#this was like the fastest decision IN MY LIFE

[diamondzart]

I just spontaneously spent 140€ on “TF2 Fight Songs” original unopened vinyl record. I regret nothing holy shit I’m gonna have an actual fucking vinyl record of this legendary soundtrack holy shit guys

There were only TWO active lots in my country, like, in general. ONLY TWO.

(+ thanks to my obsession with a vinyl record seller character from another fandom I now have my own vintage record player aheehehe)

I will pass it down to my grandchildren. I will tell them this is how 2010s sounded like.

[azaracyy]

one of my finished ych commissions. other finished artwork can be found here. the tailmon is based on the twitter meme / trend of tailmon with pikachu build

[theonottsbxtch]

MATCH MADE IN HELL PT1 | MV1

an: i am slowly finally finishing off all my requests and this was one of them, i had so much fun and my dear friend loved reading this so i hope i did justice to the request. anyway max hmu x

wc: 2.2k

part two | part three

THE CHAMPAGNE WAS STILL STICKY when she found out.

She had spent the past hour celebrating—laughing, grinning until her cheeks ached, drinking in the sight of thousands of fans chanting her name. World Champion. The first female Formula 1 World Champion. The words tasted sweeter than the bubbly that had been poured over her head on the podium.

And then it all shattered.

She hadn’t even been looking for it. Her phone had been left abandoned in the motorhome while she basked in the euphoria of her win. It was only when she returned, still buzzing from the adrenaline, that she saw the messages. A handful of texts from a friend, a link, and a simple message that made her stomach turn cold.

I’m so sorry. You deserve better.

Curious, still lightheaded with joy, she clicked the link.

And there it was. Photos. A grainy shot of Nathan at a club in Monaco three months ago, another in Dubai during the summer break, then one just last week in Austin. Always with the same woman. A brunette with legs for days and a familiar smirk. Someone from the team, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Her throat closed up, fingers trembling as she scrolled, every image a knife to the gut. It wasn’t just a drunken mistake. It was calculated. Repeated. Lied about.

Nathan fucking Donovan. Her teammate. Her fiancé. The man she had trusted with her heart, her career, her future.

The sound of the paddock outside was muffled, drowned out by the rushing in her ears as she dropped her phone. For years, she had turned down every offer from Red Bull. They had been calling since her first podium, since her first win. They had wanted her, but she had always said no. Because of Nathan. Because she had wanted to win with him. Because they were a team, a partnership, a power couple.

She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

She had been a fool.

By the time she lifted her head, the decision was made. She wiped her damp hands on her race suit and reached for her phone. The Mercedes crest on her chest suddenly felt suffocating, like a brand that no longer belonged to her.

Her fingers moved with a steadiness that surprised her as she typed out a message to her agent.

Call Red Bull. I’m ready to talk.

That was six months ago.

Now, she had her foot down on full throttle, fighting her teammate.

The roar of the Red Bull RB20’s engine vibrated through her bones as she flicked the car into the corner, tyres screaming as they clung to the edge of grip. Ahead of her, her teammate—Max Verstappen, two-time world champion and an arrogant bastard on his best days—held position, defending like his life depended on it.

It had been like this all season. A relentless, brutal fight for the title. They had the fastest car on the grid, Red Bull’s latest engineering marvel, but they weren’t teammates in any real sense of the word. No teamwork. No cooperation. Just war.

And she was winning.

Six months ago, she'd walked out of Mercedes with her head held high, ringless finger curled into a fist. The world had lost its mind. The media had spun its stories, her ex-fiancé—Nathan Donovan, lying, cheating, spineless piece of shit—had played the heartbroken victim, and the fans had taken sides. But she hadn’t cared then, and she didn’t care now.

Let them talk.

She’d spent years at Mercedes, loyal to a fault, standing by Nathan’s side because she’d thought they were a team, on and off the track. And he’d thrown it away. Lied to her face. Made a fool of her.

So, she’d made sure to humiliate him in return.

Signing with Red Bull had been the first strike. The second had been selling the place they lived in, after all it was in her name - not her problem that he had nowhere to live for two months.

Now, the third was coming—because with two races left in the season, she was leading the championship. And Nathan? A non-factor.

The thought made her press harder on the throttle. The car twitched under her, skimming the edge of disaster, but she held it steady. She was close. A tenth behind Verstappen, closing fast.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” her race engineer crackled through the radio.

She smirked.

Too late.

The gap was nothing now. Less than a tenth.

She was right on Max’s gearbox, weaving slightly in his mirrors, making sure he knew she was there. The car felt alive beneath her, the Red Bull’s aerodynamics biting into the tarmac, begging to be unleashed.

Final lap. Final sector.

Max was still defending, but she could see the cracks. He was too focused on keeping her behind, positioning his car to block, reacting rather than attacking. And that was his mistake.

She took the wider line into the penultimate corner, knowing he’d cover the inside. Then, in a move that was either genius or madness, she lifted off ever so slightly, making him think he’d done enough—before throwing everything into the exit.

Tyres screamed, her car twitched—then hooked. She got the drive she needed, rocketing past him just before the final turn.

Too late for him to do anything.

The chequered flag waved. She crossed the line first.

“YES!” Her own voice rang through the radio, pure adrenaline and triumph. “Fucking get in!”

Her engineer was shouting in her ear, the Red Bull garage was on their feet, and somewhere, she knew, Nathan was watching. Watching as she won. Watching as she proved, once again, that she was better than him.

The thought made the victory even sweeter.

She pulled up into parc fermé, hands shaking with the aftershock of adrenaline as she switched off the car. A second later, Max’s Red Bull rolled in beside her, stopping with just enough aggression to make his frustration clear.

She smirked.

Helmet still on, she climbed out, raising a fist to the cheering crowd before stepping onto the scales. Cameras flashed, capturing every second. She could already imagine the headlines.

She turned just as Max yanked off his helmet, dark blonde hair a mess, jaw clenched. He took one look at her, exhaled sharply through his nose, then muttered, “Fucking hell.”

She grinned. “That’s what you get for leaving the door open.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was not a door. That was a crack in the wall.”

She shrugged. “Still got through, didn’t I?”

Max let out a sharp breath, shaking his head, but there was something else in his expression. Not just frustration. Something almost… impressed.

He wouldn’t admit it. Wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. But she could see it, clear as day.

And the best part?

No matter how much of an arse he could be, she knew one thing for certain: he hated Nathan as much as she did.

banner-

The post-race press conference was the usual mix of adrenaline, exhaustion, and barely concealed hostility.

She sat in the middle, winner’s seat, hands wrapped around a bottle of water, pretending to listen as the moderator rattled off formalities. Max was to her left, arms crossed, jaw still set in frustration. Charles—third place finisher—was on her right, mostly just happy to be there.

The first few questions were routine. Race strategy, tyre management, overtaking opportunities. She answered smoothly, flashing the occasional smirk at Max whenever someone mentioned her overtake. Each time, his jaw tightened just a little more.

Then, inevitably, someone brought up Nathan.

A journalist from one of the more sensationalist outlets leaned forward, microphone in hand, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“Amazing drive today, congratulations. Obviously, this is a huge result in the championship fight, but I have to ask—do you think your performance this season has been motivated at all by… personal matters? Specifically, your past relationship with Nathan Carter?”

The air in the room shifted.

She had heard a lot of bullshit in these pressers, but this? This was almost impressive in how blatant it was.

She opened her mouth, already crafting the sharpest, most dismissive response possible—

But Max got there first.

He leaned forward, elbow on the table, voice dripping with casual disdain.

“Yeah, mate, I’m sure she’s leading the championship because of her ex. Not because she’s fucking fast or anything.” He raised a brow. “You want to ask me if my performance is motivated by my tragic breakup in 2022? Or is this just reserved for women?”

Silence.

The journalist blinked, momentarily stunned. Then stammered, “I—I was just—”

Max tilted his head. “Just what?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back a smirk.

The moderator swiftly cut in, moving things along, but the damage was done. The clip would be everywhere within the hour, and Max knew it. He settled back in his chair, arms crossed once again, looking completely unbothered.

She glanced at him, just briefly.

Still not friends. But maybe, just maybe, a little less like enemies.

After the press conference, she barely made it two steps out the door before Max fell into step beside her.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, casually twisting the cap off his water bottle.

She snorted. “For what?”

He gave her a pointed look. “For shutting down that absolute cunt before you could say something that’d get you fined.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Clearly.” He took a sip of water. “But I like watching them.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She wasn’t about to admit it, but watching that journalist’s face crumble had been the highlight of her day—besides the win, obviously. And Max had delivered it with all the effortless arrogance of a man who lived to piss people off.

They reached their driver rooms, the doors right next to each other. She pushed hers open, stepping into the quiet, adrenaline still thrumming in her veins. Her suit was damp with sweat, her body still buzzing from the intensity of the race, but it was a good feeling. A victorious one.

She had just pulled her race suit down to her waist, reaching for a towel, when she heard a door open behind her.

Not hers.

Max’s, probably—except the footsteps that followed weren’t his.

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room.

“Well done. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Her entire body went rigid.

She turned.

Nathan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face carefully neutral—but his eyes gave him away. Cold. Calculating.

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “What the fuck do you want?”

Nathan stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind him. “You need to cut the shit.”

She laughed, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, mate.”

His jaw tightened. “The comments. The narrative you’re letting people run with. It’s damaging my reputation.”

“Your reputation?” She arched a brow. “Pretty sure you did that yourself when you stuck your dick where it didn’t belong.”

His expression flickered, just for a second, before the mask slipped back into place.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “I have lawyers. You keep dragging my name through the mud, and I’ll make sure it costs you.”

She tilted her head. “Is that a threat?”

He shrugged. “A warning.”

She scoffed, turning away, but he kept going.

“I mean it,” Nathan said, voice dropping lower. “This little act of yours—playing the scorned woman, running off to Red Bull like a child—it's pathetic. You think people actually respect you? They’re laughing at you.”

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

“Must be humiliating,” he continued, almost conversationally. “Knowing you were just something to pass the time. A placeholder.”

Her fingers curled into fists.

Then he said it.

“Fucking whore.”

The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

Nathan barely had time to react before he was shoved backwards, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. A forearm pressed hard against his throat, holding him in place.

Max.

His entire body was tense, his usually sharp, arrogant expression now twisted into something far more dangerous.

Nathan made a strangled noise, trying to push him off. “What the—”

“Say that again,” Max said, voice low, lethal.

Nathan swallowed, his eyes flicking to her.

Max pressed harder. “Go on. I fucking dare you.”

Silence.

Nathan was many things—arrogant, selfish, manipulative—but he wasn’t stupid.

Max held him there for a moment longer, just to make a point, then finally let go, stepping back like Nathan wasn’t even worth the energy.

Nathan straightened his shirt, swallowing whatever insult he’d been about to throw. His eyes flicked between them, then he scoffed. “You two deserve each other.”

Then he turned and walked out.

The second the door shut, the room was quiet again.

Max exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the tension. “Fucking hell.”

She blinked at him, still processing what just happened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He turned to her, dark eyes unreadable. “Yeah, I did.”

And then, just like that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, pulse racing, wondering what the hell just happened.

part two...

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore

[daretoassume]

77 quotes to change your perspective

carl jung

"if the path before you is clear, you are probably on someone else's."

"until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate."

"the world will ask who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you."

"it all depends on how we look at things and not how they are in themselves."

"there is no coming to consciousness without pain."

joe dispenza

"can you accept the notion that once you change your internal state, you do not need the external world to provide you with a reason to feel joy, gratitude, appreciation, or any other elevated emotion?"

"if you want a new outcome, you will have to break the habit of being yourself and reinvent a new self."

"if you were to start investing your attention and energy into the unknown, your body would then be able to follow your mind into the unknown—a new experience in your future."

"if you cannot get beyond your stresses, your problems, and your pain, you cannot create a new future where those things do not exist."

"if you focus on the known, you get the known. if you focus on the unknown, you create a possibility."

eckhart tolle

"the primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation but your thoughts about it."

"life is not as serious as the mind makes it out to be."

