#isabella extras

[hellodahliah]

another wip

based of the monty ranch from ts2 veronaville. it is about 80% finished. still need to do the kitchen (there is a bunch of clutter laying around on the floor), the living room, grandparents bedroom and on suite bathroom and then some landscaping to do but otherwise it is almost finished.

floorplan under cut:

[fullscoreshenanigans]

there are sometimes who is strange in all the side-information that we have about TPN.

In a interview, the author told that Grandma was the one to choose the names of the babies.

But in a bonus comic, Isabella tells Ray, Emma and Norman how she choose their name.

So either she lied...

Either that's a incoherence.

Either Grandma didn't name the kids who were going to Isabella to let her "daugther" names them as she want.

....either Grandma had given other names to kids who were going to the Grace Field House 3 an Isabella deliberally changed the names in a way to say "f*** you" to her former guardian (since the demons didn't care about the names) and claim the kids as her own. Carol is the only one to not have had a change of name because of Krone presence.

I don't know why but the last idea is hilarous to me ^^"

I default to the bonus comic being the most accurate to simultaneously keep any sisters in HQ from potentially getting attached to the infants by giving them official names and to make the moms more endeared and caring toward the children they named themselves (for reference for anyone who hasn't seen it; a reward for scoring high on the official site's IQ test:)

(Reprinted in The Promised Neverland Art Book World; one of the few times we get to see them with their short sleeves for warmer weather.)

Unless Shirai meant Sarah named them literally right before handing them off to the moms in the plants, but I don't believe she'd care enough then or at any point after becoming Grandma.

That last one is funny though dlkfjsd

The little petty ways you get back at your mom when you're both victims and perpetrators of a violent system.

But you're right; Shirai's said some conflicting things over the course of the series' run that I think come from being run ragged by a hellish production schedule and a work just naturally evolving as opposed to being antagonistically contrarian to spite fans he views as obnoxious.

The other two that readily come to mind are Shirai saying the series could range anywhere from 10 to 30 volumes long…

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | October 2018 Franceinfo Interview | October 2020 Series Completion Interview)

…before his health took a nosedive and saying it was always going to be 20 volumes at most, with him wanting to maintain his sense of artistic integrity by completing the series on his own terms (the similarities between this and the way Yoshihiro Togashi ended Yu Yu Hakusho, one of TPN's biggest inspirations, is sadly staggering).

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 5 | October 2020 Series Completion Interview | TPN Wiki's Chapter 134 Page | WSJ Editorial Department 9/5/19 Update)

And him (and Sugita) being purposely mum about how he felt about Noremma when speaking with Cloverworks staff during the production of season 1 in 2018 compared to what he mentioned to Kendo Kobayashi in an earlier January 2018 interview, assuming he ultimately wanted to leave it up to the audience's interpretation rather than imposing his own (Demizu notably interprets all the relationships in the series as platonic).

(Minerva Confidential Report from the S1 Blu-ray | Mystic Code Book Chapter 1)

[radiocatz]

"two tickets to Barbie please!!"

[tirastales]

(Princess) Isabella Astrid Trollzart

"Oh, hello! Sorry about the mess, I'm developing my photos at the moment. Gimmie one moment~"

Parents: Wolfgang Amadeus Trollzart and Dickory Müller (Step-Father)

Siblings: N/A

Age: 25

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Genre: Classical/Orchestral/Hip Hop

Voice Claim: Robyn Rihanna Fenty (Rihanna)

The only daughter of Trollzart and Dickory and future Conductor of the Classical Trolls. Gentle, sweet, if not a little soft-spoken, Isabella is the apple of her fathers’ eyes.

Other then training to be the future Conductor, Isabella does side work as a photographer. Poppy gifted her a camera to start up a scrapbooking hobby, but she completely forgot about that bit and fell in love with the camera itself. She'll often disappear for days going on photo trips, coming back with no film left, covered in dirt, and grinning ear to ear.

Isabella is very close with both of her fathers. While her other biological parent is unknown, Dickory came into her and Trollzart’s life when she was just a baby, and stuck around ever since. She can often be found either practicing music with Trollzart or sitting back and reading with Dickory.

Music wise, Isabella is a Classical troll through and through, being able to play almost every classical instrument ever created. However, she has a secret talent in the hip-hop genre. Isabella can spit rhymes like no ones buisness, challenging the skill of the most excelled musicians like Blaise or even King D himself. She's very private about this ability tho, only showing it to a handful of trusted friends.

Isabella currently resides in Symphonyville alongside her parents.

Fun Facts!

- Isabella is currently in a relationship with Choco, eldest daughter of Branch and Poppy. Choco invited her out one night to a club, and while there, a troll challenged Isabella to rap battle. To which she took the mic and DESTROYED him. Choco fell in love right then and there

- Isabella's hair and tail flow naturally without the need for wind. This ability has never been seen before, and still remains a mystery. Isabella doesn't care for it much, I mean YOU try styling shit that won't sit still!!

- Isabella pierced her ear on a dare. She did it with a needle and without any supervision (she was like 13). Trollzart nearly had a heart attack when he came to pick her up and saw her ear twice it's original size and bleeding.

And that's Isabella!! This is an edited version with Dickory as her step-father!! I originally posted her having only Trollzart cuz I thought I’d never ship him with anyone, but my terminal shippers brain said otherwise xD

I made her super pink cuz I thought it'd be fun. And why can she rap? Idk I thought it'd be funny xP

Voice Example:

[mafiaheiress]

FUN FACT : isabella hates valentine’s day, because flowers die & eventually, so does love. whose going to prove her wrong ?? 🙃

[incorrectfbaaquotes]

Poppy: Can I go to the pool?

Millicent: Sure, we’ll go as soon as I’m free.

Poppy: No, can I go by myself?

Millicent: You don’t want to go with me?

Poppy: You just go around challenging random people to cannonball contests.

Millicent: It’s the only way to establish dominance.

[yeahyosims]

Teehee she’s so pretty

[tristansarchive]

When You Move I Fall To My Knees

Summary: How much chaos can Jerome Valeska bring into a sweaty, anxious morning at school?

Honestly, Jeremiah should've seen it coming.

Words: 7,779, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

Additional Tags: Minor Original Character(s); Alternate Universe - High School; Morally Ambiguous Bruce Wayne; Rich Kid Bruce Wayne; Bruce Wayne & Jerome Valeska's Fellowship of Little Shits; Their Lives Are All So Dramatic The Incest Barely Registers; Pre-Slash; Soft Jeremiah Valeska; Protective Jerome Valeska; Anyone Called Co-dependency? It's Here; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Cheerleader Jerome Valeska;

Read on AO3!

[moltenzephyr]

[theceruleanskye]

Bella was clumsy. Even in vampirism, there were still times when she'd overestimate something and hit the ground. Other times, she was not paying attention, so she slipped on a patch of ice and hit the ground seconds ago. ❝ Ow! ❞ Her phone flew out of her hands, landing just before the other party. The text to Renesmee is still up with the first start of an answer y. . . ( meaning to finish it up with es ). The sidewalk was ice-covered, and while the vampire could usually catch herself, there was an urgency to text her daughter about Renesmee wanting to go hang out with a friend after class. There was the fighting with Edward about where they would be moving to next which neither of them could agree.

@girlsurvive ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ starter call

[lemongrad]

H E Y.

[knowinglewis]

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when he invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari, in Shanghai.

