#Best Streaming Practices

[uvaldecomputerrepairsstuff]

A Beginner's Guide to Streaming: Unveiling the Power of OBS Software and Hardware Encoding

Introduction In today’s digital age, streaming has become an increasingly popular way to connect, share content, and interact with a global audience. Whether you’re an aspiring gamer, a talented musician, or a knowledgeable creator, streaming allows you to showcase your talents and engage with viewers in real-time. To embark on this exciting journey, you’ll need the right tools and knowledge. In…

[smallidarityfan]

Kirie's Endercup MCC live reaction:

Love how Jimmy kept taking the mick on Joel when he killed him in survival games LMAO

^ Was reblogging my live updates but now im gonna edit it in 1 post here they were tho

JOEL JOINED THE LINEUP NEXT TO JIM... 🥹🥹🥹

PILLAGER TRIO (sorry gem) GEMPEARL i meant

IM AN IDIOT ITS EMPIRES IM SO SORRY 😭😭

THEY ACED GRID RUNNERS OHHH MY GOSH...

Love how Jimmy keeps noting down Joel's rank after every game... and commended his improvement since the first half of the game........... hey guys............

And Lime Llamas second?!?!! RIVALRY....... piglinmynose x sniffermyfeet rematch........ GOSH

PURPLE PANDAS WIN!!! YIPPEE!!! That matched the end theme yk!! purple!!!!

No End Update LOL

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

Look at me. Look at me.

Get out your phone or laptop or whatever, go to dropout.tv or the dropout app

And use your three-day free trial to watch Dimension 20 season 20: Burrow’s End

Go do it you will not regret it

[a-eo-iu]

Gay people in my head....

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

i've been turning more and more inward about how i'm enjoying harry and how i'm processing the end of tour, but it feels good, for now at least. i celebrated seeing him live so thoroughly that my last time seeing him felt like the end of tour in some way. i don't want to feel like i'm missing out when i'm out with friends, like i will be during his last show, bc in a world without streams i also wouldn't see that show. i've basically been training myself to slow down and appreciate (old) content more, and bask in a show and its content for longer. or be at peace not seeing content from a particular show. bc sometimes i feel nervous about missing something, or i feel myself having fomo for a thing i could not possibly be at. and most especially, i am not missing out, bc i had so many glorious opportunities to see the tour. i'm literally having a diary moment here just analysing my behavior and my feelings about being on tumblr and in the fandom during tour bc it's been a lot but i've loved all of it. i'm so fucking happy (and relieved) i can find ways to enjoy it all in my own pace. this space has changed a lot in the last few years but the way their content hits me personally hasn't changed, unless i let it all overwhelm me and i lose sight of what really matters to me about following them. i think it'll feel great to have a break from harry on tour, and let all of it hit me. to revisit little things that happened. to go through my own photos and videos. to go back to his mvs and dive a little deeper into them, at last. maybe i'm just a little overstimulated and ready for harry to stop bombarding me with content fshdf but the way his music makes me feel and the way his goofy face makes me smile and the way his creativity and presence inspire me every day will clearly always remain, after staying strong through all of this, after all these years. thank you, dear diary, for listening. harry styles forever

[kellystar321]

.

[magicwordorchestra]

fuck i should go to sleep cause ive got school in the morning but. listening to 30/90 by andrew garfield got me fucked up

[techswings]

OBS Studio Best Practices: Elevating Your Content Creation

As the world of content creation continues to evolve, OBS Studio (Open Broadcaster Software) has emerged as a powerful and versatile tool for live streaming and recording.

To achieve professional and engaging content, it is essential to adopt best practices when using OBS Studio.

In this comprehensive guide, we will explore a wide range of tips and recommendations to help you make the most of OBS Studio and elevate your live streams and recordings to the next level.

1. Plan Your Content

Before going live or recording, plan your content carefully. Consider the following:

Theme and Focus: Determine the theme and focus of your content. Whether you're streaming games, tutorials, or creative activities, a clear theme helps build a dedicated audience.

Storyboarding: Create a storyboard or outline to organize your scenes and sources, ensuring smooth transitions and a structured presentation.

Engaging Introductions: Start your streams with captivating intros that hook your audience and set the tone for the rest of the content.

2. Optimize Your Settings

Efficient OBS Studio settings are crucial for a seamless content creation experience. Consider the following optimizations:

Output Settings: Adjust output resolution, bitrate, and framerate based on your internet connection and desired video quality.

Hardware Acceleration: Enable hardware acceleration if your system supports it to offload some processing tasks from the CPU.

Use Scenes and Sources Wisely: Organize your scenes and sources to minimize clutter and confusion during your streams or recordings.

3. Audio Quality Matters

Audio is a critical aspect of content creation. Pay attention to the following audio best practices:

Microphone Quality: Invest in a good-quality microphone to deliver clear and crisp audio to your viewers.

Noise Suppression: Use OBS Studio's noise suppression filters to minimize background noise and enhance audio clarity.

Audio Balance: Ensure a proper balance between game audio, voice commentary, and background music.

4. Visual Appeal with Overlays

Engage your audience visually by using appealing overlays:

Custom Overlays: Create custom overlays that reflect your brand and add a professional touch to your streams.

Alerts and Widgets: Integrate alerts for followers, subscribers, and donations to acknowledge and appreciate your audience's support.

5. Master Transitions

Smooth scene transitions create a polished presentation:

Fades and Cuts: Use subtle fades or quick cuts between scenes for smooth transitions.

Stinger Transitions: Implement stinger transitions with dynamic video effects for a professional touch.

6. Engage with Your Audience

Building a connection with your audience is vital for content creators:

Interactive Elements: Add chat integration and interact with your viewers to create a sense of community.

Respond to Chat: Engage with your viewers by responding to their messages and questions during your streams.

7. Monitor Performance

Keep an eye on your OBS Studio performance to ensure a seamless streaming experience:

Performance Stats: Use OBS Studio's performance statistics to monitor CPU usage, dropped frames, and streaming bitrate.

Test Runs: Conduct test runs before going live to check the audio, video quality, and transitions.

8. Consistency is Key

Establishing a consistent schedule builds trust with your audience:

Regular Streams: Stick to a consistent streaming schedule to let your audience know when to expect your content.

Content Variety: Offer a mix of content to keep your viewers engaged and interested.

Conclusion

OBS Studio's best practices are fundamental to creating professional, engaging, and polished content.

By planning your content, optimizing settings, focusing on audio quality, using captivating visuals, mastering transitions, engaging with your audience, monitoring performance, and maintaining consistency, you can elevate your content creation game with OBS Studio.

Embrace these best practices and unlock the full potential of OBS Studio to connect with your viewers and build a dedicated community around your content. Happy streaming and recording!

[superavenueunknown]

Video Marketing: Why It’s Essential in 2025

In 2025, video marketing in 2025 is no longer an option—it’s a necessity. With digital marketing trends 2025 evolving at an unprecedented pace, businesses must harness the power of video content marketing to engage, convert, and retain their audiences. Whether you’re a startup, an established brand, or a growing enterprise, video marketing strategies are the key to staying ahead. MagixBowl, a leading digital marketing and branding agency, understands the significance of SEO video marketing and helps brands create impactful campaigns that resonate with their target audience.

The Power of Video in the Digital Era

With the rise of short-form video content, live streaming marketing, and interactive storytelling, social media video marketing has revolutionized digital engagement. Platforms like YouTube, TikTok, Instagram Reels, and LinkedIn Video have shifted how consumers interact with brands. A study reveals that 92% of marketers believe that video marketing in 2025 is an essential part of their strategy, with 88% reporting a positive ROI from video content. In a world where consumers crave brand storytelling through video, brands that fail to integrate SEO video marketing into their strategies risk falling behind.

Why Video Marketing is Essential in 2025?

1. Higher Engagement and Retention

Consumers are bombarded with information daily, making it challenging to capture their attention. Videos, however, can uniquely engage audiences more effectively than text or images. According to research, viewers retain 95% of a message when they watch it in a video compared to only 10% when reading it in text. Video engagement trends 2025 show that businesses leveraging high-quality video content marketing will see greater audience retention.

2. Improved SEO and Online Visibility

Google prioritizes SEO video marketing, meaning incorporating videos into your website and social media can improve your search engine rankings. Video content increases users' time on your website, reducing bounce rates and signaling to search engines that your content is valuable. MagixBowl specializes in SEO-driven video marketing strategies, ensuring your brand ranks higher in search results.

3. Boost in Conversion Rates

A compelling video can significantly impact purchasing decisions. Studies show that 84% of consumers are more likely to buy a product after watching a video about it. Whether it's product demonstrations, customer testimonials, or explainer videos, social media video marketing helps convert viewers into customers more effectively.

4. Strengthening Brand Identity

Consistent and creative video content helps establish a strong brand identity. Videos allow businesses to showcase their values, mission, and personality engagingly. MagixBowl leverages brand storytelling through video and high-quality production to craft videos that enhance brand recall and customer loyalty.

5. Dominance of Short-Form Video Content

Short-form video content on platforms like TikTok, Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts dominate social media. These bite-sized videos capture attention quickly and are highly shareable. Brands that adapt to this trend are more likely to succeed in video marketing in 2025.

6. Rise of AI and Personalized Video Content

AI-driven video marketing is transforming the industry by enabling hyper-personalized content. AI tools can analyze user behavior and preferences to create tailored video experiences, leading to higher engagement rates. MagixBowl integrates AI technology into video marketing strategies to deliver customized content that resonates with target audiences.

7. Social Media and Video Marketing Synergy

Social media platforms prioritize social media video marketing, making it crucial for brands to incorporate videos into their YouTube marketing strategy and other social media strategies. Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter algorithms favor video posts, ensuring higher organic reach and engagement.

8. Mobile Optimization and Accessibility

With over 6 billion smartphone users worldwide, mobile video optimization is essential. Best video marketing practices include vertical videos, subtitles, and interactive elements, making video content marketing more accessible and effective. MagixBowl ensures that your video content is optimized for mobile users, maximizing reach and engagement.

9. Live Streaming for Real-Time Engagement

Live streaming marketing is growing rapidly, with brands using it to interact with audiences in real time. Platforms like YouTube Live, Facebook Live, and Instagram Live enable brands to host Q&A sessions, product launches, and behind-the-scenes content. This fosters authenticity and builds stronger customer relationships.

10. Cost-Effective and High ROI

Contrary to popular belief, video marketing strategies don't always require a massive budget. With advancements in technology, creating high-quality videos has become more affordable. The ROI from video content marketing outweighs the investment, making it one of the best video marketing practices for digital marketing trends 2025.

How MagixBowl Can Elevate Your Video Marketing Strategy?