"you find peace not by rearranging the circumstances of your life but by realizing who you are at the deepest level."

"pleasure is always derived from something outside you, whereas joy arises from within."

"most of the so-called bad things that happen in people's lives are due to unconsciousness. they are self-created, or rather ego-created."

wayne dyer

"when you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself."

"you are not stuck where you are unless you decide to be."

"begin to see yourself as a soul with a body rather than a body with a soul."

"be miserable. or motivate yourself. whatever has to be done, it is always your choice."

"you are what you choose to be today. not what you have chosen to be before."

louise hay

"every thought we think is creating our future."

"i do not fix problems. i fix my thinking. then problems fix themselves."

"you have been criticizing yourself for years, and it has not worked. try approving of yourself and see what happens."

"there is no written law that says that because you once believed something, you have to continue to believe it forever."

"the more we love ourselves, the less we project our pain onto the world."

jen sincero

"if you are serious about changing your life, you will find a way. if you are not, you will find an excuse."

"your life is your party. you get to choose how you invite people and experiences and things into it."

"you need to go from wanting to change your life to deciding to change your life."

"what you tell yourself on a daily basis is more powerful than you know."

"comparison is the fastest way to take all the fun out of life."

tony robbins

"it is your decisions and not your conditions that determine your destiny."

"you cannot have a plan for your day until you have a plan for your life."

"belief in limits creates limited people."

"the only thing that is keeping you from getting what you want is the story you keep telling yourself."

"if i could uncover what beliefs and values control me, i could literally redesign myself."

marcus aurelius

"the happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts."

"our life is what our thoughts make it."

"the best revenge is not to be like your enemy."

"every living organism is fulfilled when it follows the right path for its own nature."

"today i escaped anxiety. or no, i discarded it because it was within me, in my own perceptions—not outside."

jay shetty

"the more we define ourselves in relation to the people around us, the more lost we are."

"actually, the greatest detachment is being close to everything and not letting it consume and own you."

"it is impossible to build one's own happiness on the unhappiness of others."

"if you are satisfied with who you are, you do not need to prove your worth to anyone else."

"the grass is greener where you water it."

mel robbins

"if you only ever did the things you do not want to do, you would have everything you have ever wanted."

"you are one decision away from a completely different life."

"when it comes to change, goals, and dreams, you have to bet on yourself."

"change your decisions, and you will change your life. and what will change your decisions more than anything? courage."

"if you have the courage to start, you have the courage to succeed."

alan watts

"man suffers only because he takes seriously what the gods made for fun."

"never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command."

"you are under no obligation to be the same person you were 5 minutes ago."

"a person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts. so, he loses touch with reality and lives in a world of illusions."

"hurrying and delaying are alike ways of trying to resist the present."

ram dass

"the quieter you become, the more you can hear."

"your problem is you are too busy holding on to your unworthiness."

"i can do nothing for you but work on myself…you can do nothing for me but work on yourself."

"free yourself from the illusion of good and bad days. labeling time makes us nostalgic for the past and demanding the future. there is only here and now. let it be."

"no matter what someone else does to you, never put anyone out of your heart."

lao tzu

"care about what other people think, and you will always be their prisoner."

"the best fighter is never angry."

"respond intelligently even to unintelligent treatment."

"if you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading."

"nature never hurries, yet everything is accomplished."

muhammad ali

"if my mind can conceive it, and my heart can believe it—then i can achieve it."

"do not quit. suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion."

"he who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life."

"i have never let anyone talk me into not believing in myself."

"i am the greatest. i said that even before i knew i was."

steve harvey

"you cannot leave what is important to you up to someone else."

"stop wasting time looking at someone else's reality while doing nothing about yours."

"the dream is free, but the hustle is sold separately."

"your dream has to be bigger than your fear."

"you cannot tell big dreams to small-minded people."

albert einstein

"i am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. imagination is more important than knowledge. knowledge is limited. imagination encircles the world."

"anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new."

𓍯 entryfromsane004 (extracted from the old blog two years ago)

[thelovehypothesis]

Part 2.1 : Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak - 1 | 43

part 1

ex!Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader x Max Verstappen

+3k words

a/n’s: again full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazing, and this is the long awaited part 2 on my take of their fic! BUT here is and alternate ending... Part 2.2

warnings: angst-fluff (debatable happy ending)

Summary: Two three hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each or to another?

Racing Ahead (qatar grand prix 2025) 

It had been nearly a year since you walked away from Franco, since you’d chosen your career and dreams over the love you once thought would last forever. Life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The moment you accepted the position at Red Bull, everything shifted. The high-intensity world of being Max Verstappen’s race engineer consumed you, leaving little room for reflection, which was how you preferred it.

You were good at your job—great, even. From the very first race weekend with Max, you felt the rush of adrenaline, the electric tension of every decision you made behind the mic, and the weight of contributing to a world championship. It was thrilling, everything you’d ever worked for, and yet, there were quiet moments when your mind drifted back to what you had left behind.

But you didn’t have time for what-ifs. You stood in the garage, headphones around your neck, watching the pit crew scramble as they prepared the car for qualifying. Max was a machine—focused, relentless—and the two of you had developed an easy rapport. He trusted you with critical decisions, and you trusted him to deliver on the track. It was a partnership built on mutual respect and shared ambition.

As you stood there, watching the screens, you felt a familiar tug of emotion—memories of race weekends with Franco, late-night strategy talks, and the way he used to smile when he nailed a lap. But you pushed those thoughts away. That chapter of your life was over.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Max’s voice crackled through your headset, pulling you back to the present.

“Copy that,” you replied, all business again. “Let’s nail this one, Max.”

The next few minutes were a blur of data, radio calls, and fast decisions. Max was flying, setting the fastest times in each sector. By the time the session ended, he had secured pole position, and the garage erupted in cheers. You smiled, proud of the work you’d done and of what the team had achieved together. This was where you belonged now—at the heart of the action, right on the edge of greatness.

But as the celebration in the garage began to die down, you caught sight of a familiar figure across the paddock—Franco. He was there, leaning against the railing, watching you. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, everything around you seemed to blur, the noise of the team fading into the background.

He looked different—older, somehow, more serious. But that same magnetic energy was still there, the pull between you undeniable, even from a distance.

Franco was back in the paddock as a reset driver for Williams and Mercedes in the 2025 season. It was bittersweet seeing him there, a constant reminder of the past and what you had left behind. His presence felt heavy, especially to him when he noticed the subtle moments between you and Max. The way Max’s eyes would linger on you during quick debriefs or the soft smirk on his lips after a race made it clear he was interested. Franco noticed everything, and it was as if the air between you and him thickened each time you were near.

You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. It had been so long since you’d seen him. You didn’t know what to feel—anger, sadness, or relief. You had moved on—or at least, you convinced yourself you had. But seeing him here, now, was like reopening a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

Later, after the garage had emptied out and the team had retreated to prepare for the race, you found yourself wandering the paddock, lost in thought. You didn’t expect to bump into Franco, but as fate would have it, there he was, standing by the entrance to the hospitality suite, waiting for you.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice soft but urgent.

You froze, torn between walking away and confronting the emotions you had buried. Slowly, you turned to face him.

“Franco,” you said, your voice steady though your heart was racing.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. “I work here now. This is my job.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve been following you this season. You’re doing incredible things.”

There was a brief silence, filled with all the words you both wanted to say but couldn’t. Finally, Franco spoke again, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your emotions in check. “Franco, that part of my life is over. I made my choice.”

“I know you did,” he said, his voice strained. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It never has.”

You shook your head, the familiar ache returning to your chest. “Franco, you can’t just say things like that. You can’t—”

“I still love you,” he interrupted, his eyes burning with intensity. “I never stopped.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were speechless. You spent months trying to move on, trying to forget him, but hearing him say those words stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, stepping closer. “And I know it’s too late to fix things. But I had to tell you. I had to try.”

You stared at him, torn between the past and the present. Part of you wanted to run back to him, to fall into his arms and forget everything that had happened. But the stronger part of you knew that things could never go back to the way they were.

“I can’t, Franco,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve built something here.”

His face fell, and he nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “I understand. I just… I had to see you. To tell you how I feel.”

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m glad you told me. But we’re on different paths now.”

He took a step back, his hands clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might try to say more. But instead, he just nodded again, resigned. “Take care, Y/N.”

You watched as he turned and walked away, your heart heavy but resolute. You had made your choice, and there was no turning back now.

As you stood there, alone in the paddock, the sounds of the race weekend buzzing around you, you took a deep breath. The pain was still there, but so was the certainty. You had chosen yourself and your future. In this moment, that was enough.

Turning back toward the Red Bull hospitality, you squared your shoulders, ready to face whatever came next. You were here for a reason, and no matter what ghosts from the past lingered, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The next day after the race, as if pulled by some invisible force, you found yourself near the Williams hospitality and crossed paths with Franco again. His eyes held a certain determination, as if something had been left unsaid. You didn’t plan on stopping, but you did.

“I just need to tell you one last thing,” he said. His voice was soft but strained, like he’d been carrying the weight of these words for too long.

You hesitated, unsure, but standing there, looking at him, you knew you wanted to hear what he wanted to say. You exhaled, already knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

There was a pause, a moment of silence where the two of you just stood there, the air thick with everything unsaid. Finally, he broke it.

“I see the way Max looks at you,” he began, his gaze flickering to the ground for a moment before meeting yours. There was an edge to his words, the mention of Max hanging between you like a challenge. You met his gaze, unflinching.

“It's..It’s obvious. And I don’t think it’s fair. You won’t give me another chance, but… you’re giving him one?” 

The accusation hung in the air between you, but it wasn’t anger or bitterness that hit you—it was sadness, the echo of what you both once had.

You shook your head slowly, the corners of your lips lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Max trusts me, Franco. You didn’t.” There was another big pause between you two. 

His expression faltered, the words sinking into the space between you. It wasn’t just a statement—it was the truth of why things had fallen apart.

“You know…I’ve moved on,” you said, though the words felt heavy in your chest. “You should too.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—regret, jealousy, maybe both. He took a breath, stepping closer.

He looked at you as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “So it is because of Max?” he asked, his voice tight. “He’s the reason you’re saying this?”

You shook your head, exasperated. “This isn’t about Max. It’s about me. I’ve found my place here, Franco. I’ve built something on my own. I’m happy.”

Franco stepped forward, close enough that you could see the pain in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

You hesitated, and for a moment, you felt the urge to reach out to him, to pull him close and tell him that everything would be okay. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a deep breath and stood your ground.

“Yes, I do.”

He stared at you for a long time, his expression shifting from hurt to acceptance. Finally, he nodded, stepping back. “I guess I always knew I’d lost you the moment I walked away.”

There was a pause, and then, almost in a whisper, he added, “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

You felt the tightness in your chest ease, the weight of the past lifting, even if just a little. “I know,” you replied softly. “But we can’t go back.”

Franco gave you one last look, a look that said everything he couldn’t put into words. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, a gentle goodbye to the memories you shared, and turned to leave.

As you walked out of the paddock, the sense of closure settled over you. It was done. The past no longer had a hold on you. You had said your goodbyes, finally and fully.

Max was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car. When he saw you, he opened the door and gestured for you to get in without saying a word. The moment you sat down, he reached over and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice calm, yet filled with concern.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it. The weight of the past no longer held you down. You were moving forward, and whatever the future held—whether it was with Max, racing, or something else entirely—you knew you were ready for it.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, but Max never let go of your hand. He didn’t need to say anything more—his presence was enough. You leaned back in the seat, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time in what felt like forever.

You knew things were going to change. But for now, you allowed yourself to just be in this moment, feeling safe and understood beside him.

The new, the better (abu dhabi grand prix)

The Grand Prix was electric, charged with tension, adrenaline, and the weight of the championship. Max was on the verge of winning his fifth world title, and every single decision you made felt like it could either make or break his season. The entire paddock was watching. The stakes had never been higher (for you(maybe), cause well the 2021 season happened).