Word Count: 7,918

Warnings: Jealousy, anxiety, overthinking, angst, FLUFF, Lewis being the cutest ever. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Just want to say thank you all SO much for your kind words, it means so much to me to hear how much you're enjoying it, and I hope this next bit makes you happy! I have two more parts planned if anyone would be interested to see where else the story goes, let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list! Thank you SO insanely much for reading, please let me know your thoughts! 🤍

The early morning air of Shanghai kissed your cheeks like ice. The track was just waking up as you arrived, the morning sun shining across the asphalt in soft golden rays. The quiet hum across the paddock and the squeaky rolling of carts was a jarring contrast to the commotion of arriving in the afternoon, when screaming fans and media had flooded in alongside the roaring of engines. 

You kept your head down, scanning your pass against the gates and moved quietly as a staff member guided you along the edge of the paddock. This weekend was different to your time in Melbourne. You weren’t here with a group or even Isabella. It was just you and Lewis this time.

This time however, it had to stay quiet. Media was relentless, and the last thing you needed was to end up in the background of a photo, with millions of people online asking who you were to Lewis and why you were invited again. The world had its eyes on Lewis and any lucky lady he would be spotted with, so arriving extra early and discretion when interacting was important in order to maintain your own privacy.

You adjusted the firey red Ferrari jacket around your shoulders, still faintly warm from your body heat. It had been waiting for you in your hotel room when you checked in at the late hours of the night, set neatly beside a handwritten note which had been scrawled in quick, familiar handwriting:

Can’t wait to see you. Hope this fits. - L

Your heart skipped a beat the moment you saw it. After the long, hazy hours of flights and the uncertainty that lingered in your mind when you were alone or away from him, it was like releasing a breath you’d been holding for days. You weren’t sure if it was just the exhaustion, but you had just stood there in the early morning silence for a bit, reading the words over and over, giddy like a girl receiving a note from her crush in school.

You hadn’t expected the gesture, after everything he’d already done and set up for you. It made your heart swell with hope for the coming weekend.

You rounded the last corner toward the Ferrari garage and saw him immediately as you entered.

Lewis was speaking with a Ferrari engineer, who pointed to something out on a tablet screen. He was already dressed in his race suit, the sleeves of his overalls knotted around his waist. His intricately braided hair was tied back revealing the long eyelashes that framed his brown eyes. His eyebrows furrowed as he nodded at something the engineer said, until he looked up and saw you.

His whole face shifted, with a smile that always made it feel like the world paused just a little and you were the only person who existed. 

Lewis handed the tablet back to the engineer, nodding that he would speak to him later. The engineer greeted you politely before walking away, leaving Lewis to stride over towards you. You met him halfway, suddenly conscious of the way his eyes trailed over you.

“Good morning,” you smiled as you approached him, leaning into the hug he wrapped you in immediately.

“Good morning,” he replied softly, stepping back after releasing you to motion towards your outfit with a grin. “You look great, red suits you.”

You thanked him with a blush, touching a hand to the red fabric laid over your torso. “Thank you, by the way. For all of this, the jacket, the trip, the hotel...everything. I know how busy things are for you right now, and you didn’t have to go out of your way like this.”

He didn’t answer right away, he just looked at you in a way that made the rest of the world soften and slip away.

“I wanted to,” he answered, his sparkling eyes locking onto yours sincerely. “I like having you here with me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart fluttered at his words. You liked being here too. With him…more than you probably should.

Before you could speak again, he gestured toward the stairs leading up to the driver rooms. “Come with me for a sec, I need to grab something.”

You fell into step beside him, the sound of the Ferrari crew in the garage fading behind you.

“How was your flight?” Lewis asked as you climbed the narrow staircase.

“Early,” you shrugged with a slight laugh. “But I slept through most of it, the seat was so comfy.”

“You didn’t text me when you landed though.” He touched his hand to the small of your back delicately, concern in his voice.

“I figured you’d be asleep, it was pretty late when I landed,” you explained as you reached the top of the stairs.

“I still want to know you’re safe. Even if I was asleep.” He opened the door to his driver room, letting you walk in first.

You glanced at him before stepping inside, your heart tugging at the way he cared. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The door clicked shut behind you as you took a seat on the small bench along the wall, your eyes trailing over the room, taking it all in. It was the first time you’d seen his driver room in person. It was simple, neat, and definitely all his. You’d pictured it once or twice, sure, but you never really thought you’d find yourself inside.

Lewis crossed the room, heading toward his belongings on the table, picking up his helmet under one arm, notebook in hand on the other. Then he paused, before putting the items back down and reaching for something on the shelf.

A red Ferrari cap with a big 44 on the brim.

He turned back toward you, scanning your face like he was already amused by your reaction.

“Almost forgot,” he stepped in front of you and gently pulled the cap over your head, adjusting it with a quick flick of his fingers that brushed against your temples. “Perfect.”

“Do I look official now?” You lifted your chin, smoothing your hair along the sides under the cap, amusement in your voice contrasting with the warmth that dusted across your cheeks.

“Absolutely,” he chuckled, grabbing a little film camera from his desk and raising it to his eye.

“Wait, I’m not ready!” You moved to adjust yourself for a better angle.

“Nope.” He clicked the shutter and the camera flashed. “Caught you.”

Your lips pursed as you shook your head, rising to your feet with narrowed eyes and reaching for the camera. “That was a bad angle.”

“It wasn’t. You look beautiful,” he complimented, moving the camera away from your grasp.

Lewis always managed to take your breath away somehow, you never got used to it. The teasing in your chest fizzled into a warm sensation. You met his eyes, unsure what to say, before blinking down at the camera in his hands, heart thudding a little harder. 

“Fine.” You held a hand out, unable to hold back the smile pulling at your lips. “Your turn then.”

He paused, before placing the camera in your hold, and shifting back. He propped his helmet against his waist and gave you a smoldering look with his chin tilted slightly, as though he was on the set of a photoshoot.

“Seriously?” You snorted as you looked through the viewfinder, his serious pose making you giggle. “The smoulder? Really?”

“Hey, you said it was my turn,” Lewis shrugged, a grin brightening his face.

“Alright, Zoolander.” You laid your finger over the shutter, ready to take the photo as soon as you could catch the right moment.

Just like that, there it was. Your favourite laugh, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling as he beamed, spreading all the way across his face. You snapped the photo quickly before he could pull it back.

“That one’s mine.” Your voice was light and teasing as you lowered the camera.

He walked back over as you held it out to return it, but as he took it, your fingers brushed slowly. His skin was warm against yours, the touch sending a tickle up your spine that only made you want more.

Neither of you said anything right away, a comfortable exchange of chuckles filling the silence, until a knock came at the door. The voice on the other side informed Lewis that the car was ready for him, and he replied that he would be down in a moment. 

“I'm gonna spend some time with my baby before the sprint,” he explained as he reached for his helmet and notebook again.

“Your baby?” You questioned with a slight tilt of your head. 

“My car,” he clarified, excitement laced in his tone.

“Ohh. Yeah, no worries.” You nodded, a strange sense of relief washing over your shoulders. “I’ll go find somewhere with a good view, don’t wanna miss it.” “You can head to the team lounge if you’d like, I’ll come find you there after the race?” Lewis placed a hand on your shoulder, warm and grounding, like he was reluctant to leave just yet.

You gave him a nod in response, then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips to his cheek quickly. It was just a fleeting kiss, but it made his lips part slightly in surprise. His fingers tightened just barely on your shoulder as you moved back to your previous position.

“Good luck out there, I’ll be cheering for you the whole way.”

