⭑ When In Rome ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter One)

Forced | Max Verstappen Ver

WC: 22.2K

Max x reader

Summery: Jos made a deal years ago that he can't get out of, and Max is the one to see it through.

Warning ⚠️: abuse(mental, physical), a little naive reader, slight ptsd, eating disorder implied, depression and suicidal thoughts, mention of parent death, family abandment, cursing, Jos being an ahole, injuries

AN: Dark one. Read the warnings.

SAT THERE EDITING SINCE THE RACE JUST SO I COULD GET IT OUT TODAY!!

Masterlist

Max Verstappen

Charles Ver., Carlos Ver.

How he ended up here was a mystery to Max, but here he was, sitting in a private room at some overpriced restaurant, his father on one side and a stranger across from him. Across from him sat the man he only knew as Mr Wilkins, his sharp eyes practically dissecting Max with every glance.

Max prided himself on being observant. He noticed the little things, the subtle shifts in behaviour, the unspoken tells. And tonight, Jos Verstappen was a man he barely recognised. His father, usually so confident and composed, was jittery, avoiding Max’s gaze, his hands restless against the polished table. Jos had been skittish for days, dodging every question Max had thrown at him. And now, this.

“Have you told him?” Wilkins’s voice cut through the tension, cool and unwavering. His question was directed at Jos, but it hit Max like a stone.

Max glanced at his father, his stomach twisting, this is what his dad has been dodging all week. “Told me what?”

Jos’s gaze fell to the table. He didn’t answer.

“I see you haven’t.” Wilkins said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Looks like I’ll have to do it myself.”

Jos shifted uncomfortably, his hand reaching for his glass of water but stopping halfway. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?” He asked, his voice low and almost pleading.

Max froze. Pleading? Jos Verstappen didn’t beg. Not for anyone. Wilkins, however, remained unmoved, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

“You knew the price all those years ago.” His tone was ice-cold, unyielding.

 “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Max’s patience snapped, his voice cut through the room, loud enough to draw attention if there had been anyone else around. Wilkins chuckled, clearly amused by Max’s agitation.

“Relax, Mr Verstappen.” He said smoothly, as if the situation was nothing more than a business transaction. “You’re about to receive some… life-changing news.”

Max didn’t relax. He braced himself, his instincts screaming that whatever was coming next would flip his world upside down.

“I’m sorry.” Jos’s voice was barely a whisper, and when Max turned to him, his father’s face was pale, his eyes fixed on the table.

“Well, congratulations are in order.” Wilkins announced, his smirk widening. “You’re a groom.”

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the room. Max blinked; certain he’d misheard.

“A groom?” He laughed, but it was hollow, a sharp bark of disbelief. He pointed at himself. “Me? You must be joking.”

 “Oh, I assure you, I’m quite serious.” Wilkins’s expression didn’t waver. Max’s laughter died instantly. His body stiffened, his hands curling into fists on the table.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not even seeing anyone!” He turned sharply to his father, his voice rising. “What is he saying? What’s going on? And what did you do?”

Jos flinched, his hand shaking as he reached for his son. “L-look, Max, I-I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did.” Wilkins leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as if settling in for a long story. “Let me make this simple, since it’s clear your father hasn’t explained. Many years ago, Jos and I made a deal. I did him a favour, quite a significant one, might I add, and now it’s time for him to repay it.” Wilkins slid a crisp document across the table. Max barely glanced at it. His glare was fixed on the man who’s trying to upend his life. “My business is failing.” Wilkins continued smoothly. “And I need investors. Your father, with his connections and not to mention his three-time world champion son, can help me secure them. And what better way to cement that relationship than a marriage?”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Max’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to keep his voice steady.

“Everything.” Wilkins said, his eyes gleaming. “Because you, Max, are the key to this entire arrangement. And let’s be honest, you’d do anything to protect your father, wouldn’t you?”

The insinuation hit like a slap. Max’s gaze darted to his father, whose face crumbled under the weight of guilt.

“I don’t get it,” Max muttered. “What could you possibly have over him?”

Wilkins’s smirk turned razor-sharp. “Oh, I have plenty. How about the fact that Jos embezzled money to secure his career in Formula 1? Or that he cheated his way into a few deals? One word from me, and the media would have a field day. And prison? Well, Jos knows what that’s like already, doesn’t he?”

Max’s stomach churned. He pushed back his chair, the screech of metal against wood cutting through the tension. Grabbing his phone, he stood, his movements sharp and final.

“I’m not doing this.” He said, his voice firm, resolute.

“Max, wait!” Jos half-rose from his chair, grabbing his son’s arm. “Please, just… think about it. Please.”

Max wrenched his arm free, his glare slicing through his father’s desperation. “Think about what? Selling myself off like some business transaction? No.”

“It’ll be good for your image,” Jos added hastily, his tone desperate. “And Wilkins’s daughter—she’s beautiful. Maybe just… meet her. Talk to her.”

Max’s head snapped towards Wilkins, his eyes narrowing. “Your daughter? You’re offering her up like some bargaining chip?” He scoffed, the disgust in his tone cutting deep.

Wilkins shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Believe me, she’ll be happy. And I know she’ll make you happy.”

Max’s gaze flicked between the two men. His father looked like he was on the verge of breaking, while Wilkins appeared positively delighted with himself. The chaos fuelled him; it was written all over his face.

Max exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it.” he said finally, his tone clipped. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, ignoring the sound of his father pleading with Wilkins behind him.

Max went back to his house, the penthouse he shared with his cats. His mind was swirling with emotions and ideas. There must be another way, there had to be. How could they expect him to marry someone he’d never met before? They were acting as if it was as easy as picking up groceries.

His phone pinged with a notification.

It was from his dad. Clicking on their chat, Max barely glanced at the attached picture of you before reading the text below it:

He gave us one week before you have to get married.

Max cursed under his breath and threw his phone, watching as it clattered against the floor, startling his cats.

The week crawled by painfully. It took Jos a few days to show up at Max’s door, trying to convince him. Jos pleaded, guilt-tripping Max at every opportunity. He even showed Max your Instagram profile, scrolling through pictures and pointing out that you weren’t a forever commitment—that marriage didn’t mean he had to be faithful. Jos insisted that Max could continue living his life as usual.

In the end, it wasn’t the arguments or assurances that drove Max to the courthouse; it was the love he had for his father.

Max sat stiffly in front of the officiant’s office, dressed in a blazer, a white shirt, and jeans. He refused to dress up more than that for what felt like a mockery of a commitment. Jos sat beside him, restless, while Max’s thoughts churned. The clock ticked away, but you and your father were nowhere to be seen.

Max glared at the door. Power play, he thought bitterly. Being late was a way to assert control, to make them wait, to show who was in charge.

When Wilkins finally arrived, his booming voice preceded him, pulling Max out of his thoughts.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Max stood without sparing a glance at the group, opened the door to the officiant’s office, and walked in.

You entered moments later, your smile soft but strained when your eyes met Jos’s. Wilkins’s hand gripped your arm tightly as he led you inside, his fingers digging into your skin. You kept your head high and your posture straight, despite the discomfort. When he lets go, you instinctively rubbed your arm but quickly stopped, aware of everyone’s eyes.

Max didn’t look up. He sat rigidly in his seat, staring at the officiant, his jaw set.

“I won’t take long.” The officiant began, sliding a paper in front of Max. He’s clearly paid by your dad. Max grabbed the pen and signed without hesitation, not sparing you a glance. When the paper was passed to you, your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the pen. You signed where indicated, your expression composed, but there was a flicker of hesitation before each stroke.

“Good, nice and easy. Now exchange the rings.” The officiant said.

Max hadn’t brought rings. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jos, however, handed him a pair of simple bands, evidently having planned for this.

Max took a steadying breath and turned to you. His gaze faltered for a moment. He hadn’t expected this. You were... breathtaking.

For a moment, he hated that it mattered.

The smile you wore didn’t waver, though it was faint and polite, not reaching your eyes. Max took your hand. Your fingers felt fragile in his grip, trembling slightly, yet he didn’t notice the faint pressure marks on your skin from Wilkins’s grip earlier. He just slid the ring on, his movements mechanical.

You took his hand with quiet care, slipping the ring onto his finger with the same delicate precision, avoiding his gaze. When it was done, Max pulled his hand back quickly, rising from his seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Wilkins’s voice was sharp. Max froze mid-step, his shoulders tense. “You forgot your wife.” Max turned slowly, glaring at Wilkins. His father’s chuckle grated against his nerves. “You didn’t think just signing papers was enough, did you? You’ll take my daughter with you.”

Wilkins placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, making you flinch slightly before quickly composing yourself. Your smile shrank further, barely there.

Max’s eyes flicked to you. Your white dress clung to your frame, the heels on your feet absurdly high. You looked... smaller somehow, standing next to your father.

“Come on, then.” Max said brusquely, turning and heading for the door.

Wilkins leaned down, whispering something in your ear. You nodded quickly, not daring to respond aloud. You hurried after Max, your footsteps soft but purposeful.

Outside, Max’s car—a sleek Aston Martin DBS—waited. You moved to the passenger side without a word, glancing briefly at Max as you settled into the seat. Your hands rested in your lap, clutching your handbag tightly.

The drive to his penthouse was suffocatingly silent. Max glanced at you occasionally. You sat stiffly, your head slightly bowed, offering no conversation. By the time you arrived, Max began to wonder if you ever spoke at all.

Inside the penthouse, Max’s cats greeted him with meowing and weaving around his legs. He crouched to pet them, finding brief solace in their presence.

When he stood, you were still by the door, shoes off, holding them neatly in one hand. Your other hand gripped the strap of your handbag, knuckles pale.

“I’ll show you the guest bedroom,” Max said.

“Thank you.” Your voice was soft, measured, almost hesitant.

Max frowned. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the sound of your voice caught him off guard. It was far more subdued than he’d imagined.

You followed him quietly, your movements careful, as though unsure of your place in this space. You take a 360 degree look before your eyes fall back on Max.

“There’s a bathroom attached. If you need anything, let me know,” Max said as he stood at the doorway.

“Thank you.” Your response was the same, polite but distant.

Max closed the door behind him and leaned against it briefly, exhaling. You were too calm, too composed. It unsettled him. You weren’t angry or demanding. You weren’t protesting or pushing back.

That left only one possibility. You wanted this.

And Max despised you for it.

You sat on the bed in the guest room, unsure of what to do with yourself. The room was luxurious, similar to your bedroom back home, a little homier though. Looking around, your eyes landed on the large windows.

Walking over, you pulled back the sheer curtains and opened the window slightly. A salty breeze wafted in, carrying the faint hum of the city below. There were no buildings obstructing the view, just the harbour and the vast expanse of sea. The sight was breathtaking, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.

Your fingers twitched, an old habit resurfacing—a need to occupy yourself. But there was nothing to do. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves. You were in a stranger’s home, married to a man you didn’t know.

Last week, your life had been structured to the minute. You’d had your schedule, your tasks, your carefully planned routine dictated by your father. Now, there was nothing. No orders. No tasks. You bit at your nail beds, the nervous habit making a quiet comeback as you sat back down on the bed.

The hours dragged by. At some point, you lay down on top of the covers, staring out the window. The sky shifted from blue to orange as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Hunger gnawed at you occasionally, but you didn’t dare leave the room.

Max had gone about his day as if nothing had changed. He’d spent time on the simulator, played a few rounds online with friends, and entertained his cats. For a moment, it was easy to forget you existed.

It wasn’t until he was sitting on the sofa, scratching Sassy behind her ears, that he noticed the wedding band on his finger. The sight brought him back to reality. His eyes narrowed as he realised, he hadn’t heard a sound from the guest room all day.

“Ridiculous.” he muttered, standing abruptly. He hesitated for a moment outside your door before knocking lightly.

When there was no immediate response, Max opened the door to find you sitting up on the bed, your dress slightly wrinkled and your legs tucked beneath you. You blinked at him, startled.

“I was—” Max cleared his throat, his eyes flicking over you briefly before settling on your face. “I’m ordering food. What do you want?”

“Anything.” You replied softly, your voice timid and polite.

Max’s jaw tightened. Of course, he thought bitterly. The perfect act.

He scoffed and left, the door closing behind him with more force than necessary.

When the food arrived half an hour later, Max knocked on your door again.

“Food’s ready.” He said flatly, turning and walking back to the dining area.

You emerged hesitantly, following the faint sound of Max unpacking containers. He placed a box in front of your spot at the table before sitting down with his own.

You opened the box to find a chicken pasta dish with a side of garlic bread. The sight made you pause, your brows furrowing slightly.

“What?” Max asked, catching the look on your face. “You don’t like pasta?”

Quickly, you schooled your expression into a neutral smile. “No, I like it. Thank you.”

Max narrowed his eyes, noting the sudden shift in your demeanour, but said nothing.

The meal passed in near silence, punctuated only by the occasional clink of cutlery. Max finished his food quickly, while you ate slowly, taking small, measured bites, just like you were taught. When he set his fork down, you did the same, despite having barely finished a third of your meal.

Gathering your food containers, you stood and asked quietly, “Which way is the kitchen?”

Max pointed in the direction, watching as you disappeared briefly. You returned a moment later to collect his empty containers.

Max was perplexed by your actions; you haven’t been there for 12 hours and you’re already confusing him.

From the dining room, Max could hear the sound of water running, followed by the opening and closing of cabinets. When you returned, he sighed and stood.

“I’ll show you around.” He said curtly.

You followed silently as he walked through the penthouse, pointing out the various rooms. The tour ended at the door to your guest room. Taking that as your cue, you nodded politely and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you.

The next morning, you woke early, unsure of what to do. You slipped your strapless bra back on, skipping your underwear, and pulled your dress from the day before over your head. It was wrinkled but all you had.

When you ventured out, you found Max in the living room, scrolling through his phone. At the sound of your soft throat-clearing, he looked up.

His eyes swept over you briefly, taking in the rumpled dress and your heels. “Getting married again today?” he asked, his tone dry.

 “Sorry. I... I don’t have any of my clothes with me.” You flinched slightly but forced a small smile.

Max stared at you for a moment, realisation dawning. He hadn’t considered that you’d arrived with only your handbag.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Without another word, he disappeared into his bedroom, returning a moment later with a plain shirt and a pair of shorts. “These don’t fit me. You can wear them.” He said, holding them out to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, taking the clothes and retreating to your room. When you emerged a few minutes later, you were wearing his oversized shirt and shorts, which hung loosely on you.

For some reason, Max found himself staring. You looked better in his clothes, he thought absently, before shaking the thought away.

“Can I go out for a bit?” You asked hesitantly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Max replied, already turning back to his phone.

While you were out, Max got a call from one of his friends, inviting him to meet up for the day. He took off his wedding ring and left the apartment. He forgot about the rough week he’d been having and went out to eat and relax with his group of friends. It wasn’t until around 8 p.m. that he headed home.

As he reached his floor, the automatic lights flickered on, revealing your figure slumped against the front door. You were sleeping with shopping bags scattered around you, still in his clothes, his shorts slid up showing your legs, just like the dress did, and your heels discarded by your side.

Max scoffed, walking past you and unlocking his door without a word. He glanced back at you, deliberating for a moment. Should he leave you there? Or wake you up?

Before he could decide, Jimmy sidestepped him and jumped onto you, his head diving straight into one of the bags. That was enough to stir you awake. You jolted up, confused and disoriented, clearly not remembering when you’d fallen asleep.

"Jimmy! Come here," Max called, clicking his tongue. The cat ignored him, making Max sigh in annoyance. He looked down at you—those wide, innocent eyes staring up at him—and felt an unfamiliar mix of irritation and concern.

"Get inside," he said firmly.

You scrambled to your feet, still groggy, grabbing your bags and shoes, but not before Max noticed something red flash from the corner of his eye. He didn’t focus on it, though.

“My dad said your things would arrive in the next couple of days.” Max added casually, as if it was just another piece of information. You paused, turning to him.

"Uh, okay." You muttered in response, quickly retreating to your room.

Max narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. He was trying to be polite, trying to make things work. Here he was asking his dad about your things, all he got was that meek “okay.”

He closed the door behind you, then went to feed his cat.

He didn’t hear or see you for the rest of the day.

Two days later, two suitcases arrived. You rolled them to your room and opened them with a mix of dread and resignation. Inside were clothes you hadn’t bought and wouldn’t have chosen for yourself. But they were all designer brands, the kind of things you could sell if you needed the money.

You didn’t want to think about it, but you knew you had no choice. You had to get by somehow.

The week went by with Max either going out, working or gaming. You spent all day in your room, but you had seen Max’s nutritionist’s list he had left in the kitchen one day. Seeing the food he’s supposed to eat, all of it you could make. You memorized his food schedule and started preparing his meals, waking up earlier than him, just to make sure everything was ready. By lunchtime, the smell of food would fill the apartment, but Max never caught sight of you. He never heard you.

The first couple of days in his house missed with your sleeping schedule, so you’re awake way before he does, you memorised when he usually wakes up. So, he’d find food ready for him.

Days stretched on endlessly. You passed the time by reading the few books in your room, but there was no TV, no distractions. You stayed in your room, alone, only leaving to prepare Max’s meals or feed the cats. They started to visit you more often, meowing at your door, and you’d let them in. It made the days a little less lonely, even if the fear never really went away.

Despite everything, it was still better than your life in Switzerland. Better than the life your father had forced upon you.

One day, the doorbell rang. Max was engrossed in his simulator, the headset muffling the sound entirely. After the fourth ring, you hesitantly left your room to see who it could be. Half-asleep, you padded into the living room, noticing Max still focused on his sim in the corner.

Opening the door, you froze as your heart plummeted. Standing there was your father.

"Did someone come?" Max called out from the living room, removing his headset. You shrank back, taking a few steps away from your father. Max rounded the corner, his sharp eyes darting between your pale face and the men at the door. “What are you two doing here?” He demanded, his tone already hard.

“We came to talk about what comes next.” Your father replied, his voice steady but full of implication. Max stepped closer, his presence solid and unmoving beside you. Unconsciously, you edged backward, positioning yourself slightly behind him as if to shield yourself. Max noticed your movement but didn’t say anything—not yet.

“Next? What next? We’re married.” Max shot back, crossing his arms. His posture was sharp, shoulders broad, making him look even more imposing.

“Yes, but how will I get investors if no one sees you two together?” Your father raised a brow, his gaze flitting to you. You froze under his scrutiny, feeling as though the floor might give way beneath you. His eyes moved past you into the house.  “Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Your father stepped forward, but Max immediately blocked his path, his stance rigid and unyielding.

“That’s not happening.” Max said through gritted teeth. “And neither is whatever scheme you’re planning. Now piss off will you.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into a sharper tone. “Listen here, boy—”

Max cut him off, stepping closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “No, you listen. I married your daughter. That’s the deal. How you get your investors is your problem, not ours. You don’t come here. You don’t ask us for anything.”

Your father’s eyes darted toward you again, making you whimper softly. The sound was barely audible, but Max caught it instantly. He shifted, positioning himself fully in front of you, effectively blocking you from view.

“Your daughter is mine. She’s my wife now. You gave her to me—your choice, your consequences,” Max growled. His words were deliberate, cutting.

Your father’s expression darkened as he leaned closer. “I can still expose your father.” He threatened.

Max’s gaze flickered to Jos for a moment before refocusing. He felt the faint tug on his shirt where your fingers clutched the fabric, trembling. Whatever hesitation he had vanished entirely.

“Then do it.” Max bit out, his voice cold and venomous. “Expose him. And when it all falls apart, you’ll suffer just as much as him.”

Without giving your father, a chance to respond, Max slammed the door in their faces.

The moment the latch clicked, your hand released his shirt, and you took a shaky step back. Max was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm himself.

“I’ll have to talk to security about keeping them out.” He muttered, his voice low.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, barely audible.

Max turned to you, his eyes softening despite himself. You were on the verge of tears, and it was written all over your face.

“It’s not your fault,” Max said, his tone gentler than you’d ever heard it before.

Before the tears could spill, you turned and hurried to your room. His cats trailed after you, their tails swishing curiously. Max stood there for a moment, staring after you, wondering when his pets had gotten so attached to you.

In your room, you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers tightly around you as emotions overwhelmed you. Seeing your father again stirred everything you had tried to suppress. This was the longest you’d ever been away from him. Even when he was on business trips, his presence loomed over you through cameras and speakers. If you stepped out of line, even slightly, his voice would thunder through the house, ensuring you never forgot he was watching.

No one had ever stepped up for you. The staff in your father’s home were emotionless, stoic—just following orders. No one had ever comforted you, protected you, or even looked at you with kindness.

But today, Max had stood up for you. Max, who barely tolerated your existence, had blocked your father and shielded you. Max who has no idea what kind of relationship you have with your father. Maybe it was out of anger or frustration with the situation, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, someone had been in your corner.

The realization hit you like a wave, and the tears came. You sobbed quietly, your body shaking under the covers. The loneliness is killing you, why are you even living, what do you do in your day, no one will miss you if you’re gone. You tried not to think such dark thoughts but times like this you couldn’t help it.

The cats jumped onto the bed, circling you. Sassy licked your face, her rough tongue brushing away some of the tears. You patted her head softly, whispering a thank-you under your breath. Maybe they’d miss you if you were gone.

The next morning, Max was by the door, bags packed for two weeks of racing. The apartment was eerily silent—something he usually didn’t mind. But after hearing you cry last night, the quiet felt heavy.

He’d paced in his room for hours, debating whether to check on you. Max might not like you, but he wasn’t heartless. He hated hearing anyone cry, especially women. When he finally decided to go to your door, the sobs had slowed, and he didn’t want to risk waking you.

Now, standing by the door, he hesitated again. Eventually, he knocked softly.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be gone for two weeks.” He said, his voice awkward but trying.

There was silence for a moment before your muffled voice came through. “Okay. Thank you.” It cracked on the last syllable, heavy with sadness. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Max replied, lingering for a second before leaving. He didn’t know what else to say, but he couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest.

Max had thought about you more than he’d like to admit. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, no matter how much he tried to push them away. He didn’t like you, he knew next to nothing about you. Yet, somehow, he felt much less dislike toward you now. The truth gnawed at him: he barely knew you. Still, he’d left you in his home with his cats and had lived with you for over a week before heading to the race.

For once, Max couldn’t wait to get home. He was the first out of the paddock, the first on the plane, and the first off it when they landed. By the time he walked into the house, it was nighttime. The air inside was cool and still, the lights turned off, and the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound.

Jimmy and Sassy came trotting out from somewhere, nuzzling into him in greeting. Max bent down to stroke them absently, his mind already drifting. He headed to the kitchen for a drink, opening the fridge. Frowning, he pulled out a bottle of water. Everything inside was exactly as he’d left it—nothing had changed. No empty shelves, no dishes used. The realization unsettled him.

Max closed the fridge and moved to the pantry, only to find the same: untouched, just as it had been before.

A strange thought crept in, and his chest tightened as he turned on his heel, heading to your room. Your door was slightly ajar, and alarm bells went off in his mind. You always kept it closed.

“Y/N?” He called softly, knocking lightly before pushing it open.

The room was eerily tidy. The bed was made with military precision, the same way his mother liked to do it. Nothing was out of place, nothing personal added. It was as if no one had lived in it at all. Max’s heartbeat quickened as panic set in. Where were you?

He searched the house—your bathroom, the laundry room, even his own bedroom. You weren’t there. Finally, he ended up in the living room, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

Jimmy meowed loudly, trotting toward the terrace door, which was slightly ajar. Max frowned and followed him, pushing the door open wider.

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

You were lying on the floor of the terrace, flat on your back, eyes closed. Sassy was curled up next to you, and Jimmy padded over to join her. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Max thought the worst.

“Y/N?” His voice wavered as he rushed over, dropping to his knees beside you. “Y/N?” He repeated, louder this time, hands hovering over you as though afraid to touch. “Are you okay?”

He shook you gently, then harder when you didn’t respond. “Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open with a sharp gasp, and you bolted upright—right into Max’s forehead.

“Fuck!” He groaned, clutching his head as you did the same.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, reaching for him instinctively. “I didn’t mean to—are you okay?”

Max glared at you, rubbing the sore spot. “I should be asking you that. Why the hell were you sleeping out here?”

You looked away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I wanted to see the stars.”

“In your pyjamas? On the floor? It’s freezing, Y/N!” His exasperation was palpable, but there was a hint of something else beneath it—concern.

You bit your lip, nodding, wishing you could disappear. “I’m sorry.”

Max sighed heavily, standing and extending a hand to help you up. “Come inside before you get sick.”

In the kitchen, under the bright lights, Max finally got a good look at you. You looked exhausted—darker circles under your eyes than before, your frame thinner, your movements sluggish. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was deeply wrong.

“Here.” You placed an ice pack wrapped in a towel against his forehead, your fingers brushing his skin lightly. Max caught the faint scent of lavender and something softer, uniquely you.

“I’m fine,” He muttered, gently taking the ice pack from you. “But you should have one too.”

You hesitated before nodding, fetching another ice pack for yourself. As you pressed it to your own forehead with a quiet hiss, Max leaned against the counter, studying you.

“Why didn’t you eat any of the food in the fridge?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes widened in panic. “I didn’t touch anything, I swear—” Your hands falling to your side brining the pack with you.

“Don’t put it down.” Your hands flew back up. “I know you didn’t,” Max interrupted, his tone softer now. “That’s the problem. What have you been eating?”

“I buy my own food.” You mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. Everything you do and say just confuses him more.

Max frowned. “And you don’t put it in the fridge?”

“I did.” You said quickly. “I just… ran out.”

His brow furrowed further. “You don’t eat anything from my food?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

Max stared at you, his chest tightening. “So, let me get this straight: you cooked meals for me, but you didn’t make anything for yourself because you didn’t want to use my food? Seriously, Y/N, what have you been eating?”

“Yeah.” You said it like it was obvious, you then hesitated. “I managed… Do you not want me to cook for you anymore?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Max sighed. “I’m saying you can cook yourself food while cooking for me.”

“But…” You trail off feeling embarrassed of what you have to say.

“What? Tell me.” Max said and you meet his eyes for a second before you look at the floor.

“Your food is expensive; I don’t have a lot of money.” You mumble and chew at your lip. Max stands there in silence, he knew your dad is going bankrupt but not enough to not have money.

“Your cards are empty?” Max asked, his tone a bit cold. It wasn’t directed or because of you, but the more he finds out about your dad the more agitated he gets.

“I uh, I don’t have a card.” You admit and put the ice pack on the counter, you try to escape the kitchen and this conversation.

“Wait.” You stop in your tracks and turn to face Max, knowing there’s no escaping this now. “What else are you hiding from me? How have you been paying for your food, and you went shopping on your first day?”

His eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced by your words, and your mind flashed back to that first week in Monaco, just after you arrived.

You had left the apartment, the weight of Max’s indifferent nod still heavy on your shoulders. Monaco was unfamiliar, but you’d lived in many countries—surely you could figure it out.

Walking into the first jewellery shop you found, you approached the counter with a timid smile. The attendant greeted you warmly.

Italic is French

“Bonjour, madame, how can I help you?”

You hesitated before asking, “Do you buy jewellery?”

The woman’s friendly smile faltered. “I’m sorry, madame. We don’t.”

“That’s alright, thank you.” You murmured, retreating quickly.

The next three shops were the same story, the polite rejections wearing away at your resolve. By the fourth, a kind attendant told you there weren’t any jewellery shops in the area that would buy second-hand pieces, but she gave you directions to one on the other side of the city.

Following her directions, you trudged through unfamiliar streets, the cobblestones cruel to your feet in towering heels. The mismatched outfit you got from Max, drawing unwanted attention and making the walk even more uncomfortable.

Finally, you reached the shop and stepped inside, relief washing over you.

“Bonjour, madame. How can I assist you?” The girl behind the counter asked with a professional smile.

“Do you buy jewellery?”

“Yes, we do. What are you looking to sell?”

You exhaled deeply, reaching up to remove the Tiffany Victoria stud earrings from your ears. “These.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she took them. “T-These?”

