#i love having a friend with the same sense of humor as me

[xoxochb]

omg aphrodite!reader having her first kiss with percy <3 it would be so cute rahhh

— ribbons in your hair ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff!!! pairing: lovesick! percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

“do you like ‘em?”

you smile brightly and turn around with a jump, revealing to percy your two braided strands tied at the ends with tiny pink ribbons. what kind of question was that, though? like them? of course he liked them! he liked anything that had anything even slightly to do with you.

“they’re great! I love them.”

you squeal and run over to sit atop your bed next to percy. absentmindedly, he takes this opportunity to take each of your braids between his palms delicately thumbs running over the curves of your hair, and ending over the ribbon tying it all together. he silently hopes you can’t see the utter adoration in his eyes or perhaps the faint blush coating his cheeks or the way he feels completely limp simply sitting beside you.

“(name)…” he murmurs, releasing your hair and letting his hands now fall on his lap.

“yes?”

shit. the soft tone of your voice makes him feel weak. thank the gods he’s sitting down.

“uhm…” he searches for the right words. no. he shouldn’t do this now, not when one of your siblings could walk in at any moment (and he new drew wasn’t entirely the nicest person either. that girl’s scary as shit). “nothing.”

you murmur an ‘oh’ and your smile falls into a frown.

“sorry, I just- well… it was nothing important, I didn’t think you’d care much.”

“I care about everything you have to say. even if it’s stupid. or one of your stupid dad jokes.” your lips turn upwards a tad at the mere remembrance of his idiotic humor.

“you hate dad jokes.”

“well, yours are okay.”

percy’s heart flutters like butterfly wings. please aphrodite don’t make me look stupid, he thinks to himself. though by now he’s probably already made a fool of himself. he’s hopeless. slowly, with a shaky hand, he reaches out to gently take one of your hands into his. he looks up to meet your eyes to look for any sign of discomfort with the action. he finds nothing.

“(name), have you ever…” he swallows harshly. “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

your brows furrow and you murmur, “no.”

oh. he was sure you had to have kissed someone before. you were… well, you! a favored daughter of aphrodite, kind, absolutely stunning, and admittedly a little horrifying sometimes. he loved you all the same regardless.

“I’ve never kissed anyone either.” it’s silent for a moment before he works up the courage to ask the next question. “would you maybe want to… well actually- can I tell you something?”

“of course.”

“this might be weird and I’ll understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore or if you’ll hate me… but I just… I really like you. more than friends. and I get this is weird but I really like you, it hurts, like in my chest it physically hurts me and it’s hard going everyday not telling you that I love you when I do and its almost unbearable at this point, I mean you occupy all my thoughts everything’s always about you, and don’t get cocky over that because I know you will and you’ll never let me get over telling you that but really what I’m trying to say is that—”

his ramble is abruptly ended when he feels a sudden warmth over his lips. for a moment he can’t understand what’s happening, but when his senses are regained he realizes it’s your lips that are locked with his, and his brain turns to soup, any coherent thought he once had diminished. and he lets himself sink into it despite the nervous storm of butterflies in his tummy.

when you eventually pull away he nearly whines at the loss of contact. though he remembers your hands are still entwined and calms. his gaze sticks on that.

“you talk too much,” you whisper. “and you’re right.”

“about what?” percy looks up to your eyes. though the mischievous glint in them makes him wish he hadn’t asked for clarification.

“I am so never going to let you forget that everything is about me.”

[marcelloshdz]

very very

summary: dating coworkers is never easy, but you and marcello promise to make it work. marcello x snl coworker!reader. requested by anonymous.

“y/n? are you busy?” you heard a voice ask. you turned from your computer, finding marcello walking into your office.

“i wish i was, but i can’t focus. what’s up?” you asked as he sat down on the couch across from you.

“writer’s block?” he asked, and you nodded. “me too. that’s why i wanted to come talk to you. you wanna bounce some ideas off each other?” 

“sure.” you and marcello spent a few hours in your office, as other writers and cast members came in and out, adding to your idea clouds. 

you’d been a writer at saturday night live for a few years, starting just before the beginning of season 47. the following summer, you met marcello during his audition process. you hit it off very well, and quickly became very close friends after he was hired at the show. you collaborated a lot when it came to writing material for the show. he always came to you for help when he couldn’t come up with ideas, or was having trouble finishing sketches. and you did the same with him. it helped that you had very similar senses of humor, and were close in age, so you understood each other very well.

as it was getting later, everyone was leaving, and you were packing up to leave yourself. you flipped through the pages of your notepad before putting it away, shaking at your head at the messy scribbles of sketch ideas from the night.

“let’s hope some of these stick by tomorrow.” you sighed. you slid the notebook into your backpack and walked out of your office.

“hey. you headin’ out?” you asked just as marcello walked past you.

“yeah, i was just coming to say good night to you first.” he said with a smile. he walked with you out to the parking garage, the two of you making small talk as you walked through the halls of the studio. 

he walked you to your car, you wished each other good night, and went your separate ways. once you got home, you suddenly got a burst of energy, and ideas were flowing through you. you finished a bunch of sketches that you and marcello started together, and started some other ones based off of other ideas that were thrown around throughout the night.

the next day, you returned to work, full scripts loaded on your laptop. you set your things down in your office, took your computer out of your bag and walking down the hall to marcello’s dressing room that he shared with michael longfellow and devon walker. just as you came close, marcello started walking out, saying something to the guys, almost running into you.

“y/n! hey.” marcello said with a wide smile. 

“speak of the devil.” you heard longfellow say softly as marcello focused on you. you ignored it, focusing on marcello before you spoke.

“so, when i got home last night, i was suddenly full of ideas and finished a bunch of the sketches we started yesterday. i’d love to run some by you, if you aren’t doing anything.”

“even if he was, he’d stop what he was doing.” devon said to michael, and they both began snickering with each other.

“alright, let’s go talk in your office.” marcello said, cheeks flushed, gently pushing you away from his dressing room. you walked with him down the hall, trying to push what just happened out of your mind.

you got back to your office, sat down at your desk and marcello sat awkwardly back on the couch.

“sorry about all of that.” he said, avoiding your gaze and twiddling his thumbs.

“dont worry about it.” you said to him, shrugging. he nodded, and you pulled up the scripts on your desktop as marcello moved closer to you. you read through them, and started coming up with ideas of which cast members would be best suited for the roles. 

before the table read that evening, you and marcello had pitched some of your new sketches to the host for that week, which they fortunately loved. they made it to the table read, and were just as funny as you’d hope they would be as the cast was getting into their characters.

once the line up for the show was posted after the read thru, you noticed that three of the five sketches you pitched that week made it to through.

“look at us.” you said to marcello as you stood in front of the cork board.

“always winning. what we do best.” he laughed as you shared a high five.

the rest of the week went by and it was finally show night. the show was amazing, your sketches were getting a ton of laughs, and you were so happy to be in the writer’s room, watching and laughing with everyone.

“i don’t know what it is about you and marcello, but you two always come up with such incredible stuff.” one of the other writers said to you.

“thank you.” you said with a soft smile. you felt your face flush before turning your attention back to the tv.

once the show ended, you made your way to the after party, marcello immediately finding you in the crowd. 

“there you are. i was worried you left without saying good bye.” he said to you, leaning against the bar and ordering a drink. 

“i would never.” you said, feigning offense. he smiled at you, shaking the ice in his cup. you sat silently for a minute before you spoke again. “you okay? you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

“i do, but i cant figure out how to word it.” he said. 

“is it about what devon and michael said earlier?” you asked and he nodded. 

“i’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable or anything. we were just talking about you, and and i may have admitted to having a crush on you.” your heart began racing at his words. 

“oh!” you took a deep breath. “i don’t know what to say.”

“we’ve been friends for a long time, and we’ve gotten really close over these past few years. i love having you in my life, and i love how supportive you are to me, all of your friends and co-workers. you make me laugh, and i love getting to work with you every day. it’s really no surprise to me that i’ve developed feelings for you.” he paused to take a breath. “i’m sorry, i don’t mean to spring all of this on you all at once.”

“ay, marcello. you don’t have to apologize. that whole interaction was admittedly weird, but i didn’t even think about it for that long.” you said to him. 

“so, nothing to say about me admitting to having a crush on you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“well,” you began, taking his hands in yours. he faced you and stepped closer to you. 

“oh no. you’re about to break my heart, aren’t you?” he asked, and you shook your head. 

“no.” you laughed. “marcello, i like you too. i’ve liked you since the first time you ever came to me for writing advice.”

“that was three years ago!” he laughed. 

“says the man who just admitted to having a crush two minutes ago.” you teased. “look, i was too nervous to say anything. and i didn’t want to complicate our work relationship. there was just something about watching you pay such attention to the detail in your sketch writing, and dedicating so much time to make everything you write as perfect as you can. your work ethic is so incredibly admirable.” you explained. he stepped closer to you and you wrapped your arms around his waist. “you’re such a good friend to everyone, you make me laugh like no one else. plus, i think you’re very very cute.” 

“very very?” he asked, and you nodded. “well, good for me.” he laughed. his placed his hands on your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks. “i also think you’re very very cute.” 

“glad we’re on the same page there.” you smiled. you watched marcello’s eyes flit between yours and your lips. you gave him a small nod, and his lips were suddenly pressed against yours. as you kissed, a million butterflies swarmed in your stomach. you felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders, now that you finally told marcello about your feelings.

he pulled away and smiled, resting his forehead against yours.

“look, marcello, if we’re gonna do this, i don’t want this make things weird for us at work if we don’t work.”

“i don’t like that you’re already betting against us, but i see where you’re coming from.”

“i’m not betting against us, i’m just being pragmatic. i want to be with you, i do.”

“and i want to be with you. that should be enough for us to want to give us a shot.”

“okay.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you said with a smile, kissing him again. 

you and marcello decided to cut the night short, heading back to your apartment. you spent the rest of the night together, happy that your feelings for each other were finally out in the open, and that you were finally getting together. you knew that you were going to work hard and making sure this would work, but you knew that he was going to be worth it.

[caroverse]

Please help protect my sweetheart and best friend ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hi! My name is Carolyn and I'm fundraising for the love of my life, Noor. Noor is a Moroccan trans woman, and in a difficult situation right now. She is currently unable to work due to French Bureaucracy and Visa complications. Between the fear of possible deportation, the weight of racism and transphobia, and the anxiety that comes with struggling with money, she is really having a difficult time right now and could use all the support she could get. She is struggling to afford rent during this time where she is unable to work. Every single cent that is donated will be sent directly to help support her in life.

Noor and I have been together now for years and although we are currently far apart, we are trying our best to support eachother and are working to make sure we can live together in the near future. She is the love of my life as well as my best friend. Noor is kindhearted, patient, and creative in ways I could never begin to describe. She brings warmth and love with her everywhere she goes, and deserves a community just as all of us do.

Noor cooks the most wonderful meals you'll ever taste. She creates beautiful artwork from her own hands, including a hand-knitted blanket that I sleep with every night, and various hand-knitted goods that keep her friends and me warm in the cold. She has a great sense of humor and loves to make jokes, all of which I still laugh at years after she made them. Her smile is contagious and her hugs are the warmest you could ever imagine. Noor deserves the same warmth, love, and protection she offers others, given right back tenfold.

