making your heart beat faster.
You leaned in a little more. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. It was an action you wouldn't have considered if it wasn't for how you were feeling at that moment.
"And what if I didn't want to go home just yet?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of the party.
His eyes narrowed, their blue depths swirling with something akin to confusion and desire. He swallowed hard, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
"Then what, exactly, would you propose we do?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, tinged with a raw edge that made your pulse race.
You took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne filling your lungs and somehow making you feel braver than you had any right to. “Can I kiss you?” you dared to ask, the words tumbling out, a little too quick, a little too raw.
Max looked shocked. His jaw went slack, and his eyes widened in surprise, a comical contrast to his usual cool demeanor. He glanced around at his team, a quick sweep of the room, his fingers drumming nervously on the armrest of the couch.
“What if it gets out? I don’t want to have another rumour for you to deal with,” he said, his voice strained with concern.
The mention of the tabloids and the gossip columns made your stomach twist. You hated the way they hounded him, invading every aspect of his life.
“They won’t, it’s a private club, everything that happens here stays here,” you muttered, willing yourself to be confident, willing him to believe you.
He looked back at you, his gaze searching yours, trying to gauge your sincerity, your intentions. Then, he sighed, a mixture of resignation and anticipation in his posture.
"Just…one," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
You barely registered his words before you leaned in, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb caressing the line of his jaw. The feather-light touch on your lips sent a jolt through you, a feeling that was both electrifying and incredibly comforting.
His lips were warm, soft, and tentatively seeking. The kiss was gentle, a tentative exploration, a silent question. It was the first time your lips were meeting, but you immediately knew that it wouldn’t be the last.
When you moved back, Max was completely red under the lights, a blush that spread across his cheeks, traveling down his neck. He looked like a teenager caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his ears flushed a deep crimson.
He quickly tucked his head into your neck, his arms wrapping around you, holding your back from not falling off his lap.
You chuckled, a soft, gentle sound, while rubbing his exposed neck, the skin warm and velvety to the touch. “See, it wasn't that hard,” you said, your voice light and teasing.
“You’ll be the death of me,” Max muttered, placing a kiss on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. His grip on you tightened, as if afraid you would disappear.
You smiled into his hair, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the club's temperature.
You didn’t notice the rest of the team watching from afar, their faces lit up with knowing smiles. They’d seen the way you looked at each other, the way you moved together, the way you were drawn to each other like magnets.
They had all quietly placed bets on when you two would finally get together. As you kissed, they all knew that tonight, finally, their wait, and yours, was over. . . .
You didn't see the rest of the team observing, their faces conspiratorial in the dim light, their eyes flicking between you and Max like they were watching a tennis match.
They saw the subtle shifts – your body angling towards him, the lingering touch of his hand on your arm, the way your smiles seemed to mirror each other. They saw the unspoken tension, the pull that was as undeniable as it was unspoken.
Bets had been placed, whispered predictions of when the inevitable would finally occur. They watched, breaths held, as Max's face drew closer, as his gaze locked onto yours and, finally, as he kissed you.
The rest of the team exchanged triumphant looks and knowing nods. Tonight, they thought, it was finally happening.
But the next morning, everything was different. Or rather, nothing was. As you walked into the office, the memory of the kiss felt like a dream, fuzzy and distant.
You greeted Max with a casual "Hey Max," and he responded in kind. The ease of the club had vanished, replaced by a self-conscious awkwardness.
The team, however, their eyes full of expectation, watched you both carefully, a sense of bewilderment slowly creeping into their expressions. They’d been so certain.
The weeks that followed were a masterclass in miscommunication wrapped in a cloak of hesitation. You and Max acted as if that night had never happened.
There were stolen glances, moments of near-confession, but always, someone would pull back. It was torture to watch, the team felt. A silent, agonizing dance of ‘what ifs’ and unspoken desires.
You walked into the conference room for what you assumed was a regular weekly meeting, only to find the team looking at you with an odd mix of excitement and exasperation. The air was thick with tension, but not the same, nervous tension you were used to. This was more akin to a pot about to boil over.
Then came your birthday.
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The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, washing over you in waves as you stood there, the sun beating down on the asphalt. You held onto the haphazard collection of presents, a ridiculous tiara perched precariously on your head, a bright pink sash proclaiming you "Birthday Girl" draped across your shoulder.
Lando had a knack for finding the gaudiest tiaras, and George and Alex… well, they were always the purveyors of ridiculous humor. The balloons were back in the paddock, along with the suspiciously large cake Carlos and Fernando had promised, but at least these little tokens of affection were portable.
“How does it feel racing here on your birthday?” The interviewer’s voice cut through the noise, microphone hovering near your lips. You tried to smile, knowing the cameras were trained on you, the world watching.
“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, adjusting the tiara that threatened to slip over your eyes. “It’s always surreal to race, but on my birthday it’s… heightened, I guess.”
You laughed, a nervous sound, and gestured to the gifts you clutched. “It’s pretty special. I’m definitely feeling the love from the whole pit lane today.”
“The fans call you the grid’s princess, how does that make you feel wearing all these gifts from the grid?” they pressed, their pen poised above their notepad.
You felt your cheeks flush, a familiar warmth spreading up your neck. The “grid princess” moniker was a bit embarrassing, if you were honest, but it was also… endearing. “It’s… it’s kind of funny, actually,” you said, the word catching in your throat.
“I definitely don’t feel like a princess, especially not today in my race suit with my helmet. But I appreciate the sentiment. I think some of the guys might be taking it a bit too literally,” you added, glancing at the sash with humor in your eyes.
You could see Max speaking to Carlos in the distance from where you stood. You knew he was probably watching, the cameras probably on him too as he waited for his turn on the interview, observing.
He hadn't given you a present, not in the public eye anyway. He'd just given you a quick nod, a small smile at breakfast, then he'd gotten straight back to his pre-race routine.
You knew he was focused, that he wouldn't be distracted, and you respected that massively.
The interviewer asked one more question about your expectations for the race. You rattled off the usual platitudes about doing your best, about hoping for a clean race, about the challenges of the circuit.
But your mind kept drifting back to Max. His silence. His focus. You wanted to know what he was thinking.
Finally, the interview wrapped up, and you were released back into the controlled chaos of the grid. You made your way through the throng of people, the tiara feeling increasingly ridiculous, the sash a reminder of your self-proclaimed princess status.
As you approached the garage, you saw him. He was standing by his car, his back to you, but you recognized the set of his shoulders, the slight tilt of his head.
You took a deep breath, smoothing down your racing suit with a slightly trembling hand. "Hey," you said, your voice a little softer than you intended.
He turned, his gaze momentarily snagging on the tiara before meeting your eyes. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Happy birthday,” he said, his voice low, a rumble that vibrated somewhere deep inside you.
"Thanks," you replied, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. You felt self-conscious now you had closed the distance and were near him.
You didn't want to be just the grid's princess, you wanted to be seen by him. You subconsciously adjusted the garish pink sash, feeling your cheeks warm again.
"I almost didn't recognise you," Max said, his eyes flicking back to the tiara. He was trying to be light, you could tell, but you were still hyper aware.
You were desperate to not talk about the race. The pressure of the constructors hung heavy in the air, a silent weight that clung to everyone.
“You haven’t given me a present. Did I do something wrong?” You tried to sound as light and joking as possible, trying to hide the undertone of insecurity in your tone.
“I don’t know, did you?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile anyway. He always managed to make you smile.
"Maybe," you replied, matching his playful tone, "but I'm going to assume it's because you're holding out for something really special."
His smile widened, a genuine flash that made your breath catch in your throat. You'd known that smile for years; the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the slight lift of his lips that could make your heart feel like it was about to beat out of your chest.
"I'll give it to you after the race if you do good," he said, his gaze holding yours. The promise in his voice, the way he said it felt like more than just a casual comment.
You felt your cheeks flush. "You're being mysterious," you accuse, trying to sound unimpressed. But the truth was, your heart was pounding.
You knew he wasn’t a particularly sentimental person, but the anticipation of a gift from him, something chosen specifically for you, was intoxicating.
"Maybe," he said again, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Or maybe I just haven’t figured out how to wrap it yet."
You laughed, the sound light and free. With him, you found yourself capable of being yourself, something you appreciated so much.
“I hope it’s not a giant stuffed panda,” you quipped, referencing a childhood incident involving a particularly large stuffed animal and a rather embarrassing photo that still surfaced at family gatherings.
He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. It was a sound that was both familiar and yet still managed to set your stomach fluttering.
"No pandas, I promise. It's something a bit more…fitting." He let the words hang in the air, his gaze lingering on you.
The conversation was interrupted by the final call for the race. A wave of nervous energy coursed through you. You could feel the adrenaline starting to kick in.
You knew you needed to focus, put everything aside and race, but the thought of his ‘present’ after the race was intoxicating.
“I should go,” you said, a touch of reluctance in your voice. You wanted to stay, to keep talking, to continue basking in the warmth of his smile.
“Good luck,” he said. “I expect you to be fast out there.”
“Only if you are,” you retorted, a competitive edge creeping into your voice. “Wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of having it any other way,” he replied.
He watched you walk away, a smile playing on his lips again, his eyes lingering on you as you made your way towards your car.
The roar of the engine is a symphony in your ears, a familiar comfort in the chaos of the race. The world is a blur of color and motion, the other cars mere obstacles in your relentless pursuit of the finish line.
But there’s something else today, something that ignites a fire in your belly, a drive that transcends the normal ambition. A birthday present, he’d called it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
The way he’d said it—the husky tone, the knowing look—had sent a shiver down your spine, a thrilling anticipation that has nothing to do with the race itself.
You glance at the rear-view mirror, more out of a subconscious need than any real tactical advantage. You know he’s there, somewhere behind you, always pushing, always a threat.
It’s a dance you’ve performed countless times, a delicate balance of rivalry and respect, but today, there’s something more. Today, there’s an undercurrent of something… warmer.
You can almost feel him, a presence that is both challenging and strangely comforting.
Your engineer, Joseph, crackles in your ear. “Pace is good, you’re opening the gap. Stay focused, you’re looking strong.” You acknowledge him, but your mind is elsewhere.
You steal another look at the mirror and can just make out his car, a flash of red in the periphery. His presence on the track is a tangible thing, a constant hum of energy that vibrates through you, as if he’s tethered to you by an invisible string.
The laps blur, each one bringing you closer to the finish, closer to the promise that awaits. You push harder, the engine screaming in response, every fiber of your being focused on the road ahead.
The final lap. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a frantic rhythm that matches the engine's roar. The checkered flag waves, a triumphant black and white blur.
You cross the line, a surge of adrenaline and relief coursing through you. You did it. You won. And on your birthday, no less.
You pull into parc fermé, the roar of the crowd a deafening wave. The team is waiting, a sea of familiar faces, cheering and clapping. You are surrounded by hugs and congratulations, the energy infectious.
You're grinning, almost giddy with the win, but your eyes are searching, looking for one particular face. He's not here yet. You know he's coming, he's been in the car behind you the whole time and the thought is not as frustrating as you thought it should be.
Max is a few minutes behind, which is strange. Typically he’s right there.
You pull off your helmet, the noise of the crowd becoming a little clearer. You feel a hand on your shoulder. "You were incredible out there today," Joseph tells you, still wide-eyed from the race.
You laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of you. "I had to be, after all." You glance to the side to see if you can see Max anywhere.
The next few minutes pass in a whirlwind of celebrations, wild yelling, team members patting you on the back and laughing. The victory is sweet, especially on your birthday.
You keep your eye on the road where Max will arrive, and finally, you see his car pulling it. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the giddy fluttering in your chest.
He pulls up to the stall next to you, and gets out of the car, pulling off his helmet. He looks a little frustrated, but when he sees you he smiles. It's a small smile, not the ones he does for the cameras.
It's a smile that makes your heart soften a bit. He walks over, his eyes sparking with something that seems suspiciously like amusement.
"Second place isn't bad, eh?" he says, his voice a low rumble that sends another shiver down your spine.
You raise an eyebrow. “Second place for you is like admitting defeat, isn't it?” you joke, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.
He chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that makes you want to hear it again. "Only when I'm behind you,” he says, his eyes locking with yours.
The words hang in the air, charged with an undercurrent that you can’t ignore.
Before you could formulate a response to his suggestive comment, another car pulled up. It was Lewis, a smile on his face. He seemed happy enough with his third-place position.
“Great race,” Lewis said, dabbing you up with his fist. “Also, happy birthday,”
“Thanks, Lewis,” you grinned before letting him go. You chugged down some water, and placed the Red Bull hat on your head, making sure the logo was front and centre, before making your way over to the interview area.
"Y/N! how does it feel winning on your birthday?!" Nico asked cheerfully, holding the microphone up to you.
"It's amazing! I'm so incredibly happy, what a way to celebrate!" you said, the smile on your face was honest and you knew it was genuine. Winning a race was always an incredible feeling, but winning on your birthday was an extra special type of happiness.
"Have you gotten everything you wanted?" Nico asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Well, I've gotten everything I could ever want. A win, lovely fans, and a great car! I'm expecting a gift from Max though, he might not give it to me because he lost against me," you teased, glancing to your side to see Max grinning at your comment, giving a thumbs up.
Your heart did a little flip as you made eye contact with him.
"Well, I'm sure he will get you something," Nico chuckled before turning back to you. "So, talk me through the race, what was the turning point?"
You went on to talk about the race, the specific moments where you pulled ahead, the strategies that had paid off. You could feel Max’s eyes on you as you spoke, making it difficult to concentrate, but, you managed to get through it. You smiled at the camera as Nico finished the interview and thanked you.
Suddenly, amidst the cheering of the crowd, a familiar melody filled the air. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." The crowd started singing, their voices a wave of happy noise washing over you.
Your eyes darted around, a smile spreading across your face. This was such a beautiful moment, you felt overwhelmed with joy.
You looked over to see Max looking at you, and he had a soft gaze, which made your heart melt. He mouthed 'Happy Birthday', and you felt a small blush rise to your cheeks.
After the official ceremonies, the post-race frenzy began to settle, you found yourself heading towards the Red Bull hospitality area, the buzz of the celebrations still clinging to you.
The air was thick with the smell of champagne and victory, a potent cocktail of exhilaration. You were just about to grab a drink, to raise a toast to the day, when you felt a hand on your arm, gently turning you around. Your eyes met a staff member, her smile warm and inviting.
"Hello, Y/N," she said sweetly, her voice cutting through the remaining noise, "Christian told me to come get you."
A small knot of curiosity tightened in your stomach.
You nodded, a slight question mark hanging in your eyes, and followed her.
She led you away from the main throng, down a corridor you hadn't noticed before. The air grew quieter, the noise of the celebration fading with each step. You found this space intriguing.
Then the staff member pushed a door open and you stepped inside a dark room, a confused frown creasing your forehead. Before you could even form a question, the lights went on.
"SURPRISE!" a chorus of voices yelled. You blinked, suddenly blinded by the brightness, before your vision adjusted and you took in the scene.