“Yes. Can you pay in cash?” This just got weirder for the girl, you bit your bottom lip, your smile is now gone. “Look, my-uh, my dad cut me off, I just need money to get by.”

The girl’s expression shifted from confusion to concern as she glanced at you. “Um… I’ll see what I can do. Please, sit down.”

You sank into a chair, your nerves fraying. you sat chewing on your nail bed, feeling nervous. When the girl returned, she wasn’t alone. A man accompanied her, likely the manager or owner.

“Ilaria tells me you want to sell these earrings.” He began, holding them up to inspect.

“Yes, please.”

His brow furrowed.

“Madame, these are worth over 27,000 Euros. Unfortunately, we don’t carry that much cash on hand.” You deflated, the man now knew what Ilaria was talking about, he feels bad for you, he glanced at your wedding ring and wonders what kind of husband you have that left you selling your belongings for money. “However, I can offer you 5,000 Euros immediately and pay the rest in instalments, or when the earrings sell. Does that work for you?”

You nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you.”

The man typed up a quick agreement on his laptop, printing it out for you both to sign. With the cash in hand, you left the shop feeling lighter, though the weight of what you’d done lingered.

The thrift store you passed on the way had looked promising, but once inside, you realised even second-hand items in Monaco carried hefty price tags. Thinking over the money you have and what’s the priority.You focused on the essentials: four shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of trousers, and two pyjamas. The total price had your eyes go wide. Shoes would have to wait—your heels would suffice for now.

On your walk back it was already afternoon, you didn’t have anything to eat yet. But that was alright because you were heading to a grocery store next.

The prices there were equally shocking, but you told yourself it didn’t matter—you didn’t eat much anyway. You picked up a few basics for the week and some fresh produce before heading to a shop for a few sets of underwear. Glancing at the money you have left when you paid had your heart clenching. Ordering online must be cheaper, if only you had a card.

By the time you returned to the apartment, your arms heavy with bags and your wallet considerably lighter, you knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. A second knock, then the doorbell, brought no response.

Your stomach dropped as you realised Max wasn’t home. Exhausted and hungry, you sank to the floor outside the door, rummaging through your grocery bag for a cucumber, eating it as you waited for your ‘husband’ to come back.

You waited until Max went to bed before you ventured into the kitchen to put away the food you’d bought. The rest, you stashed in your room. You didn’t want to inconvenience Max.

You were already using his bathroom products, which you assumed belonged to his mother or sister, but you tried to keep to yourself as much as possible.

The memory faded as Max’s voice brought you back to the present.

“How exactly did you manage?” He pressed, his eyes narrowing further.

Your shoulders sagged, and the words slipped out before you could stop them. “I sold my earrings.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “Your earrings?”

“They were worth twenty-seven thousand Euros.” You explained, your voice barely audible. “But they’re paying me in instalments, so it’s like I have a job. I didn’t realize how expensive Monaco is.”

He stared at you, unblinking, as the pieces began falling into place.

Max’s jaw clenched. “What about the clothes? I thought your dad sent your things.”

Your face fell, and you looked away. “I can’t wear what he sent me.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked, his voice gentler now. “Can you show me?”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t letting this go. Wordlessly, you led him to your room and opened the walk-in closet, both your ice packs forgotten in the kitchen. Pulling out the suitcases your father had sent, your hand was on the zipper for a while.

“You don’t have to show me.” Max said feeling that all this is bigger than he initially thought.

“It’s fine, it’s not my things anyway.” You said and unzipped the first one and stepped back.

Max crouched down, pulling out the first item: it’s a very small and tight crop top, the shorts will all show your butt, the jeans had rips on the butt cheeks or were skintight, and it’s coming from him. shirts were sheer, necklines low, and skirts that barely covered anything. His frown deepened as he opened the second suitcase—heels in every colour, some taller than seemed practical. The final suitcase made his stomach turn. It was filled with lingerie, nothing else.

He closed it with a sharp snap and turned to look at you. You were standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ll take you shopping this week.” Max said firmly. “Or you can order whatever you want online. No arguments.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I the got basics and when I need more, I can sell the other jewellery I have—”

“No, next time you want clothes I’m getting them for you” Max interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re not selling anything else. The food in the fridge is for both of us.” You wanted to retort, but he just continued. “Both of us may have not wanted this, but I’m not having you starve or spend money you don’t have. You’re my responsibility now.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, and your heart skipped a beat. Max Verstappen is the nicest man you have ever met. He looked so scary the first time you saw him and you dreaded living with him, but here he is, being the kindest soul, you have ever met. He won’t gain anything in return but he’s still nice, he’s kind. For the first time in a long while, you felt safe—truly safe. Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them back, nodding quietly.

“Okay?” Max asked, his gaze softening.

“Okay,” you whispered.

That night, the suitcases were left by the door for donation. Max watched as you retreated to your room, and he made a promise to himself to be more attentive, to keep an eye out for you.

That night, Max decided it was time to reach out to you. Hearing your quiet sobs and observing your timid behaviour had forced him to confront an uncomfortable truth: you weren’t the only one forced into this marriage. For you, it must be infinitely harder. He had his friends, his job, and the comfort of his own home. You had none of that.

The next morning, Max woke early, ordering food for the both of you before you could wake and make breakfast yourself. He wanted to catch you off guard and show a gesture of goodwill.

When you finally emerged from your room, the smell of freshly baked goods wafted through the apartment.

“Good morning. Max greeted, passing you as he carried plates to the dining table. “Come on, grab whatever you want, and let’s eat together.”

You paused, wide-eyed and uncertain, watching him retreat to the dining room. Your stomach growled loudly, betraying your hesitance. Without overthinking it, you reached for a croissant and followed him.

“Thank you.” You murmured, sitting across from him as you noticed the glass of orange juice already poured for you.

Max glanced up. “I’d like us to talk a little after breakfast.” He said, his tone calm.

You froze mid-bite, your stomach tightening as fear flickered across your face. “Talk?”

“Don’t worry.” He reassured, noting your reaction. “I just want to get to know you better.”

Relieved, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. But as you ate, your mind spun. What would he ask? You hadn’t spoken much about yourself to anyone before. The way you’d been raised didn’t leave much room for idle conversation or personal interests. You have been taught what to do for when you got married, but Max is unlike anything they’ve told you a husband will be like.

After finishing breakfast, the two of you moved to the living room. You sat stiffly, your back straight and your hands folded neatly in your lap. Max, sitting on the other end of the sofa, observed you with a faint smile.

“Relax.” He said lightly, leaning forward. “This isn’t an interrogation. I just thought we could set some boundaries or rules and figure out how to make this work for both of us.”

You nodded, unsure of what to expect. “Rules?” Rules you understood. You could follow rules.

“First.” Max began. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

You frowned slightly. “I like to cook.”

“That’s fine, then.” Max said quickly. “But it’s not something you have to do. Same with taking care of Jimmy and Sassy.”

Your frown deepened. “But then… what would I do?”

Max hesitated, realising how rigid your perspective was. “You can do whatever you want. What did you do before… you came here?”

“Well…” You paused, uncertain. “Dad had a schedule for me.”

“Schedule?” Max raised a brow. “Like, what kind of schedule?”

“I woke up at six, exercised for an hour, showered, then had classes until three. After lunch, I went to ballet for two hours, then a piano class for an hour and a half. Then I helped with dinner and went to bed.”

“Every day?” Max asked, his tone incredulous.

You nodded, smiling as though this was entirely normal. “The times changed sometimes, but… yes, since I was 12.”

“Fucking hell.” Max muttered, his jaw tightening. Memories of his own gruelling training sessions under his father’s watch flashed through his mind. The times he had to train for hours on end, walk home alone. But Max loved racing, he thrived in it. And unlike him, you didn’t seem to have any passion or choice in what you did.

Pushing his anger aside, Max decided to steer the conversation away from your father for now. “Why didn’t you buy more food while I was gone?”

“I don’t have a key.” You said simply, scratching nervously at your nail bed—a habit Max noticed for the first time.

“That’s on me.” He admitted. “I’ll get a key made for you.”

He paused, his gaze softening. “How much food do you usually eat?”

You shrugged, not giving it much thought. “Enough.”

“Are you full when you finish eating?”

Your voice was quiet. “Not always.”

Max’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening again. “Right. That’s it. I’m ordering more food.”

Despite your protests, Max ignored you, placing a large order with the determination to figure out what you liked. When the food arrived, you stared in disbelief at the sheer amount spread across the table.

“That’s too much.” You whispered, overwhelmed.

“Just eat,” Max said firmly.

At first, you hesitated, but the hunger gnawing at your stomach made you give in. Bite after bite, Max urged you to try different dishes. “This is amazing—taste it!” he’d insist, or “You’ll love this one.”

You tried to keep up, but the more you ate, the heavier the food sat in your stomach. Not eating a lot had shrunk your stomach, you get full fast, but it seemed like something Max is not accustomed to. When Max handed you another dessert to try, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Springing up, you rushed to the nearest bathroom and barely made it in time before throwing up.

Max was right behind you, holding your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You finally sat back, trembling and exhausted, you flushed the toilet and washed your face and mouth. He handed you a towel to wipe your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded weakly.

“Was the food bad?”

You shook your head. “Too full.”

Max stared at you, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you stop eating?”

“You told me to keep eating.” You said, looking at him through your lashes.

Max groaned, running a hand through his hair as the pieces fell into place. You asked him if you could go out the first day, you stayed in your room unless he asked you to come out or to make him food, you stop walking when he told you to, you’ve showed him your bags when he asked. You’ve been doing exactly what he’s been asking you to do without as much as a remark or hesitation. You haven’t left the house to get food because he didn’t tell you, you can leave. This is fucked. “You don’t need my permission to stop eating, or to do anything for that matter!”

“But my teacher said I should always ask you, I’m sorry that I sometimes do things without asking, but-“

“Stop.” His sharp tone made you fall silent immediately, he groans, he’s done it again. He sighed, softening his voice. “Rule number one: you don’t need to ask me for permission to live your life. You can do whatever you want. I’m your husband, not your… owner.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Max leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re free, Y/N. You’re not under your father’s control anymore. You can pursue whatever makes you happy, go wherever you want. You’re free.”

Your lips trembled slightly as his words sank in. “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Max said firmly, but his voice softened when he saw the fragile hope in your eyes. For a fleeting moment, it was as though a veil had been lifted. The small, hesitant smile on your face wasn’t much, but to him, it felt like a victory.

“I… I’ve never really thought about being free.” You admitted, your fingers twisting together in your lap. “There’s always been rules, schedules, expectations. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Max’s heart ached at your words. He had grown up under his father’s strict guidance, but at least he had racing—a dream to hold onto. But you? You hadn’t even been allowed the space to dream.

“Then start small,” Max said gently. “You don’t have to figure it all out today. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Your smile wavered as a question formed on your lips. “Why are you being so kind to me now?”

The question caught Max off guard, but he didn’t look away. “Because I’ve been an idiot.” he admitted. “I was so focused on how unfair this whole situation was for me that I didn’t stop to think about how much worse it must be for you. You’re here, in a place that’s completely unfamiliar, with someone you barely know.”

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as tears threatened to spill.

“And the more I think about it.” Max continued, his voice tinged with anger—not at you, but at the circumstances. “The more I realise how much you’ve been… controlled. By your father, by this arrangement. I can’t change the past, but I can make sure you don’t feel like that anymore. Not while you’re here with me.”

Your breath hitched, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by your reaction. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Max said softly. “Just… promise me you’ll try. Try to let yourself live a little, yeah?”

“I can try.” You whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression that you hadn’t seen before. “Good. That’s all I’m asking for.”

For the rest of the evening, Max stayed close but didn’t push you further. He handed you the remote to the television and suggested you pick something to watch while he cleaned up the kitchen. At first, you stared at the remote like it was a foreign object, unsure if you were really allowed to make the choice.

When Max returned, he saw you had settled on a light-hearted comedy, though you looked almost guilty about it. He sat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectful distance.

“Good choice.” He said, nodding at the screen. “I like this one.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah. It’s funny.” He glanced at you. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I do. I just… I’m not used to picking.”

Max’s chest tightened. He didn’t know whether to feel anger at the people who had conditioned you this way or frustration at himself for not seeing it sooner.

“Well, from now on, you can pick whatever you like.” He said with a small shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

You nodded, a tiny but genuine smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

As the film played, Max stole a few glances at you. You didn’t laugh out loud at the jokes, but he could see the faintest quirk of your lips, the way your shoulders relaxed just slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

When the credits rolled, you turned to him, your expression a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “Thank you, Max. For… everything today.”

He waved it off, leaning back against the cushions. “Don’t mention it. This is just the start, yeah?”

You nodded again, the hope in your eyes a little brighter this time. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

The next day, you heard Max calling for Jimmy. His voice carried through the house with growing urgency. Curiosity tugged at you, so you stepped out of your room to see what was going on.

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Max asked as soon as he spotted you in the hallway.

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Strange, he never wanders off too far. Let’s check around the house.” Max suggested.

You nodded, and the two of you began searching every nook and cranny. As you walked past one of the guest rooms, you stopped and tugged at the handle of the door. It didn’t budge.

“I can’t open this door.” you called out to Max, who quickly came over.

He gave the handle a firm tug but had no more luck than you. “It’s locked from the inside.” He muttered, pressing his ear to the door. That’s when you both heard it—a muffled, distressed meow.

“I think Jimmy locked himself in.” You said, your voice tinged with concern. “What are we going to do?”

Max frowned, considering his options. “Let’s look it up on YouTube.” He said, pulling out his phone.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching a video tutorial on unlocking a door without a key. The longer the video played, the more your frown deepened.

“This looks complicated.” You said, glancing up at Max, who seemed equally dubious.

“Yeah, it does.” He admitted before disappearing down the hallway. Moments later, he returned—with a hammer.

“You’re going to break the door down?” You asked, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What other option do we have?” Max countered, already sizing up the door as though it were a rival on the track.

Before you could argue, he raised the hammer and brought it down with a loud bang. You flinched at the sound, your astonishment quickly turning to amusement. Holding Max’s phone in your hands, an idea struck you.

As Max continued to hack away at the door—his small hammer looking almost comically inadequate against the solid wood—you began recording. The absurdity of the scene combined with Max’s intense focus had you giggling quietly.

Max paused mid-swing, glancing over his shoulder when he heard your laughter. He smiled to himself. The sound was soft and delicate, like something fragile coming back to life. He decided then and there he wanted to hear it more often.

Finally, after several minutes of determined hammering, Max managed to break a hole large enough to reach through and unlock the door. As soon as the door creaked open, Jimmy bolted out of the room like his tail was on fire, his fur puffed up and his eyes wild with panic.

“That was… something.” Max said, running a hand through his hair as he headed to the kitchen. He set the hammer down on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a long sip.

You followed him into the kitchen, your focus still on the phone. The video you’d taken was playing, and a smile tugged at your lips as you watched Max’s determined hammer-wielding.

Max turned to you, noticing your amusement. “I want to give you, my number.” He said suddenly, his tone casual despite the faint flush creeping up his ears.

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking up from the phone.

“My number.” Max repeated, shifting slightly, the tips of his ears went red. “In case something happens, besides you’re married now. You should have each other’s numbers at least.”

“Oh.” You said, handing his phone back to him. “I don’t have a phone.”

Max froze, staring at you like you’d just announced you didn’t believe in electricity.

“You don’t have a phone?” He asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

You shook your head. “No. My dad said it was a waste of time and that it was better for me to focus on my training. He said it was for my protection… from guys online.” You shrugged, your tone casual as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Max set his water bottle down with a heavy thud, his jaw tightening. “I hate that man more every day.” He muttered under his breath.

You blinked at his reaction, confused by the intensity in his voice. “It’s not that big of a deal.” You said, brushing it off.

“It is.” Max said firmly. “You’re getting a phone tomorrow.”

You opened your mouth to protest but stopped yourself. The truth was, you’d always secretly wanted a phone. It had seemed like a symbol of freedom—something you never had. And now, Max was offering to get you one without you even asking.

“Okay.” You said softly, a small grin spreading across your face.

Max noticed and couldn’t help but smile in return. He picked up his water bottle and took another sip, his chest filling with quiet satisfaction.

Just then, Jimmy sauntered into the kitchen as if nothing had happened, his tail held high and his expression one of utter nonchalance.

“Look at that troublemaker.” Max said with a chuckle, watching as Jimmy headed straight for his water bowl. “Acting like he didn’t just give us a heart attack.”

You laughed again, and Max found himself smiling even wider. Yes, he decided. He would make sure you laughed more often—no matter what it took.

The next morning, you make breakfast for both you and Max. It’s a quiet meal, shared in comfortable silence, before you both retreat to your rooms to finish getting ready. Dressed in one of the shirts and jeans you bought, you hold your heels in your hands as you head to the door. Slipping them on, you wince slightly as the straps press against the tender skin at the back of your feet. Max steps out shortly after, and together you leave the penthouse.

The car ride is tranquil, with you staring out the window for a while before glancing around.

“I like this car.” You say softly, running your fingers over the leather seat. Max smiles, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. He’s driving the same Aston Martin today, saving the Valkyrie for another time. It gets him too much attention.

“Can you drive?” Max asks after a moment, glancing at you.

Your cheeks flush. “No.”

He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll have to change that.” There’s a note of determination in his voice. He’s a Formula 1 world champion; his wife will know how to drive. “You do want to learn, right?”

“Yes. Maybe not in a supercar, but yes.” You admit with a small smile. Another form of freedom you’d been denied. Another gift Max wanted to give you.

“We’ll start with a sedan.” He says, already planning out the details in his mind.

At the Apple Store, Max leads you inside, where you both gravitate toward a display of phones.

“What colour do you want?” He asks, standing close beside you. After a moment of contemplation, you tell him your favourite. Max nods, relaying the choice to a sales assistant, and adds a laptop, iPad, mouse, earbuds, earphones, and a phone case to the list.

“That’s too much.” You whisper, leaning toward him.

Max takes your hand gently, and you freeze, startled by the unexpected intimacy. His gaze is steady, his voice low so only you can hear. “It’s not too much. I want to give you everything you weren’t allowed to have.” His thumb brushes over your wedding ring, and his lips curve into a soft smile. “This is just the beginning.”

Reluctantly, you let him take the lead, wandering around the store as Max finalises the purchases. But after a while, your feet begin to ache, and you take a seat in one of the chairs near the display laptops. The relief is immediate, but you can feel the cut on your heel reopening.

From across the store, Max notices you frown as you touch your foot. His sharp eyes take in the subtle signs of discomfort, and when he sees you sigh, he excuses himself from the cashier. He walks over, carrying the bags, just as you look up and smile at him—a real smile, one that lights up your face.

It stops him in his tracks. For the first time, Max feels the warmth of your happiness directed at him, and he’s momentarily stunned. But as you stand, he notices the slight wince and follows your gaze. His eyes fall to your feet, he can’t see anything. He makes you walk in front of him and then he sees it, the backs of your feet are red and bleeding.

“Y/n.” He says his voice a mix of concern and frustration. You glance at him, confused, until you notice where he’s looking.

“Max.” you murmur softly, instinctively stepping to the side.

“Take them off.” He says through gritted teeth, crouching beside you.

Your cheeks burn as you look around the store, worried about the eyes on you both. “Max—”

“You’re in pain. Take them off.” He insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you hesitate, Max gently sets the bags down and reaches for your foot.

“Max!” You protest, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. He looks up at you, his eyes blazing with determination, and your resolve crumbles. Slowly, you step out of one heel, using his shoulder for balance, and then the other. The relief is instant.

Max clenches his jaw as he examines the heels. They look pristine on the outside, but the insides are stained with blood—both fresh and old. His chest tightens.

Standing, he towers over you, the anger in his eyes sharp enough to make you step back. “Do you even like wearing heels?” He asks, his voice tense. You shake your head, unsure how to answer.

“Not really.” You admit quietly.

“Damn it, y/n!” Max’s voice rises slightly, and you flinch, your heart was beating hard in your chest. He freezes, his frustration giving way to dread as he sees you retreat. You’re scared. Not of the world champion standing before you, but of what he represented—a shadow of your past. Gone the smile you had when you saw him, you’re frowning, trying to be in control of your feeling and reactions.

“Y/n—” You turn abruptly, walking away on bare feet, your steps hurried. “Wait!” Max calls after you, and you freeze in place. “Fuck.”

Max hates himself so much right now. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as he approaches you. He’s taken so many steps towards making you comfortable and here he’s undone most of them. Max leaves the bags and heels and walks up to you, he takes your hand in his and pulls you out of the store. He quickly finds a hidden spot way from praying eyes and ears. When he finally faces you, he sees the tears in your eyes and wobbling lips. “Shit, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Tears leave your eyes, and Max feels himself tearing up, he messed up, he messed up really bad.

“I didn’t mean to be angry at you, I’m sorry.” He says, his voice breaking. “I’m just angry about how you were treated, I want you to be happy, I want to make your life easier. I’m angry at how no one cared enough to stop it. But I rushed you, and that’s on me.” Max stops for a second, you’re not looking at him. “That’s a lot of I’s, I was selfish, I thought about how I wanted you to feel and now how you wanted to take things, I rushed you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I remind you of him.” His voice cracks.

A sob escapes your lips, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning into him. Max wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you as you cry. For the first time, you’re not crying alone, you weren’t hugging and comforting yourself. He doesn’t try to shush you or pull away. He just holds you.

Max may have caused you to cry, but he didn’t leave you to cry, he came after you and apologised. You know that as much as everything he’s doing is new to you, it’s also new to him. Every day you’re realising that you’re not normal, that what you went through isn’t normal.

“When you’re ready.” Max murmurs into your hair. “I’d like to know everything. Everything your dad did to you.” You shake your head, and though it pains him, Max doesn’t push. “When you’re ready.” he repeats.

You don’t know how long you stay there, shielded by his embrace, Max just holds you, hiding your face from the world, giving you the comfort you need. When you finally pull away, Max wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Let’s go home.” He says softly, crouching to untie his shoes and place them in front of you.

“Max, you don’t have to—” You begin your voice is ever soft, clearly you’re exhausted..

“Humour me.” He insists with a small smile. You nod, sliding your feet into the oversized shoes as Max ties the laces snugly.

At the car, you slip in and Max turns on the car before he jogs back to the store to grab the bags but returns empty-handed when it comes to your heels. He tosses them in a nearby bin, not wanting their memory to linger.

The drive back is quiet. Both of you are lost in thought, but the silence is no longer uncomfortable. It’s reflective.

The car ride back is heavy with unspoken thoughts. You’re lost in the moment you flinched and stepped away from Max. He hadn’t even raised his voice by much, his hands remained by his sides, yet you flinched. Scared.

You didn’t want to feel scared. You knew, deep down, that there was no reason to be scared. Max cares. He’s shown you more kindness and humility than anyone else in your life, even during the days when he ignored your existence.

For Max, the silence in the car speaks volumes. He’s seen his share of abuse—read about it, watched it unfold in the media—but now, sitting beside you, he’s realising the extent of your mistreatment. It wasn’t just mental or emotional. It was physical, too.

The quiet lingers as you both walk into the penthouse. Max turns to you, his expression soft.

“You can get changed, and we’ll set up your devices,” he says.

You nod and retreat to your room, shedding the thrift store clothes for your pyjamas. The soft fabric feels like a balm after the day’s events.

When you return to the living room, Max has unpacked everything from the bags. He looks up at you, his expression warm.

“I wanted you to open the boxes.” He says, his voice almost shy. He knows the joy of opening something new, especially something you’ve wanted for so long. He wonders if you’ve ever had that experience. Sitting beside him on the sofa, you tuck your legs under you. “Where do you want to start?”

“The phone?” You suggest.

Max grins, handing you the box. You unwrap it, excitement bubbling in your chest. He guides you through setting it up, letting you explore while he works on the laptop. He’s already created an email for you, logging into everything you might need.

His number is the only contact in your phone, and you ask him to transfer the video of him breaking the door. He obliges with a faint chuckle.

“Max?” You ask hesitantly, looking up from the screen.

He hums in response, glancing over.

“Is there an app for Formula 1?”

His brow arches. “Yes. Why?”

“So, I can know when you’re racing.” You admit shyly, holding out your phone. Max’s smile softens as he opens the App Store. “Now I can also look up anything I didn’t understand from watching last time.”

“You watched the race?” This is news to max; he had no idea you watched the last two races. It’s something you’ve done on his smart TV but didn’t want him to know at first thinking he’d be angry.

“I didn’t.” Max admits. “Did you enjoy it?”

Your smile grows, and it feels like the first time Max has seen you truly at ease. “It was fun. I didn’t understand everything, but you came first both times.”

The pride in your voice makes his chest swell. “Well, now you can text me if you don’t understand something. After the race, I’ll explain everything.”

As the day unfolds, you grow more comfortable beside him on the sofa. Max helps you connect everything to your phone, downloading apps like Netflix and upgrading his Spotify to a duo plan. At some point, he broaches another idea.

“Can I order you some shoes?”

You glance up from your phone, hesitant. “Just one or two.” You say.

Max nods with a smile, but later, as he sits with his laptop, he realises he has no idea where to start. He’s never shopped for women’s shoes before. After a moment, he glances at you.

“Do you mind if I invite some friends tomorrow?”

You blink, surprised. “It’s your house. You can do whatever you want.”

“And you live here too.” Max counters gently. He sends a quick text before adding. “Let’s watch a film.”

You pick a random movie, and as night falls, the weight of the day catches up with you. The popcorn bowl between you grow forgotten as your eyes drift shut. At one point your eyes snap shut and don’t open again your head eventually tilts to the side, landing on Max’s shoulder.

Startled, Max glances down. For a moment, he freezes, unsure what to do. Your soft breathing fans his neck. Max tried not to move much but get you in a comfortable position, you groaned when he moved and buried your face into his shoulder. Max’s arm was in the air, he didn’t know what to do. When you moved closer, he placed his arm around your shoulder. That settled you down and he relaxes.

By the time the credits roll, Max thought it’s best to get you to bed. Carefully, he moves, trying not to wake you. He slides from under you, laying you down on the sofa before scooping you into his arms.

In your room, Max pulls back the covers and places you on the bed, tucking you in as you mumble incoherently. Jimmy jumps up onto the bed, curling up beside you. Max lingers for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

For the first time, you look peaceful. Truly relaxed.           

Max opened the lamp by the bed, casting a soft glow in the room, Jimmy jumped on the bed and curled into himself to fall asleep. Max took you in, he’s never seen you so relaxed before, so at peace. He wonders if it’s the only time you truly relax. Instinctively he pushes a few strands form your face. You sigh. With a soft smile Max turns off the lamp and leaves your room.

That night, Sassy sleeps in his bed, as if the cats have decided to split their time between you both, keeping you company in their own way.

The next day, around noon, Max’s friends arrived. You weren’t sure what to expect, but stepping out of your room, you froze when you saw the familiar face of the Ferrari driver who had been racing against Max last week.

“Hi, I’m Charles.” He introduced himself warmly, leaning in for the traditional Monaco greeting. You exchanged a quick press of the cheeks before your gaze shifted to the woman standing beside him. She was stunning, elegant, and radiated a warmth that put you slightly at ease.

“I’m Alexandra, but you can call me Alex.” She said, extending her hand. You repeated the greeting and introduced yourself.

“I’m y/n.”

Both of them noticed the rings adorning your left hand but didn’t comment. You’d noticed that Max wasn’t wearing his, though you hadn’t commented on.

The four of you moved into the living room, and you instinctively sat beside Max. His presence anchored you, offering a sense of security in the unfamiliar social situation. For a while, the conversation flowed lightly until Max and Charles excused themselves, heading to the balcony. You hesitated, but Alex smiled, clearly sensing your nervousness.

 “How long have you been in Monaco?” She said kindly.

You thought for a moment. “About a month.”

“That’s still pretty new! I’m guessing you don’t have many friends here yet?”

You shook your head.

“Well…” Alex said with a mischievous grin, “I’ve been looking for a new shopping partner. Maybe you’d like to join me sometime?”

Your cheeks warmed. “I’m not very good at shopping.” You admitted, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve.