Please consider donating to support Noor, my sweetheart who I love so much. Every little bit helps, even if you can only donate one dollar/euro. Your support means the world to her, and me as well, and we send you all of our love. Let's support eachother, together. ❤️

Sincerely,

Caro ❤️

[atari-phantom]

So, I'm in a call with my bestie @bacondaddy, and the incident about the Dredge / turkey sandwich got brought up again unexpectedly. We're sitting here, playing DBD as usual, and I'm quiet because I'm eating dinner. She asks if I'm there, I respond because yeah, I'm here. Just eating. This. Bitch (affectionate). Has the audacity to go "Oh, is it a foreskin sandwich?" (Context: We call the Dredge a turkey, we call him the foreskin monster because have you SEEN the Dredge, etc.) I about fucking LOST my shit laughing. I can't. I seriously can't. It wasn't even a turkey sandwich this time. IT WAS HAM

[queermania]

Wait you don't ship Cockles?

no

[crescentfool]

a silly little comic i drew in a one hour haze featuring @fwishfearme and i’s ocs! aka: what happens when you put fishing extraordinaire shirayuri fugetsu in the same scenario as my silly squid minatoast? (alt text/dialogue in image captions)

[heywriters]

Details That Convey Intimacy

Developing fictional relationships that feel authentic takes more than dialogue and grand gestures. Every detail below can be used to show platonic, familial, agape, or romantic love depending on context.

cooking a meal for someone, bringing them food, or spontaneously sharing a snack

sharing body heat/warming someone with outerwear like jackets and scarves

fanning them with something if overheated

getting a cold/hot drink for them

offering to carry something, whether it's heavy or just a jacket, to lighten someone's load or free up their hands

more below the click!

changing the subject of a group conversation that will be personally discomforting to someone in the group

making sure to include someone in a group conversation, especially if it's a topic they have special knowledge of

waiting for someone to catch up when the rest of the group has walked ahead

remembering preferences/allergies ahead of time when preparing/ordering food

planning trips, whether in a pair or as a group, that provide something positive for every individual to enjoy

procuring personal healthcare items like sunscreen, moisturizer, lip balm, pain relievers, or a snack and keeping them on hand for that friend who frequently needs them

making room for someone in a crowded vehicle or on public transit

making room for someone under an awning or in another limited space to help them avoid bad weather

warning or wordlessly covering for someone with a wardrobe/cosmetic malfunction

remembering a small luxury someone mentioned they enjoy, and getting it for them the next time it's convenient

running an errand for someone to make their day easier ('importance of errand : depth of relationship' ratio should be explored)

escorting someone to safety in a sudden unsettling event

escorting someone who is drunk, sick, infirm, injured, or emotionally compromised

asking if light, noise, or other sensory factors are bothering someone and taking steps to make them more comfortable

getting gag gifts for someone to show you reciprocate their sense of humor or quirky self-expression (not everyone does this, not everyone appreciates it, and some people predominantly express love through humor and gag gifts; works well with some characters more than others)

holding someone's hand or arm as reassurance, especially when they are afraid*

using their body to block someone from wind, rain, or heat

picking up a dropped item, or carrying a train or other dragging garment for someone else

returning a recognizable possession to someone who may have lost it

This is an inexhaustible list as humans have many ways of showing love for each other. If you are writing spec fic with non-human characters, you can play with variations on these by remembering three core values the "lover" has to consider:

physical comfort of others

emotional comfort of others

social reputation of others

I'd add "sensory comfort" though I think it's tied to physical and emotional comfort.

Please do not try and force any of these into the mold of the misogyny-based "Love Language" trend. Human emotions and expressions of love are diverse and endless.

*While hand holding can be construed as romantic, in reality it varies. Some cultures do not see this as romantic, and some individuals only mean it as a sign of support or compassion. Same goes for long embraces and kissing, both can be done platonically and of course naturally between close family members or friends.

---

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[starlitlakes]

I hate that I have a Type™, and that that translates into the fictional world as well

They aren't all Exactly the same, and from a cursory glance the men I'm interested in seem pretty different, but they all fit the same criteria

All this to say that I was reading for Spencer and he word for word said a phrase that my fwb uses often and

I've had the realization before that I've had a type, but it's just so embarrassing to re-realize every now and then

[willowpains]

can we please get a latina!actress and drew imagine where of how they got together or meeting his family??? I LOVED the first one sm!

meeting the fam

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

the parents

Drew’s parents were in Charleston for the weekend, visiting him at the set of the show for the last few shooting days before wrapping season one.

They had kindly invited you all out to dinner to finally meet Drew’s friends.

He was so excited you were finally meeting part of his family.

Everyone who knew Drew knew how much he loved and cared for them.

So getting to finally meet them was exciting and nerve wracking at the same time.

Madelyn, Chase, Rudy, Madison, JD, Austin and you had finally arrived at the restaurant, where Drew and his parents were already waiting for you all in a table near the back of the place.

A little Italian restaurant in downtown Charleston.

Was there a more perfect place than that?

The moment his parents saw you all approaching, they stood up embracing you all in tight hugs and lovely greetings, Drew standing on the side smiling widely.

You walked to his mom as you offered her a big smile.

“Hi, I’m…” you said looking at her excitedly.

She made a happy high pitch sound as she looked at you, pulling you in for a hug.

“You must be y/n!” she said giving you the biggest bear hug. “Oh my God, you’re so much beautiful in person” she said as she pulled back to look at you with bright eyes.

You blushed at her comment.

“You’re too nice…” you paused with a smile, not sure if you should address her by her name or if that would be too impersonal.

She smiles as she gives your arms a little warm squeeze.

“You can call me Jodi dear” she smiles at you as she hugs you one more time before letting you go.

You move on to greet his dad, Todd, introducing yourself as well, making little small talk as you all settle yourselves on the table ready to order.

The night goes on smoothly, filled with laughs and anecdotes of baby Drew, courtesy of his lovely parents.

You were all having too much fun hearing his embarrassing baby stories and juicy teenage drama.

As the dinner went on with chatter, pasta and wine, you couldn’t help but smile at how happy and at ease Drew looked around his parents.

It made your heart warm.

Before you all left after having spent a wonderful night together, you approached his parents to wish them a good night.

“It was lovely meeting you two” you say smiling up at them. “I had so much fun, and now I know where Drew got his sense of humor”.

Todd laughs at your comment as Jodi hugs you.

“It was so nice meeting you too dear” she says as she leans back smiling at you. “We hope you can visit us back home soon, you’re welcome anytime” she looks at you and then at the rest of your friends. “You’re all welcome”.

You blush at her words, feeling their love and affection.

“Thank you so much” you say smiling at her. “You’re more than welcome at home back in Mexico whenever you want” you smile sweetly at them as you eye Drew smirking from behind them.

Jodi hugs you one last time before letting you go.

“We might take you up on that offer” she says laughing looking at Todd.

Everyone bids their goodbyes before Drew approaches you as you all walk out of the restaurant.

“Your parents are amazing” You say as you give him a smile.

She shrugs cockily as he looks at you.

“What can I say?” He says smirking at you. “They did raise a pretty cool kid”.

You laugh at him as you hit him playfully.

“A pretty humble one” you say sarcastically with a smile.

He laughs softly, throwing his head back and looking at you again.

“They really loved you” he says, looking attentively at you. “All of you” he lets out, his gaze never leaving yours.

You blush at his words.

The night had gone as perfect as you’d imagined.

the siblings

This was not how you imagined your morning starting.

The night before had been quite successful, if you could call it that.

Madelyn and Drew had invited you all over to their place, for a typical drinking night at their place.

So you all had gathered there to drink and chat, as usual.

But things might have gone a bit overboard than usual.

You had a few free days from filming, so you all took that and rolled with it, not caring about anything besides having fun all together.

And that’s how, that morning, you woke up with a headache and no phone at your place.

You had no idea how you had gotten to your apartment and tucked yourself in bed. You tried to remember but your mind was hazy and blurry.

And as you tried to find your phone, it was nowhere to be seen.

That’s how you ended up going down in the elevator to Maddie’s and Drew’s floor.

You prayed your phone was somewhere in their place, cause if not, you’d be cooked.

On your way down, you cringed as you caught the reflection of yourself in the elevator mirror. This was not your best look.

Your hair was messy tied in a low bun, and you were wearing a big oversized t-shirt with the obx logo, and underneath, some very small sleeping shorts that were invisible under your big tee and sleepers.

Yeah, you were not beating the hungover allegations.

As the doors of the elevator opened, you walked to their apartment as you knocked on their door.

You closed your eyes as your head throbbed a little, you just wanted to find your phone, and go back up to your place to drink a gallon of water and maybe take some aspirin.

And then you thought, where they still hungover and asleep? You hadn’t even taken a second to wonder that maybe you would be waking them up.

In all honesty, you didn’t even know what time it was.

But just then, you heard footsteps coming from inside the apartment and the door being opened.

Revealing a man with an unknown but familiar face at the same time.

Were you at the wrong floor?

This was too much for you and your brain in this state.

You squinted your eyes a little as you looked at the man in front of you. You looked from him to the apartment number, wondering if you had messed up. As you opened your mouth to speak his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“Can I help…” his eyes went from squinting to surprised. “You’re y/n!” he said smiling at you, looking happy and surprised. “I’m Logan, Drew’s brother.

You blink while looking at him.

He was Drew’s brother.

Now you remember. He had said his siblings were coming to stay with him for a few days to spend the break with him.

Oh dear God. You had totally forgotten.

And now you were standing in the door, in front one of his siblings, in pijamas and hungover.

Worst first impression ever.

“Oh my god, hi!” You say, accidentally sounding a bit too excited than you intended. “It’s so nice to meet you” you smile, clearing your throat, feeling too embarrassed to think of something else to say.

He laughs softly at you, and before you can say anything else, another voice from behind echoes.

“Logan, who’s that?” A girl with brow hair pops up from behind him while looking at you.

You wished the earth could swallow you whole.

“Hi, I’m y/n” you say smiling anxiously at her.

Your appearance definitely was not giving you any confidence at the moment.

“Oh my God” she says smiling at you while shoving his brother aside. “You’re the y/n!” she says excitedly while approaching you. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long” she finishes as she pulls you for a hug. “I’m Brooke”.

The only thing you could do was return the hug while laughing nervously.

“Come in, we’re making breakfast” Logan says as he invites you in, closing the door behind you.

You really didn’t wanna be there in that moment.

Like, it was lovely meeting them, they seemed like the sweetest persons ever, but, you were feeling sticky, nauseous and embarrassed that they had to meet you like this.

Just your luck.

“Oh thank you so much, but…” you were interrupted as a girl with blonde hair walked out the kitchen.

She paused her steps looking at you.

“Mackayla, you’re not gonna believe this, she’s y/n!” Brooke said to her sister, as she side hugged you.

You smile at her softly while waving at her.

Her eyes brighten while she smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” she says excitedly. “Drew didn’t tell us you were coming, we would’ve cooked something better than pancakes” she smiles at you.

God how you wished you could’ve showered before coming down.

“No, please don’t worry!” you say a little too fast, looking at them, causing them to eye you with a confused look. “I really don’t wanna interrupt your breakfast” you say smiling at them embarrassed.

This was the worst situation ever.

Or that’s what you thought.

Because as you finished talking, Drew came walking down the hall, shirtless, with only some sleeping shorts and a towel on his hand while he dried his hair.

“What are you guys bickering about?” he says walking to his siblings before he stops and notices you.

You look at him while giving him an awkward smile.

His eyes open a bit too much in surprise.

“Hi” you mumble out sheepishly. “I just came by to see if I had left my phone here” you say blushing a little at the attention. “Cannot find it anywhere” you say moving your hands, showing them how they’re empty.

God you were being pathetic.

Was this how animals at the zoo felt?

“Uh yeah yeah” he blinks at you. “I was gonna bring it up to you later” he says walking to the couch, picking it up and handing it to you.

