#this year i had my first churro

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Hiiiiiii! Today is my birthday!! 💖

I would like to ask for something this year, something silly goofy if you would like to participate, which is that I would love to see some drawings of cowtrick or cows in general UwU 🐮🐄💖

They do not need to be skilled, they can be cute or messy or anything you want! But I would love to see some art from y'all 💕

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

my current grand theory of everything as squeezed through the phantom of the opera filter is that the evo psych / neuro bio doctor guy who says that the most attractive thing to women is "autonomic nervous system regulation" is right, and most women, most of the time, want to feel safe. but also if you're the kind of woman who is very aware that the world is a fucked up place, if you've experienced any real actual physical violence in your life, and you're also kind of fucked up about surviving it because hey buddy, that's rough, then--

then of course some rich pretty boy doesn't make you feel safe, even in theory, in fiction, in fantasy. do you know what happens to rich pretty boys in failed state situations? unless their family uses that cash to immigrate out or hire a shit ton of private security, they die like everybody else.

so maybe yeah, maybe it is that the world is kind of fucked up place, and there is a little bit of fight fire with fire burning in not just the id, but everywhere in the psyche. maybe if you're very aware of how people might--no, not just might, maybe if you know people have wanted to actually for real kill you before, maybe the fantasy is man who is good at murder (but won't murder you, who is still emotionally vulnerable to you). maybe all this discourse on healthy relationship blah blah misses the point that sometimes danger is the point, sometimes danger IS the fantasy, sometimes danger is the allure because there is nothing safe about a person who's harmless. maybe the fantasy isn't civilizing the monster or taming the wilderness. maybe the fantasy is feeling safe because of the monster.

maybe the fantasy is knowing it's not just your teeth and claws against the uncertain world.

so maybe all The Discourse misses the fucking point, you know?

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Star Beast - Part Eight

Excerpts from Benjamin Cook's Star Beast Set Visit - discussing the Camden night shoots:

Is nobody here having a bad time?? WHAT'S WRONG WITH THEM? "I had a little lull earlier," admits David, "at 2AM when we were waiting to turn over- I definitely yawned, maybe twice - but then the blood starts pumping again." Wrap isn't till 3AM. David lives across town. Isn't he worried he'll wake up his family when he gets in? "Listen, the kids are at Davison's," he says (this is Fifth Doctor actor Peter Davison, who happens to be David's father-in-law), "so I'm full of beans. Oh, and sugar. Do you want some?" He's bought a churro from a market stall that's stayed open because it's very much in shot. "You can have more than that." He breaks me off a bigger piece. "The sugar rush will do you good." He offers the director [ Rachel Talalay ] some too: "Go on, Rachel, you deserve it." "Are you doing OK?" she asks him. "Yeah! Sugar! I'll move on to the Yorkie bars next. I give not a fudge at this time in the morning." He claps his hands, dusting off the sugar from his churro. "But are you OK?" "I am at this moment," she says, waving to some fans. "Tomorrow at 4:30AM I might not be. Ask me again then." "You do get a lot of love from the fans, don't you?" says David. "In a tiny way, which is just lovely. I mean, I'm not you," she says, with a laugh. "I love hearing them scream for you. But I'm not used to any of this. And… I think it's stopped raining." "OK, here we go," says Scott. "Let's go for one. Stand by then, folks…" They go for another take. And another. When I catch up with Rachel later – much later, it’s October 2023, and she’s chatting over Zoom from her home in Vancouver – we’re five weeks away from The Star Beast airing on TV. “I didn’t know quite how well the episode was working,” she says, “till my family watched an almost-finished cut. I came downstairs, and my two girls were crying. It was like, oh, OK, this does work! And on a much, much deeper level too. To have them go, ‘We knew it would be full of joy’ – which I think it is – ‘but we didn’t expect it to be so emotional,’ that was very satisfying. It was an emotional time all round.” It was. In more ways than one. Which is something that Rachel wants to talk about – here in DWM – for the first time publicly. “I think I can now,” she says, “because I’m close to two years in remission. I will be this month. Two years in remission. And Doctor Who really helped heal me. Directing Doctor Who while I was only a couple of months post-chemo.” A deep breath. “I had lymphoma,” she explains. “I’d been in chemo for seven or eight months. I wasn’t sure if I was going to survive. Then I was offered The Star Beast. I thought, I’ve got to do this. I didn’t tell anybody I was sick. I hadn’t told anybody except very close family. And I didn’t tell anyone on Doctor Who till I was there long enough to say, ‘Look, I’m well enough, so I don’t want you worried about me.’ Because, frankly, I don’t know that they’d have wanted to hire someone who might not have made it through the shoot. I totally get that. That’s fair enough. [...] “I could not have been surrounded by a more supportive crew,” says Rachel. “The best crew in the world. When I realised, it’s all night shoots, I thought, oh god, and I’m two months post-chemo. But that crew – David especially – made those night shoots so fun. It’s weird now, because I look back at the pictures – like that lovely one of me and David you published last issue – and that was my chemo hair. I was just getting my hair back. But I got healthier and healthier, stronger and stronger, as the shoot went on. When I got back to Canada, the doctor said, ‘You’re a poster child for how well someone can do after chemo. This is what people are capable of.’ “But it’s just what you do,” she reflects, “isn’t it? – when you love Doctor Who in your heart so much. There was no better place for me than Doctor Who.”

Additional parts of this set are in the #whoBtsBeast tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Past the Finish Line: The Final Lap [CL16]

After heartbreak leaves her lost once again, (Y/N) finds unexpected solace in Charles Leclerc’s friendship. Through adventures and quiet moments, he helps her rediscover herself and the beauty of life. As their bond deepens, she learns that love can be gentle, joyful, and transformative.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Sainz! Female Reader, Ex! Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader, Sainz! Female Reader x Brother! Carlos Sainz, Sainz! Female Reader x Sainz! Family.

Warnings: Existential Crisis, Alcohol consumption, Talks of sex but nothing explicit, Pregnancy (not reader), Smut. This is LONG.

A/N: Hi, Xim here. Here is one of the alternative endings of "Past the Finish Line" short series. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. I should've probably divided this in 2 parts. There won't be more parts.

Part. 1 | Part. 2 | Part. 3 | Lando’s Ending

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some hearts didn't break all at once; they lingered, unraveling thread by thread until you stood bare, wondering how you'd lost everything without even noticing. (Y/N) had always imagined that moving on would feel decisive, like flipping a page or slamming a door. But it wasn’t. It was waking up back in her home town with no echoes of the past, only to realize that silence could be louder than chaos. It was standing in the middle of your own life and feeling like a stranger, as though someone else had written your story, and now you'd been handed the pen without instructions.

Madrid was beautiful—warm stone streets that basked under golden light, the scent of churros lingering near small cafés, and a city that pulsed with a rhythm unapologetically its own. People moved through its streets with purpose, laughing, living, thriving. She had hoped that immersing herself in this symphony would drown out the stillness of what she’d left behind. But it hadn’t. And that realization gnawed at her.

Madrid was supposed to represent freedom, yet here she was, caged by her doubts.

She was seated on the couch opposite by the window, arms crossed, watching the city unfold beneath her. The life she had with Max had once seemed infinite, like a story that would never find its final chapter. And when it did, it ended not with a dramatic conclusion but with a quiet disintegration. Eight years woven so tightly together had left their marks — not just on her heart but on her very sense of self.

The late afternoon sun filters through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long golden streaks across the polished wooden floors of her new apartment that bore the marks of a fresh start, yet it still clung to echoes of an old life. The golden hues of the Spanish sunset cast long shadows over her sparsely decorated living room. The furniture was minimalist and modern, but devoid of the personal touch that made a place feel like home. Long gone were the days of lavish Monaco views and Max’s meticulously curated spaces. Now, it was just her, a city bustling with life beyond the walls and an uneasy silence that seemed louder with each passing day.

Manuscripts, marked by hasty edits and half-formed ideas, lied scattered across the large oak desk by the window. A mug with remnants of cold tea sat forgotten beside them, its faint bitter aroma mingling with the crisp scent of the busy city air entering through the partially opened window.

Pushing herself off the couch she starts pacing in the middle of the room, barefoot and restless, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring at the blank page on her laptop screen, its emptiness mocking her. A dull ache gnaws at the pit of her stomach—a feeling she can’t quite name but knows all too well.

Despite the quiet, her name was far from forgotten. The books she had written during her time with Max — stories drafted in the rare quiet moments between chaotic schedules — had finally seen the light of day. At first, releasing them felt like closure, a testament to creativity surviving under pressure. The drafts she'd tucked away while navigating his demanding world had been polished and sent into the world, gaining modest acclaim. But now, with nothing left in the drawer, she was left staring at blank pages, wondering if the well had run dry.

Her eyes flicker to the shelves lined with her books, tangible reminders of the words that once flowed effortlessly from her mind to the page. Words born from passion, heartbreak, and love. But now nothing comes.

She rubbed her temple, frustration prickling beneath her skin. Was her creativity dependent on being in love, even if that love had been turbulent? Max had always been a storm—thrilling, consuming, and impossible to ignore. The drafts she completed had blossomed in the eye of that storm, but now there was only calm, and her imagination wilted in the stillness.

(Y/N) sighed, eyes flickering to a framed photograph of her family on the bookshelf. Carlos' arm was slung over her shoulders, their smiles wide and carefree. Moving back home was supposed to be a new chapter.

Madrid hummed outside — the distant chatter of evening commuters, the rustling of leaves in Retiro Park not far from her building. Yet even this vibrant city seemed unable to spark something within her, she felt untethered, as though the story had ended, and no one had told her how to begin the next one.

Maybe she’d fooled herself into thinking love had nothing to do with her creativity. The thought gnaws at her pride, but deep down, she wonders if there’s truth to it. Eight years of love and shared dreams had fueled her stories. Now, without that intensity, without him, she feels hollow. It had been flawed, chaotic, and ultimately unsustainable, but it had shaped her in ways she couldn’t ignore.

Now, even after months, she wasn’t sure who she was without the scaffolding of that relationship holding her up. The books she'd published were proof of that. Stories born between Max’s races and media obligations had been completed only because she'd clung to something familiar when everything else spun wildly out of control after their breakup. Those books had been a testament to survival, but now she feared they were the only testament she'd ever have.

Her fingers traced the cool glass of the window as she closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. Love wasn't supposed to consume creativity, was it? But maybe it had. Maybe being in love—even a flawed love—had been a constant spark, lighting her imagination. And without it? She was adrift.

She shook her head, frustration bubbling to the surface. No, that couldn't be true, she couldn’t let those years define her. There had to be more within her, waiting to be untapped. She just didn’t know how to find it.

Her gaze drops to her phone on the coffee table, the screen dark. No messages. Not that she’s expecting any. The social invitations have long dwindled since she distanced herself from the F1 paddock and its orbiting social circles.

The thought of Max flickers uninvited into her mind. Not the heartbreak or the messy end but something simpler—a mundane morning memory and flashes of her life with him came unbidden — the way he knew her order without asking, the absentminded kisses when he passed by, the shared glances that spoke volumes.

“Two sugars, no milk,” Max had said with a smirk, handing her a perfectly prepared cup of tea. He had known every detail about her preferences without needing to ask. How she didn't like eggs (or breakfast in general), the way she hated loud chewing, her favorite obscure indie novels—he knew it all.

And now? She was sitting across from strangers on awkward dates who didn’t even knew her favorite color.

Her recent foray into dating had been nothing short of disastrous. One man had talked about cryptocurrency the entire evening; another had wrongly corrected her grammar during casual conversation, not knowing she was a published author. Each date left her more exasperated than the last. How could she possibly start from scratch when she’d been with someone who knew her so completely?

Then her thoughts shift briefly to Lando. Sweet, charming Lando, who had always been there as a friend. After Abu Dhabi, he had wanted more, offering solace and companionship. But it had been too soon—her heart too raw and fractured to entertain the idea of love again. She’d turned him down gently, grateful for his understanding. Now, seeing him happily moved on with someone else brought a bittersweet ache to her chest. She was genuinely happy for him, but it only highlighted her own stagnant state.

The sharp trill of her phone breaks her reverie. Y/N hesitates before picking it up. A text from her editor appears on the screen.

Any updates on the manuscript?

Her stomach tightens. She types out a vague response before tossing the phone back onto the couch. Pressure mounts like a weight on her chest, but no amount of staring at the blank page will summon the words.

The apartment feels suffocating. The neatly arranged furniture, the spotless countertops—it all mocks her. She needs air, movement, something to shake her out of this creative and emotional paralysis. Taking her jacket, she grabs her keys and steps out of her flat, the cold breeze brushing against her skin.

Her hometown thrived around her, beckoning her to move forward. (Y/N) wanted to answer that call, to find inspiration in the world again. But as much as she hated to admit it, part of her wondered if she was still waiting for something—or someone—to show her how.

There’s also a part of her that wants to escape, to run until she finds something—anything—that makes her feel alive again. She just doesn’t know where to start.

φ

The kitchen at the Sainz family house was alive with the comforting hum of quiet conversations, the soft clink of silverware against porcelain, and the low, rhythmic shuffle of feet against the terracotta tiles. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat wafted through the home, mingling with the faint citrusy scent of polished wood that always lingered in the air.

The house itself was warm, familiar, and steeped in history—a tapestry woven with laughter, loud debates over races, and countless family gatherings. Yet today, (Y/N) felt oddly out of place within it, like a guest in her own life.

She stood near the window of the living room, watching the late afternoon sun stretch shadows across the manicured lawn. Her mother, Mercedes, was bustling in the kitchen with the same fervor she reserved for holidays, even though this was just a casual gathering. Or so (Y/N) had thought. Carlos Sr. had his arms crossed, already assembling the dinner furniture outside, a portrait of patriarchal pride.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching them, as if caught between two worlds. She was in her childhood house, surrounded by the people she loved the most, but part of her still felt distant, untouchable. They had noticed it too, of course. Her parents always had a way of seeing through the cracks, even when she didn’t speak of them.

Her sister Anna flitted through the space like a hummingbird, effortlessly balancing conversations and helping with the setup. And then there was Carlos, her older brother, who had insisted on this gathering like it was some divine intervention meant to jolt her back to life.

"You can’t just keep hiding, hermanita," he had said over the phone, his voice tinged with concern. "It’s time to come back. The paddock misses you. I miss you."

She knew he meant well, but the idea of returning to the Spanish Grand Prix—facing the paddock, the whispers, the memories—felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, uncertain if the fall would break her or set her free.

Still, she had agreed to this family gathering as a compromise. Baby steps, she told herself. One evening surrounded by the people who loved her, even if their well-meaning concern sometimes felt suffocating. Eventually she decided on moving deeper into the living room, unable to avoid her parents’ gentle but insistent attention.

Her Father raised his eyes as she passed by, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but she could see the tenderness beneath. He’d always been perceptive, sometimes too much for her liking, but today it felt... different. There was a weight in his gaze that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t been in months.

Mercedes wiped her hands on a dish towel, her movements fluid and sure, before looking up at her. “Sweetheart,” her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts, soft and careful as always. “How have you been feeling? Really?” Her tone laced with the same concern that had been in her eyes ever since (Y/N) had arrived at the family home, looking... hollow.

It was the way her mother asked—the concern in her eyes, the almost imperceptible line between her brows—that made (Y/N) shift uncomfortably on her feet. She knew what her mother was asking. She didn’t have to speak it aloud. The same question that had echoed in the silence of Mallorca, after the breakup with Max, had come back again, lurking like an unspoken shadow.

“I’m fine, Mum,” (Y/N) replied, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the same smile she’d been wearing for weeks now. A protective barrier, a shield to keep them from seeing the truth. She didn’t want to admit it, not here, not now. “Just working on some new ideas. You know how it is.”

Carlos Sr. looked at her over the rim of his glass, his expression both knowing and gentle. “You’ve always been a creative soul, cariño. We know. We’ve all been wondering how the new book is coming along.”

(Y/N) froze, the warmth in her chest suddenly turning cold. Her father’s words were simple and innocent, yet they cut through her carefully constructed defenses. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking toward the window. The question about her writing felt like a gentle prod, a reminder of the woman she used to be—a woman who poured herself into her work. But these days, her words felt trapped somewhere between her heart and her mind. How could she explain that to her parents? That the words wouldn’t come, that the inspiration she had once relied on now felt... foreign.

"It’s... it’s coming slowly," she said after a beat, her voice not quite convincing even to herself. "I’ve been... taking a break."

Mercedes moved towards her, a subtle concern creeping into her expression. She touched (Y/N)’s arm gently, her grip warm and steady. "A break is fine, but we’ve all seen how much writing means to you," her mother said, her tone soft but purposeful. "What’s really going on, hija?"

(Y/N)’s chest tightened at the underlying question. It wasn’t just about the book anymore; it was about everything that she’d been avoiding—her own brokenness. The world she had once found solace in, whether it was through the pages of her books or the comforting embrace of Max’s presence, had all crumbled, leaving her questioning if she could ever find that peace again.

She glanced at the gentle understanding in her mother’s face. It was almost too much to bear, how easily her parents could read her, how much they cared. She turned her gaze down to the floor, as if trying to avoid their eyes.

“I’ve… been trying to figure things out,” (Y/N) murmured, her hands wringing in the soft fabric of her blouse. “But I don’t have the same… inspiration. Not like I used to.”

Carlos Sr. nodded slowly, then took a quiet sip of his wine. “Maybe it’s time to step out of that shadow, hija. We’ve been through this before. After everything with Max…” he trailed off, and she could feel the air in the room shift.

Her stomach twisted, and her throat tightened as her father spoke the name she hadn’t let escape from her lips in months. Max. So effortlessly woven into the fabric of her past, felt like a raw wound when it was spoken. It wasn’t that she hated him—she didn’t. But the memories of their time together, once so sweet, now felt tainted, stained by the ache of loss and betrayal.

“Dad…” (Y/N)’s voice was low, but the tension in it was palpable. She forced a smile again, as if to reassure them, but it faltered almost immediately. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

Mercedes reached out, placing her hand gently over (Y/N)’s. The touch was gentle, steadying. “Cariño, you can’t keep carrying this alone. We’re your family. We’re here for you, always.”

She blinked, her throat constricting as the weight of her mother’s words settled on her chest. She wanted to tell them everything, to confess how lost she had felt, how lonely she had become, but the words stuck in her throat. What good would it do them, to see their daughter broken once again? They had already seen the aftermath of her heartache. She couldn’t bring them back to that place.

“I’m not…” She shook her head, trying to form the words but failing. “I’m just… I’m fine.”

Mercedes squeezed her hand, her voice soft but insistent. “You don’t have to carry the world on your own. But it’s okay to lean on us when you need it.”

Her father’s gaze was gentle now, understanding. “You’ve been cooped up in this house for too long. It’s time to get out there again, to find your spark. You don’t have to have it all figured out right away. But don’t let yourself hide away.”

The conversation lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. (Y/N) didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes, briefly allowing herself to sink into the warmth of her parents’ concern. But just as quickly, she drew back, pulling away from it. The last thing she wanted was to load them more than she already had.

(Y/N) felt the heat of tears burning at the back of her throat, but she blinked them back. "I’m fine, really. I don’t want to worry you.”

The truth was, she didn’t want to burden them with her creative drought or the gnawing fear that maybe her inspiration had dried up along with her love life. They deserved to see her thriving, not grappling with existential questions about her identity and purpose.