The sprint race came quickly that morning and you found yourself watching from the Ferrari suite through both the floor-to-ceiling length windows and the overhead screens. Glasses clinking and conversation filled the air, blending with the sound of the cars zooming across the track. 

You had found a comfortable, cushioned seat near the window, watching for Lewis with anticipation as he made his way through the track from pole position. The lounge was elegant, with sleek leather, espresso machines humming, and a panoramic screen that streamed the race in real-time.

This was meant to be a more private area for you to watch the race, without the eyes of the media to spot you and cause rumors to spiral. And yet, you felt eyes on you in a slow, assessing glance from a man a few feet away, lounging with a casual confidence that came from too much money and too little to prove. He didn’t approach, but his gaze lingered a moment too long. 

You ignored it, focusing on the Ferrari you were holding your breath for as Lewis weaved through each corner from the front. He was in control, assertive, clean, and relentless in his pursuit of victory. The camera followed his car with growing intensity, and every lap felt like it was leading to a glorious win.

And then, Lewis crossed the line first.

“LEWIS HAMILTON WINS FOR FERRARI FOR THE FIRST TIME!” 

A burst of cheers rang out across the lounge, fuelling the excitement in your chest. You brought your hands to your face and squealed quietly to yourself as the screen cut to Lewis stepping out of the car and waving to screaming fans. There was a sea of red in the grandstands, with giant posters and flags in support of Ferrari and Lewis himself.

He then rushed towards the Ferrari team who celebrated him at the barrier outside, with pats on the back as he moved along the group, before returning to his box and slipping his helmet off, his eyes lit with passion and joy.

Your heart swelled with admiration as you watched his grin spread ear to ear at the sight of the crowds in support of him. He tied his braids back and ran towards the grandstands again, showing his appreciation for the love with more waves.

It wasn’t just a sprint win, it was his first win in red, as well as the first sprint win for Ferrari. You could see just how much it meant to him, even through the screen. The proud look on his face and the energy in his voice said it all in the post race interview, before the small round trophies were handed out.

You slipped out quietly, wanting to beat the crowd and find your way back towards the garage to see Lewis once he’d finished with his team debrief. The corridor outside the lounge was lined with glass and steel, echoing with footsteps. You were halfway toward the connecting walkway when a familiar voice called your name.

Lewis jogged up, his race suit pulled halfway down to his waist, his Nomex shirt clinging to his frame. His braided hair was covered with a red cap matching yours, cheeks still flushed from the warm air and the rush of victory. You moved towards him, excited to congratulate him and celebrate his win.

“I only have a few minutes,” he said before you could open your mouth to speak, his voice was breathless yet bright, “but come with me.”

His hand found yours without hesitation, warm against your fingers as he tugged you away. You followed him toward the stairwell, his race boots tapping against each step while you climbed side by side speedily.

“You were unreal out there!” You breathed as you walked into his driver room, turning to face him. “I’m so proud of you! That gap was-” 

He cut you off by pulling you into his arms and scooping you off the ground, spinning you around once as you laughed, breath catching in surprise. 

“Lewis!” You exclaimed, arms braced on his strong shoulders as he held you tightly. 

He was laughing too, the sound bright in your ear as he held you for a second longer, like he didn’t want to let go. The warmth of him, the strength of his arms around you, made your heart thud loud in your chest.

When he set you back down, you were both breathless, your hands resting on his chest like they hadn’t gotten the message. His eyes glittered with excitement, and the way he looked at you made your stomach dip.

For a second, you wanted to kiss him then and there. It wasn’t a new thought for you, but this time, you wanted to act on it more than ever. How close he was, how warm his hands still felt on your waist, how good he looked in red, still glowing from his win. You bit the inside of your cheek, grounding yourself while your pulse fluttered.

“I don’t have long,” his voice broke you from your thoughts as he stepped back. “But I just wanted to celebrate with you for a bit.”

Lewis was so many things. Calm, yet driven and fierce, but it was the softness in him that always caught you off guard. His thoughtfulness, the way he carved out space for you, even in moments like this, when the world was moving entirely too fast. He didn’t have to, he could have just gone about his day, but he did it anyway, without hesitation. However fleeting the time was, it was his instinct to share this win with you.

That was just who he was, the kindest and sweetest soul, in ways he probably didn’t even realise. Somehow, that made it all the more impossible not to fall utterly in love with him.

Lewis turned to grab a towel and his change of clothes folded neatly on the shelf, so you instinctively stepped back, edging toward the door. “I’ll give you a minute.”

“No, stay,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was calm and gentle, yet commanding at the same time.

You paused, before turning slightly, suddenly aware of the narrow space and the soft sound of his clothes shifting. You returned to the seat you had taken earlier that morning, and faced away from his moving figure. You tried and failed to keep your gaze away from him, catching in your peripheral vision.

Lewis stood with his back to you as he peeled off his race suit with a smooth motion. His Nomex shirt followed, leaving nothing but the curve of his bare shoulders down to the taper of his waist. His skin was still flushed with heat, still glistening faintly from the race, and his muscles flexed effortlessly with every small movement. He was toned, lean, and powerful, with the kind of strength that was built from years of control and discipline.

Your eyes caught on the broad expanse of his back, and suddenly, you forgot how to breathe again.

The tattoo on his back stretched between his shoulder blades, a cross, edged with wings. The gleam wiped away as he rubbed himself clean hurriedly. You didn’t want to stare, but you couldn’t seem to look away.

A flush trickled up your neck before you even realised what you were doing. Your heart raced as though it had joined the sprint he just won, your stomach stirring with butterflies.

You moved your gaze back to the wall quickly, your eyes wide, and your pulse thudding in your ears. It was just a glimpse, barely a few seconds, but it was enough. More than enough.

You swallowed hard, drawing a shaky breath and chewing your lower lip, trying to quell the storm inside you. Trying not to imagine what it would feel like to softly trace the ink with your fingertips. To press your palms against the warm skin of his back and feel the muscles flex beneath your hand.

Nope. Absolutely not.

“Okay, I’ve gotta run,” Lewis’ voice came from behind you as he wiped his neck down once more with the towel.

He was dressed in a Ferrari polo with wide blue and white pinstripe pants, spritzing himself hurriedly to freshen up before the press conference. You rose to your feet and followed him out the door, his luxurious fragrance trailing behind.

“I’ll find you after?” His eyebrows raised in question as the two of you reached the bottom of the staircase, placing a hand on your upper arm.

“I’ll be around.” You offered a smile and nodded, before you both split off in separate directions.

You made your way back to the Ferrari suite, where the buzz of voices greeted you as you stepped inside. Guests were chatting over champagne and canapés, with the post-race broadcast filtering through the space, showcasing replays and interviews.

You picked up a fresh drink and found a seat at a small table by the window, eyes fixed on the screen as Lewis appeared on the curved sofa. He remained calm and collected, even with the edge of joy still in his voice. He grabbed his microphone and responded to questions from the press, alongside Oscar and Max.

You were still smiling faintly to yourself when someone stepped into your line of vision. He was very tall, probably in his late twenties or thirties, with tailored clothes and a charm about him, as though he was used to walking into rooms and finding attention waiting for him. He held a glass of champagne, with a self-assured smirk.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, motioning to the empty seat across from you.

You blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “Uh, sure.”

He eased into the chair without hesitation. “Appreciate it. The place is packed today, you’d think they were giving away passes with every drink this weekend,” he joked, offering his hand across the table. “I’m Nathan, by the way, with HP.”

You shook his hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”

Nathan sipped on his drink as he continued. “It’s not a bad gig. The perks alone make it worth it.”