MagixBowl is at the forefront of video marketing in 2025, helping brands craft compelling, data-driven video marketing strategies.

Our services include:

Strategic Video Content Creation: We develop video content marketing tailored to your brand's objectives from concept to production.

SEO-Optimized Video Marketing: We ensure your videos rank higher in search engines and reach the right audience.

Social Media Video Campaigns: We create engaging short-form video content that drives traffic and conversions on social media platforms.

AI-Driven Personalization: Leveraging AI-driven video marketing, we deliver personalized video content that boosts engagement.

Live Streaming and Interactive Video Solutions: We help brands connect with their audience through live streaming marketing and brand storytelling through video.

Conclusion

In video marketing in 2025, video marketing is no longer just an option; it is the driving force behind successful digital marketing trends 2025. Businesses that embrace video content marketing will see higher engagement, better SEO video marketing rankings, and increased conversions. With MagixBowl as your video marketing strategies partner, you can harness the power of social media video marketing to grow your brand and stay ahead of the competition.

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[professorspork]

idk how to word this properly but wrt the fanfic thing you reblogged earlier. Why do fanfic writers have such different expectations than any other content hosting platform?

Like lets take youtube as a point of comparison, Engagement like comments and likes largely exists to boost the works place in algorithm, thats why youtubers put in calls to action and other engament bait. Few with decent reach even read the comments and the audience shouldnt try to develop any weird parasocial relationship with the youtuber. Fanfic authors ask for likes (kudos, because the websites gotta use nonstandard language for some reason) and comments despite them not having any impact on an algorithm, and seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author based on tumblr posts like that one.

Why the radical difference in behaviour away from the norm? And honestly with all the (usually) metaphorical blood spilled online about parasociality why are authors really surprised that the audience tries to keep their distance as is best practice with any other content producer?

okay I am going to answer this as kindly and as calmly as I can and try to assume that you are asking this in good faith. because my friend, the fact that you feel the need to ask is, to me, The Problem.

[this is, for the record, in response to this post]

fanfiction writers are not *posting content.* (I also have reservations about engaging with the term "content producer" or "content creator" but let's put that aside for now, I'll circle back to it.) you say "they seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author" as though it is strange, off-putting, and incomprehensible to you, when in fact that is the point of writing fanfiction. it is a way of participating in fandom. it is a way of building community and exchanging ideas and becoming closer with people.

if authors wanted to solely ~generate content~ that would get them attention (?? to what end, the dynamic you have described seems to equate algorithmic supremacy as winning for winning's sake, as though all anyone wants to do is BUILD an audience without ENGAGING with them, which I cannot fathom but let's pretend for a moment that is, in fact, true) then like. if that were the case why on earth would they choose a medium in which they categorically cannot succeed and profit, because it isn't their IP?

you are equating two things that are not at all the same thing. to the degree that parasocial relationships are to be avoided, and "that person is not trying to be your friend they are trying to entertain you, please respect their boundaries" is a real dynamic -- which it is!! -- like. you have to understand that the reason that is true for the people of whom it is true is because it is their JOB. they are storytellers by profession, and they are either through direct payment, or sponsorship, or advertising, or through some other means, profiting off of your attention. i don't say this to be dismissive, many wonderful artists and actors and comedians and any number of a thousand things that i enjoy very much go this route but they do so as a *career choice.* and so when you violate the public/private boundary with them, you are presuming to know a Person rather than their Worksona. the people who work at Dropout or who stream their actual play tabletop games or who broadcast on TikTok or YouTube are inviting me to feel like i know them to the degree to which that helps them succeed in their medium and at their craft, but there MUST be a mutual understanding that that's a feeling, not a fact.

however.

a fanfiction writer is not an influencer, not a professional, and is not looking to garner "success." there is no share of audience we are trying to gain for gain's sake, because we are not competition with one another, because there is nothing to win other than the pleasure of each other's company. we are doing this for no other reason than the love of the game; because we have things we want desperately to say about these worlds, these characters, these dynamics, and because we *want more than anything to know we are not alone in our thoughts and feelings.* fanfiction is a bid for interaction, engagement, attention, and consideration. it is not meant to be consumed and then moved on from because we are NOT paid for our work, nor do we want to be. the reward we seek is "attention," but attention as in CONVERSATION, not attention as in clicks. we are not IN this for profit, or for number-go-up. there is no such thing: legally there cannot be. we are in this because we want to be seen and known.

like. please understand. i am now married to someone i met because of mutual comments on fanfiction. our close friend and roommate, with whom i have cohabitated for over a decade now, is someone I met because of mutual comments on fanfiction and livejournal posts. that is my household. beyond my household, the vast majority of my closest personal friends are people with whom I built relationships in this way.

you ask why fanfiction writers want THIS and not "the norm," but the idea of everything being built to cater to an algorithm to continue to build clout, as though the only method of reaching people is Distant Overlord Creator and Passive Receptive Audience being "the norm" is EXTREMELY NEW. this is not how it has always been!! please think of the writers of zines in a pre-internet fandom, using paper and glue and xerox to try and meet like-minded people in a world that was designed for you to only ever meet people in person, by happenstance, in your own hometown. imagine the writers of the early internet, building webrings from scratch to CREATE a community to find each other, despite distance. imagine livejournal groups, forums, and -- yes, indeed, of course -- comment threads IN STORIES -- as places where people go to *converse.* in the past, we had an entire Type Of Guy that everyone knew about, the BNF ("Big Name Fan") whose existence had to be described via meme because it was SO DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM. treating fellow fans like celebrities or people too cool for the regular kids to know was an OUTLIER, and one commonly understood to lead to toxicity.

in the past, I have likened writing fanfiction to echolocation. i am not screaming because I like hearing the sound of my own voice, though i can and do find my voice beautiful. i am screaming so that the vibrations can bounce back to me and show me the world. the purpose is in the feedback. otherwise it is just noise.

does this make any sense? can you see, when i describe it that way, why an ask like yours makes me feel despair, because it makes us all sound so horribly separate from one another?

perhaps I will try another metaphor:

a professional chef who runs a restaurant will not have her feelings hurt if you never fight your way into the kitchen to personally tell her how much you enjoyed the meal. that would, indeed, violate a boundary. professional kitchens are a place of work, and you have already showed her you enjoyed the meal by paying for it, or by perhaps spreading your enjoyment by word of mouth to your friends so they, too, can have good meals. you show your appreciation by continuing to come back. if a bunch of people sitting around randomly happen to have a conversation about how much they love the food, it wouldn't hurt that chef's feelings to not be included in the conversation. however: EVEN IN THIS INSTANCE, it is ADVISABLE AND APPROPRIATE to leave a good review! you might post about how much you like this restaurant on Yelp, and it would probably make the chef feel great to see those positive comments. but the chef doesn't NEED them, because the chef is, again, *also being paid to cook.* that's why she started the restaurant, to be paid to cook!

i am not being paid to cook.

i am at home in my own kitchen, making things for a community potluck where i hope everyone will bring something we can all enjoy together. some people at the potluck are better bakers, some better cooks; some can't cook at all but are great at logistics and make sure there's enough napkins for everyone; some people come just to enjoy the food, because that's what the party is for. and if I, as this enthusiast chef who made something from my heart for this reason alone, learned after the fact that a bunch of people got together in the parking lot to rave about my dish but no one of them had ever bothered to tell me while I sat alone at my table all night, occasionally seeing people come by to pick up a plate but never saying anything to me -- of course that would bother me, because I am not otherwise profiting off the labor I put in. this is not a bid to be paid, because if someone WERE to say "hey, great cake!! here's five bucks for a slice" i would say no, friend, that is not the point and give them the money back. i'm not trying to Get Mine. I am in it to see the look on your face. I'm in it so you can tell me what about it moved you, so that I can say back what moved me to make it in the first place. so we can TALK about it.

because what happened in the first place is this: one time I had a cake whose sweetness, richness, flavor, intensity, and composition moved me so much that I *taught myself to bake.* so I could see how much vanilla and sugar was too much, so I could learn how to make things rise instead of fall flat, so I could even better appreciate the original cake by seeing for myself the effort and talent and inspiration that goes into making one even half as good.

learning to do so is a satisfying accomplishment in and of itself, yes.

but I also did it because at the end of the day we should EAT the cake. and it's a lonely thing, to eat alone when a meal was always designed and intended to be shared.

so, to answer your last question: i'm not surprised, i'm just sad. because somehow two things that were never meant to be seen as the same have been labeled "content," and thus identical. and it diminishes both the things that ARE intended to be paid for AND the things that are not, because it removes any sense of intimacy or meaning from the work.

i hope you know i'm not mad at you for asking. but i'm frustrated we've come to live in a world where the question needs to be asked, because the answers are no longer intuitively obvious because we're so siloed.

[iqstreamtech]

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[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ CEO KENTO FUCKING HIS WIFE

Tw- reader is his secretary n wife!!! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ not proofread :p

Thinking about CEO Nanami fucking his hot ribbons of cum further into his secretary wife’s cunt. :3 Your upper half is craning over his polished work desk and your limbs are shaking and strained from being crammed in the same position for so fucking long.

Your once well-ironed pencil skirt is now bunched up around your waist and the pristine buttons of your white blouse struggle to contain the ripe swell of your breasts that's smushed and spilling out onto his important documents— exposing all the purple hickeys and love marks that he imprinted on you earlier for the whole world to see.

His once orderly combed golden blonde hair is now in disarray, matted with damped sweat and his bangs fell across his hazel eyes, hindering his vision as he struggled to keep up his vigorous pace— he teetered on the verge of losing his mind as he feverishly gazed down at the sight of his creamy pool of cum threatening to spill from your stretched-out hole.

Streams of his milky sperm are trailing down your tender thighs, glistening under the ambient light and pooling on the sleek marble floor. As his swollen cockhead nudges the remnants of his release deeper into the depths of your womb and stroking your overstimulated walls to the verge of tears.

You let out a high-pitched whine in response to the overwhelming overstimulation following your blissful and toe-curling orgasm just from a minute ago.

You desperately tried to wiggle your hips to detach yourself from his toned pelvis in an attempt to break free from his harsh hold which only earned you a burly groan from the blonde because of your sudden movements making his sensitive shaft drowning deeper into the tight depths of your drooling cunny. And it was obviously no use because of his unyielding grip on the sides of your ass cheeks that was leaving you trapped in his powerful grasp.

“Kennn…sir! What if someone sees—“You fussed worriedly, your heart racing as you quickly realized the precariousness of the situation. Anyone could open the door at any moment and witness their usually dignified and honorable boss entangled in such a disheveled and scandalous scene— his slacks shamelessly pulled down his ankles while he was slamming his hefty shaft and stretching out his wife's pretty cunt like a possessed madman. He’s like a whole different person this way.