Suddenly her siblings appeared, entering the intervention. Carlos walked over to her, his large hands settling on her shoulders with the kind of care only an older brother could provide. "We can see it," he said gently, his deep voice carrying the weight of years spent growing up together, understanding her. "We saw you when you came back from Hungary, and we’re seeing it again now. You’re not fooling anyone with that smile of yours."

There was a long silence, one where (Y/N) could only hear the steady rhythm of her own breathing, trying to collect herself. The weight of Carlos’ words hung in the air between all of them, both soothing and heavy. He wasn’t pushing her. He wasn’t trying to fix anything. He just wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.

"Maybe... maybe you should go to the Spanish GP, you’ve never missed that race" Anna said softly, as though sensing the moment had come for something more direct, but still with an encouraging tone. "It’s been a while, (Y/N). And you’ve been away from the paddock for so long. Carlos needs you there. We all miss seeing you there."

(Y/N) bit her lip. It wasn’t the suggestion she’d been expecting. She’d been trying to avoid the very thing they were suggesting—returning to the world she had once inhabited with Max, with all the expectations and emotions that came with it. But as she glanced at her mother’s face, her warm, understanding eyes, she knew this wasn’t about the race. It wasn’t about Carlos either. This was about helping her reconnect to something real, something she’d always loved.

Her father nodded, as if confirming Anna’s words. "You’ve always had a way of making the world feel... lighter," he said with a small, knowing smile. "Maybe it’s time to find that spark again."

The words stung, more than she anticipated, and yet they held a certain kind of truth. She’d been hiding, cocooning herself in the aftermath of everything—Max, the breakup, the uncertainty. Perhaps it was time to stop running from it, to stop shutting out the world around her.

(Y/N) drew in a shaky breath, then nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. "I’ll think about it."

Her parents exchanged a look, one of silent understanding. Mercedes placed her hand over (Y/N)’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We’ll be here no matter what, cariño. Just... don’t stay hidden forever."

Desperate for an escape, (Y/N)'s eyes darted to the front door as the bell rang. "I'll get it," she said quickly, seizing the opportunity to flee the conversation.

She padded through the hallway, her sandals tapping softly against the tiled floor. The house hummed with the distant sounds of conversation. As she walked toward the door, she didn’t know that the moment she opened it would bring everything she had been trying to bury crashing back into her life. She was expecting a neighbor or maybe a delivery.

Instead, standing on the threshold was Charles Leclerc.

He looked different somehow—more rugged, perhaps, or maybe it was just the way time had softened her perception of him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he’d driven with the windows down, and he held a bottle of wine in one hand, his stance awkward but charmingly so. His fitted button down linen shirt was paired with tailored beige trousers that hugged his lean frame.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world seemed to narrow, blurring everything but the man in front of her. Her heart stuttered in her chest, caught off guard by his appearance.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Charles shifted his weight, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Surprise?" he offered weakly.

(Y/N) blinked, trying to shake herself free from the spell. "I... I didn’t know we were expecting guests."

"Apparently, neither did I," he admitted, lifting the bottle slightly. "Carlos invited me. Said something about finally making good on his promise of cooking for me before his home race."

Of course, she thought wryly. Her brother had a knack for orchestrating situations without informing anyone of his grand plans.

Before she could respond, Carlos’s voice boomed from behind her. "Leclerc! You made it, amigo!"

Charles’s face lit up with genuine warmth as Carlos strode toward them, clapping him on the back with the familiarity of old teammates.

"You’ve kept me waiting for those burgers long enough," Charles joked, his Monegasque accent adding a melodic lilt to his words.

"Come on in, man. Don’t just stand there."

Carlos's presence broke the spell, and she finally stepped aside, allowing Charles to enter. As he brushed past her, she caught the faint scent of his cologne—clean and crisp, tinged with something subtly masculine.

Her fingers clenched at her sides as she tried to steady herself. It was just Charles, she reminded herself. The same Charles who had been a friend, nothing more. Yet the weight of their shared history — or lack of it — lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable.

As the two men exchanged playful banter, (Y/N) found herself retreating toward the kitchen, needing a moment to collect herself. Her mother glanced up from arranging a platter of grilled vegetables.

"Who was at the door?"

"Charles," Y/N said, keeping her voice steady.

"Ah, Charles. Such a lovely and handsome young man," Mercedes said with a smile. "It’s good to see him again."

She nodded absently, her mind still swirling. This gathering had just taken an unexpected turn, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate it.

When the gathering moved outside, laughter and conversation filled the space like a comforting balm. Carlos now stood by the grill, expertly flipping burger patties, his brow furrowed in concentration. The rich sizzle of meat met the crackle of flames as he turned to Charles, who lounged nearby with a glass of wine in hand, looking far too relaxed for someone who had been enduring a season of relentless competition.

The golden afternoon light stretched lazily over the expansive gardens of the estate, dappling the neatly trimmed grass and casting soft shadows beneath the ancient olive trees. The scent of grilled meat and vegetables lingered in the warm air, mingling with the earthy aroma of wild rosemary and lavender that fringed the garden paths. Birds chirped in the distance, their melodies blending seamlessly with the occasional bark from Olive and Piñón.

“See, I told you I’d make these burgers one day,” Carlos declared with a triumphant grin, his Spanish accent thick with pride.

Charles chuckled, the sound warm and effortless. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day. You’ve been promising me these since we first started being teammates.”

“Well, better late than never, no?” Carlos shot back, flipping the final burger onto a platter and gesturing for Charles to grab the buns.

“Touché,” Charles admitted, standing to assist. His white linen shirt billowed slightly in the breeze, now with the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms that bore faint tan lines from countless hours under the sun.

Nearby, (Y/N) watched them from a shaded corner of the garden, her arms loosely crossed over her chest. She hadn’t intended to linger, but there was something mesmerizing about seeing the easy camaraderie between her brother and Charles. For years, their rivalry had been palpable, a tense undercurrent in the paddock, but now that Carlos had moved to Williams, there was a genuine warmth between them that hadn’t existed before.

It was strange, seeing Charles here, outside the context of race weekends and press conferences. He seemed lighter, more grounded. And yet, there was still that familiar glint in his eyes — a mixture of mischief and sincerity that had always made him impossible to ignore. With one look at his piercing green eyes came the sudden rush of memories—the podium dedication he’d made to her at Abu Dhabi and his raw, heartfelt confession at Monza months ago, still engraved in her mind.

From the moment I met you, I wished you were single. I wished I had a chance to show you what you deserved, to make you happy in ways he never did. Because if you were mine, I would never take you for granted. Not for a single second.

Carlos caught sight of her and waved enthusiastically, polling her away from her thoughts. “¡Hermana! Come here, you have to try these. They’re my masterpiece.”

Reluctantly, she made her way over, her sandals brushing softly against the grass. Olive trotted alongside her, tail wagging happily.

“Masterpiece might be a stretch,” she teased, arching a brow as she approached. “But I’ll humor you.”

“Trust me, you won’t regret it,” Carlos assured her, placing a perfectly assembled burger into her hands. “I should open a restaurant.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she quipped, taking a tentative bite. The burst of smoky flavor was immediate, and she couldn’t help but hum in appreciation. “Okay, I’ll admit — this is pretty good.”

Charles grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Careful, Dolcezza. His ego doesn’t need any more inflation.”

Carlos scoffed, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

As the conversation flowed around her, she kept glancing at Charles, his presence both familiar and disarming. There had always been an ease between them, a mutual understanding that didn’t require words. And yet, the events of the past year lingered in the spaces between their conversations — unspoken, but not forgotten.

At some point, Carlos excused himself to check on their parents, leaving her and Charles standing together beneath the olive trees. The breeze rustled the leaves above them, casting dancing patterns of light and shadow across the ground.

“So, long time no see” Charles began, cringing internally at his own words, “how have you been?,” his tone tentative but curious

She hesitated, the question hanging heavily in the air. She had grown so used to deflecting, to offering rehearsed answers that kept people at arm’s length. But Charles had always had a way of coaxing honesty from her, his sincerity like a balm against her defenses.

“I’ve been… surviving,” she admitted quietly, her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the garden. “It’s been strange, trying to figure out who I am without all of that.”

Charles nodded thoughtfully, his expression devoid of judgment. “I can imagine. Eight years is a long time.”

“Too long, maybe,” she murmured, her voice tinged with bitterness. “I keep thinking… What if I wasted all that time? What if I don’t know how to be me without him?”

“You didn’t waste it,” Charles said firmly. “You loved, you learned, and now you get to decide what comes next.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her. “I’ve tried dating again, you know. But it’s been a disaster. None of them know me — not really. They don’t know how I like my tea or that I hate when people leave wet towels on the floor. It’s exhausting, starting over.”

Charles’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Starting over is hard. But it’s also freeing. You get to redefine everything.”

She let out a scoff. “I’m not sure I even know where to begin.”

There was a pause, filled only by the rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of her family. Charles’s gaze never wavered from her, steady and grounding.

"Maybe you just need a change of scenery," he suggests thoughtfully. "New experiences, new adventures." His tone is playful but sincere.

Y/N frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can come with me sometimes,” he said simply. “Let’s do things you’ve never done before. Adventures, experiences, whatever you need to rediscover yourself. No expectations. Just two friends figuring out life,” he offered, his voice gentle but resolute. “Let me help. Let me show you the world—no strings attached.”

(Y/N) hesitates, skeptical. "Charles, I don't need distractions."

"It's not a distraction. It's a chance to rediscover yourself," he counters gently.

She stared at him, disbelief flickering across her features. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” he assured her. “I’m not saying I have all the answers, but I can promise you this — I won’t let you get stuck in the past. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even find some inspiration along the way.”

(Y/N)’s heart ached with a mixture of hope and skepticism. The idea was tempting, but it also felt daunting. She had spent so long retreating into herself after Abu Dhabi, afraid to face the world. Could she really step out of that shadow?

“I don’t know, Charles,” she said hesitantly. “What if I’m just… broken?”

He shook his head, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not broken, (Y/N). You’re just in transition. And that’s okay.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with possibility. She bit her lip, torn between fear and the faint glimmer of hope Charles had ignited.

"You don’t have to decide now,” he added softly. “Take your time. Think about it. The offer’s open for you to take it.”

She nodded slowly, her mind swirling with thoughts. What exactly did Charles mean by that? Was he offering her the world — a chance to rediscover herself beyond the weight of heartbreak and lost years? Or was there a double meaning hidden in his words, a subtle invitation to take him, too? The idea lingered, unsettling yet alluring. Her heart clenched, torn between longing and uncertainty. There was something about him — the steadiness he offered without pressure or demand — that made the prospect feel less terrifying and perhaps even worth considering.

Her gaze flickered to him, standing there with his quiet confidence. She couldn’t deny how good Charles looked now, the late afternoon golden light catching in his tousled hair, tracing the sharp angles of his face and the warm sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to look away. He was devastatingly handsome, effortlessly so, but she shook the thought away. That wasn’t what she needed right now. Love and romance had only ever anchored her to someone else’s orbit, and she was desperate to learn how to stand on her own two feet again. No, this was about her — about finding her footing in a world that still spun without Max.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, the words laden with unspoken gratitude.

Charles nodded, trying to mask the nervous thrum in his chest. He hadn’t planned this proposition at all, when the words poured out of his mouth they did with anything but friendship in mind — or at least that’s what he told himself. She didn’t need a suitor, and he had no intention of becoming one just yet. But somewhere, deep down, he held onto the faint hope that maybe, someday, things could be different. For now, he wanted to see her smile again, to help her find joy in places she hadn’t dared to look. If that was all he could give, he would do it gladly.

“For what?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“For… being here,” she admitted. “For not giving up on me.”

Charles smiled, warm and sincere. “Always Dolcezza.”

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the garden in hues of pink, lilac and gold, (Y/N) felt something shift within her — a tentative step toward healing, toward rediscovery. And though she didn’t have all the answers, she knew one thing for certain: Charles’s new friendship was a lifeline she hadn’t realized she needed.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough to take that first step back into the world.

φ

The Spanish Grand Prix weekend arrived cloaked in tension and nostalgia, casting shadows over (Y/N)'s resolve. The echoes of roaring engines and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber filled the air, stirring something deep within her. Long gone were the days when she walked these grounds with Max by her side, but the memories lingered like ghosts, clinging to the edges of her consciousness. The paddock buzzed with life — journalists, mechanics, and fans moving in a chaotic symphony. Headlines about her disappearance from the F1 world had swirled for months, masked by the temporary excuse of her book releases. But now that she was out of drafts, that facade no longer held weight.

Her family had convinced her of attending, rallying around Carlos as he embarked on a new chapter of his career with Williams. She couldn’t disappoint them, even if the thought of stepping back into this world filled her with trepidation. The familiar sights and sounds were both comforting and suffocating, each corner a reminder of what she had lost — and what she still hadn't found.

Slipping away from her family’s watchful gaze, she maneuvered through the bustling paddock toward the Ferrari motorhome. Determination fueled her steps; she had made a decision and intended to give Charles her answer. Their conversation at the Sainz family gathering a few days ago had lingered in her mind, a flicker of possibility in the midst of her existential crisis.

The motorhome loomed ahead, a sleek fortress of crimson and black. She took a steadying breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside. The hum of machinery and muted voices filled the space, but she was focused on one destination — Charles’s driver room. Her knuckles brushed against the door, but before she could knock, it swung open.

There he stood, shirtless, a towel slung casually around his neck. Drops of water clung to his skin, catching the light and tracing the defined contours of his torso. (Y/N)’s breath hitched involuntarily, her gaze wandering before she could stop herself. The toned lines of his abs, the faint trail that dipped lower —

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she whipped her head to the side, staring determinedly at the wall.

“Ah, désolé,” Charles said, clearly amused. “Didn’t expect visitors.”

“I—uh—didn’t know you were... busy,” she managed, her voice strained.

He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing. “You’re welcome to wait while I put a shirt on, but I won’t be offended if you enjoy the view.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, narrowing despite her embarrassment. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“And yet you’re still here,” he teased, stepping back to let her in.

She turned her back to him, focusing on the framed photos lining the wall. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, but she willed herself to stay composed.

“I came to give you my answer,” she said, her voice steadier now.

Charles’s tone shifted, softening with genuine interest. “Oh?”

“I’ll do it. Your proposal, I mean,” she clarified quickly, avoiding any implications. “Just as friends, right? No expectations.”

There was a beat of silence, and she dared to glance over her shoulder. Charles had pulled on a shirt, but his expression was unreadable — a mix of surprise and something warmer.

“Deal,” he said, though the flicker of disappointment was almost imperceptible.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, heart racing. “See you around, Leclerc.”

As she walked away, she heard his laugh echo down the hall, rich and genuine. Her lips twitched despite herself, but she scolded her wandering thoughts. This was about reclaiming her life, not falling for someone new.

The race itself came with a brilliance that matched the electric atmosphere of stands roaring to life under the blistering Barcelona sun. The atmosphere thrummed with tension and excitement, the grandstands a sea of colors waving flags and banners. The familiar scent of Fuel lingered in the air, mingling with the electric energy of thousands of fans who had come to witness the spectacle of speed and adrenaline.

The Williams garage was a sea of blue and white, her family buzzing with excitement. Carlos was in high spirits, determined to make his mark with his new team. Y/N stood among them, trying to soak in the positivity, her heart pounding in sync with the engines revving on the grid.  The familiar thrill buzzed through her veins — a visceral reminder that no matter how much time passed, no matter how far she tried to run away, racing was in her blood. She was a Sainz, after all. Fuel ran through her veins. The roar of twenty engines was like music, each note vibrating through her bones.

Her eyes drifted to the grid as the cars lined up, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Carlos’s Williams gleamed under the Spanish sun, a blue-and-white beacon of determination. Her heart swelled with pride for her brother, who was ready to prove his mettle in front of their home crowd.

Further ahead, the scarlet Ferrari of Charles Leclerc sat poised, an emblem of precision and power. (Y/N)’s gaze lingered on him longer than she intended, but there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself — composed, yet fiercely competitive. He had pole position, and judging by the determined set of his jaw, he wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. Charles had always commanded attention, and today was no exception. His focused expression, the way he carried himself — it was magnetic. She shook her head, chastising herself for the distraction.

The lights went out, and the race exploded into motion. The deafening roar of engines filled the air as the cars hurtled toward Turn 1. She gripped the edge of the pit wall, her pulse racing as Carlos made a clean start, holding his position against a charging midfield.

Charles, meanwhile, launched flawlessly, defending his lead from a fast-approaching Red Bull. The battle at the front was fierce, every corner a test of nerves and skill. Her breath hitched as Charles defended aggressively into Turn 3, forcing Max Verstappen to back off. The precision with which he navigated the track was mesmerizing — a dance on the edge of control.

Lap after lap, the race unfolded with heart-stopping intensity. Carlos fought tooth and nail, executing daring overtakes and defending his position with the tenacity of a seasoned warrior. The Williams team buzzed with energy, their optimism growing with every successful move he made.

(Y/N)’s chest tightened with pride as Carlos surged forward, climbing the ranks with a calculated aggression that mirrored their father’s rally racing days. The Spanish crowd roared with every overtaking maneuver, their support palpable.

“Come on, Carlos,” she whispered under her breath, willing him to keep pushing.

At the front, Charles was locked in a strategic battle, fending off relentless pressure from the Red Bull behind him. The tension was unbearable, each sector split flashing on the screens like a countdown to chaos.

“Hold him off, Charles,” (Y/N) murmured, her voice barely audible over the noise.

And he did. Lap after lap, he maintained his composure, extracting every ounce of performance from the Ferrari. His lines were precise, his braking perfect. Watching him was a masterclass in control and determination.

As the final laps approached, the pit wall became a hive of nervous energy. Carlos was holding steady in P5, a remarkable feat for Williams, while Charles was on the brink of victory.

“Last lap,” a voice crackled over the team radio.

(Y/N)’s heart was in her throat as the cars thundered around the circuit one final time. Carlos defended fiercely against Kimi Antonelli’s Mercedes behind him, refusing to relinquish his position.

Up front, Charles crossed the line, taking the checkered flag with a triumphant roar from the Ferrari garage. The crowd erupted, a sea of red waving in celebration. (Y/N)’s breath caught as she watched him pump his fist in the air, his victory securing him a commanding lead in the championship.

Carlos crossed the line moments later, claiming a solid P5 finish. The Williams garage erupted into cheers, the team hugging and clapping in celebration. (Y/N)’s father, Carlos Sainz Sr., had tears glistening in his eyes as he embraced his son, pride radiating from every pore.

(Y/N)’s heart swelled, a lump forming in her throat. This was what racing was about — the triumphs, the struggles, the moments that made your heart race and your spirit soar.

As the podium ceremony commenced, (Y/N) found herself drawn to the spectacle. Charles stood tall on the top step, his smile wide and genuine. The Monegasque national anthem played, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for him.

But then Charles caught her gaze. The world seemed to blur as he winked, playful and confident, just as he had in Abu Dhabi. He lifted the winner’s trophy, signaling to it and then to her. Her breath hitched, her heart doing an involuntary flip. The underlying implication wasn’t lost on her, and heat crept up her neck. 

Damn him.