There they were, all of them: Sarah, the engineers, the mechanics, even some of the other drivers, their faces alight with laughter and excitement, all shouting “Happy Birthday!”. It was almost too much to take in.
A wave of warmth spread through you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the recently illuminated room. This was… incredible. You’d been so focused on the race, so caught up in the pressure of the weekend that you'd almost forgotten about your birthday. To see so many people, people you worked with, people you considered friends, all gathered here, just for you... it was overwhelming in the best possible way.
Christian stepped forward, a hand landing heavily yet affectionately on your shoulder. "We've been planning it for a while now," he said, his grin infectious. "We knew the race fell on your birthday, so we figured a little surprise was in order." He paused, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Thought you deserved something special."
You couldn't stop smiling. You knew he was right, this was something special. You spent the next little while weaving through the crowd, making small talk, thanking everyone profusely for their efforts.
From the enthusiastic pats on the back from the mechanics to the genuine smiles from the engineers, every moment was a balm to your heart. You received a thoughtful gift from Sarah, a personalized scrapbook with pictures of the both of you since you two started being friends, and shared a laugh with a few of the drivers as they teased you about how old you were getting.
Every gesture, however small, made you feel appreciated and valued, more than just a driver on the team. For the first time all week, you felt completely at ease.
But then, a nagging question began to form, a question you couldn't ignore. Amidst the cheers and congratulations, one face, a face you’d been hoping to see, was conspicuously absent.
Where was Max? You searched the room again, your eyes scanning the crowd, but he wasn’t there.
Finally, when you felt you could politely excuse yourself from the crowd, you found Christian standing by one of the tables. You approached him hesitantly, a hopeful lilt in your voice.
"Hey, Christian," you said, "this was amazing, seriously. I, uh, just had a question. Do you know where Max is?"
Christian's grin widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Max is doing something in that room," he said, his voice a low murmur, pointing to a door at the far end of the corridor.
Then he winked, a gesture that made your stomach do a weird flip. "He said he had a 'special project' going on."
Your heart pounded in your chest. A ‘special project’? You nodded slowly, thanking him with a smile, but inside, anticipation was building. You began to walk towards the door, your steps feeling lighter than usual.
As you passed the others, you noticed their eyes were on you, their faces lit with knowing grins. Did they know something you didn’t?
A flush crept up your neck, your cheeks warming as you imagined what ‘special project’ Max could be working on.
You found yourself standing before the door, your hand hovering over the handle. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter in your chest. 
You had no idea what to expect on the other side of this door, but the feeling of nervous excitement was almost overwhelming.
The anticipation had twisted your insides into a tight knot, but you decided you weren’t going to stand here all day. You turned the handle, and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, only a few scattered tea lights illuminating the space. The change from the bright, harsh lights of the paddock was disorienting for a moment.
You could hear soft music playing, something instrumental and calming, a melody that seemed to wrap around you like a warm hug. And in the center of the room, stood Max. He was facing away from you, his broad shoulders tense, his posture almost rigid.
He wasn't wearing his usual Red Bull shirt, instead opting for a simple black t-shirt. It was jarring to see him out of his racing suit - he looked almost vulnerable.
“Max?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He turned around, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. He was holding a bouquet of vibrant red and blue roses, the colours stark against the soft light, and his face was… soft.
Not the usual hardened mask you were used to seeing on the racetrack, the intense focus replaced with something almost childlike. He looked nervous, almost hesitant. It was an expression you had never seen before.
His eyes, usually so intense, held a different kind of fire, a nervous vulnerability that made your heart do a strange little flip.
“Y/N!” he said, the usually booming voice tight with what you realized was panic. “These are for you,” He offered the bouquet, his hands trembling slightly.
You reached out and took them from him, your fingers brushing against his. The contact sent a shiver up your arm, not unpleasant, but definitely unexpected.
“Really? No one’s ever bought me flowers before,” you muttered, your voice a breathless whisper as you inhaled their sweet perfume.
The roses were a beautiful mix of classic red and a deep, almost electric, blue. It was unusual and completely fitting of the man who stood before you.
“Yeah, and there’s more,” he said, fixing his cap, a nervous gesture you recognized, though you couldn’t remember him ever being nervous before.
“Really? This is more than enough, you know,” you replied, feeling a tear prickle the corner of your eye. Not because you were sad, but because this unexpected gesture felt like something out of a movie.
Did this really happen to people? Did this happen to you?
“Nothing, of course, is enough for you, Y/N, you should know that,” Max stated with a small, genuine smile that sent a bolt of warmth right through you. His gaze was intense, locking onto yours, making the room feel smaller, more intimate.
You felt your cheeks flush once more, the warmth spreading across your skin. “I… I don’t know what to say.” You looked down at the roses, suddenly feeling flustered.
It was one thing to work alongside Max on the track, but this? This was completely different territory.
He stepped closer, and you looked up, your eyes meeting his. He was closer than he had ever been before. “Say you like them,” he said softly, his voice a husky murmur that echoed in the quiet room.
“I… I love them, Max. They’re beautiful,” you confessed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat and you felt that butterfly feeling flutter in your stomach.
You looked down at the bouquet again, the vibrant colours a stark contrast to the soft atmosphere of the room.
“Good. Cause I picked each one of them,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He reached out and gently touched your arm. “Look, I… I’m not good at this. This whole… thing.”
You chuckled, a soft sound that echoed in the room. “You’re doing a pretty good job so far, Max,” you said, finding your voice as you looked up into his eyes again. “Flowers, soft music, dimmed lights… it’s all very… thoughtful.”
He let out a soft relieved exhale, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Thoughtful? That's good,” he said, “I was hoping for thoughtful. The guys told me I needed a ‘good vibe’ and they weren't specific of what that vague term meant."
He ran a hand through his hair, looking endearingly flustered. “Okay so… this isn’t just about flowers, Y/N.” His gaze intensified. “I asked you here… because… because I wanted you to know… that I like you. A lot. More than I like fast cars, maybe even more than winning. Which is saying something.”
Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected, and your mind scrambled to catch up. It wasn’t as if you hadn't felt something between you two, a subtle pull that resonated every time you were near, but to hear it spoken aloud, so candidly, so… him… it was a shock.
“Oh. Oh no, no no, you don't-” you stammered, your hand flying to your mouth.
“What?” Max said, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“You don’t want to like me, I am no good,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.
The admission felt like a confession of a dirty little secret you’d been holding onto for far too long. But it was true, look at what happened to Jake.
“But I do,” Max said, his gaze unwavering. He leaned forward slightly, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and concern.
“Yeah, no, I’m sorry, I can’t- you can’t,” you insisted, shaking your head, trying to force some sense back into the situation.
You could feel the panic rising in your chest, a familiar feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while, but now this.
“Why?” Max asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion. The easy laughter that usually danced in his eyes was completely gone.
"Because I said – I am no good!" you said, your voice rising with a touch of desperation. You wanted him to understand, you needed him to understand.
“What do you mean? I can’t just stop liking you because you told me to!” Max said, there was a glint of annoyance now, a sign that he was not going to give in easily.
He was the kind of man who went after what he wanted and that was becoming more apparent than ever.
“Well, you will have to! Because I don’t- I’m not doing this. You don’t get to just...throw this at me!” you said, your hand moving wildly in the air, your pulse pounding in your ears.
“W-what, now you’re just being mean, if you don’t like me just say so,” Max said, the confusion morphing into hurt, and it hurt you to see the hurt in his eyes as they looked into you.
“I do! -like you… And- and that’s the problem,” you whispered, the admission ripped raw and honest.
You hated how vulnerable you felt in this moment, how naked your emotions were, laid bare before him.
“What are you even saying, I don’t get it,” Max said, his voice laced with frustration. This conversation had taken a turn he certainly hadn’t anticipated.
“I’m saying we can’t, not right now, hell, not ever,” you said, the finality of the statement solidifying the fear that had been swirling in your stomach into a concrete truth.
You walked over to the nearest table and placed the bouquet down before walking to the door, your hands shaking as you reached for the door handle.
You could feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of his confusion pushing down on your shoulders.
“Y/N, wait!” Max’s voice was behind you, but you kept walking faster now. You couldn’t let him see the tears that were threatening to spill, the vulnerability you guarded so fiercely.
You had to get away. You had to escape this room and the feelings it was causing, before you broke down completely.
“Please,” he said, his voice softer now, his steps quickening till he was right behind you, his gaze unwavering, “Just… explain. Tell me what’s going on. I… I don’t understand.” He was close now, almost too close, and you could feel yourself start to crumble.
You stopped, your hand still on the doorknob, and turned to face him. You searched his eyes, saw the genuine care there, the utter confusion. You knew you owed him that much, at least.
You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that could convey the turmoil inside you without completely breaking down.
“Max,” you began, your voice raw with emotion, “You… you’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and… and ridiculously talented. And that’s… that’s the problem.” The words felt inadequate, like they failed to capture the depth of your internal turmoil, but it was the best you could do.
His brow furrowed further. “But… I don’t understand. You’re saying I’m too… good for you? That’s ridiculous, Y/N.” He moved closer, his hand hovering near your arm, unsure if he should touch you.
“No, it’s not that!” You insisted, your voice cracking. “It’s… it’s me. I’m… messed up. I’m… a disaster waiting to happen. I ruin everything I touch, everything I care about.” You felt your throat tighten, your eyes burning with unshed tears.
“I can’t… I can’t do that to you. You deserve better. You deserve someone… someone who is not me.” The confession was like a dam breaking, the words pouring out, unfiltered and raw.
You’d finally said it. After weeks of agonizing, of rehearsing lines in your head, of second-guessing every feeling, you’d admitted your insecurities.
You’d spilled the messy truth about how you felt undeserving, how you believed that he, Max – kind, intelligent, and impossibly handsome Max – could, should, find someone better than you.
He was silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, taking in the vulnerability that you were so desperately trying to hide. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, gentle, almost a whisper.
“Y/N,” he started, his own vulnerability showing through, "I don't understand where this is coming from. I know you are the kindest and most amazing woman I know." He paused, taking your hand in his, as though wanting to give you his strength. "I don't want better, I want you, just you."
“But…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, the weight of your fears and insecurities still present, but somehow… smaller, diminished by the way he spoke, the vulnerability he showed and how gently he held your hand.
“No buts,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips, that nervous, sweet smile that made your heart twist.
“Just… tell me what to do. Tell me what I need to prove to you. Give me, give us, a chance. Please.” His eyes sparkled with hope, pleading with you to just… trust him. Just a little bit.
You looked into his eyes and you knew that you couldn't walk away. You knew that this would most likely end up breaking you, hurt you in ways you couldn't imagine, but his eyes, they held you captive.
You had only one answer so you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to organize your thoughts, to be as transparent as possible.
“It’s not that I don’t want this, Max. I do.” You say, your voice is soft, hesitant. “I like you, I really like you so much that it scares me, a lot.” The truth hangs in the air, vulnerable and raw, and you brace yourself for his reaction. Any reaction but the one he gives you.
He doesn't flinch or pull away. Instead, he squeezes your hand and smiles, that disarming, melting smile. "I think, if we work through it together, we might just make it. I think, that if we try, you will see, that whatever you are going through, you don't have to go through it alone. I want to be there for you, through it all."
His words are like a balm, soothing the anxieties that have been gnawing at you. It's not just the words themselves, but the way he delivers them, the sincerity in his voice, the unwavering look in his eyes.
He's not promising you a fairytale, he understands that the reality will come with challenges. But he’s offering you companionship, partnership, in navigating those challenges together.
A small smile plays on your lips as you look at him, hope blossoming in your heart. Maybe this would work out. Maybe you could finally be happy. But the fear still lingers, a quiet voice whispering in the back of your mind.
“But… what if I mess it up? What if I’m not good enough?” Your voice is barely a whisper, the insecurities finally bubbling to the surface. You feel so vulnerable to his gaze and the way he carefully holds your hand, like you are a precious glass.
Max’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gentle, grounding motion. “Y/N, you are more than good enough. You are amazing. And we all mess up. That’s part of being human. The point is, being able to say you're sorry, learn from it, and continue to move forward. Besides, we’ll make mistakes together, learn and grow together.”
His smile widens, adding, “And who knows, maybe those mess-ups will be some of our best memories.” He chuckles, a sound that always makes your heart flutter.
You felt like crying again, a mix of relief and overwhelming emotion flooding through you. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, seeking comfort in his warmth.
“I'm sorry for trying to push you away,” you muttered against his skin, the words muffled.
Max rubbed your back, his touch light and comforting. “Don’t apologise after what you’ve been through. I, of course, was never going to let you go,” His voice was quiet, his sincerity palpable. You pressed closer to him, feeling incredibly safe in his arms.
The fear was still there, a low hum in the background, but it was now overshadowed by his presence.
You pulled back slowly, your cheeks flushing slightly. The boldness of the previous confession had temporarily left you, and suddenly shyness enveloped you.
You felt the flutter of your eyelashes, the nervousness of the moment. "Can... can I kiss you?" The question was soft, barely audible, but it hung in the air between you.
Max grinned, a radiant, dazzling expression that made your heart skip a beat.
"Of course, schat," His response was immediate, filled with affection. Schat. It was a term of endearment he often used, a Dutch word meaning "treasure" or "darling," and it always made you feel safe and cherished.
You moved towards him, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding. It wasn't a passionate, desperate kiss, but a soft exploration, a gentle reaffirmation of the connection that had always been there, humming beneath the surface.
When you pulled back, your gaze locked with his, and you felt a warmth spread through you, dispelling some of the lingering fear.
“I like you, Max. A lot,” you said, your voice a little shaky, your cheeks still warm. You felt vulnerable, laying your feelings bare like this, but it also felt incredibly right.
He reached up, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I like you too, Y/N, more than you know,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection. He had waited patiently for you, had given you the space you needed, and had never once wavered in his affections.
You knew, without a doubt, that he was someone who would always be there, no matter how difficult things got.
A nervous energy seemed to buzz around him as he took in another breath, the kind that a teenager would have before asking his crush to prom.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice laced with a vulnerability that mirrored your own.
You didn’t hesitate. You nodded, your smile widening as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend,” you replied, the words flowing easily and naturally.
It felt as if that had always been the plan, like everything had been leading up to this very moment.
A relieved sigh escaped him, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his touch sending a wave of warmth along your skin.
"Great," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "Because your second present would have been awkward."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, silver object. It glinted in the dim light – a key.
“Max…” you started, confusion and a touch of incredulity mixing in your voice.
“It’s my house key, of course. You need a key to get in when I’m doing something else, like sim training,” he explained, his tone casual, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He offered the key to you, his eyes filled with an innocent earnestness.
That was the tipping point. The dam broke. You felt a lump form in your throat, and tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You were crying. Not the dramatic kind of crying, but the quiet, choked-up kind that comes from being overwhelmed by emotion.
“Schat! I’m sorry! Don’t cry,” Max said, his voice filled with concern. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You buried your face in his neck, letting the tears fall freely.