As the race unfolded, your nerves buzzed with anticipation. Max had been flawless, pushing the car to its limits, but on the final lap, a risky opportunity presented itself—one that could either win the championship or lose it. You had seconds to decide. Your heart pounded as you called it.

"Box Box, Max. Trust me on this."

There was a brief pause on the radio, but Max’s voice came through steady and confident. “Copy. I trust you.”

And that was it. He trusted you, completely. He always had.

As Max took the gamble and crossed the finish line first, securing his fifth world championship, the entire Red Bull team erupted into cheers. The pit wall exploded in celebration, and you stood there, momentarily frozen, barely able to believe what had just happened. Max had done it. You had done it. Together.

Before you could even process the victory, Max pulled his car into the pit lane, the roar of the crowd filling the air. As he climbed out, he ripped off his helmet and, without a second thought, sprinted toward you. Your breath caught in your throat as he reached you.

His eyes, wild with excitement and joy, locked onto yours, and before you could say anything, Max was pulling you into his arms, kissing you deeply. The world around you fell away—there was no paddock, no crowd, no cameras—just the warmth of his lips on yours, the passion in his embrace, and the weight of the moment between you.

For a split second, time froze. Everything you’d been holding back, all the tension, the unspoken feelings, rushed to the surface. Max kissed you like he’d been waiting forever for this moment, and the way he held you, like you were the only person in the world, left you breathless.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting, stunned by the intensity of it all. Max’s hand lingered on your waist, his forehead resting against yours as the crowd roared in the background. He grinned, his face flushed from the race and the kiss, and whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You could barely process it, but before you could respond, your eyes drifted to the side where Franco stood, watching the entire scene unfold. His face was a storm of emotions—jealousy, anger, heartbreak all at once. He looked away, and for a moment, the past tugged at you. But it wasn’t enough to hold you back anymore.

Later, after the race, you found yourself alone with Max in the team’s motorhome, away from the cameras, the chaos, and the noise. The atmosphere was thick with the unspoken. You sat across from him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but there was also a newfound calm between you two—a sense of inevitability.

“You really didn’t have to kiss me like that,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. But your voice trembled slightly, betraying just how much the moment had affected you.

Max leaned back, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I figured it was the right time.”

You blushed, your heart fluttering as his words sank in. You’d always known Max was bold, but this… this was different. “So… what now? Red Bull doesn’t exactly encourage relationships between team members.”

He smiled, a slow, confident grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Actually, they don’t mind, as long as we don’t let it affect our work. And we work pretty well together, don’t we?”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the victory. It was more than that. It was the trust, the bond that had been quietly building between you two for months. “You really think this can work?”

Max leaned forward, his eyes soft but sure. “I think we should give it a shot. See where it goes. No pressure, just you and me.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of the past year lifting slightly from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had control over your life, over what you wanted. And maybe, just maybe, this was something you were ready to explore.

“Okay,” you said softly, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Winter break and the next season all became a delicate dance between work and something more. Max was still the fierce, competitive driver you admired, but there was a softness to him now, especially when it came to you. At work, you were still the same duo—focused, driven, unstoppable—but away from the track, things were different. The playful banter that had once been strictly professional became more personal. You found yourself opening up to Max in ways you hadn’t with anyone else in a long time, and the connection between you two deepened with each passing day.

Franco remained a constant presence in the paddock as he got a seat for the 2026 season, a reminder of the past you’d left behind. There were moments when his gaze lingered on you and Max, moments when you could see the regret in his eyes. But that chapter of your life had closed, and it was time for something new.

Max didn’t push you for more, but he made it clear he was all in. He was patient, understanding, and above all, he trusted you. It was that trust, more than anything, that made you realise how different this was. Max believed in you, in the decisions you made, both on and off the track. He never questioned you, never made you doubt yourself. And in return, you found yourself falling for him, slowly but surely.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling race weekend, you and Max were sitting in his hotel room, the city lights of whatever country you were in glowing softly through the windows. Max had his arm wrapped around you, and you were leaning into him, both of you exhausted but content.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his voice. “Really? Even after winning five world championships?”

He smiled down at you, his eyes softening. “Yeah, even after that. This—being with you—it feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you realised in that moment that you felt the same way. It wasn’t just about the thrill of the races or the adrenaline of being part of something bigger than yourself. It was about Max, about the way he made you feel grounded and safe in a world that was constantly in motion.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. Truly, deeply happy.

And as the season went on, that happiness grew. You and Max navigated the challenges of working together in such a high-stakes environment, but you also grew closer in ways you never imagined. There were quiet moments, stolen glances, and late-night conversations that made you realise how much Max meant to you.

The rest of the paddock eventually got used to the idea of you and Max as a couple, and while there were still whispers and raised eyebrows, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you had found something real, something worth holding onto.

By the end of the season, you were no longer just Max’s race engineer—you were his partner, in every sense of the word. And as you looked toward the future, you knew that whatever came next, you and Max would face it together, stronger than ever

---The end---

I'am really happy with the outcome! hope you are too.

Once again my request are open for all your request!

-lots of love, Em.

[quinny19]

Sleeping My Way to Victory - Part 3

(Or: How to Win Without Trying)

Scenario 1: The Origin of the Rivalry (Flashback – First Year, First Sparring Match)

Bakugo had always been competitive. He was the strongest, the fastest, and the most determined in the class. No way was he gonna let some half-asleep classmate be better than him.

Except, you were.

The first time you fought him, you yawned, stretched, and somehow managed to dodge all his attacks without even looking awake.

"STAND STILL AND FIGHT ME!" Bakugo roared, sending a blast your way.

You sidestepped, rubbing your eyes. "Mmm... Too much effort."

The class watched in disbelief as you moved like you had ultra-instinct, effortlessly dodging every single attack.

"Dude," Kaminari whispered, "I think they’re on another plane of existence."

Aizawa sighed. "They're just instinctual. It’s a different kind of combat style."

"IT'S INFURIATING!" Bakugo exploded forward, trying to close the distance.

You blinked at him. "Oh, you're still here?"

He saw red.

Five seconds later, you’d knocked him flat on his back.

One move.

You yawned. "Mmm… nap time?"

The class erupted in laughter. Bakugo swore on his life that one day—one day—he’d wipe that smug, half-asleep expression off your face.

Scenario 2: Izuku Wants Answers (Or: How Does Your Quirk Even Work?)

"Hey, (Y/N), do you mind explaining your quirk to me?" Izuku asked, notebook in hand, eyes practically glowing with curiosity.

You stretched, blinking slowly. "Mmm… sure, why not?"

Bakugo, sitting nearby, scoffed. "Tch. Don’t bother. They don’t even understand their own quirk."

You raised an eyebrow. "I understand it. I just don’t like explaining things. Too much work."

Izuku, completely ignoring Bakugo’s grumbling, flipped to a new page. "So, what’s the full breakdown?"

You thought for a moment before lazily holding up a finger. "Okay, so imagine… your brain is a computer."

Izuku nodded eagerly.

"My brain is like a computer too, but it runs on low power mode all the time. Saves energy."

"...That explains so much," Jirou muttered.

Kirishima nodded. "Dude, they’re literally in sleep mode 24/7."

You continued, yawning. "My quirk is an enhanced reflex system. My body reacts to danger automatically, even when I’m not fully conscious. Like sleepwalking, but for fights."

Izuku scribbled furiously. "So your subconscious is in control most of the time, letting you move and fight instinctively without needing to actively process it?"

"Pretty much. If I think too hard, I actually get worse."

Bakugo twitched. "So you mean to tell me… you kick my ass WITHOUT EVEN THINKING?!"

You gave him a sleepy smile. "Yup."

Bakugo looked like he was about to explode. Kaminari and Kirishima immediately stepped back, bracing for impact.

Izuku beamed. "That’s amazing! No wonder your reaction time is so fast! Have you ever tested it in a controlled setting?"

You blinked. "Mmm… you wanna spar?"

Izuku nodded eagerly. "Yeah! I’d love to analyze your movements in real time!"

Bakugo immediately pointed at Izuku. "DEKU, DON’T DO IT! YOU WON’T WIN!"

You stretched. "Eh, let’s see what happens."

Scenario 3: Sparring with Izuku (Or: Why Does This Feel Unfair?)

Izuku activated Full Cowling and launched forward, aiming a well-controlled strike toward you.

You swayed slightly to the side, dodging effortlessly.

He adjusted, throwing in feints and quick kicks. You sidestepped all of them, eyes half-lidded like you were about to fall asleep.

"Man, this isn’t fair," Kaminari whispered.

"They’re dodging like they’re in a dream," Sero added.

Bakugo gritted his teeth. "Just WAIT! They’re gonna mess up!"

They didn’t.

Izuku kept attacking, increasing speed, analyzing your movements, but you kept avoiding everything like a ghost.

Then, mid-dodge, you caught his wrist.

"Huh?" Izuku blinked.

You yawned. "I win."

With a simple twist, you flipped him onto his back, gentle but decisive.

The class stared.

Kirishima whistled. "Man, that’s gotta be embarrassing."

Izuku sat up, dazed, but grinning. "That was incredible! You didn’t even tense up! It was like your body just knew where I was going to be!"

You plopped down next to him, yawning. "Mmm… good match."

Bakugo, meanwhile, was losing his mind. "HOW DOES NO ONE ELSE FIND THIS INFURIATING?!"

Scenario 4: Cats Hate You (Or: Why Won’t They Love Me?)

You loved cats.

Cats? They did not love you back.

The class found this out when you spotted a stray outside the dorms and immediately walked over, crouching down with an excited expression.

"Kitty!" You reached out.

The cat? Hissed.

You recoiled, looking betrayed. "W-what? But I love you."

The cat arched its back, clearly not a fan.

Kirishima snorted. "Aw, man. I thought everyone loved (Y/N)."

"Clearly, felines disagree," Momo observed.

Bakugo smirked. "Guess even animals can tell you’re a pain in the ass."

You pouted. "This isn’t fair. I want love."

You tried again with another stray the next day.

It ran away.

You tried with Aizawa’s cat.

It hissed and swiped at you.

You flopped onto the ground, devastated. "I have been forsaken by the feline gods."

Ochaco patted your back. "Maybe they’re just intimidated by how strong you are?"

"Or maybe they sense your chaotic energy," Jirou added.

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "Serves you right, dumbass."

You turned your sleepy gaze toward him. "At least I’m loved by someone."

Bakugo immediately turned red. "WHO THE HELL SAID I LOVED YOU?!"

You smirked. "Never said it was you."

The class erupted into laughter as Bakugo combusted in rage.

Scenario 5: One Last Match (Or: Bakugo Will Never Give Up)

"You’re fighting me. Again."

You yawned. "Didn’t you lose, like, a hundred times already?"

"SHUT UP AND FIGHT ME!"

The class gathered, watching in amusement as Bakugo once again attempted to beat you.

Explosion after explosion, you dodged effortlessly, still half-asleep.

Finally, he lunged forward—only for you to casually sidestep and trip him.

He hit the ground. Again.

You stretched, lazily leaning over him. "Mmm… guess I win."

Bakugo growled, gripping the dirt. "One day… I swear…"

You smirked, crouching next to him. "Mmm… if you wanna win, you should try relaxing. Maybe take a nap."

"YOU WANNA DIE?!"

You chuckled. "Nah. But you look cute when you’re mad."

Bakugo.exe stopped working.

The class lost it.

Denki was on the floor wheezing. "BRO—DID THEY JUST—"

Kirishima clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing too hard.

Bakugo, still red, pointed a shaking finger at you. "YOU’RE DEAD. ABSOLUTELY DEAD."

You smiled sleepily. "Mmm… wake me up when you can actually win."

He screamed into the void.

Part 4 coming soon...

Part 1

Part 2:

Part 4

[fickleminder]

with you

I wrote this based on vibes alone. Viva la OM fandom.

“Keep running!”

It felt like you were dreaming. Everything was rushing past you in a blur as Mammon pulled you along by an iron grip on your hand. He’d always been the fastest of his brothers, but you had no clue what the cause of his panic was this time.