You take it from him while sighing in relief.

“Thank you so much” you say as you hug your phone dramatically. “I was panicking” you say laughing while looking at his siblings.

They all looked between you and Drew smiling.

You cleared your throat.

“I should get going now” you say smiling softly at them. “It was really nice meeting you” you say, feeling way embarrassed as each second passed.

Mackayla shaked her head looking at you.

“Please stay, we’d love for you to join us!” she says smiling at you hopeful.

“I really don’t wanna impose” you say giving them a sheepish smile, before Brooke shrugs and shakes her head.

“None of that! Maddie will join us too” she smiles at you.

Drew lets out a chuckle.

“If she wakes up” he says laughing softly.

In that moment, Maddie walks out of her room towards the bathroom, stopping herself to give Drew a humorless look.

“I am wake” she says before hiding herself in the bathroom.

You all burst into soft laughter before you can feel all their eyes on you once again.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Give me 5 minutes to shower and I’ll be down with a brand new box of cookies from home I have in my place” you say giving them a smile.

They all laugh while you’re already walking out the door.

“Deal!” Logan laughs as they all see the door close behind you.

You run up to you place, chugging an aspirin and getting into the shower to get yourself looking decent and to try and fix your first impression on Drew’s siblings.

Down at his place, they’re finishing setting the table and cooking breakfast.

“She’s cute” Mackayla says as she gives Drew a look.

He laughs softly under his breath looking at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, she can pull that hangover look, not everyone can, it’s hard” Logan lets out before Drew smacks him playfully in the head.

He groans while his sisters laugh at him.

“She seems funny too” Brooke says walking to them. “That’s a good quality to have you know” she lets out while looking at Drew.

He rolls his eyes at his siblings comments, trying to act nonchalant.

“Don’t be weird around her” he lets out, smiling at the memory of you at his apartment in your disheveled look.

How were you able to make the best impressions even having just woken up?

*

omggg I loved writing this request! thank you so much for sending it and liking my work, hope you love it<3

sorry for taking a bit to post it, I have been feeling a little off my game

please feel free to send in asks and requests if you wanna know anything about latina actress reader!

headcanons, blurbs, moodboards, social media posts, I’m open to anything!

[mrsfancyferrari]

Need Saving

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

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Part 2 - Part 3 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. THIS WILL BE A SERIES AND THANK YOU FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! Please like, reblog and share this! <3 ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

Word count: 10.8k

You are making history as the first woman to compete in Formula 1 with the Red Bull team, stepping in for Sergio Perez.

This groundbreaking achievement not only highlights your talent but also paves the way for future generations of female racers in a sport traditionally dominated by men.

Your personality shines through with a warm and friendly demeanor that makes you incredibly approachable. Colleagues and fans alike find you likable, creating an inviting atmosphere wherever you go.

This charm not only endears you to those around you but also helps foster a supportive environment within the competitive world of racing

Some have affectionately dubbed you the "Mini Honey Badger," a nod to the legendary Daniel Ricciardo. This playful comparison reflects your fierce determination and tenacity on the track, qualities that resonate with fans and fellow racers.

Your unique blend of charisma and competitive spirit is sure to leave a lasting impression in the world of Formula 1.

Luckily, you found yourself paired with one of the most talented drivers in the sport, Max Verstappen.

From the very beginning, you and Max clicked effortlessly, perhaps due to your shared sense of humor or the lighthearted way you both approached life outside of racing.

Max, known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, also had a playful side that drew you in. Whether it was sharing funny anecdotes from your childhood or engaging in friendly banter about each other's driving styles, the connection felt natural and invigorating.

You both understood the pressures of the sport, yet you managed to find joy in the little moments, whether it was a shared laugh over a silly meme or a light-hearted debate about the best racing video games.

This bond not only made your time together enjoyable but also fostered a sense of trust and teamwork that would prove invaluable as the season progressed.

During your initial week in Formula 1, the team was treated to a mix of corny jokes and uproarious laughter, creating an atmosphere that was both fun and relaxed.

It was clear that the camaraderie between you two was something special, and it didn’t take long for everyone to notice. The garage, usually filled with the tension of competition, transformed into a space of joy and lightheartedness.

You and Max would often engage in playful challenges, like who could come up with the worst dad joke or who could impersonate the team’s engineers the best.

These moments not only broke the ice but also helped to build a strong team spirit.

The mechanics and engineers, who often worked long hours under pressure, found themselves smiling more often, and the overall morale of the team improved.

It was as if your infectious energy had a ripple effect, reminding everyone that while racing was serious business, it was also about passion, fun, and the love of the sport.

Christian Horner, the team principal, seemed to recognize this chemistry right away.

He confidently remarked to the media about the dynamic of having a girl and a boy on the same team, suggesting that he had a good feeling about the partnership.

His words resonated with the fans and the media alike, sparking conversations about the evolving landscape of motorsport and the importance of diversity within the sport. It was evident that the two of you were destined to make waves together on and off the track.

Christian’s faith in your partnership only fueled your determination to succeed.

You both knew that the expectations were high, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced the challenge.

"Joseph, can you give me an update on the gap behind?" you inquired, your voice steady as it crackled through the radio to your race engineer.

The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of the high stakes at play.

"You're looking at a 5-second lead over Norris, Y/N," Joseph Duke responded, his tone calm and focused.

As you navigated the track, the adrenaline surged through your veins, heightening your senses.

The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, but your focus remained solely on the asphalt ahead.

Max was currently leading the race, and you were right on his tail, just a heartbeat away from making a decisive move.

With the world championship points on the line, every second counted, and the team’s strategy was crucial.

"Copy that, Joseph. I’m feeling good about this pace. Should I push to overtake Max?" you asked, weighing your options.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you could almost hear the roar of the crowd in your mind, their cheers and gasps fueling your determination.

You could picture the fans waving flags, the excitement building as the race unfolded.

"Remember, he’s leading the championship, so those points are vital for him," Joseph reminded you, his voice steady and measured.

You took a deep breath, considering the risks and rewards of your next move. The thought of overtaking Max was tantalizing, but the consequences of a miscalculation loomed large.

"Understood. But if I don’t make a move soon, he might pull away," you replied, your mind racing through the possibilities.

You could see the track ahead, the curves and straightaways that could either make or break your race.

"Just keep your head in the game, Y/N. Focus on your lines and stay patient. The opportunity will come," Joseph advised, his experience guiding you through the chaos.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, reminding yourself that patience was key.

As you approached the next turn, you felt the car respond to your every command, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision.

You could see Max’s car just ahead, a flash of blue and white, and the urge to push harder surged within you.

"Alright, I’ll hold back for now, but I’m ready when the moment strikes," you said, determination lacing your words.

The opportunity to seize the grand prix had slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of second place as Max celebrated his victory.

It wasn’t that you felt anger towards him; after all, the stakes were high, and the competition was fierce.

You had performed admirably, even outshining Checo this season, and Red Bull was finally back to their P1-P2 glory.

As you stepped out of your car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you spotted Max waiting for you, his helmet off and a look of concern etched on his face.

He rushed over, his expression serious as he enveloped you in a quick hug. “You don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected question. Removing your helmet, you met his gaze with a warm smile. “Of course not! But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next week,” you replied playfully, your competitive spirit igniting once more.

Max’s face lit up with a genuine smile, the tension dissipating. “Mate, I won’t go down that easy!” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of rivalry.

As you made your way to celebrate with the team, you noticed the difference in how they treated you compared to Max. While he was hoisted into the air, receiving enthusiastic cheers and bone-crushing hugs, you felt a more cautious approach directed your way.

It was a subtle reminder of the gender dynamics at play in the sport. You brushed it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie and the shared passion that brought you all together.

The post-race atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout of joy.

You joined in the celebrations, clapping your hands and cheering for your teammates, but a part of you remained introspective.

You replayed the race in your mind, analyzing every corner, every overtaking maneuver, and every missed opportunity.

The thrill of competition was intoxicating, but so was the desire to prove yourself, not just to the team but to the world.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself lingering at the periphery of the lively celebration, your gaze fixed on Max as he reveled in the spotlight of his victory.

He was the star of the night, the one everyone clamored to congratulate, while you stood in the shadows, merely the second driver.

Christian approached, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, a gesture of appreciation for your support. Yet, it felt insufficient.

You masked your feelings with a bright smile as you watched Max raise his glass, laughter spilling from his lips as the clock inched toward midnight.

“Goodnight, Max,” you called out, aware that your boyfriend, Jake would be less than pleased if you lingered too long.

“Goodnight, best friend! Did I mention you look lovely tonight?” Max replied, his words slightly slurred as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No, you didn’t! Thank you, Max. You look great too!” you managed to say, your heart fluttering at the compliment.

As the night wore on, you exchanged goodbyes with the others, the atmosphere buzzing with joy and celebration.

You decided it was time to head home, opting for a taxi since you had indulged in a few drinks earlier.

Once inside the cab, you leaned back against the seat, reflecting on the evening. The laughter, the cheers, and the way Max had shone like a beacon of success.

It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself of the bond you shared.

The driver navigated through the city streets, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the photos from the night.

There was Max, grinning ear to ear, surrounded by friends, and there you were, a supportive figure in the background.

Just as the car turned, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced down to see a message from Jake.

“Where are you?” he texted, the words appearing on your screen like a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting for you at home.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection as you typed back, “Just left the party! On my way home now. Can’t wait to see you!”

The taxi weaved through the city streets, and you could almost picture him waiting for you, perhaps pacing a little, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was worried.

You could hear his voice in your head, teasing you about how you always took too long to say goodbye, but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.

As the taxi pulled up to your building, you felt a flutter of excitement. You paid the driver and hurried inside, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you stepped into the apartment, a heavy scent of alcohol hit you like a wave, and your heart sank.

The cheerful anticipation you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You knew Jake had been struggling lately, and the telltale signs of his mood were all around you.

Empty bottles cluttered the coffee table, their labels peeling and faded, remnants of nights spent drowning sorrows that seemed to multiply with each passing day.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously made your way further inside, hoping to find a glimmer of the warmth you once cherished, a flicker of the love that had once filled this space.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you called out, trying to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, but your voice felt small and fragile against the oppressive silence that enveloped the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Just then, he emerged from the shadows of the living room, his eyes glassy and unfocused, as if he were peering through a fog that had settled deep within him.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word laced with bitterness. “Did you have fun pretending to be normal out there?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, hurling insults that cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

It was as if he was trying to push you away, to create a chasm between you that felt insurmountable.

And yet, amidst the hurt, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved, the one who was lost beneath layers of pain and anger.

“Why do you always have to do this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in your tone betraying the strength you wished to project. “I just want to help you.”

He scoffed, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand, the gesture almost theatrical in its disdain. “Help? You mean control. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You’re just like everyone else, trying to tell me what to do.”

The words stung, and you felt the weight of his accusations pressing down on you, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

“I’m not trying to control you,” you replied softly, “I just want to be there for you. Can’t we talk about this?”

But as you looked into his eyes, you realized that the man you once knew was slipping further away, lost in a haze of his own making.

His gaze, once so full of life and passion, now seemed clouded, distant. It was as if he was peering through a murky window, unable or unwilling to see the vibrant world outside.

You could see the shadows of his struggles etched on his face, the lines of worry and anger deepening with each passing day. It pained you to witness this transformation, to see the light in him dimmed by his own fears and insecurities.

“Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help?” you pressed, your heart racing as desperation crept into your voice. “I’m not your enemy. I want to understand what you’re going through.”

You took a tentative step closer, hoping to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable.

