#also yes i did get a lot of prompts lakjdsflaks

[nyoomfruits]

always always kudos to your writing those recent ones are so cute and lovely ❤️❤️💙💙

can't wait for the magic helmet au and a programler max au ?? Wahh color me excited

if you're still accepting requests from the prompt clichés -> zipping up their dress race suit?

i don't even need you to write it just some thoughts if you want (maybe you got a lot of prompts idk) but i saw the prompt and mind just went !!!!!

thank you so much ;-; if everything goes according to plan i should finish the magic helmet au either today or tomorrow!!!! so get ready for that somewhere in the upcoming days :D the programmer au will probably take considerably longer because i keep adding plot points and ideas to it lmao. anyway!!! idk if this is what you wanted for the prompt but its where my brain went so!!!!! i hope you enjoy :)

The pictures leak on a Saturday evening, right before a race. Charles can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of cosmic justice for being reckless, careless, for thinking no one would catch him making out with that guy at a party a few weeks ago.

There’s really no denying it. It’s clearly him, and it’s clearly him kissing another guy. Ferrari’s PR team is in shambles, his own management is scrabbling to get some kind of public statement ready before the race, and the whole time Charles just feels like he’s floating through it all.

They manage to smuggle him in through the back, so he doesn’t have to speak to any press before the race, and he keeps his head held high as he makes his way through the garage towards the cars on track, trying desperately not to pay attention to the stares and whispers that follow him.

No one tries to talk to him, and he’s not sure if that’s a bad thing, or if they’re just trying to give him space. No matter the intention, all it does is make him feel alone.

He always knew he was going to have to come out at some point, impossible to hide forever in today’s day and age of phones and social media, but he always thought he would be able to do it on his own terms. Not to have the rug pulled from under him like this.

His hands are shaking, and he’s struggling to pull the zipper of his race suit back up. He can feel tears stinging in the corner of his eyes, knowing all eyes are on him, knowing everyone is seeing the effects all of this has on him. He’s about to give up, about to say ‘fuck it all’ and just go home, when there’s suddenly hands on his, gently prying them away from the zipper.

“Hi,” Max says, taking the zipper from Charles and slowly doing it up. “How are you holding up?”

And Max. Max is just smiling at him, in that same soft gentle way he always does, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Charles feels a weight fall of his shoulders. “Terribly,” he says, because he knows Max values honesty, and there’s not point in hiding, not for him.

Max hums, lets his hands linger at the throat of Charles’s race suit for a bit. “You’ll get through it,” he says, voice so sure, so certain. “You always do.”

Charles can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Max.”

“Anytime,” Max says, and his left hand moves to Charles’s shoulder, squeezes lightly, before letting go and stepping away. “Have a good race,” he says, smiling that small, private little smile he seems to reserve for Charles.

“You too,” Charles says, staring after Max as he walks back to his team.

It’s a weight off his shoulders, knowing that Max will still treat him like he always does. That nothing much has really changed. Suddenly, the stares of the people around him feels less suffocating, less all consuming.

Max is right. He’ll get through this.