You're seemingly trying your best to hold onto the desk for dear life as he frantically pounds your aching cunt with an intense rhythm, causing your tummy to press hard against the unforgiving surface and making it a challenge to keep your balance and remain upright because of how sore you are.

“Then I’ll fucking fire them, no one is stopping me from breeding my wife’s pretty pussy.” he babbled stupidly. “Can’t wait to have cute little blonde babies with your gorgeous eyes running around, darling”. His voice dripped with possessiveness and was raw with desire as he eagerly expressed his anticipation for starting a family with you. :(

You immediately whimpered at his intriguing words, your body betrays you and somehow you don’t even give a fuck about anyone seeing when you were arching your back deeper against him and pressing your chest further into the cool surface of the desk as you took the rest of his relentless pounding.

The sensation of his heavy balls rubbing against your puffy clit with each forceful thrust was practically sending you spiraling into another orgasm. He leaned over you— pressing his weight into your supple form, showering your back with a trail of fervent kisses. “You’re mine, all mine” he declared with a deep growl, his breath quickening as his throbbing cock pulsated against your slick, tight walls.

And then when you’re approaching your next orgasm, he’s babbling a bunch of shit you never even expected to hear escaping from Kento's lips. Telling you “cum for me again sweetheart, let everyone hear how fucking slutty my sweet submissive wife is”.

You made a split-second decision to glance over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of how fucked out and messy Kento looked with his tie askew, his chiseled face flushed, and beads of sweat glistening everywhere. Maybe your husband is losing his mind after all.

[dungeonbbq]

why is twitch chat just consistently full of the worst people. like honest to god cave-dwelling type socially maladjusted weirdos who would genuinely rather die than say something that isn't extremely insulting or presumptuous.

[dior-luxury]

I need some teasing romantic fluff, can I request the housewardens reaction to being pulled into a random room by their lover and being smother with kisses. Please and thank you 💖💖

Kiss And Make-Out

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] suggestive themes . mentions of making out ofc

Note: Honestly thing took me shorter than I thought it would to write Lol. And I tried my best to not make it extremely suggestive... But I then realized I have free will and just made it regularly suggestive.

Riddle Rosehearts

The hallway was quiet, lined with the dignified wallpaper and polished wood of Heartslabyul’s east wing. Riddle was walking beside you, dutifully listing the upcoming events for the next dorm meeting, when you suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Wait—what are you—!" he sputtered, blinking rapidly as you tugged him into a nearby, empty reading room.

The door slammed shut behind you. Bookshelves stood in neat rows, sunlight streaming through high windows. But you didn’t give Riddle a chance to take in the room. You spun him to face you, pressing your body close, your hands already cupping his cheeks.

“[Name]!” Riddle gasped, eyes wide, ears turning red. “This is highly improper—”

You kissed him before he could finish.

His breath hitched as your lips met his in a flurry of soft, passionate kisses—one on the lips, another on the cheek, then two more down his neck. His back gently met the shelf behind him, a soft thump muffled by his uniform. He stood stiff for a second, flustered beyond belief, but then…

"...You're being completely unreasonable," he mumbled between kisses, although his hands were now resting on your waist. "I can't focus when you do that."

But he didn’t stop you.

Your kisses moved down to his collarbone, and Riddle squirmed just a bit. His face was a flaming red now, his breathing shallow. You could feel the way his heart was thudding under your fingertips as you ran your hands through his soft red hair.

“I’m trying to behave…” he whispered.

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you replied sweetly, stealing another kiss from his lips.

Eventually, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a quiet, surrendering sigh. “Only you could get away with something like this…” he muttered, arms now wrapped around your waist. “But if Trey walks in, I’m blaming you.”

Leona Kingscholar

You knew Leona was headed back from Spelldrive practice—his shirt clinging to his broad chest, his hair tousled, golden skin glistening with sweat. You had timed it perfectly.

As he turned the corner toward the dorm hallway, you jumped out from behind a tapestry, grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“Tch—what the hell—”

You dragged him into an unused music room, slamming the door behind you.

“Oi, herbivore, are you trying to start a fight?” Leona snapped, eyebrows furrowed, tail lashing in confusion.

But your only answer was kissing him hard.

The snarl caught in his throat immediately vanished as you caught him by surprise, hands sliding up his toned chest, lips moving over his with soft, heated insistence. For a moment, he stood stock-still, blinking, your kiss leaving him dazed. Then you kissed the corner of his mouth, then under his jaw, and he let out a slow, very audible groan.

“You really woke up and chose chaos today, huh,” he muttered against your lips.

He let his bag drop with a thud. “You could’ve waited ‘til I showered, but nah, you want your king like this?”

You nipped at his lip playfully, whispering, “I want you like this especially.”

That was enough.

Leona’s hands gripped your hips with a growl, spinning you and pressing you back against the wall, kissing you with fierce hunger now. His tongue brushed yours, his fangs grazing your lower lip as he kissed you harder, deeper. His tail flicked behind him, betraying his rising desire.

“I should punish you for ambushing me like that,” he murmured against your ear, voice gravelly.

“But I won’t.”

His smirk was dangerous and lazy all at once.

“Not yet, anyway.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had just finished another long meeting in Mostro Lounge. You waited until the twins had left him alone in the hallway before you struck.

“Azul, can I borrow you for a second?” you said sweetly, tugging at his sleeve.

“Ah, certainly, my pearl—wait, where are we—?”

You pulled him into a supply closet of all places. It was dimly lit, a little dusty, but private. Azul looked around in confusion, pushing up his glasses.

“I—is this about the contract I was drafting—?”

You didn’t answer. You kissed him.

The poor boy short-circuited. He froze as your hands slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp. You kissed his lips, then his cheek, then the underside of his jaw, and he visibly shivered.

“[Name]—w-wait—why now? I-I didn’t prepare—!” he stammered, glasses askew, already blushing violently.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, long and slow this time. Azul's knees buckled slightly, and he caught himself by gripping the shelves behind him. His breath was trembling as you ran your fingers down his sides.

“You… you’re going to kill me,” he whispered, eyes wide behind his fogged glasses. “This is too much for a man of my constitution…”

But even as he said that, his hands found your waist, gently pulling you closer. His lips brushed your ear.

“I suppose I shouldn’t complain about having such an affectionate girlfriend…”

You smiled. “You love it.”

“…Don’t tell the twins.”

Kalim Al-Asim

You caught Kalim just as he was coming down the golden staircase in Scarabia, humming to himself, all sunny and unbothered. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“[Name]!! I was just about to look for—WHOAAA!!”

You didn’t let him finish. You grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the nearest room—one of the spare guest suites with gauzy curtains and sun spilling in through the arched windows. He stumbled in after you, laughing the whole time.

“You’re so full of surprises today—ACK!”

You tackled him onto the cushions, landing right on top of him with a mischievous grin. Before he could ask anything, you started kissing him—peppering his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and his lips with kisses so fast he couldn’t even catch his breath.

“Wha—mmf! Wahahaha—[Name]!! Wait!!” Kalim laughed uncontrollably, trying to catch your hands in his. “You’re kissing me too fast—I’m gonna pass out from happiness!!”

You finally paused just long enough to look down at him. His white hair was a little messy, his golden eyes gleaming, his face flushed and grinning like the sun itself.

“Was that all for me?” he asked breathlessly, cheeks glowing.

You nodded and leaned in again, kissing his lips a little slower this time.

He melted under you like butter on hot sand.

“Wow,” he murmured, now dazed. “You’re… amazing. I think my heart just did a triple somersault. I should throw a party just to celebrate this moment!”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You really would, huh?”

“Of course!! I’ve never felt this lucky in my life!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was walking briskly through the upper halls of Pomefiore, hair and uniform immaculate as ever, when you stepped directly into his path.

“Vil,” you said, breathless and determined.

He arched a single, elegant eyebrow. “Yes, darling?”

Without answering, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a side hallway, then pushed open a door into one of the unused dressing rooms. The full-length mirrors and velvet furniture gave the room an intimate feel—one Vil would usually approve of.

“What exactly are we—mmph!”

You shut him up with your lips.

You kissed him firmly, again and again, ignoring his stunned stillness. His back lightly hit the vanity table, and your hands found his jaw, tilting his head as you kissed a path from his lips to his cheek to that spot right below his ear.

Vil sucked in a sharp breath.

“[Name]… this is hardly a—ah—suitable location…” he said, voice breathy despite himself.

You kissed down his neck, and he gripped the edge of the table hard enough for the wood to creak.

“…I’m trying to remain composed,” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re ruining my lip gloss.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, tasting the faint berry gloss on your lips. “I’ll buy you another one,” you whispered.

His hands finally slid up your arms, resting on your waist. His expression softened, pride melting into fond exasperation.

“You’re so bold when you want to be,” he murmured, brushing his forehead against yours. “But you should know… if you keep kissing me like that, I might not let you leave this room for a while.”

Idia Shroud

You had to be sneaky with Idia—if you startled him too hard, he’d vanish into a puff of blue flame and digital pixels.

So when you saw him walking back from the library with headphones in and Ortho floating behind him, you waited until he was alone—just outside the server room in Ignihyde.

You pounced.

“AHHH—SYSTEM ERROR, WHAT THE—?!”

You yanked him into an empty tech room and closed the door behind you. Idia stumbled backward, hair flaring slightly blue with panic.

“W-Wait, are we being chased?! Is this a boss battle? Did you glitch through reality again—?”

You didn’t let him finish.

You kissed him. Right on his startled, slightly parted lips.

His brain blue-screened.

Idia’s body stiffened like a glitching NPC. You kissed him again, this time on the cheek, then again, trailing little kisses along his jawline. His hoodie bunched under your fingers as you leaned into him, holding him close, while his hands flailed in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“M-M-M-M-Moe overload—emergency shutdown imminent—!!”

You giggled and pressed a softer kiss to the tip of his nose.

That seemed to reboot him. Slowly, his shaking arms wrapped around you, awkward at first, but growing tighter as you kept going. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Are you real? Like… for real real?”

“Very real,” you said, kissing him one more time.

He leaned into you then, forehead pressed to your shoulder, still flustered but clinging to you like you were the only stable thing in his world.

“…You’re OP,” he mumbled. “Totally broken character build. It’s unfair. Nerf girlfriend pls.”

Malleus Draconia

It was late evening, just after sundown, and you spotted Malleus walking alone through one of the lesser-used halls of Night Raven College—moonlight catching on his horns, his cape flowing behind him like royalty incarnate.

“Malleus!” you called, jogging up beside him.