But he recoiled slightly, as if your words were a physical blow, and the distance between you felt more pronounced than ever.

“Understand?” he scoffed, his tone laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz in and understand? You have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped, to have every choice taken from you. You don’t know the weight of this burden.”

His voice cracked, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado.

As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake brushed by you, grabbing his coat and shoes in one swift motion.

"I'm heading out for a walk. Don't even think about following me," he snapped, his words laced with the sting of alcohol.

You simply nodded, feeling a mix of concern and frustration, but you stayed rooted in place until you heard the door slam shut behind him.

With the sound echoing in the silence, you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. You glanced around the room, the remnants of the night scattered everywhere—empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the floor.

"Guess it's cleanup time," you muttered to yourself, bending down to gather the bottles. As you worked, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from your best friend, Sarah.

"Hey! How's everything? You okay?"

You sighed, typing back quickly. "Not great. He just stormed out after a fight. I’m cleaning up the mess now."

A moment later, your phone chimed again. "Want me to come over? I can help."

You hesitated, glancing at the door. "No, it’s fine. I just need to sort things out."

"Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now."

You paused, considering her words. "I’ll be okay. I just need to think."

As you continued to tidy up, you replayed the argument in your mind. It had started over something trivial, but the alcohol had turned it into a full-blown fight.

You could hear his voice in your head, the way he had raised his tone, the way he had dismissed your feelings.

"Why does he always do this?" you whispered to yourself, frustration bubbling up again.

You were well aware that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

After tidying up the house, you decided to treat yourself to a long, relaxing bath.

The warm water enveloped you, washing away the day’s worries. Once you felt refreshed, you slipped into your favorite pajamas and crawled into bed, the soft sheets providing a comforting embrace.

He hadn’t always been this way—filled with anger and lost in the depths of alcoholism.

You both had shared a beautiful love story, starting as high school sweethearts. You could still remember the way he used to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection, mirroring the love you felt for him.

As you lay there, memories flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you had built together. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by the weight of his struggles.

Maybe it was the pressure of work that was taking a toll on him. You thought back to the last time you had a heart-to-heart.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about our future?” you had asked him one evening, the two of you sitting on the porch, the sun setting in a blaze of colors.

He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Things can get better, you know. We can work through this together,” you had urged, your heart aching for the man you once knew.

He had looked away, his expression clouded. “I don’t know if I can. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

You had reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the distance between you grew. The man you loved was slipping away, replaced by someone you barely recognized.

Now, lying in bed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to you. Would he remember the love you once shared? Would he fight against the demons that haunted him?

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would bring a glimmer of hope, a sign that the man you loved was still inside, waiting to break free.

As you settled into bed, the glow of your phone screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a flurry of notifications that had accumulated while you were winding down.

Most of them were filled with excitement, congratulating you on your impressive second-place finish in the race. However, amidst the sea of cheerful messages, one stood out—a private note from Max.

While some comments stung with negativity, suggesting you didn’t belong in the world of Formula 1, Max’s message was a beacon of warmth.

“Thanks for coming to celebrate with me 👍,” it read, and a smile crept across your face, momentarily pushing away the weight of the harsh words.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you, and for a moment, tears threatened to spill over. But instead of succumbing to the sadness, you decided to respond to Max.

Your fingers danced over the screen as you typed, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you deserved it! 😁” The moment you hit send, a sense of relief washed over you.

It was a reminder that amidst the criticism, there were still those who appreciated your presence and celebrated your achievements.

You could almost hear Max’s laughter echoing in your mind, a sound that always seemed to lift your spirits.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, a new message popped up from Max. “You really made the night special! I’m glad you were there. Let’s catch up soon?”

His words filled you with warmth, and you could picture him grinning with alcohol still in his system, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

After setting your phone aside for the night, you drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the world outside fading into a distant memory.

When you awoke, you were enveloped in a warm embrace, the kind that felt like home. Instantly, you recognized the familiar presence of Jake, his body radiating warmth against yours.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of his previous night out with friends, a detail that both amused and concerned you.

A smile crept across your face as you turned to see him, his features relaxed and serene, a stark contrast to the tension that had marked his demeanor the night before.

Curiosity sparked within you, igniting a flurry of questions as you pondered where he had spent his time, what stories he might have to share, and whether the night had been as wild as you imagined.

You felt a rush of affection for him, a desire to know every detail of his adventures, to understand the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Despite the warnings from your friends urging you to reconsider your relationship, your feelings for him remained steadfast, unwavering like a lighthouse in a storm.

They claimed he was a source of trouble, a tempest that could jeopardize your career and stir up scandals that would ripple through your life.

Yet, deep down, you understood him better than they did, seeing the layers of his character that they overlooked. You believed in his integrity, in the goodness that lay beneath the surface, and you knew he wouldn’t intentionally cause chaos in your life.

Their concerns echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing against a far-off shore.

You were determined to forge your own path, to trust your instincts, and to embrace the love that had blossomed between you, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of skepticism.

Although your relationship was already in the public eye, with whispers and speculation swirling around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind, he had yet to join you in the paddock due to his work commitments.

You felt a mix of anticipation and longing, a bittersweet ache in your chest as you navigated the bustling environment without him by your side.

As you glanced at your phone, the screen illuminated the early morning hour, signaling it was time for your daily jog.

You carefully extricated yourself from Jake's embrace, trying not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Just as you were about to tiptoe out of the room, you caught a faint mumble escaping his lips, a mix of sleep and concern. “Where are you going?” he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness.

You paused for a moment, torn between the urge to reassure him and the need to stick to your routine.

“I’m just going for a quick run, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” you replied softly, hoping to ease any lingering worries. His brow furrowed slightly, even in his sleep, as if he sensed your departure was more than just a morning ritual.

“You always run too early… what if someone sees you?” he muttered, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, even in his dreams.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just me and the open road. You know I love my morning jogs.”

You could feel the tension in the air, a familiar weight that often accompanied your outings. “Okay,” he finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in his tone.

You quickly changed into your jogging attire before stepping out of the house. With a sense of urgency, you slipped into your comfortable workout gear, ready to embrace the fresh air outside.

The fabric of your favorite moisture-wicking shirt clung to your skin, and the soft elastic of your running shorts felt familiar and reassuring.

You laced up your well-worn sneakers, the soles still resilient from countless miles, and took a moment to stretch your legs, feeling the anticipation build within you.

Once dressed, you felt the excitement of the run ahead, eager to hit the pavement and enjoy the rhythm of your feet against the ground.

The world outside beckoned, vibrant and alive, as you opened the door and stepped into the crisp morning air. The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filled your lungs, invigorating your spirit.

You took a deep breath, letting the coolness wash over you, and with a quick glance at the sky, you noted the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the horizon.

As you began to jog, the familiar cadence of your heartbeat matched the steady thump of your feet on the pavement. Each stride felt liberating, a release from the confines of the day-to-day.

You could feel the tension of the week melting away with every step, replaced by a sense of freedom and clarity.

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that accompanied you on your journey.

As you were enjoying your morning jog through the park, the rhythmic sound of your feet hitting the pavement was suddenly interrupted by a group of enthusiastic voices.

A cluster of women and girls approached you, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Excuse me! Miss Y/N! Can we get your autograph?" one of them exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

You paused, a bit surprised but also flattered, and smiled at the eager crowd. "Of course! I’d be happy to," you replied, pulling out a small notepad from your pocket.

Amid the chatter, a young girl stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want to start go-karting because I want to be just like you!" she declared, her voice filled with determination.

You could see the passion in her eyes, and it warmed your heart. "That’s amazing! Go-karting is such a fun sport," you encouraged her. "What do you love most about it?"

The girl beamed, her confidence growing as she shared her dreams of racing and the thrill of speed. "I love the idea of being in control and going fast! It looks so cool!"

You nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility to inspire her. "You know, every champion starts somewhere. If you really want to do it, just keep practicing and never give up. Surround yourself with people who support you, and you’ll go far," you advised, hoping to instill a sense of belief in her.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. "I will! Thank you so much!"

As the group dispersed, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, realizing that your journey could inspire others to chase their dreams, just as you had. . . .

As the days rolled on, the team decided to spice things up a bit before race week by organizing a fun game called "How Well Do You Know Each Other."

The idea was to not only entertain the fans but also to give everyone a glimpse into the camaraderie between you and Max.

You found yourself standing in front of the camera, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you, while Max lounged comfortably on the sofa behind you, his headphones snugly in place, unable to listen in.

The staff kicked off the game with a playful tone, "Alright, let’s start with you! The first question about Max is… what is Max's favorite food?" You grinned, confident in your knowledge of your teammate.

"Oh, I know this one! Max is a huge fan of both Italian and Dutch cuisine, while I personally lean more towards Spanish dishes," you replied, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

The crew chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter, and you could see Max nodding in agreement, a smirk on his face even though he didn't know what you said.

After a few more questions, it was time for the roles to reverse. You took a seat on the sofa, and Max stood in front of the camera, a playful glint in his eyes.

The staff asked him the same question, and he leaned forward, a teasing smile forming. "Well, I know my teammate pretty well! She loves her Spanish food, but I think she secretly wishes she could cook like an Italian chef," he joked.

"You better be getting this right, I wanna beat Charles and Carlos' record," you said, feeling the competitive in you to beat Ferrari's record of 18 out of 20 right.

Max only turned around and gave an okay sign since you couldn't hear him, adding a little small wink for the tease but it was caught on camera.

In the end, both you and Max aced all the questions, and the excitement bubbled over as you jumped up and down, your energy infectious. Max stood nearby, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your enthusiasm.

"See, everyone! Red Bull is clearly the superior team compared to Ferrari, so make sure to support us this week!" you exclaimed, wrapping up the video with a flourish.

As you turned to Max, you noticed he was still gazing at you, lost in thought. It took you by surprise.

"Max, do you want to add anything to what I just said?" you asked, a playful grin on your face as you nudged his shoulder gently.

Snapping back to reality, Max turned to the camera, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.

"Oh, umm, yeah… Red Bull domination, I guess?" he replied, his voice a mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response, and Max's smile widened, clearly pleased that he could make you laugh.

"Alright, everyone, that's a wrap! We'll catch you all soon. Fingers crossed for another P1-P2 finish, but maybe next time we can switch things up a bit," you said, waving enthusiastically at the camera.

As the camera clicked off, you turned to the crew with a warm smile, expressing your gratitude for their support. You shifted your focus to Max, who was standing nearby, a mix of anticipation and amusement on his face.

"Hey, Max," you began, a playful glint in your eye. "How does it feel to be the most compatible drivers on the grid?"

Max's eyes widened slightly at the phrase "most compatible," and you could see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. But as soon as he processed the word "driver," his expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.

"It feels nice, I guess," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Just another thing to brag about to Lando, right?"

You chuckled, knowing how much Max loved to tease his fellow drivers. "Oh, absolutely! I can already picture it—Lando rolling his eyes while you go on about how you and I are the ultimate duo."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "He'll probably come up with some ridiculous comeback, like how he’s the best driver in the world or something."

"Well, he does have a knack for that," you said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the banter. "But let’s be honest, you two are like an old married couple. Always bickering but secretly caring for each other."

Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I can barely handle my own sleeping schedule!"

Max shrugged, a hint of humility creeping into his demeanor. "But honestly, having you around makes it easier. You bring a different energy to the team."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot coming from you. I think we balance each other out pretty well."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, it’s like we have this unspoken understanding. You know when to push me and when to let me breathe. It’s refreshing."

"Exactly! And it’s not just about racing; it’s about the camaraderie we build off the track too. Those late-night strategy sessions and the random moments of laughter—they all add up."