His embrace was grounding, his hand gently stroking your back, a soothing rhythm against your trembling form.
"Hey, hey," he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. "What is it? Did I say something wrong? I didn't mean to make you cry."
He sounded genuinely panicked, and a part of you felt guilty for making him worry.
You pulled back slightly, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. "No, no, it's not you," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… it’s a key, Max. And it’s such a... you thing to do.” You chuckled slightly, the sound shaky and watery.
He looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “But you need a key to get in. I mean, what if you wanted to come over and I wasn’t home yet? I wouldn’t want you to be waiting outside.”
“That’s… exactly what I meant,” you said, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. “You just… you think of everything.” The fact that he had already considered you needing the key, the fact that he was already thinking about you coming over and feeling safe… it was all just too much.
He looked at you as if he couldn't comprehend why you'd be crying at that, and that was the most endearing thing you had ever seen.
“I thought you wouldn’t like it,” he admitted, his voice small. “I wasn’t sure if it was too much, too soon. But… I really wanted you to have it. So you can feel like… you can feel like a home when I’m not home.”
His confession was raw, honest, and laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.
You reached up and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently against his cheekbones. "I love it, Max. I really love it," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "It's... it's more than I could have ever asked for."
He leaned into your touch, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not upset?” he asked, his voice still tinged with worry.
You shook your head, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “No, I’m not upset. I’m… overwhelmed. In the best way possible.” You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the reality of the moment sink in. “You’re amazing, Max.”
He mirrored your smile, his own eyes lighting up with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “So, the key?” he asked, holding it out again.
You took it from him, the metal cool against your palm. “It’s perfect,” you said, your gaze locking with his. “Thank you, Max.”
He pulled you close again, wrapping you in a tight, comforting embrace. "You're welcome, schat," he whispered, his voice muffled against your hair. "Does this mean you'll try my cooking for dinner this time. Since you'll have the key and all?"
You chuckled, leaning into his embrace. "Only if you promise not to set the kitchen on fire."
He pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. "No promises, but I'll try my best," he said with a grin.
The dim room no longer felt oppressive, but warm and safe. The fear, the uncertainty, all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of belonging, of love, of home.
You held the key, not just a key to his house, but to his heart, and suddenly, everything felt right.
You reached the doorway and stepped out, the bouquet leading the way. You expected the hushed silence of an empty hall, perhaps the echo of distant conversations. What you didn't expect was the wall of faces that greeted you.
The entire hall, which you had assumed was deserted, was lined with people, their eyes all fixed on the corner where you and Max had emerged. Their expectant gazes, a mixture of delight and curiosity, made your cheeks flush with heat.
Silence hung heavy, thick with unspoken questions, then, like a dam bursting, the cheers erupted. Shouts, whistles, and clapping filled the hall, their collective voice a tidal wave of delighted celebration.
You felt your face grow hotter, and your grip tightened on the bouquet, the stems pressing into your palm. This was not how you envisioned this moment. You had expected the awkwardness to occur in the small room, not right here, under the scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes.
You turned, your gaze searching out Max behind you. He was a study in sheepish charm, his cheeks flushed a shade darker than yours, his eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and something that looked a lot like exhilaration.
He shuffled his feet for a moment, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, before meeting your gaze with that familiar, gentle smile of his.
"They helped me confess," he said, his voice a quiet murmur that barely reached your ears over the continuing cheers, "I… I didn’t think I could do it alone.” He looked away for a brief moment before looking back into your eyes. "They knew you were in the room."
The pieces clicked into place. The hushed whispers you’d overheard earlier, the strangely insistent nudging toward the small room, the seemingly innocent way to get you to Max – it had all been meticulously orchestrated.
Your first instinct was to feel embarrassed by the blatant manipulation, but the warmth in Max’s eyes melted your irritation away. They had done it for him, and for you.
They had recognized something before you had even allowed yourself to truly believe it.
"I... They did?" You managed, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt the bouquet tremble in your hand, its vibrant colours suddenly feeling like a spotlight on your face.
He nodded, a faint grin spreading across his face. He straightened his posture and looked at you with an earnest look on his face, "Yeah. I told them how I felt about you, and they all decided that I needed a little push."
He took a small step closer, his hands coming out of his pockets to gently rest on your arms. "I know it's kind of awkward right now but..."
"Awkward?" You laughed, a surprised sound that cut through the noise. "Max, the entire office is watching us, and they're practically throwing a party. This is beyond awkward."
He chuckled softly, his thumb gently stroking your arm. "Okay, maybe slightly more than awkward, but I wouldn't change it for anything. Not now that I can finally say that I’ve been completely and utterly smitten with you for months, now that you know, and now that you… well…”
He trailed off, his eyes shifting to the flowers you held before meeting your gaze again. “You said yes. In the room. Right?"
You felt a giddy warmth spread through your chest. You did say yes, didn’t you? It had all happened so fast, the nervousness, the confession, the kiss.
Your mind, still reeling, struggled to keep up with the rapid turn of events. You hadn't really processed the magnitude of it all, not yet, not with so many eyes on you.
"Yes, Max," you said, your voice steadier this time. "I said yes."
A grin bloomed across his face, lighting up his features. It was a grin you’d seen countless times, but this one, this one felt different, more intimate, reserved just for you.
"Well you can thank them if you want to," Max grinned, gesturing vaguely to the throng of people gathered behind him.
You heard laughter and some shuffling through the crowd before Lando and Charles appeared in front of you, their grins equally wide. Their appearance, and the knowing looks in their eyes, sent a fresh wave of bewildered warmth through you.
"Hey Y/N! I'm guessing he finally did it," Lando teased, nudging Max playfully in the ribs.
"No way! You knew too?" you asked, surprised. You had genuinely thought Max’s clumsy confession and the subsequent proposal were a spontaneous act, an outpouring of feelings he could no longer contain.
The revelation that it had been a calculated performance added another layer of bewilderment.
"Of course, I did! I helped with it the most," Lando declared proudly, puffing out his chest slightly.
Charles immediately scoffed. "No mate, I did," he said, matching Lando’s posture with narrowed eyes. He crossed his arms, clearly in the mood for a playful argument.
"Actually it was Daniel that thought of most of it," Max corrected, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched his friends bicker.
"Daniel?" you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Daniel Ricciardo? The notoriously jovial Australian was the mastermind behind this entire thing?
You were beginning to feel like you were living in some bizarre, slightly surreal rom-com.
Just then, the door opened from the other side of the room and a familiar voice boomed, "Heya! Am I too late?"
You turned to see Daniel standing in the doorway, his signature grin plastered on his face.
"Nope Daniel, you're just in time," Max yelled back, his voice full of genuine joy. The room was suddenly buzzing with life, with laughter and light, and you felt a strange sense of belonging, of being caught up in something bigger than just you and Max.
You took a shaky breath, grounding yourself in the reality of the moment. He was yours, and you, in a dizzying but wonderful twist of fate, were his.
"Okay, so here's the thing," Daniel started, clapping his hands together in a way that demanded attention. "Max came to us, months ago, practically begging for help. He was a lovesick puppy moping about how amazing you were and how he was too scared to actually do anything about it."
Your cheeks flushed crimson, the image of the usually confident Max reduced to a moping puppy both adorable and hilarious.
You glanced at him, a playful smirk forming on your lips. He just shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face.
"We tried subtle hints, we tried blatant pushes, we even tried a completely ridiculous interpretive dance,” Charles interjected, his face scrunching up in a grimace. “That was… not our finest hour."
"Oh god, please don't remind me of that" Lando said, cringing slightly, "we were terrible"
"And finally," Daniel continued, "after months of agonizing, Max decided he was going to pull out the big guns so to speak." He winked at you. "Hence the very public, yet very romantic, proposal."
"It wasn't that public!" Max protested, but his voice held no real conviction. "Only like, half the paddock knew about it."
"Yeah, half the paddock who all happen to be great conversationalists," you said, laughing.
You wrapped your arm around Max's waist, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours.
"So, you knew?" You looked at Max, a hint of accusation in your eyes.
"I… might have had a little bit of help," he admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “But the feelings, those were one hundred percent mine, Y/N. Every single smitten, completely ridiculous, hopelessly in love bit of them. I just…” he paused, his gaze searching yours for something.
“I really wanted it to be special. For you.”
Your heart skipped a beat. He was looking at you, the way a person looks at home, with a mixture of comfort and longing.
The room faded into the background and it was just you, and him, the weight of everything that had just transpired, and the overwhelming happiness swelling in your chest.
"Well, it was special," you said softly, and then, just for him, you added. "It was perfect."
He leaned in and kissed you. It was soft, gentle, like the first kiss all over again, but with a depth that the first hadn’t held. He pulled away, his thumb caressing your cheek.
"So, you really said yes?" He asked again, a playful lilt in his voice.
"Yes, Max," you laughed. "I really said yes. And you can thank your friends all you want but I was saying yes to you, to us. Not them."
You looked at the friends, still standing there and smiling and you could see that, despite the playful teasing and back and forth, they all seemed genuinely happy for you.
And in that moment, you knew that this room, those people, this bizarre and wonderful moment, was where you belonged. You were surrounded by people who loved you, who cared for you, and who were just as excited about your future as you were.
But most importantly, you were with him, the man who had made you feel like the most cherished person in the world. . . .
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The worn floral print of Christian and Geri’s spare bedroom felt a little too familiar, a little too much like a childhood bedroom you’d long outgrown. The chipped paint on the windowsill, the baby blue coloured walls – they all seemed to be silently judging the contents of the open suitcase on the floor.
It was a suitcase, you realized with a sigh, that Olivia, a tiny force of nature with bright eyes and a stubborn chin, was currently using as a rather uncomfortable throne.
“No!” she declared, her voice small but firm. Her little legs, clad in rainbow-striped leggings, were splayed across the suitcase, effectively barring any further attempts at packing. “You can’t leave!”
You fought the urge to smile, a knot of tenderness and exasperation tightening in your chest. You loved Olivia like she was your own niece, which she was in all but blood.
You’d spent countless evenings reading her stories, building Lego castles, and braiding her unruly hair. It was going to be hard leaving, harder than you’d anticipated.
You sat on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning beneath you. “Why can’t I leave, Liv?” you asked, your tone gentle. You already knew the answer, but you needed to hear her say it.
Her brow furrowed, a miniature version of Geri’s expression when she was deep in thought. “Because… you make the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “And you always let me pick the movie.”
It was a weak argument, but it was hers. A genuine, heartfelt argument against your departure. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.
“I taught you how to make your own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, remember?” you pointed out, teasing lightly. “And I promise, Max and I will invite you over for movie nights. We just won’t have this giant, comfy bed.”
Her eyes widened, the argument about sandwiches forgotten. “Max’s house has a giant bed?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.
“Well,” you said, chuckling, “It’s big enough for him and me, but maybe we can squish you in sometimes.”
You immediately regretted it when her face lit up, all thoughts of your departure suddenly focused on whether this “giant bed” would be a good place to jump.
You were about to derail the entire thing, even before you’d managed to pack a single pair of socks.
Olivia bounced off the suitcase, her earlier resistance seemingly forgotten. “Can we go now?!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with anticipation. “I want to see Max’s giant bed!”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Not yet, sweetie. I still need to pack, remember? And anyway, you'll have to ask your mom and dad if you're allowed to go over to Max's.”
The thought of Max, his warm smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, always warmed you from the inside out.
Moving in together felt like the most natural thing in the world, a gentle step forward in a relationship that had blossomed so effortlessly.
“Oh, okay,” Olivia said, her enthusiasm slightly dampened but still there. She plopped down on the bed next to you, her back leaning against you. “But you can’t forget to pack the sparkly socks you let me borrow!”
You reached out and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry, they're not on my packing list,” You said, hoping she wouldn't notice how your hand was shaking a little.
It had felt like an eternity since you'd found the little courage to break from the "safe" life you'd built, the one where you were just their 'friend' who lived at Christian and Geri's.
It had felt like an eternity since you'd allowed yourself to feel this happy.
She was quiet for a moment, her little face serious. “I’m going to miss you, you know,” she said in a small voice. It wasn’t a whiny statement, but it was filled with a heartbreaking honesty that tugged at you.
You leaned in and hugged her tight. “I’m going to miss you too, Liv,” you mumbled into her hair, the scent of strawberries and sunshine filling your nose.
"But it’s not goodbye forever. I'll still be around. We’ll have so many sleepovers. And I'm not all the way gone yet. We can bake cookies and do crafts and watch shows together. Okay?”
She nodded against you, and the silence stretched for a moment, the only sounds the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the low rumble of a car passing on the street outside.
You could feel her small hand gripping the edge of your t-shirt, her grip surprisingly strong despite her size. You were so grateful to have her. What would you do without them all? The thought of leaving now seemed more daunting than it had an hour ago.
“You like Max, right?�� Olivia asked, finally breaking the silence.
You tensed. You hadn't expected that question. It caught you off guard, though you knew she wasn’t going to pry. She was just a kid, trying to understand the changes happening around her.
“Yeah, Liv. I like Max a lot,” you admitted, your voice soft. You wondered if she could hear the smile in your voice. It was a simple statement, but it carried so much weight.
It was more than just liking him. It was the easy way he fit into your life, the way he understood your vulnerabilities and supported your dreams, the way he made you feel like the most important person in the world. You loved him.
Olivia nodded, her gaze fixed on her hands. "He's nice I guess," she conceded grudgingly.
Her head snapped up, her eyes widening. “Really?” Her voice was full of surprise, a spark of genuine interest finally flicking to life behind her eyes.
“Yeah! He said he wanted to do it for all of your friends, like a big group thing as a surprise.” you beamed at her.
The tension in the room seemed to lessen slightly. Olivia’s shoulders relaxed, her small frown softening. She actually looked… curious.
“He’s doing that?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief. “That’s… nice.”
“See?” you said, a playful tone creeping into your voice. “He is! He’s not just some random boyfriend, Liv. He’s actually pretty amazing.”
She finally looked up at you, a small smile playing on her lips. “I guess. It's just… it’s going to be really different without you here.”
“I know,” you said, your heart clenching slightly at the thought of leaving your shared space. “But it's not like I'm moving to another country. We can still hang out whenever you want.”
“Yeah, I know,” she mumbled, picking at a loose thread on her skirt.
“And,” you added, hoping to lighten the mood further, “Max said we could do movie nights at his house after the season is over. Your movie pick would be first.”
“Really?” Her smile grew a bit wider. “He said that?”
“Yep! He’s actually really excited to have you all over. He thinks you’re cool, you know.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly. “He does?”
You chuckled. “Yeah, Liv. He’s not some monster trying to steal me away. He just… makes me happy.”
She sighed, the last vestiges of her earlier frustration seeming to melt away. “Okay, okay. I get it. He sounds like a decent boyfriend. And a big Moana fan.”