“They’re coming for us.” Lucifer answered your unspoken question, frustration laced in his curt words. “But we’ll make sure they don’t get you too.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked dazedly, still trying to understand what was happening. One moment you were minding your own business, the next the brothers were practically corralling you out of the house and towards who-knows-where. There was no warning, no fanfare, just a lot of urgency and confusion. “Who’s coming?”

“It’s the final boss! The one who’s been pulling all the strings from the start!” Levi wasn’t making any sense either. “So many plot holes, so many loose threads, and now they’re just gonna wipe the slate clean!”

“We’re getting you back to the human world. You have friends there, you’ll be okay.” Satan explained, oddly calm given the situation.

“But what about you guys?” The sinking feeling in your chest had reached your stomach. You felt as though you could puke from sheer stress alone, the way it seemed like they were saying goodbye. “And— and Diavolo, Barbatos, the angels—”

“They’ll meet us at the portal, so don’t stop working those legs honey!” Asmo tried to encourage you, his perfect smile straining against the exhaustion from keeping up with his brothers.

(“But Mephisto, Thirteen and Raphael—”

“Hush, Beel. MC doesn’t have to know they’re not coming. Not anymore.”

“…Okay.”)

The portal was wide open when you arrived. Diavolo and Barbatos greeted you with forced smiles which only made you freak out even more.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” Diavolo said, looking at you apologetically. “I’m sorry for not consulting you about our decision first, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Whatever this is, we can face it together!” You reasoned, not above begging at this point. “I can help—”

“You can help by staying safe,” Barbatos interrupted you with a rare frown, and that was the moment you realized things were going to shit. Whatever your expression was, it made the butler’s soften gently. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take care of yourself from now on.”

Two arms wrapped around your waist like a vice, and you looked down to see Luke squeezing you like his life depended on it. “Don’t forget, you have my blessing, so everything’s gonna be okay, you’ll see!”

“No more tears, lamb.” Simeon reached out to wipe away the wet tracks on your cheeks. You didn’t realize the waterworks had started. It was the slow, quiet kind that came with deep sorrow etched into your very bones. “We’ll see each other again. Please try to stay strong until then.”

Solomon held out his hand and you took it without hesitation, your trust in your mentor unwavering. “We’ll be with you, always. Your pacts, your memories, they can’t take those away from you.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Your voice wobbled despite your best effort.

He only gripped your hand tighter, and that was answer enough.

“It is time,” Lucifer murmured. Everyone gathered behind you as you stepped towards the swirling mass of magic. No matter how hard you willed them, your legs simply refused to obey your heart, trudging robotically into the light and away from your family and home.

This was wrong, this was all wrong, how were you supposed to keep going without them—

“Our love for you is Eternal,” was the last thing you heard before Solomon let go and everything went white.

[i-chrystophylux]

GingerBrave Head-Canons (Part 2)

GingerBrave is actually very, very modest and tends to downplay his feats. This includes in the battlefield, and in every day life. If he is complimented he often says "He was just having some fun" or "I think it's just ok!" and he's satisfied with it.

GingerBrave has ADHD. He is often driven and pulled in several directions at once and it can be a bit overwhelming. However, because of his energy and freedom- it usually doesn't affect him too badly. This leads him to being a tad unpredictable- and even a tad silly. (IE not understanding things right the first time, and more relying on gut feeling to make decisions.)

He often has dark thoughts that he doesn't voice because he knows they won't help most situations they're in. This however leads to him having small anxious episodes.

Due to the conditioning of his lifestyle, GingerBrave sees himself as arguably expendable. He will throw himself in harms away to save any cookie stronger or weaker than himself with no hesitation.

GingerBrave's body is often numb from all the fire damage done to it. Even if most of it is healed he has a hard time grasping textures based on touch alone. He also has a tendency to collapse to his knees when he's overworked, over stimulated or other things overwhelming in nature.

He is definitely the kind of kid to eat everything they're given with no fits or fuss. Even if it the most disgusting thing he's ever had.

He often tries to style his hair in a way that reminds him of Dozer- however due to not completely knowing or remembering what the other looked like he fails and just left with messier hair.

He is physically not able to let himself use a night cap / sleeping cap. Otherwise he starts to just break down.

The smell of burning cookies would be nauseating to any cookie. However I think for him it would legit make him beyond sick to his stomach.

His candy cane is actually very helpful- not only as a weapon. He uses it a form of entertainment- and can't stop himself from playing with it when he has to hold still. *ie tapping it / spinning it / etc) and if He needs to pay attention he will leave it leaned up against a wall on the other side of a room.

He's actually quite smart for his age, and other than when his good nature gets exploited- he isn't as gullible as most would assume he is.

He is probably an escape artist. Seeing as he came into the world escaping he probably knows the fastest way out of any given room and several other ways to escape said room if something goes wrong.

I may continue this, I might not.

Drop some of your own head canons related to gingerbrave My next list is going to be a list of headcanons of interactions with other cookies.

[witchthewriter]

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞ⵑ𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧ⵑ𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

for anon! I hope this is enjoyable my love! ˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚⋆˚࿔

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・The relationship started out as a quest.

・One that your future boyfriend needed help with; to find his sister who had gone to land.

・You, however, really did not want to help ... anyone. Except yourself and your crew.

・But with a thirst for treasure, what choice did you have? Especially when your lil merman promised you jewels beyond your wildest dreams ... if you helped him with this one tiny thing.

・That tiny thing turned out to be a near death experience; which you were not happy about.

・His sister was goddamn happy where she was; as his merpeople were offered a life on land. However, they were never allowed back to the sea.

・But in the process...you two fell in love.

・It took a long time for either of you two to admit it. But ... when it happened, it felt like a world you had never known.

・He always has your back, no matter what. Even if he disagrees with your decision (he will tell you in private his real thoughts).

・Yes, he can transform into a 'human.' His tail seemingly melts into legs when he wills it (and is out of water; the sea holds power over all merfolk).

・Though he does still have pointed ears and an allure so charming that you've physically punched someone for getting too close.

・He's 6"6, with wide shoulders, large feet, long wavy dark hair, and the pure definition of 'eyes so blue, like the sea.'

・Your merman is quite mischievous; he loves riling you up, causing a little chaos.

・Loves being called pretty

・Walks much too fast, and is fascinated by 'hot' things e.g., hot soup, tea, baths, candles, ... oh he has set things on fire a lot. He's actually banned from fire.

・The crew love him.

・They share wild stories, but your Merman still has to learn all the different types of humour.

・No one laughed at his squid joke...

・Mates are quite serious in the Merfolk/Merpeople culture. Once they've found the one, they will not take another.

・He has decided that his Mate is you.

・And it took him a long time to tell you.

・He distanced himself, sure that you would not want him. That you could have whoever you desired.

・But the truth was, you were yearning for him. And you wanted no other.

・It took you weeks to find him. (He was leaving you clues...the angsty thing he is.)

・And he decided that if you did find him. That meant he would tell you how he truly felt:

"Why did you leave?" You asked, clinging to the rails. You hadn't wanted to be so emotional, but here you were. Captain of the fastest ship, on the verge of tears.

"I thought you did not want me," he replied. Smiling. The little shithead was smiling while you had been searching high and low for him. For weeks.

And yet, this smile made your stomach flutter. Your cheeks blush.

"Well you thought wrong fish boy!" You grumbled, tugging off your boots, and climbing onto the rail. Without a second thought, you dove right in.

The water was freezing.

"Fuck!" you said, as you surfaced, coming face to face with the merman. With your merman.

"You found me," he whispered, moving the hair from your face. His webbed fingers felt smooth against your skin. Your hands clung to his shoulders as his powerful tail swished beneath you.

"I will aways find you," you replied, one hand moving to his neck.

You looked into his eyes and saw so much. Your heart pounded as he moved. Drawing your body closer to his.

"I am eternally yours. I choose you-" and before he could finish, you kissed him.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Rivals to Lovers

"Look at that stupid dumbass man, ha! Oh shit that's my dumbass-"

Love language is physical touch x Is touch starved

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Fake Relationship

Love Conquers All

Found Family

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Song of the Sea by Lisa Hannigan

Swan Lake by Hidden Citizens

The Songchord by Zoe Saldana

[reidingandwriting]

wrecked > keigo takami/hawks (mha)

word count: ~3k

pairing: sub!hawks/keigo takami x dom!reader

warnings: SMUT, fem!reader, lots of cursing, use of a sex toy, a few uses of ‘mommy’, hawks has some birdy traits, they’re so in love ugh

keigo regretted the decision to take you partying with him. not for anything you did, of course. you were… infinitely better than anything he could ever imagine having. and god damn did you look perfect tonight.

it was a heroes exclusive night at his and rumi’s favorite club, and due to your job, you were well-known within the hero community and keigo was able to bring you with him. and keigo swore that was one of the todoroki children- fuyumi?- with rumi tonight.

keigo wasn’t big on partying anymore, you and him both now preferring nights in together more than going out. and god help him, keigo could not wait to take you home tonight. you danced with fuyumi, laughing as the more reserved woman started to warm up. you were infectious- everyone seemed to liven up around you. you brought out the best in people. also brought out the worst thoughts in him.

“down, boy. your birdy instincts are kicking in,” rumi teased and keigo shot a glare at his best friend, who merely laughed. he couldn’t help himself. you looked fantastic. rumi had taken you shopping earlier today and he owed her for the rest of his life for that outfit.

your pants looked as if they had been painted on, the leather material hugging your figure perfectly. your top was barely more than a black lacy bra, and keigo’s personal favorite was the gold chain body harness you wore on top. it outlined your torso and keigo’s gaze kept getting caught by the shimmer. you knew it too, because every time you caught him staring, you’d smirk and continue to dance, each movement of your hips more tempting than the last.

fuyumi made her way to the bar a minute later, you having walked off to the bathroom and fuyumi shyly tucked herself into rumi’s side. he didn’t know how new this… relationship? was so he didn’t tease rumi (yet) and he set the glass down that he had been nursing.

“gonna go find my songbird,” keigo said as a way of dismissing himself, and keigo walked towards the dance floor, searching for you. you spotted him and waved excitedly, quickly weaving your way through the crowds and enveloped him in a tight hug.

“birdie! i missed you,” you peppered keigo’s cheek with kisses and started to travel down towards his jaw. “did you miss me?”

keigo’s hands moved from where they rested on your back to your waist, and be squeezed gently. “always miss you. you know that.” you giggled and keigo nuzzled his nose into your hair. “you look beautiful.”

“baby bird,” you whispered and keigo could practically see the shy smile on your face as you pressed a kiss behind his ear, the smile turning into a smirk when he shivered. “you look so handsome, it’s downright sinful.” you ran one hand down keigo’s chest, hand trailing down until it rested on his stomach. keigo’s grip on you tightened, cheeks reddening from the compliment and affection. he had worn a sheer button down today and he had considered staying home with you when he saw your reaction to the shirt for the first time.

you had begun to pull keigo towards the exit and keigo laughed when he noticed your not so subtle plan. “no goodbyes to rumi or fuyumi?”

“trust me, baby boy. i’ve been talking to fuyumi about you all night. i think they’ll get the memo.” your eyes had darkened and keigo calculated the distance in his head.

“would you kill me if i flew us home?” keigo asked and you leveled him with a look.

“if you don’t get us home the fastest way possible, i’ll make you watch as i fuck myself and go straight to bed after.” with that, keigo scooped you into his arms and was up in the air in mere seconds. the minutes it took him to get home felt like ages and the second he landed on his balcony, you were on him. your lips attached to his and keigo expertly made his way inside, feathers opening and closing doors as he kissed you back. you broke the kiss long enough to start taking his shirt off and keigo whined from the loss.

“want you, need you,” keigo whined and you pressed a quick kiss to his lips to satiate him.