Max chuckled, recalling a particularly ridiculous moment from a previous race weekend. "Remember that time we got lost trying to find the catering tent? We ended up in that random fan zone instead!"

You burst out laughing, the memory flooding back. "Oh my god, yes! And those fans were so excited to see us, they thought we were there for a meet-and-greet! We ended up taking selfies with them for an hour."

"Right? And then we finally found the catering tent, only to discover they were out of your favorite pasta!" Max added, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That was a tragedy," you said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "But it turned into one of the best days. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything."

Max’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a genuine smile breaking through. "Me neither. It’s those little things that make all the hard work worth it."

You both stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the camaraderie between you palpable. The atmosphere around the paddock buzzed with activity, but in that moment, it felt like you were in your own little world.

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Max said, breaking the moment with a playful nudge. "Let’s get back to business. We’ve got a race to prepare for, and I can’t let you steal all my glory."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Oh, please! You know I’m just here to make you look good. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing the reigning champion."

What you two didn't know was that the cameras didn't stop but recorded your little moment, which went viral in the few minutes that it was posted. . . . .

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You knew that the public would start shipping you and Max together sooner or later but you weren't bothered with it.

You had a boyfriend who you cared for deeply, someone who had been your rock through the ups and downs of your racing career. Yet, his reaction to the swirling rumors about you and Max took you by surprise.

You never imagined he would be so affected by the gossip that seemed to spread like wildfire through the paddock and beyond.

Here you were, caught in a web of emotions, torn between the thrill of a new chapter and the loyalty you felt towards your current relationship.

As you stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your shared space enveloped you, but it did little to ease the tension that hung in the air.

You found Jake lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and you could sense that something was off.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight on your shoulders. He barely looked up, his fingers scrolling furiously, as if searching for answers in the digital chaos.

“Did you hear about you and Max?” he finally snapped, his voice laced with irritation, cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s all over social media. Are you really going to let this get to you?”

You felt your heart sink; you had hoped for a different reaction, one that would reassure you that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the storm of rumors.

“Come on, it’s just rumors,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor in it betrayed your inner turmoil. “You know I’m committed to only you.”

You watched as he shot you a skeptical glance, his jealousy bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. “Yeah, but how can I trust you when you’re out there with him all the time? It’s not just a coincidence that everyone is talking about it.”

The words stung, and you took a deep breath. "Babe I love only you-"

"Please, don’t even think about it! You know I’m stuck here because if I walked away, your fans would make my life a living nightmare," Jake exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling from the harsh reality of your situation.

It was as if he had taken a knife and twisted it, exposing the raw vulnerability you had tried so hard to hide.

You could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you could sense the tension between you growing thicker by the second. It was a battle of emotions, and you were losing ground.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it’s not fair, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, my fans. I can’t let them down."

His eyes softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the man you fell in love with.

"But I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we find a way to make this work?" You pleaded.

"I don't know," he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his phone before standing up and walking past you to get his coat and shoes. "i'm gonna take a walk,"

This has been a pattern for weeks now. You would come home, he would start an argument then make up an excuse to leave the house, leaving you to either pick up his mess or go to sleep without your partner. To only wake up with him cuddling you in the morning and apologise for his action last night.

You were getting sick of it but you still love him too much to break up with him. . . .

The days that followed were a blur of introspection and emotional turmoil. Each time you caught a glimpse of Jake’s name on your phone, a knot formed in your stomach.

You had always been the type to see the good in people, to believe that love could conquer all, but the reality of your situation was becoming harder to ignore.

The moments of tenderness were overshadowed by the growing unease that settled in your chest like a heavy stone.

You spent more time with Sarah, who seemed to sense your internal struggle. She filled your days with laughter and distraction, taking you out for coffee, long walks in the park, and movie marathons that kept your mind off the impending decision.

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the thought of Jake lingered like a shadow, reminding you of the grip he had on your heart—and not in a way that felt safe or loving.

One evening, as you and Sarah sat on the balcony watching the sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, she turned to you again.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but you have to prioritize your happiness. You can’t keep living in this limbo," she said, her voice steady and unwavering.

You looked out at the horizon, the beauty of the moment contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you.

"I know," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "But what if I’m wrong? What if he really can change?"

The fear of making the wrong choice loomed large, a specter that haunted your thoughts.

"Change is possible, but it has to come from him, not from you hoping for it," Sarah said gently. "You can’t be the one to fix him. You’re not responsible for his happiness or his growth. You deserve to be with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You thought back to the last time he had gripped your arm, the way his eyes had darkened, and how you had brushed it off as a moment of frustration.

But now, in the light of day, you could see it for what it was—a warning sign that you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

That night, as you lay in bed, the silence of your room felt deafening. You replayed every moment of your relationship, the good and the bad, and slowly, the scales began to tip.

The holiday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and soon you found yourself stepping into the paddock alongside Sarah and Jake.

As you walked, you could feel the tension in the air; Jake wore a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, gripping your hand a little too tightly.

“Hey, look at all the fans!” you exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as you waved enthusiastically at the crowd, signing autographs for those who called out your name.

Sarah, taking a break from her hectic job, had decided to join you, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the bustling atmosphere.

“Isn’t this amazing?” you said, glancing at Sarah, who was snapping pictures with her phone. “I can’t believe how many people came out today!”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s like a mini-celebration! But where’s your boyfriend? He seems a bit off today.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the concern. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just tired. We haven’t really talked much since we got back.”

You stole a glance at him, who was still smiling, but it felt forced, like he was putting on a show for everyone around.

You made the decision to invite Jake into your driver’s room for a heart-to-heart conversation. As you settled into the familiar space, you turned to him with a gentle concern.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Jake looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and longing, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m alright, really. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” he replied, his tone sincere.

In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth; you had missed the comfort of his touch more than you realized.

“Jake, I need to let you know that I have to leave soon,” you murmured, trying to keep the conversation grounded. But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“Why don’t you just quit your job already? I can take care of you, I promise,” he suggested, his voice dripping with temptation.

The idea hung in the air between you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his offer.

It was tempting, but the passion you had for Formula 1 was a flame that burned too brightly to extinguish for anyone, even someone as captivating as Jake.

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “Jake, you know how much this means to me. Formula 1 isn’t just a job; it’s my dream,” you replied, your heart heavy with the conflict.

He stepped back slightly, his expression shifting from desire to disappointment. “I get it, but can’t you see how much I care about you? I want us to be together, and I thought you felt the same way,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and it pained you to know that your passion for racing was creating a rift between you.

“I do care about you, but I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve worked for,” you insisted, hoping he would understand.

As you stand there, the tension weighs heavily in the air, palpable and thick, as Jake's frustration spills over, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and desperation.

"But what about me?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer that you know is difficult to provide. "Since you started this job, we haven’t done anything together. All you've been doing is hanging out with that Max boy. Don’t you see it?"

His words cut through the silence, piercing the surface of your mind and forcing you to confront the tangled web of your life that feels all too overwhelming at this moment.

As you gather your thoughts, aware that the job has transformed your priorities and the once-familiar relationship with Jake has shifted, you attempt to articulate your feelings, to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding.

"Jake—" you start, your voice tremulous, hoping to weave a delicate thread of connection that can pull you both back to a place of understanding, but he interjects, the intensity of his emotions propelling him forward before you can offer your perspective.

"I’ll show you—don't worry," he mutters, the frustration lacing his tone beginning to dissipate as he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a gesture that is both protective and possessive.

The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the bond you once cherished.

Feeling the urgency of the moment, his lips find yours, a kiss that ignites a flicker of hope amid the turmoil of doubt and fear swirling around you. . . .

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

After the holiday break, you had started to act differently, almost as if a shadow had fallen over their usual camaraderie.

Whenever he approached to nudge her shoulder playfully, she would flinch, a look of surprise crossing her face as if she were bracing for something unpleasant.

It was a stark contrast to the easygoing banter they once shared, and he couldn't help but notice how she had become more withdrawn, often lost in her thoughts, her laughter replaced by a distant gaze.

He believed you were feeling down because the team was struggling to achieve the results they had hoped for.

Typically, his father would reach out to him after a disappointing race, sometimes even resorting to physical punishment if the outcome was particularly disheartening.

It was a routine he had come to accept, thinking it was a common experience shared by many.

However, everything changed when his therapist pointed out that not everyone endured such treatment, which sparked a rebellion within him against his father's harsh ways.

"Why do you always have to be so hard on me?" he had shouted one evening, frustration boiling over.

His father, taken aback, responded with a stern look, "Because I want you to be the best, Max. You need to learn that life isn’t always fair."

But Max felt differently; he wanted to be supported, not punished.

As he pondered your situation, he couldn't help but wonder if you had faced similar challenges.

"Do you have someone in your life who treats you badly?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge your response.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question before you shook your head, a small smile breaking through the clouds of doubt.

"No, not like that. Everyone is really supportive of me these days."

Max felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that you had not been in that cycle of abuse he had been so familiar with.

In many of the recent races, both you and Max found yourselves finishing in the P2 to P4 range, or sometimes not making it to the podium at all, which left the team feeling quite disheartened.

The once-promising season had turned into a series of missed opportunities, and the weight of expectations began to take its toll on everyone involved.

The atmosphere in the garage was thick with tension, and the engineers were working overtime to analyze data and strategize for the next race, but the results were still falling short of what the team had hoped for.

This situation also prompted Max's father, Jos, to plan a visit during the race weekend. He intended to check in on his son and perhaps give him a much-needed reality check, quite literally.

As the race day approached, Jos observed his son engaging in cheerful conversation with you, rather than focusing on the engineers to gather crucial insights, a routine Max typically adhered to before a race.

This deviation from his usual pre-race preparation did not sit well with Jos.

He had always believed that the hours leading up to a race were critical for mental conditioning and strategy formulation. To see Max laughing and joking instead of poring over telemetry data or discussing race strategies with the engineers was concerning for him.

Jos's frustration grew as he watched the interaction unfold. He believed that your presence was a distraction, pulling Max away from the intense focus required for peak performance.

In his eyes, the bond you shared with his son was undermining Max's potential to excel on the track.

He felt that friendships weren't important and they should not come at the expense of Max's dedication to his craft.

Jos was determined to address this issue head-on, convinced that a serious conversation was necessary to realign Max's priorities. . . . .

In the midst of a lively discussion filled with laughter and camaraderie, Jos abruptly interjected, "Max, I need to talk to you right now."

His tone cut through the jovial atmosphere, drawing the attention of both you and his son. The laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene.

Max's expression shifted from joy to disappointment as he glanced at you, yet he managed to offer a reassuring smile before reluctantly following his father away from the group.

"Yes, Father?" Max responded in Dutch, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The way he spoke suggested a mix of respect and wariness, as if he were bracing himself for a conversation he knew would be anything but easy.

Jos wasted no time in launching into his concerns, his words spilling out with a sense of urgency.

"You must distance yourself from that girl; she is a distraction that will hinder your performance in the race," he asserted, his tone firm and authoritative, as if he were delivering a decree rather than a request.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the lightheartedness that had just moments ago enveloped the gathering.

Max, however, was quick to defend you, his loyalty evident in the way he stood a little taller, his brow furrowing in determination. "No, she doesn't distract me, Father. She's my teammate," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.

The conviction in his tone reflected a bond that transcended mere friendship; it was a partnership built on shared goals and mutual respect.

Yet, as he spoke, the tension between father and son thickened, a palpable clash of wills that seemed to reverberate through the quiet space around them.

Jos, sensing the resistance in Max's voice, shifted his approach, employing subtle manipulation to sway his son’s perspective.