The paddock was winding down as Y/N prepared to leave with her family, the adrenaline of the race still thrumming in her veins. Carlos's strong finish and Charles's victory were still vivid in her mind, their accomplishments filling her with a pride that was both fierce and bittersweet. Yet beneath that rush of excitement, there was a nagging weight — something unspoken clinging to her like the humidity in the Barcelona evening.

As they made their way toward the exit, she patted the pockets of her blazer and realized she had forgotten her airpods.

“I’ll catch up,” she told them, waving off her parents' concerned looks.

Her sister Anna raised a brow. “You sure?”

“Positive. It won’t take long.”

With a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she turned back toward the garages. The corridors were quieter now, the frenzied chaos of race day fading into the hush of impending night. Shadows stretched across the pavement, mingling with the lingering scent of burnt rubber and sun-warmed asphalt.

She moved with purpose, her heels clicking against the ground, determined to retrieve her forgotten item and rejoin her family. But as she rounded a corner, her steps faltered, breath catching in her throat.

Max.

He stood just a few paces ahead, his familiar figure sharp against the backdrop of the fading sun. His stance was casual, hands tucked into his pockets, but there was a tension in his posture that spoke of years of high-stakes racing and battles both on and off the track. Beside him stood Kelly, her hand resting on her rounded belly, the fabric of her dress clinging to the unmistakable curve of pregnancy.

The engagement ring on her finger caught the light, gleaming like a taunt.

Time seemed to warp, stretching painfully as (Y/N) stood frozen in place. Her heart clenched, a visceral ache that she hadn’t felt in months. Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to take a steadying inhale. This was life now. Max was no longer hers, and she had no right to linger on what could have been.

Kelly noticed her first, offering a polite but wary smile. “(Y/N),” she greeted warmly, if a bit cautiously. “It’s been a while.”

She forced a smile onto her lips. “Kelly.” Her gaze flickered to Max, whose blue eyes held a mix of surprise and unreadable emotion. “Max.”

He nodded, his voice low. “(Y/N).”

The air was thick with unspoken memories, the kind that lingered even after months of distance. Kelly shifted slightly, her hand instinctively moving to her belly.

(Y/N)’s stomach twisted, but she forced a polite smile.

“It’s good to see you. Almost didn’t recognize you — you’ve been off the grid.” Kelly offered a warm, yet cautious smile.

“I’ve been... busy,” she answered vaguely.

“Yes, I get that. I’m almost due,” she said conversationally, her tone gentle but perhaps too aware of the weight of the moment. “We’re having a boy.”

She did the math without meaning to — nearly ten months had passed since that devastating breakup in Hungary. He must have been with Kelly not long after their relationship ended. Her chest tightened as the realization sank in — While she was drowning in loss at Mallorca, Max had moved on swiftly, almost immediately.

Her heart clenched again, but she schooled her expression into something resembling polite interest. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kelly said softly. “Well, I’ll give you two a moment.” She glanced at Max before excusing herself, leaving them standing awkwardly in the fading light.

Silence hung between them, heavy and oppressive. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of what to say. The last time they had spoken, emotions had run wild, raw and unfiltered. Now, there was only a strange hollowness where their bond had once been.

“You look well,” Max offered, his voice tentative.

“So do you,” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt but betraying a flick of bitterness. 

They stood there, the weight of their history pressing between them.

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting hers again. “I’ve seen the headlines about your books. It’s impressive, Y/N. I’m happy for you. You’ve always deserved success.”

There was a tinged irony to his words. He thought she had moved on, found success and fulfillment. How wrong he was, If only he knew, she thought bitterly. Her creative well had run dry, and inspiration eluded her like a phantom she could no longer grasp. But she wouldn’t let him see that.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I’m glad things are going well for you too. Kelly seems… wonderful.”

“She is,” Max admitted, though his tone was gentle, not boastful. “And I’m happy.”

There it was. The confirmation she hadn’t realized she was dreading. He had found happiness without her, built a new life with someone else. And while it stung, it was also freeing in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m happy for you too,” she said sincerely, even though her heart ached with the weight of those words. “You deserve it.”

Max’s expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. “We had good times, didn’t we?”

“We did,” she agreed, her voice thick with emotion. “But it was time to let go. We weren’t happy anymore.”

He nodded, as if accepting the truth they both knew but had never spoken aloud.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for. Take care (Y/N),” he said earnestly.

“You too Max. I hope you keep finding happiness,” she replied, meaning every word.

They stood there for a moment longer, the past finally settling between them like dust after a storm. There was no animosity, no bitterness — just closure.

As they parted ways, (Y/N) felt a strange sense of relief wash over her. Max was no longer hers, and perhaps he never truly had been, always focused on racing before anything else. Life had moved on.

Her steps were lighter as she made her way back toward the exit, where her family waited. But as she walked, her mind buzzed with thoughts — not of Max, but of the future.

The rest of the night blurred in a haze of music and flashing lights. Her siblings had dragged her to a club, determined to celebrate Carlos’s strong finish where she drowned her thoughts in drinks, dancing with reckless abandon. The ache in her chest dulled with each beat of the music, but it never fully disappeared.

By the time she stumbled back to her hotel, head spinning and heart heavy, clarity struck through the fog. A message from Charles lit up her phone:

Looking forward to our adventures. Let’s make them unforgettable.

Her lips curved into a faint smile. Perhaps it was time to let the past go and embrace whatever came next. Max had moved on, and now it was her turn.

And with Charles by her side, perhaps the world wasn’t so daunting after all.  With that thought, she drifted into sleep, the Barcelona night stretching before her, filled with possibility.

φ

He had been persistent but never overbearing. After the Spanish Grand Prix and her unexpected agreement to his proposal, they'd fallen into an easy rhythm of back-and-forth messages, planning adventures that had drawn her out of the numbness she'd felt for so long. 

Through playful back-and-forth texts, Charles kept his promise, planning and curating a series of adventures meant to push (Y/N) beyond her comfort zone. Their conversations brimmed with excitement, teasing suggestions of daring escapades and quiet explorations alike. Despite his meticulous planning, Charles always left room for spontaneity — a gentle reminder that this journey was as much about rediscovering freedom as it was about seeing the world.

It didn’t take much convincing for Carlos, her ever-enthusiastic older brother, to jump on board with the idea. Thrilled to have his baby sister along for the rest of the season, Carlos welcomed her presence in the paddock with open arms, insisting that her infectious energy would be a good-luck charm for Williams. Between races, Charles kept his promise, inviting her to explore the world in between the chaos of race weekends.

Monaco, naturally, had to be their starting point — Charles’s hometown and the most iconic GP on the calendar. Once tainted by memories with Max, now revealed itself in a fresh light under Charles' guidance. From swimming in crystal-clear waters and hiking through hidden trails to discovering quaint cafés, gardens and cobblestone streets tucked away from tourist eyes, the quiet hum of the city beneath a golden sunset sparked her creativity anew became her new canvases of inspiration. Charles had a way of turning the familiar into something magical, making even the simplest corners feel new, showing her a side of the city she had never known, despite having lived there in the past for years. They wandered through markets brimming with vibrant produce, shared quiet conversations by the harbor, and laughed as they stumbled upon paths even Charles hadn't ventured down before. 

Slowly, (Y/N) realized how different these experiences felt — Charles never dictated where they should go; he merely invited her, always giving her the choice. There was no pressure, no expectation. Just an open hand and an easygoing smile that made her want to say yes, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. And with each step, she found herself not only rediscovering Monaco but also piecing together fragments of herself she thought she'd lost.

On Race day the streets of the principality buzzed with life, electric in the aftermath of Charles’s monumental win. His second victory on home soil had sent the principality into a frenzy, and celebrations stretched from the marina to the glittering rooftops of luxury hotels. Music pulsed from every corner, mingling with laughter and the clink of glasses. The scent of salt and champagne lingered in the air as she danced under the starlit sky, the glow of the city casting golden reflections on the water.

Charles was never far from her, his presence grounding even amidst the chaos. He had abandoned his race suit for a tight black shirt that clung to his lean muscular frame. His victory grin hadn’t faded, and every so often, their eyes would meet across the throng of people, a spark passing between them that neither dared to acknowledge.

Her body swayed to the rhythm of the music, heart thrumming with a mixture of exhilaration and the heady buzz of too much champagne. Charles had handed her a flute earlier, insisting on a toast, and she hadn’t stopped since. The warmth in her veins made her bolder, lighter.

At some point, their dancing had become closer, the line between friendship and something more blurring with every brush of skin. His hand lingered at her waist, hers resting against his shoulder. The world narrowed to just the two of them, the music fading into a distant hum.

Tentative touches became deliberate—a graze of wandering fingers, a fleeting press of hips. Their breath mingled as they moved, the space between them charged with unspoken tension. (Y/N) felt a heat rise within her, unfamiliar and thrilling. Her gaze flickered to his lips, and for a moment, she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

But then the spell was broken.

“Hey,” a voice slurred from beside them. A man, short but broad-shouldered, stumbled slightly as he addressed her. His grin was too wide, his eyes glassy. “Wanna get out of here? My hotel’s just up the street.”

(Y/N) blinked, the daze of champagne clouding her judgment. The suggestion hung in the air, tempting in its simplicity. She opened her mouth, words teetering on the edge, but Charles stepped in before she could respond.

“I think she’s good right here,” he said, his tone polite but firm. His hand tightened around her waist, anchoring her.

The man’s grin faltered, but he shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He stumbled off into the crowd, leaving a strange silence in his wake.

(Y/N) exhaled shakily, the reality of the moment crashing down on her. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice unsteady. “I think I almost said yes.”

Charles’s brow furrowed. “You don’t have to explain.”

“No, I do.” She ran a hand through her hair, suddenly feeling exposed. “It’s just… after Max, I don’t really know how to do this anymore. I mean, I’ve only ever been with him. Sexually, I mean.”

Charles’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “You don’t have to—”

“We started dating when I was sixteen,” she continued her drunken rambling, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “After we broke up, I just… I wasn’t sure how to approach that with anyone else. Even strangers.”

Her confession hung between them, raw and vulnerable.

Charles’s expression softened, his gaze warm. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for your choices.”

She looked away, the sting of embarrassment creeping up her spine. “It just makes me feel... stuck. Like I missed out on something.”

He hesitated, then reached for her hand, his touch gentle. “You haven’t missed out on anything. And you’re not stuck. You’re figuring things out.”

She nodded, grateful for his understanding. But what she didn’t see was the flicker of something darker in his eyes—a primal instinct he fought to suppress. The idea of her innocence, her vulnerability, stirred something deep within him, something he knew he had no right to entertain. He clenched his jaw, silently berating himself. His role was to help her, not corrupt her.

“We should get out of here,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Walk it off.”

She agreed, and they made their way down the quiet path along the harbor. The water lapped gently against the docked yachts, their reflections shimmering under the moonlight.

“Thank you,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “For saving me back there.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his lips curving into a faint smile.

Their footsteps echoed against the pavement, the tension between them easing into something calmer. Yet beneath the surface, something had shifted. They both felt it but neither spoke of it.

The days that followed were filled with new experiences—From snorkeling in crystal-clear waters off the Amalfi Coast to hiking through mist-shrouded mountains in Switzerland, each experience had been a step toward rediscovering herself and bringing them closer, their connection deepening with every shared laugh and quiet moment.

Skydiving marks a pivotal turning point. The rush of free-fall strips away her fears, and when Charles grips her hand in exhilaration after landing, their shared laughter feels louder than the rush of wind. And always, at the end of the day, she would say the same thing.

 “Thank you, Charles.” 

And he would smile, knowing that those two words carried more weight than she could ever express.

It was a slow burn, this thing between them—unspoken but undeniable. And neither of them was in a hurry to define it.

The build up tension eventually bursts one evening in Monaco. The sea breeze curled through the open terrace of her hotel room, carrying the scent of salt and lavender from the Mediterranean gardens nearby. The quiet hum of life in Monaco faded into the background as (Y/N) leaned against the cool iron railing, her gaze fixed on the shimmering waters below. Shadows danced across the cobblestones, mingling with the golden hues of dusk.

Her phone buzzed on the table behind her. Without looking, she knew who it was. (Y/N)’s lips curved faintly as she picked up the phone.

“Still up for tonight, Dolcezza?”

“I’m not sure I’m prepared to face whatever madness you have planned this time.”  She half-joked through the phone.

“Madness? Moi? I was thinking something simple—just a quiet night by the sea. Bring a jacket. It might get cold.”

Her heart did an inexplicable little flip. His voice always carried that light, teasing tone, but beneath it was something steady, something that had become a source of comfort she hadn’t realized she needed.

“See you soon. Charlie”

She slipped into a light sweater, its soft fabric brushing against her skin, and made her way to the rendezvous point Charles had suggested—a hidden cove far from the bustling streets of Monaco.

When she arrived, the scene took her breath away. The cove was illuminated by lanterns Charles had strung up along the rocky outcrop, their warm glow reflecting on the gentle waves. A blanket was spread across the sand, complete with a small picnic basket.

“You really know how to set the mood,” she teased as he turned to greet her.

Charles grinned. “Only the best for you.”

Her pulse skipped. It was so easy with him—this banter, this comfort. Yet there was always an undercurrent of something more, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront.

They settled onto the blanket, the soft hum of the waves filling the space between their conversations. Charles poured them each a glass of chilled rosé, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed her the glass.

“To new adventures,” he toasted, his eyes gleaming in the lantern light.

“To getting out of my comfort zone,” she countered, clinking her glass against his.

They drank in silence, the wine crisp and refreshing. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from their favorite childhood memories to the absurdities of life in the public eye. Charles’s laughter was infectious, and she found herself leaning closer, drawn in by his warmth.

As the night deepened, the air grew cooler. (Y/N) wrapped her sweater tighter around herself, but Charles noticed.

“Here,” he said, draping his jacket over her shoulders. The scent of cedar and something distinctly him enveloped her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

He smiled, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.“You've thanked me a hundred times,” he says softly, his voice tinged with warmth. “But I need to say it now — thank you for letting me share this with you.”

Waves lap gently at the shore, a rhythm that mirrors the pulse between them. Charles breaks the comfortable silence.

She turns to him, heart thudding against her ribs. “I think I needed this more than I realized.”

His gaze searches hers, steady and sincere. “I told you, you're not broken, dolcezza. You're just finding your way again. And it's beautiful to watch.”

Her breath catches, the vulnerability between them palpable. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the touch lingering. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface now crackled like a live wire.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low.

“Of course.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

The question, once a source of frustration, now feels gentle and filled with possibility. So she laughed softly. “That’s random.”

“Humor me.”

She considered it for a moment. “It used to be blue, but right now?... I think it might be rosso corsa.” She whispers.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Good choice.” And then he laughs, softly with realisation, a sound that warms her chest. 

The air thickened, charged with anticipation. (Y/N)’s heart raced as he shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers. His gaze dropped to her lips, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

She knew this was a crossroads. She could pull back, retreat into the safety of friendship, or she could lean into the unknown, take the leap she’d been too afraid to take.

Charles’s breath fanned across her cheek, warm and inviting. Her resolve wavered, and before she could overthink it, she closed the distance between them.

The first brush of their lips was tentative, testing. But then something shifted. The kiss deepened, fueled by the unspoken emotions that had been building between them. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin, while her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt.

Time seemed to stand still, the world fading into a blur of sensation. The taste of wine lingered on his lips, mingling with the heady thrill of finally giving in to what had been simmering between them.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, (Y/N) searched his eyes, finding a reflection of her own disbelief and wonder.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words carrying a weight they never had before.

Charles’s smile was soft, his thumb tracing a gentle path along her cheek. “I think that one was for me.”

And perhaps it was. For love, for healing, for taking a leap into the unknown. They sat there, wrapped in each other and the promise of something new. For the first time in a long time, (Y/N) felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be—no longer defined by the past but open to whatever the future held.

The air hums between them, electric and inevitable. Slowly, as though drawn by an unseen force, she leans back in. He meets him halfway, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss is tentative at first, testing the waters, but it deepens with a sweetness that speaks of promises and newfound beginnings.

And it started here, with him.

φ

As the 2025 season progressed, so did Charles and (Y/N)’s relationship, quietly blossoming amidst the chaos of race weekends, media scrutiny, and the exhilarating highs and lows of F1. To the public, she was simply there to support Carlos, her older brother, cheering from the Williams garage as he fought for solid points finishes. But those in the know — a select, trusted few — were aware of the subtle glances, hidden smiles, and fleeting touches exchanged between them whenever they thought no one was looking.

Spending time with Carlos came naturally; he was her steadfast brother and protector, the anchor in the storm that the paddock could sometimes be. But she also found herself forming bonds with Charles's inner circle. Joris, his easygoing friend with a sharp sense of humor, and Andrea, his dedicated trainer with a heart of gold, quickly grew fond of her. They saw her not as an extension of Charles but as someone worth knowing in her own right. Unlike Max’s friends, who had once treated her as just ‘Max’s girlfriend,’ Joris and Andrea asked about her life, laughed at her witty comebacks, and genuinely enjoyed her company.

As summer break arrived in August, Charles proposed a plan: the first half with his family and friends, the second half with hers. “Balance, no?” he had teased, grinning that signature mischievous smile.

The first part of their holiday unfolded on a sun-drenched yacht along the French coast. It was the first time she would meet his family as his girlfriend, and nerves prickled under her skin as they sailed toward the gleaming vessel anchored off the shoreline.

“They’re going to love you,” Charles assured her, his hand warm on the small of her back as they stepped onto the deck.

His mother, Pascale, was the first to greet them, her embrace warm and genuine. Lorenzo and Arthur followed, their easy smiles dissolving any lingering tension. Even Charlotte and Jade, Lorenzo and Arthur’s girlfriends, welcomed her with open arms, immediately drawing her into their conversations.

Those days were filled with laughter, good food, and playful banter. Pascale watched with quiet contentment as (Y/N) fit seamlessly into their dynamic, her laughter blending effortlessly with the family’s joy. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Charles found himself alone with his mother, leaning against the railing as they watched Arthur and (Y/N) teasing each other over some inside joke.

“You’re happy,” Pascale observed, her voice gentle.

Charles smiled, his gaze softening as it lingered on his girlfriend. “I am.”

“She’s the one for you, isn’t she?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. She is.”

Pascale’s hand found his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Then hold on to her.”

The second part of the summer break took them to Costa Rica, where the Sainz family had gathered for their annual vacation. Charles joined them as “just a friend,” but Anna’s knowing glances and (Y/N)’s parents’ perceptive gazes told a different story. Her father, Carlos Sainz Sr., was particularly watchful, his protective instincts never far from the surface.

On the last night of their vacation, as the sun set over the ocean and a warm breeze rustled through the trees, Anna cornered her while their parents poured glasses of wine on the terrace.

“So,” Anna teased, her grin mischievous, “first Max, now Charles? Is this a pattern with Carlos’s teammates?”

(Y/N) groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Please don’t start.”

Their father’s brows furrowed with concern. “Charles is a good man, though?”

“Yes,” she said earnestly. “He’s… he’s different. Good-hearted. I wouldn’t be with him otherwise.”

Carlos Sr. nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Even if you’re my baby girl, you’re an adult now. I trust your judgment.”

Their mother, Mercedes, chimed in with a playful smile. “Carlos is too blind to notice the way Charles looks at you, but a mother always sees these things.”