“i got you, baby. i’ll take care of you. that what you want?” you asked and keigo nodded. “go ahead and get comfy. tonight? it’s all up to you, kei.”

keigo laid on his back, sending most of his feathers away. “just want you.” your smile warmed his heart and you made quick work of getting on the bed, straddling keigo.

keigo leaned up and you met him halfway, kissing him happily. you let keigo lead the kiss and you parted your lips, letting out a soft sigh as you and keigo explored each other’s mouths. keigo’s hands played with the hem of your top and you parted just enough for him to pull your top off. the cool air hit your chest, your nipples hardening and keigo’s eyes dilated. he looked at you, down at your chest, then back up again and you nodded.

keigo leaned forward and kissed down your neck, revelling in each noise that fell from your lips. one of your hands made itself at home in his hair, the other tracing up and down his back as he made his way down to your chest. he pressed a kiss to each of your breasts before he took one of your nipples into his mouth, and you threw your head back with a soft moan. your grip in his hair tightened, and keigo hummed against you and you whimpered. keigo’s hand caressed your other breast as he lapped at your nipple, sucking and carefully pulling at the nub with his teeth.

“fuck!” your hips rocked down against keigo’s and keigo moaned against you. he switched breasts, now taking the other nipple in his mouth and you rolled your hips against his slowly starting to harden clothed cock. “birdie, shit,” you whined. you moved your hands, starting to fumble with the button of his jeans.

“easy, dove, let me help.” keigo said once he pulled away and you pouted at the loss of his mouth. you unbuttoned his pants and keigo lifted his hips so you could pull them down and drop them somewhere on the ground. keigo helped you pull your own pants off and you kicked them off to the ground.

“will never get over how pretty you are, keigo,” you brought one of your hands to cup keigo’s cheek, the other hand brushing his wing lightly. keigo’s cheeks burned red and you leaned down to kiss him again, keigo’s back meeting the mattress and you slowly ground down against keigo, drawing out moans from the both of you.

keigo couldn’t keep his hands still, going from your chest down to your ass, and he squeezed firmly. “can i take these off?”

“please,” you whined. moments later, you both had been fully stripped and you knelt between keigo’s legs. you ran your hands up and down keigo’s thighs and looked up at him through your lashes. “what do you want first, pretty boy?”

“mouth, please. just need to feel you,” keigo was close to begging and you nodded, kissing down his stomach. each kiss inched closer and closer to where he wanted you and while you were letting him make choices, you still had the control and keigo loved it.

you licked a stripe up the underside of keigo’s cock and he moaned, one hand gripping the sheets and the other gripping your hair. you lapped at keigo’s tip before taking his length into your mouth, and the soft moan you let out caused keigo’s cock to twitch. you looked up at keigo with half lidded eyes and keigo’s grip on your hair tightened.

“fuck, dove, feels so good. so good to me,” keigo babbled as you bobbed your head up and down, nose hitting his pelvis as you took all of him into your mouth. “shit!” keigo’s hips started to buck as your hand cupped his balls, needy whines slipping from his lips as you lightly twisted your hand. keigo’s eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched off the bed. “close, ‘m close,” keigo panted and you picked up your pace, keigo’s hips bucking and his breaths coming faster. “cumming, shit, mommy!” keigo cried out and his cock twitched once, twice more, before he came down your throat. you swallowed before you pulled back and immediately started to run your hands over keigo’s torso, grounding and checking on him.

“did so good, songbird. my good boy, love you so much,” you praised and keigo reached up to pull you closer to him. you huffed out a laugh and pressed a few chaste kisses to his lips. “you up for more?”

“need it, need more. need you,” keigo said and you nodded.

“tell me how you want me, baby bird. want toys or just me?” you repositioned yourself, moving to sit beside keigo, and you lazily started to pump his cock.

“can- can we try something new?” you nodded. keigo rolled over, reaching to the nightstand and opened the drawer. he pulled out a bottle of lube and a new toy you hadn’t seen yet, some type of plug. “i, uh, want to use this while you ride me.”

keigo looked anywhere but your face and you leaned forward, gently lifting his chin so he looked at you. “of course, kei. get comfy for me, ‘kay?” you kissed keigo, short and sweet, before you broke the kiss. you helped keigo prop up some pillows under his hips, your touches gentle and keigo preened under the attention you were giving him.

you always took such good care of him, it was disorienting. he had slowly gotten used to it, but he still couldn’t believe he was treated so gently by you. so kindly. even when he asked you to be rough with him, he could feel how deeply you cared behind your movements. it was that care that let keigo relax in this moment, legs spread and exposed as you knelt between his legs.

keigo briefly tensed as your lube covered finger prodded at his hole, which turned into a soft moan as you pushed in. keigo whined your name and you rubbed at his hip, soothing him. you worked your finger in slowly, whimpers leaving his lips as he adjusted. “another?”

“please,” keigo nodded and you pulled your finger out, shushing him when he whined, and pushed in a second. you moved a bit faster this time, pumping your fingers at a steady pace and as keigo’s moans got needier, you added a third. you stretched your fingers, pumping faster and you smirked when a high keening cry escaped keigo.

“did i hit something, baby?” you taunted, just barely brushing that bundle of nerves again. keigo’s blushed trailed down his cheeks to his neck, and you barely resisted the urge to litter his neck with more hickeys. you reached over and grabbed the plug, pulling out your fingers and quickly replaced them with the plug. you pushed the curved end of the plug in snugly before you studied the base, curiously switching it on to its lowest level.

“fuck!” keigo’s curse was cut off by a moan, cock twitching as the device buzzed inside him.

“now, we can play this one of two ways.” you grasped the handle of the plug, pushing it deeper and taking pleasure in the way keigo’s hips bucked as he gripped the sheets. “we can see how long you can hold out without cumming. or, i can see how many orgasms i can draw out from you. i think i can get at least two more from you.” you pushed and pulled at the plug’s base, and keigo let out a wanton moan as you held the plug firmly against his prostate. “which do you want, baby boy?”

“the s-second,” keigo panted. “just wanna feel you, please, being so good for you. right, mommy? your good boy?”

“the best there is,” you smiled as you crawled over to keigo, straddling him. one of your hands grasped keigo’s cock, the other splayed out across his chest. you lined up his length with your entrance, and you moaned as you sunk down, the pleasure of the stretch outweighing the sting, and you threw your head back. “fuck, baby, fit me so well. made for your cock, all mine, isn’t it?” you trailed your nails down his chest, your spare hand tweaking one of his nipples and the moan that keigo let out was downright pornographic.

“yours, all yours, only you. just for you,” keigo babbled. you rolled your hips, grinding down against keigo’s pelvis as you bottomed out.

“you’ve ruined me, birdie. no one makes me feel as good as you,” keigo’s eyes dilated from your praise, a possessive clicking noise leaving him. “oh, you liked that. liked hearing how i’m all yours, didn’t you?” you bounced on keigo’s cock, moving steadily, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. the angle caused keigo’s cock to brush against your g-spot, and you continued to fuck yourself on keigo’s cock. “fuck, keigo. absolutely wrecked me,” your movements started getting sloppier and keigo desperately bucked his hips up, trying to get more friction. wanting, needing more of you.

“close!” his movements caused the plug to shift deeper and keigo’s feet dig into the mattress, practically humping the pillows under him.

“that’s it, baby. fill me up, make me yours.” keigo lost the rest of his control and he thrusted his hips up wildly, chasing his own orgasm. his instincts were going wild, your voice echoing through his mind. you were his, his his his. keigo pulled you down by the back of your head, latching onto your neck and sharply biting, and your finishing cry filled the room. keigo barely recognized his own moans as his hips began to falter in their movements, his only thought being of marking you, making you his.

keigo came with a flurry of chirps, warbles, and cries, some of his discarded feathers flying around the room as he came down from his high. you dropped your head against keigo’s shoulder, panting as you pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck.

“can i clean you up, mommy?” keigo looked at you with a hazy gaze and you smiled as you brushed some of his hair back.

“clean me up good and i’ll get you off however you want, baby. want me to turn it off?” you rubbed keigo’s hip and he nodded, shifting so you could access it easier and sighed with relief when the buzzing stopped. “good boy,” you cooed, pressing one more kiss to his lips before you rolled over. you propped yourself up against the headboard, slowly letting your legs spread and smirked at the way keigo’s gaze narrowed in on your cunt. “well? get to it, songbird.”

keigo positioned himself between your legs, holding your hips as he leaned in. keigo looked up at you through half lidded eyes, the sight making you clench around the air, and keigo licked a fat stripe, eyes fluttering shut. you cursed as you grasped his hair, your noises only encouraging keigo and his cock started to twitch in interest again.

keigo lapped at your pussy like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, and you whimpered as he nuzzled his nose against your clit. you dug your heels into his back, urging him closer and who was keigo to deny you? keigo nudged your legs open further and you swear you saw stars when keigo plunged his tongue in. keigo moaned deeply against you, the vibrations rattling you to your core and you bucked your hips, whining soft “please, birdie” and “god, love your mouth” as you gripped his hair.

keigo was pussydrunk and he lapped at your cunt like a man starved, suckling and flicking his tongue like he was born for it. your moans and whines egged him on, and you cried out his name when his thumb started to rub your clit.

“kei, fuck! keep, keep going. ‘m close,” your words turned breathy and high pitched moans fell from your lips, and keigo picked up the pace, pushing a finger into you and beginning to pump it quickly. your thighs tightened around his face, holding him in place as your hips bucked wildly, grinding against his mouth as you came with a loud cry. keigo eased his finger out once you stilled, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as you slowly released him.

“come ‘ere, pretty bird,” you gently tugged at the golden locks and keigo happily climbed up, cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you. “love you so much.” you whispered against his lips and keigo whined as he pulled back. a fond smile graced his features, and you could practically see the hearts in his eyes. keigo rolled onto his back and pulled you on top of him, and you curled up, content.

“love you more than anything, dove.” keigo ran his hand up and down your back and you leaned into his touch, much like a cat getting petted. “shower?”

“please, you’re so sweaty.” your voice turned teasing and keigo gasped in mock offense.

“you aren’t exactly the picture of cleanliness either.” keigo kissed your temple before he sat up with a wince. “fuck, plug.” keigo shifted to pull the plug out and set it aside. “now, i believe i was promised another orgasm?” keigo stood, you in his arms and you yelped as you clung to him.

“whatever you want, pretty boy.” you laughed as you rested against his chest. “anything for you.”

[cheriladycl01]

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍🏼

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astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

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Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

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[traincat]

hello traincat!!!! just recently gone through my spideytorch rabbit hole again. only now it is worse. and i’m actually considering writing fics about those two losers…

i LOVE your villain!peter fic, and i have seen a few other premise where peter is the Spider. but now its got me thinking and now i have brainworms of villian!johnny. i think of johnny and he will always be that sincere idiot that always puts others needs before his own. maybe if i break him enough mentally….. hmm decisions decisions….

thoughts?

also ur the bestest ever and i spent valentines giggling and reading your fics… i hate those stupid losers(i am obsessed with them…)

Thank you for reading my fics! I hope you had a good Valentine's Day. 💖

So it's my opinion that you can push pretty much any character into villain territory, you just need to figure out the right buttons to push. Some are admittedly easier than others. With Peter, for The Spider and the Last Spark, I had a very definite breaking point in mind. Spoilers for my own fic but the Spider's universe is a canon divergent version of 616 where, during Civil War, the Kingpin's assassin succeeds and murders both Mary Jane and Aunt May before Peter reaches the motel room.

This wasn't a totally original idea or anything. What If? Back in Black goes in a similar direction, killing off MJ, although its Peter is ultimately less successful than mine. I decided to kill off Aunt May too to completely strip Peter of any positive influence, including his own universe's Johnny, who died as a result of the attack he suffers at the beginning of Civil War.

I also took a lot of inspiration from What If? Grim Hunt, where Peter ultimately doesn't back down and decides to kill Kraven. (Notably my inspiration for his costume -- the black suit sans the mask -- was from Grim Hunt, and also his regular collection of slutty, slutty bathrobes.) The regular Grim Hunt makes a prediction via Madame Web that if Peter did kill Kraven, it would set him on a path where he wouldn't be able to stop killing, which is something Peter himself muses on in Spider-Man: Friends and Enemies. So I had a lot of canon information to use as a foundation.