"Think about your future, Max. You have so much potential, and I only want what is best for you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to appeal to Max's aspirations.

The words were carefully chosen, designed to instill doubt about your influence, to paint you as an obstacle rather than an ally.

Max hesitated, caught between his father's expectations and his own feelings.

The internal struggle was evident on his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he grappled with the conflicting loyalties that tugged at his heart.

"It is evident in your results over the weeks, you've been falling off the high scores recently, hardly been able to reach third place because of that girl!" Jos stressed out and Max became quiet, letting those words sink in.

"Max, think about it," Jos continued, his tone shifting to one of persuasion. "You need to focus on your game and not let distractions get in the way. She's not worth it."

Max felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had always admired his father's wisdom, but now he sensed a subtle manipulation at play. Jos was trying to steer him away from his feelings, and deep down, Max knew it.

Yet, the idea of disappointing his father loomed larger than his own desires.

"Okay, Father," Max finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt a pang of regret as he agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing a part of himself in the process. As he walked away, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

Was it worth sacrificing his happiness for the sake of competition?

As he walked away, the sound of his father's footsteps fading behind him, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

The internal struggle was just beginning, and Max knew he had to find a way to balance his passion for the game with the complexities of his heart.

He thought of you—the woman who had sparked something within him, a light that had ignited a warmth he hadn't been able to feel like Daniel left.

After he began to distance himself from you, he noticed a change in your demeanor.

You seemed more withdrawn, putting on a facade of happiness with a constant smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding behind long-sleeved coats, even in the warm weather, creating a barrier between yourself and the world around you.

The vibrant laughter that once filled the air when you were together had been replaced by a silence that hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the occasional forced chuckle or polite nod.

Max could see the way your shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of unspoken words and unshared feelings was pressing down on you.

Your eyes, once bright with enthusiasm and mischief, now seemed clouded, reflecting a deep-seated sadness that you tried so hard to conceal.

He remembered the long pointless conversations, the dreams you both had shared, and the plans that now felt like distant memories. It pained him to witness your struggle, yet he felt powerless to bridge the growing chasm between you.

Despite the guilt that gnawed at him, Max couldn’t help but recognize a shift in his own performance on the racetrack.

He found himself consistently finishing on the podium, a stark contrast to your struggles as you remained trapped within the top ten.

Each trophy he lifted felt heavier than the last, a reminder of the friendship that had once fueled his passion for racing.

He could hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was how you used to be there, celebrating alongside him, your face alight with pride and joy.

While he celebrated his achievements, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.

The camaraderie they once shared seemed to slip further away with each passing race, leaving him to wonder if the price of success was worth the cost of their connection.

He often found himself glancing over at the empty spot in the pit where you used to stand, your eyes sparkling with encouragement, your voice ringing out with advice that had always kept him grounded.

As the races continued, Max felt a growing urgency to reach out, to break through the walls you had built around yourself.

But his father kept him grounded and not letting that thought come to life anytime soon. . . .

As you maneuver through the winding turns of the racetrack, adrenaline surges through your veins, a heady blend of focus and exhilaration.

"Joseph, what's the gap to Max?" you inquire, your voice steady despite the chaos enveloping you as you glance at the rearview mirror, noticing Charles's fierce pursuit as he falls into your peripheral vision, momentarily eclipsed by your recent strategic overtaking maneuver.

"2.3 seconds in front of you, Y/N," Joseph replies, his tone equally crisp yet slightly strained, hinting at the intensity of the moment.

The hum of the engine, the vibrations of the car, and the distant roar of the crowd blend into a symphony of speed, and as you negotiate the track, your mind sharpens with determination.

You consider your next move with meticulous care, knowing that a split-second decision could alter the course of the race.

Holding tightly to the steering wheel, you then ask, “Do I have permission to take over?”

Pause hangs in the air like a fragile breath, and you can almost anticipate Joseph's reply, especially given the longstanding tradition wherein hesitance often blankets these life-altering decisions.

Sure enough, after a fleeting silence, you prepare for the inevitable response that would echo in your ears like an unwelcome refrain, one you were all too familiar with.

But just as you brace yourself for a “no,” the radio crackles to life again—this time with a tidal wave of unexpected urgency.

"Yes! Y/N? Can you hear me? The team has approved the overtake of Max! Go for it!" Joseph’s voice bursts through with a burst of energy, jolting you from your reverie.

Instinctively, your foot plunges onto the accelerator as you channel every ounce of skill, focus, and ambition into propelling yourself forward.

You swiftly navigate the corner, your car gliding through the air like a bird released from captivity, and in that moment of pure adrenaline, you find yourself eclipsing Max, reclaiming the lead with undeniable ferocity.

As you settle into your newfound position at first place, the tension morphs into an exhilarating electrification coursing through your body.

Max, having momentarily lost his grip on the lead, now battles to fend off Charles and Lando from making any hazardous moves that might threaten your dominion at the front.

In the heat of the moment, the radio blaring with strategic updates fades into the background as your vision narrows solely on the track ahead—you are a race car driver, a gladiator in this battle of speed, and nothing else matters.

The world dissolves into monochrome, your focus unwavering as you grip the wheel like it’s a lifeline.

Distant cheers from the crowd seep through your concentration, yet you silence those voices, drowning out distractions as you become acutely aware of the weight of the race, the dreams that hang delicately in the balance—everything is at stake.

You feel sweat trickling down your temple and a syrupy mix of anticipation and fear soaring through your chest, but as you approach the final laps, triumph struggles to emerge from the depths of your hardwork.

Amidst the exhilarating distractions, your attention sharpens when you catch a faint echo of Joseph’s voice cutting through the chatter. "Y/N! You did it! You won!"

The joyous eruption on the other end floods your senses with disbelief, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you.

In that electrifying moment, as you maintain your grip on the wheel for the last few seconds, reality begins to wash over you like an exhilarating wave, and the tears you could feel brewing now threaten to spill, your triumph intertwining with your vulnerability.

With the checkered flag waving triumphantly in the air, you ease down on the accelerator, the sensation of victory swelling inside you as you let a muffled cry of delight escape your lips.

You slow your car and finally breathe, releasing all the pent-up energy, as the realization of your success resonates in every fiber of your being.

"You did it, Y/N! You won the grand prix!" Joseph's voice dances through the radio, resonating with an infectious glee.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and for the first time, the roar of the crowd—a melodic blend of cheers—warms your heart.

As you roll to a stop, the world around you crescendos into a celebration of your harrowing journey—each twist, each turn, each heartbeat racing in sync with the rhythm of victory.

The moment is surreal, and as you step out of the car, you are not just a racer anymore; you are a triumphant force that turned dreams into reality, and no title could encapsulate the pride swelling within you.

You parked the car in front of the first-place stand, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a moment to absorb the victory that had just unfolded; it was surreal, almost like a scene plucked from your wildest dreams.

You stood on the hood of your car, exhilaration bubbling up inside you as you raised your fists in triumph, thrusting them into the air with a euphoric fist bump that echoed your unrestrained joy.

The cheers of the crowd swirled around you, a chorus of celebration, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it paused in honour of your hard-fought achievement.

The weight of every early morning, every late night, every moment spent honing your driving in the shadows now seemed beautifully light, overshadowed by the sheer thrill of the moment.

As you jumped off the car with a renewed sense of vitality, you sprinted toward your team, their faces lit up with genuine happiness.

It marked a pivotal moment, one where they no longer treated you as fragile or merely a woman in a male-dominated sport; instead, they embraced you like a teammate, a winner.

You felt the warmth of their hugs wrapping around you, their joy infectious in a way that washed away any lingering doubts you had ever held about your place in this fierce and demanding environment.

“I can’t believe we did it!” you exclaimed, looking around at their beaming faces, heart swelling.

Some laughing tears glistening in their eyes, as they crowded around you, lifting you momentarily off your feet, celebrating not only your victory but the growth of a team bound together by perseverance and shared dreams.

Max eventually pulled up in front of the second-place station, his car’s engine rumbling to a soft stop just a few feet away from you. He stepped out, the sunlight catching the edges of his helmet as he removed it, revealing a look of pure delight plastered across his face.

It was a sight that brightened your heart; his genuine smile mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the fierce competition that had just transpired on the track.

You could hardly control the emotions that swelled within you. With an impulsive rush, you charged toward him, unable to contain the joy of your victory.

In a flurry of excitement, you leaped into his arms, a spontaneous act born from the adrenaline still dancing through your body. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cradling your back protectively, and in that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.

“I won!" you declared, breathless, your voice a mixture of disbelief and sheer happiness, as if saying it out loud might make the victory feel more real.

A grin split Max's face wider, and you could see the pride sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, you won! Congratulations!" he echoed, his voice turning melodic with the thrill of your accomplishment.

His embrace tightened around you, and you melted into the moment, filled with a sense of camaraderie and respect that had blossomed between you two over the course of your racing journeys.

As he set you back on your feet, laughter bubbled up once again, infectious and wildly free.

"I hope I didn't catch you off guard with that leap," you admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice as you took a sip from your drink.

"Not at all! I’m just thrilled for you," Max replied, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he gave you a friendly pat on the back.

After the interview with the top three winners, you, Max, and Charles settled into the conference room, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the race replay flickered on the screen. The tension was palpable as the footage captured the thrilling moments of the competition.

"Wow! That was such a turn!" Charles exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, clearly still feeling the adrenaline from the race.

He was referring to the intense maneuver where he nearly overtook Lando, a moment that had everyone on the edge of their seats.

As the race continued to unfold on the screen, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind racing with the events that had just transpired.

You focused on your breathing, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You had actually won.

Max, sitting beside you, noticed your silence and turned his attention toward you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked softly, breaking the tension in the room. His voice was steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the race replay.

You nodded slowly, appreciating Max's concern but still feeling the weight of the moment. "Yeah, just processing everything," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

After the conference wrapped up, the divers were given the freedom to either retreat to their driver’s rooms or celebrate with their teams and families.

However, the atmosphere was tinged with concern. The race winner was notably absent, and everyone had been eagerly anticipating a celebration for your first victory.

But after you dashed out of the conference room in a flurry, you seemed to vanish without a trace.

Everyone, especially Max, who had reached out to congratulate you repeatedly, was waiting, eager for you to join them in the festivities.

Max had noticed your absence almost immediately after the conference ended. The smile that had danced on his lips dimmed when you didn't join the team to celebrate; he frequently glanced toward the driver’s room, a sense of unease gnawing at his gut.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern deepened; it wasn't like you to shy away from such moments of triumph.

As teammates and family began to cheer and revel in the evening's wins, Max made the decision to search for you.

His quest took him to the paddock and then to your garage, but each passing minute only heightened his worries. "Where could you be, Y/N?" he murmured to himself, frustration lacing his voice as he traversed the familiar paths of the circuit, searching desperately for a glimpse of you.

His heart raced with anxiety; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, his gaze landed on the door of your driver's room, slightly ajar, like a whisper beckoning him to enter. Without a second thought, he approached and knocked gently, "Y/N, are you in there?"

Listening intently, he leaned closer to the door and was met with faint whimpers that sent a chill down his spine.

Panic surged through him.

This wasn’t just a moment of celebration for you; it felt like a cry for help, echoing through the cold corridor.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open wider, bracing himself for whatever he might find—though nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when the door creaked open.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare; your so-called boyfriend stood menacingly above you, his hand raised as if poised to strike, while your frail form displayed clear signs of distress—your face bruised, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as he took stock of the situation, the cruel contrast of celebration outside and the terrifying reality inside your room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Max's voice cut through the air, laced with fury as he stepped into the room, instinctively placing himself between you and the looming threat.