“He kind of is,” you said, grinning. You picked up another outfit from the wardrobe. “Hey, do you want to watch Peppa Pig while I finish packing? Or do you have a better suggestion?”
Olivia's face brightened. “Oh yes please! But only if we have pizza after you finish.”
You laughed, relieved. “Deal,” you said.
The melody pulsed through you, a vibrant current that mirrored the excitement fizzing in your stomach. “Ik sloeg mijn ogen open, knipperde wat en de lucht leek helder, hij wil dat ik hem geloof nu…” you sang, the Dutch words rolling off your tongue with a practiced ease.
You weren't fluent, not by a long shot, but you'd been diligently working on your pronunciation, fueled by a secret desire to impress Max.
Your phone, perched precariously on a stack of books, continued to belt out the infectious pop tune by a Dutch artist you'd discovered.
You grabbed the last stray top from your drawer, a soft, faded blue, and made your way back to your suitcase, which lay open and waiting on your bed.
“Als ik schrik van hem, kom ik niet meer zo dichtbij als ik zou willen,” you continued, a small smile playing on your lips.
You envisioned Max’s reaction, the surprise in his eyes, maybe even a chuckle, when he heard you singing in his native tongue. You'd been teasing him about learning Dutch for weeks, a little game to keep the anticipation of this visit high.
You carefully folded the top, fitting it neatly into the already packed case. The song reached its crescendo, a final flourish of synth and pounding drums before fading out.
The silence that followed felt… different. Too sudden. You were about to reach for your phone, to put on something else, when the sound of slow, deliberate clapping startled you.
Your heart leaped into your throat, and you spun around, a gasp escaping your lips.
There, leaning against your bedroom doorframe, stood Max. His arms were crossed over his chest, a knowing smirk playing on his face.
He looked effortlessly handsome, like he had just stepped out of a magazine. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes were sparkling with amusement.
“Max!” you exclaimed, your hand flying to your chest. “How long have you been standing there?” Your face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and sheer joy.
You hadn't expected him until much later in the day, and the element of surprise was nearly overwhelming.
He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into your room, his gaze lingering on you. “Long enough to witness a very impressive performance,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.
“Your Dutch is… well, it’s coming along.” There was a teasing note in his voice, but also something else, a hint of genuine admiration that made your stomach flip.
“Oh god,” you groaned, your cheeks burning a fiery red. “You heard all of that? It was awful, probably.” You started to fidget with your shirt, feeling terribly self-conscious.
Max chuckled, a sound you loved. “Awful? I thought you sounded like a natural.” He walked closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You know, ‘ik schrik van hem, kom ik niet meer zo dichtbij als ik zou willen’ is quite a romantic line. What does it mean?”
Your mind raced, trying to translate the words without sounding like a bumbling fool. “Uh, it’s… it’s something like… ‘if I am scared of him, I won’t come as close as I would like to’,” you mumbled, your gaze dropping to your feet.
He stopped in front of you, tilting your chin gently up with his finger. His touch sent a jolt through you, making you forget, for a moment, how silly you probably looked.
“Scared of me?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of concern.
You shook your head quickly, “No, of course not! It’s just the song. I was just trying to get the pronunciation right.” You felt your face growing even hotter.
“Well, you were certainly dedicated,” he said with a smile. “And I must confess, it was rather charming.” He stepped around you to look at the open suitcase.
"You're almost done?" Max asked, turning back to you with that smile that always made your heart flutter.
You nodded, still slightly dazed, thinking, how did you even get in?
As if reading your mind, Max let out another chuckle. "Your sister let me in and gave me a 10 minute lecture of how to take care of you, I already feel like a better boyfriend," he said with a smile, a playful glint in his eyes.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Olivia peek her head in before getting caught and running off, a stifled laugh echoing from the hallway.
You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Olivia and her dramatic theatrics were a constant in your life.
“She’s ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.
He held your hand delicately, his touch sending a familiar warmth through you. His fingers intertwined with yours, a silent reassurance.
"Are you sure you're ready to move in with me, schat?" he asked, his voice soft, laced with a tenderness that always made your heart melt.
A wave of emotion washed over you, a mixture of excitement and a slight trepidation. Officially moving in with Max was a step, a big one, and the reality of it finally sank in.
This wasn't just a casual dating thing anymore; it was a commitment, a joining of lives, a leap into the unknown with the person you loved most.
“Ik ben meer dan klaar om met jou te leven,” you responded in Dutch, the words flowing smoothly, a secret language just for the two of you. I am more than ready to live with you.
Max grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He loved the way your native tongue sounded, the way the words rolled off your tongue, the intimacy of a language he didn't quite understand but felt deeply.
"God, you have to speak more of it later, okay?" he muttered, his voice low and slightly husky, a look of genuine adoration in his eyes. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.
“Of course, Liefje,” you smiled, leaning into his embrace, the word darling slipping naturally off your tongue.
His scent, a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely his, filled your senses, and you felt safe, secure, like you were exactly where you were meant to be.
You tilted your head back, looking up at him. "I can't believe this is actually happening," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "Me neither," he confessed, "but I’m really excited. We're going to make a home together."
You laughed, the tension easing from your shoulders. He had a way of making even the most daunting things feel like an adventure. "I can already see the chaos unfolding," you joked. "And I actually can't wait for it."
"Good, because I have a feeling it's going to be one hell of a ride," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
He released you from the hug but kept your hand in his, guiding you towards the door. "Come on, let's get out of here. I’ve already loaded the other suitcase and Geri is waiting with lots of snacks for the road. Plus, I’m sure Olivia has something dramatic planned as your departure performance.”
As you walked out of your room, the weight of the move, the finality of it all, settled in. You glanced back at the empty space, a small pang in your chest.
It was a chapter closed, a book put back on the shelf, ready for the next story to begin.
Downstairs, Geri engulfed you in a hug, a mixture of sadness and happiness in her eyes. Olivia was holding a tissue to her face, fake sobbing, dramatically letting the tissue fall to the floor as she pretended to faint.
“Oh please,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.
“This is a great occasion,” Geri chuckled, “A bittersweet one. I’m so happy for you two, truly, but seeing you leave is definitely a change.”
“Don’t worry, Geri, I’ll come back whenever you need me,” you said, giving her another hug. “And you can always visit.”
“Of course,” your mom said softly. "I’ve already planned the Christmas dinner to be at your new place. I expect you two to work hard making it a home,”
You laughed and turned to Max. "Ready to go?" you asked, a genuine smile lighting up your face.
He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance. "Always," he said, his eyes full of affection.
You took one last look at your home for a few months, a place filled with memories, both good and bad. Then you turned away.
The future was here, waiting for you, and you were ready to embrace it, hand in hand with the man you loved.
The car ride was filled with laughter and excited chatter. Max’s hand rested on your thigh, a comforting weight that grounded you. You listened to him talk about his plans for the apartment, how he envisioned you both filling it with your personalities.
He told you about painting the kitchen walls and adding some of your favorite books. Your heart swelled with affection.
It was going to be perfect.
Arriving at the apartment, you were greeted with the sight of Max's place, and it was better than you had imagined. It was filled with light and open spaces, with a balcony overlooking a small park. This space, your space, was waiting for you to make it a home.
You took a deep breath, the feeling of anticipation and joy bubbling in your chest.
Max looked at you. "What do you think?" he asked, his eyes filled with a touch of nervousness.
You turned to him, your heart overflowing. "It's perfect," you said, your voice soft, filled with love. "Absolutely perfect."
And you knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within your soul, that this was where you were meant to be. This was the start of your next chapter, and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.
As Max took your hand and pulled you inside, his smile telling you everything you needed to know, you knew, that this was home.
The key turned in the lock with a satisfying click, and the door swung inward, revealing the entryway of your new life together. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, eager spirits.
You stepped inside, and for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. It wasn't just a house; it was a testament to shared dreams, a physical manifestation of the love you and Max had carefully cultivated.
Your gaze immediately lifted, drawn to the soaring vaulted ceiling, the exposed beams a rich, dark wood that contrasted beautifully with the soft, off-white walls. You ran your hand along the smooth plaster, marveling at the craftsmanship.
Your feet carried you forward, deeper into the house, your suitcase forgotten by the door. You traced the curve of an archway that led to what you assumed was the living room, then peeked into a cozy nook tucked away near the kitchen, already imagining long evenings curled up there with a book.
You explored each room as if it were a precious artifact, finding beauty in every detail. The kitchen was a chef’s dream, with a large island, gleaming countertops, and a pantry that seemed to stretch on forever.
Sunlight streamed through the large, almost floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining area, promising sun-drenched breakfasts and candlelit dinners. You could already picture yourselves here, laughing and creating memories in the home that belonged to both of you.
You were so thoroughly captivated you hadn't even noticed Max watching you from the entryway, his eyes filled with an adoration that made your heart melt. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
Finally, you completed your impromptu tour, circling back to the entryway practically vibrating with excitement. You turned to him, your eyes wide, a genuine smile lighting up your face.
“What do you think, schat?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with anticipation.
You didn’t hesitate, your heart full to bursting. “Liefje, it’s amazing,” you breathed out, the Dutch term of endearment rolling off your tongue with ease. It was more than amazing; it was everything you had ever hoped for, and more. It felt like coming home.
He pushed himself off the doorframe and came towards you, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his smile widening. “I knew you would. I’ve spent weeks picturing you here.” He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin.
“Picture me here?” you teased, tilting your head. “Doing what?”
He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Reading in that little nook, probably. Or cooking up a storm in that kitchen. And dancing, maybe? We have plenty of space for that now.”
You laughed, imagining the possibilities. “Dancing, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Are you going to finally teach me the tango?”
“Maybe,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But first things first: we need to get your suitcase inside before someone mistakes it for an abandoned piece of luggage.” He gestured towards the forgotten suitcase with a playful wink.
You blushed slightly, realizing how completely you had gotten caught up in the moment. “Oh, right.” You turned to grab your suitcase, but he was already there, easily lifting it as if it were weightless.
“Let me take care of that,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’ve been exploring; I’ll be your pack mule.”
You followed him further into the living room, placing your case near a large, plush couch. He placed his suitcase next to yours, the gesture a small symbol of the life together you were building. “So, what’s next?” you asked, feeling a jolt of excitement run through you.
“Well,” he said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I was thinking we could unpack? Then maybe open a bottle of wine? And then…” He paused, drawing out the word. “Then we officially break in the house.”
You laughed, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “Break in the house? What does that exactly entail?”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Well, I was thinking… we could christen each room. One by one.”
Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you caught the meaning behind his suggestive tone. “Max!” you exclaimed, with a mixture of embarrassment and delight, your heart rate picked up from his words.
He laughed again, the sound warm and comforting. “What? It’s a big house; it needs to be properly inaugurated, don’t you think?”
“Maybe after we pack...” you began, your smile matching his mischievous one.
The next few hours were a flurry of activity, filled with unpacking, laughter, and the occasional stolen kiss. You found yourself working seamlessly alongside Max, each of you knowing exactly what to do, a testament to the quiet harmony you shared.
You unpacked your clothes, placing them side by side in the spacious wardrobe; you organized your things in the bathroom, your toiletries now lined up next to his. It was amazing how quickly this space was becoming a home, a reflection of the life you were building.
As the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows across the house, you collapsed onto the sofa, finally allowing yourself to relax. Max joined you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you close. You nestled into his side, the warmth of his body a familiar comfort.
He opened a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. He handed one to you, and you clinked them together. “To new beginnings,” he said, his eyes locking with yours.
“To new beginnings,” you echoed, taking a slow sip of the wine. The taste was rich and smooth, a perfect complement to the moment.
You looked around the living room, now slowly filling with your presence. It was cozy, inviting, and overflowing with possibilities. Soon it would be filled with the sounds of your laughter and the echoes of your life together.
You turned to Max, his face illuminated in the soft glow of the setting sun. “Max,” you said, your voice filled with emotion, “thank you. For everything.”
He smiled, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart swell with adoration. “You don’t have to thank me, schat. This is just the start.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss. “And I can’t wait to see where this journey takes us.”
The news hit you like a rogue wave, leaving you gasping for air. "My mom and sister are coming over in two days," Max had said, his voice casual as he stirred the pasta sauce. He hadn’t looked at you, too focused on the simmering pot, and for a moment, the kitchen seemed to shrink, the walls closing in.
Two days. . . .
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mindless-existence1 · 3 days ago
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Hiii!! I wanted to request a shadow x fem! reader who in the movie verse is a college student that found shadow and now partly takes care of him. Knowing shadow, he’d still be a loner but I’d like to think having an another younger female influence in his life could help him with Maria’s passing. I also think it’d be super cute if she taught him gen z/modern things. He’s just too precious in the movie omg☹️❤️
Authors note: I love Shadow he's my boy. Also I didn't come up with how they met so this is just them hanging out in readers apartment watching a movie together
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Your apartment in Green Hills wasn’t anything fancy—just a modest space with a small kitchen, a worn but comfortable couch, and a TV that sometimes acted up. But it was home, and apparently, Shadow thought so too.
The first time he came over, it had been an unexpected visit. You’d found him on your balcony, his crimson eyes scanning the street below like he was waiting for something to go wrong. You’d invited him in, unsure if he’d accept, but he had.
Since then, Shadow had started dropping by when he needed to escape the chaos of the world—or his own thoughts. Tonight was one of those nights.
He was sprawled on your couch, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softened by the dim light of the TV. You had a movie playing, some action-packed thriller that you thought he’d enjoy. But Shadow seemed more interested in quietly existing in the moment.
“Popcorn?” you offered, holding out a bowl as you curled up on the other end of the couch.He glanced at it skeptically. “I don’t understand humans’ obsession with this.”
“You say that every time, and yet you always eat it,” you teased, shaking the bowl slightly. Shadow’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile, and he reached out to grab a handful.
As the movie played, you got caught up in the action. One scene showed the protagonists making a mistake that ended in a dramatic explosion. You couldn’t help but comment, “Oh man, those guys are cooked.”
Shadow’s ears twitched, and he turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowed. “Cooked? They’re not being prepared as food.”
You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation. “No, it’s slang,” you explained. “It means they’re done for, like there’s no coming back from that.”
He frowned, clearly processing your words. “Why use a term that implies food preparation instead of saying what you mean?”
“Because slang is fun, and it makes language more expressive,” you said, grinning. “Besides, it’s just how people talk sometimes.” Shadow huffed, leaning back against the couch. “Humans are strange.”
“And yet, you keep coming here,” you shot back with a playful smile.Shadow didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the screen, but the corners of his mouth softened just slightly.
“Your apartment is… peaceful,” he said finally. Your chest warmed at his words. Shadow wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings, so every little admission felt significant.
“Well, you’re always welcome here,” you said, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “Even if you think popcorn and slang are weird.” He didn’t reply, but his crimson eyes flicked toward you for a moment, a quiet gratitude in his gaze.
By the time the credits rolled, you were explaining another piece of slang—this time, “vibe.��� Shadow looked vaguely unimpressed.