Heat crept up (Y/N)’s neck, but there was a warmth in her chest too — the kind that came from being seen and understood.

After the summer break, she continued traveling alongside Charles, her days filled with the thrill of races and the quiet joy of shared moments with Charles. But when the Azerbaijan GP arrived, she found herself unable to attend.

Charles had a disastrous race, and when she called to comfort him afterwards, his voice was strained, disappointment heavy in his tone.

“I just needed you there,” he admitted quietly, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll be at the next one. Promise. ”

But Charles had never been one to wait when something mattered to him. The very next day, a knock at her front door in her flat startled her.

Opening it, she found Charles standing there, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his expression both tired and determined.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“I needed to see you,” he said simply.

The city of Madrid pulsed with its usual rhythm, but inside the sanctuary of (Y/N)’s flat, time stood still. Curtains drawn to keep the world at bay, soft amber light from scattered lamps casting a warm glow across the living space, they existed in a bubble of their own making. Charles had arrived days earlier, seeking refuge from the relentless pressures of the championship fight. His usual composed demeanor had cracked under the weight of expectations, and she had seen the exhaustion lingering in his eyes the moment he stepped through her door.

She hadn’t asked questions. He didn’t need to explain.

They simply were, moving through the quiet, sacred spaces of her home with an ease that spoke of their deepening connection. Mornings were spent curled up on the couch, her head resting against his shoulder as they sipped coffee in comfortable silence. Afternoons drifted by with music playing softly in the background, their conversations meandering through light-hearted banter and moments of raw honesty.

And then there were the nights — when the world faded completely, leaving only the two of them.

Charles had always been tactile, his touch a grounding force. His fingers would trace absent patterns along her arm as they talked, his gaze steady and filled with something unspoken. She cherished these quiet moments, grateful that he didn’t push her away when the pressure mounted.

On one such evening, the air thick with the scent of rain from an earlier storm, (Y/N) sat beside him on the floor, their backs against the couch. Her hand rested atop his, their fingers loosely intertwined. The TV flickered with muted images, forgotten background noise to their hushed conversation.

“You’ve been quiet,” she murmured, turning her head to study him.

His jaw clenched, the flicker of tension evident. “Just thinking.”

“About the championship?”

He nodded, exhaling slowly. “It’s… a lot.”

“I know,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “But you don’t have to carry it all alone.”

His eyes met hers, the vulnerability there making her heart ache. “It’s hard not to.”

“You have me,” she reminded him, her voice firm despite the tenderness in her tone.

A faint smile curved his lips. “I know. And I’m grateful for that.”

The weight of the moment hung between them, heavy yet filled with an undercurrent of something more profound.

That night, as shadows danced along the walls and the city hummed beyond the windows, something shifted within (Y/N). Love had always been a treacherous thing for her, tangled with fear and uncertainty. But with Charles, it was different — steady, grounding, a magnetic force that pulled her closer until resistance felt impossible.

She wasn’t afraid anymore. Not with him.

“I’m ready,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft hum of the night.

His brow furrowed in question. “For what?”

“To give myself fully to you.” Her gaze was unwavering, filled with quiet resolve.

Charles’s breath hitched, the weight of her words sinking in. “Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice thick with emotion.

In response, she cupped his face, her lips capturing his in a kiss that spoke of love, trust, and a fierce determination to show him just how certain she was. The world fell away as the kiss deepened, their souls blending in a way that felt as if the universe had been leading them to this very moment.

There was nothing rushed, nothing uncertain. Only a shared love for what they were building together.

Their breaths mingled in the dimly lit room, the air thick with the scent of rain and something deeper – the raw energy of love made tangible. Charles's fingertips traced delicate lines down the curve of her spine, memorizing every dip and rise as though she were the map to a world he'd only just begun to discover.

(Y/N)'s heart pounded against her ribs, not from nerves but from the overwhelming beauty of the moment. There was no hesitation, only the quiet surrender of two souls drawn together by something far greater than desire alone.

Soft whimpers escaped her lips as his kisses trailed from the hollow of her throat to the curve of her shoulder, each press of his mouth leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Her hands roamed across the taut expanse of his back, feeling the strength that lay beneath his smooth skin.

"Charles," she breathed, his name a prayer on her lips.

He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers, eyes darkened with lust but still gentle, always gentle. "I'm here," he promised, voice thick with devotion.

And he was. Fully present, fully hers.

Their mouths met again, the kiss deepening into something that spoke of trust, love, and a longing to give and receive without barriers. Time ceased to matter as they moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that was both instinctual and sacred.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring herself to him as waves of sensation coursed through her. His quiet groan reverberated against her skin, a raw and unfiltered sound that spoke of how deeply he felt this moment too.

Every touch, every breath, every whispered plea was a testament to their journey — from heartache and uncertainty to this place of unshakable connection.

There was a reverence in the way Charles held her, as though she were something precious, something fragile and infinite all at once. And she met him with equal tenderness, her touch a vow that she was no longer afraid to love, no longer afraid to be loved.

Their bodies moved as one, a seamless blend of giving and receiving, of exploration and certainty. Skin slick with sweat, limbs entwined, they surrendered to the moment, their souls blending in a way that transcended the physical.

As they reached the peak of their shared passion, (Y/N) buried her face against his neck, her breath warm against his skin. Charles's grip on her tightened, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. 

Their hearts beat in sync, the world outside fading until there was nothing but them, suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated love. When the intensity ebbed, they remained tangled together, their bodies still pressed close, unwilling to break the connection.

Later, as they lay tangled in the sheets, their breathing slowing to a harmonious rhythm, Charles pressed a kiss to her temple. “I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out unbidden but utterly true.

Emotion welled in her chest, too overwhelming for words. Instead, she whispered back, “Thank you.”

The unspoken meaning hung in the air between them — Thank you for loving me. Thank you for teaching me to love the world again. Thank you for never giving up on me.

They remained cocooned in their sacred space for the rest of his small break, limbs tangled together as they moved through her apartment with an intimacy that spoke of shared promises and future dreams. The outside world buzzed with tabloids and speculation, but inside these walls, there was only them.

Charles's laughter echoed through her flat, a sound she had grown to treasure. Blissfully unaware of the outside chaos, they spent lazy mornings in bed, afternoons cooking together, and evenings wrapped in each other’s arms. 

But, as with all things, their idyllic bubble was not meant to last.

Carlos had remained blissfully unaware of their rendezvous as well — until he didn't.

The door burst open without warning, the clatter of keys echoing through the space.

“(Y/N)?” Her older brother's voice rang out, loud and insistent, muttering about forgotten golf clubs.  “You here?”

Y/N’s heart plummeted as panic surged through her veins, realizing the situation they were in — her topless frame, straddling a shirtless Charles on the couch.

“Shit,” she hissed, scrambling to grab the nearest blanket.

Carlos rounded the corner, his eyes widening comically as he took in the scene. His jaw dropped, words failing him entirely.

Charles, ever the composed one, cleared his throat, his expression caught between amusement and mild embarrassment. “Hey, mate.”

Carlos blinked once. Twice. Then his eyes narrowed. “No. Absolutely not.” Then pointing an accusatory finger at them. “What the hell is going on here?”

(Y/N) groaned, burying her face in Charles's shoulder. “Kill me now,” she muttered.

Charles's laughter rumbled against her, and despite the mortifying situation, she couldn’t help but smile.

Their little bubble had burst, but as she met Charles's gaze, filled with love and unwavering support, she knew one thing for certain — whatever came next, they would face it together.

“Carlos—” she started, her face flaming with mortification.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing, Leclerc?” Carlos cut her off, his tone a mixture of disbelief and overprotective outrage.

Charles raised his hands in mock surrender, though a mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “I swear, this isn’t what it looks like.”

Carlos crossed his arms. “It looks like you’re corrupting my sister.”

“Well... then it’s exactly what it looks like,” He quipped, earning a groan from (Y/N).

“Mon cœur,” she warned under her breath, though she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“Mon cœur?,” Carlos arched his brow and threw his hands up in exasperation. “First Ferrari, now my family? Is nothing sacred?”

Charles stepped forward, his expression softening. “Look, mate, I get it. You’re her big brother and you want to protect her. But I’m serious about this. About her.”

Carlos’s eyes flicked between them, his protective instincts warring with something softer. “You’d better be.”

“I am,” Charles said firmly. “I love her. A lot.”

Carlos sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Fine. But if you mess this up, I’ll—”

“I won’t,” Charles promised, cutting him off.

Carlos grumbled something under his breath before pointing a finger at (Y/N). “You’re still a menace for dating this one”

“But a happily in love menace,” she shot back, grinning at Charles, who squeezed her hand and gave her a tender kiss.

Carlos shook his head, muttering in Spanish as he walked toward the fridge. “I need a drink. Please get dressed, both of you.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Charles let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “That went... better than expected?”

And when Carlos finally came around, grumbling but supportive, (Y/N) knew they had turned a corner.

φ

The Yas Marina Circuit gleamed under the relentless winter desert sun that loomed high over the Abu Dhabi circuit, casting a shimmering golden hue across the paddock, the race track pristine asphalt shimmering in the heat. Palm trees swayed gently in the dry breeze, a picturesque contrast to the storm of emotions brewing across the paddock. The air crackled with anticipation, as if the universe itself held its breath for what was about to unfold.

Abu Dhabi, the final race of the 2025 Formula 1 season, would crown a champion.

There was an almost palpable tension in the air, a mixture of nerves and anticipation crackling like static electricity. The entire racing world was here to witness history, as three titans of Formula 1—Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, and Max Verstappen—stood tied for the championship title. Three contenders stood on the precipice of glory. They were tied in points—a statistical rarity that had the world captivated. 

Everything came down to this. One race would decide it all.

And she was by Charles’s side.

(Y/N) had never imagined returning to the paddock in this capacity, not just as Carlos's sister or a writer finding inspiration but as Charles’s girlfriend. Officially. Publicly.

Speculations about their relationship had swirled for months, fueled by cryptic sightings and fleeting moments caught by eagle-eyed fans. But today, there was no hiding. She was there for him, fully and unapologetically.

Charles needed her, and that was all that mattered.

The media frenzy had already begun the moment they stepped off the private jet. Camera flashes exploded, reporters clamored for interviews, and whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire. The speculations that had brewed for months were finally confirmed.

She had never seen Charles quite like this — his usual composure strained by the weight of what lay ahead. Yet, even amidst the chaos, he never let go of her.

(Y/N) stood beside him, her fingers intertwined with his as they walked toward the Ferrari motorhome. Despite the sweltering heat, a chill prickled her skin. His grip on her hand tightened, grounding her amidst the chaos of media day. Journalists swarmed, microphones thrust forward like weapons, but Charles navigated it all with a grace honed over years in the spotlight.

“Charles, how are you handling the pressure of this championship-deciding race?” one reporter asked, voice sharp with urgency.

He smiled faintly, though tension lingered in the corners of his eyes. “It’s a privilege to be in this position. I trust the team, and I’m ready to give it everything.”

During media day, (Y/N) stayed close, offering quiet support as Charles navigated interviews and press obligations. His calm demeanor masked the storm of emotions she knew raged beneath the surface, but every now and then, his thumb would brush over her knuckles, grounding himself through her presence.

At one point, a journalist asked him about the championship pressure and his life off-track blending with his career.

“And what about your personal life? There’s been speculation—”

The reporter’s question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Charles's eyes flicked to (Y/N), who stood trying to blend into the background. But there was no hiding from the attention today. Charles' gaze softened despite the tension etched into his features. “I’m lucky to have the love of my life by my side on this journey,” he said simply, his voice steady but filled with unspoken emotion.

The words lingered in the air, shimmering with significance. She knew then that no matter the outcome of this race, their story had already reached a place of triumph.

The statement echoed in her mind, leaving her breathless.

Love of his life.

Her heart fluttered, warmth spreading through her chest. Despite the nerves gnawing at her, Charles’s unwavering confidence in their relationship steadied her.

As they moved through the rest of the media obligations, (Y/N) remained by his side, offering quiet support. As they walked back toward the Ferrari motorhome, a figure caught her eye—Max Verstappen, standing by the Red Bull garage. He glanced their way, his expression unreadable, but there was no animosity, no lingering resentment.

It was strange how time had softened the edges of their shared past. Max had found his own happiness, now a devoted husband and father. And she... she had found something even more precious: peace.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. They had both moved on, and in doing so, had found better versions of themselves.

Charles's hand tightened around her waist, drawing her back to the present. She smiled up at him, grateful for the love they had nurtured, steady and sure.

Later, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose, they found a brief moment of peace. Charles leaned against the railing of the motorhome terrace, the cityscape sprawling behind him.

(Y/N) joined him, their shoulders brushing. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

He exhaled, the weight of the day visible in the slump of his shoulders. “Nervous. But with you here... better.”

She smiled, touched by his honesty. “You’ve got this, Charles. I believe in you.”

He turned to her, eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, amore.”

As the final light faded from the sky, casting the circuit in shadows, (Y/N) felt a sense of calm wash over her. Whatever happened tomorrow, they would face it together.

Race day arrived with a crescendo of anticipation.

The grandstands roared with excitement, a sea of red Ferrari flags waving fervently with a palpable sense of electricity in the air. 

(Y/N) stood with Charles in the moments before he suited up, their pre-race ritual unfolding in quiet intimacy.

His forehead rested against hers, eyes closed as he drew in steadying breaths. The roar of the crowd faded into the background, leaving only the sound of their synchronized breathing.

“No one deserves this more than you, mon cœur,” she whispered, her voice unwavering despite the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re Il Predestinato for a reason. Go show them what you’re made of”

A faint smile curved his lips. “Only if you’re here when I cross the finish line.”

“Always.”

The weight of the moment hung between them, heavy yet charged with possibility.

Charles pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before stepping back, his expression fierce with determination. “For us.”

The race itself was a blur of adrenaline and chaos. Engines roared, tires screeched, and the tension was suffocating. (Y/N) sat with Charles’s family in the Ferrari garage, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Pascale offered her a reassuring smile, but even she couldn’t hide the nerves. Carlos had joined them after a devastating DNF, his attempt to overtake Lewis ending in a dramatic crash that took both drivers out of contention.

“He’s got this,” Carlos said firmly, his presence a steady anchor beside her. “Charles is the best driver on that track.”

(Y/N) nodded, though her heart raced with every lap.

The battle between Charles and Max was relentless, neither giving an inch. Overtakes, defensive maneuvers, and nail-biting near misses kept everyone on edge.

Her breath caught as Charles made a daring move, taking the lead with only a handful of laps remaining. The Ferrari garage erupted into cheers, but she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think until the checkered flag waved.

And then it happened.

Charles crossed the finish line, victorious.

The radio crackled to life, his voice breaking with emotion. “We did it... We did it!”

Tears streamed down (Y/N)’s face as she listened to his overwhelmed gratitude.

“And thank you,” Charles added, voice thick. “Thank you, dolcezza. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Her heart swelled, pride and love intertwining in a way that left her breathless.

"This is your moment. It's all yours, Charlie.” She managed to answer between sobs. "Go claim your victory. I’m so proud of you mon cœur.”

The Ferrari crew spilled onto the track, and she ran with them, Charles’s family and friends close behind. As he parked the car, time seemed to slow.

Charles sat there for a moment, helmet still on, the weight of his achievement sinking in.

For my father. For Jules. For the team. For (Y/N).

He removed his helmet, scanning the crowd until his eyes found her. Everything else faded away.

She reached him just as he climbed out of the car, and without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. Their lips met in a kiss that spoke of triumph, love, and everything they had fought for together.

The cameras captured it all, but neither of them cared.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, tears mingling with her smile.

“Thank you,” he said, voice raw with emotion.

The podium ceremony was a blur of celebration. The Monegasque anthem played as Charles stood on the top step, the championship trophy held high.

He glanced down at (Y/N), his signature wink accompanied by a playful point to the trophy and then to her.

She laughed, heart full, and blew him a kiss.

Charles’s chest swelled with joy, the memory of last year flashing in his mind. How far they had come. How much had changed.

Subtly, his thoughts drifted to the engagement ring hidden in his luggage, a promise waiting to be made.

As the champagne sprayed and the crowd roared, (Y/N) reflected on her journey.

Before Charles, she had been lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. But he had put her back on track, not by leading her but by standing beside her, showing her that love didn’t have to be a battlefield — it could be a haven.

He had taught her to stand on her own again, to rediscover the beauty of life.

And she loved him for it.

Past the finish line, there were only possibilities. And with Charles by her side, she was ready to keep discovering the world — and herself — all over again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N 2: For those who wanted a more concise endings, here is It how things Will have turned out If (Y/N) choose Charles. Now I want him to show mw arround the world and be my personal Monaco guide as well. Also Carlos obliviousness and his realisation are priceless. I thik this ending it's a little more realistic than the Lando's one, if my ex of 8 years left me I would be pretty upset too. I got a little bit carried away and this ended up being longer than what I had initially expected. I had the Lando's version direction clearly in my head so I just put it into words, but I didn't knew what to do with Charles, so I just kept writting untill I was satisfied. Still, I think I like this ending better. What is the one you prefere?

You can check Lando's ending here.

Love You - Xim

Tagglist:

@cmleitora

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 1

Art Donaldson x reader : slow burn friends to lovers

I finally wrote chapter 1, I hope you all enjoy it! I’m excited for this slow burn

You widened your eyes at Patrick’s casual declaration. As his words: ‘Art’s gonna come live with us for a while’ hung in the air, you watched your best friend of ten years destroy a churro like it didn’t matter. Flat No.42 had been your sanctuary for four years with nothing but Patrick’s film commentating disrupting your peace. The two of you had a rhythm. An understanding of how the other lived and wanted to live, a schedule for taking out the recycling that Patrick stubbornly ignored.

You had game nights, movie marathons all without anyone having to third wheel. You weren’t ready to give that up, not even for Art Donaldson a man you’d been acting a fool around since Patrick introduced you.

‘Y/N,’

As usual your face concealed nothing.

‘Be good about this okay? Liam kicked him out to move in with his girlfriend, the least I can do is let him live with us for a while.’

You tried to picture watching tv with Art or looking up from your cereal in the morning to be greeted with his sleepy, cute face and messy curls. It took half a second before Patrick asked why you were smiling and even less for you to force a complexed frown.

‘Okay so when’s he moving in?’

Patrick wiped his sugar dusted hands on his ‘I told ya’ shirt, gaging your reaction with amusement. ‘Today, probably 6.’ So much notice - not that you were surprised the man once woke you up 2 hours before a flight he forgot he’d booked for the two of you.

‘Thanks for the heads up.’

——————————————————————

Forever the most organised member of the fire and ice duo, Art was at your door at 6pm exactly. Patrick opened the door as if it was Christmas Day and Art was Santa himself, you’d seen him smile brightly countless times but he actually glowed around Art. It was sweet, only sometimes sickeningly, and you understood the obsession. Art was the type of person lonely people craved.

‘Have my room, I’ll take the sofabed.’

Art broke away from Patrick’s bear hug to widen his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at Art’s reaction to his friends generous offer. Patrick had a way of being there for his friends in such a way that never made them feel like they owed him. He had always been kind because of who he was, not for any accolades yet it somehow seemed to amaze Art every time.

‘Y/N,’ He turned to look at you, walking over confidently. The two of you had only started hugging in the last month, and usually only at the end of days spent with Patrick. He always hugged Patrick first.