“That’s okay! We can figure it out together.” She reassured you before pulling out her phone. “Here, let me get your number.”

She tapped it into her contacts, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. Alex didn’t press you with questions about yourself, instead sharing light anecdotes about her life. At one point, she showed you a picture on her phone—a beautiful painting that immediately drew your attention.

“That’s gorgeous.” You said, leaning closer. “It looks so calm and peaceful.”

“It’s by Claude Monet, part of his Water Lilies series,” Alex explained, watching your expression soften. “Do you like art?”

You hesitated, a small smile forming. “I do. I always wanted to study it.”

Alex’s eyes lit up. “Really? I went to art school! I’d love to talk more about it with you.”

Excitedly, you leaned in as Alex recounted her studies and experiences. You felt a spark of joy in the conversation, a rare moment of connection that felt genuine. When Max and Charles returned, you and Alex were laughing at one of her stories.

“What’s so funny?” Charles asked, sitting beside Alex and kissing her cheek.

“Oh, I was just telling y/n about my old art professor.” Alex replied. She turned to Max, her smile widening. “Did you know she loves art?”

Max’s gaze shifted to you, his expression softening. “You do?”

You nodded shyly.

“She wanted to study it.” Alex added, and you saw the flicker of recognition in Max’s eyes as he took that in.

“Do you guys want to go out to eat?” Charles asked, your eyes snapped to Max’s you don’t have any shoes. But before you could panic, Alex chimed in.

“Why don’t we order in instead? It’s cozier that way.”

You shot her a grateful look, and she winked.

Lunch was lively, Charles regaling you all with stories from his and Max’s childhood. You found yourself laughing more than you had in years, and Max couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sound of your laughter, the way your face lit up—it was like watching a new side of you emerge, you leaned towards him when you laughed.

Charles isn’t stupid he knew Max cared for you, even if he didn’t know exactly what’s going on. He’s known Max since they were kids, there’s something between the two of you.

“You should come to a race sometime.” Alex said casually.

You glanced at Max, who raised an eyebrow as if to say it was entirely your decision.

“Maybe.” You said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “If you’ll be there.”

Alex clapped her hands in delight. “Of course, I will! It’ll be so much fun.”

After Charles and Alex left, you helped Max clean up, the two of you working quietly in sync.

“How was it?” He asked, his tone careful.

“They were nice,” you said with a soft smile. “I had fun.” Max relaxed slightly, but then your smile faltered. “I’ve never had friends who weren’t chosen by my dad.”

You didn’t elaborate, but the weight of your words hung in the air. Max didn’t press, giving you space to share only what you were ready to.

Once the kitchen was tidy, you leaned against the counter, watching Max move about. He glanced at you curiously.

“What?”

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

“For what?”

“For everything.” You said, your voice trembling slightly. “For telling Charles and Alex what I needed without saying anything personal.” You tell him and glance at the floor before you look up again, your eyes meeting his. “Thank you for being the kindest person I ever met.”

Max froze. “I wasn’t kind at first.” he murmured, guilt flickering in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Even then, you cared more than anyone else ever did.” Your voice broke. “I know you didn’t want this,  I know that my dad forced you into it. And you didn’t have to be nice to me, but I’ve been alone for so many years.” A tear slipped down your cheek. Max was in front of you in an instant, his hands gently cupping your face. He wiped the tear away, his eyes locked on yours. “My sister…” you whispered, Max frowns he had no idea you have a sister. “She turned eighteen and left. I was nine. She never called, never sent anything. And my mum died giving birth to me, and after that... it was just my dad.” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “No one ever asked what I wanted or cared if I was okay. As long as I did well in school, no one cared.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with an unspoken rage. But he buried it, focusing instead on you. Still holding your face, and your eyes not wavering away from each other, Max leans over and places his lips softly on your forehead.

“I promise you’ll never feel like that again.” He whispered against your skin. “I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You let out a shaky breath and leaned into his chest, letting him hold you. For the first time, you felt like you could let go of the weight you’d been carrying for so long.

When you finally pulled back, Max smiled softly, and you returned it, the moment settling between you like a quiet promise.

It was a quiet Sunday morning with no race this week. You and Max had just finished breakfast—something simple, part of the diet routine his trainer had him on. You were following his plan, eating smaller portions, and Max had noticed you snacking more these days, which made him happy. After everything that had happened, he wasn't pushing you to eat more than you wanted.

Max sat back with his tea, scrolling through his phone when it rang. The number was familiar—it was his mum.

Bold is Dutch

"Hey, Mum."

"Hey, honey, I just got off the phone with your dad." Sophie’s voice sounded tense, and Max tensed instinctively, already sensing where this conversation was going.

"Yeah?" Max asked, trying to sound casual.

"He told me something weird… he said… he said you got married." There was a long pause, and Sophie didn't give him time to run around it. "Max, is this true?"

Max cursed under his breath, closing his eyes. The silence dragged on.

"Look, Mum, it’s hard to explain." Max began, but Sophie wasn’t having it.

"Hard to explain? Max, did you get married? Yes, or no?" Her voice was sharp now, demanding an answer. Max rubbed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

"Yes." He admitted.

"And you didn’t think to tell us? Who did you even marry? What the hell have you gotten yourself into? Is she pregnant or something?" Sophie’s voice cracked with worry. Max could hear the disbelief in her words. His mother wasn’t the type to overreact, but this was too much.

"Mum, calm down." Max sat up straighter, his voice calming. "Look, Dad signed a contract years ago, and if it ever gets out, he could be sent to prison. The man who signed it made me marry his daughter to keep everything quiet."

"What the fuck is wrong with your father?" Sophie wasn’t expecting Max to have an answer to that. "You can’t get out of it?"

"No, I couldn’t." Max’s voice was steady but firm.

"Is she living with you?" Sophie asked, her worry turning into concern for Max’s well-being.

"Yes." Max's voice softened slightly.

"Mum, be careful. I don’t know her, but she could be the one who asked her dad to do this. You can never be too sure with people like that."

Max paused, a flicker of protectiveness for you rising in him. "Mum, she’s not like that."

There was silence on the other end of the line as Sophie processed his words. Max felt the weight of her judgment shift. He had to convince her of this, for you.

"She’s nice. Quiet. Really beautiful. And she’s nothing like her dad. If anything, I’m just happy she’s away from him."

Sophie was silent, the tension hanging thick. She wasn’t used to hearing her son speak so openly about someone like this. "

"You like her." She said, the words not quite a question but more of a realization.

Max let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "I do." And for the first time he’s said it out loud.

“I want to meet her.” Sophie said, her voice firm but not unkind. She’ll cast all judgment to the side until she met you.

“I’ll talk to her.” Max promised, knowing it was important for you to decide if and when you felt comfortable with meeting his family.

After the call ended, Max sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts before heading back to you.

“y/n.” Max called as he entered the room. You looked up from the iPad, where you’d been experimenting with ProCreate.

"In two weeks, it’s the Dutch Grand Prix. Do you want to come with me?"

You raised an eyebrow, a little hesitant. "Will Alex be there?"

Max smiled, the corner of his lips twitching.

"I don’t know, but my mum and sister will be, and my mum wants to meet you." You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit you’d picked up, and started scratching at your nail bed. "You don’t have to come if it’s too much."

"No, it’s okay… do they know?" You asked, hesitant but curious.

Max nodded. "Yeah. I don’t know about Victoria, but Mum wants to meet you first before anything." He gave a small, reassuring smile. “I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready."

You nodded slowly, but the nerves were already starting to bubble in your stomach, your mind started overthinking every possible scenario that could happen. "I don’t know… what if they don’t like me?"

Max’s voice softened, a hint of concern crossing his face. "Don’t do that." He said gently, cupping your face. "Don’t get lost in your thoughts."

You sighed, your shoulders sinking a little. "I just…"

"Show me what you’ve done." Max said, cutting through your train of thought. He gently nudged you aside and sat next to you on the couch.

You hesitated before showing him your drawing on the iPad. Max leaned in, studying the strokes and lines you’d created. He didn’t know much about art, but the smile on his face said everything. To him, it looked good.

He turned to you, eyes soft. "It’s great. You’re really talented."

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his compliment.

He’s been talking with Alex for help, he’s getting you a good starter kit, different mediums and everything until you find what you like. Max has another an empty bedroom, where his sim was supposed to go, before he sat it up in the living room, he can convert it to your studio. He was making sure you had everything you needed to thrive.

"Will you come to the next race with me?" Max asked softly. "Just so you can see everything before you meet my mum and sister. It’ll be nice to have you there."

You agreed to go with him to the next two weeks, first stop was Hungary and then it was the Netherlands.

Alex would be there as well, and that eased your nerves a little, knowing you’d have someone else you were comfortable with.

Max also made sure you had some new clothes, a few more pairs of shoes—something that made him happy. You’d ordered them online, and he was genuinely excited to see you enjoy these little things.

While packing, Max’s eyes fell on the wedding band he’d taken off and placed on his bedside table. It had been there ever since, untouched. Without thinking much about it, he slipped it into his luggage.

The atmosphere of the paddock was nothing like you’d expected—it was electric, buzzing with activity. Alex made sure to meet up with you once the drivers had to go in for media duties. She showed you around, introducing you to the other WAGs, who were all genuine and easy to talk to.

Lilly showed you TikTok, and you downloaded the app instantly, amused by how much you were missing out. The girls didn’t pry into your relationship with Max. They accepted you for who you were—just a friend of Max, now Alex’s as well.

The weekend was enjoyable, thanks to them. You watched the race from the Red Bull garage, chatting with Max between sessions. Some photos were snapped, but no one really knew who you were. Your anonymity remained intact, despite the rumours circulating about you and Max.

Max kept an eye on the gossip online. He didn’t care about the usual scrutiny, but his family was off-limits. No one had asked for his life to be under a microscope. And now, you were part of his family. You shared his name.

That thought made something in Max shift. He felt a deep sense of possessiveness, pride even, that you had his last name. The primal part of him loved that you were his, and that realization struck him late that night. He wasn’t just liking you anymore—he was falling for you. Fast.

But Max wasn’t used to slow. He liked things fast, hard, and with determination. He knew what he wanted, and now that he had you, he would do whatever it took to keep you.

Usually, Max flies with his friends from race to race on his private jet, but since he’s bringing you this time, it’s just the two of you.

“How was the race weekend?” Max asked, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It was a lot.” You admitted, and his heart sank a little. He wanted you to enjoy it and wondered if he should’ve asked if you wanted to go in the first place. “But I enjoyed it. It was different from seeing it on TV. Also, the girls were all very nice. I’ve never been to something like this before. I wanted to see you win, though.”

“Maybe next time.” Max chuckled softly before adding, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

You and Max arrived in the Netherlands on Monday. The first two days, you’ll stay at his mum’s house, and then he’ll move to a hotel closer to the track. Your nail beds were raw from all the scratching you were doing, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

In the car, Max took your hand in his, gently running his fingers over the red and irritated areas. You glanced at him, expecting a question or a comment, but he remained focused on your hand, his touch warm and soothing. Your heart raced, a blush creeping up your cheeks as his attention left you feeling giddy. No guy had ever held your hand before.

Your mind wandered. Every small thing Max did made you question whether it was all platonic or if he had feelings for you. You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him. Every time he was near, your heart skipped a beat, and you felt weightless.

When you arrived at his mum’s house, his mum and sister were already at the door, waiting. As you both walked up, pulling your luggage behind you, Max greeted Sophie with a warm hug. Victoria waited her turn before stepping in for her own hug.

After they let Max go, Sophie turned to you with a kind smile. “Hi, I’m Sophie,” she said.

You smiled timidly and offered your hand. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

She shook your hand warmly before Victoria followed suit.

“Let’s go inside,” Sophie said, leading the way.

Max lingered for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as if silently asking if you were okay. You gave him a small smile, and the two of you followed them inside.

Once inside, you placed your bags next to Max’s and joined them in the living room. Max gestured for you to sit next to him on the couch, while Sophie and Victoria settled across from you. It felt like an interview, the kind where every word mattered.

Sophie broke the silence first. “Tell us a little about yourself, y/n. Max hasn’t said much.”

Your fingers unconsciously returned to scratching. “I-uh, what do you want to know?”

Sophie gave you a reassuring smile. “Where did you grow up?”

“Oh, we moved a lot. I was last in Switzerland, but before that, we lived in the UK, Spain, and Germany for a while.”

“It must’ve been hard moving countries and losing your friends.” Victoria said sympathetically.

You shrugged. “It’s alright. I learnt many languages.” You dismiss their concerns, you’ve never had much of friends in the first place, so moving wasn’t hard on you in that aspect.

“Oh? How many do you know?” Sophie asked, intrigued.

“German, Spanish, French, a bit of Italian, and some Dutch.”

“You know Dutch?” Max asked, clearly surprised.

You smiled genuinely for the first time since sitting down. “Yeah, not fluently, but enough. It’s a little similar to German and French.”

“That’s impressive.” Sophie said.

“Thank you.” You replied, brushing off the compliment.

“Did you watch Formula 1 before meeting Max?” Sophie asked.

“No. I had no idea about it until… Max.” You hesitated, unsure how much to share.

“What are your socials? I want to follow you.” Victoria said, pulling out her phone.

“I don’t have any.” Your fingers returned to scratching. They both looked at Max, who nodded in confirmation. You added quietly. “Didn’t have a phone until Max got me one.”

“Really?” Victoria’s shock was evident.

“Your mother was okay with this?” Sophie asked, her voice softer now. She would never leave her daughter without a phone in case something happened to her, and she needed help. Even if just an old phone or limit access to internet, but not having a phone is bazaar. Your nail digs into your skin.

Max glanced at you, his concern growing as he noticed your nails digging into your skin. Without a word, he took your hand in his again.

“I think maybe we should rest first.” Max says wanting to get you out of this situation.

“It’s alright.” You squeeze his hand, Max is closer to you now, your hand in his on his thigh. You give him the smallest of smiles, before turning to his family. “My mum died giving birth to me.”

“And your siblings?” Sophie asked hesitantly.

“Ran away when she turned 18.” You said matter-of-factly. “I know you’re just looking out for Max, but I would never hurt him. I only want the best for him.”

Sophie softened. “Thank you.” She said with a small smile.

Later that night, you were in one of the spare rooms, dressed in your pyjamas, staring out of the window when Max knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You called.

Max stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.” You replied simply.

“They weren’t too much, were they?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“No, they love you.”

“They do.” Max paused, guilt creeping in. Even with his rough childhood, he’d had his mum and sister. You’d had no one.

“Don’t do that,” you said, raising a hand to smooth the furrow between his brows.

“Do what?” He took your hand from his face into his. He studies your hand, making sure there’s no more cuts on them.

“Feel guilty. Hate that you had a better life than me.” You said softly. “We’ve both had rough childhoods, but we’re here now.”

“We’re here now.” Max repeated, his voice heavy with emotion. For a moment, silence filled the room until you broke it.

“You know I’ve suffered all types of abuse from my dad.” Max’s grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenching. “When I wouldn’t do what he wanted or got less than perfect on tests, he’d pull me by my hair. He loved seeing me stumble, dragging me around like I was nothing. Sometimes he hit me, but never hard enough to leave permanent marks. When my sister escaped, he made sure I couldn’t. He couldn’t break her, so he broke me.”

“He didn’t break you.” Max said firmly. You looked at him, your eyes hollow. “He didn’t. You’re here. You’re strong. You’re not following his rules anymore. You have a phone, you wear what you want, and you’re living your life. If he broke you, you wouldn’t have any of that.”

“All of that is because of you.” You countered. “You made me do all that.”

“No, you let me help you, you let me do all those things for you.” Max wanted you to understand how strong you are, how brave you are. “Someone else would’ve still ben in that shell, they’d still be afraid. Are you scared?”

“Not when I’m with you.” You admitted.

“And I’m not going anywhere.” Max whispers and you lean over and hug him. Something that you have come to love. You may have not experienced a lot of hugs in your life, but Max’s hugs are your favourite. There can never be a hug like his, a hug that makes you warm, feel protected, safe a hug that feels like home. Max waits until you pull away, his fingertips come up to your face and push the stray hairs out of your face. Your eyes locked in an intense gaze. After what feels like forever Max lets out a breath, he leans over and presses his lips to your forehead, before he bids you good night.

That night you dream of him; you dream of what it would be like being in a real relationship with Max. And you wake up wishing it was the truth; you wake up wishing that you were really with him.

Max wanted nothing but to find your dad and beat him up, who treats their daughters like this. How can he be human? He should be locked up. It took everything in him not to track him down, when you told him, and just end him. Just so he wouldn’t breathe the same air you breath, so he wouldn’t walk the same earth you’re walking. Max had to remind himself that you’re with him now, that your father won’t get to you. He gave you to Max and now you belong to him. And so, he planned.

The next few days felt surreal, almost as if you had stepped into a different life. Whether at her home or in the paddock, you spent most of your time with Sophie and Victoria, getting to know them in a more natural way. Victoria introduced you to her children and her partner, who seemed to warm up to you quickly. Their acceptance gave you a quiet sense of relief—you were finally starting to feel like part of something good.

On Media Day, you managed to catch up with Alex and the girls, who urged you to sign up for Instagram, even if you didn’t plan on posting anything. Their light-hearted teasing helped you relax, even if you weren’t ready to make that leap just yet.

Every night, Max ensured that you all ate together as a family. He was quietly thrilled by how easily you fit in, your laughter blending seamlessly with theirs. To him, it was a sign of hope, something he hadn’t realised he was holding on to so tightly.

But you were completely oblivious to the plan Max had set in motion after your heart-to-heart. Behind the scenes, he was orchestrating an end to your father’s influence. He wanted it done discreetly, leaving no room for you to suspect or feel burdened by it.

The energy in the paddock was electric as Quali Day unfolded, Max securing pole position in a thrilling comeback. You had been watching from the garage with Sophie, who nudged you playfully when you cheered so loudly it drew stares.

“You look happier than he does!” Sophie teased, a warm smile on her face.

“Well, he earned it!” You replied, grinning.

Sophie took your hand, leading you to where Max would be arriving. The timing was perfect—he walked in just as you reached the area.

“Max!” You called, your excitement spilling over as you ran up to him. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him. It wasn’t like the casual hugs you had gotten used to giving—it was unreserved, spontaneous. For a moment, Max froze in surprise, but then his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

“Congratulations.” You murmured against him, your voice warm with pride.

“It’s not a win yet.” Max replied, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your hair.

“You were still amazing.” You insisted, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I was starting to think I brought you bad luck.”

“You can never bring me bad luck.” He whispered, his tone serious. His arms around you a beat after you let go as his team called for him. “I have to go, but I’ll see you after.”

“Okay.” You whispered, stepping back reluctantly.

Sophie smiled knowingly, taking your hand as the two of you headed back to the garage. Neither of you realised that your tender moment had been caught on a live video, now circulating online. But none of you saw it that day, so busy with your lives to log online.

Max’s teams saw the video, they had previously asked Max about your relation to him, but he politely said it’s none of their business. Wanting the reigning world champion to focus on the win, they didn’t tell him about the video.

Max clinched victory in a hard-fought race, and the celebrations were wild. You stood with Sophie and Victoria in Parc Ferme. Max held your hand for a brief moment. He hasn’t talked to you yet about the media and how to deal with them, so he’d like to keep it all as private as he could. But he also wanted you to know how he apricated your presence.

The team went hard in celebrating, there was the photo taking after the media duties, champaign splashing, cheering and jumping around. You watched it all from the side with Sophie. The woman was starting to have a soft spot for you, the more time she spent with you. You left with the women to change at the hotel, for a dinner with the family, apparently even Jos was coming. You had all changed and went to the restaurant at the hotel, and Max joined you all soon after. His mum and sister purposely left the seat next to you empty, Max likes sitting next to you something that they’ve noticed.

As you scanned the menu, Max leaned closer, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair.

“Do you know what you’ll order?” He asked.

“I’m torn between these two.” You replied, pointing at the options. Max leaned in further to look; his face so close that you caught a whiff of his cologne.

“We’ll get both and share.” He decided.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded firmly, his easy confidence making you smile.

Across the table, Victoria nudged Sophie, tilting her head toward the two of you. “Look at them.” She whispered. Sophie smiled back, clearly entertained by the unspoken affection radiating between you and Max.

Sharing the food was a good option, you liked both dishes, Max ate more than you did which is expected. Before you get dessert, you excused yourself to the bathroom after the main course, you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

The moment you rounded the corner, a hand grabbed your arm roughly. Before you could react, another hand twisted into your hair, yanking you back with enough force to make you stumble and you instantly knew who it was. A squeak left your mouth as you were dragged.

“I think you and y/n should date.” Sophie said to her son, the moment you were out of earshot.

“What? We’re married.”

“Yes, but not of your choice.” She says. “You both like each other, already married, why not try to date and see where it takes you, it’s backwards but why not?”

“I don’t know if she likes me.” Max said, feeling insecure all of the sudden.

“Believe me she likes you.” Victoria says and stands up. “I need the bathroom too.”

Leaving her mum and brother to talk, she sped walked to the bathroom, regretting the last glass of wine she drank. Victoria hears a squeak; she turns and just catches a glimpse of you being pulled away. Her eyes go wide, and she rushes back to the restaurant.

“Fucking bitch, shut up!” Your father spat, his voice venomous. Panic flooded you as he dragged you toward the emergency stairwell. Jos was already there, hovering uneasily but saying nothing.

Your back hit the cold concrete wall, and the impact knocked the wind out of you. Tears blurred your vision as your father loomed over you, his face twisted with rage.

“What did I tell you before you left?” He hissed. “I said to play dumb and keep your mouth shut! So, what the hell did you say to that asshole?”

“I—I, I don’t k-know.” You stutter vision blurry.

“The fuck you don’t! What did you say that made him talk to the investors, they’re all pulling out!” He’s screaming now, you flinch wishing the wall to just swallow you. you thought you’d be stronger the next time you see your dad, but here you are a whimpering mess. “Talk! What did you say?”

“I—I don’t know!” You cry, your voice trembling.

“Bullshit!” he roared, his hand striking your cheek with enough force to snap your head to the side. You whimpered, your legs buckling beneath you. The wall behind you the only reason you didn’t fall.

But before he could strike again, the door burst open. Max charged in like a storm, tackling your father to the ground with a roar of fury.

“Oh my god.” You hear Sophie gasp and rushes to your side, she pulls you from the stairwell.

“You fucking asshole!” Max shouted, landing punch after punch. “Who the hell hits women? I told you to stay away from her!”

Jos sees the rage Max is in and jumps into action, fearing his son will be locked up, he tries to pull Max of your father. Jos is far from being in his prime and Max isn’t young anymore. Max glares at his father.

“Max, stop!” Jos finally intervened, trying to pull his son off. But Max shoved him away, his anger boiling over.

“Piss off, this is your fault! You brought him here!” Max spat at his father; his voice thick with betrayal. He allowed him to come close to you, saw him hit you and did nothing.

Meanwhile, Sophie had her arms wrapping protectively around you. Victoria rushed to get security, her heels clicking frantically against the tiled floor.

You hear the shouting from outside, even through your pain you want to go to Max. You try to get back inside, but Sophie stops you.

“Wait, Victoria is getting security.”

“But Max-“

“Will be fine, he wouldn’t want you in there.” Just as she says that she sees the security running in your direction she points to the door, and they rush in. There’s more shouting and screaming from inside.

“Oh my god! Are you alright?” Victoria asks stopping in front of you. Tears haven’t stop, your scalp was hurting, and your cheek was pulsing. It’ll bruise, leaving a mark. “That’s a stupid question.”

“What are you doing? He started it!” You hear your dad scream, the door opens, and he’s pulled outside, his vision falls on you. “I was just talking with my daughter, and he butts in.”

“That’s my wife! And you laid hands on her.” Max says coming out of the door and takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his mum and sister. “You should call the police.”

The security nods and they take your dad away, as one of them call for the police. Jos walks out last, and the glares turn to him.

“I don’t care anymore, I’m getting him to jail, he can do whatever he wants.” Max tells his dad, Jos looks defeated, with what happened your dad will go to the media. There’s no fighting this, Max may have gotten married but, in the end, he’ll still be exposed.

Max then turns to you, he takes you in, your hair is a mess your mascara was running, and tears haven’t stopped leaving your eyes. Also, your cheek is red and buffy. It takes a lot for Max not to run after your dad and beat him some more.

“Schatje,” Max says softly, stepping closer until there’s almost no space between you. His hand cups your uninjured cheek, tilting your face so he can examine it. There’s pain in his eyes as he studies you. “I should’ve hit him more.”

You whimper, more tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Not now, Max.” Sophie reprimands gently.

“Sorry.” He mutters, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His focus shifts entirely to you. “I’m sorry, y/n. You’re okay. You’re safe now. I promise this is the end of it.” His voice is low but filled with conviction. “I’ll make sure he never comes near you again. This was a mistake, a blip. As long as I’m alive, no one will lay a hand on you again. Do you hear me? No one. I swear it.”

For the first time, you believe those words with your whole heart. Max would do anything to protect you. Overcome with emotion, you throw your arms around him, seeking comfort in his presence despite the pain it causes.

“Max, I... I—” The words stick in your throat as your sobs overtake you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Max soothes, his voice a calming balm. His arms tighten around you, and his hand strokes your back gently.

When Max glances up, his eyes meet Sophie’s. The pain in his expression makes her heart ache. Any doubts she had are gone. Sophie makes a silent promise to herself: she will make sure you feel the love your family never gave you.

“Max, the hotel staff said we can wait for the police in your room.” Victoria interjects softly, breaking the moment.

Max nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to you. Gently, he pulls away enough to see your face.

“Come on, schatje. We’ll have more privacy in my room.” His voice is almost a whisper. You nod, letting go of him and letting him guide you. His arm wraps protectively around your shoulders, holding you close to his side. Sophie and Victoria lead the way.

The elevator ride is silent, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Even once you’re in the room, no one speaks. You sit on the sofa, still wrapped in Max’s embrace. Sophie hands you a water bottle, and you whisper a soft thank you.

The knock on the door is almost startling. Victoria opens it to reveal two police officers. They introduce themselves as they step inside, taking seats across from you and Max. One officer pulls out a notepad, ready to begin.

“The hotel staff are providing us with the CCTV footage.” The kinder-looking officer says. “But we need your statement to build the case. Can you start by telling us what happened, Miss Wilkins?”

“It’s Verstappen,” Max corrects firmly. The officer looks momentarily confused. “We’re married. It’s Y/N Verstappen.”

The officers exchange a quick glance before the kinder one nods. “Mrs. Verstappen, can you tell us what happened?”

The words make your heart flutter momentarily, but the weight of the situation quickly crushes any joy. Taking a shaky breath, you grip Max’s hand tightly as he laces his fingers with yours, grounding you.

“I was on my way to the bathroom when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Before I could react, a hand was in my hair. I knew it was my dad.” You explain, your voice trembling. You pause to wipe at your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “He dragged me into the stairwell. He kept asking me about something Max did... something about investors.”

You glance at Max, confusion in your eyes. Max’s jaw tightens as guilt flashes across his face. He now understands why your father attacked you—it’s his fault.

“When I told him I didn’t know, he hit me.” You continue, your voice cracking. “He was about to do it again when Max arrived and stopped him.”

The officer nods, his expression sympathetic. “Has this happened before? The abuse?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “Since I was young.”

The pity in their eyes makes your stomach turn.

“When was the last time, before today?” The second officer asks.

You don’t need to think about it. The memory is vivid.

“A week or so after we got married.” You say.

You went and opened the door, taking a step back when you saw who it was. Your heart dropped.

“Well, look who it is? The new bride. Come give a hug to your father.” Your dad opened his arms for a hug, Jos was standing behind him. Awkwardly. This feels like an ambush. You felt so naïve thinking that you wouldn’t have to deal with your father anymore. That you’re free from him. Your father hated that you didn’t instantly follow his rules, so he took a step closer. You then moved closer as well and opened your arms for a hug, he pulled you closer roughly, on hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the roots, the other on your arm. It would leave a bruise if he held you slightly harder. You held in the whimper that threatened to escape. “Why did it take so long for you to open the door?” He didn’t wait or expect an answer. “Just because you’re married, doesn’t mean you can forget what I taught you.” Moving your head back, you instinctively held into his arm for balance. “And what are you wearing? Hmm? I thought I sent you clothes. I’ve spent so much to make you the perfect wife, and this is how you are.”