You raised an eyebrow, remaining cordial. “Yeah? What kind of perks?”

He leaned back, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Let’s just say the view’s pretty good, and the champagne doesn’t hurt either.”

You gave a light laugh, nodding as you turned your attention briefly to the screen where the press conference was quickly coming to an end, but not before you caught the way Nathan’s gaze lingered on you.

“That sprint was something else, huh? Hamilton held onto that lead from the first turn,” Nathan remarked at the replay of the first turn on the monitor.

“Yeah, that tire management got him right through to the end without losing pace,” you agreed.

Nathan raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You sound like someone who knows their way around a track.”

“Something like that,” you replied, keeping your voice light, not wanting to give away too much.

He studied you for a few seconds longer, not unpleasantly, but with an interest that always came with a follow-up question. “So what brings you here? Hospitality invite, or are you more of a…paddock regular?”

“I’m just here supporting a friend.” You traced your thumb along the rim of your glass, keeping your voice neutral.

He tilted his head, unconvinced but entertained by your response, before pressing further. “A friend in the paddock?”

You didn’t answer, bringing your drink to your lips for a taste.

He chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying the mystery. “Alright, I’ll bite. Supporting a driver then?”

You glanced at him with a careful curl of your lips . “Does it matter?”

Nathan grinned, tapping a finger against the base of his glass. “Only if I’ve got competition.”

You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself and shook your head slightly, lips twitching upwards reluctantly. He was good, too practiced and polished, but charming in a way that made it hard to fully dismiss him.

Nathan leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just a touch. “Tell you what. If your friend forgets to come find you, you let me buy you a drink after quali.”

He reached into the pocket of his blazer, then slid a sleek, embossed card across the table to you. White with blue lettering, his name next to the big round logo, and a phone number beneath.

“You’re welcome to use it for business.” He winked. “Or pleasure. No pressure though.”

 “Subtle.” Amusement was laced in your voice as you picked up the card, your fingers brushing his as you did.

Your heart skipped with a faint pang of guilt at the interaction. Before you knew it, some time had passed and a familiar voice cut cleanly through the noise of the suite.

“There you are.” 

Lewis was a few steps away, his expression calm as it always was, but this time he seemed more alert. His posture was casual, but the quick glance he cast toward the business card in your hand didn’t go unnoticed. He masked, loosening his tight jaw, but there was a subtle flash of annoyance beneath the surface.

He gave Nathan a quick nod, “Hey man,” casual but measured.

Nathan stood smoothly, holding out his hand with a half-smile. “Lewis, nice to meet you. I’m Nathan,” he greeted, and Lewis returned the handshake politely, recognising the importance of keeping things professional.

“Nice to meet you too,” Lewis’ eyes were tight in a way you’d only notice if you were really looking at him.

“So this is the friend you mentioned, huh?” Nathan’s gaze shifted between the two of you curiously as if sensing the tension. He raised his glass with a small chuckle. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to get in the way of…friend business.”

As Nathan slowly drifted away, you noticed him look back once or twice, loitering just a moment longer than necessary. 

You turned your attention back to Lewis, who gestured towards the exit, his hand grazing your back gently as you stood. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You walked out side by side, your eyes watching for the guests that might see you leaving together, but Lewis continued leading you out to the corridor.

“Didn’t know you were making new friends,” he remarked lightly, eyebrows raised just enough to make you wonder what he was really thinking. 

“He just sat down,” you explained quickly, almost feeling guilty that Lewis had seen you having that interaction. “I didn’t even know his name until a few minutes ago.”

Lewis waved a finger for you to hand him the business card still between your fingers, humming before he read it. “Nathan.”

You chewed your lower lip, watching a small smirk play across his mouth as you passed by the bins near the team lounge, where he smoothly tossed the card into the waste.

“Lewis!” Your jaw dropped, whacking the back of your hand to his muscled upper arm softly in amusement.

He snapped his head towards you with a frown that didn’t mask that smirk on his face. “Were you planning on calling him?”

“Hell no!” You snorted incredulously, a little too delighted at his reaction.

“Good.” Was all Lewis said as you entered the lounge.

The tension that was coiled in your chest loosened. You couldn’t put a finger on whether he was jealous, or just disapproving of the man, but his reaction lit a small fire in the pit of your stomach. He was somehow more attractive at that moment than ever.

You spent the short break tucked into a quiet corner of the team lounge, sharing a quick meal together. He talked quietly between bites, telling you how the car had felt in the sprint and his hopes for qualifying, among the hum of comms chatter in the background. You asked a few questions, just to keep him talking. He always looked more relaxed when he could talk with you candidly, like it made the rest of the noise fall away and only the two of you existed, no matter how busy the lounge was. 

His deep eye contact and the way your knees brushed under the table was more calming than you had expected, the nerves that usually came with this type of subtle contact with him dissipating. 

The bubble you were in was soon broken by Angela calling for preparation before qualifying begins. 

As he stood to leave, brushing his hands on a napkin, he glanced back at you. “You should watch quali from here,” he said, nodding toward the monitors in the lounge. “Less chance of…Nathan.”

You gave him a dry look, followed by a roll of your eyes as you watched him vanish into the sea of red again.

Qualifying was intense, but Lewis had handled it with his usual quiet focus, earning him a 5th place on the grid. You didn’t see him again until much later, after the paddock had mostly cleared and the floodlights began to cast long shadows on the ground.

Neither of you had much energy left to spare. You’d arrived that morning with minimal rest after a long-haul flight, while he’d just come off the back of a sprint race, media, and qualifying. There was talk of catching up later, but in the end, both of you were too exhausted to follow through.

Still, he had found you before the night ended. Just a few quiet minutes together before parting ways, nothing more than a shared look, a quiet word about the day, and whispered goodnights.

Race day arrived under a hazy Shanghai sky. This time, the paddock was already alive and ready to go by the time you got there. You’d only seen Lewis briefly that morning, just long enough for a quiet good luck, exchanged in passing as he headed off toward race prep. He looked composed, focused, but with a fire in his eyes that told you he was ready to fight for that podium. 

You returned to the team lounge, same as you had for qualifying, surrounded by the hum of engineers and staff, but your eyes stayed mostly on the screens, fidgeting with the bracelet you had worn and your heart in your throat with every lap.

Lewis had driven a strong race, remaining composed despite a small incident and the team order to swap with Charles. He held his own through the track and fended off pressure until the final laps, crossing the line in sixth. It wasn’t a bad result, but you knew he had been hoping for better after the success at the sprint. 

You’d just started to exhale when the tone in the lounge shifted. Whispers filled the space of an issue as the FIA examined the cars. You strained to listen, piecing together fragments through the ambient chatter, hoping you’d get a glimpse of Lewis soon so that you could understand what was happening. 

As the hours passed, murmurs of disqualification moved through the garage and into the lounge.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach before the confirmation even reached the world. Not long after, the penalty was announced, both Lewis and Charles disqualified for different technical infringements. The lounge fell into an uncomfortable silence of shock. You could only imagine what Lewis was feeling in that moment, after everything that had happened this weekend.

You lingered between the lounge and the garage, waiting quietly as it slowly emptied out, hoping you might see him and have the chance to check on him. As time passed, there was still no sign of him. You knew where he was though, behind closed doors with his team, weathering the disappointment and looking for answers to where they went wrong. It gave you comfort to know that he wasn’t alone, but surrounded by people who had been in this fight with him.

Your heart ached for Lewis, in more ways than one. You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him.