“So, when someone says ‘good vibes,’ they mean a positive feeling or atmosphere?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.“Exactly!” you said, grinning. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”
He shook his head, muttering something about “unnecessary complications,” but you just shook your head with a small smile. As the night wore on, you found yourself leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder.
He didn’t move away, simply letting you stay there as the quiet hum of the TV filled the room.
In these moments, you knew Shadow found something he didn’t often allow himself: peace. And for as long as he needed it, you’d always make room for him in your little corner of Green Hills.
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lovedrruunk · 2 days ago
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'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part v]
powder finally made it to the hangout stage (good for her!), and guess she never really realized how good talking to you one on one would feel. [part iv]
✩°。⋆⸜ 🎧✮ < banger song inspo!!
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Powder shuffled along the stone sidewalk, her head down and her hands buried in her worn jacket pockets. The town square was deafening. The noise of it all was something she just couldn’t seem to get adjusted to. Sure, the undercity was loud, people yelling, arguing, running, sounds she was used to, sounds easy to block out. But this?
Easy laughter, happy chatter, meaningless conversation just for the sake of it. It was like a ringing in her ear, irritating her brain as if she wasn’t meant to hear it, like her ears weren’t developed enough to process it. 
Looking up at the people passing by she noticed how all of their faces were unfamiliar. Either she’d never met them, never looked them in the eye, or had totally forgotten about them. She wanted to feel bad about it but she just… couldn’t. All the faces here seemed so generic, like NPCs in a video game. Every face just seemed like a blur. Every face but one.
“Powder!”
And suddenly the ringing in her ear stopped. Your face wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t part of the background. It was clear, vivid, impossible to ignore. You were smiling at her, waving like you’d been waiting to see her. For a second, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just stood there like an idiot, staring back. 
It happened. In less than a week, the interaction she’d dreamed of had… actually happened.
It was a weird feeling, to watch the scene she pictured in her head constantly play out before her in real time. You called her name and waved her hello, because you knew her, because you were here to see her this time, not the baker, not the merchant, not your neighbors. The realization made her lips twitch upward and before she could stop herself, a goofy smile spread across her face. She probably looked ridiculous, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Sorry, did I make you wait long?” You asked, catching your breath.
“No, don't worry, I just got here.” She said quickly, shaking her head.
It was a total lie of course. She had been waiting long, long enough to overthink, to second-guess whether she should’ve shown up at all, and to count the cracks in the sidewalk. But it didn’t matter now. You were here, and somehow, that made the waiting feel insignificant, like it had been worth it.
You smiled, not questioning her answer, and pointed down the street casually. “I was thinking we could head down to the river.” you said, like the thought had just popped into your head. “It’s quieter there. I know the noise here can be a lot sometimes.”
Powder blinked, startled by how easily you seemed to know her, like you’d figured out something she hadn’t even put into words yet herself. She hesitated for a moment, her hands still shoved deep into her pockets, before nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”
You started walking, and she followed you without a word, just like she always had. Except this time she wasn’t sneaking around, because you had been walking together. At first, it felt strange. Her pace awkward, her head down, unsure of what to say or do. But you didn’t seem bothered by her silence, didn’t rush her to keep up or pressure her to fill the space between you. You just…walked, calm and easy, without a second thought.
The town square got quieter and quieter, replaced by the faint sounds of nature, birds chirping, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the distant sound of flowing water. Powder glanced up as they rounded a corner, catching the sight of the river. 
The water wasn’t super deep where you guys were, she could see the smooth rocks under the water from afar, some sticking out a little. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen water this clean or blue. The sun was out, but not in an annoying way. Just enough to keep things warm without making her squint. The wind was nice too, just enough to ruffle her hair, the perfect balance of warm and cool. The only sounds she could hear now was the soft splashing of water and chirping of birds 
For a second, she thought about how different it felt here. Like the world had slowed down just for you two. She glanced over at you and caught you smiling, like you’d been here a thousand times, like this was just another day for you.
When you reached the riverbank, you didn’t hesitate. You spotted a bench with a clear view of the water, sat down like it was your favorite spot in the world, and gestured for her to join you.
“See? Way better.” you said with a grin, stretching lazily.
Powder lingered for a second, her eyes flicking between the bench and the water, before finally sitting down. Stiffly. Like she’d never sat down a day in her life, or like the bench might break just to spite her. She looked around, her arms stuck to her sides, half expecting something to go wrong.
But nothing did.
The river kept flowing, and the trees kept swaying. The world didn’t seem to care that she was sitting there, that she felt out of place.
And then there was you.
You didn’t seem to care either, not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel like it didn’t matter if she was awkward or didn’t know what to say. You were just… there. Sitting beside her, relaxed, watching the water like it was the only thing that mattered.
Powder shifted slightly, her arms relaxing a little. She wasn’t used to quiet like this, the kind that wasn’t filled with tension or internal voices, the kind that didn’t demand anything from her.
She still felt a little off, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But for the first time in a while, it felt like maybe… maybe nothing had to go wrong.
“So, how are you liking the town?” You asked, breaking the silence.
She thought about it for a bit. It was such a simple question yet she had no idea how to answer it. Where would she begin? It was nice sure, peaceful, lively, the perfect place to settle, but how did she like it? Guess she never really thought about it. 
She liked her cabin. She made it her own and it felt nice to have a place to herself. She liked the market, even though she was always quick to scurry out of there. She liked the kids in town, she’d sometimes linger by a little longer and listen in on their conversations. Sometimes they’d be arguing over something stupid like who won which game, other times they’d be happily chasing each other around. She liked you, of course.
Sometimes she wondered what it would’ve been like if she had moved here earlier, before everything went wrong. It was a selfish thought really, but one she found herself often staying up picturing. Afterall, she knew someone who would’ve loved to play with the kids in town. She would’ve liked you too, would’ve liked this new life.
“It’s nice.” She muttered, keeping her eyes on the moving water. 
“Seriously…? That’s it?” 
That made her chuckle. She turned her head to look at you with a small smile and furrowed brows.
“What? It is nice.” She exclaimed
You stayed silent, rolling your eyes with a small ‘hmph’ looking away. 
“It’s also… new.” She continued after a small bit of silence. “Believe it or not, I’d never seen a forest before coming here… oh, or water this pretty.” she added absentmindedly as she took in their surroundings.
“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask. Where did you live before you came here?” You asked curiously as you turned to look at her again.
There it was, the dreaded question. Well, one of them. There were a lot of questions she was dreading. But she figured this one would come up sooner than later. 
It wasn’t like Zaun was known for its great living conditions.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, she didn’t know how you’d react to her being from somewhere so… Scary? Dirty? Horrible?... she figured any one of those could work. A part of her was tempted to lie, say she was from Piltover or somewhere else that's fancy and shiny, but she knew she couldn’t do that to you, lying now? So early into your conversation? No way. And besides, she doubted she could stomach the idea of calling herself a Piltie.
Her throat felt dry, and her voice came out quieter than she intended.
“I… I’m from Zaun.”
“From where now?”
“The Undercity.”
There was a pause.
“Piltover.”
Still nothing.
She blinked at you, deadpan. “The ‘City of Progress’?”
Your expression lit up in sudden recognition. “Oh! With the Hex Portals?”
She didn’t even have the heart to correct you… 
Your confusion confused her, but she wasn’t exactly mad about it. It was... surprising, in a good way. Guess all that worrying was for nothing. She couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in your cluelessness, like it drew an even thicker line between her past and her present.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” you said, your voice casual like this was just small talk. “Hm. It’s a long way from here, though. What made you leave?”
Her body stiffened. What was it with you and these dreaded questions? She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting back to the river.
As much as she wanted to be annoyed at you for asking the one thing she wanted to avoid, she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t the question that was the problem, it was her answer. Anyone else might’ve taken it as a casual, perfectly normal thing to ask. The issue wasn’t you. The issue was her.
She opened her mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing felt right. Her chest tightened
Thankfully, you seemed to catch on to her hesitation. Your voice softened. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I get it.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until that moment. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she gave you a small nod, grateful you didn’t push for more.
“Well,” you continued, leaning back on the bench with a smile “whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here now,”
She smiled again, her heart warm-
“even though you were kinda creepy at first.”
“What!?” Her head snapped towards you.
“Why is this surprising? You were like totally stalking me. Kinda had me worried.” You said casually with a laugh.
“Well- I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” She said defensively. “I just thought you were cool…”
Your teasing grin faltered, replaced by a look of surprise.
You blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh.”
Powder winced, feeling like she’d just made things worse.
“Oh?” she repeated, nervously twisting her fingers together.
“Sorry, just didn’t expect that.” you said, your voice softer now, glancing down at the ground.
Her eyes darted away. “Was that... weird to say?”
“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean,” You laughed a little, still processing. “I didn’t think I’d come off as cool to anyone, let alone you.”
Her brows furrowed, she almost looked…offended. “Why not?”
You shrugged, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know. I think I’m pretty average overall. My life’s pretty mundane.” You said looking towards the sky absentmindedly. “No mysterious backstory, no crazy hair.” You finished with a laugh as you looked back at her again, only to be taken aback when you were met with a stern face.
“That’s what makes you cool.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You just sat there staring at one another. Her face still serious and yours all the more surprised. 
“If you say so…”
Powder nodded sharply. “I do say so.”
Then you smiled, like you weren’t sure whether to laugh or say thank you
“Well... thanks, I guess,” you said finally.
.     .     .
The sun was starting to set now, the gentle sound of the river filled the quiet, and Powder found herself feeling lighter than she had in a long time.
“It’s nice here,” she said, almost to herself.
You glanced over at her. “Yeah. It is.”
You leaned forward, tilting your head to get a good look at her. “We should do this again sometime. Y’know, hang out.”
Powder blinked, looking over at you. The casual way you said it made her chest ache in that strange, unfamiliar way again. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”
You smiled at her, a small, genuine one that made her stomach flip. Then you stood up, stretching contently.
“Come on,” you said, reaching out a hand to her. “We should head back before it gets dark. Can’t have you tripping over something.”
Powder rolled her eyes, smiling back. “I’ll have you know, I’m very good at walking.”
“Yuh huh,” you teased, grabbing her hand to pull her up anyway. “Whatever you say creep.”
“Ugh.”
. . .
"next part will def be out before new years!" i said knowing damn well it wouldnt be LMAO guys pls i have a life outside of tumblr OH MY DAYSSSS shocker ik
anyways sry this took long (i rewrote it TWICE) im actually not thattt happy with it STOP I CAN ALREADY HEAR THE BOOS AND TOMATOES BEING THROWN ik guys im never satisfied BUT TO POST SOMETHING I TRULY LIKE IT WOULD TAKE A WHOLE 2 MONTHS AT LEAST
ALSO THE STORY IS COMING TO AN ENDDD IM HEARTBROKEN TOO BUT BUT BUT DW I still plan on writing for this "au" or wtv, ill make a separate post explaining why/how ;P
THX SM FOR STILL READING I LOVEEEEEE U GUYSSS BYEBYE XOXOXO KISSKISSKISS
p.s ik jinx leaving zaun before act 2 wouldve been pointless cuz she needed the closure i just wanted to write abt her thinking abt it ;P
notes r appreciated ofc (˶ > ₃ < ˶)
[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]
@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers
[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟;)]
@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv @luvs4rc0r3
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tanadrin · 3 days ago
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I am sorry for the anon but I feel too vulnerable to come off due to the nature of my question.
I am slowly losing friends due to my refusal to engage in negative/nihilistic/doomer views of the future. My friends are 1000% convinced Trump and Republicans are going to crash the economy on purpose, leading to a depression, and carry out a Gilead situation. I told one of my friends the other day how, despite everything and the political situation, I am trying to be as positive as possible - or at least neutral. Her response to me was, "Why? I don't understand your optimism. You know they're going to enslave us all like in The Handmaid's Tale, right?" and it has become so dreadful now to interact with them. Anytime I disagree, they try to intellectually dominate me or put me under them in a way where I have no choice but to just leave the conversation.
I know this was a lot. But is there any advice you might have for someone like me? Because I sometimes feel like I am being painted as crazy. I know things will be hard but they genuinely want me to believe I have no future and I can't stand that.
Also, would it be too much to ask if you maybe mind sharing some of the other people/blogs you follow?
I once heard advice on dealing with Qanon family members who had fallen down the rabbit hole and only ever wanted to talk about conspiracy theories or the outrage bait they'd seen on Fox News or OANN or whatever, about not challenging them on their views but basically saying "I don't want to talk about this; let's talk about our plans for the weekend, or what movie we wanna go see later, or what interesting books you've read lately." The idea being, arguing with someone can only further entrench their beliefs, and if you really want to shake someone out of their dismal universe of conspiracism, it helps to remind them of all the things that aren't the fear-and-anger-activating content they're stuffing their brains with for hours every day.
Maybe something like this could help? I have a hard time imagining that someone really believes The Handmaid's Tale really is just around the corner--if you really believed that, surely you would be trying to flee to Canada or doing some political volunteer work or something--and sometimes doomer stuff can be kind of reflexive or phatic, like making a crack about how your retirement plan is to die in the water wars or something. But even if it isn't, I don't think there's any point in trying to argue about this stuff in the moment. Instead try to build on the things you still find fulfilling in that friendship, the conversations and interests and activities with those friends that caused you to become friends in the first place.
If you can't do that--if hanging out with them is always a constant grind of full-throttle doomerism, and they express no interest in actually trying to do something with their feelings of anger and frustration--you are perfectly within your rights to spend less time around them. You could, if you wanted to and you felt that you owed them at least that, give them a heads up as to why. If a close friend of mine or a family member was doing this, I would certainly talk to them about it. But your obligation to subject yourself to someone else's self-destructive idee fixe is not bottomless. Even with a partner you are within your rights to eventually say "I'm not going to talk about this with you anymore."
(And that's not only true of politics or conspiracy theories, by the way! If you have a close friend or family member or partner who--for example--has severe depression but refuses to seek treatment for it, you are not obligated to be the sponge for their misery forever every time they need someone to talk to. If someone in your life is in a relationship or a job that is making them miserable, and won't do anything to leave that relationship or find a new job, and just wants a friend to complain to, you are within your rights to eventually shut that down. Lots of people fall into a holding pattern in their life where they are unhappy but unable to do anything about it, and they will make this their friends' or loved ones' problem. That doesn't make them bad people: lord knows I have found myself doing this before. It's a very human thing to do. But sometimes the Good Friend Thing is to say "I love you, and will support you if you want to actually *do something* about your situation, but otherwise, oh my god shut the fuck up." But, you know, nicely.)
But if your friends want to make themselves miserable because hanging on to an endless stream of toxicity and doomerism from social media (and I will bet this is primarily coming from social media) is more important to them than your friendship, and they can't handle you not agreeing with them, you may lose them as friends. If you do, I'm sorry. That sucks. It's hard to lose friends, and it's even harder later in life when making new friends is more difficult, and I don't want to pretend like that's not a big deal.