‘Welcome to our piece of shit flat,’ you chuckled, as Art pulled you into a short but sweet hug. It took all of your strength. and did every time, not to pull him even closer to you. He always smelt of strawberry scented shampoo and the occasional cigarette which on anyone else you would have hated, you didn’t smoke, but on Art was heaven.

Art liked his own space, as did you, so for a few hours you let him unpack and relax on his own whilst you caught up on work. It wasn’t until Patrick ransacked his/Art’s room for a tie that the equilibrium of the flat was disturbed. ‘I’ve got a date!’ He exclaimed, ignoring the horror in Art’s face. He’d been on his twentieth push up and hated being watched.

Rushing out the door, using one hand to dress himself and the other to text the girl he was going to be late, Patrick made a lot of noise. You and Art were stood in the living room watching his antics with equal amounts of amusement and judgement. When he finally made it outside, Art watched you lock the door behind him.

‘Lucky girl.’

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was joking.

‘She won’t feel it when he eats all her food as well as his.’

Art smiled at your quip, knowing it was absolutely true, and thought to himself how nice it was going to be to get to know you better.

Chapter 2

Masterlist

[callsignseagull]

all you had to do was stay ✪ part 1

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Summary: Six years ago Jake hit your life like a hurricane. In and out in a matter of weeks. You thought after you get over the disappointment of him leaving without saying a word you’d never think of him again. But then two pink lines change your life forever. Now he’s back and still has no idea that the little girl by your side is his daughter. 

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Not much, honestly. maybe just a little angsty 

A/N: Here’s part one!! I hope you like it! It's a little on the short side but hopefully there'll be more soon :))

feedback is always appreciated :)

series masterlist

You’re sitting at the dining table, scrolling through your emails with one hand while holding your toast in the other. You’ve become a pro at multitasking.

“Mommy? Do you think they have churros at that market Penny is taking me?” Your daughter is munching on a toast of her own, crumbs sticking to her cheeks. 

“I’m sure.” You smile. “And I’m sure if you ask nicely, Penny will get some for you.” 

She grins before taking another bite of her toast and you can’t help but reach over and give her a kiss. You can’t believe how fast she’s growing up. At now five years old, Josie is your entire world. As shocked and scared as you were when you found out about her, she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.   

Turning back to your laptop, you flag the most important mails so you don’t forget to follow up on them later. The time before one of your books releases is always the most stressful, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. You got so lucky. 

You wrote and illustrated your first children’s book while being pregnant with Josie, it gave you something to distract yourself from all the changes you were going through. And then you posted about it online, it went sort of viral and then a publisher reached out to you. The book was an immediate success. It’s been translated in several different languages and they even make stuffed toys and board games based on your characters now.

And now you’re about to release the fifth book in the series. It’s hard to churn one out every year, but you’re scared that if you drop the ball, all you’ve worked for will be ripped from you. You want to give Josie the best life possible, so you work your ass off. 

When both of you are finished with breakfast, you clean up the table and tell Josie to put her shoes on. As you slip into your own shoes, you whistle for Muffin, the four year old poodle mix you adopted from a rescue last year, and he comes trotting around the corner moments later. 

After checking you’ve got everything you lock the front for behind you, hold your free hand out for Josie to take, the other holding Muffin’s leash. Then, the three of you take on the short walk towards the Hard Deck. 

Penny Benjamin has been a life saver these last few years, throughout your pregnancy and beyond. She’s been there for you whenever you needed her, day or night. You don’t know what you would’ve done without her. And now she’s somewhat of a grandma figure for Josie, and she’s probably the hottest grandma ever. Her and Amelia are the closest thing you and Josie have to a family, besides each other.

Today, Penny is taking Josie to a Food Market while you look after the bar for a couple hours. It’s still early and not many people will be there, but you’re glad you can help Penny out while still getting some work done for yourself.

“There’s my favourite little family!” Penny greets, as you enter the Hard Deck, her arms wide and Josie immediately runs towards her and into her arms. 

“Hi Penny! I’m so excited! Are you excited? Do you think they’ll have churros?” Josie rambles with glistening eyes, her dimples on show and for a moment you’re reminded of how much she looks like her father. You manage to push thoughts of him to the back of your mind most days but sometimes you just look at her and all you can see is him. 

You haven’t tried reaching out to him again. You know you should’ve. But it felt wrong sending him a text telling him he’ll be a father. And you doubted that he even wanted to be a father. So you decided you’d spare yourself, and your daughter, the heartache. Josie hasn’t asked about her father much, but when she did you told her that he’s a pilot in the Navy and that he loves her. You never want her to feel like she’s not wanted.  

✩̿✪̿✩̿

Jake knew he’d come back eventually. He just didn’t know it would take him so long. But if he was being honest with himself he knew that if it wasn’t for him being called back to Top Gun for some top secret mission he still wouldn’t have had the guts to come back here. Hell, he’s been living only a few hours north from here for the past couple of years. He easily could’ve made the drive down. But he’d always been good at coming up with excuses. But now he couldn’t. Not when he’s in the same city for the next few months. He’d constantly be looking for you. Seeing you in every face that just slightly resembled yours. He didn’t even know if you still lived in San Diego, though. But going to the Hard Deck seemed like the logical thing to do. Even if you weren’t working there anymore, Penny Benjamin might know where to find you.

As soon as he enters the bar he’s hit with nostalgia. Nothing has changed. He takes a look around and pretends he’s the six years younger version of himself, still naive enough to think that nothing will ever rattle him.

Since it’s still the early afternoon it’s not busy and there seems to be no one behind the bar right now. With a deep sigh he sits down in one of the barstools, then notices someone crouched down behind the bar, looking for something in a cabinet. 

His breath catches in his throat. It can’t be.

He hasn’t seen you in six years, and even though he can’t see your face right now, he knows it’s you. He can feel it. 

Now he really feels like he’s been transported back six years in time. You haven’t noticed him yet and he can’t hold back the words that are going through his head.

“Can you pinch me? Because I can’t believe you’re real. I thought I was dreaming.” He knows it’s a bit of a dick move, throwing his first thing he ever said to you at you now. But maybe you’re not as mad at him as he thinks? What if you don’t even remember him? He hadn’t thought about that. Fuck. 

✩̿✪̿✩̿

You almost hit your head when you spin around towards him.  This can’t be real.

“What are you doing here?” You must look like you’ve seen a ghost, but it honestly feels like that. He looks the same but he doesn’t. He’s filled out more, even though you never thought it possible. And he just looks overall more mature. It suits him. 

“What am I doing here in San Diego or what am I doing here at the Hard Deck?” He tilts his head, a small smile on his face. You don’t grace that with an answer, he knows what you mean. The smile slowly drops from his face, and there’s a seriousness in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to look away. “I was hoping to find you here.”

“Why?”

“I want to apologise.” 

That makes you straighten up. Apologise? After six years? 

“I was an absolute asshole to you and you didn’t deserve that. I was going through a rough time and I took all that out on you. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I just left without saying goodbye. I got called on a mission right after graduation and when I got back I figured you didn’t wanna talk to me ever again.”

His words take your breath away for a moment. Never in a million years did you think you’d get an apology from Jake. 

“I-,” you stop, wringing your hands together. At a loss for words.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He smiles softly. “I’m in town for a while. Maybe we could … I don’t know … hang out sometime? Catch up?”

As much as you want to protect your heart and tell him no, you know you have to catch him up on what happened after he left. It’s not right to keep him in the dark now that he’s here. You know that.

“You don’t have to answer me now. Take some time to think about it. I’m sure you’re busy, with your books being such a success. And you’re still working at the bar?” He looks curious and you’re a little shocked.

“I’m just helping Penny out for a couple hours. You know about my books?”

“My nieces love them.” He grins. “I have to read them to them before bed every time I’ve got time to visit them down in Texas.”

“You’ve got nieces?” 

“Yeah, they’re two and four. Love them to death. My Mom’s been begging for grandkids for years and she’s so happy to dote on them every chance she gets.”

Your heart constricts. Two and four. They’re younger than Josie. Not only does she have cousins somewhere in Texas, she’s also the first grandchild to a woman who’s never met her. Who doesn’t even know about her. But you don’t know much about Jake’s parents. Maybe she wouldn’t be the biggest fan of a child out of wedlock. 

You glance at Jakes hand. No ring. 

You muster up the courage to your next question. You know the answer might hurt, but you have to ask him.

“Any kids of your own?” 

Jake shakes his head with a laugh, “No, not that I know of.” 

It’s just a joke but you feel like it makes your heart stop before it starts beating rapidly in your chest. This is it. There’s no better moment than now. Just get it over with.

“Jake, I-“ 

“Mommy!” Josie comes barreling through the door, Penny a few steps behind her. “Penny let me have Churros and they were delicious!” She wraps her arms around you and looks up at you with her sparkling green eyes.

Maybe you don’t even have to tell him. You glance at Jake and he looks a bit taken aback.

“Yeah, honey? Did you have fun?”

“So much fun!” She grins, showing off her deep dimples, and you run a hand over her head before giving her a kiss. You manage to look at Penny, who’s glaring at Jake. It takes all your courage to look at him. He doesn’t even seem to notice Penny, his eyes focused on the girl in your arms. You can’t read the expression on his face, has he already realised how much she looks like him? 

“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask you if you have any.” He smiles, his lips tight, then looks at your daughter and his smile turns more genuine. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Hearing the term of endearment again makes goosebumps raise on your skin. 

“Josie.” She’s not a shy kid, so you’re not surprised when she looks at him curiously and asks, “Who are you?” 

Your grip tightens around her but before you can say anything he replies, “I’m an old friend of your Mom.” 

You shoot him a really? look but he just shrugs his shoulders. Well, you guess it is inappropriate to tell your five-year-old daughter that he used to fuck your brains out. 

“Thanks for helping out.” Penny says, “Both of you.” She winks at Josie. 

Muffin comes trotting around the corner and Josie let’s go of you to throw her arms around the poodle mix. “I missed you!” While Muffin covers your daughter’s face in slobber, Jake huffs out a laugh. 

“A dog, too, huh?” 

You shrug your shoulders, not sure what to say to that. 

“Does the house have a picket fence?” It’s a bit of a loaded question, you think, but you don’t read too much into it and reply truthfully, thinking about the little house you put a down payment on a couple years ago. 

“It does.” 

Jake rubs his chest and gives you that tight lipped smile again. “I’m happy for you.” 

He means it, you can tell. “Thanks, Jake.”

He gets up from his seat at the bar, knocks on the wood a couple times then says. “Your husband is one lucky guy.” Another tight lipped smile.

“My wha-?” 

“I’ll see you around.” He nods then turns on his heel and before you can comprehend what just happened he’s gone.

“Mommy, why did he say your husband? You don’t have one of those.” 

“I don’t know, honey.” 

You watch him cross the parking lot to his car and it dawns on you that he thinks that all your dreams came true:  become a full time illustrator, fall in love, get married, adopt a dog, buy a little house, have kids.

Little does he know that you fell in love with him, had his kid, and did all of the rest on your own. 

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[writingwisterias]

Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Words: 2.1k Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Slight angst, Implied PTSD Summary: Autumnal fun at the carnival with your boyfriend Leon

You had spent most of the week trying to persuade Leon to take you to the autumnal fair that landed in your town, normally he was away doing whatever the government needed him to do, you guessed all the mad scientists like the irony of doing it around Halloween. But this year was different he was finally home and you bet you were going to show him all the things he missed every year. "So where do you want to start?" you asked him, your arm was looped through his as you led him through the beautifully decorated archway. The smell of pumpkin spice filled your senses the further you both walked into the fairground, children laughing, flashing lights from all of the rides you could tell were beginning to take a toll on Leon so you softly squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to you. "Wherever you think is best Sweetheart" Leon replied a large smile plastered on his face. You knew he was reluctant to come here but now he was seeing the autumnal lights dance in your eyes as you stared at them in adoration, an image that would definitely become a core memory, he knew he had made the right decision. "Maybe we can start at the back and work our way to the front? But first dinner!" You suggested. Leon chuckled as you didn't wait for his answer instead you began dragging him off to the many food stalls.

Leon looked down at the churros in your hands and two coffee cups in the other as you walked back over to where he was leaning against a hay barrel wall, yet another cheesy grin on your face as you handed him his items. "I thought you were getting dinner?" he laughed as he accepted the sugared treat, savouring the taste of the cinnamon sugar as he took his first bite. "Yeah this is dinner" you giggled, he couldn't resist leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss - a literal sweet kiss as he collected every bit of sugar that had stuck on your lips. "You ruined my challenge" you jokingly whined at him. "What challenge?" He spoke, confusion littered over his face. "The one where you can't lick the sugar off your lips until you finished the food, but now you licked it all off," you said. Leon chuckled as he admired your smile, this was your element; he loved your cute little outfit with the pleated skirt and fluffy socks covered with the oversized cardigan. "You were already sweet enough, you didn't need any more sugar" he grumbled, pulling you into his side. You sink into the warmth of his jacket, a small indication to the man that by the end of the night you might attempt to steal it from him, leaving him exposed to the evening chill. Though he supposed he's endured worse and for you he would endure anything if it meant to keep that smile. "You are so cringe sometimes" you scoffed as you looked up at him, only to be shocked at his face finally relaxed. Leon chuckled before taking a sip of his drink, savouring the warmth until the taste of pumpkin spice began to form in his mouth. You watched as his face cringed as he tried to work out if he actually enjoyed the taste or not. You chuckled as you sipped enjoying your own, watching him as he eventually gave in and accepted the weird aftertaste. "Aren't you glad you tried this?" You chuckled as you watched his face cringe yet again at the taste. "Absolutely fucking not," Leon grumbled as he looked down at you, his words causing you to chuckle.

Instead of Leon peering at every dark corner watching for anything to take you away from him or anything else that would break this comforting bubble you had formed around him this evening; he was looking at all the families and listening to the children laughing as they picked the giant stuffed toy their parents had won for them at the many booths of games (silently making a promise to attempt to win the extra large bear he had spotted at the tin can shooting booth). Leon observed the many couples sitting in the Ferris wheel smiling at each other as they finally reached the top, smiling at the silently as he created another promise to finish the night off there as he created a mini bucket list in his head. He never thought he would experience this, never thought he deserved to be able to sit and enjoy the small things the world had to offer each season. Often wondered why you stayed when he couldn't make any promises of always being there or why you constantly made sure he experienced the smaller things in life. But now he was here, he understood all that he had missed since he had been in training and was sent on mission after mission. You always assured him that you did these things because you loved him and always thought that he deserved happiness too, to experience the things he fought so hard to protect without him even knowing. He felt your hand grab him squeezing it yet again, grounding him as you then began to lead him further into the festivities.

"We are not doing this" he grumbled as he stared at the horror house. "Come on, it won't be that bad" you pleaded, dragging him into the line without allowing him to protest further. And yet again he was surprised by how much he enjoyed it, he wasn't scared; He wouldn't be after having faced things far worse than the actor who crawled at your feet as you entered the room. However, he wasn't enjoying it because of the actors - no he was enjoying it because of you getting scared, even going as far as to belly laugh at your high-pitched screams or the way you would jump back into him. Leon would be lying if he said his heart didn't swelled with pride knowing that your safety beacon instantly found him as you got constantly scared. Grinning at the feeling of your timid frame hiding behind him as he walked through each entrance first. You were shaking by the time you had left the haunted maze yet a large grin was still plastered on your face with evidence of your enjoyment. You hadn't even had the chance to cool down until the worst scare came. Your hand gripped Leon's arm tightly as you began flinching away with a scream as the man crept up behind you. Your reaction caused Leon to stiffen having also missed the man creeping up behind you both. A cold sweat washed over him as he turned to face whatever threat, his body automatically choosing his fight response instead of his flight.

The scare actor soon backed off after being faced with Leon's death stare, his eyes turning dark as he watched the man retreat to his spot. "I thought you said it wasn't that bad" he muttered a poor attempt at a joke as he turned to face you, enclosing his arms around you not only to calm you but himself. "Well, I didn't expect that last one" You meekly responded as your heart rate finally slowed down. "Probably wasn't my best idea- but at least we did it first. We can try to win a prize now as we calm down" You spoke, a soft smile placed on your lips as you looked at him, your hand gently guided his face back to yours as you worried that you had ruined the evening with the scare house. Leon's eyes finally met yours, and you could see the fear that lingered in his eyes - he also didn't expect the last scare and his body was now still calming down as he looked at you. He gave you a quick kiss before dragging you towards the booth where the large teddy bear was located.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think the maze would trigger us both like that" you apologised, Leon hadn't said anything as he guided you through the crowd of people obviously lost in his thoughts. Guilt had been eating at you alive as you didn't even think to consider what the maze could have done to trigger anything he had yet to tell you about. Leon's shoulders sagged as he stopped turning to look at you again, he forced a smile onto his features as he looked down at you. "Don't worry about it, we both didn't expect the last actor. It's not your fault" he said giving you another tight-lipped smile. He wasn't mad at you, no he was worried at how quickly the protective side of him came out, worried that you would now be afraid to go outside with him as he flipped like a switch. "Leon, I'm not worried." your angelic voice called out to him, breaking him from his trance of overthinking. "I understand, you were just keeping me safe, I'm not mad," you said squeezing his hand, the action yet again grounding him. Something so small and familiar continuously brings him back to you, like a tug on a soulmate bond.

Leon swore your grin would be engraved in his brain until the day he died when you were handed the large bear he had spent the last 30mins obtaining for you. He watched with a large smile as you flung it around with you, hugging it tightly. "I think this will be a good replacement for when you go away. You've just got to cuddle with it for a few days so it smells like you" You joked as you walked alongside him, still clutching the oversized bear which was now swung over your back. Leon's smile grew at your words, he wondered if anyone has died thinking their partner was so fucking cute. "You are so cute" he chuckled bringing you in close to his side as you both walked towards the Ferris wheel.

The line wasn't very long as most of the families had left. The night chill was in full force as you held yourself as close to Leon who was now holding your teddy. His jacket just looked so warm, so cosy with the fur decorated around the edges. Leon looked down at you as he felt your hands begin to slide around his waist in an attempt to gain some warmth from his jacket. "I thought you wouldn't get cold without a jacket" he teased. "Well...it's not my fault you have the ultimate jacket" you retorted, still trying to worm your way even closer to him. It wouldn't surprise Leon if you tried to slip your arms in and wear the jacket with him at this point. He attempted to pry you away from his body, holding the bear for you to koala on instead as he shrugged his jacket off. Shivering slightly as his body was met with the chilly breeze, it was nothing like the cold wet rain he had run around in whilst he was in Spain. You practically moaned as he draped the jacket around you, the fabric swallowing you in his scent and warmth. You were both soon ushered onto the Ferris wheel, you cuddled close to him as the wheel began to move. When you finally made it to the top you felt him relax, you watched as he sunk back into the cold chair, holding you close to him as he took in the view of your home town. To you it was a pretty sight, to him it was a reminder of all the homes that he fought to keep safe, to prevent the things he had seen filter back to his home. "I'm proud of you Leon...for fighting so all of these people can be safe. For doing it without even a thank you" You whispered. You felt his arm tighten around you, you didn't expect him to reply but you knew he always listened to it, and appreciated your small reminders of how much he did for the world despite how horrible it was to him. "I love you" You whispered again before bringing his lips to meet yours, savouring the kiss before you felt the Ferris wheel begin its descent.