You understood, of course you did. This wasn’t about you, but as the minutes ticked on, you felt a familiar sting begin to claw at your chest.

It reminded you of Melbourne, the feeling of watching him from a distance and wondering if he’d already left you behind. You knew this time was different, the disqualification changed everything. Still, the weight of being outside that world, of being someone he sought out only when the storm calmed, pressed in just the same.

So you stayed, just in case. Hoping that maybe, when it was over, he’d come find you too.

You stayed until the light outside shifted to darkness. Until the room that had once buzzed with energy had gone quiet, emptied out like the last breath of a long day. No one came.

You tapped your nail against the back of your phone, contemplating sending Lewis a text to check on him, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Then, it buzzed in your hand. A text from Lewis, but flicker of hope was gone just as quickly.

I’m still in the garage. Gonna be a while, lots to go through with the team.

Go back to the hotel if you’re tired, okay? I’ll catch you later.

You stared at the screen, re-reading the text as your heart plummeted even further. Not because he didn’t come, but because you knew why he didn’t.

He was probably still in his team kit, his voice hoarse from the radio, the interviews, and the endless debriefs. Frustrated and disappointed, but trying not to let it show with that calm demeanour of his.

All you wanted was to see him. To hug him and tell him it wasn’t fair, that you were proud of him anyway, that he didn’t have to carry it alone. You knew this wouldn’t change the outcome though.

So instead, you typed a reply.

Okay. I’m here if you need anything.

Then, you gathered your things and began walking towards the exit. The walk back through the paddock was quiet, bright lights casting a pale glow on the path. Mechanics and engineers moved around you in slow patterns, their voices low, and their energy spent. No one looked twice. It was always strange, this part, after the roar and adrenaline had faded into the night as though the whole circuit was exhaling.

You called the car that had been organised for you and returned to the hotel. Your room felt colder than you remembered when you walked in. You didn’t bother with the lights at first, just kicking off your shoes, dropping your bag, before sitting at the edge of the bed, the weight of the day catching up to you all at once.

You pulled out your phone again, just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. You read his message once more, then finally set the phone down beside you. There was nothing else to do, no way to fix it. All you could do was wait and hope he’d come back to you when he could.

Even if he didn’t say it out loud, you wanted him to know that you were still here. Always had been and always would be, for him.

You changed into something more comfortable and tried to get some rest, scrolling through your phone and messaging Isabella. The bed was plush, the lights were dim, and the city was quiet outside the window, but your mind wouldn’t still.

You lay there for hours, placing your phone face-up on the nightstand, which glowed faintly whenever you checked the time. It was nearly midnight when your phone buzzed again. You picked it up thinking it may be Isabella again, but your breath caught when you saw Lewis’ name on the notification.

Just got back.

Just three words, but they landed heavy in your chest. You sat up slowly, your pulse picking up before your fingers moved to type. You hesitated at first, tapping your thumb along the side as you considered your words.

I know you must be exhausted, but want some company?

You stared at the message momentarily before hitting send. The air was quiet and thick as you waited, barely breathing. Then, his name popped up again.

It’s pretty late…

The lump that formed in your throat tightened at what felt like a rejection, until the three bubbles moved again as he typed.

But if you’re not busy then yeah

That was all you needed, so you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed your hoodie and slipped on before stepping out into the hallway as the silence of the late-night wrapped around you with still hotel corridors. 

When you knocked, it was soft, more of a question than a statement. The door opened just a crack at first, and then fully. Lewis stood in a grey hoodie and joggers, looking fresh out of the shower. His eyes looked tired from the day, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

“Hey.” His voice was soft as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you greeted and walked through into his large suite. 

The room was quiet, save for the low murmur of the TV left running on the welcome screen. A water bottle sat half-full on the table, his red fireproofs folded in the corner, while the city glowed faintly through the curtains, casting soft light across the room. The air smelled like soap and his signature woody fragrance.

You dropped your shoes near the door, hesitating in the middle of the room at first, until he moved to take a seat on the large sofa. Following slowly, you lowered yourself next to him, watching as he stared at the coffee table in front. 

Neither of you spoke a word, the silence stretched heavily. You didn’t try to break it though, you didn’t need words for him to know that you were there for him, and that you felt his pain.

Then, after a few minutes, the silence broke when he exhaled slowly, touching his fingers to his facial hair.

“I’m sorry I had to stay late and made you wait so long,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t be. I wanted to be here.” You turned your head, catching the guilt in his expression. “Did they figure out what went wrong?”

He nodded once, but didn’t look at you. “Yeah. They think the setup was just too low. The skid block wore down way faster than we expected, got thin enough to breach the minimum thickness rules.”

“Could they have caught it earlier?” you asked gently.

“Maybe, but wasn’t much anyone could do once the race started. It’s just racing.” He gave a small shrug, but it felt hollow. “I don’t know. I just—” His voice faltered as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and focusing on the ground. 

You stayed silent, giving him space to think for a moment.

“You know, I came to Ferrari because I thought it would be different,” he said after a long pause. “A clean slate and a chance to live my dream, surrounded by red. And it is, but after today…I don’t know. It made me think, what if it’s always going to be like this here too?”

The honesty in his voice and the weight of his words made your chest ache. You could read how difficult it was for him to open up about this.

“After 2021, things just changed, and I’ve been chasing that eighth title for four years now,” he said. “I thought I might have a better chance here, that something new might refresh me, but…sometimes I wonder if I already had my shot and I missed it.”

“Hey.” You shifted closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder with a comforting squeeze, your voice gentle but firm. “It’s only the second race. There’s a whole season ahead of you, and you’re already adapting. New team, new systems, new everything. You’re doing everything you can.”

Lewis reached for your hand on his shoulder, holding it with a light grasp. “I know. I do believe in what we’re building here, but days like this…I don’t know, they just get in your head, even if you don’t want them to.”

Then, he tugged your hand from his shoulder, moving it down to thread your fingers with his own, and you let him. You waited with your pulse racing as he ran his thumb over yours, the silence stretching just long enough for him to fill it. 

“I’ve done this long enough to know how to keep perspective,” he continued. “Sometimes I just wonder how many chances will I really get. How many more times can I come close, only for it to slip away again.”

“Lewis, you’ve broken the most world records in the history of Formula One.” You reminded him, squeezing his hand. “You’ve changed this sport in all the best ways.”

He didn’t say anything yet, keeping his eyes on your intertwined hands as he sat back up onto the sofa. 

“When days like this get in your head,” you added, “I hope you remember who you are. Sir Lewis Hamilton, eight time world champion.”

This time, his gaze found yours, his eyebrows relaxing as if hearing those words from you made them real again. Behind those same eyes that had sparkled with excitement and joy the last few days, swam a tired look. A tiredness that lived under the surface, etched into the quiet lines at the corners of his mouth, and tucked into the silence between his words.

It was more than that though. Lewis was always kind, driven, and positive in the face of adversity. He was special, and while some thought it was all a mask, you knew it was far from the truth. You knew it because it wasn’t just Lewis Hamilton the driver, or the world champion sitting next to you. It was Lewis in all that he truly was, a man, with a heart full of goodness, and the ache that came from chasing something as big and fragile as a dream.

In that stillness, you felt everything shift.

You felt it like a thrum beneath your skin, in the way your fingers were laced together and your arms brushed. The air between you seemed to thicken, wrapping the two of you in an electric bubble. The space felt suspended, as though time had paused just to see what you’d do with it.