(What If? Grim Hunt) "You killed someone." "I did that for you too!" Haha. Love him. What a freak. The other big thing I was considering with Peter was his personality flaws and how I could magnify those. Peter's big thing is responsibility, which on the flipside means he often assumes responsibility for other people. The ugly flipside here is control. Peter loves to be in control of a situation, and why wouldn't he? He's the strongest, fastest, and usually the smartest person in any civilian room he walks into. That's a big power rush. So take someone who is angry and grieving, who had that control stripped away from along with any positive influence in his life all in one night -- that's a powder keg.

(ASM #542)

Regret was a big factor for my Spider, too. Regret that he couldn't protect MJ, Aunt May, Johnny. Regret over his dead child. Regret that he didn't provide a better life for MJ when she was alive. My goal was to work from a place of pain and transform it into this little kingdom of control. Peter's not powerful enough to take over, say, the world, but he could take over New York and hold it as his own sovereign territory, especially with how broken the community was during Civil War, and especially with a big show of power, which was why I had him kill the Hulk. (Whether or not Peter could kill the Hulk in canon is a debate I'm not interested in. What's important is that Peter does canonically state that he's figured out a method to kill the Hulk, and I absolutely believe that he believes he could do it.)

So how do we apply this method to Johnny? It's a little bit trickier, because I don't have a clear breaking point in canon where I'm like, okay, if we shifted X, Y, and Z, I could see this being a springboard into supervillainy. Johnny is, at heart, an extremely kind and moral character. He's also not self-motivated the way Peter is -- Johnny functions as part of a team, and when he explores things on his own they tend to be hobby related, like racing and pop stardom. He's not usually an independent actor.

On the other hand, we can use that to our advantage. "If you break him enough mentally" sure, that works, but how are we going to do that? My first thought again is to strip the support system. I think Ben in particular has to go -- we see how Johnny spirals when he and Ben aren't on good terms. (Take "has to go" however you want for your individual context. I don't think it strictly has to mean killing characters off. I had to separate Flash from Peter in The Spider and the Last Spark and I had him lead the rebel army.) Reed and Sue, I think there's wiggle room. Is either of them a villain? Johnny's easily influenced by his loved ones, especially when he's young. If you want to play into his naivete, I think there's the beginnings of a villain route there.

Alternatively, we can play into the destructive nature of Johnny's powers. I talked a little about Claremont's take on the origin story recently, where Johnny absorbs the heat from the shuttle crash and then immediately goes Nova. The only reason Sue and Reed survive is that Ben covers them. But traditionally, Ben isn't rocky until a few moments after the crash. What if his own transformation hadn't taken place yet? Ben still covers Reed and Sue, but it's not enough, and Johnny accidentally kills his family. Add in the more modern Fantastic Four origin approach where the Four are held, at least temporarily, by the military, and you've got an isolated, guilt stricken Johnny who is facing his worst fear: being alone.

(Fantastic Four #214)

(Fantastic Four: First Family)

That's easily enough to break him. I think you could write a villain!Johnny based solely on this. But again, Johnny's not a very independent actor. So some kind of outside influence is immensely helpful. Another supervillain? Someone with other motivations who sees a deeply lonely, emotionally scarred young man with enormous power, and recognizes someone easy to manipulate? Would Johnny even care if he was being manipulated at that point?

Which brings me to the big thing with Johnny for me. What does Johnny want most in the world? He wants to be loved. And while I think a solo Johnny villain story is interesting, part of me is always a little bit committed to the idea of villain couple Peter and Johnny. (Which is what the Spider was clearly trying to swing in The Spider and the Last Spark.) Johnny, lost, directionless, craving the affection that Peter has to give in spades, and Peter, with the capability to be protective and devoted, but who also becomes infatuated at the drop of a hat. Peter, obsessive. Johnny, yearning. A huge hole in both of their hearts that's never quite filled. So yeah, why not take over the criminal underground? It's not like they have anything else to do on a Saturday night.

[ckret2]

Sparkly Coin AU was undeniably a refreshing take on establishing a post-canon GF AU. After browsing some asks, as well as re-reading a master post, now I'm thinking: Have you explored what other people's reactions would be if they eventually found Mabel is a reincarnation of Bill Cipher?

(If I previously made you feel offended before, I'm really sorry about it)

Oh, absolutely—50% of the appeal of the AU is Mabel grappling with the revelation, and the other 50% of the appeal is everyone else grappling with the revelation.

I'm not gonna go in depth because if I make another big masterpost about the AU I'll probably explore it more in there: but how other people react will depend on HOW they find out. For example, whether they're told or discover it accidentally would have a big impact on how they take the news. (I know generally how characters would react, but I haven't made final decisions on how they'd find out.)

It's of course hella uncomfortable with Dipper no matter how he finds out—but he's lived with Mabel every day of his life and several months before his life, he knows she's not evil. If she used to be evil, he forgives her. That's his sister. He'd probably have the most extreme emotions over it but would also be the fastest to start treating it like it's normal. ("Hey, remember that time you ruined your own puppet show by possessing me?" "OH MY GOD SHUT UUUP.")

The most dangerous situation here is Ford. He's the last person Mabel would want to tell, but he's also the one person who knew Bill and his mannerisms best—which means he's the most likely person to figure it out by himself. And if he figures it out himself without somebody gently explaining it to him, he'll reasonably assume that Bill's possessing Mabel, not that Mabel is Bill.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 19 - This must be the place

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Some very mild references to smut, grief

Last chapter....let's goooo

(gif doesn't reflect how reader looks)

You seemed to somehow move both in slow motion and in the fastest sprint of your life as you flung yourself at Bucky. He caught you with an audible ‘oof’ as you dived between his arms.

“Thank-you,” you squeaked tearily, burying your face into his shoulder, “thank-you”.

He didn’t speak, he just moved his arms around your back and held you firmly against him. You could feel the difference between metal and flesh as both enveloped you. Being back in his embrace was like meeting an old friend after a long absence – Safe. Familiar. Home. The two of you stayed like that for a moment. You weren’t really thinking, merely reacting. Bucky was almost perfectly still, as if any movement might break the trance.

You pulled away and looked up at him. He looked right back, his blue eyes practically burning into you.

“You knew this fence was important to me…”, you began.

He nodded, his face stoic.

“You knew that Granny asked me to do this…”

He nodded again.

“And…you were right,” you hesitated, “I have been putting it off. I guess…I guess it feels very final. It was the last thing I needed to do with this place. The last thing I needed to do…for her”.

He cleared his throat as he dropped his gaze, his voice soft, “I just thought it might help…if you didn’t have to think about it, it might be easier for you. And then…easier for you to leave”.

“Thank-you…”, you sniffed, “Do…do you want me to leave?”

His face suddenly hardened, and your heart ached as you thought he might tell you that he did, but his fingers dug deeper into your waist as if he were afraid that you would let him go.

“Of course not,” he replied gruffly, as if you’d insulted him. “Losing you has already been a nightmare. I don’t even know how I’m gonna feel when you’re really gone and I won’t even be able to bump into you around town. But you need to do what’s right for you. You need to be free to make your own decisions. If this fence is holding you back, I want to help you move forward”.

He looked at you as he told you this, those blue eyes carrying a depth of intensity that overwhelmed you.

You didn’t respond, just stared back at him, your mouth slightly agape. His words had stunned you. He was putting you first – your needs, your dreams. He had done all of this – the car, the fence – not as some grand gesture to win you back and show you what a good guy he was, but because it was to help you. To make you happy.

Bucky wasn’t necessarily a man of many words, but his actions spoke louder than he ever could. You understood that now. It didn’t magically undo the hurt he’d caused back at the bar, but it showed you that he was willing to support and be there for you, for the sake of your own happiness rather than his.

“Buck…” you whispered.

You didn’t even know you’d done it until your hand found his cheek, cupping it slightly. He turned his face into your palm and closed his eyes, as if relishing the feeling of your skin on his. The two of you stayed this way for a short while. It was nice to just be with each other for a moment, not weighed down by your complex shared history.

“Can I say something?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You found yourself nodding.

He sighed as he moved from your hand and turned away, seemingly trying to gather the words.

“I don’t know why…I did that. Why I went through your purse that night. I’ve replayed it over and over in my mind and I wish I had a real answer for you, but I don’t. As I did it, I thought to myself ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ and then I found the cash…and everything just went blank. I was so hurt by the possibility that you might have done that to me…that maybe you didn’t care about me the way I cared about you…and it’s like I lost all reason. And I know I should’ve come to you privately, and apologised for doubting you, and going through your stuff. I should’ve asked to talk rather than yelling…but my temper got the best of me. It’s not excusable. And it’s not enough. But it’s the truth. And truly, I am sorry.”

You looked at your feet as your stomach felt like it was tumbling to your knees. His sincerity burned in your ears.

“I didn’t tell you this…but before that happened, I knew I was…falling in love with you,” he said quietly.

Your face flushed and everything around you went a bit blurry but you still couldn’t quite handle meeting his eye.

He cleared his throat and continued. “And maybe…I don’t know…maybe on some level I was trying to sabotage it. Because it freaked me out, how I felt…I mean, and because I knew you’d be leaving, and maybe part of me was looking for reasons to end things before I got in too deep. Before it hurt too much. And that’s cowardly…and shitty…and inexcusable, but I guess that’s me. I’m not…good at this, Sugar. I struggle with my feelings. I can’t really regulate my emotions sometimes. Which is embarrassing as a grown ass man. But I’m trying to learn and be better”.

You finally managed to look up, your heart pounding in your chest as his admission sank in.

“Thank-you Bucky…I appreciate that…” you said quietly, “I just…it broke my heart that you could think I could do something like that. To anyone…let alone you”.

He sighed heavily, his regret evident, “I know. I know that isn’t you. And I know you don’t believe me…but that wasn’t me either, or at least not who I want to be. I’m ashamed by how I acted”.

The silence hung heavily between you both until you spoke again.

“I…I was falling in love with you too,” you admitted shyly, “that night…I had planned to tell you. Before…y’know”.

“Fuck…” Bucky winced, his voice low, “…I couldn’t have fucked it up any more than I did, huh?”

He smiled crookedly at you and playfully slugged your shoulder, an attempt at levity, but you could see the tension in his face.

You smiled back. “I guess…I guess I understand why you’d be freaked out. I was freaked out too. I kept thinking about what would happen when I left and doing my best to push it to the back of my mind. Just completely avoiding it. I guess neither of us really dealt with it….”

He took your hand in his, squeezing it softly. You took a deep breath as you looked into the depths of his baby blues and everything suddenly felt a bit clearer. You decided in that moment that enough was enough. No more dancing around the hard stuff. You owed it to yourself to lead a life where you tackled the problems head on, rather than hoping they went away by themselves or that someone else found the solution for you. Because dealing with the hard stuff is living, even if you’re uncomfortable in the process. Keeping your head in the sand was merely treading water, kicking the can down the road didn’t make it go away. You owed it to you. You owed it to Granny. You wanted to make her proud. And if it didn’t work out? Hell, it didn’t work out even when you did nothing. So you should at least try to have a say in your fate, even if you’d be knocked back sometimes.

“Buck…”

“Yeah, Sug?”

“I…I don’t…” you hesitated.

“Don’t what, Sug?” he asked gently, his fingers squeezing your palm.

“I don’t…”, you exhaled, “I don’t…want to leave”.

He tilted his head as he looked back at you, a look that took you back to every morning you woke up next to him, to every kiss you’d stolen, to every moment you’d spent in your bubble – just the two of you, hidden away from the rest of the world.

He reached his hand out towards you, his finger propping up your chin.

“Are you sure?” he asked quizzically as he held your face.

“No,” you laughed nervously, “but I never am. All I truly know is…I’m not ready to go yet”.

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the world around you disappeared, “then…don’t”.

And then he kissed you.

You weren’t sure how the kiss was somehow saccharine yet sexy, desperate yet patient, all at the same time. You pushed yourself into him as his arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly close. The rough stubble of his beard pressing into your cheek, pleasantly scratching at your chin as you silently remembered how it had felt all those times before. His familiar scent made you giddy, all cologne and the faintest hint of motor oil, the subtle caress of his laundry soap from his white t-shirt.