"I hope you had a good time" You spoke as you walked back to the car, a large bucket of cotton candy in your arms as he carried the comically large bear. Leon smiled, looking back at the retreating glowing lights. "I did, thank you- for bringing me here" he smiled. "Well you have to make sure you buckle up the bear, he's got to stay safe," You said as you got into your side of the car, his rock music filtering through the radio. Leon chuckled as he made sure the bear was strapped in safely. His hand laid on your knee once he had started to drive off, chuckling as you laid your head on the window and began to sleep on the way home. He wouldn't change anything of this for the world. 

[insanely-lovely-and-random]

Alrightyy saw Challengers for numero uno tonight and these are some thoughts/things that really got me the second time round!

*Thess are just my opinions the film can be read however anyone else wants

Okay so hear me out.. Tashi is such a dom, Art is such a sub and Patrick is such a switch and oooh it got me how at the beginning it felt like he was Arts dom, then he finds this girl he thinks is fantastic and maybe he thinks she could be the glue to bring him and Art and her all together BUT then it totally fricken backfires and instead he loses both. Art the little puppy he is starts wagging his tail in Zendayas direction and next thing ya know he's got a new owner and Patricks a thing of the past much to his palable distress. I mean christ boyos living in his car and starving, boys a mess since his lost his dom and sub poor boyo, so now various things I noticed some of which I feel back up my argument haha

Gosh theres so many little moments, Patricks thing for Art seems so obvious yet Art seems totally clueless.

1) Patrick is defos bi, not just because he just so is but also cause he matches with a guy on his dating app during his swiping.

2) The doubles match they play in the past? Gosh they're all over eachother! And Pats clearly in charge of that relationship and Art seems totally cool with that (for then anyways..)

3) When him and Art are watching Tashis game at the vert beginning Patrick grabs Arts leg in exhilaration. I mean he always seems to be touching or in the space of his boy for christs sake.

4) When Tashi mentions the fact Arts going to Stamford Patrick noticeably makes a face, you could say its because shes paying attention to Art instead of him or that hes upset because shes going to college instead of going profesh BUT I really didnt read it that way. To me it looked like he was upset Art was going to college, they've been together for years after all and now their splitting up, poor boyo.

5) When Zendaya asks if theres anything going on between then, Art laughs and says no BUT Patrick??? Science and he looks down, hell he wishes there was summat.

6) He taught Art to jerk off. Fucking hell.

7) There kiss man, all three of then and then just Art and Pat, just soo much chemistry.

8) When he reveals he slwpt with Zendaya to Art, and Arts smile drops. I think he's heartbroke at him sleeping with the girl he likes but I also see it as pain at being left out. These two people he's entwined with and now he's outside looking in. I also think If Patrick had seen that reaction he'd have seen a looot sooner that his relationship with Tashi might backfire greatly.

9) Patrick vsiting Stamford, first person he goes to see, his girlfriend maybe..? NOPE hes too busy chasing Art around the tennis court 😭

10) There's a ton of hot moments in this film. And the hottest? To me? That bloody stool grab with his foot. He wants Art close, he always bloody does! And the churros christ! And once again showing Art who's top so to speak, eating his churro, and telling him hes proud of his snakey behaviour. And that it makes his relationship with Zendaya hotter (I bloody bet it does) He never ever seems to show jealousy about Arts feelings for Zendaya, he points out thay he doesn't see him as competition to her not long after and I BET his doesn't. Cause I think he'd love it if Art was with him and Zendaya.

11) My God this bit gets be cause it gets echoed later. Him and Zendaya are making out and this girl who he's with and cares about is just talking bout his tennis game. And tbf what does he say?? "Weren't you gonna tell me bout Art" hells bells could you be more obvious?? And then the fight, he asks her if she's talking about tennis and her reply "I'm always talking about tennis" and I mention this cause it's gonna be relevant later.

12) The injury happens and everyone loses something. Zendaya has lost her career and ability to play tennis to her full potential. Art loses his best friend and Poor pathetic Patrick lost his bestfriend(and secret love) and his actual girlfriend all in one day!

From here on I cant guarantee my numbered points are in timeline order as the timline stated getting more out of sequence🤣

13) Zendaya and Art in the diner and after hearing Art and Pat dont talk no more saying she's a homewrecker after all. And what does Art say?? Zip. Nada. No denial just silence.

14) Okay lets talk that sauna scene. It was gloriously tragic. Patrick is clearly unaware why Art is THAT hostile towards him. I mean thinking of it from his point of view he'd have more reason to be angry considering the snakey girlfriend behaviour. But he never is angry at Art, not once no matter what he did. Of course we then discover Art is SO pissed cause he knows about Atlanta. Christ I bet pur stupid idiot boy Patrick thinks hes just being cleverly smug with that "when we were teenagers" line but idiot boyo your rubbing salt in the wounds 😭

15) still about the sauna, the naked trying to be top dog like old times but no no no, not anymore. Arts not his to be in charge of anymore. And the camera shows Art as higher while Patrick slouches nearby. Patrick asks him when he's so mad but doesn't get an answer. This scene was tragic to me, Patrick just seems hurt by Arts attitude. Art points out that they're no longer peers and I love this because thats the difference between the Zendaya/boys relationship and Arts and Pats. Pat may have been the dom so to speak with Art but he still saw them as peers. Zendaya doesn't. Thats the main difference in their relationships. Respect.

16) One of my fave damn parts of dialogue in the movie. (I really can't remember exact phrasing but this is how I rememeber it) Art is so sus of Pat, Pat asks him if he misses it, Art says he doesnt. And when Pat says he wasn't talking about tennis, Art says "Your always talking to me about tennis" and oof the punch to my gut that was. And it seemed to Patricks too! His face, this poor boy has twice been talking to the people he cares about, abou their relationship and they just say their talking about tennis, he cant catch a break😭

17) Pats reaction to Zendaya asking him to throw the game, is he offended for himself? Nopeee he's mad that she'd do that to Art. He says something along the lines of fucking him was one thing but to have Arts victory be a lie?? Gross, too far, too much of a betrayal.

18) For the third time, having just fucked Zendaya in the car and she just immediately brings up him throwing the match, like crimeny man this boy is probs sick of this game getting in the way of his relationships haha

19) Ooh that match point is glorious glorious cinema my friends. Patrick is so interesting in this whole match. Him deliberating on if he's gonna tell Art? So juicy and the way he did was fucking hilarious. That unspoken signal? Beauty.

20) Arts reaction? Wow oh wowww. The lad went through the five fricken stages of grief! The denial "fuck off!" the rage, throwing his racket, the bargaining, looking at Zendaya as if to say its not true (when she has no fucking clue what just happened). The depression, those sad sweaty tears 🥲 and then? That gorgeous smile, that acceptance. I think he felt catharsis, his marraige was clearly dysfunctional at this point and maybe knowing she cheated, knowing she'd threatened to leave if he lost, maybe that helped him let go of it. Ripped off the bandage, turned off life support, finally shake the pedestal he'd put his wife on( he compared her to jesus for christs sake). He made it through to the otherside and Patrick was there waiting for him with open arms ()iterally lol)

21) When Pat sees Arts smile? His own blossoms, clearly in relief and exaltation. I truly think he told him not to throw his game but to spur Art on. To finally unlock his potential. And to get the old Art he knew back and it bloody worked. That final back and forth, the pure energy, those sexual grunts all building up to a crescendo of a climax. Hooo boy

22) That goddamn brilliant leap in the air. Art is freed and flying, and Patrick doesn't hesitate he flings his racket to the floor because the thing that mattered to him most was never tennis. And he catches his boy with arms wide and then that embrace. They have finally come back together. It was beautiful. What does losing the match matter to Pat when he finally has his arms all over Art again just like he did in the beginning. We have come full circle.

Hahaha this is purely my own read into the movie and obvs mostly about the Patrick character and how I saw his actions. Now a few little bonus notes I noticed.

Nearly everything the boys eat/drink seems phallic, hotdogs, bananas, churros, even those drink bottles and cigarettes. Boyos are obsessed!

Zendaya on the rock at the beach was very little mermaid. Also in that scene when she said she wouldn't wanna get between em. Art said they didn't love together but Pat says "It's an open relationship" hecks you too obvious boy.

This movies so chock full of foreshadowing too, the story about Cat who got injured a week later. Patrick at Tashis party saying she'd have deals and a foundation which she does but via her relationship with Art instead just really cool script tbh

(Will probs add more when I remember em/see it for third time cause I am planning on that🤣🤣)

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Rain/Payu) 1

Because I'm petty, I had the crowd pick which blacklisted shows I would watch for the month of Pride. I had planned to space them out more, but due to wacky weather over here (tornadoes, thunderstorms, softball-sized hail, and flash flooding), I had plenty of time to binge watch the first show, Love in the Air, which perfectly aligns with my real life theme of stormy weather, so I'm posting my random thoughts in five parts, two for each couple and the special episode.

I'm seated, I'm watching, and I'm being petty.

It starts at "2:00 AM" - Oh no. Nothing could happens at 2 in the morning, and the time just keeps going. This event isn't even going to begin until 3 AM?! Take me home, NOW! I don't care how fine these men are. I'm stopping for mini churros at Jack in the Box on the way home and going to bed. I'M OUT!

I've seen plenty of pictures of Boss in the past two years, but I still lost my breath a bit when he took off his mask because he was looking delicious in the rain.

RAIN WANTS A GIRL?!

Out of everything I saw about this show, NOBODY mentioned that Rain was trying to get a girl. I'm shook. That's a huge part of the plot I never saw mentioned. There were rumors of the actor (Noeul) being with Milk (of MilkLove), and I saw more of THAT in connection to this show than about him liking a girl within it. Where are y'alls priorities?! *looks at Tonnam and breathes deeply*

Payu's room is IN the garage? But what about the fumes? What about the noise? What about a good work/life balance?!

😬😬😬

I don't care if this boy is snuggling in his sleep, Payu is on my shit list! Instead of being like "oh, I misunderstood the signals," he pushed harder then got upset. Even if Rain secretly does want him, I need a verbalization. This is the end of the first episode, and I'm mad as hell at a bisexual on the first day of Pride. Damn.

Start of episode two and I know Rain's voiceovers are there to make me not be upset at Payu, but . . . I'm pissed at this man! He did all of that work, said it was free, but now there is "another" charge, then he shows up at this boy's school when he could've just talked to him at the shop, and feels him up in the bathroom stall. I am BIG mad!

I will admit, this is hot. Still very mad at my fellow bisexual for him saying he wasn't trying to force himself on Rain (even though he was about to mark a map on that boy's neck), but they got chemistry.

My fellow Slut for Christ, only God can judge you, but know that I am too.

All racetracks look the same so Pit Babe and Cutie Pie could have been filmed here for all I know, but I have this at 1.5 speed, unmuted, so I hear this is a legit hype rap song. WEARETHEGOOD's "Threat" with these colors?! Energy? Matched.

HE IS SPANKING HIM?!

I don't kink shame but both people should be willing participants in this endeavor. Then just to drop him on the floor like that?! That does not inspire trust! This is not Blue Boy behavior, sir! But this lecture after is. That is what I need from you. Remind him that this isn't some petty school shit but actual gangstas he is messing with. Remind him that he can't be reckless. THAT'S HOW BLUE BOYS GET KISSED!

Now it's a competition? Payu wants to fuck Rain so badly he looks stupid, yet Rain is over here saying he is going to make Payu want to fuck him, what? harder? What is this all about?!

What do you mean you didn't want to show Rain your bad side? Has all this been your good side up until this point?! Cause, dead ass, this side ain't looking that great either with you being upset you weren't sleeping with him on the first night and stalking him. So you're going to get worse?

Y'all can't sucker me in with red and blue colors. I Told Sunset About You tried that, and I'm still being petty about it. But whose house are we at now?! This is a different room than before. Payu got multiple places?! In this economy?

Prapai strolling in all happy because he had a good night . . . Sir, I'll get to your ass soon because I know how you got that happiness, and you are on the same shit list as your fellow bisexual bestie.

I am Sky and our judgement cannot be measured.

TWINS?!

All this blue between these two yet they are straight up lyin' every two seconds. The fuckery.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!

I would've let him turn it in, but I appreciate that he looks so good while looking so sad with that warm glow.

Payu gets one positive point for leaving his arms open for Rain to come to him, but now that warm glow feels sus like maybe I should be paying more attention to Rain's yellow/orange backpack.

And now for a negative point because even though I keep seeing black x white, Payu stays morally grey by playing with this boy's emotions and hiding from him in his own shop! These after scenes are not doing Payu any favors.

Payu, do I like you? Do I hate you? Do I wanna fuck you? Do I wanna kick you in the balls? All of the above?

Guess I'll find out in the next three episodes.

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 3

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Inés, did you just giggle?”

“No.”

“Inés, I know you, and you just giggled. Who is the lucky one who has managed that?” Carla says. “Maybe the tall guy we met the other night?”

“The one who thought I was a lesbian because I played football?” I snort. 

“What?”

“Men” I shrug.

“That's… nevermind. If it isn't him, then who is it?” she asks again, raising her eyebrows up and down like that Milhouse gif.

“No one.”

“I don't believe you” she says, snatching my phone from my hands before I can hide it in my bag. 

“Carla!” 

“You seriously need to put a password, Inés. What if someone steals your phone and sees all your sexy photos?” she smirks.

“I don't have sexy photos” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Why? You are sexy and… Why is Pedri sending you a photo of him eating churros?”

“It's an inside joke” I say, taking advantage of her shock to get my phone back. Maybe I do need a password on it, but to avoid having her lurking.

“An inside joke? Since when do you have inside jokes with him? And that was WhatsApp, Inés. Not Instagram. I thought you only followed each other there.”

“Not anymore” I say. 

It had happened the day after our churros date or whatever you want to call it. We had spent the night chatting on Instagram, Pedri asking me about how meeting my grandparents had gone, and telling me that his hungover had come back with violence once he had made it home. And the morning after, he had asked me for my number because he liked chatting on WhatsApp better, the “oh my God” I screamed when I saw that message being heard by the whole building. Like I already said, I'm stupid and I like getting my hopes up too fast and too much.

Though it's been a week, and we've been texting daily and very often. Very often. 

“Inés…” Carla sighs. “He has a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because this totally looks like flirting.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Having inside jokes about churros of all things? Texting on WhatsApp? The fact that he has made you giggle?” 

“Carla, we are just friends.”

“No, you aren't. You fancy him, Inés!”

“Who do you fancy?” Aitana says, sitting next to me.

“No one” I quickly say, focusing on tying up my boots to hide the colour of my face.

“Who does she fancy?” she asks Carla.

“Someone she shouldn't.”

“Víctor?”

“What?” Carla and I say at the same time.

Víctor is one of the men's team stars, another young player from the academy like myself who made it to the first team at the same time I did. And since we both also play in the same position, everyone has always joked that we are destined to end up together, himself included. But the thing is, that I can't stand him. I've never have.

As a kid his ego already was too big for someone so young, and now it is even worse. The fact that once the awkward teenage years passed he turned out to be quite hot, girls all over the world being so obsessed with him that it sometimes is scary, hasn't helped. 

“I don't know. Since he is someone she shouldn't fancy and you've always said that you can't stand him…” Aitana shrugs. “We are filming some stuff with the boys after training, by the way. He'll probably be there.”

“Urgh, don't remind me of it” I say. “They'll probably put us together again.”

“They have to give the shippers their monthly content, Inés” Aitana teases me.

“Idiot” I reply, giving her a little push. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry” she laughs. “But you know it's true.”

“Whatever. Let's go training and stop talking about men” I say, standing up.

“Yeah, let's go avoid thinking about the mess we may be getting ourselves into” Carla says behind me before following us. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And Inés, you will be filming a guess who with Víctor.”

“Great” I sigh.

“Did you say anything, Inés?”

“I was just wondering where he is” I quickly say. 

“Were you missing me, my love?” someone says behind me.

“Jesus Christ!” 

“Almost as famous” Víctor laughs. “Looking beautiful today” he smirks, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“Thank you” I reply, moving to be in front of him so he stops touching me. “Where were you? You are late.”

“Is that jealousy, Inés? Are you worried I may be seeing someone else?”

“What?” I laugh.

“You look really cute when you are jealous” he smirks, closing the space between us so he can caress my cheek. But I'm faster, and take a step back just in time to make him miss. 

“I'm not jealous, Víctor.”

“Of course not, my love.”

“I'm not your love either.”

“Yet” he winks. “Anyway, should we start filming this thing? If we finish early we can go grab something to eat… or whatever you fancy.”

“What I fancy, is to go home. Alone” I add when he is about to say another of his stupid flirty sentences.

“Always so harsh, my love.”

“I'm not your… urgh” I groan. Lord, grant me patience, because if he says another my love, I'm gonna end up committing murder.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And now who is calling… me” I say after finally making it home and checking my phone. 

This can't be real. It has to be a mistake. He's trying to call someone else and dialed my number because we had been texting earlier. Or maybe not. Maybe he actually is calling me. Maybe something happened. Maybe he needs my help. Maybe he is in danger! If he is, I should probably answer and stop with my internal dialogue, shouldn't I? Ok, you can do this, Inés.

“Pedri, why are you video calling me? Is everything ok?”

“Hello to you too” he chuckles.

“Hi, sorry. But is everything ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Because my head is about to explode after being in front of my laptop working on an assignment for the past few hours, and I needed a distraction.”

“And I am a distraction?” I laugh.

“You have no idea” Pedri smirks. He… umm… what? “Anyway, are you free? Do you want to go out for a walk? I seriously need to leave my room and have some fresh air.”

“I just made it home, but… Yeah, why not?”

“Great!” he says with a smile that makes me feel all fuzzy inside. “I'll call an Uber and pick you up. See you in a bit, Inés.”

“Bye” I smile back before he hangs up. 

Did I just agree to go out with Pedri? As in some kind of… date? But it is a friends date, of course. Because that's what we are. Just friends. Though one of the friends is completely infatuated with the other, and for the past week may have been dreaming about very steamy cooking dates and other things that involve his churro. But my period just left and the days after I'm horny, ok? Ok.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe that as someone born and raised in Barcelona, I had no idea this place existed.”

“That's because you are a mountain girl, Inés. The sea doesn't call you the same way it calls me, an island boy” Pedri says.

“What?” I laugh, taking the hand he is offering me to help me jump from the rocks we just walked down to make it to the beach. I could very well do it myself, but letting him be a gentleman and help me won't hurt anybody, will it? Unless you ask Carla, of course.

She would probably say that us touching like this would cause a tsunami that would destroy the city. Though maybe the sea starting to boil due to the heat that is going through my body and coming from it right now, would be more likely to happen. Dear Lord, Inés. He's just holding your hand! Stop being so lame and… horny!

“You don't like the sea” Pedri says.

“I do.”

“But not as much as you like the mountain” he says while we walk, still holding hands. “When you have some free time, you always go hiking or for a walk around the woods, you don't come to the beach to have a swim like I do.”

“How do you know that?”

“I've seen it on your Instagram” he smiles. Wait a second… Pedri has been paying attention to what I post? What? And more importantly… why? “You are a mountain girl, and that's ok. Next time you have to take me to one of your favourite spots.”