He turned with a small smile, the kind that he reserved just for you. “Ah, my love. What fortune brings you to this path?”

Without warning, you grabbed his hand—cool, calloused, always gentle—and tugged him through the closest heavy oak door. The room was empty, dark except for the faint shimmer of magic-laced torches. Dusty furniture and a grand window gave it an old, castle-like feel. Perfect.

“Where are we going?” he asked, tilting his head. “Is there danger?”

You didn’t answer. You pushed him back gently against the wall and kissed him.

His eyes went wide, not in shock, but in the quiet kind of awe that only Malleus seemed capable of. You kissed his lips, then his cheek, then the pale stretch of skin along his neck. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing him again and again—slow, soft, reverent.

“Dearest,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion, “your affection is… overwhelming.”

You kissed the tip of his jaw. “Is that a problem?”

“…Not in the slightest.”

His voice dropped low, velvety and deep, as he rested his forehead against yours. “You wield power greater than most—did you know? Not in magic, but in how effortlessly you undo me.”

You smiled and kissed him again, this time slower, and something in him finally gave way. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as his lips met yours again, more certain now, more claiming. His kisses were intense and unhurried—like time stopped for you and him alone.

“If this is what it means to be mortal,” he whispered between kisses, “then I never wish to be a god again.”

[verstappenverse]

Lessons in Jealousy

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You’ve been in love with Lando as long as you can remember, but to him, you’re just his best friend. Enter Max your longtime frenemy who offers to help make Lando jealous. But as Lando finally starts to notice you, you wonder if you were chasing the wrong heart all along.

11.3k words / Poll Winner / Masterlist

Celebrations were in full swing tonight, laughter and clinking glasses filled the paddock lounge, and there was Lando in the middle of it all. He’d just finished another impressive race and with each victory the swarm of admirers seemed to grow. You’d spent years watching him like this, taking it all in from the sidelines. From kids at the karting track you’d been through nearly everything together. Yet somehow he never seemed to see you in the same way you saw him.

The thought stung. He saw you as his constant, his dependable best friend, and though your heart had tried, time and time again, to beat in time with his, it seemed that it may never be.

As you sat on the edge of the lounge sipping a drink, feeling like you’d blended into the wall, a familiar, annoyingly smug voice brought you back to reality. Max Verstappen leaned against the wall beside you, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips as he nodded towards Lando.

“Never gets old huh?”

You’ve known Max almost as long as you’d known Lando, which is to say, too long. Your friendship with Lando was easy, uncomplicated, and comfortable from the start. Max though? That was different. With Max, it was like fire and ice.

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but from the moment he entered your orbit, it was as if the universe had decided you two were destined to push each other’s buttons. If Lando was easy warmth, Max was the kind of heat that could burn. He had a knack for getting under your skin, for knowing exactly what to say to rile you up, to make you bite back with sharp words and narrowed eyes. And you weren’t innocent in it either, you knew what set him off, what made his jaw go tight, what made his hands flex against his thighs like he was physically restraining himself from responding.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let him get under your skin. “You’re always so observant Max. Maybe try worrying about your own life?”

“Come on, it’s practically a free show,” he laughed, eyes not moving from Lando who was currently entertaining a particularly beautiful fan with one of his charming stories. You’d tried to accept his constant stream of dates, pretending that each one didn’t hurt a little more than the last, but the look in his eyes when he gazed at her… it stung.

“Surprised you have time to comment on my life Verstappen,” you shot back, not bothering to turn.

“It’s hard to miss. Every time I turn around there you are. Just trying to understand it.”

You glanced up at him. “Understand what?”

“Do you have a life outside of following him around?” he asked, raising an eyebrow

“Do you have a life outside of annoying me?” You fire back, hiding the warmth rising to your cheeks.

Every time you saw Max his quick wit and sometimes annoyingly perceptive comments rubbed you the wrong way. Lando would just laugh whenever you and Max got into your usual back-and-forth.

“You guys are worse than siblings,” he would tease.

Max seemed to enjoy poking at your devotion to Lando, teasing you about your years spent watching him with starry eyes, never once making a move. And yet, somehow, every taunt felt calculated, like he was trying to unravel something only he could see.

Max’s moved closer to you, his expression shifting into something almost thoughtful. “You know,” he said, his voice lowering, “I almost feel bad for you sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. I’ve watched you for years, following him around like he’s the last guy on earth.”

“Because he’s my best friend,” you retorted, feeling defensive. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Max tilted his head, considering you. “Right. And that’s why you look at him like he hung the damn moon?”

“That’s not—” You opened your mouth to argue but snapped it shut. Arguing with Max was like arguing with a brick wall. He always had a way of pushing buttons you didn’t even know you had.

He shrugged. “Look, I just don’t get it. You’ve been waiting around for him forever. And for what?”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that already. What exactly are you getting at?”

His gaze flickered. “You need a new approach.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A new approach?”

Max nodded. “Simple psychology. Stop hanging around like his shadow. Make him notice you’re not always there.”

“So, your grand plan is to just play hard to get?”

“Not just play,” he corrected, a sly smile on his face. “Be hard to get. Lando’s used to always having you around, if you change that up it’ll get under his skin.”

The thought took you by surprise. You’d spent years at Lando’s side, always dependable, always there. The idea of pulling back felt...risky. But Max was right. It was a small risk compared to the years of waiting you’d already put in.

“I could help you, you know.” His voice was so casual that it took you a moment to process what he’d just offered. When you turned to him, he wore an expression of mild amusement. “Give him a little push. Maybe make him notice you for once.” His eyes glinted.

You stared at him, caught between skepticism and intrigue. “And what would you get out of it?”

Max crossed his arms, that signature confidence settling over him. “Maybe it’ll be fun,” he said with a wink, then shrugged. “Or maybe I just want to stop seeing you look miserable every race weekend.”

His expression was unreadable, but something about the way he was looking at you made your stomach twist.

What did you really have to lose?

You decided to give Max’s plan a try. Over the next few weeks you started making yourself less available. At first it felt unnatural, like you were playing a role in someone else’s life. Instead of rushing to Lando’s side after each race, instead of being the first person to celebrate his podiums or commiserate his losses you found other ways to spend your time. What you didn’t expect was how quickly your free time started being filled by Max.

He had a habit of appearing at the exact moment you might have otherwise gone to Lando, redirecting your focus with an effortless pull. If Lando was occupied, Max would materialise leaning against a wall, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised as if he’d been waiting for you to notice.

What was worse? You didn’t hate it.

You started seeking him out. Not consciously at first, but enough that he noticed.

“Still following orders?” he’d ask whenever you showed up in his garage, as though challenging you.

“Believe it or not I’m here by choice,” you’d reply, trying not to smile at his cocky grin.

That was the thing about Max he pushed, he prodded, he provoked. But for all his sharp edges, he had a way of making you think, of making you see things differently. You found yourself spending more time with Max in a way that bordered on ridiculous. You started joining him for lunch, sitting in on debriefs you had no real reason to be in, talking strategy like you actually belonged there.

And more and more, you started to notice things you hadn’t before.

The way Max listened, really listened, when you spoke. The way his brow furrowed when he disagreed, the way he challenged you, not to be difficult, but because he wanted to hear your reasoning, wanted to understand your perspective. Beneath the arrogance, beneath the ever-present smirk and the witty remarks, there was an intelligence and insightfulness you hadn’t fully appreciated before.

The longer you took to text Lando back, the more he started to notice. At first he joked about it, throwing an arm around your shoulders like he always did.

“You’re getting popular, huh? Who’s keeping you so busy?” he asked, a little laugh in his voice. But there was something else in his gaze confusion, maybe even curiosity.

You only smiled, shrugging it off, but you could feel the shift.

“Let me guess,” Max said as you both sat outside the team’s motorhome later that week, watching Lando down the pit-lane goof around with a few fans, occasionally glancing in your direction, “he asked you to meet up tonight, didn’t he?”

You sighed, folding your arms. “Yeah, he did.”

Max scoffed, shaking his head. “See? It’s already working. He’s starting to realise you’re not always there when he wants you.”

You let out a short laugh, though there was uncertainty beneath it. “I don’t think that’s true. He probably just—”

Max turned toward you then, his teasing fading into something more serious.

“You really don’t see it do you?” he said, almost as if he were realising something in real-time.

You frowned. “See what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at you, at the space between you, at whatever invisible shift had taken place in the past few weeks. “You’re different when you’re not waiting around for him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Max leaned in slightly, voice lowering just enough to make you feel like he was letting you in on some kind of secret. “You’re not trying so hard to be the girl you think Lando wants. And, for what it’s worth I think this version of you…the real you, is a hell of a lot more interesting.”

The words settled in your chest, warm and unexpected, leaving you momentarily without a response.

Late one afternoon Max showed up at your hotel door twirling his car keys around his finger. “Come on,” he said, eyes gleaming with something that looked dangerously close to mischief.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Come where?”

He leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. “I figured it was time to see if you’re actually capable of driving or just a glorified spectator.”

Your brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, grinning now. “Let’s go.”

Naturally, you took that as a challenge.

The two of you spent hours racing each other, bumping karts, stealing inside lines, and throwing accusations of dirty tactics back and forth. Sure, it was fast, intense, competitive but there was so much laughter, a kind of easy camaraderie that felt strangely liberating.

You had just pulled off your helmet, hair a mess and adrenaline still buzzing through your veins, when you spotted Max watching you with a small, unguarded smile

“You’re actually pretty good out there,” Max admitted, his voice amused.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you took a sip of water. “High praise from the world champion. Should I be flattered?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts.”

You scoffed, leaning against the railing beside him. “Only because it’s you. It’s survival instincts Verstappen.”

Max turned slightly, his arm brushing yours as he studied you. “Oh, so now you’re saying I make you better? That’s interesting.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head, mock thoughtful. “Sounds a lot like what you said.”

You huffed, nudging him with your elbow. “Fine. If it makes you feel better you make me drive more aggressively.”

His grin widened. “See? You do get better when I’m around.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “No I just want to beat you.”

Max bumped his shoulder against yours, casual, easy. “Same thing.”

You shook your head, unable to fight the grin pulling at your lips.

“Seriously,” he said, his voice softer now, “I think you’re tougher than you give yourself credit for. Definitely tougher than most people realise.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, the words striking somewhere deeper than you expected.

Things slowly started to shift between you and Max. Little moments that should have been insignificant but somehow weren’t.

Like the way Max always seemed to find you in a crowded room, even when you weren’t looking for him. How he started waiting not in an obvious, deliberate way, but just enough for you to notice. Just enough that you felt it.