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thanosscross · 10 hours ago
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Fake girlfriend, Fake boyfriend, silly! - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader
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Summary: After your manager plotted a fake relationship between his two biggest signed rappers, you and Seung get very close, as best friends, but tell me this...would friends treat friends like how Seung Hyun treats you?
Warnings: None :)
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Whenever you were first asked by your manager to start a fake relationship with a guy from one of his boy groups you were complexed, Not recognizing any K-pop idol named Seung Hyun. The first time met him was out at a meeting with your shared boss, Seung Hyun was secretly excited about meeting you, while he found it irritating that his boss felt the need to fake a girlfriend for him, he liked the idea of having someone as cool as you around.
"Seung Hyun, this is Y/n, she's going to your show girl, Y/n, this is Seung Hyun, also known as T.o.p, he'll be your show boy" You manager stated, after that you two became close, using the excuse of having to make it believable to spend almost every minute you could with each other. While you were close with all of BigBang, you and Seung Hyun just clicked together, often sharing a hotel room whenever you'd tour with him for your collaborated shows or songs. It didn't take long after the announcement of your fake relationship for people to immediately either hate or love it, you weren't a rapper like your fake boyfriend, but you did rap in some of your songs, even having a few verses with him where you rapped together, but your manager liked to utilize your voice more, liking the way it wasn't too high pitched but still feminine and calming. You had been 'together' now for almost a year, getting ready for your first full tour with BigBang, you were nervous but also excited, this was big for you, hopefully.
Waking up in your hotel bed you groaned, stretching your body as much as you could before slowly crawling out of your bed before slipping on one of Seung Hyun's hoodies, you weren't sure what time it was, but the sun wasn't up yet, so you knew it was sometime in the middle of the night. You attempted to fall back asleep, but everything was making you uncomfortable, the airport lost your luggage, so nothing in the room made you feel like home, no pillow, blanket, nothing, just the smell of the half ass detergent the hotel used to wash the linens, standing up for the second time you slowly made you way to the connecting you, knowing beyond the door all four guys were most likely asleep, you contemplated on going on, not wanting to risk waking anybody up, but right as you started to turn around Seung Hyun's words echoed in your head 'Don't worry about some silly pillow, if you need something that reminds you of back home, we're all a door away' Turning to face the door again you slowly twisted the knob, watching as it slowly opened into their dark room, all the lights were off and from the faint glow from your bathroom light you could faintly see where everybody was. Ji-Yong and Seung Hyun shared a bed, and Dae-Sung and Tae-Yang shared the other. You pressed Seung Hyun's hoodie to your lips slowly making your way over to whom you hoped to be your fake boyfriend and best friend "Seung hyun" You whispered, feeling your anxiety start to creep up inside of you as he turned his back to you, forcing Ji-yong to stir as well. It wasn't that you were scared or scared of the dark, but ever since you were a teenager you would have severe anxiety in the dark if you sat too long, so standing in the basically pitch-black room wasn't helping your anxiety with not wanting to wake anybody or being in a new weird place.
Trying to stifle your whimpered you felt your hands start to shake as you tried to wake your friend up again "Seung Hyun please...I really need you" You whimpered quietly, instead of your intended target, Ji-Yong slowly sat up, turning his head around confused letting his eyes focus on you "What's up, y/n? Are you okay?" He asked, you bit your lip, trying to swallow the lump in your throat in your throat, sitting up more due to your silence, Ji-yong grabbed his cell phone using the screen brightness to see your face. Seeing your upset state he frowned, catching on to what you were trying to do, he tried to help you, and eventually after about five more minutes, you finally woke Seung Hyun up. As he woke up he shot you both a nasty glare, not wiping it off of his face until his eyes focused and he saw your shaking frame slightly in the dark, without saying anything Seung Hyun just motioned for you to go back to your bed, following behind you with his pillow under his arm. "I-I'm sorry" You whimpered, holding onto the cuffs of the hoodie sleeves, trying any way possible to calm your raging anxiety "Don't. Just lay down, dalkomi" He whispered tiredly, as he pulled the blanket back for you, for a moment you thought he was going to go back to his bed, but instead he just shut the connecting door before laying down next to you "Don't steal all of the blankets again" He warned before wrapping his arm around you pulling you close to where your head laid on his chest, his fingers caressing your spine as you rested your hand on his chest, the more he moved his hand on your back the more you could feel the anxiety slipping away and the tiredness starting to slip in. It didn't take long before Seung Hyun felt your slow relaxed breaths, and the way your hand barely rested on his chest anymore.
You both woke up with a startle, your bandmates standing in your room cooing with their phones out "Sooo cute!" Dae-sung cheered as Seung Hyun groaned slamming his head under the pillow, you just shot them all a tired confused look "Come on Lovers! We have an hour until rehearsals!" Tae-yang reminded as he placed two coffees down on the table, before ushering the others out. Tiredly you turned to look at Seung Hyun who was still hiding under the pillow, you absent-mindedly traced your nails up his back "Aein...handsome, come on" You called sweetly, it wasn't odd for you to call each other pet names, you were actually quite flirty with each other even outside of pretending to be together, you weren't sure about Seung Hyun, but you just liked the way you clicked with him, and you liked the way he'd blush anytime you'd call him into another room by calling him Aein. You watched as he slowly lifted his head "Do we have to?..I'm comfortable" He complained, you just laughed offering him a sympathetic smile as you patted his back "Yep, we have to, now come on, handsome" You replied before climbing off of the bed going towards the large costume bag your manager had dropped off earlier "ooo We're going to look hot, Aein" You cooed as you opened the black bag, seeing the deep red fabrics of a suit and dress, on top of other things, giggling as every outfit was coordinated together, Seung Hyun moved to where you stood smiling "You're going to look amazing" He agreed, you blushed slightly as you pulled out your first outfits, handing the suit to Seung Hyun before you disappeared into the bathroom. After a few moments you both called out "Aein?.." "Dalkomi?" Giggling you opened the bathroom door stepping out "Zip me up?" You asked playfully, he walked over, carefully placing his hands above your waist to hold the fabric of the dress, zipping the zipper up and clasping the small latch he smiled "Tie this damn thing for me?" Seung Hyun asked, playfully pouting as he motioned to the black tie "Of course, handsome" You teased tying the tie effortlessly. As you pulled away you both stopped, staring into each other's eyes before hesitantly pulling away, what was that?
As the show started you stood in the center of the boys, the smoke machines layering a thick smoke over the floor of the stage, as you all dispersed you waited for your cue to start singing. You were having fun, completely forgetting all about your moment with Seung Hyun until Fantastic Baby, you had sat down more to the back of the stage to watch considering you weren't singing and weren't required to preform currently, As soon as Seung Hyun started his first verse he made his way to you pulling you to your feet as he rapped, bringing you close to him before finishing, nodding his head along to Ji-Yong, smiling as he followed to chorography facing you, you just laughed at him starting to mimic his movements, he brought the microphone close to his mouth cheering into the mic before moving back to the center of the stage to continue his second verse.
After the song came to an end you smirked hearing you voice layover theirs, the song transitioning into one of your favorites of yours. As you rapped along to it you took notice of Seung Hyun nodding his head along to your words, throwing some of his own chorography in, Seung Hyun rushed over to you, spinning you around before shaking his hips as he jumped around you, obviously having fun with his free time. As the song ended you panting attempting to catch your breath, Ji-yong circling the stage talking to the crowd as you regrouped with Seung Hyun and the others "Fuck it is next, ready for it?" Tae-yang asked, knowing that was the song that required the most interaction and movement between you and Seung Hyun other than Bae Bae and your back dancing with Seung Hyun for Zutter. "I'm already so tired" You mumbled as the track started to play, Seung Hyun just smiled, kissing your cheek as he rushed past, grouping with the guys for the beginning of the song. Other than your small verse towards the end, your main focus during this song was moving with Seung Hyun and the boys, basically bouncing between them all as a long interest.
Whenever the boys preformed If you, you used your opportunity to take a break, sitting down and taking a drink of your water you smiled in awe. You never heard Seung Hyun actually sing often, but you always loved it, you thought it sounded exactly how you manager described your voice. Whenever Zutter came on came on you were proud of yourself, hitting every move and mark perfectly with the music, and even whenever you'd throw you own little moves in with Seung Hyun, he still always knew what to do somehow, you watched as he pointed at you while rapping, you just rolled your eyes as you danced, giggling whenever you felt Seung Hyun press his hips against yours from behind, bouncing his hips with the beat of the music, your face immediately broke out in a blush as you smacked his chest in shock.
Whenever it came to your last song you purposely saved the most sexual and vulgar for last, you liked the chorography a lot, liking how confident it made you feel as you slid on to your knees at the end of the stage, bouncing on your knees for a moment as you sang, letting yourself slowly fall back you slid back arching your back away from the cold stage surface, silently thanking the spandex shorts under your dress, your head arched just enough to see Seun Hyun running his hands up his body and neck, mimicking your song from his spot at the far with the other boys. As the song ended you stayed were you were, waiting a moment for Seung Hyun to make his way helping you to your feet "That move was new" He stated on your walk back "You think the boss is going to like it?" He teased, you just rolled your eyes "I don't care, I did it for you, Aein" You smiled teasingly watching his face go red, as you all made your way to the end of the stage you smiled, standing on your mark on the platform waiting for the boys to reach theirs before you posed, you immediately kneeled down, using your hands to stabilize yourself Seung Hyun moved forward, pressing his fingers to your cheeks for you, causing you to giggle as the bass to Fantastic Baby played one last time before you all made your way towards the exit of the stage. As you approached the mark you slowed down, blushing brightly whenever Seung Hyun's hand quickly touched your ass, you turned around pretending to storm off stage, Seung Hyun looked towards the ground one last time before winking and running after you.
As you got off stage you were a blushing mess, Seung Hyun quick to find you, a bright smile on his face "I knew you'd be amazing! That's why you're T.O.P Best friend" He said proudly, never noticing your face falling as he called out your real title.
Right..Best friend
---
Ooo we love a slow burn with a fake relationship concept PLUS a clueless but cocky Choi Seung Hyun AND the rest of the band loving you? I dunno about you lovelies, but this gal likes a lot.
--
Taglist!!
@ag022123
@acehasmyheart
@heartz4rubyy
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star2fishmeg · 2 days ago
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Aahhh congratz on reaching 1k! Can I get scenario # 127. Situationship/friends with benefits but it’s unrequited feelings with Luke Hughes.
Thank you for requesting <3
SCENARIO #127 Situationship/fwb but it's unrequited feelings
📞 dialling…
Sometimes people just need a break from everyone. Sometimes people just need a break from themselves and the whirlwind of their mind. Y/n and Luke thought so as they let the night’s chill slap them across their cheeks with the party in the house behind them, the back porch surprisingly vacant. The air between sat thick, unresolved somethings jumbled up but the bravery to break down the barriers locked away in hearts protected by walls of their own. 
Luke was the first to speak up in their silent company, his hat backwards and eyes softly set on her. “Are you seeing anyone else?”
“No, why?” she turned to him, arms loosely folded over the wooden railing. The small slither of excitement painfully bubbled in her stomach, the hope of resolve.
He shrugged, looking away and out into the yard, not that there was a lot to look at, just ratty grass with plastic garden furniture and a couple of bicycles, abandoned. He knew he had to pursue, rid of that horrible, anxious feeling that consumed him, kept him up at night but she was undeniably the best woman he’d ever met in his young life and losing her forever because of some poorly thought-out decision killed him slower than bleeding out onto the porch.
“Just wondering.” He paused, leaning forward onto his arms against the railing, mirroring y/n. “Why aren’t you…seeing anyone else? Like, you’re not even talking or?”
She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, desperation filling her senses, but she knew, and she knew too well how he fumbled over his feelings. How he could never spit it out and hoped she’d pick up his gist but at times like those, nothing boiled her blood more.
“I dunno, just haven’t met anyone else, I guess. You?” She lied, voice clipping ever so slightly.
That horrible, nauseous feeling spread through him violently, guilt-ridden and sweat dribbling down his neck.
“Uh, no, too busy, y’know. You, um, remember the agreement…righ-”
Pushing off the railing she folded her arms, turning to face him abruptly with wet eyes, “-Luke, of course I do. You said no feelings because you’re heading to New Jersey soon.”
“Yeah, I know that. I don’t have any strings, was just making sure you didn’t. We’re friends.”
“Yeah, friends.” Heart aching and sinking into the bottomless pit of the truth, she leant her shoulder against the pillar, arms remaining folded. “Whoever you do fall in love with though, one day, is one lucky girl.”
“Yeah, because she’ll be dating a rich athlete-” his laughed rumbled through his chest, tilting his head back to her but she was already looking at him. 
Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, “-not what I meant.” 
“Well, what other reasons are there?”
A short silence pushed them apart, like a wedge between them. Y/n hoped he couldn’t notice the tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest and she swallowed, a lump choking her and she loathed him. Herself. The situation. If she could have screamed at the top of her lungs right then and there, she would have. And she would hope he’d pull her into his chest and stroke her hair, cooing to her about how it would be okay.
“I don’t think you want to hear them, yet. Not from me, at least.” She sniffed, shaking her head slowly, her eyes burning into his, pushing off the pillar and stepping towards the backdoor.
Luke swung around, hand grasping her bicep desperately, his gut setting sirens off in his head and now he’d pried, pried too far that he had to know whether it would kill him or not. He needed to know if he’d made the worst decision of his life. 
“No, y/n, tell me, why would she be lucky? You can’t just drop that and not elaborate. We’re friends, y/n, you can tell me anything.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it was firm, not enough to frighten her but strained as if he were fighting his own set of demons.
“No, it’s doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it…” her lips pulled into a sad smile, and even Luke could see that. His eyes pleaded, glassy with eyebrows pulled, shoulders slumped and mouth faltering. She was a weak woman to him, and as much as it pained her, she inhaled and let out a shaky breath, “...you’re so much more than a hockey player. But I shouldn’t be the person telling you that. You’re kind with a comforting warmth, you draw people in with your charisma and you’re the best fucking company I’ve ever had but the person you love should be giving their heart to you. I’m just a friend who fucks you.”
Her arm felt cold again, the absence of his hand dearly despised but it was for the better. Luke’s exhaled, running his hand over his hat and placing his hand on his hip. He remembered their agreement, he couldn’t feel anything, that’s what he’d been trying to do but deep some in some crevice somewhere, he knew he couldn’t do better than her. He shouldn’t have offered to be friends with benefits in the first place, he would still have her then. In another universe, maybe they would have worked out, for real. Real feelings with a real commitment and now all he did was watch her punish herself for loving him for who he was as a person. 
She turned, voice shaking and strained, “You can come find me when you’re drunk enough, and we’ve forgotten this conversation. You know I’ll give you the best night of your life.
”Luke watched her disappear from his sight, back into the house and he sighed deeply. Y/n loved him, and if he wasn’t leaving for New Jersey, a part of him believed that he could have loved her too.