“Next time?”

“Today I think this is the perfect one for us” he says, putting down the backpack he was carrying and completely ignoring my question, which only means one thing: I will be thinking about it and what he meant with next time for the rest of my life. “Fancy a beer?”

“What?” I say, my brain working again and making me sit down on the sand next to him.

“You can drink beer, can't you? Or is that something you are not allowed to anymore?”

“Oh, no, we can. They just suggest us to not drink too much.”

“I'm not planning on getting you drunk, don't worry” Pedri winks before opening one bottle and passing it to me. How did I manage to take it from his hand and not let it fall after that wink and our fingers touching again? Nobody knows. “So, what should we toast to?” he asks after opening one for himself. “This place?”

“Nah, that's too boring. What about… to getting distracted?”

“I like that. To getting distracted” he says, raising his bottle.

“To getting distracted” I reply, doing the same with mine before drinking. “Urgh, I had forgotten how good this beer is.”

“It is your favourite, isn't it?”

“It is, yes. How do you know? My Instagram again?” I ask with a teasing smile. Wow, Inés. Bold move there.

“No, not this time” he laughs, the sound making me feel funny things on my stomach. “I know it is your favourite because you mentioned it the last time we all went out together after class.”

“How can you remember that? I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday” I chuckle.

“I just do” he shrugs, taking a sip from his beer. 

After that, we both stay in silence, neither of us saying a word while we drink and watch the sun set behind the waves. But it isn't an awkward silence. It is one of the most comfortable and nice ones I've ever experienced. Nice, until the worst thing ever happens.

“Oh my God, Inés!” Pedri laughs while I cover my face with my hands and wish the sand would open and swallow me whole. “What was that noise? A dinosaur?”

“I'm so sorry you had to hear that” I say from behind my hands. “But I haven't eaten anything since before training and…”

“And you are starving. Big time” he laughs again.

“Yeah.”

“Should we go grab something to eat? After hearing that, I'm afraid you may try to eat me.”

“What?” I say, daring to look at him. Which is the biggest mistake ever, because he is: one, smirking, and two, way closer to my face than I had expected him to be.

“Are you going to eat me, Inés?” 

“What?” I repeat with a nervous laugh, my eyes moving from his to his lips. Have I said yet that they are the most kissable lips ever? Kissable, and edible too. 

“I fear you might” he says, closing the space between us a bit more.

“Pedri…” 

“Inés…” he whispers, his face now so close to mine that I've felt him saying my name on my skin. 

He is going to kiss me. He is, isn't he? Why else would he be so close to my face right now? There is no other explanation, is it? He is going to kiss me. He… 

“Inés!” he laughs again when my stomach makes another horrible noise, sending to hell my hopes for that kiss. “C'mon, let's get you some food before you actually eat me.”

“I was about to” I say, speaking before thinking.

“I know” he smirks, getting up from the sand. “But there is a really good restaurant close by, and their food tastes way better than I do.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Uh?”

“Nothing, nothing” I say, quickly standing up. I think I'm so hungry it has started to affect my brain. “Sorry about the dinosaur in my stomach.”

“You don't need to apologize, Inés. I actually am quite hungry too. Shall we?” Pedri says after putting our empty beer bottles back on his backpack. 

“Let's go” I reply, forcing myself to smile and to ignore the fact that we, as in Pedri and yours truly, almost kissed. I think.

[victias]

My take on the letter from tearstone island prompt I've seen so many amazing fics of (if anyone knows who first did this please lmk so i can credit)

My Dearest Lucanis,

If you are reading this I did not return from Tearstone Island, if I am honest I always believed that this job would claim my life and maybe on some level that is why I accepted it, almost two years ago now, gods it seems like a lifetime. But this letter isn’t about me, not really, its about you. 

There is so much I wish I had been brave enough to tell you face to face despite you changing the subject every time I tried, well you cant redirect a dead woman so I’m saying it now and you’ll just have to brood about it ha! My soul has never felt as at peace as it does in your presence, my smile never as big, my laugh never as free, you have made me feel seen in a way that i never thought possible and I need you to know.

I wish I could help you see yourself as I see you, not only handsome but strong, resilient, kind, you use your training not only to spot weaknesses in your targets but to learn about those around you, how Emmrich likes his tea, picking out the perfect cape for Taash, and my churros, rarely do you ever have to ask but when you need to you do without hesitation, always willing to learn, to be there for those around you. You are determined and protective, more times than I can count you have saved my life. You care so deeply  though you try to hide it and give second chances even when people maybe don’t deserve them – yes i mean Illario (seriously watch your back there lest you join me sooner than your time), your witt is so fast and your heart so big. I truly never deserved the attention you gave me, the gentleness in your voice as we spoke and the way your concerned eye, makers breath your beautiful brown eyes, would linger on me when I would say I was fine and you knew I was hiding my pain, you always knew.

And Spite, you have grown so much, learned so much and whilst doing so you never cease to make me laugh. Your confidence in me to help Lucanis when he most needed it touched my heart in a way I can never truly express, to be trusted by a demon is a honour I never expected in this life, just know that it is mutual. I trust you with my life, Spite and more than that I trust you with Lucanis'. You have so much to offer each other despite this situation you were both forced in to and I hope you continue to make deal after deal until you find that perfect harmony. I am sorry I won’t be there to see it.

There is so much more I wish I could write, but we leave soon and I don’t have the time. Know that I love you. That the time we have spent together, reading, drinking coffee, holding hand, sharpening knives, me ‘helping' you cook, the simplest of things, have been the happiest of my life and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I love you, always

‘Rook’

PS. A first kiss, I think, would have tasted like coffee and cinnamon, not honey and lavender cream.

[damnyoureyes-weasley]

This. Is. Cinema.

On the surface it's 2 guys a girl and a whole lotta horny tennis.

However, every single shot is curated to perfection.

It seems the movie is centered around this one match in New Rochelle and how our characters got to this point.

Over the course of 13 years we see failure, flirtation, lust, jealousy, trickery, obsession, pining and an intense rivalry. This all culminates into 2 ¼ hours of tension, techno and tennis.

The soundtrack adds a hyperventilative (which I'm aware isn't a word but should be 💀) layer to scenes that would not normally do so. A simple scene at a table turns into a 'holding your breath. Will they won't they' moment with the loud aggresive techo playing over the simple conversation.

All the tennis games are tense but the main one had me on the edge of my seat each time we came back to it. Also it's obvious but I appreciated the nod to the main tennis match being a representation of their tumultuous history.

Each of the three main characters feel so human that you can't just say "well they're the villain of this story and the reason all these bad things happened" bc they all fuck up and none of them are definitively villians or victims.

I noticed immediately that Patrick towers and invades people's spaces consistently throughout the 13 years. He's childish, immature, cheeky, stubborn, condescending and arrogant. There's also a vulnerability there. I think he's genuinely in love with Art ig only at first and 'who wouldn't be'

Art is sly, cunning, very insecure and softer as a person. Whether he was always like this or Patrick's intimidating, towering nature backed him into a corner slightly we'll never know but from the moment we meet them he's always second. Second to speak with Tashi, to sit on the bed. He gets shouted over a lot by Patrick but I think that makes us feel sorry for Art which allows his trickery to pass under our nose and us to underestimate him.

Tashi is obsessive, controlling, demanding and stubborn but also sweet and shows concern. I, however, think she never loved either of them, we knew this with Patrick but I think she lived vicariously through Arts career and cared for Art but never deeply loved him. Tashi and Patrick would not work in any universe because they're both too stubborn and they're both leaders, we see the fault of this pairing in the dorm before Tashi's match.

I won't pretend to be some film snob who only looks at the nuances and won't shamelessly say that this film was hot beacuse it was, incredibly so. The churros for Christ's sakes.

This film exceeded my already high expectations and I will say somethings potentially fishy about Lilys parentage just saying 🫢

To round this review off, I quote my favourite review, I've read "The tennis is about sex and the sex is about tennis"

[footballerimaginess]

Fluff Alphabet | Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone! Here is a a fluff alphabet with Joao Felix, hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think of it. Word Count: 1,347 ADVENT CALENDAR - You and Joao were like little children and had to get advent calendar's each year, each year you'd get chocolate but this year Joao made you a book calendar and he wrapped them all up and left them out in the mornings for you to collect. It was the cutest thing anyone had ever done for you.

BAKING - There were so many new recipes that you wanted to try, there were just so many you'd seen on TikTok that you wanted to make and you knew you had so much time and were ready to prepare some sweet treats for Christmas. CHRISTMAS DAY - As this season you were back in Spain, you were so excited to be celebrating in Spain with his family coming over and you were just so excited to be with everyone DECORATIONS - "There are just so many decorations here, why do you need even more?" he asked as you shook your head. "I dunno, I am obsessed with just picking up new decorations. They are cute right?" you showed him as you took the new sparkly lights in the box. "I guess, but we don't need anymore" he moaned again. EMOTIONAL - When Joao handed you your presents, you were feeling extra emotional. "This is for you" he smiled as he sat down beside you as he watched you pulling the ribbon off of the box. "Shit is this what I think it is" you muttered as you opened it up and it was the bag you had dreamed of for years. FOOD - "We just have so much food" you laughed as you plated up. "It all looks so good" you grinned as you watched as everyone played up. Smiling away as you were just so proud of how you had achieved so much in one morning. GENEROUS - You were just so generous at Christmas and had to buy so many gifts and never stuck with the spending limit. Christmas was one time of the year where you had to really treat everyone. HOT CHOCOLATE - You and Joao were snuggled up on the sofa together as you were sipping on your hot chocolates that you had just made. Laying under the blanket as you were watching Christmas films. ICE SKATING - One of your traditions is going ice skating with Joao. Despite the both of you being absolutely shocking, you still loved going yet embarrassing yourself was a talent in itself. JOY - Seeing your family all together at this time of the year was just so joyful and it was always the most amazing get together's. KITCHEN - The kitchen was a complete mess, there was just so much stuff around, where you hadn't cleaned up at all. "How can one person make this much of a mess when you are only cooking for two people?!?" you turned around as you looked at the mess. "I know it is crazy, I just kept picking up dishes and making stuff" you laughed. "I suppose you'll have to be helping me" you smirked. "Hmm, don't think so LOVE - You and Joao were so in love, this year was the first proper year where you had time to relax and just enjoy Christmas whilst you were resting and taking it easy. MARKETS - "Ooh look at those churros, can we get those?" you asked Joao as you pointed to the stand. "yes sure, but what else do you want? because that smells so good" you muttered. "Fine let's go and see what else we can get. Everything looks and smells so nice" he grinned.

NORTH POLE - You and Joao were going to Lapland, you had hinted at wanting to go for ages now. "This is so magical, but my god it is sooo cold" you shivered as you felt like you were just so cold and had no way of warming up as you grabbed his hand as tightly as you possibly could. "I feel like this is what it would be like if we went to the north pole" you let out a laugh and immediately regretted it as it was just so cold you were frozen. OUTFIT - Your Christmas outfit just needs to be comfy, it was all about your comfy clothes at this time especially as you were eating so much yummy food.

PRESENTS - The amount of presents underneath Christmas were crazy considering there were only a handful of you here for Christmas. "This is madness babe, think we went overboard" you smirked. "Nope, never" you giggled. QUEUE - The queues for the shops were just insane, all you wanted was a last few minute Christmas presents and you had been standing here for about 35 minutes now and you couldn't wait any longer. But it was slowly worth it. REINDEER - "What are all the reindeers called?" Joao asked as you were watching it on the tv. "Rudolph, prancer that is all i can remember" you laughed as you grabbed your phone and decided to google the reindeer's names. "I, Vixen and Cupid" you told him. "There are 9 but I could have sworn there was way more than that" you laughed as you showed all of the names. "There was no way I was going to remember all of that" you laughed. SNOW - A white Christmas is all that you wanted, you were just so happy and it was just so incredible. "Wow J, look how beautiful it looks. I have never seen snow at Christmas time, it is just so beautiful" you whispered as you watched the large snowflakes falling down as it hit the window. TINSEL - "What is this?" you turned around and saw Joao holding tinsel in his hand. "Tinsel?" you looked at him confused as you knew he had seen it before. "You know what it is right?" you asked as you turned to face him. "Yes but what is the purpose of it?" you shrugged as you didn't know yourself. "I dunno, just decoration. It always makes me think of my Nan so that is why I have to have some in the house" you smiled as Joao nodded, knowing how much she meant to you. UP (couldn't think of anything lol) - One of your favourite things to do was watch dinsey movies at Christmas. Your choice of film this year was UP, it was one of your absolute favourites and I just couldn't wait to watch it. Joao would moan because you never ever picked his favourite film which annoyed him, but this time it was your choice. VOICE - You hated singing and wasn't going to even attempt to sing, but Joao loved singing even though he always told you that he hated his singing voice. But you'd always catch him singing a Christmas song or two. WINTER WONDERLAND - When you were in London with Joao, you really loved going to winter wonderland. So when Joao had a break for a few days, you headed to London so you could go to winter wonderland. "This is so much fun, I am just glad we could do this again. Feels weird that we were in London for only one season, I miss being here" you replied as you walked around. "Course I miss it too, shame it didn't work out for us" he shrugged. Xxx - Christmas was the best time to be with family and you were so excited to have your own family one day and make Christmas even more special. YOU - You and Joao were so happy this Christmas, it felt different. Last year was completely different from being in England for the first time. You were excited to do something different but this time you felt so content with life and was so excited for the year. Zzz - Christmas was so hectic that all you wanted to do was sleep, you had to have a small little nap on the sofa whilst Joao sorted all his presents out because he had to get rid off all the boxes straight away. You just napped your Christmas away.

[batchilla]

Most Married Divorced couple timeline and other fun stuff.

This post will be updated as it needs to be updated.

I recently received some feedback that the third chapter of The Most Married Divorced couple caused some minor confusion, and so! a timeline to help make it clear what happens when is now being created! I also included fun facts about the series and my writing quirks because I am desperate for people to talk to meeee.

I have the full version, but this post will reflect the currently released works, or works that I can fit in spoiler free, such as the flashbacks, which are of course all prior to the main fic and can be read as stand alone if you so choose to just ignore their doomed future haha.

Purple titles are linked - let me know if I forget to link any of them!

Five times Robin rescued you and one time he didn't. (no link as not yet out)

This was a confusing one to fit in, as I would say that technically complicated exists somewhere in the middle of the many rescues, but I settled on first as it includes you meeting Jason.

the five as of this stage of development are:

the first time

the creation of your desert arrangement

the first time he drops you off at home

Complicated would occur loosely here

followed by the remaining rescues which I am keeping close to my chest.

Complicated

This could be read as a stand alone, but it is intended as the first kiss of this particular reader and Jason. It takes place shortly before Jason's death, maybe a year or two prior. While I never set an age in stone for the reader, I would imagine them to be mid to early teens.

We then experience a time-skip of several years.

Chapter one of The most married divorced couple

Till death do us part.

This fic occurs with no set age in mind for the reader or Jason, but you are settled into a apartment, and your daughter Mary is three years old, so I had imagined her as mid to late twenties or so, but you do not have to of course!

Chapter two of The most married divorced couple

Four years later

We skip forward four years into your divorce. Those of you with your smartie pants on will know this puts Mary as around seven years of age. This, for the majority of the time, is considered the 'main' time period, with anything before being a flashback. While I tried to make this clear, I will say it more plainly here because I am talking as me and it is easier to communicate this more bluntly out of the story:

Jason had zero contact post divorce with the reader or Mary until the events of chapter three; two years of utter silence. After the events of chapter three, while officially no changes in the custody arrangement were made, during the two years between three and two, Jason has come over as we see him do in 'four years later', or been present at places he could plausibly ran into you.

Chapter three of The Most married divorced couple

Jason comes home.

Despite what I just said about the main timeline, chapter three is an immediate flashback to the first time Jason returned after two years of total silence. Simply put this is two years AFTER till death do us part and two years BEFORE four years later. Or, for those of us keeping track by Mary's age, when she is five.

Chapter four of The Most married divorced couple

Churros, Coffee, hard Conversations, and Custody. (no link at this time because it isn't out yet)

a sneak peak of the unreleased chapter? in this economy? more likely then you think.

Jason wakes up on your couch, the morning after the events of Four Years Later, and after spending the morning as close as your heart can take to as a proper family would, with Mary, (once again aged seven for those keeping up that way) off to school, a very important, very sad, rather heated discussion must be had.

FUN FACTS

I, when writing x readers, try to avoid having the reader described as walking or running anywhere as I am a wheelchair user irl, and it often breaks immersion for me. No hate to writers who don't, its not a failing on your part, but I hope my fellow wheelchair girlies feel seen! I don't have her explicitly in a wheelchair, because I feel that it wouldn't represent most of my readers, but I have made a conscious effort that it could be read that way.

Jason's hoodie in chapter two, while never canonically described and therefore whatever you imagine it to be, in my own heart, is the 'I am kenough' hoodie. I had it as that in a draft, but I felt it changed the vibe too much to make it canon.

works I am considering writing for this series in addition to the main timeline:

meeting the resurrected Jason as Red Hood

The proposal

A series of dabbles or at least short, short, segments on what it's like to be pregnant in a family of the worlds greatest detectives

a short story about how Damian was impacted by the divorce

A far into the future mainly crack fic with the many bat uncles and aunts, Jason, and Grandpa Bruce all trying to convince a teen Mary to come join THEIR super team / to be their sidekick.

Let me know in the replies if any of these particularly excite you! I make no promises of writing them but they are rattling around in my mind.

[serafilms]

song 23! try hard (5sos) + park sunghoon (spotify wrapped event)

she’s so out of reach, and i’m finding it hard ‘cause she makes me feel, makes me feel, like i try, like i try, like i’m trying too hard

happy birthday sunghoon! wrote this one especially without being requested because 23 is his jersey number and i wanted to celebrate him today :) hope he has the best day + year

Today starts out just like any other: Sunghoon wakes up thinking of you. Actually, technically his first thought was ‘Wow, I’m one year older today,’ but his next thought was about whether or not you’d wish him a happy birthday, so it still counts.

He checks his phone and fights his disappointment when he doesn’t see a text from you. Instead, he’s flooded both in the group chat and his private messages with well wishes. He sends polite ‘Thank you’s’ to his relatives, tells the guys to ‘fuck off’ in their group chat, and laughs at Jake’s very lengthy and emotional private text, which Sunghoon is sure his friend cried while writing.

Riki facetimes him seconds after seeing that he’s awake and tells him he’d better have his house ready for their joint birthday party tonight.

“Seriously, if your backyard is a mess when I get there, I’m going to clog your toilet so people piss in the yard and then you have to clean everything properly.” Ah, what an angel. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks, Riki.”

Then the younger hangs up, leaving a promise that he and the others will arrive before lunch for their planned ‘pre-party group only birthday pizza party’ and to help set up for the ‘real party.’ Sunghoon looks around his bedroom. It’s a little messy, because he lives in it so of course it is, but he knows the rest of his house is in order.

He already obsessively panic cleaned the whole place three days ago, when Jay confirmed that he’d sent you an invite. Man, he hopes you show up tonight. Not that he cares that much, of course (he cares very, very much). Because caring too much is bad, Sunghoon thinks. He can’t show his weakness, even when he is extremely weak. He wonders if he really has gone too far in his delusions and might now be descending into madness.