In that instant, your boyfriend's grip on your collar slackened, surprise washing over his features as he turned to face Max.

“Stay out of this, Max! This has nothing to do with you,” your boyfriend snarled, his bravado faltering under the sudden scrutiny.

But Max remained steadfast, stepping closer, his presence commanding as he glared at the man who had dared to raise a hand against you.

“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with me. Y/N is my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her,” he replied, his voice steady yet filled with palpable tension.

Your eyes met Max's, a flicker of hope igniting amidst despair, and despite everything, the warmth of that friendship washed over you.

Max's voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and urgency. "You need to leave now!" he shouted, his eyes locked onto your boyfriend, who stood there with clenched fists and a scowl that could cut glass.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice through. Your boyfriend hesitated, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but something in Max's tone made him reconsider.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment. "I’ll go, but this isn’t over."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving you and Max in a heavy silence.

“Max, please…” you managed to choke out, your voice hoarse as the fear and pain slowly ebbed. “I just…I just wanted to celebrate, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought…”

Your voice faltered as the tears resumed their steady flow. Max's gaze softened as he turned back to you, the protective barrier he had formed in front of you embodying more than just physical defense.

“You can trust me, Y/N,” he said firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern.

With Max's unwavering support behind you, the resolve within you began to build.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, but a hint of strength colored your tone.

[reallyromealone]

I need a SMILY FIC! Reader is the male version of Jessica Rabbit, and Smiley is his Rodger Rabbit. But nobody believes Smiley is married to the reader because they think he (the reader) is way out of Smiley's league. But it's Nahoya's sense of humor that won the readers heart.

Title: wifey

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Tokyo revengers ensemble

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: smiley x reader, Draken x Emma, takemichi x Hina, hanma x kisaki

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, reader is tall, suggestive themes, mentions of threesomes

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Smiley was a surprisingly private individual, he kept his shit to himself and so it was a surprise to everyone that he was not only in a relationship but engaged to one of the hottest person they ever saw.

(Name) Was a bombshell, the wet dreams of wet dreams.

"You are not engaged to him" Baji said simply and nahoya shrugged as he polished a glass at the bar area at the restaurant, him and Souya closing the shop for the day to have old Toman together for lunch "you are literally a gremlin! And he's like-- walking sex!"

"Keep getting bricked up for my fiance and I'm gonna kick your ass" smiley said coldly with a grin and Baji rolled his eyes "oi, Sanzu don't you deal with paranormal shit or whatever it is?"

"Parasocial and all the time, people think they know everything about me" he said simply as he sipped his sparkling water, Mikey nodding in agreement "I got people acting like they know exactly how I act... Real freaks"

"So delulu that he thinks he's with (name)" mitsuya picked up slang from his sister's and loved to use it much to the others groans.

"Keep acting like this and you're not invited to the wedding" smiley didn't have to wait to long though to prove his words true, (name) texting him that hes on his way with some snacks the pink haired man requested.

"Seriously, you're way to deme--"-- baby? They didn't have the chips you wanted so I opted for the second best thing" everyone turned to see (name) step in, the Haitani brothers awe struck and Draken surprisingly was the only one who believed smiley after all, how the fuck did Draken himself land Emma?

"Oh, 'hoya baby you didn't tell me you had company, I could have come at a later time" (name) was a fair bit taller than nahoya, from the looks he stood at the same height as hanma. Curves and an ass that could make a man drop, the married trio of pah, Draken and takemichi chatting amongst each other with no interest in the situation but the others... Smiley was about to break some fingers.

"Everyone, this is my fine as hell fiance! No we won't do threesomes so don't fucking ask!" (Name) Let smiley pull him to his side, the other kissing his cheek while he played with the hair at the nape of the older twins neck and smiled at Angry "I got you some gummy worms" he said calmly as he ignored the oggling from the others "it's a pleasure to meet Nahoyas friends, he's spoken of you all"

"Fondly I'm sure" kazutora said with a flirty grin and (name) tilted his head as he gazed into the others eyes "that's not the word I would use" (name) said simply as he watched the other struggle at (name)s naturally sultry gaze "how the fuck... Is this a thing" Kisaki said incredulously as Hanmas hand rested on the specticalled man's thigh, the boyfriends finding this fascinating yet strange.

Smiley was... Well smiley and (name) was sex incarnation.

"We met at a party and where everyone was trying to flirt... Hoya made me laugh" (name) said simply and nahoya looked SMUG as he let the other hold him close "why don't you head upstairs baby, I'll be up in a minute" Smiley sent (name) upstairs but not without a kiss that left (name)s (lipstick/lipgloss) on the others lips.

"You sure you aren't open to a threesome?" Mikey asked and smiley cracked his neck at that.

"Absolutely fucking not, you're not coming to the wedding"

[astrosamara]

Astrology Observations #2

🩵Mutable risings are constantly changing up their looks because they love experimenting with different aesthetics, whereas fixed risings tend to stick with the same look or a couple of looks throughout their life. They're not as comfortable with outward change.

🩵Mars in the 1st house makes someone a natural athlete and can excel in sports. Also a great placement for dancers.

🩵Saturn in the 1st house and/or Capricorn/Aquarius Rising age like fine wine. They often tend to be late bloomers as well who can feel awkward and uncomfortable with themselves in their early years, but start to grow more into their confidence later in life, specifically after their first Saturn return.

🩵Gemini Venus are so playful and flirty in their relationships. Humor and lightheartedness have to be prominent for them in their relationships to feel loved.

🩵Sun (the father) or Moon (the mother) in the 12th house can indicate that parent dying early in your life or it can represent them being emotionally or physically absent as well. It's spooky how many charts I've seen where this is the case. (I know death is a sensitive topic, so I don't want to freak anyone out by saying this placement is a 100% indicator of a physical death, because it isn't).

🩵I know Taurus' loving food is a huge stereotype, but it's so true! Every Taurus sun in my life loves to go out to eat, cook, or be cooked for and it's their love language. They can also be super big on physical touch such as massages and hugs. They're all about the senses.

🩵Leo moons tend to be the comedians of their family or friend group. They're the ones everyone relies on to bring the fun and playful energy. They really shine a light in people's lives.

🩵Jupiter transiting the 5th house the same time as a Venus return is a super powerful transit for love and romance. I've seen charts where this indicated marriage, meeting a long-term partner, or starting a new relationship.

🩵When it comes to transits, Saturn is the most important planet to look at imo because it's the planet of timing. Looking back on every time Saturn made a conjunction with one of my personal planets or angles, it highlighted a significant event/theme in my life.

🩵Someone having their moon in your 1st house you may notice that these are the people you find yourself easily letting your guard down around. It's easy and comfortable to be with them. This is a great placement for friendship.

🩵You may find yourself feeling soul-bonded to a pet who has their sun as your moon. My cat is a Pisces sun and I'm a Pisces moon and I've never felt such a strong connection to a pet before. He's my actual baby.

🩵Saturn in the 5th house typically aren't interested in having kids. They may feel incredibly overwhelmed by the pressures and responsibilities that come with raising children. If they decide to have kids, their kids can bring out a very karmic energy in them and can exasperate wounds from their own childhood. This can manifest as a positive or negative experience depending on the sign it's in and other aspects.

🩵Check where your 4th house ruler is in your chart. It can further indicate what your childhood was like. For example, I have an empty Gemini 4th house, but my 4th house ruler is in Mercury in my Scorpio 8th house making a conjunction with my Chiron and I had a very dark and traumatic upbringing.

🩵Nobody knows overthinking like a Virgo sun and/or mercury knows overthinking. Their brain is constantly thinking about what can go wrong in any given situation, scanning everything they need to check off from their mental to-do list before they can allow themselves to relax, and will bring up a specific worry you haven't even thought about. I only have a Virgo mars and that's enough Virgo energy in my chart for me. They are the living embodiment of anxiety.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Character Development

Rick Riordan's Writing Tips

Rick Riordan:

Character development is paramount for me. I firmly believe that plot and character development must occur simultaneously. Plot cannot be left to chance. Neither can characters be automatons who carry out actions envisioned in the author's master plan. Below are some things I try to keep in mind when developing my characters:

RICK RIORDAN'S TOP 5 TIPS ON CHARACTER

Define a character first through action, second through dialog and description, never through explanation.

A character should be primarily defined by the choices he makes, and the actions he takes.

How does he respond to violence?

How does he respond to love?

Secondly, a character must be vividly but deftly describe through his speech, and through the initial view you give the reader.

Never stop to explain who a character is when we can watch him in action and decide for ourselves.

Be impressionist rather than realistic.

Describe characters as Dickens did – with a single deft stroke.

A laundry list of physical traits is realistic, but it is neither memorable nor compelling.

A jarring metaphor for the character, or a focus on one mannerism or physical trait, can be very compelling.

Example: She was a human tornado.

Do not be afraid to use real people as models, but do not be constricted by your models.

It is very natural to use parts of ourselves or the people we know when creating characters.

Do not be afraid to do this because someone might get mad at you.

At the same time, let your character develop.

Do not force them to do what the real-life model would do.

Characters seldom end up exactly like the real people they are based on.

The reader does not have to be told everything you know about the character.

It may be critically important to you that your character has blue eyes, or went to Texas A&M.

But if these details have no part in the story, the reader will not care.

Leave them in your subconscious.

If you are having trouble figuring out a character, fill out a character profile, or do some journaling in that character's voice.

Your character must act, not simply be acted upon.

We care about characters because we are interested in the choices they make.

We want to boo the villain, cheer the hero, and cry with frustration when the tragic figure makes the wrong move.

A character who does not act, but simply receives information and is acted upon by outside forces, is not a character who will compel the reader.

Remember, plot is what the characters do next.

If the characters do not create the plot, the plot is hollow.

Here's a character profile worksheet I sometimes fill out if I'm having trouble understanding a particular character I've created:

Character Profile

Name:

Height:

Age in story:

Birthplace:

Hair color, length, style:

Race/nationality:

Regional influences:

Accent: (include voice, style of speech, slang, signature phrases or words)

Religion:

Marital status:

Scars or other notable physical attributes:

Handicaps: (emotional, physical, mental)

Athletic? Inactive? Overall health?

Style of dress:

Favorite colors:

How does the character feel about his/her appearance?

Brothers/sisters:

Relationship with parents:

Memories about childhood:

Educational background: (street smart? Formal? Does he/she read?)

Work experience:

Occupation:

Where does the character live now? Describe home (emotional atmosphere as well as physical)

Neat or messy?

Sexual preferences/morals/activities:

Women friends/men friends:

Pets?

Enemies? Why?

Basic nature:

Personality traits (shy, outgoing, domineering, doormat, honest, kind, sense of humor):

Strongest trait:

Weakest trait:

What does the character fear?

What is the character proud of?

What is the character ashamed of?

Outlook on life (optimistic, pessimistic, cynic, idealist)

Ambitions:

Politics:

How does the character see himself/herself?

How is the character seen by others?

Do you like this person? Why or why not?

Will readers like or dislike?

Most important thing to know about this character:

Present problem:

How it will get worse:

What is the character's goal in the story?

What traits will help/hurt the character in achieving this goal?

What makes the character different from similar characters?

Why will readers remember this character vividly?

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[navybrat817]

Puppy Dog Eyes

Pairing: William Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Will feels betrayed by someone he thought was his ally.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, talk of threats and interrogation, slight feels (it's me, okay?), William Miller (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by this post @ghotifishreads tagged me in. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Will counted the seconds in his mind as he stared his adversary down. Someone he should've considered an ally. Maybe even a friend. But now? He didn't recognize the beast in front of him.