"Did someone come?" Max called out from the living room, removing his headset. You shrank back, taking a few steps away from your father. Max rounded the corner, his sharp eyes darting between your pale face and the men at the door. “What are you two doing here?”

“What?” Max’s voice is laced with disbelief. You glance at him, biting your bottom lip.

“He didn’t hit me.” You clarify. “He just pulled my hair.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Max whispers, running a hand down his face in frustration. “You should’ve told me.”

“You stopped him. You told him not to speak to me again.” You say softly, placing your hand on his thigh in an attempt to comfort him. Max looks down at your hand, his heart breaking further. Here you are, bruised and hurting, yet still trying to console him.

“Did Jos witness everything?” The officer asks, pulling your attention back.

“Yes. Today and last time.” You reply. Max’s anger bubbles to the surface.

“We want restraining orders against both of them. And we’ll sue.” His voice is sharp, final.

The officer nods. “That’s the next step. With the footage, this will be a straightforward case.”

“Okay, just a step by step, but with the cameras here, it will be an easy case.” The officer said looking grim. “Mr. Verstappen you attacked Mr. Wilkins, right?”

“Yes, he was hitting my wife.” Max admitted not fearing anything that could come his way.

“It was self-defence.” Sophie added, the officers spared her a glance.

The officers continue asking questions and taking statements from Sophie and Victoria before leaving. Once they’re gone, Sophie and Victoria ensure you have everything you need before saying their goodbyes, leaving you and Max alone.

The silence feels heavy again. Max moves quickly, grabbing the ice bucket that had been delivered earlier. He wraps some ice in a towel and approaches you with careful intent.

“Let me do it.” You say softly, reaching for the towel, but Max doesn’t let go. His frown deepens as he presses the cold compress gently to your cheek, his gaze focused solely on the bruised skin. He still won’t meet your eyes. “Max.” You call his name quietly, but he doesn’t look up. You try again. “Max, please.” Finally, his eyes flicker to yours, and what you see in them breaks your heart. Pain. Guilt. Anguish. “What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice trembling slightly.

“How can you ask me that?” He says, his voice cracking. “Your dad has hurt you twice since we got married, and I didn’t even know. I failed to protect you. Both times. And today... today was my fault. I tried to punish him for what he did to you, but all I did was give him a reason to come after you again. I wasn’t there for you before we got married, and I couldn’t protect you now. I—” His voice falters, and you see tears welling in his eyes. Max is strong, he doesn’t care about a lot of things to cry, but you? He cares about you, knowing and seeing what happened to you is tearing him apart.

“Max.” You say, your hand moving to cover his where it rests on your cheek. You sit up straighter, shifting until you’re kneeling on the sofa to face him. Your hands cup his face, forcing him to look at you.

“I’d still be with him—or worse—if it weren’t for you. You saved me, Max. I’d go through it all again if it meant I’d end up here, with you.”

Your words are soft but resolute. You brush away a stray tear that escapes down his cheek, and Max leans into your touch, his eyes searching yours.

“I love you.” You whisper, the words slipping out effortlessly. They feel right. True.

There it was as simple as that; the words just left you easily and smoothly.

Max freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He pulls back slightly, and your hands fall away from his face. The smile you wore drops, replaced by panic as your mind races. Did you misread everything? Was Max only being kind because he felt obligated?

“I—uh—I’m sorry if I overstepped.” You stammer, standing abruptly. Your nails dig into your palms as you try to steady your breathing. “This isn’t what you wanted. It’s not what you chose. Of course, you don’t feel the same. I’m sorry—”

“Wait.” Max grabs your hand before you can reach the door, turning you to face him again. His hands rest firmly on your shoulders, grounding you. “Just... wait.” You stop, your heart hammering in your chest. His touch is gentle as he cups your jaw, his thumbs brushing your skin. “I wasn’t expecting it.” He admits softly. “I was surprised, confused, afraid... I still am. I don’t want you to think you love me just because I got you away from your dad. I don’t want that to cloud your feelings. If you love me, I need it to be for me. For who I am.”

His words make your chest ache, but then his next words make your heart soar.

“Because I love you.” He says. “So much.”

Tears well in your eyes again as your voice trembles. “You do?”

Max nods, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I’ve thought about this a lot. About us. About how I never wanted this marriage to be just an arrangement. I love you, Y/N.”

You let out a teary laugh, and Max’s lips curve into a smile at the sound.

“I love you for you.” you assure him. “I promise. This may not have been what we planned, but I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I have you.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, and then his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft and tender, a promise in itself. You kiss him back, savouring the moment. When you finally pull away, you rest your head against his shoulder, letting out a long sigh.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask quietly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course.” His answer comes without hesitation.

Max gives you one of his shirts, and you retreat to the bathroom to change. When you return, he’s gone, but moments later, he reappears, holding your makeup remover from your room next door. His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you standing by the bed, wearing his shirt.

You’re too exhausted to notice the way his breath hitches, the way he has to look away for a moment to compose himself.

That night, you both fall asleep quickly. Max spoons you from behind, mindful of your injuries, his presence a shield against the nightmares that might come. In his arms, you feel safe, loved.

When Max wakes before you the next morning, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed. The warmth of his arms around you fades as he quietly gets out of bed, careful not to disturb you. He pauses at the edge of the mattress, his gaze lingering on your peaceful face. The bruise on your cheek looks slightly less angry now, but it’s still a stark reminder of everything you endured. Max clenches his fists as guilt and anger surge again, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. You need him to be strong, not consumed by his own emotions.

Max dresses quickly and heads into the small living area of the hotel suite, pulling out his phone. The police had assured him they’d be in touch for follow-ups, but Max wasn’t going to wait passively. He searches for a lawyer, determined to take swift action. Restraining orders would be just the start.

By the time he finishes his call, Sophie is knocking softly at the door. He lets her in, and she immediately places a comforting hand on his arm.

“How’s she doing?” Sophie asks, her voice gentle.

“She’s sleeping,” Max replies, his tone heavy. “I just... I don’t know what else I could’ve done to stop this.”

Sophie shakes her head. “Max, none of this is your fault. You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever has. She knows that. She feels it.”

Max nods but doesn’t respond. His mother’s words offer little solace when he feels like he’s failed you in so many ways. Sophie doesn’t push him further, sensing his need for space, and instead busies herself in the kitchenette, preparing tea for when you wake up.

You stir a little later, the ache in your body making it hard to move. But the warmth lingering on your skin from Max’s embrace makes you smile faintly, even through the pain. Slowly, you sit up. The events of the previous day flood back, and a lump forms in your throat.

Pulling on the robe draped over a nearby chair, you shuffle into the living area, rubbing your eyes. Max is pacing near the window, phone in hand, while Sophie sits at the small dining table, sipping tea. When she sees you, she smiles softly and stands.

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” She asks, her concern evident.

“I’m okay.” You reply quietly, though the rasp in your voice betrays your exhaustion. Sophie doesn’t miss it and quickly ushers you to the table.

“Sit. I made tea. It’ll help.” She places a cup in front of you before brushing her hand gently over your hair. “Max will be here in a minute.”

Max, who has noticed you now, ends his call abruptly and strides over. His eyes scan your face, and though he tries to hide it, you catch the flicker of pain in his expression.

“You should’ve stayed in bed.” He says, his tone soft but firm.

“I’ve rested enough.” you reply, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, Max.”

He kneels beside you, his hand covering yours on the table. “You don’t have to be fine; you know. Not yet.”

His words sink in, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I know.” you whisper. “But I can’t let him take everything from me.”

Max nods, understanding. “We’re going to make sure he doesn’t. The lawyer is already working on the restraining order. I’ve also asked them to look into filing charges. I’m not letting this go by easily.”

The fire in his voice sends a wave of comfort through you. He wasn’t just saying these things for your sake. He meant every word.

Sophie steps back, giving the two of you space, and Max pulls his chair closer to yours.

“Today.” He says gently, “We’re going to take it one step at a time. First, we’ll see what the police need. Then, we’ll figure out what’s next. And after that... we’ll go home. Together.”

The word home makes your chest tighten. For so long, that word had no meaning. But now, with Max, it feels like you’re finally finding what it truly means.

Later in the day, after a follow-up with the police and some much-needed rest, you and Max prepare to leave the hotel.

Max’s phone buzzing insistently had been a constant backdrop for the past half-hour, and finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Max, just answer your phone.” You said, pressing an ice pack to your cheek and watching him pace. “It keeps ringing.”

With a sigh, Max glanced at the screen before reluctantly accepting the call.

“Hello?... Yes… what? How did they know?... No, just the police officers and—” He paused, his expression darkening as he ran a hand through his hair. “No, I think I said it in the hallway as well… fuck… okay, yeah… no… I said no, and I mean it. It’s no one’s business… No, because nothing in my contract says I have to… Mate, look, it happened. I’m not happy about it, but it happened. End of story… I’m going back to Monaco.”

He hung up, exhaling sharply as he tossed his phone onto the table. His jaw was tight, and it was clear the conversation had rattled him.

“What was that about?” You asked, wincing as you spoke. Your cheek throbbed, and smiling was definitely off the table until the swelling subsided.

Max hesitated, glancing at you before answering. “Someone from the hotel leaked that we’re married.”

Your eyes widened, and you turned toward the mirror to check your face again, trying to process his words. “What? How—how did they even know?”

“Don’t worry.” Max reassured you quickly, stepping closer. “We don’t have to say anything. I’ve always kept my private life private, and the police won’t release any details.”

“What about the officiant?” you asked, suddenly worried about the people who had been involved in your ceremony.

“If he says anything, he can kiss his license goodbye,” Max replied firmly. “And if your father tries to use this, his reputation—what’s left of it—will be done.”

You nodded, feeling a bit reassured by Max’s determination. But he wasn’t finished.

“Now, I need you to listen to me and think carefully before you decide.” His tone was serious, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “There are two options: One, we can go out and face the crowd together. Or two, I can go out first, and you can follow later when things calm down.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of stepping out there alone. “Do they have my face?”

Max’s silence was answer enough. Your heart sank, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t want to be on my own.”

Max’s shoulders relaxed, and he stepped closer to you.

“Alright, we’ll leave together,” he said gently, taking your hands in his. “But you need to know they’ll be taking pictures of you now. A lot. Once this is public, there’s no going back.”

You swallowed hard but nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t have social media anyway.”

Max’s lips twitched into a small smile. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, careful not to hurt your swollen cheek.

Sophie insists on staying until the very last moment, ensuring you have everything you need before saying goodbye. Her hug is warm and lingering, and she whispers in your ear, “You’re part of this family now. Don’t ever forget that.”

Victoria joins in with her own hug, giving Max a teasing look. “Take care of her, Max. You’re not off the hook just because she married you.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles. “I know, I know.”

Max checked out of the hotel while you stood close to him, your fingers brushing against his arm for comfort, taking his left hand, you felt the smooth texture, looking down you see his wedding ring. Max smiles and presses your sunglasses up your nose. A Red Bull cap sat snugly on your head, and sunglasses shielded your swollen eyes. Even before stepping outside, the roar of the crowd was deafening, fans chanting and calling Max’s name.

“Stay close to me.” Max murmured, his arm slipping protectively around your shoulders.

The moment the doors opened, the world exploded with flashing cameras and shouting voices. Your head dipped instinctively; the weight of the crowd’s energy overwhelming. Max’s arm tightened around you as the bodyguards formed a path to the car, their presence the only barrier between you and the chaos.

The path was narrow, people pressing in on all sides, and you felt your heart race as the space seemed to close in. Flashes of light blinded you even through your sunglasses, and questions were hurled at Max, some directed at you. But he didn’t stop. His focus was solely on getting you to the car.

At last, you reached the vehicle, and a breath of relief escaped you as you slid into the seat. Max lingered outside for a moment, signing a few autographs for fans before quickly ducking into the car beside you.

His face was drawn, his usual calm replaced by a tension you rarely saw in him. You placed a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently.

“That was something.” You said, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Tell me about it.” Max muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He glanced at you when he felt your touch and gave you a small, weary smile. Lifting your hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it before threading his fingers through yours.

The car hummed quietly as it carried you both toward the airport, leaving the chaos of the crowd behind. Max’s hand remained in yours the entire ride, a silent reassurance that, no matter how overwhelming things became, you wouldn’t have to face them alone.

Thankfully, everything went smoothly with the lawsuit against your father. While the statute of limitations on the abuse you experienced as a child had already passed, Jos provided compelling testimony as a witness, and the case concluded without much trouble. There were some whispers in the media, but Max spared no expense to ensure the story stayed out of the spotlight, keeping your life as private as possible.

Since that fateful day at the hotel, your life had changed dramatically. Your belongings had been moved into Max's room, and now you slept together every night. Max rarely went anywhere without you if he could help it, and the connection between you only deepened with time.

You’d also applied to art school and were now waiting for the new semester to begin. Alex, ever your cheerleader, was ecstatic about the news, eagerly discussing your potential and the projects you could take on. Meanwhile, Charles had taken to bragging that he’d known about your marriage before anyone else on the grid, which only fuelled the Lestappen theories online, especially with your friendship with Alex adding to the chatter.

The windows in your shared Monaco apartment were wide open, letting in a soft sea breeze as you sat in front of a canvas, your playlist softly filling the room. The view was breathtaking, but you were lost in your work, a blend of vibrant colours slowly taking shape on the canvas. You didn’t hear Max enter, fresh from the gym. He’d tried to get you to join him countless times, but you always resisted, finding your balance in Pilates a few times a week.

Max paused when he saw you, your brush gliding across the canvas as you mouthed the lyrics to the song playing in your ears. The sight made his heart swell—this was his proudest achievement, seeing you at peace, content, and thriving. Quietly, he walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, startling you enough that you let out a squeak, dropping your brush.

“Max! The floor!” You whined, glaring down at the smear of paint on the floorboards.

“It doesn’t matter.” He muttered, his lips brushing your neck before his gaze turned to the canvas. “Again?”

“Not my fault you’re my muse.” You replied cheekily, turning your head to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The painting was of his eye this time—just a close-up as part of a larger composition.

“Would you like me to paint another man’s eyes?” You teased, raising a brow as you wiped your brush on a cloth.

Max smirked, pulling you closer. “No. Just mine, Mrs. Verstappen.”

“That’s what I thought, Mr. Verstappen.” You shot back with a grin.

As you turned to grab another brush, Max pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to you. “I got you something.”

You blinked in surprise as he opened his hand, revealing a pair of earrings—your Tiffany earrings, the ones you’d had to sell to survive. Your breath caught as you reached out to touch them, the memories of that difficult time flashing through your mind.

“Max… how did you…”

“I tracked them down.” He said softly, his blue eyes full of warmth. “I know how much they meant to you, and now they can mean something happy again.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He interrupted, his tone firm yet gentle. “You deserve to have everything you lost, and more.”

You smiled through your tears and threw your arms around his neck, holding him close. “Thank you.” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Max kissed the top of your head, his hands stroking your back.

“Anything for you.” He murmured. “Always.”

Main Taglist: @gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life . @a-beaverhausen .

Forced Taglist:

@itgirlofthecenturysposts

Down The Road (F1 x Reader) SMAU Season 1

>> Down The Road 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous Part : Next Part

Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @laura-naruto-fan1998 , @jpg3 , @tsukishimawhore , @minkyungseokie , @roseseraj , @bbhyuneee , @omgsuperstarg (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

A/N : I'm trying to write in time for the #QatarGP because I want the storyline in Part 2 to continue in real-time (spoiler alert: from Episode 3 onwards, there will be a one-year time skip). I hope you enjoy the racing and the fic too. If you do, don't forget to like and reblog. It's great encouragement for me, who has been sitting with a sore back at the computer for hours to write this SMAU fic

note ; age-gap, a bit of mentor/student relationship

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Season 1 : ── 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐬 ── (Lewis Hamilton x Reader) S1 : E02 𝐾-𝑝𝑜𝑝 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

Beyond the thrilling competition on the F1 track, the off-track relationships of F1 drivers have also become an exciting topic for fans. That's precisely what's happening with Y/N, a rising star in motorsport, whose relationship with Lewis Hamilton, a seven-time World Champion, is being closely watched. Is it real, or is it just a theory from fans? It's a tough question to answer definitively, as only they can shed light on the situation.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : GQ Sports (On YouTube)

On this episode of "Actually Me" Formula 1 driver Y/N goes undercover on the internet and responds to real comments from fans on Twitter, Instagram, Wikipedia, Reddit, YouTube, and TikTok. How does it feel to be the only woman racing in Formula 1 today? How does she handle the pressure of competing in a male-dominated sport? Which driver is she closest to? And the most pressing question everyone wants to know : What is the true nature of her relationship with Lewis Hamilton? Are they friends, colleagues, competitors, or something more?

For this final question, she simply laughs and replies cryptically, “You guys should ask him (rather than asking me), because I’m curious too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : Formula 1: Drive to Survive (On Netflix)

In the show “Formula 1: Drive to Survive” Lewis Hamilton finally opens up about his relationship with Y/N for the first time after it became a hot topic on Twitter world recently. Hamilton said “It’s hard to explain, but we have a very special bond because we’ve known each other for a long time,” He further defined her as the ‘special one’ in his life, yet he still remained enigmatic regarding whether their relationship contains romantic aspect or not.

Additionally, he delves into their personal closeness, mentioning that Y/N is very much a Gen Z personified, enjoying Twitter and often sending funny memes to everyone. He humorously reveals that she sometimes replies to him "OK Boomer," when he doesn't quite grasp the memes she sends.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : Lewis Hamilton's Instagram Story (update)

Lewis Hamilton posted a picture of himself wearing friendship bracelets and tagging @Y/N on Instagram Story before deleting it 11 minutes after

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : Twitter (update)

Rumors about a romantic relationship between Y/N and Lewis Hamilton started circulating after a Twitter exchange between the two, leading fans to speculate and gather evidence suggesting they might be dating.

This wave of speculation has received both positive and negative reactions from fans. Some fans disagree with the dating rumors, while others support them. drawing parallels to the F1 version of Tom Holland and Zendaya

While the rumors have been hot topics among F1 fans on Twitter, there has been no confirmation from either Y/N or Hamilton.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : Y/N’s instagram (update)

"Get in, loser We're going to do hotlap"

Y/N posted on Instagram that she will be doing a hot lap for the team's VIP guest in #QatarGP There's speculation that the guest might be a fellow racing driver like Alex, Albon, or George Russell, especially after she previously did a hot lap with Russell without any sign of Lewis Hamilton

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)

"Ready to go with the winner @Y/N"

Lewis Hamilton posted on Instagram, confirming that he is the VIP guest who will get a hot lap with Y/N. Followed by a massive response from fellow F1 drivers and fans who are closely watching their relationship.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : Y/N and Lewis Hamilton's instagram (update)

Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have arrived at the Lusail International Circuit to prepare for the #QatarGP race tonight. The media has been informed by their respective teams that there will be no interviews or comments regarding the rumors about them. They will solely focus on their performance in this race.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Source : @PopBase

Reportedly the famous spanish singer Úrsula attended the Formula 1 race at #QatarGP amidst fresh rumors among fans that she might be rekindling her relationship with Y/N. This comes after her recent divorce from the Hollywood actor last month.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝙏𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙙 (in the next chapter)

If you like it, don't forget to like and reblog for me.

Cr.https://x.com/PopBase/status/1708629114025116047?s=20https://twitter.com/GridRivalhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b025AznQiGk&ab_channel=GQSportshttps://www.instagram.com/p/CyBimW-Ocyr/

— The Heart That Remained (Vander x f!Reader)

Summary: A monster, once a beloved protector, now haunts the tunnels of Zaun. The creature is revealed to be Vander, twisted by pain and rage, leaving his daughters Vi and Jinx to grapple with the truth. As a battle unfolds, past memories and present dangers clash, forcing a choice between saving Vander’s humanity or ending his torment. Love, guilt, and hope intertwine in this intense, emotional confrontation.

Word Count: 5.2k (im a jerk for angst)

Content/Warning: Angst to Fluff, less mention y/n until the ending, a bit bloody?, AND VERY ANGSTY

🖋️ Author’s Note: AS I PROMISED I WOULD MAKE A ANGSTY FIC ABOUT VANDER, and i promise you its worth the while i did my best to put into detail of the character’s personality and the places. It took me 3 days and i’m very happy how it turned out! Before yall read this maybe someone you haven’t watched S2, there will be spoilers obv— and i recommend yall listen to Dead Island Trailer Theme song while watching this cause personally it juST MATCHED THE SCENE IT- i hope yall enjoy my writing this is my 2nd fic! Please comment your feedback and simply support me by like and reblogs! Thank you very much yall!<3

After the chaos of the Piltover Council meeting, guilt gnawed at you like a relentless, suffocating force. Deep down, you knew Jinx—Vander’s daughter—was the cause of the devastation that had torn through the heart of the city. You couldn’t escape the weight of the promises you’d made long ago: to protect Vi and Powder when they were still just children. Those vows now felt like shattered glass, each piece embedded in your soul. You had failed them. And now, hidden behind the mask of an investigator, you carried your shame like a cloak. It was the only armor that allowed you to survive, to push down the searing ache that never seemed to go away. Months passed, and you thought you had found your rhythm in the cold, distant monotony of your work. Then Ambessa hired you. The aftermath of the beast’s rampage in the prison—the blood, the carnage—shattered that fragile peace. It was the most grotesque thing you’d ever seen. The nightmare still burned in your memory, its horrors etched into your mind like permanent scars. The beast, its monstrous presence a cruel reminder of the violence lurking in every shadow, had torn through the fragile walls of your life, dredging up the dangerous ties to the past you couldn’t outrun.

“How could this beast come out of nowhere?” You whispered, the question hanging in the air like a death sentence. Ambessa’s gaze locked onto you, icy and unyielding. The weight of her authority pressed down on you, suffocating. She leaned forward, her voice low, controlled—laced with quiet menace. “You’re asking the wrong question,” she said, her words like a blade. “It doesn’t matter how it got here. What matters is that it’s here now. And we don’t have the luxury of waiting for answers. We deal with it. We don’t waste time wondering why or how—it’s already cost us too much.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, a flicker of impatience cutting through her otherwise steady demeanor. “If you want to stay in this game, you’ll find out who—or what—created this monster. And you’ll do it fast. Before it costs us more.” You nod, the weight of Ambessa’s words settling heavily in your chest. Without a second thought, you move past the cells, your gaze flicking over them with practiced detachment. You push down the swirling thoughts threatening to overwhelm you, focusing on the task at hand. But as you walk, something pulls your attention—a cell, its door locked with an unnerving sense of finality. Something about it doesn’t sit right, a tension building in your gut.

Before you can step closer to investigate, the soft, rhythmic chime of the elevator cuts through the silence. The doors slide open, and out steps Commander Caitlyn Kiramman, her posture rigid, her face set in the same steely expression you’ve come to recognize. She doesn’t glance at you immediately, but when she does, her eyes flicker with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Commander,” you murmur, your voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken. You can’t help but wonder if she’s here to speak of the very thing that’s been gnawing at your thoughts—the beast, the violence, the past that refuses to stay buried. “How is your investigation?” Caitlyn’s voice was steady, her usual sternness masking the exhaustion you knew she carried. Her sharp blue eyes flicked over you, searching for any hint of progress. You hesitated, your gaze drifting back to the closed cell. “It’s… ongoing,” you replied, the words clipped, as your unease bubbled beneath the surface. She followed your line of sight, noticing your fixation. Without waiting for an invitation, Caitlyn strode past you, her footsteps purposeful, echoing in the silence as she approached the cell. “What is it about this one?” she asked, her tone even, though her curiosity was evident. You didn’t answer immediately, the heaviness in your chest growing. “It’s locked,” you said finally, the words feeling too small for the weight of your unease. “But it’s too quiet. Too… deliberate.”Caitlyn reached out, resting her hand lightly on the cold metal bars. “Let’s open it,” she said decisively, her command leaving no room for argument. The tension in her voice betrayed her own unease, though her face remained calm and unreadable.

As the cell door creaked open, the air grew heavy with an acrid, chemical tang. There, sitting upright in the dim light, was a figure that made your breath hitch—Dr. Reveck. His sunken, hollow eyes locked onto yours, recognition flashing briefly across his face. Then came the cold, calculating glare of someone who had already weighed and dismissed your worth. “You’re persistent,” he murmured, his voice low and rasping, as though it hadn’t been used in days. “But persistence doesn’t make you immune to mistakes.” His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that never reached his eyes. “What are you here for? To make another mistake?” Before you could respond, Caitlyn’s sharp footsteps echoed through the corridor, her tone cutting the tension. “Dr. Reveck,” she began, her words laced with authority, “you’re going to answer for what you’ve done. Whatever experiments you’ve been running—whatever monsters you’ve unleashed—it ends now.” Reveck’s expression didn’t waver, though his gaze shifted to Caitlyn with a disconcerting calm. “Answers,” he said, almost mockingly. “The only people who demand them are those too weak to seek the truth themselves.” The sudden clang of metal doors opening at the end of the hall signaled Ambessa’s arrival. Her towering figure filled the space, the weight of her presence silencing any retort Caitlyn might have had. Her eyes swept the scene before resting on Reveck. “This is the man responsible?” she asked, her voice an authoritative rumble. Reveck tilted his head slightly, observing Ambessa with a detached curiosity. “And you are?” he asked, his tone clinical, as though dissecting her existence. Ambessa took a step closer, her imposing frame making the cramped cell feel even smaller. “I’m the one deciding whether you’re worth keeping alive,” she said, her voice unwavering. “And right now, you’re not making a good case.”

The tension in the room was palpable, your pulse pounding in your ears as you stood frozen, caught between these forces of will. Caitlyn glanced at you, her expression tight, as if silently willing you to act or speak. Dr. Reveck finally turned back to you, his gaze sharper now, as though seeing past your mask of authority to the pain you’d been carrying. “Tell me,” he said softly, almost conversationally, “are you here to find answers, or are you just running from your own failures?” Before you could answer Dr. Reveck’s cutting remark, the sharp clink of handcuffs broke the silence. Caitlyn had stepped forward, her features stern as she clasped the restraints over Reveck’s thin wrists. “You’ll answer for your crimes,” she said coldly. “But your cooperation might still buy you a sliver of mercy.” Reveck barely flinched, his pale eyes darting between Caitlyn and Ambessa as if calculating the odds of survival. He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Mercy,” he echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. “A curious word coming from Piltover’s enforcers. Tell me, Commander Kiramman—how does mercy reconcile with the blood already on your hands?” Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, Ambessa’s voice rumbled from behind her. “Enough.” Her tone brooked no argument as she stepped into the cell, her towering figure filling the cramped space. “Your investigation isn’t finished here,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with a commanding weight. “You’ve uncovered the man, but not the monster.”

Reveck’s lips curled faintly, a reaction as subtle as it was unsettling. “The beast,” he murmured, as though savoring the word. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize. Closer than any of you would dare admit.” Ambessa ignored him, her gaze still fixed on you. “Find it,” she said firmly. “Before this trail goes cold and more lives are lost.”

Reveck’s smile widened slightly, his voice taking on a cryptic edge. “And when you find it,” he said, his tone almost taunting, “you might not like what you uncover.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air as you exchanged a brief, tense glance with Caitlyn. Without another word, Ambessa turned and walked toward the cell door, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Caitlyn followed, her hand lingering on her holstered weapon as if still on edge. You stayed behind for a moment longer, your gaze locked with Reveck’s, searching for something in his unflinching expression—a hint of truth, or maybe just an answer you weren’t ready to face.