It wasn’t a movie-perfect kiss by any means – teeth clashed; heads bumped – but it didn’t need to be. It said the unsaid. It was real. It felt like coming home.

He pulled away for a moment, looking at you with puzzlement as he seemed to fully take you in for the first time.

“What?” you uttered breathily, a pang of anxiety that he might be regretting what he’d done.

“Are those…my boxers?” he asked incredulously, the familiar shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

You looked down at yourself, the flush of embarrassment working its way to your cheeks as you remembered that you’d gone outside in your pyjamas, initially expecting a delivery driver.

“You left them…they’re comfy,” you sputtered with mortification, shifting your arms over your thighs in a weak attempt to cover up his stolen underwear.

“Have you…have you been wearing them this whole time?” he smirked, “Since we broke up?”

“They’re comfy! And you left them at my place…finders keepers!” you spat back, annoyed at his amusement.

“Sugar…you keep ‘em,” he smiled as he pulled you towards him, “they look better on you, anyhow”.

You rolled your eyes, batting him away as you poorly masked your smile.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you groaned.

“Gladly…”

And he did.

*

Six months later…

You waved animatedly at Wanda and Vis as they entered The Snake Pit, smiling as you began to prepare their usual drinks. Wanda beamed back at you and Vis pointed to a free table, giving you a thumbs up as they settled in and took their jackets off. ‘I’ll be right there!’ you mouthed exaggeratedly at them as you plucked a couple of glasses out from beneath the bar.

“Settle a bet for us, would ya?” Sam asked as he and Clint pulled out the stools in front of you and sat down.

“Nope…” you muttered sternly as you poured Wanda’s usual, “Nooot getting involved with your bets. Not anymore. I learned my lesson from the firecracker incident…”

“…we all did,” piped up Steve from a few stools along, glaring warningly at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, “ohh don’t be so dramatic…it was fine”.

“Only because we’d just upgraded our fire extinguishers,” Steve barked as he sipped from his beer glass with contempt.

You giggled with amusement as the three of them erupted into bickering, with a passing Thor and Parker also joining to pick their side of the argument.

“Business as usual, huh Sug?” came a voice from behind you, as a metal arm wrapped itself around your hips.

“You know it…” you chuckled as you turned to face Bucky, rolling your eyes good-naturedly.

He grinned and leaned over to kiss you, causing the MC members in front of you to groan.

“Shut your pieholes,” Bucky admonished with a sneer, “If I wanna give my old lady a kiss, she gets a kiss”.

“We know…” Sam sighed. “Everyone within a twenty-mile radius knows, the way you’re all over her…”

“Well, I damn well hope so,” Bucky replied as he glared over at the corner of the bar, “there’s a guy over there who was getting a bit close…”

“Oh relax…” you laughed as you finished pouring the drinks, “he just couldn’t hear me over the jukebox while he was ordering…”

Bucky scoffed, “Yeah…like I haven’t heard that one before…”

“It’s true,” Steve chimed in solemnly, “we’ve all used that one…”

The group descended into gregarious laughter and chatter, so you used the opportunity to slip away – bringing Wanda and Vis their drinks. You talked with them for a while as you transferred their glasses from the tray to their table. Their wedding planning was going well, although they still had a lot to do.

You caught Bucky’s eye from across the room and the two of you shared a smile, almost conspiratorial in its intimacy. For a minute you were transferred back to the old days, when nobody knew about your relationship, and it was just the two of you – sneaking around, the two sole holders of something clandestine, something private – just for you both.

Bucky was loud and proud about your relationship now, and sure, you were also proud to be his old lady. You weren’t a dirty secret or something to keep quiet, but that didn’t mean you didn’t sometimes long for the intimate silence of days gone by.

You’d called off the house sale as soon as you and Bucky had shared the kiss out on your lawn. Granny’s house was yours now, although you and Bucky had spent some time making it more ‘you’, helping to exorcise the ghosts and put your own little spin on it. You knew she’d approve.

You and Bucky were enjoying being together, but you still lived apart. There was no hurry to do much else, for now. You’d got your old job back, you’d spent more time with the MC, and started to build a life here in this town. It was nice to finally start to lay down roots, to finally find somewhere you felt like you belonged.

Getting to know Bucky again was part of that, you had forgiven him for what had happened – but it wasn’t a magic wand. Trust always takes time to rebuild. And what was the rush? You loved him. He loved you. Neither of you were going anywhere. Milestones would happen in time.

Although you spent most of your nights together…

And sometimes you couldn’t wait until you got home…the bar’s office had seen it’s fair share of action…

He wasn’t always great with words, but his actions said everything he needed to. He would regularly tune Sally up and fill her tank, you couldn’t remember the last time you needed to go to a gas station. He’d make you breakfast, bringing it to you in bed as you lazily rolled over and smiled at him through half open eyes. He’d take you out on his bike, encouraging you to hold him tight around his middle as he upped the speed – listening to your squeal of excitement as the wind whipped through your hair. He’d even arranged a charity donation box for the animal shelter and propped it at the end of the bar, a photograph of Granny proudly mounted behind it – every penny and dollar collected in her honour.

It felt like he was honouring you, too.

You’d often think about him sleeping out on that road for you, insisting he stay despite you pushing him to go. You thought about him fixing the fence so you could freely leave on your own terms. He was the first person (apart from Granny of course) to fight for you. Even when it got tough. You felt very lucky to be loved like that, to be seen like that.

Peter Quill had mysteriously left town a few months ago. You had interrogated Bucky, asking if it was a coincidence that he apparently got a new job out of state, but he maintained it was. You weren’t so sure, but you wouldn’t pry. You just hoped it was true. Peter had sent you one finally text apologising for his behaviour, explaining that what had happened between you had been the catalyst to get therapy. You hoped that was true, too.

Tom, the once-thief, was doing well in the rehab facility over in the city. The staff there seemed positive that he’d come a long way with his gambling and was on the right track.

As you headed back to the bar, tray tucked under your arm, you saw Amber and gave her a wave as she headed over to her new boyfriend, Eddie. He seemed nice, even if you think you caught him talking to himself over by the men’s room once. She smiled back at you as you passed.

You resumed your post, serving a round of beers to a few guys as Bucky stood behind you, his hand on your waist as he chatted with Steve. As the customer handed you a cash tip and left, Bucky leaned in and kissed your temple without even looking up. It was as if he was on auto pilot, unable to avoid it. Life was good. Maybe this ‘making decisions’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

You placed your tip into the shelter donation box and smiled wryly at Granny’s picture as you passed, then went back to serving.

“Who’s next?”

THE END

Hiiiii! Thanks again to anyone who reblogged/left a comment for this story, it’s honestly been wonderful and I hope you enjoyed how it ended. I know a few of you didn’t think Bucky had atoned enough, and I’m sorry if that’s the case. I’m pretty satisfied with the journey he took!

If you aren’t familiar with the title, it’s my favourite Talking Heads song and I think it’s really beautiful – the lyrics partly inspired this fic, you can find them here if you’re interested.

Once again, thanks for your support. My Ko-Fi link is here if you’d like to support me further (but no pressure obv!). It’s wonderful to be in such a great community!

[thelovehypothesis]

Part 2.2 : Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak - 43

part 1

Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader x friend!Max Verstappen

+2k words

a/n’s: lastly! full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazing, and this is the long awaited part 2 on my take of their fic! BUT here is and alternate ending... Part 2.1, I really enjoyed wiriting this, hope you like it!

warnings: angst-fluff

Summary: Two hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each and if they can, can they learn to forgive?

Start line, finish line, at the end it's the same 

It had been nearly four since you walked away from Franco, since you’d chosen your career and dreams over the love you once thought would last forever. Life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The moment you accepted the position at Red Bull, everything shifted. The high-intensity world of being Max Verstappen’s race engineer consumed you, leaving little room for reflection, which was how you preferred it.

You were good at your job—great, even. From the very first race weekend with Max, you felt the rush of adrenaline, the electric tension of every decision you made behind the mic, and the weight of contributing to a world championship. It was thrilling, everything you’d ever worked for, and yet, there were quiet moments when your mind drifted back to what you had left behind.

But you didn’t have time for what-ifs. You stood in the garage, headphones around your neck, watching the pit crew scramble as they prepared the car for qualifying. Max was a machine—focused, relentless—and the two of you had developed an easy rapport. He trusted you with critical decisions, and you trusted him to deliver on the track. It was a partnership built on mutual respect and shared ambition.

As you stood there, watching the screens, you felt a familiar tug of emotion—memories of race weekends with Franco, late-night strategy talks, and the way he used to smile when he nailed a lap. But you pushed those thoughts away. That chapter of your life was over.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Max’s voice crackled through your headset, pulling you back to the present.

“Copy that,” you replied, all business again. “Let’s nail this one, Max.”

The next few minutes were a blur of data, radio calls, and fast decisions. Max was flying, setting the fastest times in each sector. By the time the session ended, he had secured pole position, and the garage erupted in cheers. You smiled, proud of the work you’d done and of what the team had achieved together. This was where you belonged now—at the heart of the action, right on the edge of greatness.

But as the celebration in the garage began to die down, you caught sight of a familiar figure across the paddock—Franco. He was there, leaning against the railing, watching you. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, everything around you seemed to blur, the noise of the team fading into the background.

He looked different—older, somehow, more serious. But that same magnetic energy was still there, the pull between you undeniable, even from a distance.

Franco was back in the paddock as a reset driver for Williams and Mercedes in the 2025 season. It was bittersweet seeing him there, a constant reminder of the past and what you had left behind. His presence felt heavy, especially for him when he started to believe Max had feelings for you. Franco noticed every subtle interaction—the way Max’s eyes would linger on you during quick debriefs or the soft smirk on his lips after a race. Franco was convinced there was something more, but you didn’t see it. To you, Max was just being friendly, and you never thought to question it. Yet, Franco couldn’t shake the feeling, and each time you were near, the tension seemed to grow.

You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. It had been so long since you’d seen him. You didn’t know what to feel—anger, sadness, or relief. You had moved on—or at least, you convinced yourself you had. But seeing him here, now, was like reopening a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

Later, after the garage had emptied out and the team had retreated to prepare for the race, you found yourself wandering the paddock, lost in thought. You didn’t expect to bump into Franco, but as fate would have it, there he was, standing by the entrance to the hospitality suite, waiting for you.

Y/N," he called out, his voice soft but urgent.

You froze, torn between walking away and confronting the emotions you had buried. Slowly, you turned to face him.

"Franco," you said, your voice steady though your heart was racing.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. "I work here now. This is my job."

"I know," he said quietly. "I’ve been following you this season. You’re doing incredible things."

There was a brief silence, filled with unsaid words and memories. Finally, Franco spoke again, his tone softer, less guarded. “I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

You swallowed hard but kept your emotions in check. "Franco, that part of my life is over. I made my choice."

"I know you did," he said, his voice strained. "I’ve made mine too. But I don’t want us to keep being strangers. We shared too much to walk away from each other like this."

You hesitated, not expecting this direction. "What are you saying?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration mixed with something softer. “I don’t want us to end on bad terms. We were friends once, Y/N. I don’t want to lose that, too.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of the past heavy on your shoulders, but his words reached you. "You hurt me, Franco. We can't just pretend like none of that happened."

"I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "And I’ll carry that. But maybe we could start again. Not like before, but as friends. You’ve moved on, and I need to accept that."

You studied him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was the boy you had once cared for, now standing before you, trying to make amends.

"Friends," you repeated, testing the word.

He nodded, hopeful but cautious. "Yeah, friends."

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips. "I think I’d like that."

Franco’s shoulders relaxed as if a weight had been lifted. "I’d like that too."

For the first time in a long while, the air between you felt lighter. You knew it wouldn’t erase the past, but maybe it was a step toward healing it.

"I’ll see you around, then?" you asked, taking a step back toward the paddock.

He smiled softly, nodding. "Yeah, I’ll see you around."

As you turned and walked away, the knot in your chest loosened. Maybe this wasn’t about choosing the past or the present—it was about allowing both to coexist in their own space.