He was used to people playing dirty behind enemy lines, but this? Betrayal in familiar territory? The sting was like a bullet to the gut.

“Before you test my resolve, I want you to know that I have forty three confirmed kills.”

A huff was the only reply he got.

Crouching down so he was at eye level, he huffed, too. His enemy was much smaller in size, but looks could be deceiving. “Now, I’m not going to hurt you. It wouldn't do either of us any good,” he said, tapping a finger against his thigh. “I just want to know why.”

He didn't get an answer. Only a defiant stare. The silent treatment. That was fine. Nothing he hadn't faced before. He had ways to make enemies talk if it came to that. And the puppy dog eyes wouldn't garner sympathy from him.

Battle had hardened him too much for that.

Shut down. Control. Manipulate. That’s what he did with his human instincts until he completed his mission.

Will continued the staring contest until the smaller one whined. It wasn't an answer, but it was a start. “You made this personal, you know. And I’ll throw you out in the rain if you push your luck,” he threatened, tilting his head to maintain eye contact. “No. You don't get to look away. Not after what you did. After I took you into my home.”

And how did he repay him?

“Honey?”

Your voice pulled Will’s attention away from the task at hand. “Yeah, baby?”

You leaned against the doorway, a smile tugging at your kissable lips. “Are you interrogating Bandit?”

Bandit, the puppy Benny got weeks ago. The puppy you offered to watch since his brother was going out of town for a few days and he didn't want to board him. The same little rascal who chewed up a pair of tennis shoes. New tennis shoes.

And hadn't touched a single one of his chew toys.

Will nodded to his ruined shoes. “You saw what he did.”

“I did and I'm sorry,” you said, though you had no reason to apologize. It wasn't like you chewed them up. “He’s a puppy and they’re going to do those kinds of things from time to time. Is it really worthy of an interrogation?”

“Yes, it is.” Bandit swung his head toward you and whimpered. “No, don’t you-”

“Aww. Is the former Captain bothering you?” You walked over and scooped him into your arms. The light golden puppy snuggled close, but looked at Will like he was taunting him. You had a soft spot for dogs and Bandit sensed that. Used it to his advantage.

“Taking his side?”

“I’m always on your side, Will,” you said, softening his resolve. “Now, Bandit, you know you aren't supposed to do that. Play with your toys, not shoes. Okay?”

Bandit barked. He actually barked for you. How did you do that?

“And apologize to Will,” you urged.

He barked again.

“Good boy,” you smiled as Will stood up and crossed his arms. “And don't worry, we won't throw you out in the rain.”

“I still might just to teach him a lesson,” Will half teased. “Or I can just put him in his cage.”

Bandit whined and hid his face. “Don’t you dare. He’s a puppy, not a soldier. And you were happy with watching him until now. Besides, he said he was sorry,” you said, giving Will your own set of puppy dog eyes.

You had a point. Bandit was a pretty well-behaved puppy, all things considered. He didn't bite. Didn't make a mess when he ate. Went to the door when he had to go outside. And he seemed content to sleep in his dog bed and didn't demand to sleep with the two of you.

“Fine. No cage,” he relented.

“Thank you. And I’m sure Benny will buy you a new pair of shoes once he gets back,” you added.

“Maybe,” he said. He wouldn't hold his breath to get new shoes or money for the damage done. He may be Benny’s big brother, but Benny adored his puppy and would likely blame him for leaving them out in the first place. He had a routine though. He put his shoes in the same spot after he exercised.

To be fair, he should've been more careful. He would be in the future. If anything, he could try to see the positive side of things and use this as a learning experience. That's what you tried to do when you ran into unfortunate situations.

“Is it a bad time to suggest we get our own puppy?” You asked, smiling as you lifted Bandit up higher and put his cheek against yours. “Chewed up shoes and a scratched up couch aside, it might be nice.”

Dogs did make for great companions. He’d be lying if he said he hadn't pictured the two of you having a kid and a dog for them to grow up with. Someone who would be a friend to and watch over his child.

“What do you think?” You smiled when he stayed quiet for too long.

He softly smiled. Most people couldn't sway him to do anything, but you had a way about you. Maybe it was because he loved you. “I’ll think about it.”

You put Bandit down before you leaned in and brushed your lips against Will’s. “Thank you.”

He went in for another kiss, but stopped when the words fully registered. “Wait.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you say scratched up couch?”

“...Did I say that? I don't recall.”

“I remember everything you’ve ever said to me,” he told you.

You put a hand over your heart. “That is so romantic.”

“And you said ‘chewed up shoes and a scratched up couch aside, it might be nice’, so what exactly did he do to our couch?”

Your eyes widened as you took a step back. “Run, Bandit!”

And he did.

I couldn't help myself. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : THE FACE BEHIND THE MASK : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Wade Wilson x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After months of dating Wade Wilson, you ask him to show his face, promising that his scars won't change your love. Despite his fears, Wade reveals himself, and you reassure him that he is beautiful just the way he is.

LIVING NEXT TO WADE WILSON HAD ALWAYS BEEN AN ADVENTURE. From the random explosions at odd hours (he called them "enthusiastic cooking attempts") to the incessant chatter that came from his side of the paper-thin walls, there was never a dull moment. Somehow, despite all the madness, you'd become fast friends. He’d wormed his way into your life with his never-ending supply of sarcasm, absurd humor, and unexpected kindness.

And then, somehow, you’d started dating. It wasn't the conventional type of dating—nothing was conventional with Wade. He’d whisk you away on spontaneous adventures that ranged from fighting ninjas ("It's like cardio, but with more blood!") to watching rom-coms while he provided his own colorful commentary.

But there was one thing that had never happened in those months. You had never seen his face. Sure, you'd seen his mouth, his jaw, the occasional glimpse of his eyes through the mask, but never the whole thing. He was always careful to keep the mask on, only slipping it off when he was sure you weren't looking.

At first, you hadn't pushed it. You knew about his past, the pain he'd endured, and how self-conscious he was about his appearance. But as your feelings for him deepened, so did your curiosity. It wasn't just about seeing the man behind the mask—it was about connecting with him fully, scars and all.

One night, after a particularly wild date that ended with Wade hog-tying a group of particularly rude henchmen ("They were asking for it! Literally, they asked if I could teach them some knots!"), you both collapsed on your bed, breathless and laughing.

"Wade," you said, once your giggles had subsided. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, but if it's about why I wear red, the answer is 'because it hides the bloodstains.' And also, it makes my butt look fantastic."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, it’s not that. I was just wondering... why don’t you ever show me your face?"

The room grew quiet, the only sound the faint hum of traffic outside. Wade’s usual banter was noticeably absent, and you could sense the shift in his mood.

"Oh, you know," he began, his tone a little too casual, "it’s just that I’m devastatingly handsome, and I don’t want you to fall even more in love with me. Also, there’s the possibility that you’ll look at me and your eyes will literally explode from the sheer beauty. It’s a risk, really. For your safety."

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his. "Wade, I know you're joking, but I also know this is hard for you. I don’t care about your scars. I care about you."

He hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. "I just... I don’t want you to see me and then regret everything. I’m not exactly Ryan Reynolds under here."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Well, good, because I’m not exactly Blake Lively."

He snorted, finally looking at you. "She wishes she was as cool as you."

Taking a deep breath, Wade sat up and reached for the edge of his mask. "Okay, but if you scream, I'm outta here. And I’m taking all the pizza."

"I promise not to scream," you said, your voice soft. "And I’m keeping the pizza."

With a final sigh, Wade peeled off the mask, revealing the man beneath it. His face was covered in scars, the skin rough and uneven, a far cry from the smooth, unblemished look he used to have. His eyes, however, were the same—warm, mischievous, and full of vulnerability.

You didn’t say anything at first, just took him in. Then, slowly, you reached out, tracing the lines of his face with your fingers. He flinched at first, but as you continued, his muscles began to relax.

"You’re beautiful," you whispered, meaning every word.

Wade rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Sure, if by 'beautiful' you mean 'looks like an avocado had a passionate affair with a much older, uglier avocado.'"

You laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "No, I mean you’re beautiful because you’re you. And I love you. All of you."

For a moment, Wade was silent, his usual stream of jokes and quips nowhere to be found. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it. "You really mean that?"

"I do."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "Well, in that case, I guess you’re stuck with me. Scars, bad jokes, and all."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way."

You spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. As you traced the lines of his face, memorizing every scar, Wade made a few more self-deprecating jokes, but they lacked the usual sting. Instead, they were softer, more playful, as if he was finally starting to believe that you could see beyond the surface.

As the night went on, your hands continued their gentle exploration, and Wade's breathing grew steady and calm. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly at peace, his heart no longer burdened by the fear of rejection.

And as you lay there, his head resting against your chest, you knew that no matter what, you would always find him beautiful—because beauty, you realized, was more than skin deep.

I fucking LOVE Wade!

I’m going to make a taglist for deadpool content! If you like to be added, let me know! 🫶

[sideysvault]

𐙚⋆° Convincing Deadpool that you like his face just as it is𐙚⋆°

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Friends to lovers. 500 wc

Warnings: Foul language

────────

- His morals had been down ever since he got rejected from the avengers. And as much as you tried to support his attempts at having a “normal” life, you couldn’t help but notice he was trying to hide and make himself smaller. You couldn’t stand it. You missed the man he used to be. The man you couldn’t help but have a massive crush on.

- Deadpool and you met fairly recently, but you clicked immediately. There was something about Wade’s personality that went really well with yours. You always knew you’d be in trouble if you two got close. You couldn’t help but be overly attracted by his unexpected acts of kindness, his loyalty, his humor and, of course, how his red suit tightly hugged his body.

-Even if you knew that he was going through a rough patch, you never expected it to go this far. You tried so hard to contain the snort that came out of you when you saw his “hair system”. And you failed miserably.

“You are a cruel, motherfucker. I hate you”

“Wade, baby. A wig?”

“It’s not a wig! It’s a hair system”

“Ok, sure. But you don’t need it. You know that, right?”

“I’m in sales for fucks sake. I’ll starve to death if I don’t wear this shit”

“Fuck. Them. Plus, A summer balayage it’s so not your style anyway

- Having dinner at his place had become a normal occurrence. Al would even sometimes join the two of you. And you couldn’t help but notice that he is always overly careful. Wade only lifts his mask enough for him to be able to eat. At the end of a particularly fun night (And, after having a couple of beers) You encourage him to take it out. All the way. You reall don’t mind.

“No, Cupcake. I don’t want you to choke on your food and die by shock. Imagine a third degree burn victim that somehow got Proctitis on their face. That’s me”

Your heart skipped a bit. Something turned in your stomach. The sudden feeling that he wasn’t really joking over you came all over your body. You were almost sure that your heart just broke a little bit. But you try not to push him too much.

You get up and come closer to him. You took all the courage you could mustard and gave him a little kiss on the right side of his chin. One of the few spots of his damaged skin that you’d seen

“I dunno. Seems pretty okay to me”

He lifted his gaze at you. Even with the mask on, you could tell he felt some sense of evasive curiosity. And just as you were starting to worry that you had gone too far… A cocky smile appeared on his face as he said “You can be sweet. Big time. Who would’ve guessed”

You mirrored his smile. And, God. You looked gorgeous. Wade always thought he never stood a chance. He wasn’t easy to be around, let alone love. But after all, the woman might just feel the same way he does.

That day, a beam of hope lingered over the two of you.

────────

Notes: Based on this request!. I might rewrite this very soon, life has been a bit more hectic than usual -Sidey x