You stepped out of the cell, the cold air biting against your skin. The echo of Ambessa’s commanding words and Reveck’s cryptic warnings swirled in your head, mixing with Caitlyn’s sharp presence. Every step away from the cell felt heavier, the pressure of what you’d just witnessed settling into the pit of your stomach. Reveck’s words wouldn’t leave you. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.” They repeated in your mind like a haunting refrain, twisting your thoughts into knots. What did he mean? And why did it feel like there was more truth in his taunts than anyone cared to admit? The sterile prison corridor seemed darker now, its shadows crawling up the walls like something alive. A prickle of unease traced up your spine. For a moment, you paused, glancing back at the dim outline of the cell. It felt as though something—or someone—was watching. The air was too quiet, heavy with an unsaid warning. You shook your head and looked down, trying to steady your breaths, but your heart stopped cold. There, lying on the cold, stone floor just ahead of you, was a strand of blue hair. It glimmered faintly in the pale light, its color unmistakable. Powder. Your knees threatened to buckle, but you forced yourself to stay upright. A rush of memories flooded back—her laughter, her wide, curious eyes, the promises you made to her and Vi. And then the explosion, the chaos, and everything that came after. Your breathing quickened as you knelt down and gingerly picked up the strand, its texture soft but alien, almost too delicate for something so steeped in blood and tragedy. How did it get here? And why now?

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, the walls pressing in tighter. Your pulse thundered in your ears as a hundred questions screamed in your mind, all vying for answers. But one thought rose above them all, clear and sharp as a knife:

She was here.

And if she was here, then what had you missed? What was waiting just beyond the next shadow? You clutched the strand tighter, a knot of fear and determination tightening in your chest. You couldn’t let this go. Not now. Not after everything. With trembling hands and racing thoughts, you turned and walked toward the exit, but every step away from that cell felt like stepping deeper into the unknown.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, the cool night air biting at your skin. Your feet moved again, this time carrying you toward Zaun. If there was even the faintest chance she was there, you had to follow it. Whether you were ready or not, the path ahead was clear. You had to find her. And this time, you couldn’t fail. You had been at it for hours—no, days—piecing together fragments of evidence that felt more like whispers in the dark. Each lead took you deeper into Zaun’s underbelly: a blood trail smeared across cracked pavement, scorch marks that didn’t belong, and the eerie testimonies of those too afraid to say much at all. The closer you got, the more everything started pointing to one place. You’d seen the tunnel marked on old maps of Zaun—a forgotten artery deep within the district, barely mentioned anymore except in hushed tones. Something had happened there, something people were afraid to talk about. Standing at its mouth now, you could feel the weight of the place pressing on you like a physical force. The green chemfog swirled thickly, the heavy air carrying a stench of rust, decay, and something faintly metallic. It was quiet, unnervingly so, the usual hum of Zaun’s machinery conspicuously absent. You stepped forward cautiously, every instinct screaming at you to turn back. But the faintest trace of blood along the ground caught your attention, leading you further in. Whatever had been here—or was still here—wasn’t human. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a hunt for a monster. This was something personal, a shadow from your past reaching out to drag you back. As you stood at the edge of the tunnel, Dr. Reveck’s voice echoed in your mind, his words heavy with warning.

“You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.”

The memory of his cold, detached tone sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to brush it off, focus on the task at hand. But it wasn’t easy. There was something about the way he’d looked at you, almost pitying, that gnawed at your resolve.

“You might not like what you uncover.”

The blood trail led further into the shadows, growing thicker, fresher. Each step you took seemed to confirm the truth of his cryptic warning. This wasn’t just a trail—it was a trap, a path carved by something that knew you’d follow. Despite yourself, fear clawed at the edges of your mind. You gripped your weapon tightly, the sound of your own breathing loud in the suffocating silence. If Dr. Reveck was right, if it was closer than you realized, then maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t the beast you were hunting anymore. Your heart pounded in your chest as you ventured deeper into the tunnel, every nerve on edge. The oppressive darkness seemed alive, pressing down on you as if the walls themselves wanted to swallow you whole. Then, breaking through the suffocating silence, you heard it—a voice. A familiar cry echoed through the hollow passage, carrying a name you hadn’t heard in years.

“Powder.”

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, your feet carried you toward the sound. The cry was raw, desperate, and unmistakable. It clawed at the memories you’d buried deep—days spent in the smog-filled streets of Zaun, promises whispered in the dead of night. You turned a corner, and there they were. The sight stopped you cold. Vi was locked in a brutal struggle, her movements sharp and relentless as she fought the towering monstrosity before her. Jinx—no, Powder—was nearby, her chaotic energy radiating even in the chaos, her laughter twisted with something between joy and pain. The beast, its hulking form both animal and something far worse, loomed over them. You stood frozen for a moment, unable to reconcile the scene before you. The two sisters you had sworn to protect were here, together again, fighting a nightmare brought to life. This wasn’t just a fight—it was their fight. But as the beast’s roar shook the walls of the tunnel, you knew you couldn’t just stand there. Not this time. You swung your electro-baton again, sending a crack of electricity through the beast’s thick hide. It staggered back, growling low, but you were ready to strike again. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like ages cut through the chaos, sharp and frantic.

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned, breath catching. There, standing in front of you with wide, shocked eyes, was Jinx. But it wasn’t just her surprise that caught your attention—it was the frantic energy radiating from her as her gaze flickered between you and the monster. Before you could even process the situation, Vi’s voice rang out, filled with desperation. “Get out of the way!” she yelled, her eyes locking onto the beast just as it made a move in your direction. The words barely registered before you heard the guttural growl of the creature, its monstrous form lunging toward you, faster than you could react. Your instincts kicked in just in time as you dove to the side, pushing Jinx out of the way and out of the path of the beast. In the chaos of the moment, you felt a sharp pang in your chest—Jinx’s face, twisted with a mixture of fear and resolve, flashed in your mind for just a second. She wasn’t ready to lose him again. But the situation was slipping further from control, and you couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Before you could strike, a hand shot out, gripping your arm with surprising strength. You whirled around, heart pounding, only to find Powder standing there. Her eyes were wide, frantic, pleading. “Stop!” she cried, her voice desperate, barely above a whisper. But it was enough to freeze you in place, your pulse hammering in your ears. The world seemed to slow as Powder’s frantic cry echoed in your mind.

“It’s Vander.”

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The name hung in the air, shattering everything you thought you knew. Your heart pounded against your ribs, memories of Vander flooding your mind—his hands, strong yet tender, holding you close during the darkest times. His laugh, the warmth he exuded when the world around you seemed so cold. He had been your everything. You had loved him with every fiber of your being. But this thing, this beast, it was not the man you had known. This creature, with its bloodshot eyes and twisted form, was not Vander. It couldn’t be. Your hands shook as you tightened your grip on the electro-baton, but it felt wrong—so wrong. The memories of him, so vivid and painful, clashed with the grotesque beast standing before you. You felt sick to your stomach, a wave of guilt crashing over you. You had failed him. Failed to save him. And now, you couldn’t even bring yourself to end the nightmare he had become. Your breath hitched as Powder stepped forward, desperation in her voice. “Please, Y/N, stop. I know it’s him. I can feel him in there. I won’t let you hurt him again.” Her words were a plea, a fragile hope in the storm. But your heart twisted with doubt. You could still hear the screams, the way the beast had ravaged everything in its path. And yet… something in Powder’s eyes, something in her raw desperation, made you falter.

The beast—Vander—lurched forward, its eyes locking onto you with an intensity that nearly paralyzed you. Every memory you had ever shared with him felt like it was being ripped from your chest.“Vander,” you whispered, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The weight of it crushed you. You had spent so many years believing that Vander was lost, that the man you loved was gone. But here he was, in some twisted form, and it was as if everything you had been through had led you to this moment. Powder’s voice trembled as she pleaded once more. “Please, Y/N. Trust me. It’s him. Don’t hurt him. He’s still in there.” The battle inside you was unbearable. Every part of you screamed to fight, to destroy the beast before it could hurt anyone else. But Powder’s face—the vulnerability, the fear—held you in place. Your heart ached for her, for the girl who had once been Powder, the girl who had believed so deeply in the man who had been Vander. And for a long moment, you did nothing. Your body, your mind, were paralyzed by the weight of it all. You wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that Vander was still there somewhere beneath that monstrous exterior. You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to break free. Slowly, shakily, you lowered the electro-baton, letting it fall to your side. It felt like an eternity, the weight of the decision heavier than any battle you had ever fought. The beast—Vander—let out a low growl, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, its glowing eyes softening. And then, before you could process what was happening, it lunged. In a split-second, you shoved Vi out of the way, your body reacting faster than your mind could follow. You felt the beast’s claws rake across your shoulder, pain searing through your skin. The world blurred for a moment, your vision flickering as you stumbled backward, feeling weaker by the second.

You wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that Vander was still there somewhere beneath that monstrous exterior. You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to break free. Slowly, shakily, you lowered the electro-baton, letting it fall to your side. It felt like an eternity, the weight of the decision heavier than any battle you had ever fought. The beast—Vander—let out a low growl, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, its glowing eyes softening. And then, before you could process what was happening, it lunged. In a split-second, you shoved Vi out of the way, your body reacting faster than your mind could follow. You felt the beast’s claws rake across your shoulder, pain searing through your skin. The world blurred for a moment, your vision flickering as you stumbled backward, feeling weaker by the second. And then, amidst the chaos, the word tore from your chest.

“Vander…”

The sound of his name was a raw, guttural cry, one that echoed through the tunnels, through your soul. The pain hit you harder than any wound could. Vander, that name, those memories—they tore you apart. You had vowed to protect Vi and Powder, to keep them safe from the horrors of the world, yet here you stood, helpless. The love you had for him, for both of them, never faded. But now? Now you wondered if you'd failed them all. Could you ever undo the damage, or was it too late to save any of them? This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be this. But here he was, and you couldn’t turn away. Not now. Not after everything.

As the beast—the twisted, monstrous form of Vander—pins you to the ground, his massive claw digs into your shoulder, a searing pain that nearly overwhelms you. Your body is trembling, pinned beneath his weight, but you find the strength to cry out. “Vander!” The word escapes your lips like a prayer, a cry full of pain, longing, and grief. For a fleeting moment, the ferocity in his bloodshot eyes falters. There’s a flicker of something, a split-second recognition that makes your heart ache with hope, even as your breath hitches in terror. The claws dig deeper, and for a second, you wonder if it’s all over. The beast’s heavy breaths rattle through your chest, but you can’t stop. This has to be the moment. This has to reach him. With what strength you have left, you lift your free hand and place it gently on his massive claw, the very one that could end your life. You speak the words that have haunted your thoughts, words full of both love and desperate sorrow, knowing they might be the last you ever speak to him.

“It’s me... your sunshine.”

The words hang in the air, fragile and raw, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop. The beast’s gaze flickers—just for a moment—as if the sound of your voice stirs something deep within him. There’s a trembling hesitation in his claw, as if he’s hearing something buried beneath the rage and the pain, something that reminds him of who he was. In the chaos of your heart, you realize your words are more than a plea. They’re a lifeline thrown into a sea of darkness, hoping that some part of Vander will catch it. For a heartbeat, you feel the world shift, the crushing weight of the beast’s form loosening as something human flickers in the depths of his eyes. His growls soften, his body stills, as if struggling against the flood of memories. Then, as if through a fog, his voice—gravelly, strained, broken—rumbles from the depths of his throat, just a whisper but heavy with a history that neither of you could erase.

“Y/N…?”

The name feels like a weight lifted off your chest, like the first breath after drowning. His voice is there, faint, but real. Vander is still in there. You can feel it—the man you loved, the one who had promised to always protect you, the one who had once held you close during the darkest nights, is right here in front of you. Tears blur your vision, and your body trembles, caught between the raw pain, the disbelief, and a flood of emotions you never thought you’d face again. With a trembling breath, you whisper, “It’s me, Vander… it’s your Y/N…” In that moment, his once ferocious red eyes flicker. A slow shift begins, and your heart seizes in your chest as you see something break through the fog—a glimmer of blue and green cutting through the fire. For a single, fleeting second, you see Vander there, in his eyes. The man you loved. The protector who had once carried you through the worst storms. It’s real. He’s still in there. The grip around you tightens, not with violence, but with a deep, consuming desperation. His body trembles with something far greater than rage—something more human. His chest releases a low, guttural breath, the growl that once shook the air now softened, trembling with the weight of all that he has become, all he’s lost.

He’s no longer the man you remember, not entirely. But he’s not the beast either. No longer fully consumed by it. It’s somewhere in between, and in that space, you cling to him like you’ve never clung to anything before. You feel his hands, so monstrous and terrifying in their size, holding you close— holding you. He pulls you in with a desperation that makes your chest ache, his form trembling as if he’s afraid you might slip away again, as if this might all vanish in an instant. The sheer weight of him, the warmth of his touch, releases everything you’ve buried deep inside—the fear, the questions, the pain, the grief. Every memory of him, of what you lost, surfaces and consumes you. Your sobs come, raw and uncontrollable. The sound fills the air between you, as you let go of everything you’ve carried alone all this time. And in the grip of this agony, in the midst of your sobbing breaths, you feel Vander—the man who once loved you—is still fighting to hold onto you, still fighting to be the protector he once was. His arms, still massive, still deadly, are now filled with tenderness. He doesn’t need to speak, not yet. His embrace says everything. He’s still here, he’s still fighting, and he hasn’t forgotten you. In that moment, you realize that the beast, the rage, the monstrous form—none of it can take away who he was, who he still is to you. Tears blur your vision even more, but you no longer try to stop them. You let them fall freely, because in the midst of the devastation, the pain, and the years you spent wondering if this day would ever come, you know— he’s here. Not just in body, but in soul. And you’ll hold on to him, no matter what form he takes. You’ll fight for him, just as he fought for you.

As Vander’s gaze shifts toward Powder and Vi, his monstrous form trembles slightly, and the flicker of recognition in his eyes softens further. Despite the beast he has become, there's a tenderness in the way he moves, his massive arm opening wide, offering a place for them to find solace in his embrace. The look in their eyes is a mix of agony and hope, the weight of everything they've endured written across their faces. It’s clear they’re torn between fear of what he’s become and the desire to believe that the father they once knew is still inside.

Without a word, you reach out, your voice quiet but full of emotion.

“Go to him. He’s still your father. He’s still here with us.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of years of grief, the ache of a lost family and the hope of its fragile restoration. Powder’s eyes fill with tears, and Vi, standing beside her, slowly steps forward. The two of them move together, drawn toward Vander’s open arms, like a long-buried longing finally being met. They collapse into his embrace, and the world around you seems to pause. Vander, in his monstrous form, holds them close, his massive arms gentle yet desperate, as though he’s afraid they might disappear if he holds them too loosely. The pain, the fear, all of it melts away in this moment, replaced by something simple—love. He’s still their father, still the protector who had raised them. Even now, with all the darkness and the destruction surrounding them, Vander is here, alive, and for this moment, whole.

And you stand back, watching them hold each other. The tears in your own eyes sting as you witness the reunion, knowing that, despite everything, the heart of the man you loved is still present. He is their father— your Vander—and for that, you are thankful.

vernonboxd 🎥 vernon x rockstar!reader.

movie nights are sacred to you and vernon. a little extra for my catch you when i can verse. ♡

ⓘ established/long-distance relationship, fluff, use of pet names, movie 'reviews' as headcanons. referenced this letterboxd list for some movies vernon has mentioned or recommended.

OOO VERNONBOXD.

Recent Reviews of letterboxd.com/11203km

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) ★★★★ Watched April 9, 2022

🐻‍❄️ says: visually pleasing, classic anderson. saoirse ronan if u read this im free on thursday night and would like to hang out. please respond to this and then hang out with me on thursday night when i'm free. (jk 🎸 ily)

🎸 says: apology not accepted ^ but i loved the tongue-in-cheek humor & deadpan dialogue. agatha & zero's romance >>> would watch again if i needed to see something pretty.

edited to add: if u need to see something pretty, just look in the mirror. ;) yours, 🐻‍❄️

Spirited Away (2001) ★★★★ 1/2 Watched June 10, 2023

🎸 says: breathtaking, show-stopping, one of ghibli's bests. a crown jewel of animation. incredibly word-building and i will die on that hill despite SOME PEOPLE'S contrasting opinions. i want it on record that i wanted to give this five stars. alas, 4 and 1/2 is a compromise.

🐻‍❄️ says: not arguing w a rockstar. whatever u say beautiful.

Luca (2021) ★★★★ Watched November 4, 2023

🎸 says: andiamo! has all the elements of a feel-good pixar flick. setting, dialogue, friendship. "we underdogs have to look out for each other, right?" need to go to italy. wink wink, nudge nudge.

🐻‍❄️ says: booking that flight rn. anyway: well-paced comedy, stunning animation, reminds me a lot of finding nemo. powerful & moving ending (surprisingly). can also open some discussion re: climate tolerance.

edited to add: wait you're kinda hot for that.. - 🎸

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) ★★★ Watched December 20, 2023

🐻‍❄️ says: one-time watch typa beat. peaked at the cinematography but story, script, and pacing could have been better. loses composure because of how fantastical it is. overall, just ok.

🎸 says: not much to say about this movie, but i did like the quote -- "to see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. that is the purpose of life." words to live by.

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) ★★★★★ Watched January 21, 2024

This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.

🐻‍❄️ says: can't wait to do laundry and taxes with you in this life. (:

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

One Last Time

Summary: There has been a bioterrorism attack; people are becoming undead monsters. Simon will stop at nothing to find you and see you again, even if it's for one last time.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: major death, angst, gore, violence, implied suicide

masterlist

Before Simon met you, he had struggled to get a good night's rest, memories of his past always coming back to haunt him, missions gone wrong, and thoughts of ‘what if’ coursing through his mind, keeping him awake. After he met you, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Finally, after what felt like centuries, he was able to sleep at least somewhat soundly throughout the night, with thoughts and memories of you. Those were his favorite dreams, dreams where he got to hear your voice, your laugh, anything that involved you. He especially loved seeing the way you would look at him, as if he was the most important person in the world, even though you had to remind him several times that he did, in fact, deserve the love, you gave him and more. Simon Riley will do whatever it takes to see that look on your face again, even if it is just one last time. 

It has been two months since the world came crashing down; a new bioweapon was released that turns people into terrifying and disgusting creatures who are no longer human once infected. They become monsters that will stop at nothing to fulfill the unstoppable hunger coursing through their veins for blood and gore. No one ever thought they would see the day when zombies would actually walk the Earth. Simon remembers when he first heard the terrible news; he was just getting back from a relatively easy mission when he got the news from Price. 

—-

“There’s nothing we can do anymore, Simon. This might just be the end of the world as we know it.” Price said, sounding hopeless, something that Simon had never thought he would hear from his strong-willed Captain before. 

The thought of you at home or at work alone, on the other side of the country, so far away from him. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t even want to think about it for fear of speaking it into existence. He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he called you. Simon’s heart was pounding in his ears, making the ringing of the line barely audible. He began to hold his breath; the longer it took for you to answer, the seconds felt like centuries. On the fourth ring, you answered the phone, not even able to greet him before he was already giving you orders, something he never does, hating to let you see that side of him, but when your life was on the line, it was something that had to be done. 

—---

That phone call was the last time Simon had heard your voice as he walked through the broken streets of your once lively neighborhood trying to find you, hoping with everything he had left that you listened to him and stayed safe. All you had to do was barricade yourself in your shared home; Simon was always a worrier when it came to your safety, teaching you how to correctly defend yourself with guns and knives should the need ever arise, making sure the house was constantly stocked full of emergency supplies such as first aid kits, nonperishable foods, and bottle water, something you always poked fun of him for asking if he was ready for the zombie apocalypse, little did you both know that a simple joke would soon quickly become a reality. In the back of his mind, he was very thankful that you, at the very least had enough supplies to last you a long time and keep yourself safe until he could get to you. 

As he walked closer and closer to your shared home, broken glass crunching under his heavy boots, Simon thought about the long journey here. After the last phone call he shared with you, it was too long after that electricity, the internet, and everything quickly stopped working all over the world. The only source of communication was radio transmission, but only if you were lucky enough to find a working generator hooked to a  radio station or one that was run on solar panels. Luckily, he did not need any of that to locate you, knowing exactly how to get back to you no matter what it takes, even if he has to walk the whole way by himself. 

Simon promised Price that whenever he was able, Simon would try to contact him and that once he found you safe and sound, he would meet Price and the rest of the task force at the safe house Gaz was at to regroup and create a haven for themselves and other survivors they should find along the way. Though, if Simon was being completely honest, he didn’t really care about finding or helping anyone else, at least not until he found you, the only thing still keeping him going, his light in the darkness. Even though he was fairly used to walking long distances, combat, and guerilla warfare, the more that got in his way to reaching you felt like another nail in the coffin. Sometimes, though Simon was lucky, he would find a car in working condition that still had a bit of gas left in it, so he was able to speed down the damaged roads covered in corpses, cars, and monsters. 

Simon sees it now, the place you both called home; over the last two months, the agriculture has run wild, the weeds and grass growing tall in the yard, your once carefully looked after garden of flowers and small fruits and vegetables destroyed by what he can only hope was wild animals. The familiar wooden steps groan under his added weight as Simon slowly ascends the stairs. He grabs the worn door handle to find it locked, taking that as a good sign, hoping you are safe inside, he reaches into his hidden pocket underneath his tactical vest and pulls out the small house key that you painted black with a tiny little ghost in the center telling him ‘it matched his aesthetic more’ his heart clenches at the memory afraid of what he will find behind the closed doors. 

Simon slides the key into the lock and turns it, causing it to click into place, again, he grabs the handle, turning it to push the door open only to be met with resistance. Looking through the small crack of the door, he sees the heavy wooden bookshelf, ‘you just had to have for all your trinkets and books’ shoved against the door, blocking entry. A rush of pride fills his chest that you listened to him and blocked the entry points of the house with furniture. Using all his might, Simon slams his shoulder into the door, trying to push it open along with the bookshelf. 

“Love! Are you here? Answer me?!” Simon's deep voice cut through the silence of the house as he squeezed through the small gap in the door he was able to make. Once inside, he reached back and slowly shut and locked the door, not wanting to have any surprise visits from anyone or anything else. Still not hearing any response from you, Simon begins to make his way through the house. Looking at the small, cozy couch where he first worked up the courage to tell you that he loved you, though a whisper at first, scared of your reply, fearing it would ruin your relationship, until you threw yourself in his arms saying it back much louder than he had, it was now propped up against the wall as a makeshift barrier covering the window that looked out over your garden. 

Simon walks into the kitchen with his gun raised just in case, already fearing the worst. The kitchen that was once filled with your joyous laughter as you covered him in flour from an impromptu baking idea you got after watching one of those silly baking shows you liked to watch when he was away on a mission. Now, nothing but his heavy breathing and footsteps can be heard. A muffled cry reached Simon’s ears, causing him to whip around in search of the source of the sound. Heading towards your shared bedroom, the door slightly ajar, letting him see somewhat into the room, memories flashed behind his eyes: the bed where he held you close at night, where you moaned out his name in pleasure, the bed where you comforted him after harsh nightmares that seemed too real. 

Using the tip of his gun, he pushed the door open quickly checking the corners of the room for danger, finding nothing until another muffled noise could be heard coming from the closet. Slowly, he walks toward the closet, he reaches out his hand, shaking from what he might find, and rips open the closet door, aiming the gun. Only to find you huddled in the corner of the closet shakily holding one of his hunting knives while tears stream down your face while you cover your mouth trying to hold in your sobs. 

Upon seeing you, Simon drops to his knees, whispering your name, ripping off the mask from his face. Through the tears in your eyes, you see Simon kneeling in front of you, and you leap forward, throwing yourself into his awaiting embrace, the knife now forgotten on the floor beside you. You loudly sob as you tuck your face into his chest, Simon's arms tighten around you to the point where it almost hurts, but it is a good kind of pain. His face is tucked in the corner of your neck; his breathing is shaky and labored. You both sit in the opening of the closet, holding each other as close as you can, until Simon pulls back from you and grabs your face, holding it carefully in his hands, his eyes searching your face, before leaning forward and placing his forehead against yours closing your eyes. 

He lets out another shaky breath, “I am glad that I was able to make it in time to see you one last time.” 

Your face fulls together in confusion, putting your hand overtop of his, “One last time? Simon, what are you talking about?”

Simon feels you pull your face out of his hands, but still holding his hands, he opens his eyes to see more tears now streaming down your face as your eyes focus on the bite mark on his left arm, the ripped shirt covered in blood as he tried to fight off the spreading infection as best he could with a tourniquet. Simon tried so hard to make it back to you unscathed, but he was ambushed and attacked by a horde of zombies just yesterday. Everything happened so fast that he didn’t even realize he had been bitten until later. When he realized, he thought about killing himself right then and there to protect you, but he couldn’t, not yet anyway, he wanted to see you again. He had to, he had to know that you were ok. Plus, he couldn’t stand the thought of you never knowing what had happened to him, making you spend the rest of your life worrying about him. So, he decided he would find you and see you again for the last time. 

“no, no, no, no. Please no! Simon, I just got you back you can’t leave me. Please don’t do this to me..I… can’t do this anymore.” you are sobbing uncontrollably now. 

Simon pulls you into his chest again and rubs a soothing hand down your back. “I am so sorry, love. I hate to do this to you, but I needed to see you. I had to know that you were safe.” His voice rumbled against your face. “You won’t be alone; I wouldn’t do that to you. I was able to contact Price earlier today and told him and he is on the way to you. He will be here within the coming week. The safe haven they create isn’t too far from here. They all promised me they would keep you safe.” Simon feels his control wavering, but he needs to stay strong for you; crying right now would not help you. 

—

You both stay like that, slumped on the floor, holding onto each other with everything you have because you know when you let go, it will be for the last time. “How much longer do you have left?” you whispered out, your voice raw and strained from all the crying. 

Simon let out a deep, painful breath, “A day at most, the infection moves at a fast rate. But I am not taking any chances; I’m doing it tonight. Price will be here soon, and you’ll be ok.” 

He feels you shiver in his hold at his words. Simon knows that you understand his meaning without having to say it. Simon knows he is already risking so much by coming back to the house to see you one last time, but just for once he wants to be selfish and make all of his suffering worth it, holding you in his arms makes him feel complete once again even though you both know that time is running out. He grabs your face and brings your lips to his uncovered ones, kissing you, trying to show you that everything will be ok, that you are going to be ok, trying to say everything that he is too scared to say through your last shared kiss. Salty tears can be tasted on your lips as you wrap your hands around his neck, running your fingers through his hair like you always do. Simon pulls back from you just a bit, though your lips still brush against each other with every word he whispers, “I love you. No matter where I end up, I will always search for you to keep you safe.” 

He gives you one last peck against the lips as he slips out of your hold, walking to the door and closing it behind him because he knows if he stops now and looks at you, he won’t be able to follow through with his plans, and he has to do this. He has to keep you safe, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. Your sobs echo loudly throughout the home that was once filled with so much happiness. Tears fill his eyes, but he keeps on walking, squeezing through the gap in the front door, pulling it shut, locking the door back, hoping that you will move the bookshelf back in front of the door. The key feels heavy in his grasp as he rubs his thumb over the small ghost painted on it. He bends down carefully, placing the key under the doormat for Price to find. 

Simon walks around to the edge of the house where the tool shed still stands with overgrown weeds covering it. He prys the door open till he finds what he is looking for, pulling out the heavy wrench from inside the toolbox. The metal feels cool in his grip. Simon rolls his shoulders back, raising the hand that holds the wrench above his head before bringing the wrench down onto his jaw with as much force as he can muster. Pain explodes across his face, but he won’t stop not until he knows for sure his jaw is broken. He refuses to take any chances of coming back as one of the disgusting zombies and potentially end up biting or hurting you.

 It took three blows before Simon could feel his jaw hanging limply from his face. The pain was one of the worst pains he had ever felt in his entire life, but to keep you safe, he had to do it. Plus, the physical pain he was experiencing was nothing compared to the pain inside his chest. Simon slides down the side of the shed, sits down in the grass, pulls his gun, places it on the side of his head, closing his eyes, picturing your smiling face in his mind, the life you both should of had together flashing throughout his mind as he pulls the trigger, the last thing he sees is you standing before him the day you meet smiling brightly at him. 