Or the way he’d pass you a drink at an event before you could even ask for one, like he already knew what you needed. The way he’d brush his knee against yours under the table at dinners, wordlessly checking in. The way he always had a sarcastic remark at the ready, but if anyone else gave you a hard time, he was the first to shut it down.

And then there were the more obvious moments.

Like how somewhere along the way, you had just become part of his post-race routine, not just because you were waiting for him, but because he was waiting for you too. Whether it was dinner, drinks, or decompressing in a hotel room after a long day. You just ended up there like you belonged, the same way he always ended up beside you.

Or the time he offered you a seat on his plane without a second thought, the invitation so casual it almost felt meaningless. You don’t need to fly commercial just come with me. As if it was the easiest thing in the world, like it was obvious you’d say yes. And when you did, the entire flight passed in quiet conversation and comfortable silence, his jacket draped over you when you fell asleep somewhere over the Atlantic, something you only noticed when you woke up, groggy and warm, finding Max pretending as if he hadn’t been watching you.

It wasn’t the same as following Lando around, lingering in the spaces he occupied, hoping he’d finally see you. With Max, you weren’t just there, you were wanted.

At some point, the teasing had shifted, too. It was still there, sharp as ever, but there was something gentler beneath it. A knowing look. A lingering glance. The more time you spent together, the harder it was becoming to deny.

As the paddock wound down one evening and the last traces of daylight faded into the horizon, you stepped out to find Max waiting for you. He was leaning against his car, arms crossed over his chest, that ever-present smirk playing at his lips.

You slowed your steps, eyeing him warily. “What?”

Max smirked, tilting his head slightly. “I just wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

Your heart stuttered for a fraction and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Depends on the reason.”

He just grinned, rolling his eyes. “Get in the car. I have a spot I want to show you.”

You didn’t question it. That was the strange thing about Max, you never quite knew what he was up to, but somehow, it always felt like it made sense in the moment. So, you got in.

The city lights faded behind you as Max drove further out, leaving the familiar chaos of the paddock behind. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable if anything, it felt easy, like neither of you needed to fill it just for the sake of it, he just drove. One hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gearshift, his posture relaxed but focused.

You leaned your head against the window, watching the world blur past. “So, am I going to get an explanation at some point, or are we just driving until we run out of gas?”

Max huffed a laugh, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “Patience, princess.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but the blush rising to your cheeks threatened to betray you.

Eventually, he pulled off onto a secluded hilltop, a place that overlooked the distant glow of the city below. The sky stretched wide above you, stars blinking against the dark canvas of night.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to stargaze,” you murmured as you stepped out of the car, glancing at Max as his gaze lifted to the sky.

He smirked, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the stars above. “I’m full of surprises.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “And what’s the other way?”

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “A walking contradiction. Impossible. Infuriating.”

Max chuckled as he looked back up at the sky. “You forgot irresistible.”

You let out a scoff. “Oh, right. How could I forget that?”

You sat beside him, close enough to feel his warmth in the crisp night air, but not close enough to touch. As your conversation continued late into the night, you started to realise there was a lot more to Max than you had ever really understood.

He was talking about his early days on the track, the relentless pressure, the suffocating expectations, the way the sport had consumed him before he was even old enough to fully understand what it meant. And with that came the isolation of a life that revolved around racing before he had the chance to figure out who he was outside of it.

“You don’t exactly seem like someone who needs…anyone,” you said, your curiosity genuine.

Max gave a small shrug, his gaze flickering toward the horizon. “You get used to being alone in this world. Everyone wants something from you, so you learn to keep people at a distance.”

His honesty caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his words settling in a way you hadn’t expected. “Then why are you helping me?”

He let out a short laugh, but his gaze held yours. “Maybe because I understand what you’re going through. More than you know.”

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning.

You weren’t sure what to say. This was new territory, uncharted, and unfamiliar.

Several weeks later you were all out at a club, the night was loud, the place packed with bodies. The bass thrummed through your chest, neon lights casting shadows over familiar faces as you navigated through the crowd. Lando was here, you’d spotted him earlier laughing with a group of people you barely recognised caught up in his own world.

You had found him, weaving through the crowd, your hand grazing his arm as you leaned in close, your voice barely cutting through the music. But the moment lasted no more than a few seconds before he brushed you off, distracted, his attention elsewhere. A joke thrown over his shoulder, an easy grin at someone else, and suddenly you weren’t even there.

Maybe it was the drinks, or the music, or the fact that he had no idea how much this all meant to you, but for the first time, it felt different. Like a crack forming in something you’d always assumed was solid.

So you had stepped away, retreating to the edges of the club, frustration twisting in your chest as you rested against the cool wall. Your shoulders slumped, exhaustion creeping in not just from the night, but from all of it. The waiting, the hoping, the years of being right there only to be left standing in the background.

That was how Max found you.

“Still hoping for a miracle?” His voice cut through the music, and when you turned your head, he was beside you, leaning casually against the wall like he hadn’t just read your mind.

You sighed, tilting your head back. “I don’t know anymore.”

For once, Max didn’t smirk, didn’t tease. When you glanced at him, his expression was softer, the usual sharpness in his eyes replaced with something closer to concern.

“You don’t have to wait for him you know,” he said simply.

You exhaled, turning to face him fully. “And what else am I supposed to do?”

He shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe you’re too close to see it, but you’re worth a lot more than being someone’s second choice.”

Max’s words his unwavering certainty planted a thought in your mind that you weren’t ready to face. “I know you’re trying to help,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, “but it’s complicated. I’ve been friends with Lando for so long it’s hard to just—”

“Walk away?” Max interrupted gently. “Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Max shook his head, as if letting you off the hook.

“Forget it,” he said, his tone lighter. “I know you’re not ready to give up on him.” And then he pushed off the wall and walked away, disappearing into the crowd before you could stop him.

But as you stood there, alone in the darkened corner of the club, Lando’s laughter echoing from somewhere across the room, you found yourself wondering if Max was right. And if he was…what the hell were you still waiting for?

One late night, you found yourself sitting with Max in the quiet hum of the Red Bull garage. His hands moved animatedly as he explained his thoughts on the upcoming strategy, eyes sharp with focus, completely absorbed in his own thoughts. He spoke fast, precise, running through every possibility, every variable, like his mind was operating on a level most people couldn’t even grasp.

It was mesmerising to watch.

“You’re staring,” he noted, barely looking up from the data, but the smirk in his voice was unmistakable.

You blinked, caught off guard, heat creeping up your neck. “Am I?” you deflected, tilting your head. “Maybe I’m just realising you might actually know what you’re talking about.”

Max let out a short chuckle, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he studied you with an infuriating level of amusement. “Careful,” he mused, his eyes glinting. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were impressed.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Let’s not get carried away.”

His smirk widened, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned in. “Too late. I’m taking it as a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile you couldn’t quite hide gave you away. “Fine. I guess you’re a lot better at this than I may have originally gave you credit for.”

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “That almost sounded genuine. Say it again, I just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

You nudged his arm, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck Verstappen.”

Max just grinned, and he looked at you then like he knew something you didn’t, but before you could respond your phone buzzed on the table between you. You didn’t even have to check the screen to know who it was.

Lando.

You picked it up, your stomach tightening as you read the message. A simple, casual miss you.

Two words that once would have sent your heart racing now felt hollow. Forced. Like an afterthought rather than something real. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you exhaled quietly and set your phone back down without replying.

“What did he say?” Max asked, his tone unreadable.

“Nothing important,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the edge of the table.

Max didn’t press, but the atmosphere felt heavier, like there was something you’d both acknowledged without needing to say it aloud.

Then, with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Max stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Come on, it’s late let’s get out of here.”

You nodded, standing as well, but before you could say anything, he glanced at you, something unreadable across his face. “Goodnight princess,” he added as you headed your own way, his tone light, teasing like nothing about this night had affected him at all.

But when you looked at him, really looked at him, you saw it. The shift in his expression. The way his smirk faltered for just a second, like there was something else he wanted to say but wouldn’t.

Days later you were standing beside Max the night air was warm, thick with the lingering heat of the day. It could’ve been anywhere, a quiet corner of the paddock, or a rooftop overlooking the city, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Max wouldn’t look at you.

He had been quiet all day. His jaw was tight, his fingers tracing the edge of the bottle in his hand, his eyes fixed on the ground like he was thinking about something he didn’t want to say out loud.

You exhaled, shifting beside him. “You’re acting weird.”

Max scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

You arched an eyebrow. “You are. You’re never quiet this long unless you’re planning something dangerous.”

At that, he let out a breath of laughter, but it faded quickly.

“I don’t get it,” he said suddenly, watching you over his drink.

You frowned. “Get what?”

His jaw clenched slightly before he spoke, his voice quieter now, more measured. “How can he not see it?”

A strange sort of unease curled in your chest. “See what?”

“You.” His voice was steady, intent. “You’re always there, supporting him, understanding him…I don’t understand how he doesn’t see how incredible you are.”

Your breath caught, heat rushing to your face at the sheer honesty in his tone. Max didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He didn’t hand out compliments just for the sake of it.

“Max…”

He shook his head, setting his drink down on the ledge beside him. “He’s blind, or maybe just afraid. But you deserve more than this.” His lips pressed together for a second, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “You deserve someone who doesn’t take you for granted.”

You swallowed, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “It’s not as bad as you make it sound,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I know he cares about me, maybe not in the way I’ve always wanted him to but…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “When things got hard, when I needed someone, he’s never turned his back on me.” A small, almost sad smile crossed your lips. “We’ve been through so much together. He knows me better than most people do.”

Max’s expression was lost, but he didn’t interrupt.

“It’s just sometimes, it’s hard,” you admitted finally, your voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken doubts. “Because I know he cares really, in his own way, but I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough.” You shook your head, exhaling slowly. “Not in the way I want it to be.”

Max’s gaze softened slightly, the edge of his earlier frustration fading just a little. “You can’t keep waiting for him to notice,” he murmured finally, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was something else there too.

You shifted beside him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m not waiting—”

Max cut you a look.

You sighed, looking down at your hands. “Okay. Maybe I am.”

Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair, glancing out into the night. For a moment, you thought that was the end of it that he would just drop it like he always did when you didn’t want to listen. But then, just as you were about to change the subject, he spoke again.

“I just don’t get why it has to be him.”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking onto his. “What?”

Max’s jaw tightened, like he regretted saying it out loud. But he didn’t backtrack. He never did. Instead, he exhaled sharply. “You act like he’s the only person in the world who could ever make you happy.”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” His voice was level, but there was an edge to it, something restrained. He ran a hand over his jaw, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “I’ve seen you wait for him. Years. And I keep wondering…”

A lump formed in your throat. “Wondering what?”