Heading back toward the Red Bull hospitality, you felt a sense of closure. You were ready to move forward, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like you were leaving something behind.

For the next few races, something began to shift between you and Franco. Slowly but surely, your interactions felt less heavy, less tied to the past. You started to talk more during race weekends, sharing little jokes or catching up between sessions. It wasn’t forced, and for the first time in a long while, it felt easy.

As the weeks went on, your friendship began to mend. The conversations that were once filled with tension now carried a lightness, and the lingering pain of what had happened between you both faded. You found yourself laughing with him again, and before long, you were falling back into the familiar rhythm of being really good friends—just friends this time you promised yourself. There was no pressure, no unspoken feelings. It was just you and Franco, rebuilding something new.

The next  race,  you once again crossed paths with Franco again. 

“Hey,” he called out, taking a step closer. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “What’s up?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “I think Max likes you,” he teased, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “I mean, have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s like you’ve got him all flustered.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Franco. Max and I? It’s nothing like that.”

Franco crossed his arms, still smirking. “Sure, sure. But I’m telling you, he’s definitely interested. You just don’t see it.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at his playful tone. “Trust me, it’s all professional. Max and I work well together, but that’s as far as it goes.”

He raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced. “Really? Because he seems to hang around a lot when you’re around.”

You nudged him lightly, amused by his teasing. “Don’t worry, Franco. I’d never see Max that way. He’s my driver. That’s it.”

Franco chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Alright, alright. Just don’t be surprised if he starts asking you out for coffee or something.”

You laughed again, feeling the tension between you both ease with each joke. “I’ll keep that in mind, but seriously, it’s nothing to worry about.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a while, it felt light between you two. “Good to know. Just looking out for you.”

You nodded, grateful for the lighter moment. “Thanks, Franco. I appreciate it.”

As you turned to leave, Franco called after you, still with that teasing tone. “But if he does ask you out, you owe me an update!”

You laughed over your shoulder. “Deal!”

After the race, as you and Max walked toward the team hospitality, he glanced at you with a grin. “Hey,at this point I just need to tell someone, when I head back to Monaco, I’ve got a date lined up,” he said, his tone casual but playful.

You blinked in surprise, then smiled. “A date, huh? Good for you,” you replied, nudging him lightly. “I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Whatever tension had been there between you two, it seemed Max was focusing elsewhere. It was a reminder that everything between you was purely professional.

Later that night, back at the hotel, you found yourself thinking about the past few weeks and Franco’s teasing remarks about Max. Pulling out your phone, you shot Franco a quick text: "You were wrong. I was right 😏 Max has a date, so nothing to worry about!"

Moments later, your phone buzzed with his reply: "Told you I wasn’t worried 😉 Wanna grab ice cream and celebrate your victory?"

You hesitated for only a moment before responding with a quick, "Sure, see you in a bit"

It didn't take long for the two of you to find a cosy, well-known ice cream shop nestled in the heart of town, far enough from the hustle of the paddock to feel peaceful. The shop had a retro charm, with colourful decor and the scent of freshly made waffle cones filling the air. You both grabbed your favourite flavours and found a quiet corner by the window, the soft hum of chatter around you.

Sitting across from each other, you fell into easy conversation—old memories, upcoming races, and life outside the paddock. The laughter came naturally, and it was as if the tension of the past had melted away. The familiarity between you felt comforting, like slipping back into something that had never really been lost.

As you looked over at Franco, you realised something you hadn’t expected. Despite everything, despite moving on, there was still a part of you that loved him. It was buried deep, hidden beneath layers of time and distance, but it was there, undeniable and real.

The finish line?

A week later, when the F1 circus rolled into the summer break, you found yourself spending a few days together with Franco. It wasn’t planned, but it felt natural, falling back into a familiar rhythm. You wandered through small towns, shared meals at local cafes, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. The past no longer felt like an anchor, pulling you back; instead, it was something you both acknowledged but didn’t dwell on.

The moment you sat down during one of those quiet afternoons, Franco reached over and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. There was no pressure, no unspoken expectations—just the comfort of being together.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice calm, yet filled with concern.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it.

The weight of the past no longer held you down. You were moving forward, and maybe, just maybe, there was still something between you and Franco worth exploring.

(abu dhabi grand prix)

The Grand Prix was electric,charged with tension, adrenaline, and the weight of the championship. Max was on the verge of winning his fifth world title, and every decision you made felt like it could either secure or break the season. The pressure was immense, and everyone in the paddock knew what was at stake. The intensity of it all was almost overwhelming, but you were laser-focused, guiding Max through the race.

On the final lap, a risky opportunity appeared—one that could win both the drivers' and constructors' championships in one brilliant stroke. You had mere seconds to make the call. Your heart raced as you pushed the radio button, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Box, box, Max. Trust me on this.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before Max’s calm voice responded, “Copy. I trust you.”

And that trust was everything. As Max executed the strategy perfectly, crossing the finish line first, the Red Bull garage erupted in celebration. The screams of the team echoed around you, but for a second, you were frozen—still processing the magnitude of what had just happened. Max had done it. You had done it. Together, you had clinched the championship, securing not just his fifth world title but the Constructors’ Championship for Red Bull as well.

The team started racing toward the barricade to greet Max as he pulled into the pit lane, his car surrounded by a sea of red and blue. As you ran alongside your teammates, you were suddenly jostled in the rush of bodies. The next thing you knew, you bumped into Franco—completely by accident—but before you could even apologise, his arms were around you.

He caught you easily, lifting you up, and in one fluid motion, he kissed you. The world seemed to stop, the noise around you fading into nothing as his lips met yours. Franco pulled back just slightly, his voice filled with emotion as he whispered, “Congratulations. That call was amazing.”

You were stunned, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but you smiled through the tears that suddenly welled up in your eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, more intentional, as if you were both grounding yourselves in the reality of the moment. The past, the pain, all of it seemed to fade away.

When you finally parted, Franco set you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist, and you gave him a soft smile. "I guess you owe me some ice cream later,” you joked, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere.

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Definitely."

With a quick glance at the roaring celebrations ahead, you squeezed his hand and ran toward the podium area, where the ceremony was about to begin. Max was already there, grinning ear to ear, waving to the ecstatic crowd. You stood beside him, watching as he was crowned world champion again, but all the while, your mind drifted to Franco.

From your place on the podium, you spotted Franco standing quietly off to the side, watching you with a look of pride and something deeper. And in that moment, as the confetti rained down and the world celebrated around you, you realised the truth that had been tugging at your heart all along—you still loved Franco.

You found yourself falling in love with him all over again.

---The end---

I'am really happy with the outcome! hope you are too.

Once again my request are open for all your request!

-lots of love, Em.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine?

Summary: Grayson's world is about to turn upside down.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehe

•○🌑○•

Grayson sighed, rubbing at his brows.

"So you're telling me we need to get Y/n's approval for this project?"

"Yes." Aaron Galathynius stared Grayson down until he looked away, frustrated.

"But she is missing. She won't answer my calls, and you refuse to give me her location. What am I supposed to do?"

Grayson was sure that even if she hadn't been ignoring him like her life depended on it, she would have rejected the idea without even considering.

Galathynius gave him an unamused glance before turning to the papers spread on the table. "You do know that's my daughter you're talking about."

Grayson refrained from letting him know exactly who he was talking to. That without Grayson's grandfather, the Galathynius family would still be some nobody business, hoping desperately to make it.

But he only stopped himself only because he was friends with Aaron's daughter and would do anything to talk to her again, and fighting with her father was probably the fastest way to make sure she never talked to him again.

Grayson sighed again, picking up his coat and shoving his arms through. "Call me when you are ready to answer my questions, and maybe we can proceed."

Turning, Grayson stalked over to the glass doors and stormed out, letting them swing shut behind him.

Once in his car, Grayson pulled out his phone, staring at her contact name. She would not pick up, Grayson knew. She would leave it ringing just like she had been doing over the past year.

But still, trying to contact her was better than wondering about what he had done wrong for his best friend to ignore him so.

So he tapped his screen, and stared until the call cut off by itself after ringing for a good few minutes.

Grayson sighed, turning to stare out the window at the scenery that passed by.

Gray knew sleeping with her was a bad idea, but he hadn't been thinking. He hadn't thought that it would get this serious when he refused to apologise.

But he'd just found out about Eve's betrayal a few hours before Y/n had visited him in his bedroom and he wasn't really thinking, and that led to things escalating faster than Grayson could understand. And the next thing he knew, he stared down at her limp and spent form in horror, sated with the pleasure he had delivered.

She had smiled at him softly before she realised he did not look happy. Then she had shot up, reaching out for him. He leaned back, staring at her before stumbling out of bed. He could see her heart breaking, but he could not let himself think too much about the fact that he was the reason she got hurt.

"This was a mistake."

He'd mumbled out the three words that had broken the friendship that the two of them shared, and as he walked away towards his wardrobe to clean up, he could have sworn he had heard her curse him.

Heard her heart shattering.

But he could not bring himself to care as he hurriedly put on clothes. When he'd stepped out, she was nowhere to be seen, the clothes he had ripped off her body and discarded haphazardly on the ground gone, the only thing left behind her lingering scent.

He had seen her once after that, coming out of his mother's house when he went to visit her regarding something about the foundation. She'd had tears in her eyes and her arms wrapped around her body, as if to protect herself. He had tried to talk, but of course, he had been ignored.

Now, as the Hawthorne house rolled into view, Grayson told himself what he was about to do was not wrong. That this decision was for the best.

"Zabrowski? I need you to find someone for me."

•○🌑○•

The apartment complex looked posh, but it was nothing compared to what Grayson was used to. Still, he had to give it to Y/n. She had always been good at picking out the perfect things.

Grayson stared at the elevator door, making sure he did not let his anticipation and nervousness show as he neared the fifteenth floor, where Y/n had taken residence in according to Zabrowski.

Zabrowski had also mumbled something about a child in passing, but Grayson had forgotten all about it until a few hours ago.

As the elevator doors dinged open and Grayson stepped out, he wondered if Y/n had finally found someone. Wondered if she had stopped just having hopeless crushes and actually acted on her feelings for whoever, that maybe she was now pregnant as he rang the bell of apartment 1502.

He got his answers the moment the door in front of him opened, and out peeked the head of his best friend.

"Y/n."

Her name escaped him on a thin exhale, a weird feeling spreading through Grayson's chest. He watched as her lips parted in shock, her eyes only widening a fraction.

"Grayson?"

He dared to smile at her. "It's me-"

A loud cry broke the moment between the two, and Grayson's interest piqued when Y/n whipped around, letting go of the door as she ran towards where the sound was coming from.

Grayson knew it was wrong of him to push the door open and look for himself. but he could not help the curiosity.

He watched as the simple white button up shirt she was wearing puffed a little with air, her leg muscles flexing and contracting as she moved, stared as her shirt rode up a little to show the denim shorts she was wearing.

He watched as she ran towards the couch set in front of a wall of glass, looking out over the forest of buildings, and bent to...

Pick up a baby.

Looking at her cooing softly at the child was a shock to Grayson's system as she had always said that she did not want kids, or at least not until she had seen the whole world and was far older.

Grayson was damn sure she could not have seen the world in just one year, so either she had changed plans, or the baby was unexpected.

Grayson also knew he had been her first time.

Horror spread through his chest when Y/n turned around a little, smiling down at the... blonde baby with grey eyes wearing a cute litte pink onesie, who giggled back at Y/n. Her mother.

Grayson could not take his eyes off of the child, and it was a long moment before Y/n turned to him fully, her eyes widening.

Grayson finally glanced up, meeting his best friend's eyes. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, his eye stinging.

"Mine?"

Y/n did not reply, stalking over to the door and slamming it shut in his face. The loud crash echoed in the empty hallway, the sound deafening, heartbreaking.

But Grayson did not pay it much attention, the only thing ringing in his ears his own voice asking the question and the unsaid answer.

Mine?

Mine.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist (only tagging people who i either know read these books or people who sked to be tagged in everything 😉) : @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @berryzxx