—-----------

Four days later, when Price arrives at you and Simon’s home, he walks up the steps leading to your door when something catches the corner of his eye off to the side of the house. Price sees the tool shed with a slumped figure sitting in the shadow, walking over to it with his weapon raised; bile raises in the back of his throat that he has to force back down at the sight of you covered in blood wrapped in Simon’s arms your face tucked under his broken jaw. In your hands, Price sees a note. He reaches down and pulls the note from your hands, opening it.

 ‘I am sorry, John. I couldn’t leave him all alone here.” He places the note back where he found it, looking down at his friends as tears fill his eyes. He refuses to let them fall because he knows wherever they are, they are together. 

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

This was my first attempt at writing angst. I hope you all like it. Please let me know if there are any warnings that I missed!

ʚིᵋ ⋆ [SVT RECORD] LUNA AND JEONGHAN PARIS VLOG ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

[SVT Record] Luna and Jeonghan’s Paris Fashion Week Vlog | Fashionistas Turned Tourists in the City of Lights 🇫🇷✨

synopsis: Experience the charm of Paris with Jeonghan and Luna as they wander through the iconic streets, visit the Louvre, capture moments at the Eiffel Tower, and share heartfelt memories during their Fashion Week adventure.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ svt youtube

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

The screen flickered to life with a shaky but deliberate motion, the edges of Jeonghan’s hand coming into view as he adjusted the camera. His long, slender fingers hovered momentarily before the lens before pulling back, revealing the spacious interior of a business-class cabin. The muted hum of the plane filled the background, a calm yet constant rhythm beneath the scene.

Jeonghan’s face appeared first, his sharp yet serene features framed by the faint glow of overhead lights. His posture was effortlessly relaxed, leaning back slightly in his plush seat with the casual air of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

His hand grazed the side of the camera, tilting it slightly to capture the seat next to him. There sat Luna, head bowed, her glossy hair falling over her face as she scrolled through her phone with a look of quiet concentration.

“Hello, everyone,” Jeonghan greeted in his low, velvety voice, the sound so smooth it felt like it could lull someone to sleep. He spoke with a lazy sort of charm, as though the words didn’t need any extra flourish to hold their weight.

At the sound of his voice, Luna looked up, her eyebrows lifting in curiosity before recognition softened her expression. She locked her phone and set it aside on the small table between them, leaning forward slightly to match his posture.

“Hi, Carats,” she said warmly, her tone gentle yet playful. She gave a small wave to the camera, her lips curving into a soft smile that lingered as she glanced at Jeonghan before refocusing on the lens.

Jeonghan turned his gaze to her, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an almost imperceptible smirk. “Where are we going today?” he asked, tilting his head just enough to make the question feel casual yet directed entirely at her.

“Paris,” Luna answered promptly, her smile widening. She leaned back slightly but kept her hands folded neatly in her lap. “For Fashion Week.”

Jeonghan’s eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, an almost imperceptible flicker of admiration in his gaze. Then he turned back to the camera, his tone steady and deliberate as he explained, “Yes, Jiyeonie and I have a busy schedule in Paris for the next few days.”

He shifted in his seat slightly, resting an elbow on the armrest as he continued, “I will be attending the Saint Laurent show while our Jiyeonie…” His voice trailed off, his eyes sliding back to her as if to cue her to finish the thought.

Luna picked up seamlessly, “I will be attending the Miu Miu show for Fashion Week.” She adjusted her posture, her hands gesturing subtly as she spoke. “Then Hannie and I have been invited for a private viewing for FRED’s new collection.”

Jeonghan nodded along as she spoke, his expression one of quiet attention. When she finished, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “You excited?”

Her head turned toward him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and sincerity. “I am,” she replied, nodding. “I’m also really excited to be in Paris again. I cannot wait to meet you guys.” She directed the last part to the camera, her tone softening with a touch of affection.

Jeonghan, still watching her, turned back to the camera with a faint chuckle. “Our flight is around fourteen hours, so we’ll be resting for most of it,” he explained, his voice calm and measured. “But we’ll see you all soon once we arrive in Paris.”

Luna, catching his cue, leaned slightly closer to the camera, waving once more. “See you soon!” she chimed in, her smile bright and warm. “Stay tuned!”

The screen briefly caught the slight upward curl of Jeonghan’s lips as he leaned forward to turn off the camera, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The video cut to black, the anticipation of their Parisian adventure lingering in the air.

The soft hum of tires on Parisian cobblestones were muted by the car’s interior. Through the window, the glittering cityscape of Paris passed by, the occasional flash of golden streetlights illuminating the backdrop of historic architecture.

Outside, the streets were alive with nighttime vibrancy, though the mood inside the car was calm and intimate.

The camera, now steady as it was being held by their staff, captured Jeonghan and Luna sitting shoulder to shoulder in the backseat.

Jeonghan’s posture was slightly reclined, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her, exuding a relaxed and unbothered air. Next to him, Luna rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion from the long flight. Her body language was soft and comfortable, her weariness almost palpable as her breathing slowed into a gentle rhythm.

“We’ve arrived in Paris,” Jeonghan announced, his voice low and composed, a perfect blend of casual and velvety. His gaze flicked from the window to the camera, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips as he made the statement.

“It’s probably two or three in the morning in Korea,” he continued, pulling his phone out of his pocket with an effortless motion. The sleek device glinted briefly in the light as he glanced at the time before turning it toward the camera for confirmation. “But it’s dinnertime here, so we’re off to eat dinner.”

Luna, still leaning into him, merely nodded, her head moving slightly against his shoulder. Her silence spoke of her fatigue, but there was a subtle fondness in the way she nestled closer, letting his voice fill the quiet.

Jeonghan’s attention shifted as something caught his eye outside the window. His hand gestured toward a grand, illuminated structure in the distance. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone curious yet calm as he pointed, his long fingers tracing the direction of the landmark.

Luna lifted her head, her eyes following the line of his gaze before settling on the building. “Palais Garnier,” she said softly, her voice carrying the remnants of her exhaustion but laced with a gentle warmth. She straightened slightly, brushing her hair back as she continued, “It’s an opera house. One of the most famous in the world, actually.”

Jeonghan listened intently, his gaze steady on her profile as she spoke. The way her voice softened when she explained something she found fascinating didn’t escape him. He turned back toward the window, his eyes lingering on the passing cityscape.

“Maybe it’s because it’s my first time in Paris,” he began thoughtfully, his tone dropping to something quieter, more introspective, “but I don’t want to look at my phone in the car. I just want to look outside, even from the airport to the hotel.”

“Paris is pretty, isn’t it?” Luna asked, her voice breaking the brief silence. She finally lifted her head fully from his shoulder, turning her gaze to him with a small smile.

Jeonghan hummed in agreement, the sound low and warm. He tilted his head slightly toward her, his expression unreadable but intent. “This isn’t your first time, right?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity.

“It’s my second time in Paris,” Luna replied with a nod. She adjusted her seat slightly, angling her body more toward him as she spoke. “I took my parents here the first time a couple of years ago. It was a gift to them for their wedding anniversary. It was only supposed to be the two of them, but they wanted me there with them.”

Jeonghan’s gaze remained fixed on her as she spoke, his expression softening. His eyes traced her features as if committing every detail to memory, the dim light casting a subtle glow over her face. “Pretty,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Luna blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Right?” she said with a small laugh, assuming he meant the city. She gestured toward the window, her tone picking up slightly as she continued, “Europe has its own vibe. I love it.”

“They also said the rain stopped right before we arrived,” Jeonghan added, his gaze flicking briefly out the window before returning to her. “So I was glad.”

“Our luck is insane,” Luna replied, her smile widening slightly as she turned to the camera. The expression was met with a grin from Jeonghan, his amusement evident in the way his lips curved lazily upward.

Jeonghan leaned in slightly, his grin turning mischievous. “Or,” he began, his tone teasing but smooth, “it stopped because you’ve arrived.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her expression twisting into playful disbelief as she let out an exaggerated sigh. “Aigo-ya,” she said, shaking her head as if to shake off his cheesiness.

Jeonghan laughed softly at her reaction, the sound rich and unhurried. He turned his attention back to the camera, his smirk still firmly in place. “Anyway,” he drawled, his tone carrying a hint of amusement, “Jiyeonie and I are off to eat dinner.”

The declaration brought a giggle from Luna, her laughter soft yet unrestrained as she glanced at him with a look of both affection and exasperation.

The screen faded back in, transitioning smoothly to the warm, inviting interior of a quaint Parisian restaurant. Soft amber lighting cast a gentle glow over the wooden tables and plush seating, creating an atmosphere of understated elegance.

In the frame, Jeonghan and Luna sat side by side in a corner booth, their shoulders brushing subtly as they leaned into each other’s space. The camera was positioned at a slight angle in front of them, capturing their interaction with the intimacy of a candid snapshot. Behind the camera, their staff sat quietly, allowing the two to take center stage in the frame.

Jeonghan’s posture was effortlessly relaxed, his elbow resting casually on the table as he perused the menu in front of him. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his long fingers lightly tapping the edge of the menu as if deliberating his choice.

Luna, on the other hand, held her menu with both hands, her posture a touch more upright. Her eyes scanned the options, but every now and then, her gaze flicked sideways to Jeonghan, as though silently asking his opinion without needing to voice it.

Their unspoken communication was almost magnetic, the subtle glances and fleeting smiles creating an atmosphere charged with an understated chemistry. When Jeonghan finally made a decision, he leaned slightly toward her, his hand gesturing to a particular item on her menu as he shared his thoughts. Luna’s lips quirked into a small smile, and she nodded, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before she returned her attention to the menu.

Once their orders were placed, they settled into an easy rhythm of conversation with each other and their staff. Jeonghan turned his body slightly toward Luna as they spoke, his gestures fluid and expressive, punctuated by the occasional lazy smile that seemed to come naturally to him. Luna listened attentively, her eyes warm and focused on him, occasionally chiming in with soft laughter or a thoughtful comment.

The camera captured the quiet intimacy of the scene— the way Jeonghan’s fingers brushed briefly against the edge of Luna’s sleeve as he reached for his glass of water, the way Luna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she listened to him speak.

When their food arrived, the mood shifted into one of shared enjoyment. Jeonghan picked up his utensils with an effortless grace, his movements unhurried as he began to eat. Luna followed suit, her gestures delicate and precise. Every now and then, they exchanged subtle looks— Jeonghan raising an eyebrow in amusement as Luna tried something new, or Luna smiling softly when Jeonghan offered her a bite of his dish.

The staff behind the camera remained a quiet presence, occasionally capturing candid moments of the couple sharing an inside joke or exchanging a look that lingered just a second too long. The chemistry between them was palpable, not through grand gestures or dramatic displays but in the quiet, understated moments of connection— the way Jeonghan’s gaze softened when he looked at her, or the way Luna leaned ever so slightly closer to him as they spoke.

The scene faded once more, signaling the transition to the next part of their journey in Paris, but the warmth of their interaction lingered, a testament to the quiet yet undeniable bond between them.

Seamlessly, the crisp morning light of Paris filtering through the streets was seen. Jeonghan and Luna walked side by side, their pace leisurely, the camera capturing their relaxed expressions and occasional glances at one another.

The city was still waking up, its charm accentuated by the quiet ambiance and the faint sounds of footsteps echoing against cobblestones.

Luna, dressed warmly in a chic coat and scarf, glanced at the camera held by one of their staff. Her soft smile lit up her face as she greeted the viewers. “Good morning,” she said, her British accent gentle, her voice still slightly hushed as though not wanting to disturb the peace of the moment.

Jeonghan turned his head at the sound of her voice, his lips curving into a lazy smile as he chimed in. “It’s 8:45 a.m. right now,” he began, his voice low and calm. He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone to check the time. “I fell asleep around 1 a.m. last night and woke up at 4 a.m. I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I waited for the sun to rise. But because it’s winter, the sun wouldn’t rise. That’s why I’m out here at 8:45 a.m…” He paused, glancing at Luna with a knowing smirk. “Jiyeonie slept like a baby. I had to drag her here with me.”

Luna chuckled softly, nodding to the camera in agreement. “I was so tired from the flight that my body didn’t have time to be jet-lagged. After dinner, I was knocked out,” she admitted, her tone light.

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze momentarily dropping to their feet as they walked. “We’re not really sure where we’ll go, but I wanted to take a walk with our Jiyeonie, so we’re out here,” he said, his words casual but filled with a subtle affection that didn’t go unnoticed.

As they continued walking, Jeonghan reached out, gently taking Luna’s hand in his. He intertwined their fingers effortlessly, swinging their joined hands back and forth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Luna glanced at him, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, but she said nothing, instead letting a soft smile curve her lips as she adjusted her stride to match his.

Turning her attention back to the camera, Luna said, “We’ll just take a stroll here in beautiful Paris, enjoying the morning with no clear destination or plan in mind… but that’s the fun part, isn’t it?”

Jeonghan glanced at her, his lips tugging into a crooked smile as he nodded. “You’re right, as always,” he replied, his tone teasing yet sincere.

Luna’s gaze wandered to the scenery around them, her eyes lighting up as she admired the beauty of the city. “Paris is beautiful despite the cold,” she mused softly, her voice carrying a sense of wonder.

Jeonghan chuckled, pulling his coat tighter around himself. “We didn’t know Paris would be this cold. That’s why I only brought these two jackets, so I’m wearing both of them right now,” he said, his words drawing a light laugh from Luna.

“I didn’t expect it to be this cold either,” Luna admitted before glancing up at him with a playful smile. “It’s okay. We’ll shop later, Hannie.”

Jeonghan smirked down at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re just finding excuses to shop,” he teased, his tone dry but affectionate.

Luna turned to him, her eyes narrowing in mock annoyance as she gave him a playful glare. With an exaggerated motion, she turned her head to the side, lifting her chin in mock defiance. “‘The cold never bothered me anyway~’” she sang lightly, the lyrics flowing from her lips with a playful lilt.

Jeonghan burst into laughter at her dramatic response, his shoulders shaking as he watched her. “Anyway,” he said after a beat, turning his attention back to the camera. “We’re going toward a square—Place Vendôme.”

“Place Vendôme,” Luna repeated, nodding as she walked. Her voice was thoughtful as she added, “Guys, it’s a mission. Say ‘Place Vendôme’ five times quickly…”

Jeonghan’s lips curved into a mischievous grin as he accepted the challenge. “‘Place Vendôme, Place Vendôme, Place Vendôme…’” His words stumbled slightly on the fourth repetition, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “It’s so hard.”

Luna raised an eyebrow at him, a playful glint in her eye as she attempted the same. “‘Place Vendôme, Place Vendôme, Place Vendôme, Place Vendôme, Place Vendôme,’” she said flawlessly, her tone filled with triumph as she turned to Jeonghan and stuck her tongue out at him.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose at her, his smirk widening as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “You just had to be perfect at everything, huh?” he said, his voice laced with both amusement and fondness.

Luna nodded, her expression playful as she tilted her head to the side like a child basking in praise. Jeonghan couldn’t help but chuckle at her antics, the sound light and warm as it filled the crisp morning air.

Jeonghan slowed his steps, gesturing slightly with his free hand as he spoke to the camera. “We’re walking right now, and we can see the Eiffel Tower,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with a subtle excitement. His other hand, still loosely clasped with Luna’s, lifted as he pointed toward the iconic structure in the distance. Even through the faint morning fog, the outline of the tower was visible, its iron latticework standing tall against the muted skyline.

“It’s still so cool even from afar,” Luna gasped, her eyes lighting up as she followed his gaze. Without a second thought, she slipped her hand out of Jeonghan’s and looped her arm through the crook of his elbow, resting against him as if it were second nature. Jeonghan let her, glancing down at the subtle shift before smiling.

“It’s my first time seeing it,” he said, tilting his head toward her slightly as though sharing a secret. His voice dropped a note, laced with genuine awe. “It’s hidden in the fog, so it looks super cool.” He turned back to the camera, motioning with his hand again. “Look over here. Do you see it?” He pointed to the faint silhouette in the distance. “The Eiffel Tower is so pretty hidden in the fog.”

“It’s even prettier at night because it lights up,” Luna said softly, her voice carrying an almost dreamy quality. Her gaze lingered on the faint outline of the tower before shifting to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan hummed in agreement, his lips quirking into a thoughtful smile as they continued walking. After a moment, he spoke again, glancing at the camera. “Right now, we’re at Concorde?” he said, the sentence ending as though it were a question to himself. He chuckled lightly before adding, “Reminds me of the Concorde Airliner.”

Luna turned her head slightly toward him, her brows lifting in curiosity as she listened to his train of thought.

“A long time ago, if you look at Blue Marble, they had the Concorde Airliner,” Jeonghan explained, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face. “You could take a variety of planes.” He gestured vaguely, as though tracing the memory in the air. “What square was this again?” he asked, his voice casual as he glanced at Luna.

“‘The Place de la Concorde’,” Luna answered with an amused smile tugging at her lips. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, a subtle amusement at the way Jeonghan was recounting random bits of trivia.

“That’s right. It’s the same Concorde,” Jeonghan said, nodding firmly as if he’d pieced together some great mystery.

Luna smirked, tilting her head up to look at him. “Continue, my tour guide. What else is there?” she teased, her voice light but dripping with playful sarcasm.

Jeonghan’s eyes twinkled at her words, and he played along gladly, straightening his posture slightly as though stepping into the role. He gestured toward the next landmark, pointing with a flourish. “Yes, ma’am. Do you see that tower over there?”

“Yes, yes,” Luna said, nodding earnestly as she mirrored his enthusiasm.

“It’s called an Obelisk,” Jeonghan said with a slight smirk, his tone taking on a mock-professorial air. “They say they brought that from Egypt. How did they manage to do that?”

Luna tilted her head, her brows furrowing slightly as though considering his question. “I’m also curious how they managed to do that,” she said after a beat, her tone laced with mock seriousness. But her composure broke as she dissolved into laughter, the sound bright and melodic as she leaned slightly against him. “You’re my tour guide, no? You’re supposed to know.”

Jeonghan looked down at her, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. His gaze lingered for a moment, his dark eyes glinting with teasing amusement. “Ah, but you see,” he began, his voice dropping to a smooth, playful drawl, “I’m a modern tour guide. I specialize in vibes, not facts.”

“Vibes.” Luna’s laughter bubbled up again, her nose scrunching slightly as she giggled. “Aigo-ya,” she muttered, shaking her head as though exasperated but unable to hide her grin.

Jeonghan chuckled, his smile softening as he looked at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re lucky the vibes are good then,” she quipped, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

As they continued their stroll, Luna lightly tapped Jeonghan’s arm where hers was linked, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “Continue, my tour guide. I want more good vibes,” she said, her voice playful and inviting.

Jeonghan tilted his head, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Good vibes? You’ve come to the right place,” he replied coolly, indulging her with a slight bow of his head as though he were a true guide. “As we are walking, we can now see a bridge. We’re going to the Seine, and here is the Pont Alexandre III. That’s what it is,” he explained, gesturing casually around them. “All the names here sound so cool.”

“Really cool,” Luna echoed, her eyes sweeping the scene before them. Then her gaze caught something, and she let out a small gasp of excitement. She slipped her arm out of Jeonghan’s in one quick motion and bolted ahead, her movements light and full of energy as she dug into her bag.

Jeonghan trailed behind her with a slow, steady pace, his arms already stretching forward in expectation.

By the time Luna reached the railing overlooking the Seine, she had already pulled out her digital camera. Without needing to ask, she turned and handed it to Jeonghan, who accepted it with a lazy grin that was both amused and knowing. “Take a photo of me, Hannie,” she said, her tone half-command, half-request.

“Alright. Stand there,” Jeonghan said, motioning to a spot near the railing. His voice was calm and collected, but there was an undercurrent of indulgence, as if he found her excitement contagious.

Luna stood in place, her pose casual as she leaned lightly against the railing.

Jeonghan immediately began moving around her, the camera clicking steadily. He crouched down, stood back up, shifted to the left, then to the right, his every movement deliberate. Despite the brisk air and growing wind, he took his time, adjusting his angles with a focus that bordered on meticulous. “Turn your head a little to the left,” he directed, his tone soft but firm. Luna complied, her movements fluid, her expression natural.

“Perfect,” he said under his breath, clicking again before straightening up. “You’re making my job way too easy.”

Luna laughed lightly, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Am I?”

“You are,” Jeonghan confirmed, his lips curving into a small smile. “Now, look out at the river— don’t look at me. Just look out, Nana-ya.”

Luna turned her attention back to the Seine, resting her elbows on the railing as she gazed out. The wind picked up, tousling her hair and sending strands flying across her face. Jeonghan paused mid-click, lowering the camera slightly as he stepped closer. “Come here,” he said simply, his tone casual but laced with a quiet authority that left no room for argument.

Luna blinked at him but didn’t hesitate, stepping toward him with a curious tilt of her head. Jeonghan reached out, his fingers brushing gently against her face as he tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ear. His touch was slow and deliberate, his gaze focused as he arranged her hair neatly, smoothing it down with a practiced ease.

“He’s not only my tour guide, he’s also my photographer and my stylist,” Luna quipped, turning toward the camera their staff was holding. Her tone was light and teasing, but her smile was warm, her eyes soft as they flicked back to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he stepped back. “Alright, let’s finish this.” He lifted the camera again, resuming his careful efforts to capture her in the perfect light.

Once they were done, there was a wordless exchange of roles. Jeonghan handed the camera back to Luna, and without needing to be asked, he moved into place by the railing, standing with an easy confidence as he waited for her to direct him.

“Your turn, Hannie,” Luna said, her voice lilting with amusement as she brought the camera to her eye.

Jeonghan leaned one arm casually against the railing, his posture relaxed yet effortlessly striking. “How’s this?” he asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Not bad,” Luna replied, her tone teasing as she adjusted the focus. “But tilt your head a bit.”

Jeonghan did as she asked, his movements deliberate but unhurried. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Luna said, clicking the shutter. She mirrored his earlier efforts, moving side to side, crouching down, and even stepping back to get a wider shot. The wind blew again, ruffling Jeonghan’s hair, but he didn’t flinch, letting her take control.

“You’re a natural,” Luna commented as she continued snapping photos. “But I expected nothing less.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You’re doing a pretty good job yourself, director Jiyeonie.”

She grinned, lowering the camera for a moment to meet his gaze. “Well, someone has to keep you in check.”

Jeonghan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Good luck with that,” he murmured, leaning back against the railing as she raised the camera again.

As Jeonghan’s impromptu photoshoot came to an end, he casually handed the camera back to Luna. He moved toward her, his steps measured, but before they could leave, Luna grabbed his arm and turned to the staff trailing behind them with cameras still rolling.

“Wait,” she said, her voice carrying a bright note of enthusiasm. “Can you please take a photo of us?” Without waiting for an answer, she handed her camera to one of the staff members and grabbed Jeonghan’s wrist, tugging him back toward the spot near the railing.

Jeonghan let himself be dragged, his steps unhurried, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “You’re really taking this tourist role seriously,” he teased as they reached their spot.

“Just stand here,” Luna instructed, positioning herself in front of him with ease.

Jeonghan leaned one arm on the railing behind her, his posture relaxed but instinctively protective, the crook of his elbow almost wrapping around her. Luna stood close, her bright smile lighting up her face as she posed effortlessly, the Seine and the bridge creating the perfect backdrop.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, gave a lazy half-smile to the camera, the kind that was barely there but still somehow charming. As the staff member counted down, he glanced down at Luna, his smirk softening into something more tender. She didn’t notice at first, still beaming at the lens, but his gaze lingered on her for the rest of the shot, unbothered by the camera capturing the moment.

Once the staff handed the camera back, Luna excitedly flipped through the photos, Jeonghan leaning in beside her to look. His shoulder brushed hers, and they huddled closer as the images appeared on the small screen. “Not bad,” Jeonghan murmured, his tone thoughtful. “We look good together.”

Luna grinned, not looking up as she continued scrolling. “We do.”

Jeonghan turned to one of the rolling cameras and said, as if sharing an inside thought, “I keep thinking of ‘Spirited Away’.”

“Hm?” Luna hummed distractedly, still absorbed in the photos.

Jeonghan’s lips curved into a sly smirk as he added teasingly, “They said this is the Seine. I wonder how ‘sen’sible it is.”

At that, Luna froze mid-scroll and slowly looked up at him. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and exasperation, her deadpan stare speaking volumes. “Really?” she asked, her voice flat, before immediately looking back down at the camera, pretending she hadn’t heard it.

Jeonghan couldn’t hold back his laughter, low and amused. He glanced at the filming staff, then back at the camera, winking playfully. “She loves my jokes,” he said with mock confidence, his voice dripping with mischief. He leaned slightly closer to Luna, his tone dropping into something quieter but still teasing. “You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.”

Luna snorted softly but didn’t look up, still scrolling through the pictures with exaggerated focus. “No,” she replied without missing a beat. “I’m mad because you keep finding new ways to embarrass me in public.”

Jeonghan’s grin widened as he tilted his head to catch her gaze. “Embarrass you? You’re the one hanging onto me as we walk here and putting me to work. How are you embarrassed?”

Luna finally glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “This is teamwork, Hannie. And you signed up for this when you joined me.”

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning a little closer so only she could hear. “Teamwork, huh? Then why do I feel like I’m doing all the heavy lifting?”

Luna gave him a sideways glance, her lips twitching as though she were fighting back a smile. “Maybe because you like being in the spotlight,” she countered coolly, her voice tinged with humor.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his expression effortlessly smug. “Can you blame me? It’s hard not to shine when you’re standing next to me.”

Luna groaned, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the photos. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was no hiding the fondness in her tone.

“And you’re still here,” Jeonghan quipped smoothly, his grin never faltering as he watched her.

“I am,” Luna nodded as they continued walking along the Seine.

Jeonghan spotted the Eiffel Tower once more, a little closer than before, standing tall and proud despite the fog softening its outline. He gestured toward it with his free hand, his tone casual but still holding that subtle wonder that the structure always seemed to invoke.

“Look at that, it’s the Eiffel Tower,” he said, his voice calm yet slightly playful.

Luna followed his gaze and immediately lit up. “We need to get a picture with it.”

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “Hmm. We should.” His lips twitched upward, the ghost of a smile. Then, as if unable to resist, he added with a slight chuckle, “This is the sensible Seine river.”

Luna turned toward the camera following them and raised her eyebrows with mock exasperation. “He had to repeat it,” she said, deadpan, but the glint of amusement in her eyes was unmistakable.

Jeonghan laughed softly, clearly pleased with himself, before turning back to her. “We need to take a picture here too,” he announced, suddenly decisive.

Before Luna could say anything, Jeonghan grabbed her digital camera right out of her hand and handed it to one of the staff members filming them. He then linked his hand with hers and gently pulled her toward the side of the river, finding the perfect spot with a better view of the Eiffel Tower.

“Stand here,” he said, his tone casual yet firm, guiding her into position like it was second nature.

They posed naturally, their hands still intertwined as they stood side by side, the river and the iconic tower behind them. Jeonghan leaned in slightly, his free arm lifting to rest on the railing behind her, his stance protective without being overt. Their linked hands remained between them, a subtle but intimate detail as they both smiled toward the camera.

After a few clicks, Jeonghan adjusted their position, wrapping his arm fully around her shoulders while still keeping their hands intertwined. Luna tilted her head slightly to look up at him, her smile softening in that moment, but Jeonghan’s gaze stayed fixed on the camera, his expression effortlessly relaxed yet somehow magnetic.

Once the photo was taken, the staff handed the camera back to Luna, and the two huddled together again to look at the photos. Jeonghan leaned in close, his cheek almost brushing hers as they scrolled through the images.

“Not bad,” Jeonghan murmured, his tone pleased.

Luna giggled. “Not bad at all.”

With that, they turned back toward the path and started making their way back to their hotel. The wind picked up slightly, and Luna instinctively clasped Jeonghan’s hand with both of hers, trying to warm it up.