Max swallowed, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to shove them in his pockets or maybe run them through his hair again, anything to distract himself. But he didn’t. He just looked at you.

“Wondering when you’re gonna realise you don’t have to.”

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

He leaned back against the ledge, tilting his head slightly. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice softer now, no teasing, just quiet sincerity. “I just want you to be happy. That’s all.”

You exhaled, looking down at your hands, the weight of everything settling deep in your chest. “Me too.”

Max nudged your knee with his, a small attempt to lighten the moment. “You’ll figure it out.”

You glanced at him, searching his expression, and found nothing but warmth in his gaze. “Yeah?”

He nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. You always figure things out when it matters.”

You huffed a small laugh and just like that, the tension lifted, fading into the night. Maybe nothing had changed. Maybe everything had. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were waiting for Lando at all. Or if you were just afraid of what would happen if you finally stopped.

Lando’s behaviour changed even more in the following weeks as he felt your absence grow.

The late replies that once went unnoticed were now met with double texts. The easy, casual invites had turned into persistent attempts to recreate days together “just like old times.” He was calling more, messaging at odd hours, throwing your name into conversations like a tether, as if trying to remind you of your place in his world.

It should have felt like everything you had ever wanted. The attention, the shift, the proof that maybe this had been the answer all along. And yet, somehow, the thrill of getting Lando’s attention wasn’t as satisfying as you’d imagined.

And then, one night, everything changed.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, no dramatic moment of realisation. It was just Lando, the two of you standing together slightly separated from the crowd. You had noticed it the way his eyes lingered, the way his laughter softened when it was just the two of you, like he was seeing something new.

And then, just like that, he finally said it.

“You’re one of the most important people in my life,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Let me take you out,” he said suddenly, almost like he was realising it in real time. “Just us. Properly.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him.

This was it.

Lando, finally seeing you. Finally wanting you.

For months, years really, you had waited for this. Dreamed of it even.

And when the moment finally arrived, you said yes.

A real dinner, just the two of you. No last-minute paddock meet-ups, no half-hearted invitations tacked onto group outings. A proper date. The kind you had imagined more times than you could count. And yet, as you sat across from Lando at a sleek, candlelit table, dressed in the outfit you’d spent way too long picking out, the excitement you had expected wasn’t there.

Instead, a strange mix of anticipation and dread settled in your chest.

You tried to ignore it.

Lando was smiling at you, talking animatedly about something, golf, or maybe a new sim rig setup, but you found your mind drifting. The restaurant was perfect, the kind of place you used to imagine him taking you to.

But something about the moment still felt…off.

You forced yourself to focus.

Lando leaned back in his chair, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers raking through the curls like he was trying to ease some unseen tension. “Everything is just so busy at the moment,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly. “Sponsor stuff, sim training, and, you know, the actual racing.” He let out a small laugh. “Barely any time to breathe.”

He smiled then, but there was something searching in his gaze. His fingers tapped lightly against the stem of his glass before he lifted it, taking a slow sip. “But I guess you’ve been busy too.”

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

Lando tilted his head slightly, the candlelight flickering in his eyes as he studied you. “I don’t know,” he said, voice lighter than his expression. “It just feels like I don’t see you as much anymore. Not like we used to.”

The words settled between you, and suddenly, the air felt heavier.

You hesitated, fingers curling around the stem of your wine glass, rolling it between your fingertips as if that would steady you. “Yeah…I guess things have just been different lately.”

Lando nodded slowly, but his gaze didn’t leave yours. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you said carefully. “I guess I’ve just been… busy.”

Lando hummed, unconvinced. “Busy with Max?”

You inhaled sharply, the directness of his words catching you off guard. He wasn’t teasing, wasn’t smirking. He was asking.

You placed your glass down, exhaling. “We’ve been spending more time together, yeah.”

“I figured,” he said finally, his voice even. “You two have been… close lately.”

You swallowed, feeling a strange mix of guilt and something else, something you weren’t ready to name. “It’s not like that,” you said quickly, but even as the words left your mouth, you weren’t sure they were true.

Lando studied you for another second, then sighed, shaking his head with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not mad, you know,” he said, softer now. “I just… I guess I didn’t realise how much things had changed.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t know what to say. Because neither had you.

Lando nodded, then he leaned forward resting his elbows on the table, his voice dropping slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

You swallowed, caught off guard. “No. Of course not.”

And it was true, wasn’t it? Lando hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.

But even as the words left your mouth, doubt crept in.

Lando smiled then, that boyish grin that had always made your heart stutter in the past, the one that made it so easy to believe that maybe this could be something real. Something right.

“I’m glad,” he said, his voice lighter now, more assured. “Because I’ve missed you. And I’m really glad we’re finally doing this.”

You smiled, sipping your wine. “Yeah, it’s nice. Kind of reminds me of when things were simpler.”

The conversation flowed easier after that, the awkwardness from earlier slipping away, replaced by something familiar. Comfortable. For the first time that night, it felt like just you and Lando again. No second-guessing, no pressure, but deep down you knew there was still that lingering uncertainty in the back of your mind.

The next evening you found Max leaning against the hotel’s outdoor railing, looking out over the city lights. He glanced up as you approached, and you saw it the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly against the metal railing.

“You okay?” you asked, coming to stand beside him.

Max let out a slow breath. “Long day.”

You hesitated before speaking. “I went out with Lando last night.”

His jaw tensed. “I know.”

You studied him for a moment, the way his expression gave nothing away, the way his shoulders seemed just a little more rigid than usual. “Going out with him again tonight?” His voice was calm.

You frowned, something about the way he asked making your stomach twist. “Yes. I thought that’s what you wanted. Isn’t this your plan?”

Max finally turned to you then, he exhaled through his nose, a humourless chuckle escaping before he shook his head. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “It was.”

“Max…”

He looked away, his fingers gripping the railing a little tighter. “Maybe it wasn’t the best idea after all.”

You blinked, taken aback by the shift in his voice, the weight behind the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Max let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly, like he was frustrated, like he was frustrated with himself more than anything else. “Forget it,” he muttered, pushing off the railing.

“No,” you countered quickly, “tell me.”

He hesitated, his gaze searching yours, but whatever he was looking for he must not have found it, because instead of answering he took a step back. “Trust me, it doesn’t matter,” he sighed, turning towards the door.

You watched him go, frustration rising in your chest. “It does matter Max,” you called after him, but he didn’t stop, didn’t turn back.

His words hung in the air between you as he walked back inside. It wasn’t like Max to admit something like that to let something slip in a way that made him sound uncertain. He was always so sure, so stubborn, so relentless in his convictions. But tonight? He had let you see it. For the first time, you weren’t sure who this plan had really been for.

His words lingered in your mind long after he’d said them.

Dinners with Lando should have felt like everything you’d been waiting for. The perfect setting, the glow of candlelight, the easy rhythm of conversation. And yet, despite it all, the way he smiled at you from across the table, the familiarity that once felt effortless, something was missing.

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t awkward. But it felt… off. Like a song played just slightly out of tune. Like you were reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore, grasping at the edges of a feeling that had already slipped through your fingers.

And worse, you couldn’t stop thinking about Max.

His easy smile, the way he always saw through you, the way he challenged you and pushed you in a way that never felt like a game. Just enough to make you feel. Just enough to make you realise that somehow he had carved out space in your life when you hadn’t even been looking. You weren’t sure when it had started, this creeping awareness, this feeling that had settled in the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored. But it was there now. Constant. Unshakable.

Sitting across from Lando you realised something that terrified you. You had outgrown the idea of him, outgrown the dream of what you thought this would be.

And yet, things didn’t get any better from there. If anything, they got worse.

Lando’s sudden attention and Max’s constant presence pulled you in opposite directions, leaving you stranded somewhere between what you had always wanted and what you had never expected to find. And then, one evening, everything came to a head.

It was after another race, the energy in the paddock still buzzing as people came and went, but you had stepped away from the noise, needing a moment to breathe when the familiar hum of certain voices caught your attention.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

But the second you recognised Max’s voice, low, tight, edged with frustration, you froze.

“You know, you’ve got a real gift for not seeing what’s right in front of you,” he said, his tone sharper than usual.

You frowned, your heart already racing as you stood up, moving closer to the edge of the doorway.

Lando’s reply was instant, defensive. “What’s your problem Max?”

Max let out a hollow laugh, sharp and humourless. “My problem?” he repeated, his voice dripping with frustration. “My problem is that you’ve had her in front of you for years, and you still can’t see her.”

Your breath caught, your body going rigid where you stood, hidden just out of sight.

There was a beat of silence, then Lando’s voice again, louder now. “What are you even talking about?”

Max scoffed, the sound filled with disbelief. “You know exactly what.” His voice was rising, the usual restraint gone. “She’s there, every race, every time you win, every time you screw up. Every time you need someone, she’s there.” His voice wavered for just a second before he pressed on, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “She’s the one who backs you up. Who understands you. Who makes excuses for you when you don’t even deserve them.”

Lando exhaled sharply, the sound more irritated than guilty. “Jesus Max you’re acting like I don’t care about her.”

Max let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t care about her. Not in the way you should.”

Lando’s voice sharpened. “And I suppose you do?”

Silence.

The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but charged, pulsing between them like the prelude to a storm.

Your stomach twisted violently, your pulse hammering in your ears.

When Max spoke again, his voice was quieter, but no less intense. “She’s incredible Lando,” he said, his frustration bleeding into something raw, something real. “She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s… beautiful.” His voice cracked slightly, like saying the words out loud was taking something from him. “And you’re too blind to see it.”

Lando was quiet for a second. "You’re being dramatic.”

Max’s voice was flat. “Am I?”

“What’s your deal man? Since when do you care so much?” Lando prodded.

There it was.

The question you had never dared to ask yourself.

“Because I…” He stopped, inhaling sharply like the words had gotten stuck somewhere in his throat. But when he spoke again, they came out hoarse, unguarded in a way you had never heard from him before. “Because maybe she deserves someone who actually sees her.” His voice was thick with something fragile. “Someone who doesn’t just notice her when she’s not there.”

Max wasn’t just arguing anymore. He wasn’t just frustrated with Lando. He was hurt.

Lando shook his head, disbelieving. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Max shot back, stepping forward now, his voice taut. “How is it fair to her? How is it fair that she’s spent years—years Lando waiting for you to notice something you never have? And now you suddenly care? Now that she’s not standing around waiting for you to decide?”

Lando opened his mouth, but Max cut him off.

“No, you don’t get to act like you’re some innocent guy in all this,” he snapped, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard it. “You don’t get to pretend you’re confused when you’ve spent this whole time taking her for granted.”