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chrystal-ink · 2 days ago
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Shadow X GN Reader
Intertwined
Based off of one of my favorite Dodie songs Shadow has a nightmare and you comfort him back to sleep lot of hurt/comfort with lots of sweet cuddles.
-Enjoy
It was his thrashing that woke you up. with the sheer amount of trauma it was never a bother to you, his nightmares. you were used to them at this point it. Still seeing the love of your life suffer at the chaos in his own mind made your heart break just as much as the first time you saw it.
you learned to proceed with caution, waking him up prematurely could cause him further confusion which would only make the situation worse. sometimes as much as your hand pressed against his back was enough to calm him down no waking up necessary. unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights.
Shadow bolted upright out of bed letting out a cry of agony his eyes shot open as tears began to stream soaking his face and dripping onto the bedsheets below.
"Hey, hey, hey, I'm here it's okay." you leaped into action speaking gently as you made your way into his line of vision. "Take a deep breath it was just a dream. you're safe, I promise."
Shadow obeyed as you gently cupped his face wiping the tears from his eyes. He was shaking whatever he was dreaming about really must have messed with his head.
you wrapped your arms around him attempting to steady him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck wrapping his arms tightly around you, as if you were to disappear if he let go.
You waited for him to speak. It always took him a moment to collect his thoughts after a particularly bad nightmare.
"Are you sure you're safe with me?" He finally broke the silence.
"What? Of course I am, What makes you think that?"
"I know that people want me for my power, they can't hurt me, they know that, but what's keeping them from hurting you? Eggman he took you, tortured you, and let you die in front of me. all while I was powerless to stop him."
"That's not going to happen Shadow."
"How do you know?"
"Because, You won't let it, and neither will I, you trained me to protect myself remember?"
"yah but-"
"There will always be a but my love. Being with you, being with anyone really, there is always some sort of risk. I chose you and will continue to choose you despite those risks. Not because I don't care about them, but because every second you're in my life it makes all of those risks worth it. Feel this." You placed his hand on your chest so he could feel your pulse. "I'm still here, see? and you're here with me, which means no matter what even if an enemy crashes through that door right now I am still safe because were together."
"I still worry about you."
"I know, and I'm grateful just relax and lay with me for now, tell me everything I want to hear it you don't have to go through it alone.
You laid down, Shadow following suit placing his head on your chest so he could hear your heart beat, the rhythmic thumping calming him as he wrapped himself around you.
'Skin. Heat. Hair in your mouth, feet touching feet. you and I, safe from the world, though the world will try.'
you stroked the top of his head feeling him melt into you as your hand moved along his silky quills.
"You know you're the only one who can do that right?" He commented
You giggled "Yah, I Know"
You felt him smile against you.
'Numb, Fine, You create the rarity of my genuine smile. So breathe, breathe with me.'
Shadow began telling you about his nightmare, all the horrible details of an event that would never come to pass. He told you about the anxiety he felt when he couldn't find you. how he hated himself for letting you get hurt even though it was just a dream. he didn't want his mind to go there it just did on it's own.
'Can you drink all my thoughts cause I can't stand them'
Shadow wrapped himself around you further, as if he were trying to merge your bodies together, so you would never have to be apart again.
"I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you on my watch, I can't lose you, not in the way I lost everyone else."
"I know dear, that's why I won't let it happen."
'Intertwined. Free. I've pinned each and every hope on you, i hope that you don't bleed with me.'
the more shadow talked the more at ease you felt him become, his grip loosened on you as his muscles relaxed, his head grew heavy against you easing you into a relaxed state as well.
When he was done you thanked him for telling you everything, you reassured him that everything would be fine, as long as the two of you worked as a team which seemed to comfort him.
'I'm afraid of the things in my brain. but we can stay here and laugh away the fear'
you hummed mindlessly as you stroked Shadows head lulling him to sleep, you followed suit not long after. The rest of the night was silent as the two of you slept in each other's arms, fighting off whatever nightmares came your lover's way.
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hanjivrse · 2 days ago
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𝐇𝐎𝐓, 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘
desc :
the skater boy who seems like he lives a nice life actually hides something truly dark
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hot, flirty, nonchalant skater boy. han jisung was his name. he sometimes threw parties, but the weird thing was his parents never got mad or anything. they didn't seem to care. they just smoked cigars in the living room while their son and the people invited shout, sing and dance in the basement.
you and your friends were going to one of han's parties, which you guys were invited via instagram. you and the other girls didn't usually go, but he said it was gonna be his "biggest party yet," so you guys went to see how big it really was gonna be.
you arrive, and as usual, his mother and father are glued to the couch, several bottles of alcohol scattered around, taking long drags of their cigarettes. you and your friends scurry off downstairs to the party and as han said, it was big. you had so much fun, so much fun that the big host himself noticed.
after, you see that han looked a bit off, and when everyone left, you went to ask if he was okay. he nods, but then he stares up at you. he trusts you. he holds your hand and drags you outside. he takes his skateboard with him.
you ask him what's wrong once again, and he replies,
"my parents don't care about me, they just.. shout at me all the time. so, i just skate or throw parties to take my mind off things."
he ruffles his hair, still trying to act nonchalant about everything, but you can see some tears in his eyes.
"and.. i don't know why.. but i trust you a lot. god, i don't even know your name and i think you're trustworthy.."
"o-oh, my name is y/n. you're han, right?"
he nods and extends his hand out, saying,
"nice to meet you, y/n"
you both shake hands. his hand was warm, and fairly large, it looked ginormous next to yours, yet they still fitted perfectly.
he looks at you for a moment before continuing,
"i think it's stupid that I'm opening up to a stranger.."
he rubs his eye with his sleeve.
"..but you seem like a pretty cool person"
"thanks, you're pretty cool too."
he lets out a short chuckle, raising an eyebrow and smirking.
"you think so? thanks for the compliment. but i think you're cooler than i am"
he pushes some of his hair back, when you pointed out,
"hey, won't your parents be worried for you right now? like where you are?"
he groans before rolling his eyes.
"they don't even care where i go. all they do is smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol all day."
he huffs out, shoving his hands in his pockets before looking at you.
"yeah it sucks. honestly i don’t even know why they had me-"
he stops himself and looks away, shaking his head and letting out a breath.
"whatever.. i can't even deal with it right now.. do you want to.. skate with me for a while, i guess?"
"well, i don't know how to skate.."
"that's fine, i can teach you"
he says with a small shrug. he gives a sweet smile before holding out his hand to you. you take his hand and he intertwines his fingers with yours as he starts to walk around the yard, towards a random spot. he grabs his skateboard from the floor, before dropping your hand and setting the board on the ground.
"now, just stand on the board, okay?"
he pushes the board back and forth, smiling at how you look a little intimidated.
"it's okay, it's stable. you won't just fall over. now, put your foot on the front and i'll push you.."
he waits for you to do as he says, then he pushes you with his foot. after a few kicks he looks over at you.
"you think you can handle it yourself now?"
you nod and he stands right beside you, watching you push the board around.
"yeah, do it again. try to put a bit more weight on it and put your other foot onto the back of the board"
after a while, han jokingly pretends to wipe sweat off of his forehead, and he lets out a low whistle, he was really impressed by how well you were handling the board. he steps in front of you, looking at you with a small smirk.
"i can't believe you've never skated before. you're doing way too well for a beginner! hey, maybe we can skate around the neighborhood, i have a spare board you can use and we can drop you off at your house."
you nod and get on the spare board that he had in his garage.
the warm summer night had finally cooled down, the two of you who were gliding through the neighborhood were both clad in black clothes. the cool air made their faces tingled a little as they took in the quiet of the neighborhood, the houses around them were all in darkness, the people who lived in them had already gone to bed.
the dimly lit streetlights cast shadows that danced on the pavement on the sidewalk as they slowly glided over it. the neighborhood was mostly quiet, save from the occasional sound of a cricket in the distance and the quiet breathing sound that comes from someone skating past you quietly, which was all the more prominent in the silence of the night.
han drops you off at your house and you go to give him the spare skateboard back, but he holds a hand up, shaking his head.
"no, keep it. you did really good considering you've never skated before, so you can have the spare board"
"really?"
he nods his head.
"yeah, you did great. there's no point in me having it gathering dust in my garage. you should be the one using it, since you know how to skate now."
he kisses your cheek before leaving. you practically melt on the spot. he smiles at you before walking away, a small blush on his cheeks and he turns around and winks at you. as he's walking away, he calls out to you,
"see ya, y/n!"
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haikyu-mp4 · 1 day ago
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The Comedians
word count; 937 – f!reader, part 2 of this
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Tendo held the door for you and gestured with his arm like a classic gentleman. His smile made you chuckle in adoration while you looked at the sign that stood beside him: Open mic comedy night, it said. What a coincidence.
"You can go find us a seat and I'll get us something to drink," Tendo said and walked over to the barista, trying not to show how excited and nervous he was.
The atmosphere was warm and light. You and Tendo both had rosy cheeks and conversed lightly. Every topic flowed so naturally like you were catching up on your entire lives even though the topics were simple things like what you got up to recently. At some point, two guys walked in, and you felt curious when Tendo lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey!" the grey-haired one called and walked over. They did a quick handshake before his eyes fell on you with amusement glittering in his eyes.
"Semi-Semi, I didn't expect to see you here today," Tendo said, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and leaning back in his chair. You had a feeling they were close friends.
"I'd like to say the same to you, but that would be a lie. You, however," Semi said, turning to the unfamiliar woman accompanying his old teammate. He held out a hand, and you shook it with a wide smile. "You must be y/n. Tendo told me about you, from the library?" Semi wanted to take full advantage of the situation as his friend's ears got redder and redder. Tendo exclaimed sounds of complaint at the comment but made no move to deny it.
"That's me, y/n from the library. Semi-semi, was it?" You, amused by their friendly teasing, tried to hide how flustered you felt by playing along. Y/n from the library, you nailed that, you sarcastically praised yourself. Semi nodded right as the lights in the cafe dimmed and the small stage lit up.
"Just Semi, preferably. Nice meeting you, y/n. We’ll talk more later; it looks like the event is starting."
The first few young adults daringly tried to win the stage with their humour, telling stories that ended with a funny punchline or making comments about the people in the room who interacted. You and Tendo laughed and commented to each other about what you liked and didn't like, sometimes even adding jokes in between and trying to keep your laughter silent. The last person left the stage, and the microphone stood there, lonely and desperate for some good, or bad jokes.
"Go on, Tendo. Steal the stage," you encouraged, gesturing with your hand.
"Ah, it would be unfair to the others when I'm so naturally funny," he said, and you giggled in response, shoving his shoulder lightly.
"What if we both go?" Tendo looked at the beautiful woman beside him with an unplaceable emotion in his eyes.
"Together?" he asked, making a bold move by grabbing your hand from the table between you and standing up. "We'll go next!" Tendo yelled out, making all the other students clap and whistle.
However, no one could have prepared the audience for the show they were about to see. You and Tendo took turns saying terrible dad-like jokes before taking a few seconds between each one to laugh loudly like two windshield wipers in a rainstorm. "How do lawyers say goodbye? We'll be suing you!"
"What's an astronaut's favourite part of a computer? The space bar!"
You leaned on each other for support and almost forgot anyone was watching. Semi certainly did, with an incredulous look on his face after taking a short video to send in the group chat later. "This is so embarrassing, they're perfect for each other," he said to himself, shaking his head as the duo finally stumbled off the stage while drying your tears.
You sat down by your table again and heaved heavy breaths to try and stop giggling. However, it only took one look at each other's faces to start the laughter factory up again, which is why you decided to leave and get some fresh air. "I can't breathe!" you exclaimed into the night and finally ceased laughing. Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also perhaps the funniest person I've ever met.
"We make a good duo, don't we?" Tendo thought out loud, glancing at your pretty face. You sat down on a park bench by the cafe, arms brushing against each other.
"I don't think the audience was impressed," you admitted while rubbing your hands for warmth. Tendo saw this and decided, that now was the moment. He lifted the arm closest to you and let it fall across your shoulders, which automatically made you lean closer to him.
I always wanted to try that, he thought and smiled.
You sat there for a while, just looking at the sky and enjoying each other's company, but the cold eventually got to you, and you had to walk back to the cafe. As Tendo opened the door, you laughed once again and said, "A clown held a door open for me the other day. I thought, what a nice jester".
The joke made Tendo realise how smitten he already was, and he had the sudden urge to lean down and kiss you. So he did. It was a short peck on the cheek, but meaningful nonetheless. You both enjoyed the rest of the evening, talking to some other students, including Semi. He kept watching you and his friend looking at each other like he had only read about in books.
The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist
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aureyaa · 1 day ago
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Underneath the Surface
pairing: Jeno x GN!Reader
description: You go to your room whenever Jaemin, your older brother, invites his friends over because it's just too chaotic. But then, things take a different turn when Jeno, your brother's best friend, comes into your room to check on you. He has always been this easygoing, funny guy who gets along with everyone, but today, his attention feels different. As Jeno comforts and befriends you, you start to notice that maybe your relationship means a bit more than being just friends with your brother.
warnings: Fluff, mentions of feeling overwhelmed, slightly emotional tone
wc: 1.7k
The afternoon had settled into a cozy kind of chaos. Jaemin, your ever-energetic older brother, had invited his friends over for a casual hangout, and of course, the house was now filled with laughter, music, and the sounds of people catching up. You could hear your brother's voice downstairs, probably joking around with his friends and causing his usual ruckus. But you were just not in the mood for noise today. It had been one of those weeks, and you sat in your room scrolling down on your phone quietly, trying to tune out everything happening around you.
Despite the warmth within the house, you couldn't help but desperately wish for space. It wasn't because you didn't love your brother or his friends; sometimes, it all just became a bit too loud. Jaemin had always been outgoing, dragging his friends deep into whatever whim he had gotten himself into, and you often found yourself getting swept up in it all or quietly watching from the sidelines.
You exhaled slowly as your eyes scanned down to the time on your phone; it was already late afternoon, and you'd spent some time here. You could still try to push all of that aside, but steps made their way towards the door. A highly familiar voice spoke up.
"Hey, still in hiding, are ya?"
Of course, even without lifting your head, you would've known-it was no other than Jeno, Jaemin's best friend. It was something that had never gotten used to: the way he always knew where to find you when you needed space. Jeno had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, not just Jaemin's friend but one who always tried to speak with you even when his attention often pulled elsewhere. There was something in the way Jeno carried himself, calm and easy, which always made one feel that they didn't have to be anybody but oneself.
You didn't have the time to react before Jeno knocked lightly and then opened the door, stepping into your room. There was his usual laid-back grin, but something in his eyes told of a more reflective look, as if to say he knew you were a little off today.
Hey," he said, wandering over to your desk. "Your brother sent me up to make sure you're not holed up in here being all mysterious."
You looked up at him and shrugged, your lips twitching upward despite yourself. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your tone light. "Just… needed a break from all the noise.