Jeonghan chuckled at her small gesture before playfully wrapping an arm around her waist from behind, pulling her closer. In one smooth motion, he slipped both of their hands into her coat pockets, trapping her in his embrace as they walked in sync.

The movement made Luna laugh, the sound light and melodic. “I love the cold,” she said, smiling up at him.

“I’ll never understand why,” Jeonghan replied, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s because ‘the cold never bothered me anyway~,’” Luna sang teasingly, turning her head to look up at him mid-verse.

Jeonghan was already smirking down at her, clearly amused. “Elsa?” he called her, his tone playfully mocking.

“‘Do you wanna build a snowman?’” Luna continued with a grin, making Jeonghan laugh softly.

Still holding her close, Jeonghan turned back to address the camera that was filming them. “Fortunately, Hoshi will be here on the 18th to see the fashion show, so luckily I’ve requested a padded jacket from our manager. If I endure it a bit more…” He trailed off, visibly cold but unwilling to break the moment.

“You should say, ‘Fortunately, Jiyeonie and I are going shopping soon…’” Luna interrupted, her tone sweet but clearly hinting at her own agenda.

Jeonghan chuckled, indulging her. “We’ll also shop. I promise.”

“I know we will,” Luna said smugly, confidence shining through her teasing tone.

Jeonghan laughed, his breath visible in the cold air. “My mouth is frozen… It’s hard to talk,” he muttered, rubbing his lips together.

Hearing that, Luna turned her head slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief as she discreetly puckered her lips, as if implying something without saying it outright.

Jeonghan caught the gesture immediately, a low chuckle escaping him as he tightened his grip around her waist and gently lifted her off the ground, turning her away from the camera in one fluid motion. “Let’s go,” he said firmly, his voice warm with amusement.

“Let’s go!” Luna giggled, her laughter echoing softly as they continued their playful walk back toward the hotel.

In their hotel room, the camera focused on Jeonghan sitting elegantly in front of a sleek vanity. The soft glow of warm lighting illuminated his features as his stylist meticulously worked on his hair, combing through the strands with precision.

Jeonghan’s makeup artist stood to the side, dabbing at his cheekbones and blending foundation seamlessly into his skin. His reflection in the mirror was sharp yet calm, the epitome of effortless charm as he sat still, letting the professionals do their work.

In the background, Luna could be seen sprawled comfortably on her belly across Jeonghan’s bed, her legs lazily bent at the knees as she swung them slightly in the air. She was completely engrossed in her phone, her thumbs tapping away occasionally as she scrolled, her hair tumbling loosely around her face. She was in her own world, her posture relaxed and unbothered, a stark contrast to the quiet busyness surrounding Jeonghan.

Jeonghan glanced at the camera in front of him, his expression shifting into a soft smile as he addressed it. “So, right now, I’m getting ready for the Yves Saint Laurent show tonight,” he began, his voice smooth and calm, the kind that naturally pulled people in. He gestured briefly to his stylist with his hand, careful not to disrupt the makeup brush hovering near his jawline. “They’re fixing my hair and makeup to make sure I look decent enough for the event,” he joked lightly, his tone infused with a teasing self-awareness.

He tilted his head slightly as the stylist adjusted his hair, his gaze darting to the mirror and back to the camera. “It’s a busy night for me— after the show, I’ll probably have a few other things to wrap up. But our Jiyeonie…” He trailed off, his smile widening as he nodded toward the background.

The camera panned slightly to capture Luna, still lying on the bed, entirely absorbed in her phone. Jeonghan’s smile turned affectionate as he called out, “Nana-ya~” in a soft, sing-song voice.

Luna looked up at the sound of his voice, blinking in slight confusion before realizing the camera was on her. A small smile tugged at her lips as she raised her hand to wave lazily at it. “Hi,” she said, her voice light and casual, before returning to her phone with the same nonchalant ease.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before turning back to the camera. “She’s a bit tired from this morning,” he explained. “We went for a walk along the Seine pretty early, and then we went shopping for a while after.”

He paused, his eyes flicking to Luna briefly before continuing. “But… we didn’t end up getting anything because none of the stores had what she wanted.” He lowered his voice slightly, adding conspiratorially to the camera, “So now she’s a little bummed about it.”

At this, Luna raised her head slightly, as though she’d heard him, but she didn’t respond, only going back to her phone with a faint pout on her lips. Jeonghan watched her for a moment before speaking again, his tone gentle but teasing.

“It’s okay,” he said, directing his words toward her now. “I promise we’ll shop again soon. We’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.”

Luna glanced up at him from her phone, her lips quirking into a small smile. “You always say that,” she replied, her voice playful but with a hint of accusation.

“And I always deliver,” Jeonghan countered smoothly, raising an eyebrow at her through the mirror.

Luna’s smile grew, and she shook her head slightly, her attention already drifting back to her phone. Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned back to the camera, his lips curling into a soft, knowing smile as he said, “See? She knows.”

The stylist, now satisfied with his hair, stepped back to let Jeonghan adjust slightly in his seat. He leaned back, resting his elbow on the vanity and his chin on his hand as he looked straight at the camera, his expression a mix of charm and ease. “Alright,” he said, his tone signaling the conversation was about to shift. “That’s the update for now. Stay tuned.”

The car slowed to a stop under the soft glow of the streetlights outside the venue, where the energy was electric. The night sky was a deep navy, peppered with faint stars, but it was the sea of flashing lights and the ecstatic energy of the crowd that illuminated the scene. Fans clustered behind sturdy barricades, their voices merging into a harmonious chorus of cheers and screams as soon as Jeonghan stepped out of the sleek black car.

He emerged with effortless grace, dressed in a tailored black ensemble that spoke volumes of elegance and sophistication. The structured lines of his blazer contrasted with the soft silk of his shirt beneath, which caught the light with every movement. His trousers were impeccably fitted, and his polished black shoes reflected the shimmering glow of the venue’s lights. His shoulder-length black hair fell naturally, framing his sharp features, with just enough tousle to give off an air of casual sophistication.

The instant Jeonghan appeared, the crowd erupted. Fans waved lightsticks, posters, and their phones in the air, calling his name with uncontainable excitement. The fervor was palpable, their admiration echoing across the cold evening.

Jeonghan turned toward them immediately, his face lighting up with an easy smile that seemed to cast warmth over the freezing night. His long fingers lifted in a poised wave, acknowledging the crowd’s enthusiasm as they pushed closer to the barricades, desperate to catch every glimpse of him.

Camera flashes exploded like a storm of stars, painting the night in bursts of silver and white. Photographers lined the walkway, jostling for the perfect shot, their lenses focused entirely on him. Jeonghan moved fluidly, effortlessly aware of the eyes on him without seeming burdened by it. He paused for the cameras, adjusting his stance subtly to give them the angles they craved.

He tilted his head slightly, his black hair catching the light, and let his hands fall naturally to his sides before shifting one into his pocket with practiced ease. The slight smirk on his lips— barely there, but enough to send fans into a frenzy— made the moment feel magnetic. His gaze darted over the crowd briefly, a silent acknowledgement that made every individual feel seen.

Jeonghan took his time, pivoting slightly as he moved along the red carpet, giving different angles to the flashing cameras. His every step was measured, purposeful, the very picture of composure amidst the chaos. The murmurs of admiration from the press were barely audible over the cacophony of fans calling out his name, but they were there, buzzing in tandem with the atmosphere.

As he approached the main entrance, Jeonghan paused again, this time turning toward the barricades to give the fans one last wave. His expression softened slightly, the corners of his lips curving upward in genuine appreciation for the crowd’s presence. His fingers fluttered in a delicate yet deliberate gesture before he resumed his walk, the tails of his blazer swaying lightly behind him with each step.

The venue itself loomed in the background, its grandeur amplified by dramatic lighting that highlighted the ornate architecture. The sleek, modern red carpet pathway leading into the event was framed by towering displays of the Yves Saint Laurent logo, an embodiment of timeless luxury.

Jeonghan reached the entrance but glanced back one final time, a fleeting look over his shoulder that sent another ripple of excitement through the crowd. Even with his back turned, his presence was commanding, the sharp lines of his outfit and the deliberate way he carried himself exuding quiet power and elegance.

And just like that, with one final wave and a subtle nod to the cameras, Jeonghan disappeared into the venue, leaving the crowd buzzing with energy and the press scrambling to capture the lingering magic he left behind.

Luna was seated in front of the vanity, the soft morning light filtering through the windows, painting the room in a warm, cozy glow.

She leaned forward, adjusting the camera with deft hands, dressed in an oversized beige hoodie that was unmistakably Jeonghan’s— its long sleeves engulfed her arms. Her hair was still a little disheveled, evidence of having only recently woken up, and her face was bare, fresh from sleep.

“Here we go…” she muttered quietly, her voice groggy yet steady as she pressed the record button. She leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs comfortably. Her team was already bustling around her, a stylist gently brushing through her hair while another began unpacking the makeup she would wear for the event.

“Today’s the day of the Miu Miu fashion show,” Luna said to the camera, her voice a little livelier now. “I’m getting ready… getting my hair and makeup done right now.” She wiggled slightly in her seat, folding her arms over her lap as she smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “The mood of the day is not like the original lovely Miu Miu mood. It’s going to be chic. I’m going to be Chic Luna today,” she joked, chuckling softly.

As she finished speaking, Jeonghan strolled into the frame, his steps unhurried, his presence effortlessly laid-back. He was dressed casually in black sweats, a stark contrast to the sharp ensemble he had worn the night before. In his hands was a bowl of sliced fruit, and he was chewing leisurely, clearly at ease.

“You’re always chic,” Jeonghan said smugly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the edge of the vanity.

Luna glanced up from the mirror, lifting her brow at him in a mix of skepticism and amusement. “Always?” she echoed, her tone light but laced with mock disbelief. Her lips twitched as if fighting a smile. “Even in this?” She gestured lazily to the hoodie swallowing her frame.

Jeonghan shrugged, unbothered. “Especially in that,” he replied, his voice warm, yet casual, like he was stating an obvious fact. His smirk remained intact, the ease of his confidence radiating as he leaned closer.

Luna looked up at him, her expression skeptical but amused, and gave him a pointed look. Jeonghan held her gaze, his own steady, challenging her silently as if daring her to disagree. “Alright,” she finally said, her voice laced with playful resignation, earning a satisfied chuckle from him.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his posture relaxed, entirely at home in the moment. Luna, despite herself, allowed her smile to grow as her attention drifted back to the mirror.

Her gaze, however, didn’t stay there long. It flickered down, catching sight of the strawberries nestled in the bowl Jeonghan was holding. The rich sheen of chocolate coating one caught the light, and for a moment, her eyes lingered.

The pause was brief, but Jeonghan noticed it instantly. His perceptive nature caught every nuance of her expression— the subtle shift of her gaze, the way her lips pressed together in subtle temptation.

Without a word, Jeonghan plucked one of the strawberries from the bowl, the motion unhurried, deliberate. He held it up, his fingers poised with a practiced elegance, his other hand positioned just beneath the strawberry to catch any potential drip of chocolate. His movements were seamless, fluid, as if feeding her was the most natural thing in the world.

Luna blinked, her eyes darting to the strawberry, then back up to him. She didn’t need to say anything. The unspoken understanding passed between them effortlessly, a testament to the familiarity they shared. Leaning forward slightly, she took a bite, the sweetness of the fruit and the richness of the chocolate blending perfectly. A soft hum of satisfaction escaped her lips as she leaned back into her chair.

Jeonghan’s eyes never left her, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, with the same ease, he lifted his thumb and gently brushed it across the corner of her lips, where a tiny smudge of chocolate had lingered. The touch was brief, almost casual, but deliberate. He brought his thumb to his own lips, licking away the chocolate with a calm, self-assured air that made Luna’s cheeks flush faintly.

“Better,” he said simply, his tone as smooth as the silk draped over their bed nearby.

Luna rolled her eyes, though the gesture was half-hearted at best. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, though there was no bite to her words.

“And you love it,” Jeonghan countered, his smirk making a triumphant return.

“Debatable,” she shot back, though her lips curved into a faint smile that betrayed her playful tone.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, leaning a little closer, his bowl of fruit still in hand. “Debatable? After I fed you my strawberry?” he echoed, his voice dropping ever so slightly, his tone now teasing but threaded with the kind of easy intimacy they always shared.

Luna glanced at him through her lashes, her expression coy. “Extremely debatable,” she replied, her voice light, but her gaze steady as it met his.

For a moment, the air between them stilled, charged with the quiet tension of two people completely attuned to each other. Jeonghan’s smirk softened into something warmer, but no less confident. Without breaking eye contact, he picked another strawberry from the bowl, holding it out to her.

Luna tilted her head, considering him briefly before leaning forward and taking it again. This time, she made a deliberate point of savoring the bite, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned back with a satisfied hum. “Thanks,” she said sweetly, her tone dripping with mock innocence.

Jeonghan shook his head slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Always pushing it, aren’t you?” he remarked, his voice fond.

“Always,” Luna quipped back effortlessly, her grin widening as she glanced at the camera, as if to say, See what I deal with?

Jeonghan lingered beside her as the team continued their work, his presence a comfortable constant.

Luna turned her attention back to the camera, gesturing subtly to indicate she was addressing her audience again. “So, what’s up for today?” she began, her voice light and conversational. “The Miu Miu fashion show is this afternoon. And Hannie—” she turned slightly to glance at him, “—needs to get ready soon because right after the show, we have another schedule together. A private viewing for FRED.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her, already sensing where this was going. Luna smirked subtly before adding in a casual tone, “And then, before dinner… we’re going shopping.” She finished her sentence slowly, almost sneakily, and then tilted her head to look up at Jeonghan, gauging his reaction.

He was already looking down at her with a lazy, amused expression, one eyebrow raised as if to say, Really?

Luna blinked up at him with her large, doe-like eyes, feigning innocence as she bit back a smile. Jeonghan saw right through it, of course, but that didn’t stop him from indulging her. “Alright,” he said slowly, dragging out the word with a teasing edge, “but only if you do something for me first.”

Luna pouted, hesitating as she searched his face for clues. “What kind of something?” she asked cautiously, her lips forming a slight pout.

Jeonghan smirked, his amusement evident, but he didn’t answer right away, letting the suspense build. Finally, he leaned in slightly, his tone playful as he murmured, “Surprise me.”

Luna sighed dramatically, clearly reluctant, but her desire to win him over outweighed her hesitation. She leaned forward slightly, her cheeks puffing out in a small display of determination before she pulled out her phone and showed him the Lego set he desperately been wanting and bought it online.

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened, his gaze softening as he found her endearing.

“Alright, alright. Thank you, Nana-ya,” he said at last, his tone lazy but approving, and he gave a slow nod of assent.

“Yay!” Luna cheered softly, turning back to the camera with a triumphant smile. Her expression was one of pure satisfaction, but she wasn’t done yet. Tilting her head up toward Jeonghan once more, she opened her mouth expectantly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, shaking his head slightly before indulging her once more, feeding her another strawberry. Luna took it with a pleased hum before glancing back at the camera. She winked, her smile widening as she seemed fully aware of the power she held over him.

Jeonghan shook his head again, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, affectionate smile as he muttered under his breath, “Always gets her way.”

The afternoon air in Paris was crisp, the winter sun muted behind a pale gray sky, casting a soft glow over the bustling scene outside the venue of the Miu Miu fashion show. Crowds had gathered behind barricades, their energy palpable as they waved banners and phones in the air, the hum of excited chatter punctuated by occasional squeals of recognition as celebrity guests arrived one by one.

When Luna’s car pulled up to the event, a ripple of excitement swept through the crowd. Her arrival was heralded by an enthusiastic wave of cheers, fans holding up signs with her name, their phones trained on the sleek black vehicle. The door opened slowly, and Luna emerged with an effortless elegance that seemed almost otherworldly.

She stepped out gracefully, her heeled boots clicking softly against the pavement as she straightened to her full height.

She was dressed in a chic ensemble— a structured black coat cinched perfectly at the waist, accentuating her silhouette, paired with a crystal-embellished Miu Miu skirt that shimmered subtly in the daylight. Her makeup was bold but refined, with a smoky eye and a deep nude lip that complimented the modern yet timeless aesthetic of her outfit. Her hair, styled in sleek waves, cascaded over her shoulders, completing the look with understated glamour.

The moment she appeared, camera flashes erupted like a cascade of stars, illuminating her figure as she turned toward the crowd with a radiant, confident smile. Her gaze scanned the faces of her fans, and she lifted a hand to wave at them, her gesture warm and genuine, eliciting another round of enthusiastic screams. “Luna!” they called out, their voices blending into a symphony of admiration.

Luna took a moment to pose for the cameras, her movements fluid and poised. She turned slightly, offering the photographers a three-quarter view that showcased the intricate detailing on her coat. Her hands rested lightly at her sides as she shifted her weight, tilting her head just enough to cast a sultry glance over her shoulder before turning forward again, her expression softening into a radiant smile.

The rhythm of camera clicks seemed to intensify as she struck the perfect balance between composure and approachability.

She stepped closer to the barricades, waving again to the fans who were calling her name. Some reached out eagerly, holding out pens and posters in the hope of an autograph. While her team guided her along, Luna paused briefly to acknowledge a few of them, her smile never wavering.

A fan shouted, “You’re so beautiful!” and Luna, catching the compliment, turned her head slightly, her smile widening as she gave a small, playful bow in gratitude.

Turning back toward the venue, Luna moved with unhurried grace, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she ascended the steps leading inside. Before entering, she turned one last time to face the crowd, giving a final wave that felt both regal and personal.

The cheering rose to a crescendo, the air buzzing with excitement as she disappeared into the venue, leaving an indelible impression on everyone outside.

The sun dipped low over the Paris skyline, painting the city in hues of amber and gold as Jeonghan and Luna stepped out of their car for their final event of the day. Both were dressed to perfection, exuding a quiet elegance that turned heads.

Luna wore a fitted, off-shoulder black dress adorned with subtle glittering embellishments that caught the light, paired with sleek stilettos that elongated her figure. Jeonghan, ever the embodiment of sophistication, was in a sharp double-breasted navy suit, his hair swept back to reveal his striking features.

Together, they radiated a magnetic charm.

“Finally, we are here to have a private viewing at FRED,” Luna said with a soft smile as she turned on the camera to document the moment for her vlog.

“Yes, let’s go and check out FRED’s new collection with me and of course, our Jiyeonie,” Jeonghan added, his tone teasing yet smooth, as he stood by her side.

Inside, the luxury boutique was impeccably designed, its minimalist elegance allowing the jewels on display to truly shine.

The pair was greeted warmly by the CEO and high-ranking figures of the brand, who had gathered for the private viewing. Handshakes and polite bows were exchanged, their warmth making the atmosphere relaxed yet intimate. The CEO gestured for them to follow, and Luna and Jeonghan were led into a private room where the newest collection awaited

The moment they stepped inside, Luna’s eyes widened, sparkling like the diamonds before her. The centerpiece of the room was an elegantly arranged display of jewelry— necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings, each more dazzling than the last. Luna’s gaze flitted from one piece to another, her expression a mixture of awe and childlike delight. She moved closer, leaning over slightly to get a better look at a particularly stunning set.

“Wait, hold on,” she gasped, her voice tinged with wonder as her eyes landed on a heart-shaped diamond necklace accompanied by matching earrings, a bracelet that cleverly doubled as a hidden watch, and a delicate ring. “This might be my favorite one.” Her tone was light, yet the sincerity in her words was undeniable

Her reaction drew soft laughter from the FRED team, charmed by her genuine enthusiasm. Jeonghan, standing just behind her, leaned in to get a closer look himself, his presence close but not overbearing.

“It’s so gorgeous,” Luna said, her voice quieter now as she glanced up at him. “I really want this.”

Jeonghan’s lips curled into an amused smile. “Do you?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he watched her.

The CEO, amused by their exchange, stepped forward. “Would you like to try them on?”

Luna looked up, surprised but clearly delighted. “Can I?”

“For you? Yes, of course,” the CEO replied warmly, prompting Luna to laugh softly, her cheeks faintly tinged with color.

She was seated on a plush velvet couch, where a professional with gloved hands began carefully removing the pieces from their display. The heart-shaped diamond necklace was the first to be draped around her neck.

The cool metal made her flinch slightly, and she laughed softly. “It’s cold,” she remarked, shivering just a little as a member of her staff stood behind her, holding her hair up.

Next came the earrings, followed by the bracelet-watch, each piece accentuating her elegance. When it was time for the ring, Luna unknowingly lifted her left hand for the jeweler to slip it on.

The woman assisting her paused, a playful smile on her lips. “No, not for that finger yet,” she joked, her voice light, but the implication clear.

Luna laughed, her cheeks heating up as she glanced at Jeonghan, who was busy taking photos of her on his phone. She didn’t miss the way his lips quirked upward in amusement after hearing their translator translate to him, his gaze flickering briefly to her left hand before returning to her face.

“Beautiful,” Jeonghan murmured after a beat, his voice just loud enough for her to hear.

“Right?” Luna replied, meeting his eyes with a smile before turning her attention back to the team. “It’s amazing. I might not control myself and get this entire collection,” she added, her tone lighthearted, drawing laughter from the room.

The private viewing continued with both Luna and Jeonghan trying on various pieces. Jeonghan, though quieter, had his moments of playful commentary, especially when Luna’s excitement over a particular piece was palpable.

By the end of the session, the couple had impulsively decided on matching necklaces, the simplicity of the design contrasting beautifully with its luxurious quality.

As they finalized their selections, Luna turned to Jeonghan, her expression soft but teasing. “I think we’re going to need an extra suitcase for all the shopping we’re about to do,” she joked, earning a chuckle from him.

“We’ll make it work,” he replied, his tone reassuring, though the glint in his eye suggested he’d enjoy watching her figure it out.

The Parisian streets were alive with a soft glow from the streetlights, illuminating the cobblestones as Luna and Jeonghan strolled side by side. Both had changed into more casual yet effortlessly chic outfits for their evening out after the private viewing.

Luna wore an oversized black trench coat draped over her shoulders, paired with high-waisted jeans and a fitted black turtleneck. Jeonghan was equally fashionable, dressed in a tailored black coat over a red top and jeans, his hair slightly tousled from the breeze. The two of them walked arm-in-arm, their bodyguard trailing a few steps behind, holding several shopping bags from their previous stops.

The staff holding the camera out for the vlog, filming the two gave them a signal before Luna started speaking. “So, we just finished our private viewing at FRED,” she began, her tone light and conversational. “And now, as promised, we’re shopping.” She turned towards Jeonghan with a teasing smile. “Because someone said I could.”

Jeonghan raised a brow at her but smiled, leaning into the frame. “Someone had to say yes,” he teased. “Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Luna gasped dramatically, glaring at him playfully. “Excuse me? I’m being very responsible about this. I’m not just buying for myself.”

“Right,” Jeonghan drawled, the smirk on his lips unmistakable. “Totally responsible. That’s why there are at least three bags already.”

Luna pouted, flipping her hair as if to dismiss him. “For your information, I bought something for my parents. And I’m planning to get stuff for the members too. So technically, I’m just being very thoughtful.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re always thoughtful. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a little problem when it comes to shopping.”

Luna rolled her eyes but laughed, linking her arm more tightly with his as they entered another boutique. The warm lighting inside reflected off the polished displays, showcasing rows of high-end clothing, shoes, and accessories.

As they stepped inside, Luna immediately gravitated towards a rack of brightly colored blazers. She picked up a soft lavender one, holding it up to herself in the mirror. “What do you think?” she asked, glancing at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan leaned against a nearby column, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “You already know my answer. You look amazing in everything.”

“That’s not helpful,” Luna muttered, shaking her head as she handed the blazer to a sales assistant and moved on to a pair of sleek leather boots. She slipped one on, turning her foot to admire the fit. “Should I get these in black or brown?” she called out.

“Both,” Jeonghan answered without hesitation, earning a pointed look from her.

“Han,” she said, exasperated but amused.

He shrugged, walking over to her. “I’m just saying. You’ll end up using both eventually.”

Luna huffed but grinned, moving to another section while Jeonghan trailed behind her, turning to the camera filming them. “Alright, everyone,” he said in a mock-serious tone, directing the camera to point at Luna as she sifted through rows of handbags. “This is what it’s like shopping with our Jiyeonie. She’s currently pretending she’s deciding between two colors, but we all know she’s going to get both.”

Luna glanced back at him, feigning annoyance. “Don’t expose me.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied, the mischief in his voice evident.

The sales assistants couldn’t help but smile at their banter as Luna turned her attention to the men’s section. She picked up a soft cream-colored shirt, holding it up against Jeonghan’s chest. “How about this one?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Jeonghan examined it briefly. “It’s nice.”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “Just nice?”

“I’ll wear whatever you pick,” he said simply, his gaze meeting hers with an amused softness. “There are perks to shopping with you, after all.”

Luna laughed, catching the meaning behind his words. “Perks like me buying things for you too?”

He smiled, not denying it. “You said it, not me.”

They continued their shopping spree, Luna occasionally asking for Jeonghan’s opinion while he mostly observed, teasing her or quietly marveling at how excited she got over each item. By the end of their visit, their bodyguard was carrying even more bags, and Luna turned back to the camera with a triumphant smile.

“This was productive,” she declared, her tone light and happy.

Jeonghan glanced at the growing pile of bags and then back at her. “Productive for your wardrobe, maybe.”

Luna just grinned, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked back out into the cool Paris night.

The cozy restaurant was warm and softly lit, a pleasant contrast to the crisp Parisian night outside. Luna and Jeonghan sat close to each other at a small table by the window, sharing quiet giggles as they leaned over a digital camera that Jeonghan held. The bright display illuminated their faces, highlighting the easy smiles and fondness between them. Jeonghan’s elbow rested casually on the table, while Luna leaned slightly into his side, her hand occasionally brushing his as they scrolled through the photos.

To Luna’s other side, Hoshi was perched with a fork in hand, digging into a decadent slice of dessert. “We’re eating dessert right now,” he announced to the camera in front of them, his tone cheerful and slightly muffled by his mouthful of cake. “I arrived in Paris today and met Jeonghan and Jiyeonie.”

His words were accompanied by a bright grin, and Luna and Jeonghan both chuckled softly at his energy, momentarily distracted from their camera.

Jeonghan finally looked up, turning to address the vlogging camera set up by their staff. “This is a camera I bought because it’s cute,” he explained, holding it up for the audience to see before shifting it toward Hoshi. “I’ll take pictures of Hoshi and gift you the pictures a year later,” he teased, his voice light and amused.

Hoshi laughed loudly, leaning into the frame with a playful pose. “Go ahead. I’m ready,” he said, dramatically angling his face as if preparing for a magazine shoot.

“Enjoy the food,” Jeonghan remarked dryly, snapping a quick picture of Hoshi while Luna chuckled at the interaction.

“I want the flash to work,” Jeonghan muttered, fidgeting with the buttons on the camera.

Luna leaned closer, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck to steady herself as she adjusted the settings with her other hand. “It’s this,” she murmured, turning on the flash with a soft click. Her fingers brushed lightly against his as she handed the camera back to him.

“So cute,” Jeonghan murmured, lifting the camera again. “Hoshi’s so cute.” The flash went off, capturing a bright snapshot of Hoshi mid-bite.

“Did you take it?” Hoshi asked, leaning over slightly.

“Yeah, so cute.” Jeonghan nodded, his expression pleased as he checked the screen. “It came out well.”

“You’re so cute, Soonie,” Luna chimed in, taking another delicate bite of her own dessert. Her tone was warm, laced with affection as she smiled at Hoshi.

“The flash needs to work for a good picture,” Jeonghan said, his focus still on the camera. He tilted the screen to show Hoshi the photo. “How is it?”

“That’s good,” Hoshi replied enthusiastically, leaning in to examine it more closely.

“It’s good, right? Isn’t it cute?” Jeonghan asked, turning to Luna and holding the camera up for her to see.

“This is Hoshi,” Jeonghan said, showing the image to the vlog camera. “Then next is Hoshi with the flash. So cute,” he remarked with a teasing grin.