You care about him, or at least he thinks so, but you always seem so far above him, out of reach (“Is Y/N out of my league?” he asked once, chewing on his burger. “Yes,” chorused his friends. Lovely).

Sunghoon sighs and looks around at his room then begins to clean it up. He can’t have you seeing this mess (not that he’s being presumptuous in assuming you will be in his room or anything! This is Purely Hypothetical).

It’s only after he’s finished, and opened his presents from his family, and received the cake that his mother had delivered for him and the guys to enjoy that he finally opens the door and sees their faces.

Jake immediately tackles him in a hug, and Sunghoon feels like he can’t breathe as he squeezes him and shakes him around. His chest warms with happiness though, and through Jake’s shaking he glimpses Jungwon, Riki and Sunoo in front of him. Jake finally releases him and speaks.

“Sorry we’re late! We stopped for churros.”

Sunghoon furrows his brow. “You brought churros for the party?”

“No, I wanted churros,” Sunoo says, then takes a big bite. “Wan’ some?”

“I’m good,” he replies.

Riki pats Sunghoon on the back, then barges past him into the house and immediately begins examining it like some sort of teenage home inspector.

“Happy birthday,” says Sunoo, then follows Riki inside and immediately throws himself on the couch to finish his churro.

Jungwon repeats the sentiment then adds, “Jay and Heeseung are picking up the drinks and pizzas, they’ll be here soon.”

Thank god I made friends with Jay all those years ago, Sunghoon thinks, feeling very touched, Who else is rich enough to fund their friend’s birthday party?

“Very cool,” he replies, then drags Jungwon and Jake inside.

The other two arrive soon after and they enjoy a nice party without interruption for about 20 minutes until Sunghoon checks his phone and feels himself frown at it being void of notifications.

Are you busy, or did you forget his birthday? Do you just not care about him? If so, you should. He wore ripped jeans to impress you. He bleached his hair in the hopes you’d notice him (though that was also because he lost a bet with Jay). Is he just trying too hard?

“What’s up with you?” Heeseung asks him as he slaps a slice of pizza on top of another to make what is effectively a pizza sandwich.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

Riki snatches his phone out of his hands and looks at the screen, where Sunghoon’s texts with you are open. “He’s pissy his girlfriend hasn’t texted him yet.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sunghoon says sadly, and Jake gives him a pat on the back in consolation.

“Don’t even stress,” says Sunoo airily. Sunghoon doesn’t like how unaffected he seems. Shouldn’t everyone wallow in his despair with him since it’s his birthday?

The younger continues, “I asked her yesterday and she said she’ll definitely be here. So we just need to make sure you look super hot tonight.”

He feels a flicker of hope arise in him.

“It’ll probably take a lot of work, but we’ve got time.”

The flicker sizzles and dies. He glowers at Sunoo. “Gee, thanks.”

However, true to his word, Sunoo makes sure that Sunghoon does look super hot. It’s actually insane how hot he looks. He admires himself in the mirror. Maybe being a try hard isn’t such a bad thing if he ends up looking as gorgeous as this.

The party starts without a hitch and is soon in full swing. His friends are all starting to get very drunk (except Jungwon and Riki, because Riki is waiting until midnight for the sake of integrity and Jungwon is a Good friend who is waiting with him) and Sunghoon feels himself getting a little cloudy minded too. But as he stumbles a little through the hall, he still can’t see you.

But there is someone who looks just like you at the end of the hall and in the kitchen right now. He walks towards them, squinting a little and hearing them laugh and say goodbye to someone who’s evidently leaving the kitchen. Wow, they even sound like you. As he enters the room, the person perks up and greets him, and when he blinks the blurriness out of his eyes, you appear in front of him.

Oh. “Hi Y/N,” Sunghoon says, flushing.

“Hey Sunghoon, happy birthday.” God, your smile is pretty. Your outfit is pretty too, and your hair and your face and your hands, where…

There’s a wrapped box in your hands, and you follow his gaze down to it, then start in surprise as if just remembering it. “Oh, yeah, this is for you! Where should I put it?”

Sunghoon is still trying to comprehend that you’re really here and talking to him as he tells you, “Just on the table is fine.”

Okay. This is his chance. Now or never. “Do you want to go to the backyard for a bit? I need some air.”

Maybe he’s hallucinating a little because of the alcohol (or delusion) but he swears you blush. “Sure.”

You follow him out to the back. He’s surprisingly steady for someone who’s had as many drinks as he has, and stops out on the back porch, turning to face you.

You clear your throat as he tries to get his pounding heart under control. “So how’s your day been so far?”

He can hear it beating in his eardrums, and hopes you can’t hear it too. “Yeah, good, good. Um, can’t really complain. I ate pizza.”

Sunghoon is really not sure what to say now. But apparently the alcohol in his system does, as he’s speaking before he’s even processed the words.

“Can I kiss you?” he says at the same time as you say, “I have another present for you.”

The both of you stare at each other for a moment, not having heard the other’s words. “What?” you ask.

Sunghoon feels his stomach churn and hears an alarm go off in his head. “Um, it’s nothing. You go first.”

You look away shyly for a second. Yep, you’re definitely blushing, he thinks. “I said I have another present for you. I was kind of waiting for the right time to give it to you.”

He’s surprised, if nothing else. “You didn’t have to get me two presents.”

He’s also curious. “So what is it?”

“Can you close your eyes?” You’re avidly avoiding his gaze.

Sunghoon obeys, and the darkness behind his eyes makes him all the more aware of the sound of his heart. He’s nervous and scared and anxious and frightened, and then all of it is melting away because your lips press themselves to his and you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, and he’s kissing you. Sunghoon’s stomach flutters and he brings his hands to your waist. It’s a very good kiss, and he can taste a little bit of cake on your tongue as it deepens.

Then you’re pulling back and Sunghoon is metaphorically and literally breathless. You kissed him. He kissed you.

“Happy birthday, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon’s face breaks out into a grin and he takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. He tugs you into his chest and looks down at you. “Thanks.”

And he kisses you again.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

The Marcusgate

It all started on a lazy Sunday, which was now Carmy's favorite day of the week, and with Syd and Carmy binge-watching Netflix's Blue Ribbon Baking Championship and remembering that Sandra Lee was a regular Bear's customer whenever she was in Chicago, so they pinged Richie to get her number and congratulate her for the show that Sydney was crazy about.

Syd maniacally took notes on all the recipes on the show and came up with variations of each that she planned to run by Marcus the next day. She was overjoyed when one of the bakers used lemon-macerated Concord grapes in his cake, and that excitement was quickly replaced by disappointment when that same baker was the first to leave the competition. And when she saw Sandra Lee in tears over a cheesecake, she knew she had to ask Marcus to add that cheesecake recipe to The Bear's menu as soon as possible, so she asked Carmy to contact Sandra and try to get all the intel.

In time, this led to all four of them starting a Blue Ribbon group chat that included Syd, Carmy, Sandra, and Marcus. They exchanged recipes and talked specifically about logistics to ensure plagiarism wasn't one of the ingredients when Marcus made The Bear's version of those desserts. Not only to avoid any potential legal complications that could affect the restaurant's or Marcus' reputation, but also because both Syd and Carmy knew that plagiarism was the fetish of those who can't, the lowest of crimes that only mediocre criminals commit, and they were way above that, as naturally so was Marcus. They also greeted each other on their respective birthdays and, of course, invited each other to dinner whenever that could be arranged.

One day, over one of those dinners that took place at Casa Sydcarmy, on a Sunday night when Sandra happened to be in town, she pitched an idea to the Michelin Star award-winning chefs: "What do you guys think of joining me as Executive Producers on my next project: Cordon Blue Ribbon?"

"Cordon Blue Ribbon?" Marcus was intrigued.

"You mean the Cordon Bleu version of your show?" Syd quipped.

"Exactly, and only Michelin Star award winner pastry chefs could compete on it and the prize would be a million dollars, instead of just $100K." Sandra's eyes met Marcus and stayed laser-focused on him.

Carmy was still silent and in disbelief when he looked at Marcus with a mix of curiosity and shock on his face, to know what he had to say to that.

"Sounds interesting..." Marcus added as he popped a mini cinnamon churro in his mouth, courtesy of Sandra who knew better than to show up empty-handed to a dinner party thrown by 2 Michelin Star award chefs.

"That's what I told my manager! When she came up with the idea, I was super interested right off the bat. You'll see, I have a 3-year contract with Netflix, and making another Pie Blue Ribbon cooking show wasn't going to cut it. It was more of the same, and innovation is a must in television if you want to stay relevant."

"You should know... having an Emmy under your belt, right?" Syd fangirl had entered the chat.

Sandra laughed and graciously accepted the compliment, meanwhile, Carmy had no idea what the ladies were talking about because he had never watched one of her shows before Syd came into his life, let alone a daytime Emmy award show.

Sandra went on and kept focusing on Marcus.

"So we decided to bring in more award-winning chefs and raise the stakes for this next project. That was the only way we could get the million-dollar prize approved. So... what do you think Marcus? Would you be on board? Would you be interested in competing for a million dollars?"

Marcus looked at Syd and Carmy, like asking for their greenlight and they both smiled and silently agreed.

So it was settled and when the show happened, he was going to be there, front and center. Sandra assured him.

Fast forward 6 months and the pre-production of the contest was being kick-started in Los Angeles.

Syd and Carmy declined the offer Sandra made them to be Associate Executive producers of the show so that Marcus could be a participant and no conflict of interests compromised him. Marcus, in exchange, offered them a cut of the prize if he won and Syd and Carmy agreed to only take credit on social media about being his sponsors and mentors but vehemently declined every penny he offered.

"You owe us nothing, Marcus, this is all you," Syd said.

"What are you talking about? Carmy believed in me when all I knew how to barely make were buns and you pushed me to be better, Sydney, to push myself. I wouldn't have gone to Copenhagen if it weren't for you, guys..."

"But because of your amazing work we also got a Michelin Star, Marcus. That star was a team effort, you're one of us. That's more than enough payback if you ask me." Carmy clarified with a: "Period" tone.

Marcus heard the subtext and was quick to be on the same page "Heard, chef."

Shortly after Marcus was wowing the judges with his creations, all 100% by Marcus Brooks. He took no inspo from the recipes he got from the chat he shared with Sandra, Syd, and Carmy. His only inspiration came from his loved ones, his affections, and people that he had met along the way and that had had a true impact on his life. Including Luca and Michael.

Marcus slayed the competition one killer dessert at a time.

There were 9 rounds and the grand finale. The level of complexity was evergrowing.

Marcus was a serene force of nature on that set.

He bagged the first round with a peach pie served in a sundae dish with a scoop of lemon buttermilk gelato at the base topped with balsamic caramel sauce and a half-moon shaped, fresh peach hand pie. The hand pie was hot, just out of the oven so the contrast between that and the ice cream was what really got the judges. They were amazed by Marcus' talent, from day one and knew he was final-round material from the get-go. There was no doubt about it in their minds because he was not only incredibly skilled but also calm and focused. He didn't falter under pressure.

The second round was also in Marcus' pocket when he served a petite croissant over a brass cooling rack dotted with Pearl sugar and honey filled with a gooey Délice de Bourgogne cheese and finished at the table with black truffle, inspired by Chicago's Kasama. The judges' feedback was amazing. They said it was exquisitely clever to use this as a cheese course. "The technique and execution were exemplary," they assured.

Then it was the turn of the most luxurious and rarest ingredient of them all: Criollo.

For those viewers at home who may have not been too familiar with this ingredient, Sandra gave a brief presentation:

"Criollo is a very rare and precious variety of cacao that was at risk of extinction for many years. It is the cacao of the Mayas and the Aztecs, the cultivation of which has been progressively abandoned owing to its low yield. It is a delicate cacao and makes up just 0.01% of global cacao production. Tonight, our chefs will use it as the primary ingredient to bring us the Wow factor we are looking for and that will earn them immunity in the next round. Let the Criollo games begin!"

With that, Sandra dismissed the participants and allowed them to go to their stations to start working their magic. They only had 50 minutes to make it happen and make it count.

Marcus decided to go with something a little bit different. He crafted his chocolate pyramid with a creamy ball of guava sorbet and a tasty coconut foam. He also crowned it with a thin sugar collar sprinkled with sesame seeds, flecks of red chili, and a little black garlic, providing complementary flavors and a subtle warmth too.

Immunity was his bitch.

For the next round, seeing as he was untouchable he decided to go rogue, he had the liberty to make whatever he wanted so he decided to make what he called: "Dreaming of Lod Chong". The judges were blown away when he served his creation in a small bowl that displayed this square of pandan parfait in a sauce of salted coconut cream. Marcus added specially treated crushed ice as a final flourish, too. Those little ice pieces looked exactly like diamonds. It was an unexpected success, expertly balancing sweet and salty notes. "The ice also added great texture. It was a solid finish.” That was what the judges had to say about it. Again, Marcus blew them away.

He kept advancing to the next rounds till he got to the semi-finals and the judges put the chefs through the wringer like never before.

The assignment was to make the outside of the dessert look like the main ingredient on the inside. The goal was not to sacrifice flavor to achieve uncanny and realistic resemblance, plus never losing sight of creativity and originality.

Most contestants failed the test because they presented obvious desserts that anyone could find in any respected bakery.

But Marcus, Marcus Brooks told a different sweet story with his dessert. And it wasn't even that sweet. It was acid and sweet and perfect.

Mojito Pie.

This was a memorable pie, the judges said. It had a buttery graham cracker crust topped by a very light lime and mint mousse that was dusted in lime powder to resemble an actual lime. This was served with a lime sorbet and spritzed with rum.

"It was adorable to look at and even better to eat," Sandra concluded.

That pie granted him a spot in the final.

Marcus was tense for the first time ever in the competition. He hadn't been that nervous in a long time. It was unlike him to be so high-strung.

Two days later, when the final episode of the show was being shot, Syd and Carmy surprised Marcus and showed up at the studio, along with Chester, for emotional support. The Bear was closed, Marcus was that important to them. The only other time when the restaurant was closed was on the occasion of Ever's funeral service.

Now it was Marcus' turn to be blown away. He was over the moon. And Carmy tried to give him some sort of pep talk but all he managed to say was: "You're already a winner, Marcus, just don't fuck it up and you'll be fine."

Syd dramatically rolled her eyes at Carmy's words and added: "Marcus, don't think about the prize ahead, think about what you've accomplished so far. You got this. And we got you."

Marcus smiled at her kind words and then the little moment Syd and him were having was interrupted by Chester's heavy palm on his back that sounded like a slap but was meant to be supportive and encouraging.

"My man! The million-dollar chef!"

"Not yet, Chester. Not yet!"

"What are you talking about?! That big fat check is yours, Marcus. What show have you been watching? They freaking love you, man. This finale is just paperwork, go get 'em!"

Marcus couldn't help but snort and nod. "Will do, Chest, will do, thanks, man!"

So, when the judges announced it was showtime, Marcus' entire life as a baker flashed before his eyes.

The final assignment was a triple one: They had to come up with a 3 step-sweet menu inspired by their past, present, and future as pastry chefs. And there was a catch: The future had to be a sweet version of a savory dish and look on the outside like its original savory version. They only had 3 hours to complete all 3.

Marcus knew he could pull a trifecta off, but he was afraid that pulling it in only 3 hours was pushing his boundaries as a baker a bit too far.

He went for it anyway.

For the past version of himself as a pastry chef, he decided to make "The Sydney's Donut", which was nothing but a Copenhagen-inspired and elevated version of the donut that Carmy had destroyed like a little bitch. That one was easy but he elevated it by presenting it on an edible marshmallow carved bowl.

Marcus' present at The Bear after winning a Michelin star was far more fancy, so he served the judges a "Turkish Delight, Almond, Manjari, Chocolate, and Rose." This chocolate bar hid a light, creamy chocolate center with a lovely layer of almond panna cotta. Arranged on top were Turkish delights, almonds, crystallized rose petals, and a quenelle of silky smooth almond ice cream. This dessert was currently part of The Bear's menu and it was the most popular choice among its customers with a sophisticated sweet tooth.

For the future, Marcus took inspiration from Syd and Carmy as a whole, and their collective impact on his life. Their love inspired him and so did the invisible string that seemed to connect them long before they met. When Marcus heard the whole story about Sydney's favorite meal and saw the pictures she had taken, he was deeply moved by it because it looked like Carmy had literally put his heart on the plate for her and it was exactly the kind of story that his mom used to love and cherish. So in honor of Syd and Carmy's love story and of his late mom, to whom he was going to dedicate the victory if he took the prize home, Marcus decided to make a fake heart-shaped Paupiette of hamachi with blood orange sauce. For the Paupiette of hamachi, he used molded white chocolate that he wrapped in a fine vanilla crepe and carefully colored with some cinnamon powder for it to look precisely like the original fish. The blood orange sauce was based on its original recipe minus the garlic and the chili flakes and he elegantly topped all that with a thin sweet potato chip sprinkled with sweet chili flakes to replicate the exact aesthetic of the fateful dish that proved to be Sydney's favorite.

The alchemic reaction was epic when the judges tasted that masterpiece. There was no more contest and the other two chefs knew it even before the unanimous verdict was announced.

All 3 of Marcus' works were mindblowing but the Paupiette of hamachi with blood orange sauce was not only flawless, but its appearance was exactly the same as Carmy's dish. There was no way to tell them apart.

To wrap up the award ceremony and his acceptance speech Marcus was asked to say a few words about each dessert on his menu and go over the reason behind each choice. When the time came to explain why he had chosen to make his own version of Paupiette of hamachi with orange sauce he said that Sydney, his mentor, and friend, had confided in him a long time ago that the best meal she had ever had was that dish, by Carmen Berzatto, back in NYC when he was the best CDC in the world and they hadn't even met yet. Marcus went on to mention that Carmy, or "Bear," as he called him, was also his friend and mentor and that without them, he probably wouldn't be there. And that he was forever thankful to both.

Carmy was saucer-eyed, he had no idea that he had made the best meal she had ever had. A dish he instinctively made for her, breaking all the rules and defying his boss' direct orders.

Syd looked at Carmy with that intense yet sweet but never condescending look she reserved for him only and took his hand as she smiled at him and tightened her grip.

Carmy smiled back and then re-directed his attention to Marcus when he elaborated on the background story of his winning dessert when Sandra said: "Wow! That is unbelievable and disarmingly sweet! You're telling me he made the best meal she ever had before they met and now they are husband and wife?!"

"Yes." Marcus smiled and looked at them.

Sandra was beside herself and declared: "That's the most romantic story I ever heard! Did Sydney just tell you one day: 'Oh by the way, Paupiette of Hamachi with blood red orange sauce is my favest and Carmy made it for me before we met in New York when he was the best CDC in the world?' Just like that? Is that a story she just tells everybody to, I don't know, break the ice?"

Marcus was finally loosening up and laughing out loud and he casually said: "No, no, we were having dinner at her place and..."

Carmy didn't hear what Marcus said next, he just looked at Syd as if he had just been shot and was bleeding to death right before her eyes and went: "WAIT, WHAT?!!?"

A/N: This fic was inspired by that Netflix baking show that I just binged entirely in 2 days over the weekend and Marcus' recipes come straight from the Michelin Guide because I can't even make French toast... My meta on the dish is embedded in the first mention of it.

Enjoy! 💋