It wasn’t just tension, it was history. Your first handshake, the hours spent in deep conversation both over the phone and in person, the bond that grew between you every single day. Every glance, every almost-touch, every word that meant more than it should have. It was all there, and you could feel it all at once, like a thread pulling tight at your heart.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” he asked warmly and continued stroking your thumb with his.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse fluttering a little faster under your ribs as you chuckled with a whisper. “Maybe I just know you better than you think.”

He breathed a silent laugh in return as his gaze flicked down to your hands, then back to your eyes. He shifted closer, his knees meeting yours, and this time you felt it like a spark, warming the narrow space that remained between you.

You didn’t move, you couldn’t have, even if you wanted to. You’d wanted this for so long, only ever imagined it in the back of your mind. Now it felt more real than ever, fragile, sacred.

Lewis brought his free hand up, almost hesitantly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek, then running the back of his fingers down to your jaw slowly like a feather tracing along your skin. His eyes searched yours as though asking for permission, the same wanting you’d been carrying quietly, now reflected right back at you.

He leaned in first, giving you the encouragement to meet him closer with a shaky breath, your noses almost brushing. You could almost taste his lips, the anticipation stirring in your stomach as your heart thudded in your ears.

And then, a loud, rhythmic buzzing began between you on the sofa.

The sound cut through the quiet like a needle, small yet sharp. You blinked, startled by how close the two of you were, by how close you’d let yourself get.

There it was again, another reminder.

You didn’t need to look at the screen to know it was likely more work. It always was. Calls, meetings, debriefs, media obligations, his world moved at a relentless pace, and it rarely slowed down for anything or anyone. Not even for moments of peace like this.

Part of you shrank back instinctively. Though it wasn't in fear, but understanding, because this was what it would be like, wouldn’t it?

He lived in a world of fast cars and cameras, of constant pressure and performance. Even in quiet hotel rooms away from the track, that world followed him. It pressed in through vibrations on his phone and fleeting moments that slipped between the gaps.

You started to shift away slightly, eyes flicking down to the screen, then off to the side, giving him space to answer it. However, the phone continued to vibrate between you, and you felt his warm fingers at your chin, slowly turning your face back to him.

“They can wait,” he whispered simply.

It shouldn’t have made your chest feel like it was about to cave in, and yet it did. He sounded so sure, like it was obvious already.

It didn’t even feel like a decision anymore, not one either of you had to think through. It just was. The pull, the inevitability, the aching closeness that had been building since the day you met him.

Now it was happening, for real.

He leaned back in carefully, as though he was giving you every chance to stop him, but you didn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed silently as he hesitated mere centimetres away, and your heart fluttered in your chest rapidly.

Then finally, finally, the distance closed.

Lewis’ lips were soft against yours, moving delicately as though you were the most precious thing he had ever touched. The kiss was slow, unhurried, an accumulation of every moment that had led to this one. He kissed you like he was certain, as though he’d thought about this too, like he knew what this meant.

He tasted sweet and minty, like he’d just brushed his teeth before you came to the room. The light, neatly trimmed scruff on his face tickled your skin as his lips molded onto yours, like they were made to kiss you. He always felt like home, but now even more so as you drank him in, pressing your lips back to his.

He found the nape of your neck, bringing you impossibly close, while your hand curled around the front of his hoodie, grounding yourself in the reality of him. This wasn’t a daydream anymore. It was Lewis, and he was kissing you like you were everything he wanted.

Your heart was tumbling in your chest, fluttering so fast it felt impossible to breathe. It wasn’t from nerves, but from the feeling behind it, the tension between you snapping, and the ache finally easing. You’d imagined what this might be like more times than you could count, but nothing had ever come close to this.

Lewis pulled back slowly, just enough to breathe, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was soft, rough at the edges.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For everything.”

Your eyes met and there was something tender in his expression, as though he was still processing that this was real too. You couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across your face, and you leaned in again, meeting his lips in another kiss that spoke for you. It wasn’t about hesitation or questions anymore, it was about presence. About being here with him in the quiet aftermath of everything.

This time, it was deeper, with no room to doubt. His hand cradled the back of your head, grounding you, while you gently tugged at the collar of his hoodie. The warmth in your stomach stirred at the soft sound of your lips smacking lightly with each kiss. Your head spun at the feeling, not wanting it to end.

But then, again, the phone buzzed between you, cutting in like it had been waiting for the moment to strike.

You both paused, lips still brushing as Lewis groaned quietly in annoyance. You giggled, a breathy, surprised sound as you separated. He chuckled too, resting his head briefly against yours before leaning away. 

With a soft sigh, he picked up the phone. You laid your head on his shoulder, watching as he set the Do Not Disturb function on, and placed the phone on the coffee table.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he breathed with a shake of his head.

You didn’t answer, just shifted closer as his arm came around you instinctively, drawing you into the warmth of his side. He kissed the top of your head, then leaned back into the cushions with you curled against him, your arm laid across his abdomen. You held each other, a warm sense of belonging and comfort engulfing you both. Home.

The silence that followed didn’t need to be filled. You felt the calm in your chest, the rhythm of his breath beneath your cheek as you both relaxed into the furniture. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, wrapped up in the comfort of him as sleep found you, when it hit you that this was real. The beginning of something you’d only ever let yourself imagine. 

Taglist: @sltwins

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Two

— Little Big Flight

Read part one here

Series Masterlist

Note: Max isn’t a major part of this chapter.

wc: 1.7k

Isabella hadn't stopped talking about Max since the day the two of you met him—in the grocery store of all places.

Her excitement was beyond imaginable, and that says a lot coming from you, a mother of a six year old that should be familiar with her big imagination.

As promised, Max had contacted you for the details later that day, surprising you with flight tickets and hotel already booked. You called him as soon as you saw the message, and gave him a little earful about doing too much for two strangers.

His response, "we don't have to be strangers anymore."

The harder part however, was explaining to Isabella's father, Tyler, that you were gifted a paddock pass for yourself and your daughter. Unfortunately, the race weekend was during your ex's days to keep Isabella, so you had to tell him about the plans.

While he might've been an okay father, he wasn't the best partner. Which is why when you told him, he laughed, not believing you for a second. That is, until you showed him the flight ticket to the Netherlands, where the next race was held.

You didn't have to tell him that you met Max, your daughter already did because she couldn't contain her excitement.

You spoke to him when you were standing by the door to his house when dropping Isabella off during your week so Tyler would still able to spend time with her before you leave. When he attempted to playfully ask why he wasn't invited to the race, Isabella shrugged but you knew he was actually asking you.

"You're flying out for work, it wouldn't have been possible." You didn't tell him that Max never offered, that secret was yours to keep.

The conversation didn't last long, since a woman you hadn't met, came and stood behind Tyler. Now you usually didn't care about who comes and goes in his house, but it mattered when your daughter was there. Fortunately, the woman was leaving so you didn't have to bring up the topic. A so-called rule he created when the two of you separated.

"Alright angel, I'll see you in a few days," you crouched down and kissed Isabella's forehead. Wrapping her arms around you, she whispered in your ear, "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, angel. Have fun here yeah?" Watching her nod, Tyler sent her inside and remained standing at the door to speak to you.

"I should get going," you told him and turned to leave, but he called your name to stop you. "Thank you for sending her over this week."

"Yeah, no worries." While you were fine with keeping things formal between you and Tyler, you didn't really want to spend any extra time with him without Isabella.

Truthfully, you were still in contact with him because of Isabella as she deserved to grow up around both parents and so far, it was going well.

As soon as you sat in your car, you received a text from a newly familiar person, Max. A small smile grew on your face at the thought of him. While he might've asked for your number to send the pass details, there were a few unrelated texts that were sent as well.