Lando’s face twisted, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

Max took another step closer. “Then tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged, voice low, dangerous. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not just doing this because she finally pulled away. Tell me that if she had never distanced herself, if she had never stopped running after you, if she never came to me, you still would’ve done something about it.”

Lando’s mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to argue, like he needed to argue.

But he didn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Max exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter now, resigned. “If you really care about her…if you actually see her like you should have a long time ago then prove it. Otherwise…” He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “Otherwise, let her go.”

Your entire body had gone numb, frozen in place as the weight of his words crashed over you.

Lando didn’t answer and you couldn’t listen anymore.

You found Max outside the paddock, walking with quick, purposeful strides, his shoulders tense like he was trying to outrun what had just happened. His head was down, his fists clenched at his sides, his usual easy confidence stripped away.

You followed him before you could think better of it, your own heart hammering in your chest, your mind racing with everything you had just overheard.

“Max,” you called, your voice unsteady.

He didn’t stop.

“Max!” you yelled.

He stumbled back a step, his eyes widening when they met yours, realisation crashing over him in real time.

Shock. Guilt. Panic.

You saw it all flash across his face before he masked it, his expression shuttering, his jaw tightening as he instinctively tried to school himself into neutrality. But his fingers curled at his sides, his shoulders rising and falling with deep, unsteady breaths.

He knew.

He knew you had heard everything.

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something, an excuse, maybe, a brush-off, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“What was that?” you demanded, breathless, your pulse still racing.

Max hesitated, and for the first time since you’d known him he looked unsure. His entire frame stiffened, his lips parting before he pressed them into a thin line, calculating his next move weighing whether to tell the truth or run from it.

Finally, he let out a breath, voice rough when he spoke. “I would never take you for granted,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I would never make you wonder where you stand. I would never make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

His eyes never left yours, as he continued. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, if he doesn’t wake up every damn day knowing how lucky he is just to exist in your orbit. If he can’t see you, if he can’t want you the way you deserve to be wanted, fully, completely, without hesitation..."

“Then maybe I can.” his next words coming out softer, but no less certain. “Because I already do.”

The world stilled.

Your breath caught, your body betraying you as warmth spread through your chest, through your limbs, through every single place Max Verstappen had ever touched in some way.

For weeks, months, you had been fighting it. Pretending it wasn’t there. Telling yourself that this was about Lando.

But standing here now, with Max looking at you like this, like you were something to be fought for you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

The days following Max’s confession were a blur of introspection and uncertainty. Lando reached out, texting, calling, sending you memes like nothing had changed, like he was trying to pull you back into the rhythm of what you’d always been.

But everything had changed.

Because every time your phone lit up with his name, your thoughts drifted to Max. The quiet strength of his presence, the way he had seen you, really seen you, long before you had even admitted it to yourself. Because for all the sniping and bickering, for all the fire and ice between you, Max had always been there. Not in the soft, obvious way Lando was, but in the way that mattered. He’d challenge you, push you, piss you off, but when it counted, when you really needed someone, Max showed up. No grand gestures, no sentimental speeches. Just him. Standing beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And eventually, you knew what you had to do.

You needed to talk to Lando. Really talk.

You found him at the track, sitting in the back of McLaren’s garage, staring at his phone like it held answers he didn’t know how to ask for. He looked up when you approached, his expression flickering with something between relief and apprehension.

“Hey,” he said, shoving his phone into his pocket. “You finally decided to stop avoiding me?”

You sighed, sliding into the seat across from him. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Oh so you just happened to stop texting back? And just happened to be everywhere except where I was?” His voice was teasing, but his expression betrayed him.

You exhaled, gripping the edge of the table as you tried to steady your emotions. “I needed space to figure things out.”

Lando’s smirk, the one he always used to defuse tension, flickered, then disappeared entirely.

“Lando,” you said cautiously, searching for the right words, unsure of how to say what needed to be said. “I care about you…I always will…but I also care about Max.”

His brows pulled together instantly. “What do you mean?” His voice wasn’t defensive, but it was careful, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

You took a steadying breath, your pulse quickening. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him this year, and somewhere along the way something changed,” you admitted, the words feeling heavier as they left your lips. “I see us all so differently now. And it’s… complicated.”

Lando’s expression shifted, his jaw tensing slightly. He blinked a few times, like he was still trying to process what you were saying. “So… you’re saying you like him?”

You hesitated, but there was no point in denying it anymore. “Yeah,” you said softly, your heart pounding. “I think I do.”

Lando leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face before exhaling slowly. His lips pressed together, his mind working through something you couldn’t quite place.

You could see it, the initial reaction he was fighting, the part of him that didn’t like it, the part that was still struggling with the idea of losing whatever the two of you had once been. For years, you had been his, his closest friend, his safe space, the person who had always been there, no matter what.

And now, you weren’t.

For a long moment he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the table, brows furrowed, jaw still clenched like he was trying to work out how he really felt about this.

“Lando?” you prompted hesitantly.

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I mean… I guess I should’ve seen this coming, right?”

You frowned. “Lando—”

“No, I mean it,” he interrupted, sitting up straighter. “You and Max…I don’t know. It makes sense, I guess.”

You searched his face, trying to gauge how much of that was genuine. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay with it.”

Lando sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not pretending.” He paused, rubbing his palms over his thighs before looking back at you. “It’s just weird you know? I got so used to you being my person, even if I was too stupid to ever do anything about it.” His lips twitched into a small, almost bitter smile. “And now you’re…his?”

You swallowed, shifting slightly in your seat. “I don’t know what I am yet.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “You two have spent years arguing about everything. I always thought you hated each other half the time.”

You let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “We do sometimes.” You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips as memories flickered through your mind. “We push each other’s buttons, we argue, we drive each other insane. But somehow…it just makes sense now.”

Lando drummed his fingers on the table, nodding slowly as he processed your words. “So what you’re saying is you like the way he pushes your buttons?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not just that.”

He smirked slightly. “But it is a little bit that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe. But it’s also the fact that he sees me. He pushes me to be better. He doesn’t let me fade into the background or sit around waiting for someone to notice me.”

Lando let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah. That sounds like Max.”

You hesitated. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“It’s not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get it.” He glanced away for a second before looking back at you, his gaze softer. “Does he make you happy?”

The question caught you off guard.

Did Max make you happy?

The thought of him alone sent warmth spreading through your chest, and you realised you were smiling before you even had the chance to answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “He does.”

Lando watched you for a long moment, then let out a short chuckle. “Then that’s it isn’t it?”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if he makes you happy, then you should go for it.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

He gave you a small, almost exasperated smile. “No, not just like that. I don’t love it, okay? I don’t love the idea…” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I’ve known Max a long time. And yeah, he can piss me off…” A smirk ghosted over his lips before fading just as quickly. “But he’s a good guy. And if he’s the one who finally made you feel seen then I can’t be mad about that. And I know that if he cares about you the way I think he does, then he’s going to treat you right.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your chest tightening.

“This might not mean much, but…” he started, voice softer now. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “For what?”

“For not being what you needed. For noticing you too late.” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if things would have been different if I had figured it out sooner, but you deserved better than waiting around for me to get my shit together.”

Your chest ached at his words, but there was no anger, no resentment just an understanding that you had both needed to reach.

“I do love you, you know,” Lando added. “Maybe not in the way you wanted. But you’ve always meant a lot to me.”

You reached across the table, squeezing his hand briefly before pulling away. “And you’ll always mean a lot to me too.”

Lando smiled then. “Just don’t let him gloat too much about this, alright?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, and for the first time in months, it didn’t feel weighed down by uncertainty.

Things between you and Lando weren’t perfect. Maybe they never would be again.

But as you sat there, sharing a smile that still felt familiar, you realised something important.

You hadn’t lost him.

And maybe you were finally allowing yourself to find something new.

You went to Max the next night, your heart pounding with every step, anticipation buzzing beneath your skin like electricity. No more waiting, no more pretending. Every nerve in your body was alight with the urgency of it, the sheer need to see him, to tell him.

The moment he opened the door you could tell something was wrong. He stood there, gripping the handle tightly, his posture tense, like he had been expecting bad news. His hair was slightly disheveled, he looked restless, unsettled, like he was carrying a weight he didn’t know how to put down.

You hesitated, swallowing hard. “Can I come in?”

Max stared at you for a second longer, as if debating whether letting you in would make this better or worse. But then, with a sigh, he stepped back, holding the door open.

You slipped inside, the air in the room heavy, thick with unspoken words. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the space, and you noticed the half-empty water bottle on the bedside table, the hotel key tossed haphazardly on the desk. It looked like he had been pacing, maybe sitting at the edge of the bed, getting up, sitting back down, as if he hadn’t been able to sit still since the last time you saw him.

Max ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly before turning back to you. “I get it,” he muttered before you could speak, voice gruff, like he had already convinced himself of the worst. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your brows furrowed. “Max—”

“No, really.” He let out a breathless, almost bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “I already know how this goes. I saw you with him yesterday at the McLaren garage.” He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re here to tell me that this was a mistake. That I got the wrong idea. That you’re choosing him.”

His words stung, not because they were true, but because he actually believed them.

Your throat tightened. “Max, that’s not—”

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” His voice was quieter now, you knew he was telling the truth, but still he was guarded, like he was preparing himself for impact. “That’s what matters.”

Something inside you cracked.

You stepped forward before you could second-guess yourself, reaching for his hand. He flinched slightly at the contact, his fingers twitching against yours, but he didn’t pull away.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Max’s brows knitted together, his body going still. “What?”

You swallowed hard, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “About seeing me, wanting me?”

For a second you saw it that flicker of hesitation, the instinct to lie, to brush it off, to save himself from whatever heartbreak he thought was coming. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something dismissive, something easy.

But he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t lie to you. Not about this. Not when it had been clawing at him for months, maybe years.

His mask slipped, the exhaustion, the frustration, the sheer weight of everything finally crashing down as he exhaled. His voice when he spoke was raw, unfiltered, like he had no choice but to lay himself bare.

“Every word,” he admitted, his gaze burning into yours. His fingers twitched against your hand, his grip tightening just slightly, as if he needed something to hold onto. “I meant every fucking word.”

You had spent so long waiting, waiting to be noticed, waiting to be chosen, waiting for something that was never going to happen. And all this time, Max had been there. Right in front of you. Seeing you in a way you had never even thought to ask for.

Relief flooded through you, mingling with something that had been building for so long, something inevitable.

Your breath came shakily, your fingers trembling slightly as the truth tumbled out before you could stop it. “I think…” You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like gravity itself. “I think I’ve been waiting for the wrong person.”