Jeno leaned against your desk, looking around your room for a second before meeting your eyes again. "Yeah, I get that," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I know it can get a bit too much down there." He tilted his head, studying you with a quiet gaze. "You've been up here for a while now, though. Everything okay?
You hesitated, unsure of how to explain it all. It wasn't that anything in particular was wrong, but there was this underlying feeling you couldn't shake. It had been building in your stomach for a while now, and you didn't really know what to do about it. You didn't want to unload on Jeno, but the way he was looking at you made it feel like he was genuinely interested in listening to what you had to say.
Yeah," you said, trying to sound more convinced than you actually were. "Just… stuff. You know, life."
Jeno's gaze gentled as he stepped closer, pulling a chair out of your desk and sitting down across from you. "I get it. Life has been weird sometimes." His tone was even, and somehow, that made things just a tiny bit easier. "But you're not going to have to deal with it alone, got it?
You looked up, surprised at the sincerity laced in his voice. This wasn't usually Jeno-being serious was never him, he's usually the one with the jokes, trying to make someone laugh. But there was something about him today that set him off. He wasn't pushing for an answer. He wasn't trying to make light of the things. He was just… there.
"I'm not just your brother's best friend," Jeno said, his voice soft but sincere. "I'm your friend, too, okay? If you need to talk about anything, then I'm here, and you don't have to face everything on your own."
There was something in the way he said this and something so sincere in his words that caused your chest to tighten. For a moment, you didn't quite know what to say. You had always seen Jeno as this cool, calm guy who blended into any situation with ease, someone who never seemed to have a care in the world. But now, the reality of him being so open, so vulnerable with you, made everything feel different. You felt a strange flutter in your stomach, but you pushed it away, not ready to examine it just yet.
You finally spoke, trying to shake off the wave of emotion that came unexpectedly. "Thanks, Jeno; I appreciate it," you said softly, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."
He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight in the room felt weirdly comforting, the silence between you two not awkward but rather an understanding of some sort. You opened your mouth to say something else when Jaemin's voice boomed from downstairs.
"Jeno! You up there or what? Come on, let's go already!
Jeno looked towards the door, an arch rising onto his face once more. "Guess that's my cue," he said with a chuckle, and then rose from his seat. He headed for the door but then turned back to you once more. "But seriously, if you need anything, I'm right here, okay? Don't hesitate."
You nodded, weirdly out in some indefinable way. "Won't. Thanks, Jeno."
With one last smile, Jeno slipped out of your room, leaving the door creaked open behind him. You sat there for a while, processing it all. You had always thought of him as a family friend, one who would always be around. Today, you realized how much more he meant to you, not only as Jaemin's best friend but also as someone you could approach.
You sat there a moment longer, letting the weight of the conversation settle. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet. Maybe life wasn't as simple as it seemed. But one thing was for sure: Jeno wasn't going anywhere, and neither was your brother. You weren't alone in this.
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stabbyfoxandrew · 3 days ago
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For WIPW - could I have some arson!Neil please? They're in the same place! I'm very excited!
WIP Wednesday (11/27) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 267)
Andrew merely shrugs at that and snaps the lid back into place before adding the candy to the ginormous bag in his lap. Rearranging everything to fit back inside is difficult and sort of pointless, but it gives him something to do besides stare. He doesn't think 10 would appreciate staring right now. The man's already getting a bit twitchy. Restless.
Andrew glances over at him and 10's hands are scarred across the knuckles, all the way up towards his wrists. They're shaking slightly where they rest on his lap. He's turned very slightly to face Andrew with one leg bent under him and the other bouncing a mile a minute on the floor.
"You seem nervous." Andrew comments, making 10's head snap up. "Should I look away for a minute so you can run off into the alley and set something on fire?"
"No. Shut up. I'm fine," 10 answers quickly. But the way his fingers tense suggests it's a lie. The arsonist blows air through his nose. "I'm fine. Really. You're a horrible firefighter by the way."
"How dare you." Andrew says in mock offense, hand to his heart and everything. "I'll have you know I'm an incredible firefighter."
"You just suggested I commit arson."
"Because you're an arsonist and it calms you down." Andrew says. Besides, he thinks it's safest to commit arson with a firefighter ten feet away. He doesn't bother sharing that thought because he doesn't want to get roped into being an accessory.
10 laughs humorlessly then sighs deeply. "Andrew."
"That's my name."
10 rolls his pretty eyes and mutters something to himself that Andrew can't decipher. "The reason I'm nervous is you."
"I'm wildly aware." Andrew says, crossing his arms. "You're certifiably antisocial and you don't hide it very well."
It's rude and hurtful and Andrew could say the same of himself. But he's not the one who looks like he's about to puke. Or bolt out of his own car to get away.
"No. This... is different." 10 makes a face. For a moment he chews on his bottom lip— from the look of it, he's been abusing it all day. Andrew watching 10's eyes flit about silently, waiting for something. Finally, 10 clears his throat. "You know how I told you a while back that I didn't swing? Sexually or whatever."
"Yes." Andrew had been dismayed at that reveal. He remembers the fantasy he'd entertained— sucking 10's bad habit out of him— when they were barely acquainted.
"I think I was wrong." 10 says and Andrew freezes. "I think maybe I do. At you."
"What does that mean exactly?"
"It means I... like you." 10 answers with a shrug. 
"You like me, as in...?"
"As in, I think you're attractive and fun to talk to and I might want to kiss you sometime."
At that confession, Andrew's heart skips a beat. Or two. Possibly three.
Despite his heart's concerning rhythm and his stomach's gymnastic routine, Andrew can do nothing but stare blankly. He's never been told something like that before in his entire fucking life. No one's ever liked him. No one's ever wanted to kiss him sometime. People have wanted and taken, but never asked.
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nabipumpum · 3 days ago
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⟡ ݁₊ Sad 2see u go ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ
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Pairing - Nakamura Kazuha X fem!Reader
Genre - angst
Synopsis - A painful truth is that love is not always enough to maintain a relationship Word Count:1.030
Warnings! relationship breakup, mention of fights, may be sensitive content for some people
Le Sserafim masterlist
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The wind blowing through the cracks in the windows was the only sound that filled the room, the loud whistle causing a certain shiver and discomfort in you, the poorly lit and cold environment gave you chills, the constant feeling that something was wrong slowly consuming you.
A different sound, the sound of the lock opening finally took you out of the whirlwind of thoughts you were in, a familiar figure entering the room, not knowing whether to be happy or sad to see her, you stood up.
“Hi.” was the first word you had spoken in a few hours, Kazuha then noticing your presence after hearing your voice.
“Oh, hi.” you watched her take off her coat and put away her keys, a nervousness running through your entire body, certainly in tufts of the scenarios you imagined, it certainly seemed easier to face her and say what you wanted “I thought you would be asleep by now.”
“I was waiting for you.” Kazuha's muscles tensed, a thousand thoughts running through her mind as she turned to look at you, a tense expression on your face, something that was hard to see, but unfortunately she had seen it often.
"Did something happen?"
Sure, you had so much on your mind to say, so many complaints and questions to ask, but you froze. Seeing her there, in front of you, this time real and not just a scenario in your mind, was harder, you were no longer teenagers and you had been together for years, but Kazuha still made you nervous.
Over the past year, the entire relationship that you had built meticulously and carefully began to crumble, the moments of conversation at the end of the day turned into mostly meaningless and unnecessary arguments, arguments that you would normally resolve in a few minutes turned into hours of screaming and sometimes a few tears. You held on as long as you could, after all, Kazuha was the love of your life, even if she hurt you with rude words, sometimes love hurts, doesn't it?
The answer that most people believe is that yes, love hurts and that's normal. But that's not how it should be, in a more rational view, love should be comfortable and comforting, the person you love should make you feel good, disagreements are inevitable and this happens to any person who has their own opinion, but why would it be normal for someone you love to hurt you?
When that key turned in your head, your whole vision changed, maybe you and Kazuha weren't going to spend your whole lives together and that's okay, you did what you could to save this relationship but now you couldn't do anything else, you have to move on.
"Can we sit down?" She waved, the two of you walked together to the living room, light flashbacks passing through your mind, of all the moments you spent together on that same couch “I don’t know a better way to say this.”
“Don’t say.” She clutched the fabric of her pants, a big lump forming in her throat.
“Zuha…” She shook her head.
“Just don’t say, please don’t.” The last three words sounded so low that it seemed more like she was talking to herself than to you.
Kazuha had the same bad feeling all day, so when she heard that you wanted to talk and that you were waiting for her, everything seemed to stop, she regretted all the times she yelled or that you two fought for the most stupid reasons possible.
“This isn’t working anymore…” She kept shaking her head, looking down this time.
A sob.
“We can fix this, I swear, I can make it better, please.” You sighed as you heard more sobs and small murmurs coming from her “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Then we don’t have to break up.” She looked at you, her eyes watering, bright trails of tears reflecting in the dim light of the room.
“Love isn’t everything, Kazuha.” She moved, sat down next to you and held yours tighter.
“But if we love each other then we can get through this.” You shook your head again, controlling yourself as much as possible so as not to cry along with her.
“Love doesn’t fix everything either…” She cringed “I’m so sorry.”
“Is it your decision?” You agreed and she sniffed, letting go of your hands to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. “If that’s really what you want then fine, I want to see you happy” even if it’s not with me.
“I’m sorry things ended like this.” She looked at you again, you then feeling your eyes burn and a tear form.
“It’s my fault, I’m the one who should apologize… I’m sorry, Y/n, for everything.” You smiled.
“I forgive you.”
For the next few minutes, Kazuha remained seated on the couch, crying softly, trying not to disturb you.
Seeing you with a suitcase walking to the door was certainly one of the most painful scenes for Kazuha, how did she let it get to this point?
She stood up and the two of you were in front of the door, a scene similar to when you moved into her apartment, with that same suitcase, but you were both smiling that day, now you both had red eyes from crying.
“Whenever you need something, you can look for me.” The girl’s voice broke, but you still understood.
“You too.” You looked up a little and sighed “Bye, Kazuha.” You opened the door and looked at her one last time.
“Bye, Y/n” You closed the door, Kazuha falling to her knees with her face in her hands right after, crying as if someone had ripped out an organ from her, the sound of her crying now keeping company with the whistles coming from the windows.
Kazuha stayed there for long minutes, having difficulty breathing when she managed to calm down a little, a mental note was made in her mind.
I should return the ring this week.
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16-puppies · 18 hours ago
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Yes!! I absolutely understand what you’re saying and I agree pretty much. Like yes, it’s important to accept every nonhuman identity, and I don’t think the people who experience nonhumanity this way are necessarily “fakers” or “being nonhuman wrong” or are less serious about it than others, but also there seems to be an obvious difference between how these types of nonhumans experience the identity (as in more of a metaphorical, aesthetic, or symbolic way) vs how other nonhumans experience their identity. It also seems like these types of nonhumans make up a large portion of the community, so then you end up with this weird limbo where the therian community is both incredibly diverse and ridiculously homogeneous. Like, I remember making a post a few days ago about how there’s this sort of specific “dog therian aesthetic” that is super popular in the community, and it kindof leaves out the experiences of other people. It’s also interesting seeing this current clash in the community about how far away and distinct therians and other nonhumans are from being human in any way, and yet from what I’ve seen there is a lot more human influence on people’s identities than most of us realize.
Again, I don’t really want to say that nonhuman identities aren’t nonhuman if they’re created or influenced by emotions or if it’s identifying symbolically or metaphorically (even if the one identifying doesn’t realize it) because my dog theriotype very much still is/was influenced by emotions, specifically grief, but also… I still… researched? Like my dog theriotype is still one I was questioning before I experienced grief. I think one of the most confusing things about interacting with the therian community is going into it thinking that research of theriotypes and introspection was going to be a major focus for everyone over a year ago when I awakened and now im here and its… not really like that for a lot of people? And im not trying to be elitist about it and say like “oh you actually have to know 5 billion facts about your theriotype or you’re not valid, you have to know exactly which clade and genus your theriotype is from and if you cannot say their scientific name in perfect latin obviously that means you’re faking” because that would obviously be stupid but ALSO… if you’re supposedly a coyote therian, and all you’re basing it off is just “well I feel like this so I must be this”, how likely is it that you’re actually another small wild canine? Maybe you’re really a jackal, or a culpeo, or a short-eared dog, or a dingo, or a carolina dog, or some other canine no one’s ever heard of but because you didn’t care to research you’ll never know. How many therians have the wrong theriotype because of this?
I also feel like the community should be more accepting of temporary nonhuman identities… like, if you’re identifying as an animal because of emotions of feeling hurt, betrayed, angry, lonely, etc. and you heal from that, will the identity then disappear? We should at least be open to the possibility, because it’s not like identity is set in stone till the day we die. And there’s nothing wrong or bad or stupid with identifying as an animal because of these things, even if it’s seen as “out of the norm” for things like therianthropy. But like… I also understand what you mean by saying that these people don’t exactly understand what it means to be animal… so it makes me wonder, do we need a new term for this phenomenon, or would that be too much? Maybe just more encouragement to research and do actual self reflection?
LIKE… I WANT TO REITERATE THAT I GET IT. I really do get it. Sometimes I read things from a therian and I just shake my head like… is that really all you think it means to be an animal? And I’m so worried about talking about this in depth with most others in the community because I don’t want people to think I’m gatekeeping yknow?
I also think that some of the general negative ideas about humans and humanity that circulate in the community inadvertently discourage people from questioning their identity from time to time and realizing that they may be human or even partially human, or even discussion about partially human identities or metaphorical/symbolic identities like the ones described here. It’s another phenomenon that can be classified into what you described — following the masses and seeking community, even if that means misinterpreting a part of yourself. It’s like so many of us in the community are in a race to be “more nonhuman” than everyone else, and to denounce anything to do with humans and humanity even if that means denying a part of your nonhuman identity and how it intertwines with humanity. It’s not saying that we are all inherently human, but rather that it’s okay if your identity has ties to humanity or even if it’s fully human.
Conclusion i guess… I think there needs to be more focus on actually reflecting on your identity which is why I was drafting a post to “redefine” therianthropy to encourage this… as well as more awareness of therianthropy that is more than just psychological, spiritual, or physical. Like, overall I think it’s fine for people to metaphorically or symbolically be an animal and maybe having more awareness of this will help people understand and define their experiences more? Instead of all of us being lumped together when many of us experience therianthropy very differently? I don’t know… I really don’t know… I’m not sure it would be a good idea anyways because there’s already a lot of words that mean nearly the same things but just slightly different.. I feel like I see a coining post every week lol /lh .
(I hope this all makes sense and I hope I understood your points correctly lol, this is just mostly additional ramblings that I thought of in relation to all of this)
not take but I think nearly 90% of therian identities are at least somewhat subconsciously (or consciously) affected by emotional states and how the heart feels through the logical filter of the mind (like.. wanting unconditional love is clearly a canine thing, wanting respect and space is a feline thing, wanting to be feared and yet soft is like some big cat thing.. etc.. no? The stereotypes still are ever so present)
but idk man
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