Luna, momentarily engrossed in her cake, didn’t notice as Jeonghan turned the camera toward her. The flash went off, and she immediately paused mid-bite, her eyes darting up in surprise before she instinctively struck a quick, playful pose.

Jeonghan chuckled, taking another shot. “Caught you,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Ya, give me a warning next time,” Luna scolded lightly, though her tone was filled with amusement. She adjusted her hair and posed again, making Jeonghan laugh as he snapped another photo.

“Alright, one more, Nana-ya,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. He was fully immersed in capturing her, the fondness in his gaze evident as he clicked the button once more.

“Let me try now,” Hoshi interrupted, reaching for the camera. “I’ll take one of you two.”

Jeonghan handed over the device, and Luna shifted in her seat, wrapping her arms loosely around Jeonghan’s neck as she leaned her head atop his. Jeonghan responded by slipping an arm around her waist, holding her close. They held the pose for a few seconds, the camera flashing twice as Hoshi captured the moment.

“Okay, now flip it and join us,” Luna instructed, gesturing for Hoshi to come closer. He grinned and set up the camera on the table, flipping the screen to face them before settling in beside her.

The three of them posed together, Luna in the middle with Jeonghan and Hoshi leaning in on either side. The camera captured their bright smiles and easy camaraderie, freezing the moment in time.

Afterward, Hoshi handed the camera back to Jeonghan, who immediately scrolled through the photos. The three of them leaned closer, their heads nearly touching as they admired the pictures.

Jeonghan held up the camera for the vlog. “Anyways, it’s a camera I bought because it’s so cute,” he repeated, tucking it back into his coat pocket with care. “As soon as Hoshi arrived, we met to eat dinner. So we just had a snail dish, and now we’re eating dessert. We forgot to record, so we’re now recording during dessert,” he explained.

“He was too excited with the camera, he forgot the vlog,” Luna teased, her tone light and playful as she turned to him with a knowing grin.

Jeonghan raised a brow at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Says the one who got completely distracted earlier shopping for everyone and their pets.”

Luna gasped, feigning indignation. “That was for our members too!”

“And yet, I saw the most bags in your name,” Jeonghan quipped, his deadpan delivery earning a burst of laughter from Hoshi.

Their teasing continued, filled with warmth and laughter, as they savored the last bites of their dessert, the bustling energy of Paris providing the perfect backdrop to their lighthearted evening.

The three of them strolled through the glowing streets of Paris, the cobblestones reflecting the soft yellow light from the ornate streetlamps above. Luna was nestled between Jeonghan and Hoshi, her arms comfortably linked with theirs as they walked in sync.

The evening air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and the occasional waft of something delicious from nearby cafes. Their staff walked in front of them, capturing the moment on camera as the trio laughed and chatted, their voices blending into the quiet hum of the city.

“We’ve finished eating, and since the Eiffel Tower is just around the corner…” Jeonghan began, speaking directly to the camera with his signature calm, slightly amused tone.

“This street is so pretty,” Hoshi interrupted, his eyes darting around to take in the charm of the Parisian architecture as they crossed a quiet intersection.

“Right?” Jeonghan agreed, glancing at him with a small smile. “This is the place Jiyeonie and I said was pretty when we were in the car.”

“Oh, really?” Hoshi asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replied.

“It’s even prettier at night,” Luna chimed in, her voice soft yet full of wonder as she glanced around. The lights made her features glow, her excitement bubbling just under the surface.

They continued walking at a leisurely pace, the sounds of their footsteps blending with the faint chatter of people in the distance. Jeonghan glanced toward the camera again, adding, “We’ve walked about ten minutes to see the Eiffel Tower. Jiyeonie told us that it sparkles every hour on the hour.”

“It does,” Luna confirmed, her eyes lighting up. “I really want to see it because I didn’t get to last time when I was here.”

Jeonghan nodded, a touch of excitement breaking through his typically calm demeanor. “We have a minute left, but right now it’s hidden because of the buildings,” he said, pulling out his phone to check the time. His lock screen, a close-up photo of his and Luna’s eyes with their heads tilted together, caught the light briefly.

Luna caught sight of it and gave Jeonghan’s arm a gentle tap with her free hand. Her gaze flicked up to his, and she raised a brow with a knowing look.

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, quickly pocketing his phone again. “What?” he teased, though the faint blush on his cheeks was unmistakable.

“We need to get there quickly,” Luna said, shaking her head at him but smiling nonetheless. “It’s almost time.”

“I wanted to see it sparkling,” Jeonghan added, his voice tinged with anticipation. “It’s fifty-nine minutes right now.”

“We need to see it when it changes,” Hoshi said, his steps quickening to match their urgency.

“Right. Exactly when it changes,” Luna agreed, her voice lilting with excitement.

“How long does it sparkle?” Hoshi asked, glancing between them as they visibly started to hurry, their pace picking up.

“I don’t know,” Luna admitted, her tone slightly breathless as they turned a corner.

“Forty seconds?” Jeonghan guessed, throwing out a random number.

“Forty seconds?” Hoshi repeated in mock disbelief, his wide eyes making Jeonghan laugh.

“I don’t know!” Jeonghan replied, shrugging with a grin. “Won’t it stop after ten p.m.?”

“I think it would be longer, no?” Luna said, her voice hopeful as she picked up the pace, her heels clicking against the pavement.

The trio moved with a newfound urgency, their laughter and quick exchanges punctuating the quiet streets as they hurried toward their goal.

Jeonghan pointed ahead as they continued walking briskly through the dimly lit streets, the Eiffel Tower’s glow visible just above the rooftops. “I think that’s a rooftop terrace,” he said, gesturing toward a cluster of faint red lights glowing in the distance. “See those red lights? That would be a perfect spot to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle.”

Hoshi, catching sight of it too, took off suddenly, jogging ahead in his excitement. “Wait for us!” Luna called after him before letting out a worried gasp. “Shi-shi! Be careful!” Her voice rose slightly, eyes narrowing at the wet patches glinting on the pavement.

Jeonghan chuckled at her motherly tone, his hand slipping down to catch hers. Without hesitation, he linked their fingers together and gently tugged her forward. “Come on, let’s go see the tower sparkle!” he urged, his grin both playful and encouraging.

Luna narrowed her eyes at him but let herself be pulled forward, picking up her pace carefully. “If I fall flat on my face, I’m dragging you with me, Yoon Jeonghan,” she warned, her voice filled with mock seriousness.

“Deal,” he said with a teasing lilt, glancing over his shoulder at her. “But I won’t let you fall. You trust me, don’t you?”

She huffed but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re lucky I do,” she muttered, carefully jogging alongside him.

As they neared the clearing, their pace slowed. Hoshi, still ahead of them, stopped abruptly, his figure silhouetted by the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. The structure loomed grandly above them, its lights shimmering like scattered stars against the night sky.

“Look at this,” Jeonghan murmured, his tone soft with awe. He squeezed Luna’s hand lightly, as if grounding himself in the moment. “It’s so big.”

Luna tilted her head back to take it all in, her breath hitching slightly. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with wonder.

Hoshi turned around, his face lit up with excitement. “Wanna snap some pics?” he asked, already pulling out his camera.

“You brought your camera?” Jeonghan asked, a mix of surprise and approval in his tone.

“Yeah, of course,” Hoshi replied, fiddling with the settings as he approached them.

Jeonghan fixed his coat slightly, adjusting the lapels of his shirt before striking a casual yet effortlessly cool pose. “Alright, get my good side,” he said with a smirk, standing a few steps in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Hoshi snapped a couple of pictures, then motioned for Luna. “Your turn, Jiyeonie,” he said.

Luna fixed her hair for a moment, smoothing down her coat before stepping into frame. She glanced at Jeonghan for reassurance, and he gave her a small nod, mouthing, “You look great.” She smiled softly, then turned her attention back to the camera as Hoshi captured a few shots.

“It comes out like this,” Hoshi said, stepping closer to show them the photos on his camera screen.

Jeonghan leaned in to look, his brows furrowing slightly. “Oh, yeah. The lighting isn’t right at all,” he commented, his tone mildly critical.

“Press this,” Luna said, reaching out to click a button on the camera. She adjusted a few settings with practiced ease, her expression focused. “There. That should help.”

“I’m so bad with cameras,” Jeonghan admitted with a small chuckle, watching her work.

“Me too,” Hoshi said, nodding in agreement.

Luna handed the camera back to Hoshi and turned toward Jeonghan, who was already reaching for her hand. He tugged her closer gently, his other arm resting lightly on her waist. “Come on,” he said softly, glancing down at her with a slight tilt of his head. “Let’s take one together.”

She smiled at him, the moment briefly charged with a quiet intimacy before they turned their attention back to the camera. Hoshi snapped a photo of them, the Eiffel Tower sparkling brightly behind them, casting a magical glow over the scene.

As the photos were taken, Jeonghan glanced at the glittering tower and murmured, almost to himself, “To think that I’d see Paris and the Eiffel Tower in my lifetime.”

Luna glanced up at him, her expression softening. “And now you’ve seen it,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with meaning.

Jeonghan looked down at her, his lips curving into a small, tender smile. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes holding hers. “And it’s better than I ever imagined.”

Jeonghan and Luna strolled side by side through the cobblestone pathway leading to the iconic Louvre Museum. The brisk morning air carried with it the soft murmurs of tourists and the occasional flutter of pigeons that darted past them.

“We’re here at the Louvre Museum,” Jeonghan announced cheerfully, turning slightly to the camera following them, his free hand gesturing toward the museum’s grand facade. His voice held the lively warmth of someone fully immersed in the experience.

“Ta-da!” both he and Luna chimed in unison, their voices overlapping perfectly. They turned to look at each other, momentarily surprised by their synchronicity, and broke into soft chuckles.

“I was so curious about how the Louvre Museum would be,” Jeonghan continued as they approached closer to the museum. “I only ever saw it in textbooks.”

Luna tilted her head in agreement. “It does feel surreal seeing it in person, doesn’t it?”

“After taking a picture with this pyramid,” Jeonghan added, pointing toward the famed glass pyramid ahead, “Jiyeonie and I will go explore the museum.”

The grand pyramid sparkled in the crisp daylight, and tourists were already gathering around it, their cameras clicking incessantly. Jeonghan’s gaze shifted to a flock of pigeons pecking at crumbs scattered nearby. He smiled slyly and nudged Luna with his elbow, his tone teasing as he pointed toward them.

“This place totally feels like Europe. The buildings and the pigeons,” he said. “You think of Europe when you think of pigeons.”

Luna halted mid-step, narrowing her eyes at him. She side-eyed him with a playful exasperation that made his grin widen.

“Really?” she asked dryly, her voice laced with mock disbelief.

Jeonghan laughed, the sound rich and unbothered. “I’m serious! Don’t they give it away? Very European vibes.”

“Right,” Luna muttered with a shake of her head, though her lips twitched, threatening to betray her amusement.

As they reached the photo spot, Jeonghan looked around at the setup— an elevated stand positioned strategically to allow visitors to align themselves perfectly with the pyramid’s tip. “Is this the photo spot?” he asked, his finger pointing toward the stand.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Luna confirmed with a hum, eyeing the growing line of tourists.

“I want to take a picture here too,” Jeonghan said eagerly, rubbing his hands together in excitement. But his enthusiasm quickly faltered as he shivered against the brisk wind. “So cold!” he exclaimed with a slight pout.

Luna, who had been busy candidly snapping photos of him from a slight distance, immediately looked up at his complaint. Her expression softened as she tucked her camera under her arm and waddled toward him in her oversized coat. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Jeonghan’s arms came up naturally, enveloping her as he smiled over her head.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, his voice low with contentment as they swayed lightly from side to side.

“There are seagulls here too?” Jeonghan suddenly said, peering over her shoulder at the sky.

Luna pulled back slightly, her brows arching. “Does it make you think of Europe too?” she teased, recalling his earlier comment about the pigeons.

“Yes,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, his eyes dancing with humor. “But there’s no ocean here. Is it because of the Seine?” His tone was curious, but the sly glint in his eye betrayed him. He leaned closer and said, with deliberate emphasis, “The sensible Seine.”

Luna groaned, letting out a dry laugh as she bumped her hip against his. “The really sensible Seine,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“We went there last time, right?” Jeonghan prompted, his lips quirking upward.

“We did, Hannie,” Luna coaxed, her tone indulging him.

“In the morning, when it was cold,” he added, his gaze softening as he recalled the memory. “It was like 8 am or 8:30 am.”

“Right,” Luna said, nodding as she adjusted the scarf around her neck. “You dragged me out of bed to walk with you.”

Jeonghan’s brows lifted, his grin playful. “Dragged you? I simply encouraged you to embrace the Parisian morning, Nana-ya.”

“You literally pulled the blankets off me,” Luna countered, her tone a perfect blend of exasperation and fondness.

Jeonghan chuckled, his gaze flicking down to her face as they continued walking. “And you didn’t complain when we found that bakery with the croissants.”

She huffed, unable to argue. “That bakery saved your life.”

They paused as the line to the photo platform moved forward. Jeonghan observed the other tourists, noting how they posed creatively to align their fingers or hands with the pyramid’s tip. “Oh, everyone’s doing that,” he said, pointing toward one group as they struck exaggerated poses.

Finally, it was their turn. “Okay, let’s do it,” Jeonghan said, stepping toward the platform.

Luna smiled as she nudged him forward gently. “You go first,” she said, already pulling out her digital camera to capture the moment.

Jeonghan hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Tell me if it’s weird. Where do I do it?” he asked, stepping onto the platform and striking an awkward pose.

Luna laughed softly, adjusting the camera. “That’s good. Do that,” she encouraged, snapping a couple of photos.

After a few moments, Jeonghan hopped down and handed her the camera. “Your turn,” he said, reaching out to hold her hand as he helped her onto the platform. His grip was steady, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Luna glanced back at him as she stood in position. “What should I do?” she asked.

“Just look natural,” Jeonghan said, his voice teasing as he raised the camera. “Which shouldn’t be hard for you.”

She rolled her eyes but followed his direction, posing gracefully as he snapped the photos. When she hopped down, Jeonghan studied the pictures on the screen, his smile softening.

“Let’s do it together,” he said, turning to her.

Luna glanced at the platform, then at him. “I don’t think it’s allowed,” she muttered. “And even if it is, I don’t think we’ll fit.”

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan coaxed, tugging lightly on her arm. His tone shifted into something softer, almost childlike. “Come on, just one. For me?”

“You want us to get kicked out is what you’re saying,” Luna deadpanned, though the corners of her mouth twitched.

Jeonghan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Who’s going to kick us out? I’ll tell them it’s for love. No one argues with love.”

Luna groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead. “You’re impossible. What are you even talking about?”

“Yet here you are, standing next to me,” he quipped, his grin widening.

She sighed dramatically but finally relented. “Fine,” she said, holding up a finger. “But not on the platform. We’ll take it in front of the pyramid.”

Jeonghan’s eyes lit up, and he gave her a quick, triumphant nod. “Deal.”

Luna handed the camera to one of their staff members, her fingers lingering for a brief moment as she explained the settings with quiet precision. Jeonghan stood a few steps behind her, adjusting his jacket with a casual air but watching her with a subtle smile.

Once everything was set, Luna turned back to him, brushing her hair back from her face as the wind played with the loose strands. They moved instinctively closer, standing side by side before Jeonghan shifted, sliding an arm around her waist with easy familiarity. The two of them stood in perfect harmony, the glass pyramid of the Louvre sparkling behind them, its geometric lines catching the soft winter sunlight.

Luna rested one hand lightly on his chest, glancing up at him with a faint smirk as if challenging his pose, while Jeonghan tilted his head toward her, his expression effortlessly cool yet warm with a hint of teasing affection. Their chemistry was palpable, the slight turn of their bodies toward each other radiating an intimacy that the camera effortlessly captured.

Jeonghan and Luna stepped out of the grand entrance of the Louvre, the sound of their footsteps softened by the uneven cobblestone pathway. Jeonghan pulled his jacket a little tighter against the crisp winter air and tilted his head toward the camera that trailed them.

“We saw the Mona Lisa and took a lot of pictures,” Jeonghan said, his tone light, almost proud, though his eyes betrayed the fatigue of walking through the museum for hours.

“Too many pictures,” Luna chimed in, emphasized with an amused shake of her head, her lips curving into a teasing smile. She glanced at him, and their eyes met briefly, his widening in mock innocence as if silently asking, Was it my fault?

“There were so many incredible pieces,” Jeonghan continued, looking back at the camera. “I’m usually not that interested in museums or art museums, but here—” he paused, gesturing vaguely with his free hand toward the Louvre behind them, “there were a lot of pieces that were just so amazing I went, ‘Wow, this is cool.’ It was actually fun.” His expression softened, his genuine surprise at enjoying the experience adding a boyish charm to his demeanor.

Luna nodded along, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat as she kept pace beside him. “Museums are very fun places for me to go to. I find different types of art interesting, and being in the Louvre and seeing the iconic pieces we only see in pictures made me appreciate it even more.” She spoke calmly, her words deliberate, as if reflecting on the experience in real-time.

Jeonghan cast her a sidelong glance, a hint of admiration flickering in his eyes as he listened to her. “You sounded like a professional just now,” he teased, nudging her shoulder lightly with his own.

“Maybe I should host an art documentary next,” Luna shot back smoothly, her tone playful but with a touch of sincerity.

Jeonghan chuckled, his breath visible in the chilly air. “I’d watch it. As long as it’s you narrating.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed faintly, whether from the cold or his words was hard to tell. “And you’d be fast asleep five minutes in.”

“Hey, I’d watch the whole thing,” Jeonghan replied, feigning offense. His teasing grin gave him away, though, and Luna laughed, shaking her head.

As they neared the street corner, they both turned to wave at the camera, their figures silhouetted against the backdrop of the historic museum. Jeonghan raised a hand, his fingers splaying in an exaggerated gesture of farewell. “Bye, everyone!”

“See you in the next spot,” Luna added with a smile, her voice soft but cheerful as she glanced at Jeonghan one last time before they continued walking away, side by side, their footsteps fading into the Parisian buzz.

Jeonghan held the baguette carefully in one hand as he and Luna climbed the sloping streets of Montmartre. The iconic neighborhood, bathed in the warm hues of late afternoon sunlight, felt alive with its cobblestone streets and quaint Parisian charm.

Jeonghan adjusted the beige hoodie— now his for the day— under his black blazer, his free hand tucked casually into his pocket as he walked beside Luna. She looked effortlessly chic in her beige long coat over a black turtleneck and matching pants, the two of them unintentionally coordinated but perfectly in sync.

“Here we are at Montmartre,” Jeonghan said, glancing at the camera being carried by their staff just ahead of them. “When DK went to Europe, he left a comment on my social media saying he wanted a Paris baguette, so…” He lifted the baguette slightly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. “I got this baguette for DK.”

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head as she glanced over at him. “Are you seriously planning to take that back to Korea?” she asked, her tone amused but affectionate.

Jeonghan nodded solemnly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Of course. I’ll hand it to him myself. It’s my mission now.”

“That baguette’s going to be as hard as a rock by the time we get there,” Luna teased, her laughter light and melodious as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, tapping the baguette against his palm for effect. “DK will appreciate it.”

Luna tilted her head, a skeptical smile on her lips. “Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when he actually eats it.”

Jeonghan laughed, his shoulders shaking as they continued walking. “We’ve come here for Fashion Week,” he said, addressing the camera again, “and now we have to head to the airport.”

“It’s been such a whirlwind trip,” Luna added, glancing at him. “Feels like we just got here.”

Jeonghan hummed in agreement. “We just saw Montmartre, and we have an hour left. So I said I wanted to see the Eiffel Tower during the day one last time. That’s where we’re headed now.”

Luna turned, pointing at the faint silhouette of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. “There’s the Eiffel Tower,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet excitement.

Jeonghan followed her gaze, a faint sigh escaping him. “It’s sad, but it’s time to leave Paris. It was so fun here.”

“I know,” Luna agreed softly. “I wish we could’ve explored more and stayed longer. There are still so many places I want to visit in France.”

Jeonghan’s curiosity piqued, and he looked at her. “Where do you want to go?”

“Cannes, the Palace of Versailles… Disneyland!” she listed off, her eyes lighting up at the last destination.

Jeonghan smiled warmly at her enthusiasm. “Disneyland, huh? We’ll go there next time. I promise we’ll visit all those places soon.”

“You mean it?” Luna asked, her voice soft, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

Jeonghan met her gaze, his voice gentle but firm. “Of course. Anything for you.” He muttered but his words carried a quiet sincerity, the kind that made Luna’s heart skip a beat.

By the time they reached the base of the Eiffel Tower, the sun had started to dip lower, casting a golden glow over the iconic structure. They stopped in front of it, turning to face the camera together. Jeonghan raised his hand in a wave, his expression a mix of contentment and reluctance. “Everyone, we’re saying goodbye to Paris,” he said, his voice carrying a soft finality.

“Goodbye for now, Paris,” Luna added, her wave graceful, her smile tinged with bittersweetness.

“We’ll visit again, Paris!” Jeonghan said, his tone brighter now, as if reassuring both the viewers and themselves.

“Bye!” they said together, their voices harmonizing as they waved one last time. With the Eiffel Tower standing tall behind them, the scene faded, their silhouettes glowing in the Parisian sunset. The vlog ended, leaving behind a feeling of warmth and nostalgia.

comments…

@/lunababybae • 1 year ago ╰ THE LINGERING STARES BETWEEN THEM!!?! HELLO?!! you simply cannot convince me that they are “only best friends” like they say 🥱

@/rinarieee • 1 year ago ╰ JeongNa being lovey dovey in the city of love…

@/gyusshadow • 1 year ago ╰The flirting, the pda, the outfits, the face cards, Jeongna… 10/10! Would recommend!

@/moonbae17 • 1 year ago ╰ Luna: “I took my parents here the first time a couple of years ago. It was a gift to them for their wedding anniversary. It was only supposed to be the two of them, but they wanted me there with them.” Jeonghan: “Pretty.” TF?! I SIMPLY CANNOT WITH THEM ANYMORE!!!!!?₱/₱2!₱/‘

@/saythename • 1 year ago ╰ THEM SHAMELESSLY HOLDING HANDS AT 5:44

@/mad-lineeee • 1 year ago ╰ JEONGHAN FUCKING STARING AT LUNA AS THEY TOOK PHOTOS 6:15 HE IS IN LOVE 🤭💖

@/mrsbaebae • 1 year ago ╰ never thought I would need a vlog of JeongNa’s date yet here we are

@/alyy1625 • 1 year ago ╰ THE FLIRTING?!? GOOD LORD 😮‍💨

@/jeongnanana • 1 year ago ╰ shopaholic Jiyeonie strikes again! honesty, she is a mood 😂

@/gyuuuuudaily• 1 year ago ╰ GOD I JUST LOVE HER BRITISH ACCENT SO MUCH 😫 ITS LIKE BUTTER.

@/sallluuuteee17 • 1 year ago ╰ 6:55 Jeonghan: “My mouth is frozen… It’s hard to talk,” Luna: *puckers her fucking lips* WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM, HONESTLY WHAT?!/₱/₱&/7 WHAT DO THEY WANT WITH ME?!&27/₱!&@2&’sisjiajska

@/lulu-nana17• 1 year ago ╰ it’s either they are sharing a hotel room… or I am crazy…

@/sebongrighthere • 1 year ago ╰ HANNIE FEEDING JIYEONIE THEN WIPING HER LIPS BEFORE PROCEEDING TO LICK HIS THUMB 🥵

@/missbitchhhh • 1 year ago ╰ “Always gets her way.” AS IF YOU WEREN’T GONNA AGREE ON THE GET GO, YOON JEONGHAN?!!

@/shadowmyshadow• 1 year ago ╰ HANDS DOWN THE BEST FASHION WEEK LOOKS FROM JEONGNA 💞😌

@/angel7266 • 1 year ago ╰ 8:30 JEONGHAN SMIRKING WHEN THE WOMAN JOKINGLY TOLD LUNA “Not on that finger yet.” WHEN SHE WAS ABOUT TO PLACE THE RING ON HER LEFT!! RING!!! FINGER!!!!

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 1 year ago ╰ the FRED CEO and other associates lowkey gushing at Luna and giving her heart eyes while her watermark was busy taking pictures of her on HIS phone 🤪

@/user763816262 • 1 year ago ╰ Han commentating while Jiyeonie was shopping 😂

@/ashonashonash_ • 1 year ago ╰ 9:33 “This is what it’s like shopping with our Jiyeonie. She’s currently pretending she’s deciding between two colors, but we all know she’s going to get both.” YOON JEONGHAN THE MENACE 😂😂😂

@/jijijiyeonienie • 1 year ago ╰ Jeonghan referring to Jiyeon as OUR Jiyeonie 🥹

@/kpopfan17 • 1 year ago ╰ 9:45 IPad kid Hoshi with his filthy rich parents ☺️

@/belleeeee_ • 1 year ago ╰ Luna calling Hoshi “Shi-shi” GOODBYE 🥹 she was scolding her and everything… JeongNa parents!!!

@/diamondlifeu • 10 months ago ╰ JIYEONIE WADDLING OVER TO HUG HANNIE WHEN HE WAS COLD 🥹

@/gyuminggooo • 10 months ago ╰ “Who’s going to kick us out? I’ll tell them it’s for love. No one argues with love.” WTF YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOON JEONGHAN?!!/₱!/&/₱7/!/8/

@/dailynanana • 9 months ago ╰ “Anyhing for you.” TAKE ME TO DISNEYLAND TOO JEONGHAN?!!!

@/chuuuuchhuu17 • 9 months ago ╰ I AM LIVING FOR THIS VLOG!

@/lalunanova • 7 months ago ╰ Let’s be honest. JeongNa vlogs are the best 🤭

@/17-carat • 5 months ago ╰ 10:55 they look at each other as if they are really in love 🥹 guys! the JeongNa theories might be true!!!

@/myg145 • 1 month ago ╰ IT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF US, IM AFRAID!! THEY WERE SO OBVIOUSLY DATING AND NEVER HID ANYTHING… THEY WERE HIDING THEIR RELATIONSHIP IN PLAIN SIGHT 🥹❤️‍🩹

@/bjy_lover • 1 week ago ╰ rewatching this again now knowing that these two have been dating for five years and are engaged for months now. my JeongNa heart is so full 🩷🥹

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque

they looked at me first...

I will be a stranger when we meet again…

If this isn’t just 3 hours of extra Neteyam content I will be upset

pairing: oscar piastri x fewtrell!reader, lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: Y/N makes a heartfelt confession

warnings: SMAU (no written parts), swearing, mature themes (!!!), use of y/n, angst

previous part | masterlist | next part

a/n: for the sake of my sanity, let's pretend the hoodies are actually the same!

liked by oscarpiastri and others

ynfewtrell you can always find me at the nearest café 💌☕️

view all comments

user Here before Oscar

user stunning 🤍

maxfewtrell Omg queen of digital nomads

ynfewtrell stop???

pietra.pilao pink is your color 💗

user so is orange! (iykyk)

user WHERE’S OSCAR

user @.oscarpiastri find her

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

taglist: @harrysdimple05 @milkysoop @charlesgirl16 @wosof1 @dullypully @illicitverstappen @back-on-my-bullsh @revrse @skepvids @piastrams @a-beaverhausen @l-vroom4 @wildflowerhuggy @meglouise00 @formulaal @smithieandy @sltwins @awritingtree @colmathgames2 @org12 @alice-went-away @grovelingmen @taasgirl @anotherapollokid @d3kstar @gnarlycore @priniya @leclercdream @skeleton-elly @verstappensrealwife @seonghwaexile

@hellowgoodbye @samantha-chicago @delululeclerc @5sospenguinqueen @riverxsq @s0meth1ngs @silentreader128 @cheer-bear-go-vroom @sarahsobsession @raweceekk @willowsnook @nxlx96 @saythename-sm @lesliiieeeee @landopoet @blushmimi @neferaskingdom @oikarma @mayax2o07

TAGLIST IS CLOSED! please let me know if you want to be removed or if I forgot to add you! I'm having some trouble with it, so I'm sorry if it doesn't work!