His entire body reacted, like the words had physically hit him, like he had been bracing himself for heartbreak and suddenly, inexplicably, found himself with something else entirely.

Hope.

His eyes searched yours, desperate and overwhelmed. “I didn’t plan this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand hovering near your cheek fighting against every instinct telling him to touch you. “But…I can’t pretend it isn’t real.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

It was real. It had been real for so much longer than you had even realised.

You let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. “Neither can I.”

“You mean that?” he asked.

“I mean it,” you whispered, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. “I see you now,” you breathed, voice steadier than you expected. “And I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Max’s lips parted slightly. “Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead pressing lightly against yours as his other hand settled on your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Max let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head against yours. “Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

You laughed, though it was shaky, uneven, because your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

Max’s hands flexed against you, like he was still struggling to believe this was happening. “I tried not to want this,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Tried to push it down, to ignore it, to pretend like it wasn’t tearing me apart every time I saw you waiting for him.” His grip on you tightened, his forehead pressing harder against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “But once there was even the slightest chance? Once I realised I wasn’t crazy, that maybe—maybe you could feel this too?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “There was no turning back. I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I’d never want anyone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “That it’s always been you.”

The words sent a shockwave through you, your entire body reacting before your mind could catch up. A soft breath escaped your lips as you surged forward, your hands gripping his hoodie, your mouth finding his in a kiss that was everything, all the months, years of unspoken feelings, of stolen glances, of tension neither of you had been willing to name.

Max groaned softly against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you against him like he needed you closer, like there was no air without you. He kissed you like he had been starving for this, like he had spent so long convincing himself he couldn’t have it that now, finally, he was never letting go.

You gasped against his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss, tilting his head slightly to deepen it, to savour it, to own it. His hands slid around your back, holding you flush against him, his heartbeat racing just as fast as yours.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to press his forehead to yours again, his breathing was uneven, his lips swollen from the force of it. His fingers trailed down your arms, finding your hands, lacing your fingers together, he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” you asked, grinning as you fought to steady your breathing, still feeling the ghost of his lips against yours.

Max shook his head, brushing his nose against yours. “I just…I never thought I’d get this,” he admitted, his voice lighter now.

Your heart clenched at the honesty in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were something impossible that had somehow, miraculously, become real.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “I’ve felt like this for longer than you probably realise.”

“Oh Max…”

He shook his head. “No, I need to say this.” His hands squeezed at your waist, his touch grounding, reassuring. “I used to tell myself I was just looking out for you. That I was just annoyed whenever you talked about him because I didn’t care…but the truth is I was jealous. So fucking jealous.”

His confession sent warmth flooding through your chest, making your fingers tighten in his hands.

“I’d see you standing by him, always waiting, always looking at him like he was the only one for you, and I’d tell myself that it didn’t matter. That you deserved each other.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “But I could never really believe it.”

Your throat felt tight, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Max…”

“I spent so much time telling myself you’d never see me that way,” Max continued, his voice dropping even lower, more intimate. “That even if I wanted you, even if I needed you, it didn’t matter. Because he was always the one you wanted.”

Your breath caught, the truth of it settling deep inside you.

“But then…” He smiled, just barely, like he still couldn’t believe it. “You started choosing me. It wasn’t all at once. It was little things, sticking around in my garage longer than you needed to, texting me first, showing up even when you had no reason to.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his gaze dipping down for a fraction of a second before meeting yours again. “And I realised I couldn’t just be your backup plan. I couldn’t just be the person keeping you distracted while you waited for him.”

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head just slightly into his touch. “Max…” You exhaled shakily, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “You were never just a distraction. You were never a backup plan. You—”

“I know,” he interrupted, smiling more now. “I know that now.”

His fingers brushed over your jaw, achingly gentle, his thumb traced along your cheek, making it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

“For so long, I told myself it wasn’t real. That it was just something in my head. Something I could turn off if I wanted to.”

You felt your chest tighten at the confession, at how much weight he had been carrying alone.

“But then you started pulling away from him,” Max continued, exhaling sharply, his voice almost breaking. “And I—” He shook his head, like the memory itself made him unravel. “I realised I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want you.”

“When we first made that stupid plan I thought, this is my chance to help her. I thought, if I can just get her to stop waiting around for him, maybe she’ll be happy.” He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between yours. “But I never planned for you. I didn’t think I’d be the one falling harder every second we were together.”

“You’re the one who sees me,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not just when it’s convenient, not just when I’m standing right in front of you, waiting. You see me, even when I don’t know what I want. You make me feel like I matter,” you continued, your fingers smoothing over the lines in his jaw. “Not just because I’m there, not because it’s easy, but because you choose to. Every time.”

A shaky exhale left his lips.

And you weren’t finished.

“You’ve never made me feel like I had to earn my place with you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t have to be louder, or funnier, or wait for my turn. I don’t have to prove I belong with you. I just do. You are the person who makes me feel safe, who pushes me without ever making me doubt myself. You don’t just listen, you understand. You don’t just show up, you stay.”

“And it’s not just that,” you continued, voice steadier now. “It’s the way I see you too.”

“I don’t think you even realise it,” you murmured, shaking your head slightly. “How rare you are. How brilliant you are. How you notice things before anyone else does. How your mind works so fast it’s almost unfair.” You let out a small breath of laughter, your hand still cradling his jaw. “They don’t see how funny you are, how effortless it is for you to make people laugh, even when you’re not trying. How much you care even when you pretend not to.”

Before either of you could say anything else, he kissed you again, slow and deep and certain, like he was making up for all the time he had wasted. You sighed into it, your arms winding around his neck, your body pressing into his as his hands gripped your waist, anchoring you against him.

He kissed you like you were his like you had always been his.

“I hope you know,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there, “that I’m never letting you go now.”

A wide grin broke across your face as you squeezed his hands in return. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Max let out a laugh, one full of relief, full of joy, full of you. He kissed you again, and again, and again, each one lighter, each one full of laughter, all full of something so impossibly right.

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)❞

a/n: almost four hundred followers omg.. i love all you freaks mwah!! here is part two as promised. included some requests for characters. aged up! megumi and yuji of course. might do a part three maybeeee? afab body w/no gendered language as usual.

part one.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he thinks of it as memorabilia. snatching your panties from the floor before you have the chance to put them back on- just something he keeps to remember you bye.

▸ daddy kink. we all saw this coming, right? you call him daddy once and it's all he needs to fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night.

▸ thigh riding. seeing you frotting against his large thigh, desperate to cum, pussy practically drooling for it... his favorite foreplay 100%.

▸ cum play. this man will cum anywhere and everywhere and he'll love it. let him cum on your face, your ass, your chest, your back, down your throat, etc etc.

▸ hatefucking. angry sex after an argument where he takes out all of the stress you caused him on your poor holes :(

▸ breeding. you can give him another baby, can't you? you can make him a daddy all over again, right? just let him cum inside of you as much as he wants, he'll make it happen, he swears.

▸ exhibitionism. you grind against him once on the bar floor and next thing you know he's dragging out to the empty alleyway and pressing you against the nearest wall.

▸ size difference. he's so large, so big, every single part of him practically overtaking you. and he gets off on that fact so fucking hard!!

. *. ⋆ NANAMI KENTO

▸ cockwarming. seating himself inside your warm pussy while he's stuck doing all kinds of boring paperwork. he'll fuck you, he swears, you just gotta sit pretty on his lap for a little bit, okay?

▸face fucking. he loves taking out all of his stress on you. gripping your hair as he uses your mouth mercilessly, bullying his cock down the back of your tight throat.

▸blindfolding. silk ribbons in a variety of colors that he matches to the underwear you're modeling for him. only the best for his lover <3

▸ thigh riding. there's no better way to put him in the mood than pathetically grinding yourself against his thigh, using his body selfishly for your own pleasure.

▸ hair pulling. y'all know that one scene... he pulls at your hair exactly like that. fingers going white with how tight he's tugging at you, manipulating your position until you're face to face with his scowl.

▸ spanking. makes you count for every slap and if you miscount, he's starting all over again. pay better attention to him next time, yeah?

▸ semi-public. yes, he will bend you right over his desk, no he doesn't care there's a meeting going on next door. or better yet, against the window of the fourth floor, overlooking the busy street below it.

▸ phone sex. it really isn't any problem that he's across the country on a mission. even just the sound of your whines over the phone is enough to get him off.

. *. ⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he would say he feels bad about it, but he doesn't. you looked so good in the lacey little things, he can't help but want to keep them for later. even has his own little drawer for them.

▸ masochism. the stinging pain of your nails running down his back is utterly euphoric. and don't get him started on how harshly you tug at his hair when he's eating you out- he can cum in his boxers just from that alone.

▸ breast play. massaging at the skin, feeling the plumpness under his fingertips. sucking at your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. he's obsessed.

▸ edging. leaving you just on the brink of release over and over again, until tears are streaming down your face. he'll let you cum eventually, you just look so pretty this worked up for him.

▸ marking. oh my goddd do not get megumi started on this. he doesn't know why it gets him so worked up- seeing you covered in the hickeys and bite marks that he's left on you- but it does.

▸ cunnilingus. eats you out like a man starved, like he'll never eat you out again. pulling him away from your poor pussy is next to impossible if he's not yet done with his meal.

▸ mutual masturbation. sometimes you both just need to relaxation of release and nothing more. sitting across from each other on the bed, or maybe side by side, listening to the moans of the other as you both touch yourselves.

▸ dacryphilia. like adoptive father like adopted son. seeing your eyes brim with tears from how good he's fucking you drives him crazy.

. *. ⋆ YUJI ITADORI

▸ ass play. we all know he's an ass man i mean come on?! doggy style is his favorite position just because of it. seeing how the fat of your ass moves with every slap of his hips is fucking addicting.

▸ praise kink. tell him how good he's fucking you and how much of a good boy he is pleaseeee!!!!

▸ toys. he didn't realize how much he would love bringing toys into the bedroom until he sees how hard you can cum around him while he holds a vibrator to your clit.

▸ raw sex. he knows it's stupid, fucking you with no protection. you're pussy just feels so good, so warm, he needs to fuck you raw.

▸ face riding. please sit on his face, suffocate him, he doesn't care. it's his favorite position to eat you out.

▸ overstimulation. poor baby doesn't even mean to overstimulate you half of the time- he just has so much stamina, you understand that, right? and seeing you so flushed and fucked out under him has him so horny. just one more round, yeah? you can do that for him, right?

▸ dirty talk. yuji is a yapper and that doesn't stop when he's fucking you. the filth that comes out of his mouth has you wet just thinking about it.

▸ dry humping. the tension, the intimacy, the panting, the friction?? all of it, it's like a drug to him.