Whether it was just asking about your day, or how Isabella is doing, it made your days a little sweeter knowing that he genuinely wanted to know.

Even in his latest text, he was asking about your day. You responded, telling him about dropping off Isabella at Tyler's, mentioning how much you'll miss her over the next few days. Then, you drove off, dreading to think of ways to spend time without your little one.

—

You had a lot of free time on your hands during the week that Isabella was at Tyler's house. Even after checking off every errand you had to complete, you decided to do some research about the sport. It was a lot of information to take in and all you remember, is that you would miss the practices, but would be able to watch qualifying and the actual race.

It was now Friday, ten days later, and you were boarding a flight to the Netherlands with Isabella to watch your daughter's favourite driver race.

You were quite nervous to take Isabella on a flight, as it would be the second time. The first time was four years ago, and that too was necessary at the time or else you wouldn't have taken a two year-old Isabella on the plane.

However, Isabella wouldn’t have remembered many details from that flight, so it could also be considered her first.

Truth is, you didn't travel much after giving birth to your beautiful daughter, so you kept glancing at her to ensure she was okay during the boarding process.

While Isabella was still very excited to visit a new country, you could tell that she became slightly nervous as she sat down, all buckled in her assigned seat beside yours in anticipation for takeoff.

She was looking out the window, taking in the beauty of the early morning hours. That was, until she noticed the plane beginning to move.

"Mama," she exclaimed a little loudly, immediately finding your hand and grasping on to it tightly. "It's okay, Bella, we're flying to see Max right? Are you excited?" You asked, knowing the answer to the question very well but it was just a little way to distract her. As expected, she nodded eagerly, rambling on about everything she learned about Formula 1 with her daddy.

Clutching on to her favourite teddy bear, that she's had since birth, with one hand and the other still holding on to yours, she closed her eyes tightly once the plane picked up speed on the runway. You ran your free hand through her hair, whispering words and asking questions to distract her until the plane was stably in the air.

Fortunately, it was a seven hour flight which wasn't excessively long and wouldn't cause any additional stress on how to keep Isabella entertained.

Having downloaded the movie Cars on an iPad, you were able to keep her busy for two out of seven hours. She was happily watching, forgetting the fact that they were many miles up in air. Despite the fact that Isabella has watched this movie one too many times, it was still her favourite.

Especially after watching Formula 1, she quickly considered Charles Leclerc as Lightning McQueen when she first saw him in the red car on track. Even if Max was her favourite driver, she would speak of the Ferrari driver almost as often.

Fortunately, there was a tad bit of more privacy considering you and Isabella were seated in first class. The credit for that could be given to Max. When you asked him why first class was necessary, he responded with, "you two are my guests for the race, and my guests always need to have one of the best flight experiences."

Although, he didn't mention why it was one of the best and not the best. He held back on the fact that the best experience would be in his private plane. Perhaps one day, you and Isabella would travel with him and he would be able to share the experience. Which he believes would be a whole lot better than flying with his usual team.

The only time Isabella tightly clutched on to your hand, was during takeoff, landing, and some mild turbulence. Other than that, she had a lot of fun constantly finding a way to speak to the flight attendant.

She considered the flight attendant her friend, mainly because she kept bringing Isabella snacks to pass the time. Since Isabella stayed awake during the majority of the flight, she was close to falling asleep near the end.

After the events in the grocery store, you ensured to never leave Isabella's hand in a public place even after she assured you that she wouldn't run away. So, throughout the process of getting your small suitcase, Isabella was standing right beside you, holding your hand.

"Is Maxy gonna pick us up?" Isabella asked as you walked towards the exit. You shook your head, "no, angel, he's busy."

Dejected, Isabella pouted and you had to keep yourself from chuckling at her antics. "We'll see him tomorrow, just one more night," you reassured and the pout was replaced with a smile. If she could wait over a year for Tyler's promise that was never fulfilled, she could wait one more night until it is fulfilled by you.. and Max.

After a thirty minute drive from the airport to the hotel, you were able to get off your feet and relax. While Isabella was fascinated by the view from your hotel room, you picked up your phone and sent Max a text stating that you and Isabella safely arrived as per his request.

Usually, you'd get that request from your mother, as she always needed a text or a call to ensure your safety, especially whenever you were out with Isabella.

As expected, you had an unread message from your mother asking the same. "Bella, come here," you called out and heard patters of her small feet running towards you.

"Are we sending nanna a picture?" She asked, already knowing what was going on and you laughed, nodding.

You snapped a photo of her blowing a kiss to the camera and sent it to your mother. Two minutes passed before you got a response from her, "cutest as always but what about my little girl?"

Opening the camera again, you took a snapped a photo of yourself, holding your thumbs up playfully and sent it to her. "Your little girl is perfectly safe too"

Dropping your phone on the bed, you called Isabella’s name, “I’m gonna catch you!” You playfully chased your daughter, easily picking her up, as there wasn’t a lot of space to run, and attacking her with kisses and tickles.

Your phone buzzed with a text, “beautiful”

You had accidentally sent your photo to Max after it was sent to your mother, who was supposed to be the only recipient.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @158cmx @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly

[puppiesareperfect]

After reading some of the new episode descriptions, I’m thinking this season is going to have a big focus on characters growing up & growing as people. The most obvious example of this is “License to Bust”, but that’s not the only upcoming episode where I see this. We also know that in one episode Isabella will “struggle to lead the fireside girls on her own”. Jeremy and Vanessa also are about to start thinking seriously about colleges. Hell, there’s even Carl, who is mentioned to be taking on several jobs in one episode. Carl was around 17 last season, meaning he probably needs money to pay for college or live on his own this summer. Working can no longer be about experience or extra credit—our unpaid intern needs money.

And to me this is a really exciting direction for the show to go. The final season aired about a decade ago. The people who watched the show when it first aired are grown up now. Specifically a lot of us are in early adulthood. Having the season reflect not just getting older, but adjusting to the changes that come with it, seems like the perfect way for the show to make a comeback. I also love that it’s willing to tell these stories with characters of all different ages. It lets the show feel like it’s growing up in its own right without drastically changing anything. Plus, it doesn’t alienate any newer viewers who will inevitably find the show.

TL;DR the new season is gonna feature a bunch of coming of age stories and I’m hyped

[punksyeet]

- Feral For You ❥

Plot: A massive beatdown leads to newfound love when the WWE champ heads backstage to medical after a brutal segment.

Warnings: Mature language, mentions of blood / wounds, teasing / flirting, & smut (oral)!

A/N: after over a month of not writing, i’m back with my first ever cody fic. thank you to @isabella-2025 for requesting this. i hope you enjoy! <3

———————————————————————————————

“Just be sure to keep applying this ointment every day for about a week,” I advise, handing a white tube of Neosporin over to Jimmy Uso.

Prior to me cleaning him up just minutes ago, a whole crime scene walked through my door.

Covered damn near head to toe in blood, with lots still gushing from the fresh wound on his forehead, put there by Gunther and his championship.

He takes the medicine from my hand and checks out the fine print on the back before looking back up at me.

“You’ve got quite the cut,” I continue, moving a few strands of hair away from his forehead to make sure his wound has fully stopped bleeding. “But you should be good as new just in time for Wrestlemania.”

That last part puts a big smile on his face.

“Ain’t that some news, uce!” his twin brother, Jey, cheers excitedly, gently clapping him on the back.

I chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest. “Some great news, I’d say. You definitely got lucky. Just be extra careful until then. You still have over two weeks, so no rushing injuries, alright?”

“Gotcha Doc,” Jimmy replies, standing up from the examination bed. “Thanks a lot.”

He opens his arms for a hug and I gladly accept, patting and rubbing his back gently. “Anytime, uce. Feel better.”

He gives me one last smile and starts heading out, throwing an arm around Jey’s shoulder for stability, the same way they came in.

“See ya Monday with a dead ring general, Doc!” Jey calls over his shoulder, a goofy smile on his face, before the door closes behind them.

“Can’t wait,” I mutter to myself, playfully rolling my eyes with a smile.

After removing my gloves, I begin to go about disinfecting the examination bed and getting ready for the next unhinged WWE superstar to come my way.

Little did I know, it’d be a case worse than Jimmy’s.

About five minutes later, I hear commotion behind my door once again.

And soon enough, it opens.

“Watch your step,” a deep voice advises. “We’re in medical now.”

I look up from throwing a couple paper towels in the garbage and my heart immediately sinks.

Stood before me is the most gorgeous man in the company, Cody Rhodes, with one of the most painful looking bruised and bloody eyes I’ve ever seen.

He groans in pain as not one, not two, but three security guards release him.

“When I catch that assho-“ Cody begins muttering to himself, but is cut off.

“Alright,” Nick Aldis interrupts. “Everyone will be dealt with accordingly. For now, you need to be focused on one thing: your health. Because if not, you can kiss that main event and your championship goodbye.”

Cody cringes at that last part and lets out a frustrated sigh before carefully sitting on the examination bed.

Silent tension fills the air, and is soon interrupted by Nick’s ringtone.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, I’m in medical with him now. We’ve just arrived.”

“Well, he’s gonna have to wait. He caused this.”

He lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. Give me 10 minutes.”

As he’s sliding his phone back into his pocket, Cody speaks up.

“Go do what you need to do,” he suggests, waving him off. “I’ll be fine here.”

Nick crosses his arms across his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cody. Do you realize what just happened to you out the-“

Cody interrupts him. “I said I’ll be fine. If anyone else is stupid enough to mess with me right now…”

His voice trails off as he runs a hand down his face.

“Just go,” he reassures again, his voice now a low mutter. “I’ll be fine.”

The Smackdown manager lets out a deep sigh before nodding slightly and turning to the security guards. “I’ll be back. Stand outside and make sure no one steps foot near this room. Understood?”

They all nod in agreement and follow him outside, the last one closing the door behind them.

Silence takes over again before Cody lets out another sigh, turning to me.

“Sorry you gotta see me like this,” he begins, disappointment and defeat written all over his face. “I hope I’m not your most difficult patient yet.”

I offer him an empathetic smile. “You’d be surprised. I took care of your ‘libation or two’ buddy and his brother just before you came in.”

He gives me a light smile and looks down. “Somehow that makes me feel better.”

My smile widens and I turn back to the counter, dabbing some hydrogen peroxide on a cotton pad.

Once enough is on there, I turn back to him and take a few steps closer.

“This might sting a little,” I warn, gently pushing some short strands of platinum blonde hair out of the way, stuck to his forehead by a mixture of sweat and blood.

He hisses in pain as I ever-so-gently dab the wounded area.

“Sorry,” I say through gritted teeth, dabbing faster. “There. The cut itself is all clean.”

“Just the bruise to go,” he responds sarcastically, smirking.

I roll my eyes playfully, throwing out the numerous bloody pads. “Keep it up, champ. I won’t be nearly as gentle next time.”

Horror fills his eyes and I giggle softly, filling yet another pad with the liquid.

As I’m cleaning the blood from the area surrounding the actual wound, his dreamy eyes never leave my face - every so often swapping from my eyes to my lips, following my every move.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer champ,” I tease, discarding those pads as well.

He smirks, licking his bottom lip.

As I step closer again to apply ointment to the wound, I feel an arm slowly wrap around my waist.

My face becomes hot to the touch and I become flustered automatically, an entire butterfly garden growing in my stomach.

“Come sit on my lap pretty girl,” he coos, stroking my back, his hand dangerously close to my ass. “Don’t be shy.”

“I-in case you forgot,” I reply, trying to keep my composure. “You’re injured. And I’m not gonna be the one to hurt you even further and hear Aldis’ mouth.”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Still a brat even when I’ve got you looking like a tomato.”

“Oh my god,” I quietly mutter to myself, turning around to hide my face.

He chuckles and pulls me into his lap, resulting in a quiet “oof” from me when I land.

“There,” he says, satisfaction in his voice. “That’s more like it.”

I bite my lip gently, continuing on applying the ointment. “A-are you sure this doesn’t hurt? I don’t wan-“

“Shhh,” he cuts me off quietly, leaning in and applying wet and soft kisses to my neck.

A quiet moan leaves my lips, as I tilt my head to give him more access.

“Mmm,” he hums in satisfaction. “Your moans are almost as pretty as you, sweet girl.”

“C-Cody…” my voice trails off, as I pull away slowly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “There’s people outside, r-remember?”

“Fuck them,” he mumbles sexily, going in for my neck again.

But before his lips can make contact with me once more, I pull away again and give him a “be for real” look.

“Ugh fine,” he replies, clearly irritated at the fact that he can’t take me down right this second. “Come with me.”

He stands up and holds out his hand.

“W-where are we going?” I ask, discarding my gloves and grabbing my things.

Thankfully he was the main event, so I’m free to leave once he’s taken care of.

“To my bus,” he replies, nodding towards the door. “Nice and peaceful? No security guards outside the door? Sounds like paradise to me.”

I chuckle softly and take his hand, heading out with him.

———————————————————————————————

** smut warning! **

“Right there! Y-yes!” I practically scream, gripping the hair on the head of a man whose face is currently buried between my legs.

Deep, sexy groans and slurping sounds fill the air as his tongue laps at my clit harder and faster.

“Fuck! Oh my god!” I cry out, squeezing my thighs tighter around his head.

He reaches out to spread them once more and, all of a sudden, grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers.

One of my favorite things a guy can do during things like this.

How did he know?

All of a sudden, my vision turns white and entire body goes numb, as my second orgasm of the night practically rips me in half.

When I come back down to earth, I watch on as he heads to the bathroom and comes back with a wet rag.

He proceeds to wipe both me and his face clean and tosses it in a nearby hamper.

“F…fuck,” I whisper, laying there breathlessly.

He chuckles, rubbing my thigh. “You feel good, sweetheart?”

I nod automatically, moistening my bone dry lips with my tongue. “S-so good.”

He smiles and hovers over me, leaning in to press his lips on mine.

I kiss back immediately, deepening it by wrapping my arms around his neck.

The second his tongue glides across mine, I immediately moan, the taste of myself filling my tastebuds.

He smirks against my lips and gently holds either side of my face, pulling away slowly.

I tug on his bottom lip as we part, looking up at him through my lashes.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he coos, staring deep into my eyes.

I blush slightly, sliding my bottom lip in between my teeth. “You’re not so bad yourself, champ.”

He chuckles, gives me one last peck on my lips, and trails kisses down my neck and chest.

“Mmm,” I moan in satisfaction, as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth.

He swirls his tongue around the bud, proceeding to suck at it gently.

“I’m never gonna forget this night,” he exclaims, massaging my second breast after releasing it’s nipple with a gentle pop.

** smut over! **

I smile softly, wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing our lips together once more.

“You won’t have a choice,” I mutter teasingly against his lips.

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